#//muse is not okay and neither am I

[rotomblr-kaiya]

✂️

Tw: transphobia

~~~

“Are you gay?” He started.

“Wha-?” The question completely caught her off guard, “Why does that matter?”

“Well if you’re not then you don’t need to take those pills.”

“How does being gay or not relate to my blockers at all?”

“Because that’s what trans women are. They’re just gay men that want to be able to sleep with other men.”

“That is NOT at ALL what trans women are!”

“Yes it is,” His voice was stern, not willing to budge, “So if you’re not gay then you can stop that ridiculous treatment and finally cut your hair. It looks like a mop.”

“Stop calling it a mop! I like my hair this way! And I’m not stopping my blockers!”

“I’m just making sure you’re not gonna do something you’ll regret,” He tried to soften his voice.

“This is the best I’ve ever felt!”

“For now,” The ‘softness’ was gone in an instant, “You’ll grow out of it eventually and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Of course I do! I know you’re not trans! I never saw a single sign!”

“Yeah. Because I thought I was weird and hid it!” She was getting tired of this.

“Either way, I’m not letting you take your pills anymore.”

“You can’t just do that!” She felt like she was about to cry.

“I’m your father! You’ll do what I say! No more pills! And stop going out with your Pokemon for fuck’s sake! You need to be studying for college!”

“College? I’m thirteen!”

“And you need to prepare now or you’ll never get in. You know when I was young I never got–”

“Into college and you always regretted it. I know! You’ve only been telling me that for the past three years!” She knew that line like the back of her hand now.

“So you know what you have to do. Stop spending the whole day outside playing and start thinking about your fucking future! You’re not going to support yourself by being a fucking trainer!”

“Why not? Olympia already suggested that I become her apprentice!”

“Because that’s not what you’re good at! You’re a programmer! Like me!”

“I’m not you!”

“I know! You’re my son, Gray-”

“Kaiya! It’s Kaiya! I’m not your son!” She shouted, grabbing her bag and heading for the door, “And I’m not gonna be your fucking daughter either!”

“Fine then! You’ll see what a child you’re being when you realise you're not strong enough.”

She gritted her teeth, taking a second to look back at the man she used to call ‘dad’.

“Watch me.”

[ride-a-dromedary]

I am caught on the self indulgent idea of Jaheira and Halsin and hair combing and braiding, but particularly extending their services to Tav and the gang.

[starlitwishes]

TFW Someone destroys your entire life with just one sentence--

[majorxmaggiexboy]

rating my Muses by whether they would survive Dracula:

Ben: slim chance of survival. Would initially have glitter eyes at drac and would be devastated at the slow realization that Something's Up but would become determined to make it a problem for all involved. Dies if he meets the brides because his dumb ass would NOT believe they aren't prisoners and would die trying to rescue them while they're stabbing him to death with glittery sillystraws. If he can get out of the castle his chances improve but he's still on thin ice because he WILL be going right back in the castle trying to save everybody from Drac, but he's NOT stupid enough to do it alone. Just might survive but will absolutely lose at least one friend in the process. 5/10

Amicia: Survival Guaranteed. Not only would she realize Drac's a monster as soon as he survives for more than two hours after being kind to her and Hugo, but Amicia would also not be trying to stick around. She's grabbing her brother and the bread sticks and trying to GTFO. The villagers are on they own unless absolutely necessary. Would beat the snow out of the Brides if they even look at Hugo. On the off chance somebody does get one over on her, Hugo will drown them in rats. These kids are golden. 10/10

Gamble: 50/50 survival odds. The vampires don't get him but no less than ten villagers and van Helsing want him dead for reasons that might or might not have a damn thing to do with vampires. 8/10 because he will not only leave others to die but will also actively attempt to get other people killed by the vampires if he thinks it'll improve his escape chances or just be kinda funny

D'Artagnan: no chance because you know those kids on ao3 going to replace Drac with all three musketeers AND rochefort and Milady will also be around somewhere. Boy might as well call up mordaunt for the funeral smh we don't go here.

Bonus, Battinson: I'm only including him bc first of all it'd be his house that Harker sells to Drac and Alfred would be like Well Mr Wayne Nobody Believed Me When I Said The House Wasn't Vacant no but also dracula would look at him and either think Wow I Can't Actually Compete. You Funky Little Vampire. Or he'd just go damn this dudes miserable enough lol and just leave.

[vagabond-umlaut]

hey, where is the pomegranate tree?

unstoppable force, aka kore, aka gojo, meets immovable object, aka hades, aka you— nothing can ever go wrong from this collision, trust me— n-o-t-h-i-n-g.

▸ gojo satoru x fem!reader; hades and persephone retelling [with a twist ;))]; 1.2k wc; stubbornly persuasive gojo; the reader is js so tired and annoyed [and tired]; enemies to lovers vibes[??]; talks of marriage and children; gojo thinks you are a fool, he is the real clown here

▸ pls don't glare at me if there is more than one inaccuracy here, haha. anyways, the header is from pinterest, the divider is by @benkeibear and the characters used ain't mine. pls don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

▸ update: this fic is now part of a series!!! wreaths of asphodel 😊😊

"you shall spend the rest of your days in tears."

you're foolish; woefully so, gojo thinks, carefully observing you from his place on the chaise lounge, smiling while you continue seething, "and there will be no one who can save you. neither a hero nor a god. neither demeter nor zeus. no. one."

"but why do you think i will need saving, my rose?" the endearment rolls off his tongue like honey, the taste sweetening at the way your pretty lips dip into a deeper frown, "you're not a monster, are you?"

"no!" the defensive reply comes in less than a beat. though the words following it sound a tad less bold; it seems as if you're trying to make yourself believe and not scare him.

"i'm someone far fiercer— hades. the goddess of the dead. the queen of the underworld— and the cause for your misery should you choose to vex me any further."

"aw, no," gojo cries, decidedly making a show by slapping a hand over his eyes and faking a sniffle, "why must the only woman i want as my wife see me as an annoyance?"

then lets his hand drop down to the cushion, willing his eyes to well over with pitiful moisture. "as the god of life, i've only ever given and given– be it grains or fruits or vegetables or flowers– without asking anything in return— yet the first and only time i ask..."

he doesn't bother finishing his sentence, choosing to sob to add to the tragic atmosphere— though that doesn't mean he doesn't note the war of emotions on your face:

pity, confusion, anger, again confusion— you're so easy to read, to steer. very foolish, really.

"you'll not like living here," you eventually break the silence hanging within the room. your voice is much softer now; the god wonders if you sing. if you do, the muses will certainly be put to shame... "your days will be spent in utter boredom and gloom and tears–"

"– and no one can come to my aid then: yes, thank you," he interrupts you, more than a little tired, "you've driven the points too well into my head– so much so that i'm surprised there isn't a gaping hole in there, oozing blood and my brains. but why must you think i'll need rescue, huh??"

if a smidge of force escapes into his words, gojo decides not to pay it any mind— though only until he notices the small flinch you give– his insides twist and torment, quite inexplicably, thereafter.

"okay, look," he says, getting up from his slouch to move near you, but stops on catching the warning glint in your eyes.

"first of all, i'm not some damsel in distress being whisked away in a chariot here– i came here by own volition. and i'm offering my mind, body, heart, soul– the special package that i am, in fewer words– to you, by my own volition. why shall i want anyone to rescue me then?"

"besides," he proceeds to add, allowing an easy smirk to form on his face, "you're just the cute little goddess of the dead– not at all scary like your brother used to be; though i guess you try to imitate him in your glares, don't you? sukuna was quite notori—"

"don't you dare utter my brother's name, foul olympian," a quiet growl slashes gojo's comment, sending it plummetting to the ground— and making him understand why you, the inconspicuous, sheltered sister of the vicious former holder of the name 'hades', was given the crown, in the aftermath of your brother's banishment– instead of the several more well-known candidates...

"i apologise," gojo offers in the very next instant, making it as genuine as he can, "i never meant to upset or offend you. i'm sorry if i did."

you just stare at him for a beat, gojo watches, before your shoulders lift then fall in a sigh. the fire burning in your aura abates by a pinch.

sighing once more, you finally break your silence, "It's okay, and um– suppose i too should apologise. you might be an olympian but you're not as foul as them, no. please forgive me for calling you so."

"no problem, my rose," the god is quick to accept your words with a wave of his hand and a beam, further widening when he notices the sliver of smile on your countenance, "but does this mean i appeal to your tastes? i mean, you called me 'not as foul as them', didn't you?? did you just accept my hand in marriage, then???"

"no, i didn't..." your subtle smile disappears swifter than it appeared. a half of gojo's floral crown, quite inexplicably, wilts on the table before. he watches your eyes fall to it, then snap up to meet his.

"do you love me?"

not yet, but he thinks he can. you might be an idiot but you certainly aren't an unlovable idiot— and one voice in his mind murmurs, those precious, innocent looks of yours aren't even the main reasons why...

the god shoots back a languid smile. "if you want to see me in love with you, so be it."

"that's neither 'yes' nor 'no'," you point out, frowning, before vaulting your second query of the evening, "if we get married, do you want to have children?"

it won't be very unfavourable, if you both do... with the vivid colour of your eyes, or the adorable shape of your nose, or the radiance of your skin, or the— "if you want, i shall be happy to assist," he ekes out with a meaningful wink, albeit he doubts how much of it reaches you.

you're very foolish, after all... and no– it's not because of the awkward way he says it– no! not in the slightest! he wasn't fumbling at all!

you wrap the shawl tighter around your shoulders but don't move any further away, gojo notes. the same way he does the slight tint in your cheeks when you roll your eyes with a scoff.

"you're unbelievable, kore. truly, terribly unbelievable." you press the pads of your thumbs over your forehead before releasing it, gaze an unprecedented mark of sharp when it settles on his face.

"is there nothing you want from our union, eh? i refuse to believe you wish to marry me without any demands, as if on a mere whim– but if it is so, i ought to warn you, kore: my answer is and will always be one firm 'no'."

your words mustn't ignite this odd restlessness in him. they certainly mustn't— still, gojo finds his chest tight and the air heavy as he grins back and says, "i only want to be your husband, your majesty... but if that is too much for you right now–"

the stretch on his lips simmers down to something smaller. yet truer.

"i want you to call me by my name. my real name. can you do that, my rose?"

you don't say anything in response for a long while. so long, in fact, it makes the god wonder if you are ever going to reply to his request.

perhaps not, he thinks quite a bit down-spirited when you suddenly turn on your heel and with a swish of your long shawl, stride out the rooms– o-oh.

you stop just as abruptly at the threshold. a complicated grin shining on your face as you twist to look at him over your shoulder then say:

"good night, gojo satoru. pray the ghosts prowling these halls don't eat you up ere dawn."

you're gone not even few feet away from the door, before gojo falls face-first into the bed, the entire room suddenly erupting into thousands of roses in all colors ever seen. [lolol, he is such a loser for you! xD]

▸ masterlist

[washeduphazbin]

Could I get a one shot of, y/n is like Adam’s life ex gf she left after getting tired of his shit.. ended up falling in love with Lucifer.. (Mr. Steal yo girl thrice) and during the Adam and Lucifer battle Lucifer taunts that he stole all three of his lovers

YES. YES. I'm in love with Lucifer. Your wish is my command.

Sorry it's so short if we like maybe part 2

Also, poly luci x reader x Lilith (sorry, not sorry)

———

“Little duck?” Lucifer asked softly, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. You were holding onto one of his plush ducks rather tightly,

"I can't help but think...that this extermination is my fault." Lucifer let out a gasp and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, "Lulu-"

"I won't have that negative self-talk in my house." Your brow furrowed in distress,

"But-"

"No buts."

"Lucifer! Adam's absolutely moved up the extermination to spite Charlie and us!" You argued, "I...what if I go back to him."

"Excuse me, what?"

"I don't want to!" You moved away from him to the portrait of Lilith, you and Lucifer hanging in the corner of the room. "I really don't want to..." You raised your hand and brushed against Lilith's horns and Lucifer's staff in the portrait. "You know I don't belong here; I'm not a demon, a sinner, or an angel either. I'm just a human who fell because I fell in love with you and your family." You smiled sadly over at him, holding out your hand. Lucifer squeezed it tightly, "What if I can solve all of this by just going back with Adam."

"That's not happening; I'm not letting you go back to that fuckwad;" He scoffed, brushing a hand through your hair, "Do you think you'll be happier with him? Without us? Without Charlie?"

"No." You laughed bitterly, "Of course not, Charlie would kill me."

"She absolutely would. You're like another mother to her; she wouldn't let you go back to that hellscape without a fight. Neither will I; I have a few words I'd love to share with Adam."

"Oh yeah? What would you say?"

"I'm sure you'll get to hear it eventually," he mused, leaning closer to kiss your cheeks. "Just stay safe and stay away from the Hotel until Charlie or I give you the okay, okay?"

"Okay." You whispered softly, bending down to plant a kiss on his lips,

"Did you really have to bend down like that," He huffed, hitting you gently with his cane.

"Oh, absolutely."

---

"Stay home? STAY HOME?" You roared, grabbing Lucifer's shoulders, "Everyone dying, and you want me to stay home!"

"For your safety and everyone's safety. Yes." He squeezed your shoulders tightly, "If it's between you and Charlie, I-"

"You choose Charlie every time."

"I love you-"

"I know. I love you too." You smiled softly, "Kick Adam in the dick for me?"

"It would be my pleasure, my lady. Here," Lucifer handed you his phone, "It'll live stream the battle; I hacked a VoxTech drone." He puffed his chest out proudly, and you beamed, taking his phone from his hands.

"I can't wait to see Adam get dick punched in HD!"

"There's the bloodlust I love so much; if I didn't have to go save Hell, I'd totally fuck you right now."

"Then you better leave now so you can come back and fuck me as soon as possible."

"Yes, ma'am!" He gave the dorkiest salute before teleporting out of the room.

---

"I am going to FUCK you!"

"It's fuck you up...dad."

Your face palmed, curling up on the bed, Lucifer's phone in your hand, watching the live stream.

"What? What did I say? Oh Shit-" Lucifer burst into laughter as he transformed into a snake to avoid being hit by Adam, "So this is what you've been up to since Eden, huh? I gotta you really let yourself go, buddy."

"Are you judging me?" Adam snarled in a disbelieving laugh, "You're the most hated being in all of creation!" Lucifer snickered as he turned into a bird,

"Well, your first wife didn't seem to hate what I had to offer, or the second bow chica. Wow, wow!" He splayed his fingers out in a V shape and stuck his tongue in between his fingers, "Not to mention your third."

"I'm sorry what!" He snarled,

"Oh, you didn't know? (Y/n)'s a doll, the tightest pussy Lilith and I've EVER shared!"

You made a horrified sound at the phone, wanted to absolutely curl up into a ball and die, Charlie didn't look any better.

"Dad!"

"You are so dead!" Adam shouted, "And I'm gonna find that bitch, and I'm going to make her pay!"

