#NO PROOFREAD ENJOY!

[mingwrites]

Can I request how Ateez would sound in bed (i.e. moaner, grunted, whimper, silent, loud).

thanks for requesting nonnie!!! hope u enjoy <3

how ateez sound in bed

seonghwa ~ very vocal in bed. he mostly makes soft, breathless moans, his head thrown back in ecstasy as you ride his dick. his brain becomes too fogged up with the feeling of you to form words, so he relies heavily on those sounds to let you know that you're doing well, that he feels good, and that he loves you. he also tends to bite his lip a lot, producing hums rather than open-mouthed moans. "mmmmh, mmh, you feel so-ahh-so good..."

hongjoong ~ a focused man and attentive lover, hongjoong tends to be a little more quiet during sex as he's so focused on making you feel good. the best way to hear his adorable, hoarse whimpers is when you suck him off or give him a handjob. that's when he's able to lie back, close his eyes, and fill the room with the sounds of his pleasure. "yessss, that's good, baby... mmm...! just like that..."

yunho ~ lots of grunting when he fucks into you. he puts a lot of strength into his thrusts and likes to make that apparent, producing low, almost growl-like sounds every time his hips pound against yours, his dick filling you completely. also has a tendency to laugh during sex, smirking cockily, specifically when you let out one of your own sounds or tell him how good he makes you feel. "mm, mm... my baby feels good? hah... so cute..."

yeosang ~ yeosang is on the quieter side, as he can be a little shy, even with you. during sex, he makes plenty of pretty little whimpers and groans, just at a very soft volume. he grows louder the longer your pussy squeezes his dick, the more he comes undone. he's also way too shy to talk much, so he instead communicates with little, desperate noises and broken sentences. "mm, mm, ah... i love it... mmmh..."

san ~ he tries to stay mostly silent in terms of moaning, instead opting to just tell you directly what he's feeling. in other words, he's big on dirty talk. while you will catch occasional low hums, especially when he's close to orgasm, he mostly prefers to be teasing you for the sounds you make. "you're so tight... mmm... i can feel your pretty little pussy squeezing me. you're close, huh baby?"

mingi ~ mingi is unashamed of the type and amount of sound he makes, often using them as a substitute for words when he gets too worked up. he'll make quick, deep grunts when he fucks you, higher-pitched whimpers when you suck him off, and long, gruff moans when you fuck yourself on his dick. he loves the sound of your voice echoing in harmony with his. "mm, mmm, just like that, doll... ahh, yeah... take me down your throat..."

wooyoung ~ loud, loud, loud. in both the amount of moans and blabbering half-sentences you're able to get out of him, and in the volume of those sounds. wooyoung is shameless and unafraid to cue you (and your neighbors) in on exactly how he's feeling. on any given night, you'll hear him talking dirty, laughing, whimpering, moaning, and sometimes sobbing. "aaahhh, y/n, y/n, it's too much...! ah, ah, ah... mmm, so good..."

jongho ~ tries very hard to make as little noise as possible. he's rather shy and not always comfortable with that level of vulnerability, so he prefers to listen in on your sounds instead. also a master of dirty talk, he uses that skill to get the prettiest sounds out of you. of course, when he cums, he can't always hold back, and will let choked, high-pitched moans slip through. "mm, you feel so good... keep going, love... i'm gonna... ahh, aaahh...

[astraystayyh]

hyunjin with glasses and a tiny ponytail brainrot

fluff and kissing and Hyune is too pretty and suggestive in the end (so mdni)

also can you tell I'm obsessed with the imagery of hyunjin and lipstick stains????? this is a recurrent theme atp

you're sitting on the bathroom countertop, knees tightly hugged to your chest as hyunjin brushes his teeth next to you. it's a bit silly, you admit, to watch in silence while he completes the most mundane tasks. but every second spent not looking at him feels like a wasted one to you.

"put this on for me?" he suddenly asks, his golden necklace dangling between his fingers, a sweet smile brightening his face. you nod, as hyunjin hands you the dainty chain and turns his back to you.

you swiftly clasp the necklace in place, before letting your fingers trail across the nape of his neck. "your hair's gotten longer," you remark, as you gently brush your hand through it.

"mm. do you like it?" he asks. and by the grin that can be heard in his voice, he already knows the answer to this.

"i do. very pretty," you whisper, as you gather a small section of his hair and twist it into a tiny ponytail. hyunjin turns around once you're done, and you pull him closer by the hem of his black cashmere shirt.

he's standing between your legs, strong, toned arms are on either side of your body as you tuck away some strands of his bangs, framing his face with them.

his eyes soften once they finally meet yours and you grin sheepishly at the impromptu hair updo, "you should put your hair up more often."

hyunjin tilts his head to the side, bringing his face closer to yours in the process. and you're suddenly blushing, profusely. you can't help it, not when he looks this pretty, his leg nudging your thigh every now and then. "it seems like you love my hair too much," he pouts, gently taking off your glasses and placing them on the bridge of his nose.

"does these fit me too?" he questions, his thumb rubbing featherlight circles on your bare knee. you can't speak, words elusive as your eyes run wild over his face.

you don't know exactly how you ended up this way- caged between his arms and dazed by how perfect he looks. you didn't even know that a tiny ponytail and a pair of glasses would affect you this much. but he's dizzying, in the most delicious way, and you suddenly don't want him to go out anymore.

"what? cat got your tongue," he smirks, as he grazes your cheek gently. the contrast between his mocking words and gentle touch puts your body on overdrive. it feels like a flame is blazing across your skin and yet you're floating in cold water.

"excuse me for being attracted to my boyfriend," you finally respond, tucking strands of his bangs behind his ear. "you can't really blame me, can you?" you chastise, your lips grazing the corner of his mouth. "not when you look like this."

"like what?" he giggles, before pressing his rosy lips onto yours.

"too pretty," you whisper against his mouth and he smiles onto the kiss, his hands finding your waist and holding it gently.

"i know how to make you prettier though," you grin secretly and he cocks an eyebrow at you in response. "close your eyes, for me. please, hyune?"

hyunjin knows he might run late if he doesn't leave in a few minutes, but he can never say no to you. so he closes his eyes, letting darkness surround him as he hears you rummage through a nearby drawer.

after a few, quiet seconds, you make hyunjin stand between your legs once again. your warm hands cradle his face, and then you press the softest kiss onto his lips. then his cheeks. his forehead. and the corner of his mouth. you kiss the tip of his nose and he goes to remove his glasses, but you stop him. "leave them on."

hyunjin's eyes are still closed, as your hands trail down his chest, before curling around his neck. that's where you place your next kiss, right where his pulse is wildly beating. you then move to the sensitive skin under his ear, and you can feel the goosebumps running across his body. "seems like I'm not the only one affected here."

"I never claimed not to be affected by you," he shrugs, and the sincerity of his statement makes the butterflies in your stomach surge ten times fold.

"open your eyes," you finally say, moving hyunjin to the mirror next to you, quiet giggles escaping your lips. there, he finds your red lipstick imprints all over his face, down the curve of his neck. soft kisses scorched into his skin, sealed in there forever.

"see, this is the prettiest you've ever been, baby."

hyunjin shakes his head, before standing in front of you again. there is a fond smile on his face as he runs his thumb across your red lips, where your lipstick is surely smudged by now. "you know i need to go out, right?"

"this should send off anyone who'll try to talk to you."

"as if I'll ever look at anyone else but you."

"you can't keep saying things like this and expect me not to pass out."

"then what should i do?" hyunjin smirks down at you, as you wrap your legs around his waist.

"you should stay home and ruin my lipstick even more."

"will the glasses stay on?" hyunjin muses, as he finally picks you up, his hands holding your thighs securely. you won.

"they will."

"and the ponytail too?"

"mm.." you run your fingers through his hair, tugging at it gently. "it will."

"i should've never asked you to help with my necklace," hyunjin chuckles as he leads you to your bedroom.

"why, do you regret this?" you question playfully and he shakes his head, lowering you onto the bed gently.

"no. not even a little bit."

[zephyrchama]

I wonder if humans and demons in Obey Me! might have different taste receptors and experience taste slightly differently. Not for all things, but for really random stuff, like how some people irl enjoy cilantro and others think it tastes like soap.

Lucifer trying to pridefully power through the dinner MC made for him and failing because he's already gone through five drinks trying to mask its taste, and MC is getting suspicious.

"What is this incredibly sour vegetable? I've never tasted anything so... acrid."

"You mean the sweet potato? Are you saying this sweet potato is what's making your lips pucker?"

"There's absolutely nothing sweet about this potato."

[luxeslore]

CAT NAP | SIMON RILEY

(✉️ᝰ.ᐟ♥︎) 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯𝐸𝒟 — We need more hybrid!reader !!! Wether it be kitty or puppy is up to you, but hybrid!reader x 141 or just x who ever you choose [AO3 LINK]

WORD COUNT… 2.1k WARNINGS… 18+ CONTENT, MDNI. hybrid + kitty!reader, petnames [kitty, kitten, pet], daddy-dom/owner!simon, scent kink, mentions of prior neglect, mentions of murder, fingering [r. receiving], use of kittycunt, breeding kink.

You’re curled up in bed. Simon would be lying if he said he was surprised. He scoffs over your slumbering form, eyes trailing down to your soft tummy and cute undies that have been exposed due to your tossing and turning. Curling and uncurling yourself into the sheets that smell just like him— he’ll never understand that this bed is your own personal heaven. And wearing one of his shirts while you take your naps makes it even more divine. 

“Sleepy kitty,” Simon mutters softly, words coming out as affectionately as they possibly can. He brings a heavy hand to rub the top of your head, right between your fluffy ears, and he revels in the startled but satisfied purr that vibrates your frame. 

It seems the gentle touch has triggered something in you as you roll over, throwing your arms over your head and twisting your face up. Your body tenses for a moment. Simon’s voice finally falls on your ears now that you’re just barely coherent; “Big stretch— tha’s my good, little pet!”

Each syllable is elongated and sugar coated, making a warm feeling bloom in your chest before Simon even dives into the sheets with you. You sniff a few times. Fresh and clean body wash, even some aftershave— he’s showered. At the realization, your nose scrunches. You enjoy his natural scent. The woody musk, a hint of smoke and sometimes whisky if he needs a stiff drink after work. It’s spicy and comforting. You missed out on getting whiff when he first got home. You snooze, you lose, you pout. Already pouting and you haven’t even opened your eyes fully. 

“Don’t make that face,” the words are grumbled; he knows what your issue is. Still, he’s caging you in whilst he speaks. Tattooed arms locking around your waist in a tight hold while his stubble scrubs against your cheek. You look up at him in the middle of a yawn, melting into him as you wrap your arms around his neck. Not before you rub your eyes, though. 

“Missed you, daddy,” you whisper, slurred speech and all, forgetting why you were upset a solid minute ago. 

“Wasn’t gone for that long, was I?” 

He’s teasing as always. Honeyed, brown irises taking in your sweet features as a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. You murmur something unintelligible and equally bratty in response, clinging to him even tighter. You could fall asleep again if you really wanted to… if it wasn’t for that pesky feeling that settles in your tummy. The tingling that makes it’s way between your thighs and causes them to flex around Simon’s waist. You mewl softly— sleepily— as Simon rolls over with you in tow. You’re laying on his chest before you know it, face buried in his neck and taking in a deep breath whilst you nose at the skin there in true feline nature. Bumping your forehead into his jawbone in the process. 

Simon is rather predictable. The way he drags his hands down your sides is expected; squeezing your waist, rubbing your hips, and then grabbing the swell of your rump. With a minuscule amount of his strength, he spreads your cheeks. Those calloused fingers slip between the seam in seconds to rub your kittycunt through your panties, eager to ruin the soft cotton. Your reward for being so good and patient while he was gone. Even if you weren’t conscious. 

“Daddy.” It’s breathy and pathetic. 

“Hm?” Simon hums, as if he isn’t doing anything nefarious. 

You haven’t lived with him for long. You moved from shelter to shelter, stayed with people that certainly weren’t cut out to take care of a hybrid in between. Which ultimately lead to Simon finding you in a safe house, tucked away by some sketchy crime boss who liked to throw away his toys once he got bored of them. 

You’re not sure what ever happened to him, but you’ve got a few scars to show for that time in your life— Simon doesn’t want to falter your healing process and taint your innocence any further by telling you he painted the wall with the poor bastard's brains once the task force finally caught up to his organization. Not like you would understand, anyway. Too far gone and caught up in being a pampered, little kitten now. With bows on your ears and one to match on your tail, a pretty collar with a bell to wear when you feel up to it. You have everything you’ve ever wanted and more. 

Spoiled rotten. Simon thinks to himself, watching your lashes fan over the tops of your supple cheeks. The tips of his fingers, index and middle, find your clit through your underwear, pressing hard enough and moving in little circles to draw a syrupy mewl from you. He feels that little patch of mess growing and growing until the material is stuck to your cunt, transparent and sticky when he bunches it up and tugs upwards, forcing the cotton to strain against your folds and make you whimper. You’re left writhing on his chest in seconds. Moaning and panting “daddy,” like you’ll die if he doesn’t give in and yank the lacy trim to the side. 

Which he does. Doesn’t hesitate to stuff you full either, after all that teasing. Slips his thick middle finger right in and feels your thighs lock up on him, feels your velvet lined walls suck him right in. He’s got you trained to take all of him at this point. You pick your head up, tail swishing behind you wildly. 

“Feelin’ good, kitty?” 

“So good, daddy,” you whisper back, just over his lips before you two join for a sloppy kiss. Tongues rubbing together in a near disgusting dance. You taste the nicotine on him; you feel his stubble rub against your face. A combination that makes it impossible for your pussy not to squeeze around the digit that’s pressing up on the gooey spot inside of you— you’re trying to force him out before he can get another one in, but Simon’s certainly not a beginner. He knows how to coax your pretty cunt into letting him in. 

Your mouth falls open, singing and choking out sounds, and he grins against your scalding cheek. Pressing kisses there when he finds the time. His freehand grips your tail, and that might be the nail in the coffin for you. His fingers fill you up to his knuckles, pressing and flexing until you both can hear how messy you are between your thighs, spreading the glossy arousal all over the plump cheeks of your ass. He tugs at the squirming mess of fluff in his fist—your tail— and your cunt squeezes itself around his fingers so tight he can’t move them anymore. Record timing. 

Simon kisses you, again and again. Slow and sensual to fast and rough. Anything you need to ride out the aftershocks of your release, with your poor cunt still flexing and refusing to let go of his digits until he reluctantly has to pull them out. Bringing the messy hand up to his mouth. You watch him lick his fingers clean. His fat tongue peaks out, slipping ‘n sliding through his digits while you stare at him with dazed, half lidded eyes. Before it’s your turn and he decides to share your sweetness. He presses down on your tongue, forcing your mouth to open as wide as it can. Drool slips past your lips and tongue, and he has the revelation that he’s turned you into a proper sex kitten. His fingers fall out of your mouth with a soft and wet pop. 

“Relax, kitty.” He grumbles once you begin making hasty movements. It’s more of a demand than anything else. His attempts to coax you are lazy but earnest, petting the back of your head with one hand while the other caresses your lower back. Right above your now drooping tail. 

“Wan’ more,” you huff out, planting your hands flat on Simon’s chest as you gather enough strength to sit up. Your poor cunt is still sore from his rough digits, creamy and messy with your release. Painfully empty. You need him. 

It’s apparent in every little move you make. Each rut of your hips over his hard cock. You whine, looking down and seeing the mess you’re making on your daddy’s joggers. Simon’s no better. Deep groans rumbling in his giant chest. The gray material grows darker and albeit stickier with your arousal. Simon doesn’t have the heart to deny you— not when you’re gagging for it like this. 

He can see your pretty, starry eyes welling with hot tears, making your lashes heavy. Your cheeks are puffy with sleep but plump with pleasure, lips pouty and slick with a mix of your saliva and his. Before he knows it, while he’s under whatever trance you managed to cast over him, he’s helping you get his fat cock out of his sweats. His hands dwarf your own, scarred lips shushing your small sounds in the process with a curse or two. 

“Greedy fuckin’ thing.” 

It’s his fault for spoiling you so much, but that’s a conversation for later. 

His dick immediately smacks against his lower abdomen. Thick and heavy. Beads of his precum create such a mess on his hoodie and you nearly giggle at the sight. The feeling of him grabbing your hips stops you, though. He drags you over his cock, and you have no choice but to squeal when his shaft rubs right up on your sensitive clit, before the fat head of his cock catches your drooly entrance. You suck a breath in through your teeth. The last thing you do before Simon plants his feet on the bed and stuffs you full of every inch in one go, growling loud ‘n proud and gripping your skin hard enough to make you sniffle. 

Somehow, in the middle of everything, the hem of the shirt you’re wearing becomes tucked between your teeth. And his becomes balled up in your fists. Simon can’t recall ever seeing you like this. All riled up with your ears flat on your head and small, feisty growls escaping you. The wind is knocked out of him each time you bounce, pulling yourself upwards and then falling right back down on his fat cock. 

He doesn’t have it in him to stop you, once again. When you’re milking him like this it’s hard for him to focus on anything besides how much he loves you and your precious cunt. His hand wavers over your tummy, rubbing your smooth skin as he tries to string words together through ragged breaths. Your cunt is unrelenting. Pulsing and squeezing and all around ruining him. Fuckin’ hell— you’re testing his stamina riding him like this.

“Trying to fuck the cum out of me like this, kitten,” he’s throwing his head back, desperately trying to meet your hips to the best of his fucked out abilities, “is tha’ what you want?” 

Your response is hummed, meeting his eyes with a glossed over look. Your own drool is soaking the fabric through. Maybe you really are just a dumb kitty, Simon thinks— “Words, pet.” He reminds you with the last bit of composure he has himself, “want daddy to give you some kitties, is that it?” 

“Yes!” You squeak out, “Please, daddy! Breed me.” 

Simon blacks out after that. It’s a mess of desperate thrusts and you falling forward, flopping onto his chest yet again due to how hard your orgasm rocks into you. He’s gripping your thighs— holding you nice and open, allowing him to fuck up into you and knock your cute squeals right out of your throat. You’re creaming everywhere, covering his cock in a milky white that makes him groan when he feels how much messier your cunt has gotten. The sloppy sounds echo through the room until he stills. Sinking his cock into you as far as it can go, fat head surpassing that spot that draws out your messiest releases and pressing up against your cervix. 

His cum is hot and thick. Both of you shudder, feeling it fill you up to the brim and leak out of your poor, fluttering kittycunt while Simon holds onto you for dear life. He huffs and puffs against one of your ears, unbothered by the way the fluff tickles his nose. There’s a soft noise coming from you. Airy sighs and— no, it can’t be— little snores. Your face is smushed up on Simon’s shoulder. Surely drooling all over his hoodie. You ear twitches under his nose. The way they always do when you’re knocked out. 

“Un-fuckin’-believable.” 

[pupkashi]

volvi a nacer

gojo feels life start anew now that you’re by his side

a/n: hi hi friends ! this is heavily inspired by this song !! i think it’s so sweet and yeah <3 (unrelated but my bf sent me it i was geeking out for a week ok) ALSO GIGI (@4sat0ruu) I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS SO MUCH MY FELLOW LATINA 🙏🙏🙏; slightly latinx coded reader bc i can !

wordcount - 2,737

masterlist

translations: mi amor // my love, hermoso(a) // beautiful, mi corazon // my heart, cariño // sweetheart

there was time in gojo satoru’s life that he felt his life had essentially ended. he felt isolated, like no one would ever fill the void he felt in his chest.

he didn’t think he had anyone to lean on when he needed it, opting for a façade of cockiness and jokes when anyone asked if he was alright.

you saw through it all. with a concerned frown on your face as you wrapped your arms around him, holding him as tightly as you could and squeezing him.

“i don’t need your hugs, y/n,” he scoffed, hoping you didn’t hear the wobble in his voice, “I’m the strongest, i can take on anything by myself.”

“I’m sure you can, but you don’t have to,” you whispered, not letting go for a second. you heard the tremble in his breath, the hitch in his throat when he heard your next words, “I’m right here, you’ll be okay.”

for a split second satoru saw the world for all its warmth and love rather than its faults and challenges. he felt the love and support he’d only ever imagined, the suns warm rays hitting his skin as you held him tightly.

it faded as you pulled away, and he could hear nobara and yuji yelling in the distance, toge and yuta laughing at something.

“I’ll be here if you need me, okay?” you reassure him, your hand lingers on his shoulder for a bit before you walk away.

you’re only two steps away when you feel satoru gently grab your wrist, letting go not even a second after he did. when you turn to face him he looks shocked, as if he didn’t have control of his own body for a second.

“uh- can-” he stumbles over his words, not knowing exactly what to say and not exactly having the courage to say whatever they were.

“yeah, i can,” you smile softly, taking his hand in yours, “how about we get some food, when’s the last time you had actual food and not take out or sweets?” you question.

satoru rolls his eyes, scoffing before counting the days on his fingers, “it hasn’t been that long,” he mumbles, smiling a bit when you shake your head and laugh at him.

it’s been three years since then, somewhere along the way the line of caring friend and something more had been crossed, pinkies interlinking during movie night, a stolen kiss in a maintenance closet when hiding from an upset yaga.

he’s not exactly sure what’s making him reminisce on that day. maybe he’s recalling the way the sunshine felt on his skin, the way it does now as it pours in through the blinds, landing on his bare chest.

“you didn’t snore this time” you mumble, voice a bit hoarse as you wake up.

satoru grins, “I told you I’d stop,” you can’t help but half laugh, cuddling up to him more, “I’d do anything you ask of me sweets.”

“it’s 9 in the morning and you’re already professing your undying love?” you tease, just barely opening your eyes to look at your lover, who’s already staring right back at you, soft smile adorning his beautiful face.

“would do it all hours of the day if you’d let me,” he replies, not missing a beat. you can only chuckle softly, letting your head rest on his chest. your hair tickles him a bit but he ignores it, focusing on the way your index fingers draws random patterns on his abdomen.

satoru lets his mind wander, he thinks how lucky he is.

how lucky he was to be given a second chance at life, to be able to come back from a place so dark, to now be able to quite literally be bathed in sunlight and tender touches.

“where’d you go?” you whisper, adjusting yourself on your side and letting your arm prop you up. satoru is reeled back in, snowy lashes kissing his cheeks gently as he lays on his side to face you.

“thinking ‘bout how lucky i am,” he mumbles, staring at you for a second before a soft smile overtakes his lips, “I love you.” the words never fail to make you smile, you never miss a beat to respond, “i love you more, angel boy.”

“there isn’t anything i wouldn’t do for you, you know that right?” he’s focusing on the fuzz of the blanket rather than your eyes, looking up only when you hum in response.

“what if you have to fight off the most talented swordsman in the world for me?” you tease, he’s smiling at you as he sits up.

“then I’ll get a sword and do what i have to do to not lose you,” he answers like it’s the most simple thing in the world, “I’ve fought off worse haven’t i?” his cockiness makes you roll your eyes and chuckle, sitting up and kissing his cheek before stretching and finally getting out of bed.

“i guess so, you’re too strong for any of my hypotheticals,” you mumble, the taller man following you into the restroom, brushing your teeth together before heading into the living room.

“what do you want for breakfast?” satoru asks, his hands are already reaching for the ingredients for an omelette, recalling how you’d been craving one since last night but fell asleep as soon as you’d gotten home.

“what’s on the menu today, chef gojo?” you smile, moving from the couch to the kitchen bar, watching as he took out four eggs and various veggies and meats.