"Sure you are," he snorted, "I'd like to see you try."

[jobean12-blog]

Locked in Love

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: 1,161

Summary: You and Joel are clearly pining for each other but neither of you will act on it so Ellie and Tommy formulate a plan.

Author's Note: This is just because I want to be locked in a dark space with this man so he can have his way with me. I'd never feel safer. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: it's soft and sweet and fun and there's flirty tension and lots of touching...Ellie is a menace in the best way, a curse or three.

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

“Ouch!”

Joel turns his head to the left, listening with his good ear.

“For fucks sake! Son of a…OW!”

His lips twitch with a smile and he moves closer to the old shed.

“Hey darlin’? You ok in there?” he asks.

As he gets closer to the door he starts to hear the rattling of metal against wood and lots of banging.

“Darlin’?” he calls again.

The door is slightly ajar, letting only a small fraction of the light from outside in, so he steps inside.

He catches the briefest glimpse of your ass as you’re bent over a pile of old tools before the door slams shut behind him and he’s bathed in shadowy darkness.

“Oh no,” you mutter. “Did the door just shut?”

“Um…” Joel starts and reaches behind him to test the rusty knob.

A long moment stretches without words while Joel fumbles with the door lock.

“Shit,” he sighs.

“Joel?”

“It’s me darlin’,” he answers. “I heard some noises comin’ from inside and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Thank goodness it’s you.”

Your words rush out in a relieved exhale.

“But I’m pretty sure we’re locked in here now.”

“Seems that way,” he says, giving the knob one more good jiggle.

You try to take a step forward but the darkness makes it much more difficult to see and you walk into an old pile of wood.

“Shit,” you curse with a hiss.

“Don’t move,” he says as he extends his hands out in front of him. “I’m comin’ for you.” 

You stay still, waiting for the touch of his hands. You can feel his warmth first though and before his fingers make contact you’re enveloped in his familiar scent of earth and spice.

“There ya are darlin’,” he whispers when his fingers wrap around your arm. “Sure you’re okay?”

“I am now,” you answer, your breathy sigh washing over him.

You instinctively lean into his touch, pressing your shoulder to his chest and clutching his shirt in your hands.

“What are you doin’ in here anyway?” he asks.

You sigh and roll your eyes even if he can’t see the motion in the darkness.

“Ellie asked me to help her build her bookshelf and told me I could probably find an old hammer in here and maybe some other tools.”

He scoffs and shakes his head.

“Well there might be somethin’ in here we can use to open the door at least,” he muses.

His deep voice is close to your ear it sends a warm shiver down your spine.

“Ok,” you whisper but you don’t let go of his shirt and for several moments he stays still, pressing himself closer.

“Guess I should look around,” he says quietly.

When he does finally start to move you move with him, his arm slipping around your waist to secure you to his side.

At first he navigates the dark space well, only bumping into something small but at some point he makes a turn and the next thing you know you’re backed up against the wall.

“Oof,” you mutter, placing your palms on his chest to steady yourself.

Both of his hands slide to your waist.

“Fuck, darlin.’ Sorry. I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay,” you assure him as your hands move higher to his shoulders.

He murmurs your name in an almost desperate manner before he eases closer, crowding you against the wall.

You drag your fingers downward, reaching his stomach and savoring the feel of the softness beneath your hands.

His grip tightens and he asks, “what are you doin’ darlin’?”

“Making sure I don’t trip or bump into anything else,” you explain.

Your hands don’t stop their roaming and when you glide them back up and find the open buttons of his shirt your fingertips slide under the fabric and caress his warm skin.

His breath accelerates and he dips his head. You lean in and your lips meet his scruffy cheek.

With deliberate purpose you ghost your mouth along his jaw until you find his ear to whisper his name in a plea.

Your back molds to the wall seconds after the sound leaves your lips and he swallows your surprise with his mouth.

Even in the dark he kisses you like he’s memorized the shape of your lips, gently nipping and then soothing the spot with his tongue. His large hand traces the curve of your body before it settles along the back of your neck, his thumb delicately sweeping across your cheek.

“So soft for me,” he murmurs, releasing your lips.

You can feel him staring in the darkness and your hands start to wander again, fingertips grazing lower until you meet his belt buckle.

He drops his head to your neck, breathing against your throat as he rolls his hips.

“Fuck darlin’,” he growls.

Your lips meet again but only to lightly slide together, the anticipation hanging thick in the small space of air between you.

The door to the shed flies open.

Joel operates on instinct and crowds you against the wall, hiding you protectively with his body. As soon as the light from outside floods in you duck your head and tuck it under his chin.

He squints into the brightness and as his eyes adjust he grumbles out a curse.

“Told you it would work.”

At the sound of Ellie’s voice you peek out over Joel���s shoulder with narrowed eyes.

“Did I just hear her say what I think she said?” you ask Joel quietly.

“You did,” he grunts. “Damn kid.”

“Who was she talking to?” you ask next.

Before Joel can answer you hear the heavy footfall of boots followed by Tommy’s distinct laughter.

“Darn right it worked,” Tommy grins and then you hear him and Ellie high five.

Ellie looks pointedly at Joel and then you, giving you both a triumphant smile before sauntering off.

“Should I just leave you two…” Tommy starts, his eyes sparkling as his finger waggles back and forth. “I can lock the door again.”

Without releasing you, Joel takes a threatening step forward and Tommy retreats with hands held up in surrender but his knowing smile still unwavering.

Once Tommy is gone Joel’s eyes turn softly to you. Calloused fingertips brush along your forehead before tracing the outline of your lips.

Your breath hitches under the heat you see in his gaze, the intensity making you acutely aware of every sensation he draws from you.

“I’m not done with you yet. Far from it darlin’.”

Very deliberately he drops his hand from your face, grazing every exposed inch of skin he can find on his way down to the hem of your shirt and slowly, gently slips his fingers beneath.

Your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks and you let out a rush of air.

“Can I touch you?” he murmurs.

“Yes.” The answer bursts out of you in a desperate whisper, as if you’ve been holding it in forever.

@lorilane33 @blackwidownat2814 @hiddles-rose @lizette50 @littleseasiren

[spaceshipellie]

let me take care of you (smut)

ellie williams x reader

minors do not interact! 18+

summary: ellie comes back from patrol slightly injured and grumpy. reader takes care of her in more ways than one

cw: eating out (e receiving), scissoring, needy ellie, fluff

author’s note: i am going wild over this i just want to take care of a needy ellie so bad oh my GOD

you hadn’t been home long when ellie burst through the door, groaning loudly as she shook off her backpack and fell face first into the pillow on the bed.

“bad patrol?” you asked.

“fucking fell through a hole in the ceiling of this shitty building and landed on a pole,” she mumbled but the pillow swallowed her words.

“you what?”

she lifted her head, eyes squeezed shut as if she had a headache and repeated herself before letting her face flop down again, on her side this time.

“oh babe, are you okay?” you shifted from your seating position to lie down on your side next to her, tracing a finger on her freckled cheek.

“no,” she grumbled. you felt bad for her, knowing she was in pain, but you couldn’t help but also notice how cute she is when she’s grumbly and huffy.

“how about i give you a massage? would that help?”

she opened her eyes to look at you and contemplated.

“think so, i’ll have a shower first,” she said before taking a deep sigh to will herself off of the bed and drag herself to the shower. whilst you waiting for her you thought you’d try and make the room a bit more ‘moody’ and relaxing so you turned the light off and turned on some fairy lights instead and lit a couple of candles. you were just shaking out the duvet to straighten it out as she came back in wrapped in a towel. a small smile creeped up on her lips as she took in what you’d done for her.

“lie on your front,” you instructed and motioned towards the bed.

“thanks baby.” she unhooked the towel as she laid down and haphazardly laid it over her ass. she tucked her arms under her cheek and her eyes followed you around the room as you grabbed some moisturiser. you climbed onto the bed and straddled her legs until you were hovering over the back of her thighs.

“am i okay sat here?” you asked before relaxing your body weight on her.

“yeah yeah,” she mused and you got comfortable before squeezing some moisturiser on your hands and rubbing them together.

“i’m not the best at massages but i hope it helps and tell me if it hurts.”

“it’s okay, babe, and i will.” her voice instantly sounded more relaxed and sleepy than it had done when she first got home, which you took as a good sign.

you started at her shoulders and heard her let out a soft sigh. her skin was incredibly soft despite being an adrenaline junkie and getting herself into all kinds of scrapes, and it felt warm under your hands. you admired the faint freckles that kissed her shoulders, wanting nothing more than to lean down and kiss them yourself.

no, snap out of it, you thought. you’ve literally just started and she needs this. besides, being the one who gets to touch her like this and be soft and innocent with her after she’s been out encountering all manners of danger and risky situations felt special and your heart felt gooey at the thought.

after working her shoulders for a while you moved your hands a bit further down her back to her shoulder blades. she let out a groan and your hands paused for a moment.

“did that hurt?”

“no, feels good, baby.” she mumbled, her lips squashed slightly by her arm.

you carried on as you were, trying hard to actually give her a good massage and not just prod at her back for ages. you added a bit more moisturiser which allowed your hands to glide over her skin more smoothly.

you continued massaging her back for a while longer, your hands now working the small of her back, thumbs occasionally brushing against the top of the towel. neither of you had spoken in a while and you half suspected that she might have fallen asleep. that was until you felt her hips move ever so slightly. you carried on as you were, ignoring it, she still could be asleep. her hips wiggled again but this time you heard a faint moan.

“ellie?” you whispered. you heard a soft ‘hmm?’ in response.

“are you awake?” again, another ‘hmm,’ indicating a yes.

“oh okay, just checking.”

you went back to what you were doing, this time moving your hands further to her sides and she moved again. you couldn’t work out if she was just being sensitive to the massage, after all, she’s long over due one, or if maybe she was getting a bit turned on…

to test the waters, you grazed your hands down her sides near where her boobs pressed against the bed and ran your hands down her back and let your thumbs dip under the towel slightly. her hips shifted again and another moan escaped her lips. she was definitely horny.

you smiled to yourself, loving the effect you were having on her and how you were able to take care of your baby so well. especially because she could sometimes be really fucking stubborn about this sort of thing, insisting it’s her who takes care of you.

your hands continued working gentle circles into her lower back and waist as you gave into your earlier temptation and leaned forward to kiss her shoulder. she instantly moaned at the contact and you could see that her eyes were closed but she definitely wasn’t asleep.

you left kisses all along from one shoulder to the other and moved your hands down ever so slowly so that they wrapped around her hips, nudging the towel out of the way. her hips shifted as you did so, silently letting you know how eager she was for you to touch her. patience, darling, you thought to yourself.

you left more delicate kisses along her back before very slowly pulling the towel completely off and letting it drop off the side of the bed.

the tiniest whimper could be heard from her as her ass was exposed. you brought one hand down to give it a gentle squeeze and with your other, brushed some of her hair out of the way so you could kiss behind her ear and whisper.

“can i touch you?”

she let out a weak, “please.”

you began moving your body downwards so you could leave a trail of kisses all the way down her spine. when you reached the base of it, you paused to look up at her.

“can you please turn over for me, babe?”

it took a second for her brain to connect with her body after she’d been lying still for over an hour but she slowly turned to lie on her back. you caught her eye and she looked so pretty and peaceful. you encouraged her legs apart as you nestled yourself between them. leaving small kisses on her inner thigh you slipped a finger through her folds to feel how wet she was.

“you’re soaking.”

she merely hummed in response, the atmosphere making it hard for her to speak. your kisses got closer until you finally placed one on her clit. her hand instantly came to stroke through your hair as you lapped and swirled your tongue around. your hands kept a soft grip on her thighs, keeping them open.

you were going to make sure everything you did was gentle with her right now, as that’s what she seemed to need.

you buried your face deeper into her cunt and eventually curled your tongue inside of her, causing your nose to press against her clit.

her hand remained in your hair, giving it gentle tugs. her moans were soft and quiet, but that didn’t mean you weren’t making her feel so good right now.

you found a rhythm that you kept going with until you could feel from the way her body jerked that she was closing to coming.

feeling the creamy white cum drip out of her and straight onto your tongue had you grinding your hips into the mattress, the pool between your legs growing.

she let out a “fuck” as she came before you slowly pulled away. you took a second to appreciate how pretty her pussy looked before leaning up and gently lying on top of her. your nose gently nudged hers as you planted a soft, wet kiss on her lips, making her taste herself.

her fingers started to pull at the hem of your top and you quickly obliged by taking your top off and resuming the kiss whilst your bare tits pressed against hers.

her legs wrapped around you slightly, her foot bumping your ass. her hands trailed down your back, making you shiver almost at how soft her touch was. christ, you loved her like this. so gentle and needy and clingy for you. it was a side of her no one else ever got to see. her fingers now toyed with the waist band of your jeans, making feeble attempts to get them off.

“so needy for me, baby,” you mumbled into the kiss.

“am not.”

you couldn’t help but laugh a little. “okay, if you say so.”

you kissed her harder before she could utter any snarky comment back before pulling away to take your jeans off. you didn’t break eye contact with her whilst you shoved your jeans and underwear off.

the second they were gone you were back, pressed against her like a puzzle piece. kissing her and squeezing her waist. you were both moaning into each others mouths as you started to run your hand down to cup underneath her knee, holding it up.

you pulled away from the kiss and shifted your position so that your soaked cunt was pressed against hers, your hand holding one of her legs up.

you both let out a whinier moan at the contact as you started to rock your hips against her. eating her out a moment ago had basically been like edging for you and you were dripping and desperate for this. your free hand intertwined with one of hers whilst her other hand held your hip, helping you move.

“fuck baby,” she breathed.

“does that feel good?”

her head flung back and her grip on your hand tightened as she gasped, “feels so good.”

it didn’t take long for you both to be coming, the wet sounds tipping you both over the edge. as you felt your body go limp, you slowly climbed off and resumed your previous position lying on top of her. you were both panting a bit and you let out a little laugh before meshing your lips with hers again.

“do you feel better now, babe?” you asked.

“can barely remember what happened,” she smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“i love you.”

you rested your forehead on hers.

“i love you too, el.”

[hayakawalove]

Wanna Make a Bet?

A/N: N/A

Summary: With your two boyfriends, life was never boring. A bet is made to see who can last the longest without sex.

TW: Teasing, spit play, polyamory, spit play, gojos a shit, cunnilingus, anal sex, fem reader, AFAB reader W/C: 4,170

It was hazy how all of this started, really. You were sure Satoru was the one who came up with the idea. It certainly wasn’t you, and it wouldn’t have been Suguru. 

The three of you sat in the bedroom, mindlessly doing your own things. You lay in between Suguru’s legs, head resting on his lower stomach. Your knees were propped up, giving Satoru a nice plush pillow to rest against. Suguru was reading while you played on your phone. You weren’t sure what Satoru was doing, but then again you never knew what he was up to. 

A video played on your phone and you were half paying attention. All of a sudden you felt a soft bite against your thigh. You peered around your phone to look at Satoru. His face was turned over as he bit into your skin, a low groan leaving his lips. 

“Satoru, really? We were having a nice moment.” You murmured. 

“This is a nice moment too, isn’t it?” He responded cooly, inching closer to the area between your legs with his mouth. 

You dropped your phone against your stomach and ran your fingers through his fluffy hair. It was nice laying down with both of them. It was often hard to get all of you alone at the same time. 

“You’re just always horny.” Suguru mused, turning the page. 

“Am not!” Satoru quickly retaliated, his words being muffled by your skin. 

“Are too. Probably couldn’t last a week without sex.” You said. 

“Okay, that’s dramatic. I could last a week.” He exclaimed.

You tilted your head back to look at Suguru. He met your eyes with a soft grin. Neither of you believed the blue eyed menace. 

“Don’t do that! Come on guys, believe me!”

You hummed at Satoru, plucking Suguru’s book from his hands, sliding his bookmark in it. 

“Fine. Wanna play a game? Let’s see who can last a week without sex, and the winner gets whatever they want from the losers. If two people give in and initiate it then they both lose, but if one person gives in to initiate it then they lose.” Satoru announced. 

You and Suguru agreed half heartedly, knowing Gojo wasn’t gonna last. 

And that’s how you ended up starting the bet. It had been several days, and honestly it was torture. You knew Satoru was gonna tease you, he’s always been that way. 

It seemed his favorite tactic was to walk around the house without a shirt on just to tease you. It honestly didn’t get to you too much, not at first at least. But one night in particular made you almost give in. Satoru had come home after working out and pulled his shirt off in the living room. His skin was flushed pink from exertion and you could hear him softly pant. He had to grab your chin in order to get your attention back to what he was saying. 

“Gonna give in bunny?” He taunted. 

You smacked his hand away and sighed. That was that. You weren’t going to give in so easy. You could almost taste victory. 

You expected Satoru to tease you, you really did. What you didn’t expect was for Suguru to tease you too. You thought the both of you were going to gang up on Satoru and make him give in first, but it seemed Suguru had other plans. 

It wasn’t like anything he did was intense. It was just lingering touches, stolen glances. But somehow each moment made your heart race, images of the last time you had sex flashing in your brain. 

You weren’t without your tricks either though. Shoko and Utahime offered to take you out on Saturday night, a girls night they said. You knew they were gonna go off as soon as you got to the club anyway, preferring to make out with each other instead but you didn’t mind. It was still fun to go dancing. 

Donning your tightest dress and a face of makeup, you strutted out of the bathroom. The two men were sitting on the couch watching an indiscrimate show. 

“Alright guys, I’ll see you later tonight. I’ll make sure to call if I need anything.” You tossed over your shoulder, sliding your heels on. 

Satoru stops mid sentence talking to Suguru and peered over at you, eyes widening at your get up. 

The dress covered all the necessary bits, but if you leaned over anyone would get a free show. And the heels, fuck, the heels made your legs go on for days. 

Neither of them cared how you dressed. In fact, sometimes they liked when you wore things like this. They liked the idea of you turning someone down, just so the sorry loser could feel jealous for what’s not theirs. 

“Damn bunny.” Satoru leaned back against the couch, drinking you in. 

Suguru was more subtle in the way he looked at you. He noticed the way you did your hair. It was his favorite style, and you knew it. 

“Looks good right?” You said, giving them a twirl. 

Satoru’s eyes dropped to your ass and Suguru watched the way your chest juts out. 

“You look perfect baby.” Suguru looked up at your face. 

You leaned down, placing a kiss on each of the boys cheek. They try to avoid looking down your dress but failed miserably. Satoru almost snapped when he saw your lack of bra, your nipples pressing against the thin fabric. Suguru knocked his knee against Satoru’s, bringing Satoru back to reality. 

He would’ve jumped your bones then and there if not for his much calmer counter part. 

You bid them farewell and depart on your night out. You were almost sad that neither of them gave in, but you thought there might be other ways to get them to give in. Like you predicted, Shoko and Utahime disappeared after the first hour but you still had fun dancing alone. 

Four days had passed since that dreadful conversation. You were beginning to curse your past self for making the dumb decision to agree to the stupid bet. Everytime you tried to remind yourself that there was only a couple days left, one of the boys would do something that got you worked up. 

Satoru was out of the house, likely trying to finish up work. You and Suguru were home alone, standing in the kitchen making chatter. There was a lull in the conversation where you both just rested against the counter. Suguru wore one of his tight white button ups, accentuating his muscles. You couldn’t even blame him for wearing it. It was his usual work attire, but it was making you go crazy. 

“This whole bet is stupid, don’t you think?” You say in passing, looking at his arms. 

“Yeah, didn’t think it was gonna be this hard.” He comments. 

Your eyes flick up to search his face. Your feet move instantly, bringing you over to him. Your lips are the first to touch before you feel his heavy hands press against your body. Suguru pushes you against the wall, pressing his lips against yours. You felt like he was simultaneously breathing life into you, while also stealing your oxygen. Suguru’s tongue intertwined with yours, spit swapping between you two. 

Your fingers grip into his shirt, pulling him down closer into you. He pushes you against the wall so hard it almost feels like you’re going to fuse with it. One of his hands wraps against your lower waist while the other sneaks up your back. 

You feel his boner in his pants brushing against your leg and you can’t deny the way your underwear seeps with need. Why did you have to make this stupid bet? You thought you could do it, but your restraint was slowly slipping. 

“Suguru” you moan breathily. 

You feel him take a deep breath, your lip caught between his teeth. 

“I know baby.” He sighs. 

Suguru pulls away and looks down at you. You had never seen his eyes so lust filled before. His hands grip against you tighter. 

“Come to the bedroom with me.”

“But what about-“

Suguru cuts you off with a kiss. You heart flutters in response and you can feel heat spread over your cheeks. 

“We don’t have to have sex. Wanna watch you make yourself cum.” The brashness of his words catch you off guard. 

Suguru grabs your hand and pulls you along to your bedroom. Your fingers itched to roam over his body, but you really wanted Satoru to lose the bet. 

He gently sits you on the bed before pulling a chair up close to you. Your heart pounds in your ears while you rip the clothes off your body at speeds unseen before. Suguru’s eyes analyze each of your movements, wanting to savor each inch of skin you reveal. His hands fumble with his pants before pulling his cock out. It was so hard it was bordering on painful. He couldn’t remember the last time he went this long without sex. He never needed to, not when he had two sexy partners waiting for him at home. 

You slide your underwear down your thighs, spreading your legs. A rush of cold air brushes against your pussy, sending shivers down your spine. 

“Go on baby.” Suguru’s voice edges on obscene, desire clearly dripping from every syllable. 

You press you finger pad against your clit, a sharp intake of air gracing the room. Suguru takes hold of his cock, smearing his precum down his shaft, making it easier to glide his palm against the sensitive skin. 

You watch through hooded eyes at the way Suguru strokes his cock for you. It was almost unfair how beautiful he was, in everything he did. Your finger speeds up, your thighs shaking on either side of you. 

The noises of your slick pussy fill the room. You craved Suguru’s skin on yours, along with Satoru’s. Your boys made you feel so good each time they touched you, and your body was addicted. 

Suguru’s thumb swirls around his tip, his brows furrowing in response as he watches your hand. He never considered himself an impatient man, not nearly as much as Satoru. But the more he thought about it the more he thought that he must be. 

Your mouth drops open as soft moans escape you. You could feel Suguru’s eyes sear into you, making your hole clench around nothing. 

You don’t even notice your front door swing open. The noise reverberates through the house, but you and Suguru are too focused on each other to pay it any mind. 

“I’m home!” Satoru’s voice fills the hall. 

He notices your absence in the living room so he makes his way to your bedroom. The schlick schlick schlick noises were ones he was well acquainted with. A devilish grin spreads across his lips as he grabs the door frame, swinging inside. 

“Ah hah! I knew I would beat you guys! What’re you doing?” He boasts before coming to a stop, seeing that you aren’t touching each other. 

“Not having sex.” Suguru grunts in response, eyes trained on your body. 

“Close enough! I win!” 

Suguru didn’t feel like explaining to Satoru the difference. 

“No it’s not. Now come in and join or leave.” Suguru orders. 

The tough tone sends a tingle over Satoru’s skin. He swallows the lump that settled in his throat, tearing his eyes off Suguru. The air in the room somehow became stifling. He watches you work deftly against yourself, your needy moans sounding like pure lust. 

Satoru drags a chair beside Suguru’s and settles down in it. A low buzz of excitement swims underneath his skin. It takes him a bit before he can rid himself of the clothes he wore, the clothing not coming off fast enough. It didn’t take him long to get hard. The second he heard the noises coming from the room, he could already feel his dick twitch. 

Satoru wraps a hand around his cock and moves it down. A moan falls from his parted lips as he watches you. 

He didn’t know who to focus on. On one side he had Suguru, legs spread and heavy cock in hand. You laid in front of him, body withering while you brought yourself pleasure. It almost hurt how fast he darted his eyes back and forth between you two. 

You open your eyes and whimper seeing Satoru join in. They both watch you as your finger rubs against your clit. 

“Fuck, Suguru how long have you guys been doing this? How haven’t you touched her yet?” 

“Some of us have some self control.” Suguru answers, a teasing lilt to his voice. He speaks as if he wasn’t two seconds away from taking you. 

Satoru opens his mouth to give a smart response back, but the words die in his throat. He quickly finds himself distracted at the way your breasts rise and fall, laborious breaths falling from your lips. He watches the way your finger swirls around your clit, a sight so tempting he wasn’t sure he could resist any longer. 

Satoru moans and grips himself tighter. He desperately needed to touch you. To hell with the bet. 

He launches himself forward, landing in between your legs. You gasp and pull your hand away. Satoru looks like a madman in front of you, pupils blown wide while he eyes your pussy. Suguru slows down, rubbing himself languidly. 

“Satoru, the-“ you start. 

“Fuck that. Need to taste you.” He groans seeing your pussy up close in his face. 

You open your mouth to speak, but all rational thought leaves your brain as you feel his tongue lick one fat stripe from your hole to your clit. You moan out, gripping the sheets below you. It hadn’t been very long since you had sex last, but it felt so good it was like you were going to melt in the bed. 

“O-only you lose.” You murmur, watching as Satoru grips your legs and throws them over his shoulder. 

You think he grumbles an agreement, but you can’t understand him over the sound of your pussy covering his lips. 

You look up at Suguru and see him pick up the pace again. Your hands reach out and he immediately understands, standing up to make his way over to you. Suguru kneels beside your head and leans down, pressing his lips against yours. Your moans melt in his mouth as pleasure flows through you. Each time one of them touched you, it felt like a shock to your system. Satoru sucks your clit, drinking you up. The air in the room felt hot, smoldering. 

“Taste so good bunny, always do just for me. Fuck, could be down here all day-“ Satoru babbles, drunk on your pussy without having even been inside you. 

Suguru toys with your mouth, tongue gliding against yours. His hand lifts up and slides down your body. He grips onto Satoru’s head, shoving his face down against you again, silencing him once more. Satoru graciously accepts, sliding his tongue through your sticky folds. He traces against your clit and feels you tense up. Suguru keeps a hand on Satoru’s head, refusing to let either of you up for air. His mouth suffocates you, making your head dizzy. 

You tap his shoulder rapidly trying to signal your oncoming orgasm and he pulls back, looking deep into your eyes. He watches you through messy bangs, watching you tremble and shake beneath him. 

“Gonna cum baby? Feels good?” 

“Yes- oh fuck, fuck!” You shudder. 

“Yeah?” He breathes out heavily, his voice dripping with pleasure as he watches you. 

“Yes, yes!” You cry. 

Right as you were about to cum, all sensation immediately stopped. Suguru had yanked Satoru away from you. You weren’t sure who whined more, you or him. 

“Please please please Suguru, wanna cum, make me cum!” You find yourself begging, tears threatening to spill. 

You beg him to let you cum even if he wasn’t the one touching you. He had all the power, after all. 

Suguru’s eyes gleam at your request and he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. Without tearing his eyes from you, he orders Satoru. 

“Lay down on the bed Satoru.” 

Satoru scrambles to his feet, practically flopping on the bed beside you. His long legs stretch out in front of him, hanging off the bed. Suguru runs his palm down the side of your face, placing his thumb on your bottom lip and dragging it down. Your insides were turned to mush, all capable thought long gone. 

“Why don’t you go make yourself comfortable on his face.” Suguru tells you in a more soft, hushed tone. 

He always did like bossing Satoru around more, and preferred to use a gentle but firm hand with you. 

You nod eagerly and turn around, crawling towards Satoru. Hot puffs of air flow between your legs as you situate yourself on top. Satoru was always extremely eager, it was endearing. He gave his all in everything he did and that only made sex with him all the more better. You lower yourself down and feel Satoru immediately attach his mouth back on you, a groan of relief reverberating through his chest. 

Suguru shuffles around to grab a bottle of lube before returning, sliding in between Satoru’s spread legs. You watch Satoru’s leg muscles relax under the gentle graze of Suguru’s hands. Their love had always been something so pure, you felt extremely lucky they let you in on something so perfect. Your mouth parts as Satoru goes down on you, his tongue gliding through your folds, making a home inside your aching hole. 

You watch as Suguru spreads Satoru’s legs, pouring lube on his hard cock and Satoru’s tight hole. It was hard to tear your eyes away from the erotic sight. Satoru stutters and jumps once he feels Suguru press into him. The stretch was never bad, always blurring between the lines of unbearable and just right. Suguru presses in further, not stopping until his body meets Satoru. If Satoru’s mouth wasn’t glued to you, you would be able to hear his moaning. 

Suguru pulls out slightly, then guides his way back in. He always liked starting off slow before ultimately wrecking either of you. Suguru was a man who liked to take his time, and you never had a problem with it. 

Satoru, on the other hand, did. 

You watch as Satoru spreads his legs even wider, trying to force his hips down to gain more of Suguru. You could hear something that resembles a whine between your legs. You weren’t sure how you ended up with both the most patient man to exist, and the man who probably doesn’t even know what the word patience means. 

“Always so greedy.” Suguru murmurs under his breath. 

He slams his hips forward with more force and you watch as Satoru’s whole body shakes from the impact. Satoru’s long fingers fly up to grab onto your thighs, pulling you down harder against his face. He glides his tongue around, pressing against your clit. 

Heavy breathing turns into moans as Satoru builds you back up again. Ever the needy one, you reach forward for Suguru. Your lips clash against each other. Suguru keeps one hand on Satoru while he fucks him, using his other hand to grab your face. Giving in had never felt so good before. 

While kissing, Suguru blindly reaches for one of your hands, pulling it forward to hold Satoru’s cock. Once your hand makes contact, you feel as Satoru’s body twists in pleasure. You slide your hand down, trying to pay attention to his cock. It was already wet and twitching in need. 