“how ‘bout that omelette you were dreaming of yesterday, sweetheart?” he’s grinning as he cracked an egg open with one hand over the bowl, a trick you’d taught him that took him the course of two cartons of eggs.

“you’re too perfect mi amor,” the words make his ears turn bright red, face flushed as he continues his fluid movements in the kitchen.

three years ago had someone told you the satoru gojo could make omelettes and crack eggs with one hand you would’ve laughed in their face, betting your life savings and then some against the snowy haired sorcerer.

yet here you are; three years, lots of broken eggs, burnt food and nights in the restroom later- you watch the love of your life make you an omelette.

the two of you eat breakfast over small talk, telling him of your plans for the day.

“I’ve gotta run some errands today, i hope traffic isn’t too bad” you trail off, mentally checking all the things you had to do.

“i can drive if you want,” he shrugs, chugging down the last bit of orange juice in his cup before grabbing your plate and placing them in the sink. “i don’t have anything else going on.”

you smile at your lover, “you don’t have to drive me around everywhere, you know that right?” satoru knew your distaste for being behind the wheel, he only saw it as an opportunity to pamper you and treat you like the royalty you were.

“i know, but i love driving you everywhere,” he grins, walking next to where you were seated and bending over to kiss your temple, “I’ll be your loyal chauffeur for as long as you’ll have me, hermosa.” the word is foreign on his tongue, it slips past his lips naturally, just the way you’d been teaching him common phrases.

“hermosa? who’d you learn that one from?” fighting the smile off your face was a predestined loss, barely hiding how over the moon you were at the new pet name. your words are teasing as you stand from the kitchen bar, stopping right in front of your lover, looking up at him.

“duolingo was hitting on me, actually,” satoru replies, a dimpled smile on his face when your arms snake around his neck, pulling him downwards so his lips met yours.

“can duo fight?” you laugh between kisses, pressing a softer kiss to the tip of his nose before detaching yourself from him.

satoru is ready before you, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching- no admiring, your every move as you get ready. his mind is filled with a whirlwind of compliments he can’t seem to get out, overcome with an overwhelming sense of love for you.

you’re an aura of warmth, kindness and love, and angel sent for him. a caring soul, who nurtured him back to health; through late night calls that ended with you in his apartment or vice versa, gentle reminders and tight hugs helping him through his toughest nights. through forced outings to fairs and arcades, despite his protests that he has been doing things other than working with his students and going on missions (he hadn’t).

it had taken time, but satoru had healed.

your love had healed him.

“oh i can’t do movie night Friday” you frowned, watching as the second and first years trained.

“oh? why’s that” satoru was caught off guard, you’d never been one to cancel on him.

“i- uh- I’ve got a date, actually” you chuckle, staring at your finger nails before looking at the man next to you.

“a date?” he repeated, heart sinking and stomach falling as you nodded with a smile.

“nanami set me up with them, didn’t know he actually had friends besides us,” you smiled, trying your best to ease the palpable tension.

you’d gotten up and left shortly after that, some lame excuse he can’t remember now. he did remember angrily walking into nanami’s office, accusing him of hating satoru and wanting to see him suffer.

“have you thought of- i don’t know, maybe telling y/n how you feel?” kento sighs, trying his best to focus on the report he was filling out before satoru had barged in.

satoru hadn’t thought of that, but he took his friends advice and marched up to you three hours later, confessing his feelings upfront.

“don’t go on that date, they don’t deserve you,” he began, immediately taking you back, “and maybe i don’t either but just give me one chance and i swear you won’t regret it.”

“what’s up with you today? maybe you shouldn’t drive” your words pull him out of his memory, blinking once, then twice before fully coming back to his senses.

“do you remember when you told me you had that date?” he asks, watching as you furrows your brows, the corners of your lips turning upwards as you recall the memory.

“oh yeah! then you confessed like an hour later” satoru nods, blushing a bit. “what about it?” you ask, moving to sit next to him, taking his larger hand in yours, tracing soothing circles into his skin with your thumb.

“i didn’t even know i liked you then,” he admits, “i just felt this terrible feeling in my stomach and yelled at nanami for wanting to ruin my life.” the revelation makes you smile a bit, “he told me to tell you that i liked you and only then did it dawn upon me that i had romantic feelings for you.” satoru laughs at himself now, looking at you with sparkling blue eyes.

“well, you were- and still are a bit of a dummy” you mumble, pulling his arm so satoru can lean against you, letting you rest your head atop his. “my silly angel boy.”

angel boy.

the first time he heard you say that he quite literally stopped in his tracks, smiling from ear to ear before picking you up and spinning you around. ‘say it again!’ he kept asking, blushing just as hard every time the pet name left your mouth.

satoru loves grocery shopping with you, checking off things as you put them in the cart. he thinks you look angelic against the backdrop of produce, heart fluttering as you look for the best bunch of cilantro.

he could do this for the rest of his life, he thinks to himself. the realization makes him bump against the display, thankful nothing fell over.

satoru gojo wants to marry you.

he wants nothing more in his life than to be with you for as long as he could. he wants to spend his mornings and nights besides you, he wants to make you breakfast and help you cook dinner, he wants to wash the dishes because you hate washing them, he wants to wake up to Cumbia and bachata on Sunday mornings as you clean, joining you and singing in broken Spanish as you serenade him with a broom.

it’s not as romantic as he’d once imagined, he thought the realization would come to him as the wind blew through your hair, or the golden rays of the sun kissed your cheeks.

instead he’s watching you pick out a two pack of steak, looking at him with a wide smile, “the prices dropped!” you grin, giddy as you happily put the meat into the cart, practically skipping down the line of raw meats.

he can hear his heartbeat in his ears as he wonder what to do next, mindlessly following you around the grocery store with the cart, every aisle affirming the fact that you’re the only one for him, especially as you tell him to get one sweet treat for the week as you go and get the milk.

he’s staring lovingly at you as you wait in line at the register, watching with interest as your eyes light up, “cariño can you get the eggs? i completely forgot,” he nods immediately, placing a chaste kiss to your cheek before turning on his heel and heading towards the eggs.

satoru lets the thought of marriage ruminate in his mind, recalling the times you’d talked about marriage, agreeing that you’d want to marry him. what if you’d changed your mind since then?

later that week as satoru is passing you the salt, he asks you the question that’s been eating at his mind. “do you still wanna get married?”

you chalk it up to his usual insecurities, turning around and kissing the tip of his nose and both his dimples. “‘course i do, angel boy” you reply, not missing a beat, “why? everything okay?”

satoru nods, eyes fluttering shut when your lips are pressing against his. “everything’s perfect,” he mumbles against you, smiling and chasing your lips for one more kiss before he passes you the butter.

one month later satoru is under the shade the cherry blossom trees give him, with you staring down at him, mouth still agape from seeing him get down on one knee.

“mi corazon, I’ve loved you more than i thought possible, you’ve breathed life into me when i thought there was no reason to keep living, you bring out the best in me everyday,” he begins, hands shaking slightly as you stare back at him, tears welling in your eyes.

“i want to be by your side for the rest of my life, i want to find you in every crowd, save you a seat next to mine and end my days with you in my arms,” satoru tried to ignore the thumping of his heart in his ears, “i want to be the only one lucky enough to be loved by you, will you marry me?”

you’re nodding quickly, mouth still covered before you’re throwing your arms around the snowy haired man- your now fiancé. “of course, yes!” you laugh, sniffling and wiping the tears that had fallen as you squeeze him tightly. “i love you cariño, i love you so so much” you grin, pressing your lips harshly against his, not caring when your teeth bump against his as you both smile, the spring wind causing pink petals to fall around the two of you.

there was a time in gojo’s life when he thought his life was over. he looks back and smiles, how was he supposed to know the best part of his life was only starting?

the void he once felt in his chest was now overflowing with the love and patience you poured into him; sickeningly sweet pet names and tender touches to ease his mind.

satoru can’t help but smile when he wakes up next to you everyday, grateful beyond belief he decided to be vulnerable that day in the courtyard.

“already staring at me lovingly?” you teased, making satoru grin, dimples on his cheeks as he hummed.

“something like that.”

[lightseoul]

you're losing me

synopsis. bakugou proposes to you. you give him an unexpected response.

cw. gn!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged up (28 yrs old), some cussing

word count. 2.5k words

“Where is everybody?”

You ask as you look around the barren restaurant, which, on most days, is jampacked with high-profile customers. How Bakugou was able to get you both a table is beyond you.

“Don’t mind ‘em,” he says before dipping down to finish the rest of his soup. “They’re just a bunch of extras anyway.”

You merely hum in response.

A moment passes with the both of you finishing your appetizers when a question dawns on you.

“By the way,” you start, “what’s the occasion, Kats?”

At that, he frowns. “What, you’re saying I can’t treat my partner whenever I feel like it?”

You snort. “I don’t mean it like that. It’s just that we don’t usually opt for extremely overpriced restaurants.”

You gesture to your evening gown and his suit. “We don’t usually dress up either.”

“Yeah, well. Just go with it, okay?”

You stare at him for a beat before deciding to let it go.

“Okay.”

You’re down to the last bite of your dessert when Bakugou clears his throat. You look up, only to be met with the familiar expression of nervousness decorating his features.

It’s how he looked at you back when he first asked you out three years ago.

“You alright?” you ask.

He nods, “Peachy. Just need to tell you something.”

Almost instantaneously, your heart picks up its pace. You brace yourself for bad news.

“What is it?”

At your query, Bakugou suddenly stands up and circles your table, stopping right in front of you.

And before you could even comprehend what’s happening, he’s already on one knee, holding a small velvet box.

“Y/N.”

At the mention of your name, your heart doubles up its pace.

He continues, but your head is pulsing and your ears throbbing so loudly that you can barely make out the speech he’s currently giving you. You feel lightheaded, as well as the tears welling up in your eyes, clouding your vision.

He sounds uncharacteristically shy when he finally says, “Will you marry me?”

That’s the last thing you hear before you black out.

You’re met with a blinding white light when you come to.

You strain to sit up in order to look around, the movement causing Bakugou, who is on a stool beside your bed, to stir awake.

“Hey,” he says gently. “Take it easy.”

Robbed of all words, you nod, taking heed and slowly lifting yourself up into a seated position.

“Where am I?” you ask.

“The nearest hospital from the restaurant,” he explains. “You fainted.”

“Seriously?”

He nods, face stern. “Thankfully I was able to catch you before your head could hit the ground. We just need to run a few more tests before you get cleared for discharge.”

And with that, the elephant in the room remains as evident as ever.

“Look, Kats,” you start, “about earlier—”

“Let’s not talk about it right now,” he cuts you off. “Come on, let’s get you ready for discharge.”

You barely catch him before he goes to work the next day.

Bakugou’s not a morning person—you found out about that a week into dating him when you noticed how curt his messages were in the mornings—yet he’s now up at 6:24 AM, darting in and out of the rooms in your shared apartment, getting ready for the day.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s rushing to leave.

“You’re awake,” you say lamely as you enter the living room.

He grunts in response, attention directed to the duffel bag he always brings to the office on patrol days.

You want to ask him why he’s up this early, but ultimately decide against it. Instead, you say: “Did you pack your lunch already?”

“Yeah,” he gestures to his bag, “It’s in here.”

“Okay.”

You stand awkwardly by the door as you watch him zip his bag and adjust his civilian clothes that would be swapped in for his winter costume later.

He then walks up to you and presses a kiss on your forehead—so tentatively it makes you ache.

Since when did he get so hesitant with you?

“I’ll go then,” he announces.

And before you know it, the front door shuts, his perfume leaving a nostalgic fragrance in its trail.

Only then do you realize that I love you’s were not exchanged.

The days after are unremarkably the same.

He’s been getting up extra early so that by the time you wake up, he’s already on his way to the agency.

On top of that, he’s starting to work overtime now, too.

Lately, he’s been arriving home as late as almost midnight.