The room was a mess of salacious sounds. Lips smacking, body’s slapping, and quiet groaning. 

You pull back, peering up at Suguru. One of your hands rests against Satoru’s stomach while the other works hard at making his cock feel good. The height difference between you and Suguru wasn’t extreme as the bed evened it out. He locks eyes with you, watching your face twist in pleasure. 

“S-suguru,” 

“Hm?” He hums back, his cock working at Satoru’s insides. 

“Want you to spit in my mouth.” You drunkly request. 

Suguru cocks an eyebrow, looking taken aback by your request. 

“Is that right baby?” 

“Yes, please.” You find yourself begging, your eyes half lidded. 

Suguru’s lips tilt up in a smile while he leans forward, hips slowing to a stop. Satoru whines but you pay him no mind. Suguru grabs your cheeks, pulling you forward. Your pussy rises off Satoru and you can hear him complain. 

“What the hell Suguru? I was doing something.”

You watch with wide eyes as Suguru lets spit dribble from his lips onto your waiting tongue. You groan once it hits your tastebuds. 

“Shit.” Satoru says breathlessly. 

He watches as your pussy clenches around air, getting a front row seat at the way Suguru made you feel. 

“Yeah?” Suguru asks louder, speaking to Satoru. 

His eyes remain on you. He never knew you would be into something like that. Not that he didn’t know you were secretly nasty. 

“Be a good girl for me and keep that on your tongue, don’t swallow.” Suguru speaks quietly to you. 

Your chest heaves at the way you felt. It felt like you were on fire. 

“Think you can do that for me baby?” 

You nod, careful to leave your mouth propped open so Suguru could make sure you followed his order. 

Suguru begins to start fucking Satoru again while you sit back down, his tongue quickly finding its way back to you. It was hard to moan with your mouth wide open, the sound somehow sounding more debauched than before. You tried to rub Satoru’s cock the best you could, but it was hard to think with the heavy cloud of lust over your head. 

Satoru sucks your clit into his mouth, the action causing a jolt through your system. Suguru must’ve been able to see it in your face. 

“Wanna cum baby?” His hushed voice asks. 

You moan staring up at him, a mixture of your saliva and his beginning to drip down from your tongue, landing on Satoru’s pale skin below you. 

“Swallow that, hm? Don’t wanna make a mess out of Satoru just yet.” 

You quickly shut your mouth, drinking up Suguru’s spit like it was the most divine flavor you’ve ever tasted. 

Suguru groans at the sight, slamming into Satoru. The force causes Satoru to move up, his cock pressing into your hand. 

Your whole body shivers in pleasure, you couldn’t keep it in much longer. 

“Alright, cum for us baby.” Suguru says your name so sweetly you almost forgot the pretense it was under. 

A sob racks your body as Satoru continues devouring you, and you cum powerfully on his tongue. Satoru moans at the taste, quickly swallowing up everything you give him. You see Suguru’s shoulders tense up as he watches you cum and it takes everything in you not to collapse. 

Satoru looks pathetic under you, getting pounded into by your shared boyfriend. You speed up your hand, desperate to watch him cum. You see Satoru’s legs shake out of the corner of your eye and hear a loud whine from beneath you. Satoru’s cock twitches underneath your hand, cum shooting out on top of his stomach. 

Your hips shake, eager to see Suguru spill inside Satoru. Sweat lines his forehead, a show of his hard work. Suguru swears under his breath before squeezing his eyes shut, his cum flowing deep inside Satoru. 

You attempt to catch your breath but fail miserably as you trip over yourself. It always blew your mind at how good sex was with the two. Each time seemed better than the last. 

Suguru slowly slides out of Satoru and reaches out a hand, helping you crawl off of the other man. You weren’t sure how you looked, but you knew you looked better than Satoru. He looked like a mess under you, your cum smearing his face, his cum covering his body, and Suguru’s sweeping out from his asshole. He had a sex drunk look on his face and you weren’t sure you’d be able to snap him out of it. 

“Satoru.” Suguru ushers, leaning over and patting Satoru’s face. 

“Hm? I’m good, just give me a minute.” Satoru breathes out, closing his eyes. 

You giggle and throw your arms around Suguru, kissing him. This kiss was much more sweet and tender, filling your body with warmth. 

“I love you.” You say against his lips. 

“I love you too.” He smiles. 

“Hey, what about my love?” Satoru quips, slowly sitting up and looking at the cum slide down his body. 

You and Suguru place a kiss on each side of his face. 

A thought pops up in your brain. 

“What’re you gonna do for us since you lost?” You ask. 

“After that? Anything you want.”

[melodic-haze]

h-hey 👯‍♀️😕😜🎀

Since you said in your other post that you wanted to write for either Miko or Ei, I HAD AN IDEA!!

What if Miko and fellow kitsune!Reader who start their breeding months (in january obviously) and have Ei volunteering herself to them not knowing that they can’t obviously be sated in just one day 🙄 (r.i.p her cunny)

☆ — DEMO TRACK: switch!Miko x sub!Ei x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Reader and Miko can shift what they want (specifically their genitals 😄), knotting and breeding (not really)

☆ — NOTES: You. YOUUUUUU. Are such a genius ily anon ty for this 🙏🙏🙏

Ohhhh this bitch REALLY fucked around and found out LOL I almost feel bad.......almost

Have to hand it to Ei though, she DID try to research before proposing the idea in the first place. Especially since this is set in the first year since she got out the PoE........but studying it obv won't be the same as the real thing LOL

You and Miko have fared relatively okay on your own—the two of you have ABSOLUTELY mated before to ease each other's heat but it always felt like something was missing. You both made sure to take procedures to make sure neither of you ever concieved a child after the process with the excuse of the two of you being way too busy to care for one but like. The actual main reason was that if you were to have a child, you both wanted to have the third piece of the puzzle there with you

Now that the third member of your polycule's back, your heats are STRONGER THAN EVER bc wtf she's acc here??? Ughfhghfhh neeeeeed......like do you get me I hope you do

It wasn't as if it was a normal discussion to have out in public (you both always talked about it indoors until neither of you needed to really talk ab it anymore from all the time spent w each other) but it was a nice picnic between the three of you; Ei's head was on Miko's thighs as she ate up yet ANOTHER skewer of tricolour dango while you were leaning on the latter's side when she brought it up

Ei cleared her throat with a slight tinge of nervousness, "Could I perhaps, ah.. assist the both of you in your mating period?"

You choked on the dango that you were about to swallow as you see Miko startle the slightest bit, nearly dropping her novel in the process.

When you managed to regain your composure (or at least a modicum of it), you could only rush out a simple "'scuse me?" as Miko placed her book down to the side with a raised brow.

Miko combed her fingers through Ei's hair as she questioned, "What brought this on, dear?"

"Well..." The Archon licked her lips as she slowly got her words out, "I've.. left you two for over five hundred years. And while I'm glad that you both had each other for company whenever the season hits, I cannot deny that.. well, I feel bad, I suppose."

"You feel bad," the shrine priestess mocked, which.. really, wasn't all that undeserved, despite the fact that she was mocking the nation's leader.

"For a lack of a better word, yes." She sits up and turns to the both of you, putting the now-empty skewer aside, "Now that I have returned from my admittedly self-imposed isolation, it would be remiss of me to.. avoid my duties as your lover."

"I don't mean to be rude, Your Excellency," you teased, "but do you even know what you're saying? You've been in the Plane of Euthymia for so long; I worry for your safety."

You hear the pink fox envoy let out a quiet snort of amusement for your slight condescension (all in good faith, of course) as Ei sighed, "I think you forget that I am not a fragile mortal who needs to be coddled—I can withstand brutal wars and come out victorious."

"Besides," she adds, "I have done a fair amount of research to refresh my knowledge. I assure you both that I can take whatever it is you give me."

Miko mused, "I thought you knew better than to rely on textbook information rather than actual experiment, Ei."

"You're trying much too hard to dissuade me from my offer."

"We both deserve to rib into you for at least a couple hundred years."

"Especially considering how we've been left to fend for ourselves..."

"I.. suppose I do deserve that. And I want to make amends for it all, starting with this. So.. will you let me help? Please?" She looked at the both of you with such sincerity despite the subject matter.

...

The fact that Raiden Ei herself was begging the two of you though...

The both of you jumped her sides with sharing grins, your ears flicking in sync as you let out your own laughs.

"You should hope that you don't regret that, Ei.."

"..Because we are rather.. insatiable."

Then comes the actual thing and ohhhhh girlie was NOT prepared

When I said your heats get worse bc of how Ei's back, I fucking MEAN IT. It's the fact that that familiar sweet smell isn't just a not-quite-forgotten memory for you two anymore that it's just driving you both abslutely NUTS

When she gets to you two she gets POUNCED ON and there is. Basically no break for her at all and foreplay is basically foreGONE atp tbh

Eat her cunt like a bitch STARVED it's like both you and Miko are competing and assisting each other at the same time like who can eat her out better, who can make her squirt, etc etc

SO MANY BITE MARKS ON HER HOLY SHIT like okay yes on you and Miko as well but both of you want to mark Ei EXTREMELY for all the time you've lost with her. The both of you wanna show both Ei and perhaps the entirety of Inazuma that archon is YOURS at the end of the day......at least, if the loud noises didn't give them enough of a hint 🤷‍♀️

You're so right anon rip Ei's cunny indeed bc both you and Miko ABUSE the living HELL out of it❗️❗️❗️ You do often have to personally pry Miko off when she's overstaying in the spot you're supposed to share 🫶🫶🫶🫶 just tell her she's being a VERY bad girl rn and she'll fold. Usually she wouldn't but the haze (lol) in her mind is sooo fucking thick she can't think straight and she can't think of the witty remarks she would've otherwise made :((( poor baby the only thing she wants to do is breed and get bred :(((((((

I need to spitroast her with Miko so very badly I'm ngl to you I neeeed I NEEEEED I need to see Ei being impaled on both ends, both sides basically slobbering

It'd be very messy and would 100% take so long before you finish but when you do, it's with your fellow kitsune's own pussy practically filled to the brim and Leaking as she's laid out and finally passed out as your hips are locked in on your Archon's own; you cumming inside of you for like the nth time and stuffing her full w a mix of both your and Miko's cum and essentially plugging it with an inflamed bulb :3

Whether Ei has a system that allows her to get pregnant or not, gen who knows.......but one thing's def for sure. Or like three things acc: one, you two are VERY clearly excited that your shared lover is finally back; two, turns out she absolutely LOVES being used and bred by her two partners; and three?

It was an unusually hard thing to do, waking up. Despite having an artifical body and being an archon that has faced true horrors and extreme exhaustion, she found herself absolutely spent from the marathon.. copulation.

Ei had hoped that her exhaustion meant that the two of you were much more tired than she was, even despite your inhumanity, and yet...

Her eyes couldn't help but flutter open as a sudden gasp left her lips—she sees you push into her roughly with a lust-addled look on your face. You were already inside her when she fell asleep, considering the animalistic knot that held the both of you together, but even when it had shrunk to a more.. manageable level, you still hadn't taken it out.

Then Ei looks slightly to the right and there she sees her pink-haired familiar, heavily breathing as she grinded her wet, hot pussy onto her thighs with such loud, obscene moans.

(If the Archon listened close enough, which she did, she would've noticed the slight growl to the sounds she made—such a sound was at its most clearest when she ducked down to press another bite mark on porcelain skin.)

She couldn't even utter a word to remark that she had just woken up, didn't even have the room to do anything to stop you before you started pounding away at her like your life depended on it.

..And she could. Really, she could. She wasn't the feared Raiden Shogun for nothing.

She could stop you if she wanted to.

If she wanted to.

But when she feels the residual fluids within her gush out as you essentially resculpt her insides over and over and over, when she feels the desperate whines that Miko lets out as she cums and covers her thigh in slick, well.

She finds that she doesn't really want to.

(And really, not only was it her fault for volunteering, but this is her responsibility as your lover.)

(She knew that, and she wasn't going to start shirking her responsibilities again.)

(Even if it costs her her mobility for a while. But it's fine, she can just do a lot of maintenance after.)

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I am absolutely in love with your writing! The way you portray our boys is just *chefs kiss*

Anywho, I was wondering if I could request poly!marauders x plus size reader? Maybe she is very confident until somebody picks on her and she starts becoming obsessed with dieting and stuff. (I'm struggling a lot with that rn) just a bunch of worry and comfort from our boys.

If you don't feel comfortable writing this or just the prompt I gave it's okay. Ily!♡

Hi, thanks for requesting my love! I'm really sorry you're struggling right now, I know how hard it can be and hope you're doing your best to take good care of yourself. You're beautiful just as you are <33

cw: size insecurity, behavior that hints at disordered eating

poly!marauders x plus size!reader ♡ 1.2k words

The worst part is, you know they weren’t even really trying to insult you. 

You smiled as best you could, said your thanks politely, and moved on. Moved on outwardly, that is. Inside, the words play over and over in your head, like a song on the radio that gets worse each time you listen to it. It wasn’t that they were vicious, or particularly clever, or even wrong. It’s just, you’re not used to people commenting on your body like that. 

You know you’re not skinny. So does everyone else. Neither of you typically feel the need to confer about it. Every now and again, some cruel busybody will say something, but that’s fairly easy to brush off. They’re insecure about their own looks, they have nothing better to do than fixate on strangers’ appearances, they’ve probably been on diet pills since they were twelve. You wish them well and mostly forget about it. But what’s worse is when someone comes to you with good intentions. The idea of being perceived as pitiful or wrong—really, having your physical form perceived at all—by someone who seems to want the best for you is what really hurts. That’s what makes you want to hide, to shrink yourself down until they can’t see you anymore. To become the invisible status quo. 

It’s why, over the last few days, anything skintight or remotely showy has been relegated to the back of your closet in favor of things that hide your figure. Why you’ve stopped drawing attention to yourself with colorful makeup and instead started focusing on your health. Well, your health as it presents itself externally. 

“Anyone else fancy a dessert?” Sirius muses as you sit reading on the couch, Remus reading the next book in the series beside you. 

“Um, no,” James says, holding up a hand of cards from the game he and Sirius have been playing, “you only want to go so you don’t have to stick around and lose.” 

“Whatever my other, subconscious motives may be,” Sirius says guilelessly, “I really feel like something chocolate. Don’t you, Moons?”

That’s always a safe bet. Remus looks up from his book, intrigued. “I could go for some chocolate.” 

Sirius grins. “What about you, gorgeous?”

That’s usually a safe bet too. But you shouldn’t. “Thanks, but I’m still full from dinner.” 

Sirius looks cheated, and Remus cocks his head at you. “Really? Didn’t seem like you ate much.” He’s not wrong. Remus had made the most incredible feta pasta, it was borderline heartbreaking to leave any on your plate. But you’re trying to practice restraint, and thankfully, James had happily taken care of your leftovers for you. “Did you have a late lunch or something?”

“Mhm.” 

James looks up, eyebrows furrow bemusedly behind his glasses. “No you didn’t, angel. You said you didn’t feel like lunch after we had breakfast together, remember?”

“Oh.” You nod. So what? You’d had a late breakfast, and a decently sized dinner, and why do you really need more than two meals anyway? Who made that rule? You’re a bit hungry, but your body just needs time to adjust to your new routine. It’s used to overindulging. And nothing about today means you deserve dessert. “Right.” 

Sirius wraps his fingers delicately around your ankle, smoothing a path up your shin with his palm. “Darling,” he says, and he looks distracted as he runs his fingers over the old scars on your knee, but you know him well enough to recognize when he’s keyed in, “did you eat anything today, other than breakfast and that little bit of dinner? Any snacks or anything?” 

You can’t help the little rush of pride that goes through you. “No.” 

Sirius doesn’t look proud. In fact, he’s frowning, as are Remus and James. You change tactics. “I’m not really hungry, though.” 

“No?” Sirius' voice is unsettlingly gentle. “Why don’t you want to have dessert tonight, pretty girl?”

“Because,” you say, beginning to feel defensive (though you’re not sure of what), “I don’t need it.” 

“It’s not about need, though,” James says, and why is it beginning to feel like you’re in an argument? “It’s about what you want. Do you want a little something sweet?”

“I…” Yes. The answer is yes, but do you want it more than you want to feel good about yourself? “I think what I want more is to prove to myself that I can go without it.” 

Remus’ scars shift as his face scrunches in concern. “Dove,” he says, and you can’t decide if his tone is more reprimand or pity. You don’t like either option. “Where is this coming from?” 

“I’m just…I’m trying something new,” you decide. “I want to lose a little weight, okay? Nothing crazy.” 

“But why?” James sets down his cards, looking completely befuddled. “Angel, you’re gorgeous. You can do whatever you want, but we love you just like you are.” 

“And,” Sirius adds before you can reply, “we love you most when you’re happy. I sort of thought,” he says, lowering his voice like he’s telling you a secret, “that our late-night treat runs made you happy. No?”

“They do.” You pull your legs up onto the couch, away from Sirius’ touch. “I just…I think it would make me happy to be a more normal size, too.” 

Remus looks gutted. “Honey, you…it’s your body, and you should do whatever feels right for you to be healthy, but…we love you like this,” he insists, ardent. “You’re beautiful, I mean it, and I hate the idea that you might want to change for…well, for anyone other than yourself.” 

You hesitate. You’re not actually sure who you’re doing this for. When had you become one of the people who want for you to be smaller so desperately? “You seriously don’t think I would look better if I were thinner?” You’ve never been one to put much stock into what any men think of your appearance, so you feel silly for asking, but you’re in a vulnerable state. And really, don’t all guys want a girl that looks like the love interests in the movies you all grew up with? 

James looks you in the eye, letting you see the earnestness in his as he says, “You’re absolutely lovely, right here, right now. We wouldn’t change a thing.” 

Your answering smile is oddly watery. Remus makes an awfully lovely cooing sound, leaning over to wrap an arm around your waist and paying no mind to the chub there as he pulls you into his side. “Don’t be upset, darling. You know what I bet will cheer you up?” He smiles as you look up at him questioningly, kissing between your brows. “Some chocolate. How would you feel about that?”

You let out a quiet little laugh. “Pretty good.” 

“Yes!” Sirius pumps his fist in the air, already abandoning his cards and standing up. “I knew you’d come through, gorgeous. Now I think the more pressing question is, do we want chocolate pastries or chocolate ice cream?”

“Ice cream, obviously,” James says. “Before it gets so cold out we don’t feel like it.” 

“Not all of us suffer from weather constraints,” Sirius argues. “I vote pastry.” 

“Why would you bring ice cream up if you didn’t want it? Think long and hard, Pads. Are you going to feel like a frozen dessert when you need three layers to go outside in a few weeks?”

Remus rolls his eyes at you as you follow them out the door, letting your boys continue their bickering all the way to the store.

[thetempleofhades]

victors and fools

i just finished the whole lyney and lynette court case and oh my god..... i had to write something out for it because i'm full of ideas and no way to get them out other than my silly little brain rots.

it's surprising that a crime could take place in such a place as The Opera Epiclese, but you're not surprised that Furina is taking her chance to try and prove herself superior to the powerful outlander, especially after her first attempt was foiled by none other than the accused.

But even then, you don't interfere. You see no reason to, after all Furina would never stoop as low as falsely accusing someone to get her way, neither you nor Neuvillette would allow her to go that far.

Speaking of Neuvillette, he's one of the other reasons you're not interfering. He takes his job of Chief Justice seriously, as he should, for the sake of Fontaine and the justice it upholds. So, the outcome will be the truth.

You don't really care about any of that, you want to see the Traveler in action as an attorney. It should be funny enough to see them bring Furina down a peg.

As much as you adored her, she could be arrogant at times. Sly and demanding, you usually didn't mind but her near desperation to prove herself above the traveller and paimon was becoming annoying.

You sat in a seat that had been guided to, where everyone could only look up and see you, watching it all pass on with amusement or a contemplating look.

as the trial came to its conclusion and Furina's accusation was proved wrong, she looked over at you as you got up. Your starry eyes glanced over at her, unreadable.

That was new. You always allowed yourself to be an open book around those of your acolytes that you spent your times with. Usually a smile graced your face as you looked at her but a frown marred your lips as you turned and left, not stopping even as she ran out after you, shouting after you.

"Y-your Grace!" She called out for you, easily catching up to your slowed pace as she looked up at you, a nervous guilt in her eyes. "I-If I had only known-"

"You accused him and instigated a second duel with the traveler." You mused, looking down at her, the look on your face indicating that you were thinking. "....To prove that you were above them, above the other Archons?"

She frantically tried to figure out if you were truly upset at her. There was no rain or thunder or anything indicating that Teyvat had responded to you upset feelings. She relaxed only a bit. "I am above them! All of them! They were defeated so easily, I won't be. B... But, I will no longer regard them as a threat..."

You looked down at her for a moment as if looking right into her soul before you sighed, the same ever-suffering sigh you always let out when she caused chaos and dragged it right to you. "Haah, what will I do with you?" You rubbed your face gently. "You can be so irritatingly arrogant sometimes. Don't tell me you did this just because you're jealous of the attention and praise i gave them?"

Furina turned her face away from him, leading you to raise an eyebrow down at her form. "...Okay, I won't tell you anything, Your Grace."

"You're insufferable." You sighed as you started to walk forward again, not saying a word as she hurried to catch up to you once more, clinging to your arm. "....That dessert shop you like is still open, do you still want to get dessert? 'One must always have dessert after entertainment'." You imitated her voice in the last part, still looking forward.

She smiled brightly up at you, still clinging to you. "Mmm! Your Grace knows me so well, I'm honored! Let's get dessert!" She seemed happy by it so you let it be.

Just another day for the Hydro Archon and the Creator of Teyvat.

[zepskies]

Midnight Espresso

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized/Latina!Reader 

Summary: You’ve never taken Dean’s flirting seriously…until he asks you for an impromptu Spanish lesson. 

AN: The muse hit me hard on this one last night lol. I felt like "Midnight Espresso" was catchier than the working title, "Midnight Coffee Shots."

Thanks for the encouragement and inspo: @deanwinchesterswitch @iprobablyshipit91 @freewastelandstrawberry

Song Inspo: "2 Be Loved (Am I Ready)" by Lizzo

Word Count: 7,000

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, mutual pining, body insecurity, ass appreciation, supernatural shenanigans, naughty language, bad bitch o’clock and thicc thirty. 

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

When you spot the caller ID on your buzzing cell phone, you have to smile. You answer the call.

“Well if it isn’t Dean I need a favor Winchester,” you tease. You hear his genuine chuckle, deep and smooth in your car speakers. 

“Hey, sweetheart…” He hesitates, which makes your lips curve wryly. 

“Yeah, Dean? What’cha got?”

“I need a favor.”

You sigh dramatically. “So fucking predictable.”

“Sorry, but look. We really do need you…we’ve got a situation.”

“Oh, a situation? How specific,” you chuckle.

“All right, smartass,” he says, but you can hear the amusement in his voice. “Just listen…”

When he tells you the lowdown on the case he and Sam are on, you have to change directions—all the way to a dusty little town in the south of Texas.

There you find the brothers Winchester outside La Cantina Libre. 

You greet Sam first, stretching up to meet his hug. He’s friendly and warm when he rubs your back.

“Good to see you,” he says. 

“You too, lumberjack,” you reply, noting the new layer of scruff he’s sporting on his face. Sam gives a dry chuckle and rubs his bearded chin.

“I keep tellin’ him to shave that ferret off his face,” Dean remarks. You turn to him with a grin just as he pulls you in next. 

“Aw, he looks good,” you say, giving Sam an encouraging look behind Dean’s back. The taller Winchester sports a good-natured smile. 

But you revel a bit in Dean’s warmth when he holds you tight, then let out a little breath when he pulls away, grasping your arms.

“So do you,” he says with a wink. 

You roll your eyes and playfully hit his shoulder. “Right. Eight hours of cross-country grime really becomes me.”

But you can’t help blushing a little at his smirk. Always a fucking flirt.

You turn your head to the bar in front of you. 

“What’s the deal with this place?”

“The husband of one of the victims is inside,” Sam explains. 

According to the police report, his wife returned home from a night out with her friends three days ago. She sat down in the middle of the living room, on the ground. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t eat. 

When Hector Rivera brought his wife to the hospital, neither fluids or medication helped her sleep or retain any nutrients. The official cause of death was starvation and dehydration.

It was a baffling case, both for the doctors and the police, who never found any criminal evidence to support a murder investigation.

“Okay, have you talked to Hector?” you ask. Dean raises his brows at you.

“That’s where you come in,” he says. “The guy only speaks Spanish. Neither me or Sam got the chops to Duolingo our way through.”

You can certainly believe that of Dean, but you still make sure to tease Sam on your way inside the bar. He’d studied Latin in high school, but hadn’t bothered to take Spanish? 

“Definitely a white boy move,” you tease, which Sam accepts with a chuckle. 

But you realize that the guys really would’ve been at a loss here. Most of the bar patrons are Spanish-speaking Latinos (you are a mere stone’s throw from the border of Mexico, after all). 

You ask around for Hector and find him at the end of the bar, drinking alone. He’s early forties at most, dark hair, tan skin mere shades lighter than yours. He has three shots down in front of him, and he’s working on picking up his fourth. Sam and Dean trail after you as you slide into the stool next to Hector. 

“Señor Rivera,” you greet him in your native tongue and pull out your fabricated police badge. “Good evening.”

He glances at you, then your badge with furrowed brows. 

“What do you want?” he asks in Spanish, just a hint slurring. 

“I’m very sorry about your wife. I know you’ve already given your statement, but we’re looking further into the circumstances surrounding Nina’s death,” you explain. 

He perks up at that, his brown eyes briefly lighting with something other than cold, hard grief. 

“The doctors couldn’t explain it, he admits. “They couldn’t do a damn thing. I just don’t understand…”

He glares down at his hands, at the glass of liquor between them. He fights to control himself, but you can see it’s a losing battle. You rest a gentle hand on his arm, and when Hector meets your eyes, you know he’ll find genuine sympathy. 

“I want to help you,” you tell him. “At the very least, I can look for a real explanation on what happened to Nina. Can you tell me what you know?”

A moment later, he pats your hand on his arm. And he tells you.

Dean watches from his spot behind you while he and Sam blend in, each drinking a beer. Dean admires how easily you connect with people. How genuine you are in wanting to help them. 

He knows you’ve spent years in this job. Maybe not as long as him, but long enough to get jaded. You aren’t, and you care. 

Dean thinks it’s part of the reason why you always answer when he calls. You’ve never said no to him, always been there when he and Sam need you. And that, he somehow feels guilty about.

Because what the fuck has he really ever done for you, other than put you in danger?

“Dean,” Sam says, nudging his side. 

It brings Dean back to the present when he sees you’re getting up from the bar. Despite his inner conflict, he can’t help but notice the curve of your ample ass in those tight jeans. An enticing ratio of thick thighs to smaller waist, and generous cup size to match. 

But when you turn around, it’s your sad smile that grabs his attention. You draw near, and Dean forces himself to stay relaxed when your warm hand rests on his forearm. 

It’s a familiar, comfortable thing for you to be touchy. You’re an expressive person, always talking with your hands, full-body animated when you tell stories.

Sometimes you’ll grab his wrist playfully, or brush your hand along his back when you pass by. Or you’ll grab his shoulder to steady yourself, and lean into him when you’ve had too much to drink. 

Dean likes it—all of it. In fact, he finds it endearing as hell. 

But it’s also a problem. A unique kind of torture to keep himself in check around you… 

Frankly, he doesn’t think you know what your touch does to him. 

In fact, he knows you don’t, because while you’ve got your smooth, tan hand on his arm, you’re more looking at Sam when you say:

“I think I know what this is.”

“El Sombrerón,” you repeat yourself as you flip through a book on South American lore. 

“Shouldn’t you be an expert on this already?” Dean teases as you rifle through the pages. “I thought Latin American legends were right up your alley.”

The three of you are back at their delightfully crap motel of the week. You and Sam sit at the two-seater table while Dean leans against the wall with his arms crossed.

You shoot him a wry glance. “I’m Cuban, not Guatemalan. Though apparently, El Sombrerón appears in Mexican mythology as well.”

Hector said that the night his wife went to the bar with her friends, her friend Jennine saw a man with a black jacket and a hat to match. 

She said he flirted with Nina, a sweet but introverted soul. She turned him down, of course, but he tried to cajole her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and touch her cheek. That’s when Jennine stepped in and cursed the guy out, threatening to break his nose if he didn’t back off. 

They didn’t see him again that night, but you suspect the damage had been done the moment he touched her…

“All right, so he’s a boogeyman of sorts,” Sam says, gesturing at the vivid illustration in the book he’s holding. You peer over at the page and nod.

“Yeah, I’ve heard the cautionary tale. A man dressed in black, wide-brimmed hat—”

“Like Zorro,” Dean supplies. You give him an amused grin.

“No, not like Zorro,” you reply. “Instead of being a fine-ass caped crusader with a voice deep and gritty as sin, El Sombrerón likes to lure women into the woods.” 

Dean raises a brow at your description (Deep and gritty as sin, huh?), but you continue.

“Specifically, he’s got a fetish for long hair,” you recount. “Here it says El Sombrerón’s voice and touch are a curse, rendering his victims unable to eat or sleep. Eventually, they die.”

That falls between you all like hot lead. Until Sam voices the question you’re all thinking.

“So how do we find him?”

“For the record, I’m against this fucking idea,” Dean mutters to his brother. Once again, they’re patrons of La Cantina Libre, each nursing a beer. 