You try to wait up for him—you really do—but with your own work to get to the following mornings, you just couldn’t sustain that arrangement.

And so you rarely see him.

But to your relief, despite everything that’s gone wrong with Bakugou since the night he proposed, you still fall on the same bed at the end of the day.

Albeit his back is turned against you. Still, you’re grateful. There’s a certain comfort that blankets you whenever you’re near Bakugou, and that hasn’t changed one bit.

Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, you mirror him, your back now facing his.

Which is why you don’t notice it until you hear a gasp.

Propping yourself up on your elbow, you look at Bakugou, who’s now sitting upright, chest heaving.

Quickly, you rouse yourself, facing him. “What’s wrong?”

He inhales deeply as his eyes dart towards you, beads of sweat now decorating his forehead.

“Nightmare,” he croaks.

At that, you grab his ice-cold hands, squeezing them in yours. “Do you want to talk about it?”

A beat passes before he reluctantly shakes his head. “It’s just the usual.”

The usual. Being held hostage by that monster, getting kidnapped, being responsible for All Might’s—

“It doesn’t matter if it’s new or not,” you retort, squeezing his hands again in an attempt to anchor him to reality. “I’m here to listen, alright?”

Bakugou hesitates for a second before nodding, a pained expression written across his face.

He starts to lean in closer, probably to drop his head at the crook of your neck like he usually does when plagued with nightmares, before hesitating and leaning back.

“Okay.”

The next morning, you wake up not only to an empty bed, but an empty house.

Still half asleep, you trudge your way toward the kitchen, where a bento box is sitting on the island. On top of it is a sticky note that reads:

Going out w the guys after shift. Don’t wait up.

Your heart sinks at the thought of not being able to see Bakugou for the day.

Still, maybe he needs this night out.

You wouldn’t want to spend time with the person who rejected you either.

With a heavy heart, you get ready for the day yourself.

Work is the least of your concerns this morning, but you figure you have to go. You could use some distraction to take your mind off your crumbling relationship.

You’re in your bed reading that non-fiction you’ve been putting off for a while now when your phone rings.

You reach for your phone, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of Kirishima’s caller ID.

Huh.

You press the green button after a few seconds of letting it ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N!” a cheery voice greets you. “This is Kirishima.”

“Hey, Ei,” you start, weirdly nervous. “How are you and the rest of the squad?”

“Actually, that’s why I called you. Can you pick Bakugou up? He’s so drunk.”

Your Katsuki? Drunk?

For some reason, the idea of talking to a drunk Bakugou, who also happens to be the bluntest version of himself, elicits an unpleasant feeling in your gut.

“Really?” you ask, voice small. “How much did he drink?”

“Not a lot, but the alcohol percentage of the ones he downed are pretty high.”

When you don’t respond for a while, he pipes up with: “Y/N?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Kirishima sounds unsure when he asks, “Is everything okay with you guys?”

“Yes, Ei.” No, Ei. I inadvertently rejected his marriage proposal.

“Okay, that’s good to hear,” he starts. “It’s just that he barely mentioned you when he was still sober—which is a rare occurrence, if you only knew. He only started calling for you when he was three glasses in.”

Despite yourself, your stomach flips in delight. He’s still thinking about me, you think to yourself.

“Anyway, as I was saying, are you good to fetch him?”

“Yes,” you stand up and grab for your keys. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

You’re situating the car in your designated parking space when Bakugou finally stirs awake.

Once you’re parked, you turn off the engine before you reach over the console to unfasten his seatbelt. Yours follows shortly after.

You look at him, whose eyes are still closed.

“We’re here, Kats.”

At the sound of your voice, his eyes shoot open and he examines his environment, alarmed. Once he catches sight of you, though, he visibly relaxes.

Only to straighten up in his seat, stiff and unable to look you in the eye.

“You didn’t have to, uh,” he stammers, struggling to formulate coherent sentences. “Get me. You didn’t have to get me.”

You shoot him a small smile. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

He doesn’t say anything after that, eyes trained on your car’s windshield.

A moment passes before he speaks again.

“My mom made me do it, you know.”

You stare at his side profile. “Made you do what?”

“Propose to you.”

“Oh.”

He shakes his head, almost in disagreement. “The old hag really wants me to get married. I told her we didn’t have to get married because we’re happy the way things are and that shit is just for formality. Told me I’d be missing out on you wearing a wedding dress.”

You snort, “That’s what convinced you to ask me?”

He grins. “Nah. I just realized I wanted to get married if it was to you.”

Before you can even react, Bakugou shifts in his seat, breaking eye contact.

“It was stupid of me, though.”

Your stomach drops in anticipatory dread. “Stupid of you to what?”

He chuckles, although he seems anything but happy. “Was stupid of me to think someone like you would say yes to someone like me.

“I—” he stutters, “I wouldn’t marry me either.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He sighs, “Just…who the fuck do I think am, proposing to you? I was a horrible person who fucked things up so many times growing up. Maybe this is karma biting me back in the ass.”

“Katsuki.”

“You can do way be—”

“Katsuki!”

He jerks his head to face you, bewildered and eyes glassy.

You reach over the console to hold his scarred hand, staring him down.

“Look at me.”

He does so.

“You’re not that person anymore, alright?” You squeeze his hand, “Please don’t do this to yourself.”

Under the intensity of your gaze, Bakugou can only nod in affirmation before you engulf him in your first hug in what feels like weeks.

“Come on,” you say when you finally part, “Let’s get you ready for bed.”

Bakugou sleeps like a baby by your side that night. Meanwhile, you stay up until the wee hours of the morning, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep.

He thinks you don’t want to marry him.

Your heart aches at the very thought of him grappling with the most false of all statements.

You want to marry him, you really do, but all your fears suddenly rose to the surface and enveloped you the second he went on one knee.

And that’s what you’re planning to confess to him tonight.

You wait, wrapped in the thickest jacket you own, seated on the bench for Bakugou to come. You left him a note alongside his bento box earlier this morning—a note that says to meet you at the indicated address.

Lost in your thoughts and in your internal monologue, you startle when somebody sits next to you.

You look to your right, only to see Bakugou in his thickest jacket, a gray beanie covering his ash blonde locks, cheeks pink from the cold.

“Do you remember this place?” you ask, voice quiet.

He scoffs, “Of course I do, dumbass.”

At that, you chuckle. “This is where we had our first date.”

He grunts in agreement. He doesn’t say anything after that.

A few seconds pass before he finally pipes up with: “So why did you bring me here?”

Your heart’s pace quickens at the query.

You gulp, although your voice still ends up shaky. “I wanted to apologize.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

You shake your head, “You don’t understand.”

He chuckles, that same one that translates to anything but happiness. “I think I do. You don’t want to marry me, I get it.”

“No,” you say, voice louder. “I want to marry you.”

At your admission, Bakugou turns to look you in the eye. The hopeful expression on his face is staggering, you want to curl up into a ball and cry. “What?”

“I said,” you repeat, “I want to marry you.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Then why have you been acting like you don’t?”

At his question, you can’t help but clench your eyes closed. This is too much, you think to yourself, but you owe Bakugou the truth.

“I’m just scared, Kats. Truly. I—” you stammer, “I just can’t shake off the fear of losing you one day. And I know your capabilities and I know how hard you work. Just that—I don’t know. The fear of seeing you killed one day is paralyzing.”

Bakugou reaches out to you, and you let him wipe away the tears that are now falling down your cheeks.

“I’m scared, too,” he offers. “But I don’t know.”

He shakes his head, “I’m more scared of not being with you.”

At his confession, you can’t help but smile. “I think that’s how I feel, too.”

You rest your head on Bakugou’s shoulder, your hand in his. You stay like that for a few minutes before you pull away and turn to regard him again.

“Can we start over?” you ask, “I want to propose to you soon.”

Bakugou smirks, nothing but elation on his face. He takes your other hand and squeezes it.

“Not if I propose to you first.”

tagging. @katsukis1wife @rinalou @loverboyrin @brunnetteiwik @beabe19

as always, reblogs, comments, and tags are appreciated <3

[thetempleofnyx]

taking his knot | 𝕥𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕟𝕒𝕣𝕚

a.n: i want to eat him. cw. knotting

ʕ •̀ ω •́ ʔ

imagine the way he would switch between whimpering and growling. his hands slipping from your waist because he’s fucking you in such a frenzy that a sheen of sweat covers your body, the smell of your arousal driving him insane.

he flips you over flat on your stomach and fucks into you like that. he lets gravity do the work as he drops his hips against your ass, pounding into you. but when you cry for more, for him to fuck you harder and deeper, he grips the headboard and uses it to drive himself into you. the wood bangs against the wall as he splits you open, and he’s sure everyone person and creature in gandharva ville can hear your cries of pleasure.

he’s borderline delirious now. his body weight is comforting on top of you as he licks you from your shoulder up to your ear, nibbling on your skin as he whispers filthy promises of how your gonna take his knot, of how he’s gonna empty himself into your tight hole and fill you up. when he feels himself getting close, he quickly pulls out and turns you over and something about the lewd look on your face as he stretches you out makes him want to come even harder. he pushes your knees to your chest as he slips inside you, a harsh growl bubbling from his chest as he sets a harsh pace, hard and so deep that each thrust takes your breath away. you know he’s close when you feel yourself begin to stretch around him even more.

you press a hand to his lower stomach in an attempt to get him to slow down but he grabs it, holding it above your head as he leans in closer, “ gonna take this cock for me?” he whispers before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. it’s sloppy and messy as your teeth gnash together, his tongue swirling around yours.

he leans back again and holds your thighs down, your knees pressed to your ears now as he has you spread wide open. he pushes himself inside you one more time, slipping in with a wet pop. his grip is tight against your legs as his cock swells even more before coating your insides with thick ropes of creamy cum. he lets out the most salacious moans as he fills you, showering you with praises of “that’s it baby” and “fuck you feel so good, feel so warm” and “god you’re so good for taking all of my cum. for taking all of me.”

the sensation of fullness coupled with tighnari’s filthiness drives you over the edge. with a wail of his name so loud he’s sure the sages in sumeru city could hear, you tighten around his thick cock, and the vice grip you have on him causes him to choke. he collapses to your chest with a whine as his body shoots out even more cum. and after giving you all that he has, he lays there, his face pressed against your chest as he waits for both of you to catch your breaths. his tail curls around your waist as he slowly turns you guys over, his cock still inside you. you rest on top of him for a moment, the feeling of your body against his bringing you comfort as you come down from your high. your eyes are sliding shut when all of a sudden you feel him jerk underneath you. you look down at him to see his pretty eyes glowing, his canines growing a bit sharper as he asks you with a predatory grin,

“ready for round two??”

[dandylovesturtles]

Hello, I'm back again with another fic. This one is set right after the Hidden City episodes.

I got inspired by this pic of Leo, because I thought it was funny that they included the little hairs sticking out even while he's in the jail cell:

-----

Splinter's light is on. Which is odd, because he's certain he didn't leave it that way.

He'd fallen asleep in front of the big projector, and woke up to the sound of his sons playing one of those racing games they love. He'd told them not to stay up too late (something he was sure would be ignored) and then made his way back to the atrium to fall asleep in his room in front of his tube TV.

But light spilling out from under the door. When he gets closer, he can hear the sound of someone rummaging around inside.

Immediately, the worst case scenarios flood his head. One of their enemies has found them and is just inside, plotting some kind of attack against his life, or the lives of his children. They are just feet away, their shouts echoing down the corridor and into the atrium. Should he run and warn them? Or should he fight off the intruder?

In the end, he decides to go forward rather than back, creeping closer to the door. Silently he slides it open, just enough that he can look inside.

And there... is Blue, rummaging with intent through his nightstand drawer.

(Now that he thinks about it, there had been only three turtles in the TV room when he left. He'd just assumed Blue was in the bathroom, or getting a snack.)

He opens the door the rest of the way with much more sound, causing his son to jump a solid two feet in the air. "Blue! What are you doing?"

"GAH!" Blue whirls around, his hand held tight against his chest. "Holy crap, Dad! You gave me a heart attack!"

"Ninja should be more aware of their surroundings! Were you even watching the door?"

"I didn't think I would have to in my own house!"

"Well, let that be a lesson to you." Splinter folds his arms. "What are you looking for?"

Blue lowers his hands and shuffles back a step, grinning. "Looking for something? Whaaat makes you think I was looking for something?"

Splinter looks at the drawer Blue had been digging in when he arrived, its contents a mess. Blue glances at it as well, then back at Splinter.

"It was like that when I got here."

Splinter is not impressed. "Mm-hm."

"Heh, well... okay, I was looking for something, but I don't see it so I guess you don't have it." Blue eyes the atrium beyond Splinter, clearly trying to figure out how to slip past him. "Sooo I'll just be going now, haha!"

He tries to make his escape, but Splinter is quicker - he leaps up in the air, suspending himself in the doorframe, so that he is eye level with Blue just as he approaches.

"Blue. Tell me what you were looking for."

"Nothing important, seriously-"

"Leonardo-"

"A razor," he says quickly. "I was looking for a razor."

That... was not an answer he would have expected. Splinter can't keep the bafflement off his face. "A razor?"

"To shave with," Leo elaborates.

Splinter can't help but laugh at that, squinting at his son's smooth and hairless face. "Don't you feel like that is some wishful thinking, Blue?"

"Ugh!" Blue scowls at that, folding his arms. "I'm serious! Here, look at my head."

He bends his neck, and Splinter now sees what he's talking about: blonde hairs, scraggly and uneven, that dot his sons scalp in no discernable pattern. Splinter hadn't noticed it earlier, but his eyesight isn't what it used to be.

"What- where did those come from!?"

Blue straightens his head back up, looking both irritated and embarrassed. He doesn't seem eager to answer, but now that Splinter is thinking about it, this feels familiar...

Right! Yesterday, in the Hidden City! He'd gone to find Blue to borrow his odachi, and when he'd gotten there, Blue had a full head of blonde hair...

Ah.

Splinter lets himself drop to the ground. "Your hair yesterday... it was not a wig?"

Blue chews his lip for a moment before finally admitting, "It was some kind of... living hair yokai."

"Oh no... you let one of those on your head!? They are very dangerous! They sap your energy for themselves and take control of your sleeping body!"

"Yeah, that would have been great information to have a day ago." Blue rubs the top of his head self-consciously, then scowls. "Some of the hair stuck around, and... It just looks stupid, and it's kinda itchy, so..."

"Ah. Well, if I remember correctly, it will fall out on its own in a few days."

"Oh." Blue hesitates, then starts out the door again. "Okay. Well, uh... I'll get out of your hair, then."

He grins awkwardly as he slides past, and Splinter realizes just in time that he has not handled this correctly.

"Blue, wait," he says, and his son freezes just outside, glancing back over his shoulder. Splinter leaves him standing there, and goes to his dresser, pulling a thin black box out of one of the top drawers. There's an old shaving kit inside, complete with a razor that is still sharp. Splinter's not sure why he's kept it around, since he doesn't shave since becoming a rat (unless he's sick with the Rat Flu, of course, but for that he uses the electric trimmer), but he supposes it will come in handy tonight.

He walks back to Blue, holding the razor above his head. "Aha! Here we go."

"Oh! Thanks, daddio," Blue says with a grin, reaching out to take it - but Splinter does not hand it to him.

"Absolutely not. If you try to shave your own head you'll just carve yourself like a turkey." He lowers the razor and steps past Blue, into the atrium. "Grab a stool and meet me in the bathroom. I'll do it for you."

He doesn't hear Blue's footsteps moving. "Seriously? Come on, I can do it myself."

"No complaints!" He beckons Blue on with his tail. "Come on! I know exactly what I'm doing!"

"...Ough boy," Blue mutters, but he moves to do as Splinter's told him, and that's enough.

-----

They reconvene in the bathroom, as he instructed. He has Leo sit on the stool in front of the sink - it just works out that he can lean his neck against the basin, while Splinter perches in the sink itself for a good view.

"Now, I think we might have... Aha, here we go!"

He pulls shaving cream out of the medicine cabinet; again, he's not sure why they have this, since none of them shave, but he wouldn't be surprised if the boys use it to pull pranks on each other. Besides, it just feels like a normal thing to have in a home full of men, even if they don't strictly need it.

He squirts some into his hand, then layers it across Blue's scalp. Blue giggles like he's ticklish, and Splinter shooshes him, even though he can't keep a little grin off his face at that.

Then he carefully starts to shave across Blue's scalp, starting in the middle and working his way out. The hairs are pretty sparse, but some of them are too fine for him to see, so it's better to just do the whole scalp and be sure to catch them all.

"Why is it that you let the yokai on your head in the first place?" he asks a few strokes in. He's curious about it, after all.

"I didn't let it," Leo argues. "I got tricked. The guy who gave it to me told me it was just a potion to grow hair."

"Aaaah... And it was a scam. I'm guessing that's how you came to be in jail when we got there?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that's alright." Splinter pats his shoulder. "Live and learn!"

Though, that didn't answer the question Splinter had actually been getting at. Blue says nothing else, so he tries again.

"But... why did you want to grow hair?" When Blue doesn't answer right away, he adds, "Do you wish you had hair?"

"No," says Blue. "...Yes. ...Maybe?"

Splinter has to bite back a chuckle. "I see."

Blue sighs, wringing his hands in his lap. "I mean, I guess I never really thought about it too much? It's fun to wear wigs sometimes, but I never really cared about being bald, before..."

He trails off. "Before?" Splinter prompts.

Blue is chewing on his lip again. "Have you ever heard of Hirsute? The fancy beach club?"

"Oh, of course!" Splinter grins at the recognizable name. Now that he remembers, wasn't that where he'd found Blue? "They have veeery strict requirements for membership, but of course I was always allowed in because Lou Jitsu had such perfect-"

He cuts himself off, looking down at Blue, the peeks of his bald scalp through the shaving cream. Finally, he has all the pieces.

"...They wouldn't let you in, would they?" he asks, hands stilling in their task.

Blue chuckles dryly. "Even better. I got in but they threw me out."

"...Hmph." Splinter gives his foot a stomp against the porcelain. "Well, who needs their resort, anyway? Honestly, their drinks were overpriced and their steaks were always too dry."

"I already saw how nice it was, Dad, but thanks for trying to help."

"Mm, well, we will find an even nicer one! One that does not discriminate."

"Yeah, sure," says Blue, but he sounds downcast. And really, Splinter doesn't know what to tell him. He doesn't know how they would find this mythical tolerant beach club.

"You've... always told us to be careful, with humans," says Blue after a few moments of silence. His eyes are locked on the ceiling, hands still held tight in his lap. "About not letting them see us, and all that."

"...Yes," says Splinter sadly. He wishes it wasn't so, but it was for their safety. "I was worried... about how they would treat you boys."

"I know," says Blue. "And I get it. I know not everyone is April."

"Unfortunately not," Splinter agrees.

"But even most of the humans who've actually met us... They were cool with it, or at least, if they hate us, it's for non-turtle reasons. So it was like, I knew that there were humans who would be scared, or who might even try to hurt us, but they were always... You know." Blue waves his hand in the air. "Like... a concept, or whatever."

"Hmmm... Abstract?" Splinter suggests, and Blue snaps his fingers.

"Yeah! Abstract. I didn't have a face or a voice, just a vague idea that someone could be a jerk to me. And..." He lowers his hand and rubs it up and down his arm. "I thought since I knew that, I wouldn't be surprised when it finally happened? But... then an actual person was looking at me, a real person, and telling me that I wasn't good enough. Telling me that I wasn't allowed in just because of something I can't even help, just... the way my head is, and... and I don't know. It was just way worse than I thought it was going to be."

Splinter's hands still again, his heart clenching in his chest. Oh, his son. His sweet Baby Blue...

"And," Blue continues quickly, "I know it's dumb, it's just a snooty beach club, and it's just hair, and I just need to get over it-"

"Blue," Splinter cuts him off urgently. He nudges his shoulders, trying to get the boy to sit up. "Leo. Please look at me."

Blue sits up, slowly turning on the stool to face the sink. His eyes are suspiciously red-rimmed, and Splinter feels a rush of emotions so strong they nearly sweep him off his feet. Hurt, for his son who was made to feel bad over something so trivial, and fury, for the people who caused the injury.

He reaches out and cups his son's face, rubbing the pad of his thumb over his cheeks. His sons are more muscular than other children their age, but Blue still has baby fat on his cheeks. Splinter resists the urge to squish them.

"I wish they could all see what I see," he says softly. "A young man who is so handsome, strong, and clever."

Blue's lip trembles slightly. "But they won't."

"Some will," he promises. "Not everyone is April... but she is not the only one, either."

"Just wish I knew who was an April and who wasn't," Blue says. "Before I get kicked out on my butt."

"Mm. It is hard. Some people make it obvious, and so many more do not." Splinter sighs. "When I came to America, I was already a celebrity. And still, there were many who did not accept me, or who did not think they needed to listen to me, or who were cruel. And it was the same, when I was taken to the Hidden City."

Blue gives him a sad, crooked smile. "You felt like an outsider, too, huh?"

"Very much, yes. Human and yokai... there are prejudices everywhere."

"So how do you deal with it?"

"Mm... there is no easy answer." Splinter guides Blue to turn around and lean against the sink again, before rest of the shaving cream drips. "I wish I could tell you that this is the worst you will ever face, but I can't promise you that. But I do not wish for you boys to hide from the world forever, either. Even if it is only among the yokai... I want what all parents want for their children."

"For them to have grandchildren?" Blue asks.

"Yes!" Splinter chuckles. "Cute babies to play with and then give back." He finishes shaving the last of Blue's head, then grabs a wash cloth to wipe him clean. "But no. I meant that, for all the people who may be cruel to you... I want there to be many more who are kind. And who love you as I do."

Blue's voice is soft as he mutters, "Oh."

"And I also want you to remember," Splinter leans forward, and kisses Blue on his forehead "that you are accepted here no matter what." He snorts. "Even if you want to make that hairstyle permanent."

"Oh, come on!" Blue huffs and gets up from the stool, his deeper green blush visible even though he is trying to look annoyed. "It wasn't that bad!"

"I'm just saying, I think you can do better!"

"What do you know, old man?" Blue scowls, but it's playful.

"Old man!? Hmph, the disrespect..." He folds his arms, then nods at the door. "We're done, so I'm going to bed. Your brothers are having some kind of go-karting tournament in the TV room."

"Oh shoot, I'm missing it!" Blue turns to run out, then skids to a stop and spins on his heel, running back and scooping Splinter out of the sink and into a hug.

"Thanks, Dad," he says, and Splinter can't help but chuckle, giving his shell a pat.

"Of course, Blue."

Blue sets him down, then turns and runs off again. Splinter can hear him yell, "Dibs on next race!" from down the corridor.

Splinter rinses the razor clean, then puts it back in his box. He considers taking it back to his room, but in the end he changes his mind, slotting it into the medicine cabinet.

Who knows? Maybe someone will need it again, one day.

[zer0pm]

Imagine demanding Luis to unlock your chains. When he doesn’t, you take matters into your own hands.

A/N: DID SOMEONE SAY PART 2 OF THIS PIECE?!

You did and I’m grateful for all the love that has been thrown for my work. So here’s me giving some of that love back. Hope you enjoy 🙏

Warning: SMUT AHEAD. Look away, minors! Look away! Avert your eyes from the sexual content! Shoo! Begone!

Warning 2: It’s quite long so mentally prepare yourself.

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“I still didn’t catch your name.”