“Yeah, you’ve made that known a few times now,” Sam replies in a low whisper. “She’ll be okay, Dean. We’re right here for her.”

They’re just on standby, watching you ignore flirtations from men with a coy smile. You leave a delicate ring of red lipstick on your straw while you nurse a Tequila Sunrise. 

Dean subtly (to Sam, not so subtly) watches you. His elbow rests on the counter, chin in hand, hand over mouth, while his eyes roam down your simple black dress. Your ankles are crossed under the bar counter. The toe of your platform heel bouncing against the foot rail is the only thing telling Dean that you’re a bit nervous.

You’ve let your hair down on purpose, trying to entice the “Zorro” monster with the smooth waves running down your back.

On any other night, Dean might’ve enjoyed this place. He has a good beer in hand. There’s some live music tonight, in the form of a man playing a shiny silver guitar, crooning into the mic. You turn your head to watch for a moment, and Dean sees the way your gaze sharpens on the musician. 

The man wears a black dress shirt rolled up to the elbows, tucked neatly into his dark wash jeans. His black hair is long and a little wild, almost brushing his shoulders. While he holds out a smooth note, he looks up and finds your gaze. His lips curve on a smile.

Your face heats up at the attention, but you find yourself captivated by those eyes. They’re intense, almost black under the stage lights. And as the musician’s song comes to a close, you feel a trill of something run down your spine when he sets down his silver guitar. 

Then he makes his way toward you.

He settles into the free seat next to you and orders two tequila shots.

“I have a drink, thanks,” you say. The man only smiles. 

“You’ve been holding onto that Sunrise for two hours,” he says. “I just thought you might like something stronger, before the sun actually comes up.”

Inside, you want to roll your eyes at the cheesy line.

Instead, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and his gaze is drawn to the motion. You notice it with mounting suspicion. 

“Maybe I do,” you reply. “What’s your name?”

“Miguel,” he says, offering a charming smile. “And yours, amor?”

You consider him with flirtatious eyes and a tilt of your head. You’re fairly certain you have your target.

You lay a hand on his arm, over his jacket. You lean in close enough to whisper in his ear. 

“Do you really need my name?” you ask in Spanish. 

Miguel smirks when you lean back. He offers you his hand to help you off of your stool. Wary of actually touching his skin to yours, you try your best to be graceful and sensuous as you slide out of your seat and onto your heels without his help. You then walk out of the bar through the back without waiting for him to follow you (hoping that he does).

Your instincts are right, however. When you make it out of the bar, Miguel is indeed closing in behind you. You glance over your shoulder, offering a coy smile. But when you look ahead, you have to utter a gasp. 

Miguel is suddenly there to grab you and pull you in by your waist. 

“When will your friends be joining us?” he asks, trailing a finger down your cheek. It makes you shudder, but you pretend to be confused.

“Friends?”

“Dumb and dumber, watching you like a hawk,” he says, raising a brow. “Oh, mi amor. I know a pack of hunters when I see them.”

Sam and Dean watch the musician run back for his guitar, slipping it carefully in its case before he takes off after you. 

“Get the guitar. Got a feeling about that thing,” Dean says to Sam. “I’ll follow ‘em.”

The moment Dean walks out the back of the bar, he stops short and draws his gun. His body tenses and his face falls into a glare when he sees Miguel holding you close (and against your will). But Miguel catches sight of Dean.

He forcefully turns you around and wraps an arm across your chest, pulling you back as you struggle. 

“Good evening,” Miguel greets with a smirk. He nods at the full moon. “Beautiful night for a lover’s serenade.”

His voice alone is a threat, Dean knows. And by the way your eyes widen, so do you. 

“Shut the fuck up, Mike,” Dean snarks. “Mind if I call you Mike?”

He raises his gun, but Miguel tsks at him. You grit your teeth as he pulls your hair back away from your cheek. His breath is hot an unpleasant in your ear, causing you to shudder.

“I do wish we had more time, amor,” he says, trailing a hand down your ass and thigh. “I like to play with my food.”

A hot lance of anger runs through Dean, but it runs even hotter through you, igniting your temper and making your patience run right the fuck out. You snap your head back and catch Miguel in the nose. He wrenches back with a pained cry.

You try to ignore the resulting ache in your head and reach for the silver knife in your thigh holster, beneath your dress. But Miguel grabs you by the hair. Suddenly his face has become grotesque, revealing its true form with a mouth filled with sharp, needle-like teeth.

You gasp as a trill of magic runs through your body from his touch. It paralyzes you as he wrenches your neck back and prepares to bite a chunk right out of your neck. 

But Dean shoots a warning shot by the creature’s head, all-too close to yours as he approaches. 

“Hey!” Sam calls out. He attracts everyone’s attention, even Miguel’s. Sam holds the silver guitar. 

“This is what you use to play Pied Piper, right?” Sam asks. Miguel’s face hardens, but before he can do anything about it, Sam smashes the guitar to smithereens on the gravel road. 

Miguel lets out an outraged hiss. While he’s distracted, Dean takes another shot that hits the creature in the shoulder. It gives you the opening you need to grab your knife and stab him in the leg.

Miguel cries out in pain, but before you can scramble away, he grabs your face. His sharpened nails bite into your skin, making you wince. You manage to kick out his knee. It forces him to release you, unless he wants to eat the ground hard. 

Sam is there to catch you while Dean closes in. He shoots, the creature evades, grabbing Dean’s wrist and punching him across the face. The hunter goes down to the gravel with hands held out to brace himself. But he has a large knife on his belt that he retrieves next, only to be knocked out of his hand when Miguel bears on him. 

He throws off Sam’s attempt to pull him off Dean, throwing him hard against the dumpster in the alley. 

While Dean grapples bare-handed with the monster, trying his best to evade gnashing teeth in his face, you find his discarded knife and bury it deep into Miguel’s back. 

He howls with pain and tries to throw you off. He manages to backhand you in the face and shove you away. You nearly roll an ankle on the small rocks rolling under your heels, and you end up on your back with the wind knocked out of you. 

But Dean’s able to kick Miguel off and finish what you started. Dean pins the man on the ground and twists the knife deeper. And he doesn’t let go until the creature below him stops twitching. 

Dean takes in deep breaths to account for the way adrenaline has set his blood pumping. He still sits on the ground with the body next to him. But then, he finds you kneeling next to him in your now dusty dress. Your eyes are worried when you grasp his shoulder and lay another hand lightly on his scuffed knee. 

Dean reaches for you on reflex, grabbing your arm. Both of you manage to ask your burning questions at the same time—

“You okay?”

“Are you all right?”

You crack first with a giggle. Dean quirks a grin and thumbs at your cheek. 

“Yeah, all good,” he says. 

Your relieved smile reaches your eyes, and it warms him. “Good.”

Behind you both, Sam hides his own knowing smile.

Sam and Dean invite you to stay over at the bunker after the hunt, instead of making the even longer drive home. You’re too exhausted to say no.

By the time you get to the bunker, you’re dead on your feet, practically swaying down the stairs. 

“I’m so fuckin’ tiiiired…”

“Come on, stop whining,” Dean teases as he helps you down. Sam has dropped your duffel bag on the ground floor and gone on ahead to shower, leaving you and Dean to figure this out. 

“Why don’t you just take off the heels?” he wryly suggests.

“Hell no,” you refuse with a stubborn shake of your head.

You don’t want to contemplate how much monster guts have glossed the stairs of this bunker, via the brothers’ boots. 

Maybe it’s a silly reason to suffer, but is it really suffering if you have Dean Winchester escorting you with both hands down the stairs? 

His hands are warm and you trust the strength of his hold, but when your heel wobbles on the edge of a step, you still go for the railing rather than sink all your weight on Dean. He laughs at you, and you maturely stick out a tongue at him. 

“At this point, it’d be faster if I freakin’ carried you,” Dean remarks. He reaches for you, but you stop him with a heel in his sternum.

“Eh-eh! Don’t even try,” you laugh. “I totally got this.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but you lower your heeled foot and manage to climb down the last few steps of the rickety staircase…at least, what your exhausted brain thinks is the last one. 

You almost go ass over tea kettle when you miss the final stair with a yelp—but Dean is there to catch you. 

His arms are like steel bands around your frame, curving around your lower back and pulling you flush against his chest. You gasp and cling to his arms. When you look up at him with wide eyes, you find his amused face…and maybe something else in his eyes. He tilts his head down at you. 

“Well, well. Look who keeps falling for me?” he remarks. 

You blush at the flirtatious edge of his tone. The gleam in his green eyes; you take it for amusement only, not realizing that he’s barely resisting the urge to claim your lips. 

“Right,” you laugh him off with a pat on his chest. “When was the first time again?”

You make sure your heels are firmly on the ground before you push away from Dean. As you thought, he doesn’t try to keep you. He still looks amused as he lets you go.

He flirts with anything, you remind yourself, when disappointment starts to carve a hole in your heart. Don’t take it so seriously.

You say goodnight before you take up your duffel bag and go to find a free bedroom (and a hot shower). All the while, you bite your lip against a deep-seated feeling of uncertainty.

Dean watches you go, and you don’t see the way his mask of a smile fades into a frown. 

After a nice hot shower and changing into your pajamas, that moment with Dean has unsettled you enough that you're not quite ready to go to sleep. Maybe you’re in the mood for a midnight snack. 

You take out a couple of supplies from your bag and head over to the kitchen. There you set up your little cafetera coffee press with water, and a generous few tablespoons of Café Bustelo grounds of espresso. While that brews on the stove, you make some popcorn in the microwave. 

You don’t realize that the rich smell reaches Dean all the way in his room. He sniffs the air in interest, then in confusion. 

She’s making coffee at midnight? 

He gets up out of bed and pads down to the kitchen where you’ve taken over. A large bowl of popcorn is ready and waiting for him to snatch a handful, while you’re checking the little metal carafe you have going on the stove. 

“What’cha up to, sweetheart?” he asks. You greet him with a smile. 

“Café con leche,” you reply. 

Coffee with milk, he mentally translates. That much, he can work out. 

“You drink coffee at this time of night?” he asks. 

“My people invented it. I’ve been inoculated to this stuff since I was eight years old,” you quip. “Want some? Believe me, you’ll love it.”

He shrugs. “Sure. But if I end up too wired to fucking sleep, be prepared to suffer with me.”

You laugh. “I���m sure we’ll figure out something to do.”

Dean’s not sure if you meant that as flirtatious as it sounded. But by your briefly widening eyes and blushing cheeks, maybe you just realized it. He smirks and draws closer while you break out two mugs from the cabinet. 

He notices your chosen pajamas with secret appreciation (a large threadbare Journey shirt over spandex shorts). You fill the little shorts out well. 

Though Dean spots several small holes in the shirt. He teasingly sticks his finger through one in your short sleeve. 

“Lose a fight with a pair of scissors?” he jokes. 

You shoot him an amused glance over your shoulder.

“You are the reigning king of dad jokes. I’ll have you know, this is my lucky shirt.”

He snorts in response. “What makes it lucky?”

You just bite your lip and focus back on your task at hand. With the coffee done percolating, you measure out two steaming shots of espresso into each mug. 

“Hey, you brought it up,” Dean reminds you. 

You sigh, and after you pour in the sugar and the evaporated milk into each mug, you turn around and lean against the counter. 

“I’ve never had a bad dream while wearing this shirt to bed,” you confess. His teasing gentles at that. 

When you turn back around to put the finishing touches on what you’re doing, Dean’s expression becomes more fond as he watches you. 

You then offer him his Batman mug with a brighter smile. 

“Buen provecho,” you say.

“What does that mean?” he asks predictably, taking the mug from you. 

“Enjoy! Like bon appetite, basically.”

“Ah,” he raises his brows before he takes a sip. Then they raise even higher as he hums in pleasure. “Ooh, it’s sweet…and strong. Shit.”

“Very,” you say with a chuckle, taking your own sip. You make a sound of delight, complete with a little “happy dance” shimmy. “Almost as good as my grandma makes it.”

Dean smiles in amusement at your antics. The two of you sit at the kitchen island, where there are three stools and the bowl of popcorn. The salty snack is just the right balance for the sweet coffee.

“She taught you how to make this?” he asks. 

You nod. “Yep! She’s an amazing cook too. Learned everything I know from her.”

“Hmm, might need to sample something of yours sometime,” Dean says, peering at you over his mug. His tone is deceptively light, but you read the double meaning in his eyes.

You hide the way your mouth falls open behind your own mug. Instead of answering, you nod and take a delicate sip. Your gaze veers away from his as you blush.

He’s in a good mood tonight, you think in bemusement. 

“So tell me. What are the best curse words in Spanish?” Dean asks. 

You have to laugh. Your head ducks as you reach for his arm. His eyes briefly go to your hand, and he smirks. 

“Of course that’s the first thing you want to know,” you tease. You take back your hand and think about his question. “Hmm…I mean, there are the basics. Coño, carajo. Like 'damn it,' 'fucking hell,' and so forth.”

“Come on, you can do better than that,” Dean says. 

“Well, yeah,” you say with a grin. “Comemierda is a Cuban fan favorite.”

“Which means?”

“Literally? Someone who eats shit,” you laugh. “A stupid asshole, basically.”

Dean’s grin deepens. “Nice.”

“The best one of all time is probably…ugh, my mom would wash my mouth out with soap for even saying it.” You cover your face with both hands, but Dean nudges your elbow. 

“Come on, give it to me,” he teases. You peek out at him from between your hands. Then you stage whisper to him.

“Hijo de la gran puta,” you say. It rolls off your tongue in such a way that, even though Dean knows it’s vulgar in some way, the ease in which you say it raises the hairs on his arms. 

“I like that,” he says. 

You giggle at him. “You don’t even know what the fuck it means.”

“Don’t matter. I just like how it sounds,” he says. “Gimme the Google Translate.”

You shoot him a narrowed look for that one. “It means son of the grand whore. Literally, the chiefest of them all. The grand poohbah of whores.” 

Dean splutters with laughter. His hand slaps the table, and you shush him, reminding him that Sam is probably sleeping by now.

“It’s literally one of the worst things you can say to somebody,” you say, though you’re also choking on laughter. By the end of it, you and Dean are chortling like fools and getting high on espresso and sugar. 

You teach him how to roll his r’s, and at his request, more slang. You explain how certain Hispanics and Latino cultures use different words for the same thing (at times, very confusing), and how something innocent to an American, like a papaya fruit, means something very different for Cubans. 

For Dean’s part, he’s genuinely interested in what you have to teach him. But he also just likes hearing you speak the language. It rolls off your tongue gracefully, effortless and sensuous without you meaning to. He likes it enough that he tells you his honest thoughts.

“It all sounds incredibly hot, I’m not gonna lie,” he says with a chuckle. You blush at that, something he finds endearing. 

“You sound like my ex,” you say in amusement. “He only went out with me to help him with his Spanish.”

Dean sobers a bit at that. “What?”