The cheek on this guy. Using the fact that he holds the key to your restraints as a bargaining chip to become familiar with you. As if he hadn’t just forced you into a partnership with him already. The absolute nerve. You had more important things to do, such as finding Leon and the president’s daughter. And this Luis Serra was effectively wasting your precious time. Well, two can play this game.

You start by offering him an inviting smile before relaxing your hands until your palms pressed flat against his chest. The man didn’t seem to fully register your subtle movement until you slid them upwards, feeling the fine leather beneath your fingertips. The motion takes him by surprise, his eyes following your touch. He then casts an inquisitive glance your way.

“¿Que haces?” Apparently he wasn’t expecting this, convinced that you didn’t much care for him and thus was taken so off guard that he slipped into his native tongue. He must have remembered himself right after as he repeated the question, making sure that it sounded more direct. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Voice comes out in a low, sultry drawl as you grip the lapel of his jacket with one hand, gently tugging at the material. “I’m about to give you what you want. But I’m going to need you to come closer.”

Once you were certain that you had his complete attention while also making sure that you didn’t lose yourself in the mesmerizing grey of his eyes, you make your move. With your other hand, as best as the chains allowed, you reach for the key that was lodged in the lock of your chains. Disguising your intention, you run your fingers down the expanse of his chest in an explorative manner. This earned an appreciative hum from the Spaniard as he leans his head towards you expectantly.

Too easy.

Mindful not to look down between you two so as to not give yourself away, you lean in as well while also blindly searching for the key. “My name is…” you whisper. His bated breath mingles with yours, the lids of his eyes heavy, grey growing dark in anticipation. Another inch from either one of you and the gap will close. Just as your fingertips touched the end of the key, something warm firmly grips your hand. A sudden chill runs down your spine.

You can hear the reverb of something between a scoff and a chuckle come from Luis’ lips. “Nice try,” he smirks knowingly.

With a strength that catches you off guard, he pushes you away from him. Key in hand. He flaunts the tiny piece of metal before swinging his arm as if he was making a play to toss it aside. In your panic, you jump towards him, shoving him off balance with your shoulder. He breaks your fall as you two tumble down together.

The man curses in Spanish from the sudden pain and you took advantage of this by quickly searching for the key. You spot it a bit of a ways above Luis’ head and use both bound hands to reach for it once more. The chain that links your wrists together are caught by a familiar hand and suddenly pulled down until your hands were restrained between your two bodies once more. You sigh in frustration and the man beneath you clicks his tongue against his teeth.

There is an amused glimmer in his gaze as he speaks. “The stubborn-type, eh? All this trouble over a name.”

You in turn throw him an annoyed glare. “I was going to say the same about you.”

Instead of showing offense, he laughs. “Perhaps we’re more alike than you might think.”

Rather than entertain him further, you try to wrestle against his hold. Luis seemed prepared for it this time, matching your strength, only he had the advantage as he had free reign of his arms and hands. One hand kept your chained hands between your chests, the other gripped at the bicep of your arm, effectively minimizing upper body movement. Out of instinct, you rebelliously wriggle with your hips and legs with the sole focus of getting off of him. However, the man’s longer limbs kept you caged against him and the only thing you managed to do was awkwardly seat your bottom on him, knees bent by his sides.

When you grounded down in your struggle, the man tensed below you. Thinking you have finally one-up him, you repeated the action and noticed he wasn’t nearly putting up as good a fight as he did before. This allowed you to sit upright, dragging his hand with you until his arm extended slightly, and you continued your efforts to be free of him.

Luis’ breath became labored. “Stop.” he commands with gritted teeth, his voice barely above a whisper. When you didn’t listen to him, he moved his other hand from your arm to your hip, squeezing harshly in warning.

“¡Basta! Stop moving!” he growls.

You bark back defiantly, “I’ll get off when you let me get the fuckin-“

That’s when you felt it. Or rather- him. A hardness pressed beneath your nether region. Despite the layers of fabric, there was no mistaking the telling throbbing pushing up against you as if demanding your attention below.

Your throat runs dry but your brain kept sending signals to your mouth. “Ar…. Are you-“

“Sí.” the man had a pained, conflicted look about him, a picture of breathtaking self-control as he kept his body completely still. His eyes didn’t meet yours, gaze locked upon where your hips met as if to keep himself in check and not allow his body’s desires to act out untowardly.

“Surely you know how the human body works,” he tries to sound clinical, face strained in vague distress, “and will not fault me for the involuntary reactions of mine. It already doesn’t help that you’re easy on the eyes.”

You should be chastising him for getting excited when it was neither the time or place and danger was surely around the corner, but bit your lip at your own wave of pleasure upon feeling his arousal pulse. A totally different kind of heat washes over you.

What do you do now?

Neither of you spoke for a moment, a tense silence settling in until Luis breaks it with a forced cough.

“Well, this is- uh, fun.” he says without humor. “Pero, perhaps we can call it even and stop the game here. ¿Sí?”

His words went in one ear and out the other. You were frustrated beyond belief. Fueled by adrenaline and temptation. There was no one around. And you have an impossibly handsome Spanish man between your legs with a hard-on for you.

When you didn’t answer, he spoke up again. “As much as I like this position, I must regrettably ask that you- Whoa!”

As best as you could, you shoot your bound hands straight up in the air. As he still had a grip on the chain link, Luis was dragged upright into a seated position from the floor and his face stopped right in front of yours. The movement caused friction in both of your sensitive areas, mouths could do nothing to stop the groans that escaped them. His eyes open to your heated gaze, confusion and desire swirling in the grey irises.

You breathe, “You talk too much, Luis Serra.”

And it was you who closed the distance. Teeth and tongue clashed in a new battle filled with pent-up energy and lust. Your mind quickly becomes hazy as you allowed yourself to be consumed in his emanating heat and musky scent. A nip at his bottom lip earned you an enthusiastic thrust of his hips, an appreciative squeeze at your bottom rewarded him with a carnal moan from your mouth. The only time you pulled back was for air and the man before you glances between your dazed eyes and bruised lips, hypnotized by your already ruined appearance.

“Are we, uh, still playing the same game?” His question nearly disarms you. You have a feeling he was really asking if you were of sound of mind about this. Your eyes roll reflexively.

“Really going to keep running your mouth?” You then follow up with a roll of your hips, the Spaniard throws his head back with a deep, guttural groan. Dark wavy locks brush against his cheekbones, eyes shut closed. With his thick neck exposed, you steal kisses along his sensitive pulse and stubbled jaw. Another primal groan vibrates from his throat.

“Eres muy mala.” Luis grumbles without a hint of disdain. Rather, when you finally pull back to allow him to look at you, you find him wearing that familiar cocky smirk. “But I must admit, I’m kind of into it.”

A charmer through and through this man is. His next move takes you by surprise.

He shoves you off of him.

As soon as you recover from your initial shock, the dark-haired man grabs you by the chain again and drags you to the far end of the room, further away from the key and exit. Using his strength and your own momentum against you, Luis tosses you forward. Your upper body lands right on top of a wide metal table propped against the dingy concrete wall.

He takes advantage of your momentary state of confusion by forcing your arms to extend towards the wall. It wasn’t until you heard the unmistakable click of metal did you fully regain your senses and look up to see what he did. The arrogant man used one of the wall mounts to lock your chains taut in place. He literally chained your chains. You’re caught in a trap again!

Just as you were about to curse him out, you feel something hard press firmly against your bottom followed by a pair of warm hands settling at your hips and the heat you didn’t realize you were missing came back in throes. You almost wanted to point out how unfair the shift in dynamic was, but all coherent thoughts were thrown out the window when he started grinding into you.

“There,” Luis hums at your apparent silence, “much better.”

Damn him. And he had the gall to say you were bad.

His movements were slow and methodical, like he was testing the waters to see if you were actually fine with this. Your pleased sighs were the signs he needed to continue and go beyond. Next, you feel his curious hands rubbing at your sides over your shirt before he lifts it enough to slip them beneath the fabric. Feeling his skin on yours sent chills throughout your body. His touch wanders, palming at your every curve, line, and muscle and you melted into his hands, encouraging his exploration.

The temperature in the room was becoming unbearably hot. As if hearing this thought, you were pulled up by your torso as far as the chains would allow and felt your back meet his chest. Now, his hardness was at your lower back and you purposefully melded your backside against his straining cock, mentally drawing the length of him. Needless to say, without even seeing it, you were impressed by his size. The man didn’t carry himself confidently without warrant. A soft, almost adoring kiss upon the shell of your ear pulls you from your shameless thoughts.

He whispers hoarsely, “My friend, are you particularly fond of this shirt?”

“What?” you manage to choke out. “Why are you aski-”

The sound of tearing answered your question before you can finish it. Tattered fabric scatters around your feet and the air within the room suddenly felt like soft caresses on your bare torso.

“You didn’t even let me answer!” Your voice sounded more excited than annoyed.

“Lo siento. You were too slow.” Luis presses another chaste kiss to the side of your head. However, you can practically feel his wicked grin. “And frankly, are much too sexy for clothing, anyways.”

Damn, this man was making you feel things.

Despite your skin now bare against the elements, it did little to alleviate the heat building within you. It only amplified when his hands returned to your form, making a slow, sinful journey from your stomach to your upper chest. The pad of his fingers push upon the sensitive buds of your nipples, earning a wanton gasp from your lips. His hips jerk forward at the sound you made, his erection pulsing against your ass, sparking tiny, wonderful jolts of electricity within you. The sensations were making your toes curl.

One hand sneaks back down, his thumb finding it’s way under the hem of your jeans and underwear. His reach teases towards your sensitive spot and you bite your lip in anticipation, wanting so badly for him to touch you where you need him to but your mind too much of a mess to voice it into proper words.

“Mírate,” his warm breath fans against your ear in hoarse, gentle whispers. “Promixa vez… Te quiero llevar a la cama.”

You only manage to translate “Next time…” until the synapses in your brain fire all at once when his fingers began to toy your sex without warning. When his skillful hand deftly undid your jeans, you didn’t know, but at the moment, you didn’t care.

Holy hell. This guy was playing your body like a fine-tuned instrument and your voice eagerly sounded to his ministrations. Your moans and gasps music to his ears. The coil in the pit of your stomach was tightening to the point of snapping as his hand quickened the pace upon your bundle of nerves. He was stroking you graciously while also harshly grinding you into the edge of the table from behind. Your voice was reaching greater heights from the onslaught of overwhelming sensations.

“Last chance, my friend.” Luis growls, barely reigning in his instinct to simply bend you over and have his way with you. “Are we still playing the same game?”

The same question echoes. He asks one thing but really means another. This dashing, infuriating man is asking you if you want to go all the way, past the point of no return. Luis Serra is a stranger. Yet he had the sense and consideration to weigh your feelings in the matter, giving you an choice to opt out even though it would have been so easy to let it lie and let your baser instincts take over. It was almost romantic in a way. You didn’t have to think twice about this.

“Either you fuck me now,” you pant, chains clinking around your wrists, “or I’ll find my way out of these and fuck you myself.”

Luis chuckles lowly in intrigue. “¿Prometes?”

He makes quick work on the rest of your clothing, letting your pants and underwear fall at your ankles. He helps guide you completely out of them. It was probably a strange sight. You completely exposed while he was completely clothed. The only bits of him you can hear rustling is the buckle of his belt and the zipper of his pants coming undone. You were starting to shiver from anxious chills until you felt an arm wrap around you assuringly.

A patient hand gently fingers your entrance, preparing your body for something larger. You eventually move along rhythm of his fingers, goading him to take it to the next level and he acquiesces to your silent request. The heavy heat of his cock that was poking between the gap of your thighs move upwards. Your body instinctively tenses when the head of his member prods against your opening. Luis’ lips pressed against your temple in comfort and finally, finally, he slowly sinks into you. You gasp and he curses.

No amount of foreplay could have prepared you for him. Not all the way in and already you felt so full of him, his cock throbbing against every sensitive nerve inside of you. You whimper in both pain and pleasure and Luis tends to you by wrapping his arms around your middle, planting more kisses along the side of your head right behind your ear.