“Yeah.” You chuckle dryly. “He was trying to land some job as a strip club bouncer, but we were in Miami at the time. They needed someone bilingual.”

Dean doesn’t like the resigned tone of your voice. 

“Yeah well, the bouncer?” he remarks, trying for a teasing bump of his hand against yours. “Come on. You should at least be aiming for the owner.”

You flash him a brief smile and nod. “Ah, so I set my sights too low. Got it.”

It’s then that Dean starts to wonder about the kinds of guys you’ve gotten with in the past. Not that he has room to judge, but he can see that there was no love lost there for you. 

Dean has a thought, deep in his bones, that you deserve someone who sees how special you are. How kind, funny, loyal, caring…

“Seriously,” Dean says. “You can do better.”

“Right,” you laugh. But he’s not laughing. You raise a brow at him.

“What?” you ask.

His lips purse, but he thinks better of what he wants to say. 

“Nothing. ‘S none of my business,” he says. 

You stare back at him and frown thoughtfully. You think you’re lucky to get a date, the way you constantly move around. 

You don’t have stability, and even though you try to keep in shape, try to avoid the shittier fast food, it’s been a challenge to maintain yourself. You worry that you’ve gained five pounds in diner food alone in the past couple of months…

Okay, mostly, you’re happy with your curves. But the way Dean’s looking at you now, you can’t help a flutter of hope that rises in your chest, making your heart beat faster.  

Maybe you’re finally ready to know how he really sees you. 

“Talk to me, Dean,” you nod, and you reach out a hand to grasp his wrist. 

He looks down at your hand. After a moment, he sighs and lays his own over yours. He meets your gaze. 

“Look, I think I hear what you’re not saying,” Dean says. “And you’re sellin’ yourself short, sweetheart. That’s all.”

It takes you a moment, but a soft smile spreads across your face. It warms him in a way he doesn’t expect, but maybe he should. 

Biting your lip with a bit of embarrassment, you squeeze his hand before you get up to take the two empty mugs with you to the sink. 

“Que hombre tan pendejo, hermoso,” you mutter. “Ni siquiera sabes lo que me haces.”

You don’t realize that Dean actually hears you. He perks up, standing from his seat and approaching you from behind. 

“What was that?” he asks. 

You jump slightly, and a blush burns down your neck as you turn off the sink and spin back around. Dean is there, crossing his arms and staring you down with a raised brow. A hint of a smirk begins to edge around his mouth.

“What?” you ask.

“Oh, no. You said something just now,” he says. Like a dog with a bone, he’s not going to let this one go.

Your lips threaten to smile, but you shake your head stubbornly. “You’ll just have to invest in that Duolingo subscription.”

Dean joins you by the sink. His hand braces on the kitchen counter. 

“Well, either you’re insulting me, or you’re flirting with me,” Dean says.

His lips then edge into a smirk. “The first one I could forgive, but the second…might require some retribution.”

Your eyes slowly widen. “What, why?”

Dean has to chuckle, because your expression is all but an admission of guilt. It’s too damn adorable. 

“Because you can’t flirt with me without me knowin’ about it,” he says. “That’s just rude.”

His hands brace the counter on either side of you, trapping you in. The only way to get through him is to tell him the truth, or suffer the consequences.

You gaze up at him with wide eyes and a full flush across your tan skin. Is he actually doing this right now?

Your heart beats loud in your ears like conga drums. 

“So which is it, sweetheart?” Dean asks. His playful, but singularly focused green-eyed gaze tells you he really does want an answer.

“Well, it was kinda both,” you say with a shy, but mischievous smile. Dean’s smirk deepens.

He tucks a finger beneath your chin and lets his thumb brush your full lower lip… 

Then he leans down to kiss you thoroughly. His plush lips move over yours, hot, wet, and sinfully good. 

But it’s also short—much too short for your liking when he parts from you to gauge your reaction. He seems to like what he finds in your eyes.

“Was that the punishment?” you tease. “Kinda weak.”

Dean raises a brow. “Consider it a start.”

He pulls you into him by your waist and continues where he left off, with another searing kiss. You hum with pleasure against his lips as your fingers delve into his hair. 

His hands move down your back, making a shiver of delight coarse through you. They land on cradling your ass, squeezing and pressing you into him. 

You gasp into his mouth. You can feel his length already hard against you. That alone trills anticipation down your spine, and a dizzy feeling, the fact that your touch is turning him on. You nip at his lower lip in response, licking into his mouth. It elicits a sound deep in his throat as his touch becomes more demanding. 

He then bends down to reach behind your thighs, and before you know what’s happening, you squeal when he lifts you up on the counter. 

You grab his shoulders like a cat clinging to the edge of a bath.

Damn, he’s strong!

“What’s the matter?” he laughs. 

“I’m just not used to being manhandled,” you quip. “These hips don’t lie, but they definitely don’t fly.” 

Dean snorts. “Says who?”

“My ex, for one thing,” you joke again. Though it isn’t actually a joke.

Dean, again, isn’t laughing. 

His hands aren’t large enough to span your thighs, but it’s not for lack of trying. His firm touch burning up your parted thighs are distracting, warm over your skin, and over your thin shorts. His thumbs dip between your inner thighs, making you breathe a bit more shallowly. 

“I get the feeling that you’ve been with some ain’t shit guys,” Dean says. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t lump me in with the rest of ‘em.”

Your eyes widen. Dean grins down at you and takes the opportunity to kiss you again. His hand disappears in your hair and he presses kisses down your neck. A pleasant tingle breaks out across your skin as you tilt your head for him, giving him access. 

Your fingers begin toying with his collar and glide down his chest. Unlike you, everything about him is firm, you think. But you start to think that he likes your softness, the thickness of your curves.

You didn’t take him for an ass man, but he seems very happy to get a fistful of it. It’s as flattering as it is arousing.

“I’ve wanted to get this perfect ass in my hands since the day we met,” he says. His voice is deep, full of grit and desire, but what he says next surprises you even more. 

“Wanted to ask you out that night,” he confesses. 

You pause at that. You met Sam and Dean two years ago already. The fact that he’d wanted to ask you out was one thing, but he’d been holding onto this for two years?

“Really?” you ask. 

Dean reads your incredulity, huffing a laugh. “You’re really finding that hard to believe right now?” 

He rocks against your clothed core so you can feel his reaction to you. You instinctively gasp and hold onto him. You slide your arms around his back to keep him close, even though you’re blushing. He holds you back, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

“Well, why didn’t you then?” you ask. But he hesitates to answer you. 

“Dean?” you press.

“It…never seemed the right time,” he says. “And to be honest, you didn’t seem all that interested.”

Until now, goes unspoken. But you frown up at him. 

“You don’t really believe that,” you say. 

Dean leans back a bit, so you move your hands to his chest, gripping the fabric of his undershirt to he doesn’t go too far. He looks down at you, a bit uncertain for the first time. You can’t believe that he could possibly be insecure about your interest and affections. 

“I attract a lot of crap in my life,” he admits. “Shit you want no part of.”

You soften further at that. Someone who was just going to hook up with you once and never call you again didn’t consider things like that. You grab onto the lapels of his plaid shirt and press a soft kiss to his jaw.

“Well, that’s a stupid reason,” you say. Is this the real reason he only calls you when he really needs the help?

Maybe it’s his convoluted way of protecting you…while maybe, still wanting to see you.

“It’s really not,” Dean shakes his head. “Truth be told…I’m no good for you either.”

That disheartens you. 

You’re in this job too. And while you know that Sam and Dean are often at the center of a lot of Apocalypse-level shit, you still don’t think it’s an excuse to keep both you and Dean from possibly…being happy.

His gaze is steady, until it starts to lower away from you. You take his face in your hands, picking him back up to meet your eyes. Your thumbs caress the prickly stubble along his cheeks.

“Apparently I get with a lot of ain’t shit guys,” you reply, “but you’re definitely not one of them, Dean.”

He flickers at a smile, but he still isn’t convinced you two should do this after all.

So it’s up to you, you realize. 

You bring him down to you for a kiss. It’s slow at first. You ply him with short, sweet presses of your lips to his. But then you both inhale as you deepen the kiss, tilting your head and prying his lips with your tongue. He can’t help but welcome you in, and he takes you back into his arms.

You smile against his lips, letting your hands run down his chest and under the top layer of plaid. He shrugs out of it, then the undershirt as you help him tug it up. It falls in a heap on the floor, followed closely by your hole-ridden Journey shirt, then your little shorts.

Dean takes in the sight of your flushed skin, the rise and fall of your breasts, and even the hesitant downturn of your lips. You’re a bit self-conscious, bared for him for the first time, but he doesn’t give you a reason to have any reservations. 

His hands cup your breasts, squeezing and kneading, rolling his thumbs over the hardening buds. You let out a shaky breath against his lips, and you veer away from his mouth to burn a hot, wet trail down his neck. His voice rumbles, and you smile, nipping playfully and touching him wherever you see fit. 

“Tell me what you said before,” he rasps into your ear.

You remain playfully tight-lipped as you continue to shower his bare skin with affection. But your breath hitches when a hand leaves your breast to once again slide up the inside of your thigh. 

“You’re so fucking sexy, you know that?” he says. “That’s why I need you tell me…”

You lean close to his ear and whisper. “Nope.”

Dean’s chuckle shakes his frame. His other hand cups your cheek, slipping into your hair. You hold him to you, and for the first time it’s skin to skin, with your breasts pressing against his chest. 

“All right…you sure I can’t convince you?” he asks. There’s a note of warning that you’re just a bit too slow to detect. 

His fingers swiftly bypass your panties, pushing them aside so he can tease the seam of your pussy.

You bite your lip and lean back enough to see his face, to see the mischievous edge of his smirk. You inhale sharply when two of his fingers slip in and probe in your wet heat, but don’t go further than your entrance.

“Dean,” you whine. “Please…”

“Tell me,” he insists, “what you said.” 

His lips graze your cheek, down the column of your neck. You feel the rasp of his stubble against your skin. Meanwhile, your pussy is pulsing with need, all but chasing his fingers that do no more than brush and tease. Your nails accidently bite into his shoulders in frustration.

He sucks in a pained breath. You gasp and apologize, soothing over his skin. 

Dean just laughs and noses along your throat. He knows exactly what you need, but he wants to win the game. 

At this point, you just want him.

So finally, you admit it. You confess into his ear the things you whispered in your mother tongue.  

“I said, you dumb, beautiful man,” you say, smiling with your cheek pressed against his. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

Dean grins into your neck. You really don’t realize it. But to him, your voice is rich as black velvet, and sexy as hell. Doesn’t matter what language you’re speaking.  

Two of his fingers sink deeply into your pussy. You whimper, squeezing gratefully around his hand. 

“Please, Dean…”

“I got you, baby. Just relax,” he says with a grin. 

He explores your inner channel and begins to discover what you respond to, what angles make you grip onto him tighter, make your voice keen higher, especially when his thumb circles over your clit. 

You cling to him for dear life, gripping his hair, uttering encouragements (not all of them in English), and finally praises when that hot coil within you snaps and releases. 

Dean holds you while you come over his hand. You’re squeezing the shit out of him, really, in every way possible. But when that dam breaks, all you can do is lean against him and try to catch your breath.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he chuckles. He rubs your back, pets your hair. 

“I’m…” you trail. You lean back and take his smug face in your hands, and you kiss him. You put into that gesture what your voice fails to confess. 

And when both of you run out of breath, Dean pulls back just enough to see your eyes.

“We’re not done, by any damn means,” he says. That coffee still has him wired. And at this point, his cock is throbbing with need. “But let’s head over to my room.”

“Yeah, I think I need to help you with this before you implode,” you tease him with a gentle hand along his rock-hard length. He utters a strained sound that makes you sympathetic. 

But before anything else, you caress his cheek fondly. Tonight matters to you, and you think it matters to him too. Dean flashes you a rare, boyish grin that has you smiling even harder. 

Damn it. You might just love this man. 

He helps you down from the counter, though his arms stay wrapped around you because of your jelly legs. His resolution is to pick you up over his shoulder.

“Let’s fly, baby!” With a swift spank of your ass, he carries you the rest of the way to his room. You squeal and try to stifle your giggles all the way there. 

One thing’s for sure. Sam is going to hate you both in the morning. 

AN: 😂 Well, that was fun! Please let me know what you thought.

**Just to preface, I am in fact a plus-sized Latina (Cuban, Puerto Rican and Dominican)! 🌶️🌶️

And I just want to say, I wrote a specific plus-sized body type here, but we're all different and equally beautiful in our shapes, skin tones, and otherwise outward trappings.

I like to think of us as a box of lovely assorted chocolates (not the cheap factory-made bullshit either. The chocolatier, handmade assortments that cost an arm and a leg, shipping not included).

Each delectable and unique, with something extra special inside. 😘

Keep Reading:

Yes, this has become a series! Next up is "Devour Me":

Summary: When you and Dean start to press each other’s buttons, both of your tempers ignite. To make up for it, you give him an impromptu salsa dancing lesson…one he didn’t exactly ask for.

▶️ Next Story: Devour Me (Part 1)

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[thedemonknownasbilly]

Someone to Me

Based on this idea

Hurt/Comfort

Ineffable Husbands x GN!Reader

Takes place during and after Failed Armageddon.

“You can do whatever you like to me, I’m no one, don’t you dare hurt them!” You had yelled to Satan, standing firm even though you were terrified, your angel and demon behind you holding onto Adam. You needed to stall, needed to give your demon time to pause time, to talk to Adam. Not many humans would notice the shift, but having been around your demon for long enough, you knew. He had done it. Time was paused and now it is unpaused.

You stepped back into Crowley’s arm, holding Aziraphale’s free hand as Adam stepped forward to confront his spiritual, biological father.

“What was that you had said,” Crowley asked hours later, the three of you home in his Mayfair flat. “When confronting and stalling Satan-”

“Which was incredibly dangerous!” Aziraphale cut the demon off for a chance to scold you.

“Yes, yes, incredibly dangerous, but you had said something rather peculiar.” Crowley continued, watching you closely.

“I’m afraid I’ve forgotten already,” you tried to brush it off, tried to avoid the lecture that was sure to come.

“Don’t lie, that’s Aziraphale’s job.” Crowley murmured, walking over to you like a predator to his prey. “You called yourself something, something I’m not particularly fond of, and neither is our angel.”

“I simply said the truth,” you whispered, breaking your gaze from his piercing yellow eyes. “I am just a human, therefore, no one.”

“No, you are not,” Crowley said firmly, his slender fingers gripping your chin to make you look into his eyes, and a gasp escaping you as you saw tears in his own. “Do you have any idea how painful it is to hear that, Pet? How much it kills me inside?”

“And me,” Aziraphale stepped behind you, strong arms wrapping around your waist, “darling, you are absolutely someone to us, don’t think for a moment that you aren’t.”