“Estoy aquí, ángel. Té tengo.”

Like the gentleman he portrays himself to be, he waits for you to relax around him. With great self-control, he pumps into you slowly with a tenderness that could bring tears to your eyes. The initial discomfort soon faded and was replaced by wonderful bouts of sensual ecstasy that has you gasping. Luis keeps up the pace with gusto, nearly pulling all the way out and slamming back into you. The pressure he was piling inside you with every thrust has you screaming to the point that you can feel your voice growing hoarse. Meanwhile, you can hear him moaning his praises for you in his birth tongue. This man wasn’t just talking himself a big game. He knows what he’s doing, fueling his pleasure by ensuring your own. And he was making certain that you chased yours fast.

He pulls out and you involuntarily whimper at the loss of contact. You weren’t left alone for long as he lifts you to lay on your side on the table, your hands forced to rise above your head at this new position. Luis grabs a hold of one of your legs and bends it at the knee over his shoulder, entering your heat once more. Your blood boils fiercely at this new angle, you can see him and everything he was doing to you. And he can see you’re practically rendered speechless with every powerful thrust. At this rate, you weren’t going to last. The fluttering inside your core now popping like firecrackers.

Sweat pours down his handsome face, pupils dilated black with desire for you. “¿Cómo te llamas, ángel? Tell me. And I’ll give you what you want.”

He’s asking for your name again. The catalyst behind this whole affair. “Really bent on that, aren’t you?” you manage to pant out, your lungs barely keeping up with each strong snap of his hips.

“I wasn’t at first, only wanted to tease you.” He groans, his voice finding difficulty to stay level when he’s fucking into you without abandon. “But now- ah! I really want to know. I want to call out your name. ¡Joder! Let me call out your name, mi amor.”

The way he was begging tugged at you deep. Your name was on the edge of your tongue, but your heart was gripped with fear. Fear that if you so much as uttered what he’s asking of you, the spell would be broken and you’d be left unsatisfied. This felt too damn good to risk ruin with sentimentality. So you did what you have been doing best. Prevaricate. And make him want you more.

“Uncuff me. And I’ll tell you anything. Anything you want.”

You feel the vibrations of a laugh rumble deep from his chest.

“Eres tan… ¡Mierda!”

Like a cord finally snapping, the dam breaks and everything building inside spills out with a long, final cry of ecstasy. Stars dotted your vision, for a moment you forgot to breathe as you feel yourself unraveling. Within, you feel him cumming inside as well. Liquid hot ropes painting your insides, leaving you quivering uncontrollably. His hips slow to an eventual stop, his voice coming out in soft, satisfied sighs.

Slowly letting your leg down, Luis pulls himself out and hovers over you, hands flat beside your head. The man peppers your back and shoulders with soft nips and kisses. His stubble makes slow, sensual scratches along your skin as he reaches up to the flesh of your ear, biting onto the lobe affectionately. You turn your head to meet his lips with yours, noting how wonderful his kisses feel. He pulls away slightly to study you intently, varying emotions flashing over his eyes.

“Now,” he started, “about that name.”

Back at this again. You had to admire the man for his tenacity. “Told you already,” you huff once your breath returned to you, tugging at the chains around your wrist. “Remove these cuffs and I’ll think about it.”

His voice cracks in disbelief, “That was not what you said- ¿En serio? After all of that?”

“You’re more than welcome to keep working for it.” The words left your lips before you can stop them and an amused groan escapes from Luis’ own, sending another sinful heat to flow down your core.

“Eres muy mala.” He sighs with a shake of his head. There was no hint of annoyance in his husky tone, a devilish smirk plastered on his face. “Hanging with you- not healthy.”

“Right back at ya.” The remark earned a swift smack on your ass. You almost yelp out of reflex and shifted your eyes to glare at him.

The way he looked at you, however, tells you that he wasn’t against the idea of going again. And truthfully, you were all for it. Luis leans over to capture your lips once more, sweet and filled with promise, while his hand began to wander your body mischievously. The familiar tingle of heat starts to boil inside-

The alarming sound of inhuman groans down the hall jolts you two from your intimate high. Spell broken and you fully take in your nakedness in this increasingly dire situation.

“Get these chains off, Luis!”

“¡Sí, sí! Right away!”

[hyoqa]

pairing: hoshina soushirou x gn!reader (no prns)

summary: two secret admirers except he is actually insanely down bad for you its crazy

warnings: mentions the readers face 'flushing', it's kind of from hoshinas pov it's mostly his thoughts and voices, I cannot tell if hoshinas ooc but he's rather quiet with a whole ton of thoughts so idk if that's not it for you pls beware

Unlike one would expect, he was rather one to just sit back and admire. This is not to say he'd let a random guy just snatch you away, but he often couldn't do much more than just admire. It even surprised himself whenever he caught himself watching from afar again, but it really did make sense. He was one of hard work that no one would see, for as long as he could remember. Attention was not something he was used to, nor was it something he craved intensely. So what you had going on was fine for him, he was the happiest he's been just working with you every day.

However, sometimes at night, he'd wonder what it would be like if the one he loved, loved him back. What if he could make you smile and get you flustered? He wanted to know, but he convinced himself he didn't need to, nor could he.

Yet, one day those humble thoughts did a complete 180. He couldn't help it anymore, you had to be his.

It was no special day, at least not until you came along at least. It wasn't that big of a deal— it really wasn't, but the way your face flushed when his hand accidentally grazed your cheek would never be forgotten.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he had said, immediately. He spun you around and touched the place he grazed, asking if you were okay.

"I'm, I'm perfectly fine, thank you," you said avoiding eye contact. You didn't mean to be rude but you knew your face was bright red and you couldn't dare see his expression.

But you should've. You absolutely should've. His heart clenched at the sight and his eyes widened, he was undeniably in love with you, anyone could tell. He didn’t know if he had any effect on you, or if you were just not used to people touching your cheek, but he couldn’t care less at the moment. He would be damned to let anyone see that look on your face, let alone cause it, so there was no choice but to make you his. He wanted you so badly, but he just didn't know how.

Now all through the day, he found himself thinking about you— he didn't think it could possibly get worse. He noticed everything you did more than ever. He noticed how your horrible sleep schedule was finally a little better, he noticed how you noticed everyone's new achievements and always remembered to compliment them, he noticed how you'd still sneak out in the middle of the night to train when you just couldn't fall asleep. He knew all these things, and yet he didn't know what to do.

A few weeks had passed and he was training late into the night again, but his thoughts were filled with you. It was getting late and he was finally going to call it a night, and that was when he finally noticed you by the door. When your eyes first met, he truly thought he was hallucinating— thought that the fatigue and the constant thought of you had made him go insane. Until you spoke, that was.

“I apologize,” you said in a hurry, your eyes shooting around until they slowly met his again. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

‘Didn’t mean to stare’? ‘Stare’? How long had you been there for? You were waiting for him to say something, but that was not even on his mind at the moment. As smart as he was, there were constantly thoughts flooding his head and all he had were questions. Why were you here? Why did you stay? Why were you still up? Were you having a hard time sleeping? Did he wake you up? Was he making a lot of noise? No, your room should be far enough away from the training room. Then why were you all the way here? Did you want to train too? Was he in the way? Were you—

“I’ll um, leave you to your training,” you said quickly, snapping him out of his flood of thoughts. “Sorry to bother you.”

You were turning away to leave when he reached out for your wrist. His mind was still blank but naturally the question he wanted answers to the most slipped right out of his mouth.

“Why…” he asked softly, eyes wide with surprise. “Why… were you here?”

You were just as surprised and you also didn’t know how to respond. “I couldn’t sleep, unfortunately,” you said slowly. It wasn’t a lie, you really were struggling to sleep— however you did turn the corner in the hall to see if the lights in the training room were on, and you did hope he was the one still up late. Yet, to your surprise his expression relaxed and he almost looked disappointed as he carefully released the grip on your wrist.

“But you need to get some rest as well,” you said, wanting to say something, anything, to keep you in this moment.

“You’re absolutely right,” he said. He was getting no rest tonight, he knew he was going to be up late just thinking about you or thinking about how he’s mildly heartbroken. He was tired of being stuck in his thoughts though and, maybe from the fatigue, it slipped out of him. “I wish you were here to see me.”

He only realized what he had said after he heard himself say it. Immediately the thoughts were back. Oh but it was quiet… perhaps you hadn’t heard it? Not a chance. What does he say next? Does he play it off? That would be such a scummy move. Oh, why would he do that? He had gotten so far keeping his feelings to no one other than himself, keeping quiet, admiring from afar, why now?

“I was!” you said, immediately. “I was here to see you!”

What did you say?

“I was hoping you were the one still training. I was hoping I’d see you tonight,” you said clearly.

He was about to embrace you when he caught himself right before he threw his arms around you. His hands were placed on your shoulders and his face was so close to yours. “Sorry, I’m literally drenched in sweat,” he said. “That would’ve been disgusting.”

“I don’t mind, I can always shower again,” you said, more eager for the hug than anything else.

“No, you need to sleep, it’s late,” he said, but he had to admit that pulled at his heart.

“Okay, then this will have to suffice,” you said and kissed him quickly.

He couldn’t believe his eyes. Not to be dramatic, but this was the moment he had been dreaming of for so long now.

His head was hanging, avoiding any eye contact— he didn’t want you to see his face flushed.

“I am so insanely in love with you.”

[n0cturna1-m3]

Hot & Heavy | Bottom! Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Top! Male Reader | Smut

Minors/Fem DNI

Request(s); "Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick with sounding, praise, and breeding if you don't mind 😃..." and "...Could you write sounding and edging a tied up Gaz. I need to make that man beg and whimper..."

Warnings; Sounding (DO NOT LOOK IT UP IF U DONT KNOW WHAT IT IS! JUST DONT READ THIS FIC!! MOVE ON!), hand jobs, anal fingering, anal sex, cream pie, bareback, withheld orgasm, little bit of praise, this is probably bad im sorry

Synopsis; there isnt even a plot man just read the warnings

A/N; haha... sorry for ... not writing in 6 months or whatever.... im back now though! right..? ...

1.7k words

Kyle sighed and shuffled in his place on the bed. his arms were tied above him, wrists secured to the headboard, and back flush to the mattress. Y/N was settled between his legs and holding his bare hips while kissing at his neck, sucking dark hickeys onto the smooth skin.

“Hurry up,” he whispered, desperately wriggling in place. Y/N snickered and sat up, adjusting his hands to hold Kyle’s thighs instead.

He looked stunning all strung up, muscles stretched from the irregular position. His eyebrows were furrowed in frustration, his face burning from desire.

“What do you want me to do?” Y/N asked. Kyle groaned with exasperation. He was hard and leaking against his stomach from nothing more than kissing and light touches that only grazed the places he wanted them.

“Anything,” he pleaded.

“Anything?” Kyle swallowed thickly but nodded. “Okay.”

Y/N smiled before climbing off the bed to gather a few items. Kyle watched him with a twinge of curiosity.

When he returned to where he was previously sitting with a bottle of lube and a small case, Kyle curled a brow. “What the hell is that?”

“You can say no,” Y/N said. He could tell Kyle was intrigued by the way he pursed his lips and eyed the case, silently waiting to see what was inside. Y/N unzipped it and opened it before tilting it so that Kyle could see its contents.

His immediate reaction was that of mild disgust, raising an eyebrow and scrunching his nose. His Upper lip pulled at one corner showing his teeth.

“Is that what I think it is?”

Y/N sheepishly nodded. He was embarrassed now. He shouldn't have brought it up. It was a foolish idea. Kyle’s expression softened as he looked at Y/N’s face and he sighed.

“We can try it.” Y/N perked up and stared at Kyle, trying to read him to make sure he wasn’t teasing him.