“I’m just human, I’ll only cause you pain.”

“Stop it,” Crowley demanded, “stop trying to predict us, stop trying to belittle yourself, you’re ours. No matter what you are, you’re ours and we love you.”

“More than anything, more than my bookshop.”

“More than Bentley.”

“So when we say you’re someone to us, it’s the truth, you are ours, and we will do everything we can to keep you.”

“We’ll tell you everyday, make sure you never see yourself so meagerly again.” Crowley whispered, leaning down so his forehead pressed to yours, and you couldn’t help yourself as you reached up to his cheeks and wiped away his tears. He surged forward to kiss you, his hand holding Aziraphale’s. You turned yourself around to give your angel the same treatment, heart aching as you saw red ichor instead of watery tears flowing down his cheeks, you’d really upset him for that to occur.

“I’m sorry my angel,” you whispered as you did your best to clean the red from his cheeks and kissed him.

“It’s okay, darling, as long as you know that you’re always someone to us.” He tried to reassure you.

“My angel and my star maker.” You mused, pulling them to sit on the chaise couch with you.

“And our dearest heart.” They said in unison, smiling as Crowley pressed his head to your neck, and Aziraphale laid his on your lap.

[bri-cheeses]

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 855 | This is actually a part 2 to this post that I happened to completely forget about until about thirty minutes ago lol | Hope you enjoy! |

-

Barty watched Evan go, grass being crushed under his feet as he walked away.

Then he whirled back to Regulus and Dorcas, desperate for answers.

“Tell me what just happened,” he demanded.

Dorcas rubbed a hand over her forehead and Regulus scoffed.

“If I had to take a guess, I’d say that these past few years of relentlessly pining for each other finally caught up to you.” Regulus delivered it like a fact, and Barty gaped at him.

“What?” He could feel his mouth hanging open like a dumbstruck goldfish.

Next to Regulus, Dorcas rolled her eyes. “That was pathetic, Crouch,” she said. “For both of you. Merlin knows how we’ve watched you two tiptoe around each other for years now, but I’m scared it’s about to get a hundred times worse.”

Regulus wrinkled his nose at the thought. Barty felt slightly faint. “What do you mean we’ve been tiptoeing around each other for years?”

There was a long-suffering sigh from Regulus. “You like Evan,” he stated plainly, “and Evan likes you. And neither of you will pull your head out of the sand long enough to actually notice that the other likes you back.”

“But I don’t like Evan?”

Dorcas wheezed in surprised laughter.

“What?” she gasped. “Did you just say that? Regulus, tell me he did not just say that.”

“He did just say that,” Regulus said grimly. “Now you see what I’ve been living with for all this time.”

“I am so sorry.”

“Wait, I’m sorry, can we go back? Why is me saying that I don’t like Evan so incredibly hilarious?” Barty crossed his arms in petulance.

“Because,” Dorcas said slowly, as if she were explaining something to a small child, “you’ve liked Evan for years.”

A rush of heat traveled to Barty’s face. “No, I haven’t!”

“Barty,” Regulus interrupted, “how would you describe Evan’s hair?”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it.”

Barty barely had to think about it, but he still frowned while speaking. “Well, it’s this really light blond color, and it’s more of a whitish tint than it is yellow. Except for when the sun lights it from behind, then it looks more like gold.”

He didn’t see the point of this.

Regulus shared an amused look with Dorcas. “Right. And what color is my hair?”

Barty frowned again, confused. “It’s black,” he said.

He looked on in confusion as Dorcas and Regulus burst out laughing.

“Barty, tell me, what’s Evan’s eye color?” Dorcas laughed.

“A really lovely brown, kind of like coffee with a dash of creamer in it.”

“And what’re my eyes like, pray tell?”

“Dark brown?”

It came out like more of a question than he wanted it to.

His friend's laughter had started to gain some attention, and Barty’s face grew warm at being the butt of some joke he didn’t know the punch line to.

“Barty, I want you to say the first word that comes to mind after I finish my next sentence, okay?” Regulus was actually smiling. It was at Barty’s expense, sure, but even then, it was rare enough occasion that it made Barty even more nervous. He nodded anyway and braced himself for Reg’s next words.

“Evan coming out of the bathroom without a shirt on.”

“Merlin,” Barty breathed, then clapped a hand to his mouth. Where had that come from?

Regulus and Dorcas both leveled a pointed stare at him, as if they were waiting for a realization to kick in.

When it did, Barty’s jaw dropped to the ground. He pointed an outraged finger between his two friends. “Why didn’t any of you tell me?!”

“Look,” Dorcas said as she raised her hands in defense, “it’s not our fault that you’re exponentially more dense than any of us expected.”

Regulus nodded his agreement. “We thought you knew.”

“Well, I did not know that, so. Thanks for that,” Barty glowered. Oh, this simple little fact has complicated everything for him.

“I’m done for, aren’t I?” he said miserably.

“Not really,” Dorcas mused.

Barty cut a sharp look towards her. “What do you mean?”

“Do you even remember how we got onto this topic in the first place? The whole “you liking Evan” thing, but also Evan liking you. For even longer than you’ve liked him, if I’m not mistaken.” Dorcas glanced towards Regulus for confirmation. Regulus nodded. He looked slightly pained and more than a little weary of Evan and Barty’s stupidity.

“Wait, really?” Barty questioned. “How do you know?”

“Because I’ve been subject to his constant staring at you with his white-gold hair and coffee eyes for way too long,” Reg muttered.

Barty dropped his head down to his hands, covering the blush that has made its way back to his cheeks. “Merlin, I’m so gone for him, aren’t I?”

“Yeah,” Dorcas said at the same time Regulus responded, “Definitely.”

Barty groaned into his hands as Regulus continued, “But if it's any consolation, he’s just as gone for you.”

Barty looked up. “Actually,” he contemplated, “that is a consolation, Reg, thank you.”

Regulus nodded in acknowledgment at the same time a grin started to spread across Barty’s features.

This could be fun.

[cupidisaliar]

Bound by infinity ♾️

Gojo x student reader

No warnings i guess. Let me know if there are any I should add. Second fic from a long ass hiatus of one post haha.

Sorcery training wrapped up, and you pack belongings and bid your peers farewell.

It was Panda's bright idea to have you and the rest of the first years run around the track, making you realize how out of shape you are.

It's hard work, you must admit—the whole sorcerer thing.

You navigate the familiar halls exhausted, heading to your dorm room, and unintentionally collide with your sensei, Gojo Satoru.

Unbeknownst to you, his technique, infinity, remains in place.

"Oops," you chuckle breathlessly. "Sorry! Bye, Sensei!" Your words accompany a slight bump, making him step slightly to the right. With an awkward smile, you turn to leave.

Gojo is in front of you again.

'Well, he can teleport…' you recall, 'and he's annoying.'

You look up, and although his blindfold remains around his eyes, he appears to be staring right at you. His eyes seem to pierce through the black cloth, through you. A slight chill crawls up your spine.

"…Are you okay, sensei?" you inquire.

Gojo doesn't move an inch, his gaze still on you. Neither of you says a word as the silence becomes deafening. A leaky faucet, a bird's chirp, and an unmoving Gojo suddenly become the focus of your attention.

After what feels like forever, a light smile graces his emotionless face.

"I'm just testing my infinity, that is all..." he finally speaks, a light smile still adorning his face.

You blink, "Okay, what about it?" You sigh, assuming he wants you to humour him; he always thinks he is funny.

"I was curious whether the effects of my infinity technique would be negated if a force bumped into me by accident." He says flatly.

"Doesn't it always?" you shrug.

The gears begin to turn in your head.

Doesn't it always…

"My infinity has always negated forces that approach it. Someone has never bumped into me... At least not that I am aware of." He crosses his arms.

You say nothing, and the words won't come out. They aren't even there.

'Did I just…'

After a moment, Gojo seems amused by something. "Well, let's keep it between us, and the rest of the school shall not know about this." He says with a slight chuckle.

Gojo smiles. "Don't worry about it, it doesn't affect me. And I won't say anything. But..." he pauses. "I am just curious... How did you get past my infinity?"

You shake your head. "I...I don’t-I don’t know…” You stammer.

"Well, I guess I'll keep my curiosity in check..." he chuckles again. "Have a good day, Y/N ."

He then proceeds to walk away.

'Should I also leave, or should I continue to the dorms? What should I do? Infinity? How does that work again?' Your thoughts dance and taunt you around as you watch your sensei leave.

You snap out of it when he's out of sight and run to your dorm. Exhausted from training and the interaction with Gojo.

'It all feels like a bad dream. Gojo Satoru is the strongest.' It was probably just a slip-up. His infinity wasn't up, and he assumed it was.

Changing into sleepwear, you are about to settle into bed when there is a knock at the door.

You open the door only to find Gojo sensei standing before you.

"I have a question for you," he says, walking in without waiting for an answer.

"Uhm..make yourself at home, I guess—"

Ignoring you, he walks to the center of your bedroom and looks at you.

"Why can you bypass my infinity technique? My curiosity got the best of me," he says, not blinking.

He's blinking? Oh..his blindfold is off. You notice it hanging around his neck. Blue eyes peer at you, and he seems eager for a reply.

"Sensei..." you start. I honestly have no idea."… I'm sorry," you say. It's all you can manage; a worried look plagues your face.

"It is alright; you don't need to worry." He smiles, almost in an odd manner. I just wanted to know how you managed to do it. But... if you don't know how you did it, then I am even more curious," he muses, walking over and leaning on your wall.

"Honestly, it was probably a one-time thing… maybe," you shrug, attempting to grasp a coherent sentence. "You're tired…maybe it wasn't even on—"

"Nah, It was definitely on," Gojo replies flatly. "But, I am still curious…" he says; he seems to peer at your soul without that blindfold.

"Do you want to try again?" You cut him off.

Gojo is silent, his eyes widened slightly. A small smile slowly comes across his face.

"Yes," he agrees, his eyes still glued to you.

You slowly reach your hand out, your palm outstretched.

Gojo looks back at your hand, then back at your eyes.

He steps away from the wall, still smiling. "So…you want to try this?" he questions, his tone serious.

"Yeah, is your infinity on?" You fail to hide your nervousness. Your voice shakes, as does your hand.

Gojo pauses for a moment to think about his answer. "It is, yes," he says without blinking as he watches you.

Your hand lingers in the air, shaking slightly as you wait for him to move. You take a deep breath, inhaling through your nose and exhaling through your mouth.

"You know what this technique is, right?" he asks, stepping closer to you. It means nothing can touch me, nothing can hurt me." He is so close to you.

"I know," you barely whisper.

Gojo lets us have an airy chuckle, breaking the tension in the room. His eyes seem so bright, brighter than ever.

You can't seem to see what's boiling underneath.

“Try it.” he challenges, his hand almost touching yours now, the other in his pocket.

You move your hand toward him, touching it effortlessly and going through his infinity.

Your hand is touching Gojo’s, and you keep your eyes glued to the back of your hands touching. You expected nothing to happen. It has always been an impenetrable technique, but for some reason, your hand is touching his during his infinity.

You hear Gojo gasp. “Incredible,” he whispers.

You swallow air, and your blood runs cold. Why do you have such a bad feeling about all of this?

Gojo looks straight at you. His eyes look curious as if he's studying you. “Can you pull your hand back?” he asks.

“Yeah..” You pull your hand back and put it back to your side.

“And nothing happened to you?” he asks, unblinking. “I feel fine, sensei.”

“I see..” he smiles, looking down at his hand. You wonder why he seems so giddy. Is he okay? You have to ask. “Gojo, are you–?”

He’s laughing. Laughter filled with joy and excitement.

“Sensei..” you try to talk to him.

Gojo is laughing joyously; you've never heard him laugh like this.

“Sensei, are you okay?”

“I've never seen anything like this... Y/n.. you can get past my infinity!” He beams. “You didn’t feel anything, did you?”

You shake your head. “N-no, I didn’t,” you mumble.

Gojo smiles. “Well, that settles it. It seems to me you have an immunity to infinity.”

He pauses for a moment, looking–no staring at you, like that would help him understand the reason behind all of this.

“I must say, I find you very interesting. I have never met anyone like you.” He comments, his unblinking eyes filled with fascination.

“What do you mean?” You question.

“Just as I said, it’s rare that I meet someone who can neutralize my technique. In all my years, I have never seen someone with that ability. It’s only been objects.”

You nod. You’re worried. You want to know what all this means. You look back up, and Gojo looks off to the side. You follow his gaze to a jewelry box in your room.

“Now then!” he clasps his hands together. “For now, this will remain our little secret..” You notice he speaks in a light-hearted tone now.

“..Until it is necessary to get more people to know.” He says, letting out a small chuckle.

“Why would they–” You start.

“Don’t worry,” Gojo says. You aren’t sure if he is reassuring you or himself. “It is simply because I know some people would definitely want their hands on that technique you have.

What a scary thought.

“But… we can cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, don't worry, my Y/N.

You almost miss it.

My Y/n?

You swallow… “Sensei, are you okay? I want to know because you are the strongest, but I can get past your technique.

“I am perfectly fine.” He replies sternly.

He notices your worried expression.

“I’m fine, Y/n. I know you are probably confused right now. This will all make sense in time.” He crosses his arms.

He walks towards you, towering over you.

“Now.. do not let any doubts creep into your mind,” he says, pulling his blindfold up. “You will be fine. Just leave everything to me.” You watch as he ties his hair up with it, and it obscures those piercing blue irises.

You nod. “Yeah,” you reply. Of course, you trust Gojo. You always have.

Always.

Gojo sensei smiles back, his expression filled with assurance. He knows you have doubts.

“Let me give you a piece of advice,” he says, dropping his hands. Now, he looks like how he usually does, hidden from the world.

“You seem very kind. In our world, sorcerers are not always the best people. But you…you have a kind heart. I can see that.”

“Do not let anyone change that. You hear me?” He adds, raising his voice slightly.

“I promise,” You reply.

“...Good…”

Gojo pats you on the shoulder. “I trust you. You can trust me?” He asks. You can’t tell whether it was a question or a statement. He sounds almost remorseful.

You feel a sadness brewing inside him, the calm before the storm. He’s troubled.

“Isn’t this so weird?” you blurt out; it's your attempt at lightening the mood.

Gojo smiles, seeming relieved.

“It is weird, isn’t it?” he replies in your light-hearted manner.

“It feels as though destiny crossed our paths. Maybe fate brought us together,” he says thoughtfully and slightly sad.

“Maybe it did.” You say.

He pats your back.

“Now, I have something to attend to. Come to me, and only me, if you need anything.” He says, walking to your door.

“Goodbye, Y/n.” He says, back still turned

He leaves, shutting the door.

He left his worry in the room with you; it’s suffocating. You feel like you can’t breathe.

That terrible feeling in your gut never went away.

You don’t think it ever will now