“Are you sure?” he asked. He was hesitant. He wouldn’t want to pressure Kyle into doing something he didn’t want to do.

Kyle shrugged as best as he could with his arms bound above his head.

“I’ll try anything once,” he said. Y/N beamed and leaned forward, kissing him on the lips before pulling away.

“Thank you.” Y/N set the case aside before placing his hands on Kyle’s abdomen. He dipped his head into the crook of Kyle’s neck and began placing kisses on the soft skin, all the while running his hands up and down his torso.

Kyle sighed and rolled his head to the other side, allowing a broader space for Y/N to mouth. Y/N inhaled deeply. The smell of Kyle’s cologne drove him mad. Everything about him did.

Y/N moved one of his hands down Kyle’s stomach, grazing his skin with his fingertips before wrapping his hand around Kyle’s cock. The latter groaned and rolled his hips up into Y/N’s hand. His desperation for touch was finally being fulfilled.

Pre-cum dripped from the slit of Kyle’s dick, the liquid beading on the tip before being swept away by Y/N’s thumb brushing over the sensitive head. He nipped at Kyle’s neck one last time before pulling away.

Grabbing the lune, Y/N popped the cap and poured a generous amount into the palm of his hand before setting it aside again. He reached for the case and pulled the thinnest of the rods from it, then placed it in his wet palm to lubricate it. Kyle watched nervously.

“Shouldn’t you use one of the, uh, smooth ones?” he asked. The rod Y/N had chosen was ribbed with a ring at the end, which made him anxious.

“This one will hold the lube in it better, make it a smoother process,” he replied. Y/N looked up and met Kyle’s gaze. He chewed his lip for a moment before leaning down to kiss him softly. “It won’t hurt, I promise.”

Kyle nodded.

Y/N held the end of the rod in his dry hand and used the other to hold Kyle’s weeping cock, the latter groaning under his gentle touch. He stroked him a few times before stopping his movements and pressing the rod to his slit.

Slowly, he began pushing it inside. Kyle’s breath quickened and his legs twitched as the first passed through his cock. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, but it was certainly strange.

“Fuck, that feels so weird,” he muttered. Y/N glanced up at him while slowly pushing it further inside. He didn’t miss how Kyle’s gaze was glued to his dick. Staring at the point where the metal was disappearing gradually.

A deep groan left Kyle’s parted lips when it was finally fully inside, leaving only the ring visible.

“I can feel it in my arse, what the fuck,” he said. His face was twisted up with pleasure as heat coursed through him.

Y/N leaned forward and began kissing Kyle’s chest again. Nipping at his soft skin while his hands roamed his body, eventually resting on his hips. His right hand slowly inched towards Kyle’s dick, wrapping around it and eliciting a moan from the other man. Y/N slowly began pumping his cock, slick with precum and lube. It caused the rod to move slightly, a strange feeling he’d never felt before. But it wasn’t unpleasant. He was shocked that it wasn’t, to be frank.

“Fuck…” Kyle drawled, letting his head roll back and closing his eyes. Y/N glanced up at him and smiled, pleased with himself that his lover was enjoying himself.

“I love you,” he whispered, resting his cheek on his chest. “You’re so good for me. Such a good boy.”

Kyle bit his lip and opened his eyes to look at Y/N, who met his gaze and held it. It was almost intimidating.

“Is there something you want?” Y/N asked, a twinge of mocking laced into his words. Kyle groaned and wriggled on the bed for a moment before going limp. All the while Y/N kept languidly pumping his cock.

“Can’t you just-” he broke off into a whine as Y/N twisted his wrist, moving his hand faster.

Y/N looked at him with a cheeky grin.

“What was that, love?”

Kyle huffed and nudged Y/N with his knee.

“Listen, big guy, if you don’t take care of me right now when you let me out of these cuffs I’ll beat your arse and make you sleep on the couch.”

Y/N just snickered and ignored him, keeping up his slow, teasing and rhythmic motions. Pressing his thumb against the top of the rod and pushing it deeper, squeezing the base of his cock, pulling back his foreskin and placing a gentle kiss on the exposed tip.

Anything to rile him up.

Anything to make him beg.

It wasn’t long before tears were welling in Kyle's eyes. His breath was shallow and quick, and it left his head fuzzy and his limbs tingling.

“Will you please just fuck me,” Kyle pleaded.

Y/N glanced up at him from where he was crouched down, lapping at his length. He grinned and nodded before removing his hands from Kyle’s body, one moving to hold his hip, the other in between his legs, prodding at his hole.

Two fingers immediately eased inside of him, causing a low groan to erupt from Kyle’s throat. His head lolled back, hitting the pillow. He dug his heels into the mattress, silently pleading for Y/N to pick up the pace. So he did.

Y/N worked his fingers in and out of Kyle quickly, almost frantically trying to get him loose enough to take his cock. Kyle shuddered when Y/N hit his prostate, an almost croaking sound leaving his pursed lips. Y/N took notice and set an unrelenting, brutal pace on the spot. Kyle bit his lip to quiet himself.

“Mggh, oh my god,” he whined, balling his hands into fists. “Y/N, please!”

He furrowed his eyebrows and clenched his eyes shut tight as Y/N added a third finger, slowing for only a moment to allow Kyle to adjust before he resumed his fast pace.

Kyle’s biceps flexed from pulling at his restraints. His stomach tensed and his legs squeezed around Y/N’s body. The amount of feeling happening was altogether too much, but it was also just right.

Y/N suddenly removed his fingers and grabbed the bottle of lube, pouring some into his palm before slicking up his dick. He held Kyle’s hip in one hand and the base of his cock in the other, before he gently pressed the head to Kyle’s hole.

It took all his strength not to immediately bottom out once he had pushed his tip inside. He was hot and wet and perfect, it made him want to take all of him in that moment.

Kyle’s jaw hung open slightly, his eyes glued to Y/N’s concentrated face.

When Y/N finally bottomed out, he looked up, being met with Kyle’s intense gaze. He let out a shaky breath before leaning down and kissing him deeply, hands glued to Kyle’s hips.

He began moving slowly, rolling his hips back before pushing back inside gently to test the waters. Kyle moaned before pulling his head back and pressing his forehead to Y/N’s.

“Fuck me like a man.”

Y/N nodded and began a relentless pace, similar to how he stretched him out. Although this time it was more desperate and depraved. Y/N’s goal was to fuck him hard, just like he told him to.

Their bodies were flush, unbelievably close, and yet not enough. Y/N’s balls smacked against Kyle’s arse, a wet sound filling the room as lube and pre-cum dripped down and onto the bed sheets.

“Haah, fuck,” Y/N whimpered. he dug his fingers into the meat of Kyle’s hips and pulled him impossibly closer. “Y’ feel so good baby, mm…”

Kyle shivered and furrowed his eyebrows.

“I’m gonna cum!” he slurred.

“Wait, please,” Y/N begged. “I’m almost there, just wait.”

Kyle whined but nodded, quiet whimpers escaping him as he tried to hold himself steady.

Y/N’s hips stuttered suddenly and his pace faltered. He sat back and grabbed the end of the rod and pulled it out, finally allowing Kyle to cum. Tears welled in his eyes as he did, long streaks of white spilling onto his stomach. Y/N soon followed, filling him up. He slowed to a stop before hanging his head to catch his breath.

Kyle was panting, eyes hazy and body warm. He looked up at Y/N through half-lidded eyes.

“Can we go again?”

[blindmagdalena]

Ruiner

18+ 2.6k incubus!homelander x f!reader. extremely dubious consent, cunnilingus, comeplay/eating, vaginal dp, dirty talk, tail fucking, mild mindbreak, transformation, possessive behavior, breeding kink, marathon fucking, multiple orgasm, tail oral? mild breathplay.

After weeks of exhaustion, no matter how much sleep you get, you wake to a strange visitor in your bed. In a dark and honied voice, he promises you the pleasures found only in eternity.

written for monsterlander mania. check out this illustration by @luckytiggertalia!

For weeks, your nights have been plagued by a strange restlessness. No matter how early you retire to bed, you wake up heavy and groggy. It’s as if you close your eyes for a second, and then instantly wake twelve hours later, as unrested as ever. By the time you go to bed tonight, you’re nearly in a state of delirium, collapsing atop the covers without bothering to change your clothes.

The sun hasn’t set yet, but your eyes are too heavy to stay awake. Your whole body aches in misery.

“Please, just one… One good night,” you plead, bordering on tears as you curl up, nuzzling into your pillow. You fall asleep almost instantly–as you always do–and pray to anyone or anything willing to listen that this time, you actually rest.

You’re not sure what time it is when you wake. Strangely, it’s still dark out. You can’t remember the last time you woke before the sun rose, too exhausted to imagine it. Your head lolls from one side to the other, seeking out the LED glow of your clock, but you can’t make out the numbers. They’re bleary, and to your misery, you’re still heavy with fatigue.

The weight is more than that, though. You don’t just feel heavy, you feel something upon you. In the dark, you can make out a shadow above you, tracing the silhouette with your eyes, which widen as you see two glowing crimson spheres returning your stare.

“Hey you,” the figure above you purrs in a low voice so deliciously warm and sweet, you swear you feel it on your tongue. “Really did a number on you, didn’t I? You’re just so damn… tasty,” the figure coos, leaning down into the dim light of the moon spilling into your room, allowing you to properly see who is speaking to you.

You see strong features. Pronounced cheekbones, a broad, flat nose bridge, and the second the light hits them, those eerie red eyes shift into a handsome endless blue. His head is topped with a clean sweep of golden blonde hair, and when he tilts it, you see the distinct curve of long, twisting black horns jutting out on either side of it. You feel a scream build in your lungs, but it stays there, tight and unescaping in your chest. You realize you can’t move. You can’t speak.

“But I can admit when I’ve gone overboard, okay? And since you’ve been so good to me, I’m gonna be good to you,” he tells you, dragging a single finger down the line of your throat. It’s clawed, you realize belatedly, and you hear it cut through your clothing as easily as shears through paper.

You try desperately to choke out something, say anything, but it’s as if your throat is being held in an invisible vice lock. You’re shocked you can breathe.

“Shshshhhh,” he hushes, warm hands pulling the shreds of clothing from your body. You know your room is cold, but all you can feel is the heat rolling from the body atop yours like a burning hearth given flesh.

“Relax. It’s me. And we’ve had so much fun together, you and I,” he says, leaning down to brush his lips over yours. The contact sparks like a shock of electricity, making you gasp. With that jolt comes a flash of images one after another, the blurry edges of them falling somewhere between memories and dreams only half remembered.

You’ve been here before, felt the lick of this heat against your skin. Your own moans echo in your ears like a cacophony of overlapping instances of self. Every inch of your skin feels hot, like you’ve just been submerged in a scorching bath. Flashes of nights spent in the throes of ecstasy assault your mind, and at the center of it all, a pair of lucent rubied eyes.

“That’s it, see now. See how you’ve been mine all along,” he murmurs, lips brushing the hollow of your throat. His tongue drags a hot trail down your chest, dipping to the side, where he sucks a mark into the swell of your right breast. He pulls away with a soft pop, and kisses his way to your nipple. This time, you can feel the inhuman length of his tongue coiling around the sensitive hard bud like a serpent before you feel the pull of his lips sucking at you.

He takes your opposite breast in his clawed hand and massages it with his palm, coaxing more noises from you, more exquisite pleasure. The miasma of his presence is so overwhelming, you can feel it in the weight of the air. Every breath you take feels heavy in your lungs.

Bit by bit every drop of panic drains from you, replaced by sweltering shameless enjoyment. The more you allow it, the better his hands feel. His mouth feels best of all, a wicked thing that makes your skin feel so good it burns.

He uses his knees to spread your legs, and that’s when you feel the press of something thick between your thighs, dragging up the slick mess he’s made of you, pressing against your lightly throbbing clit. It moves strangely, with articulate deftness that defies all expectation. You jolt, a moan escaping you. “What is that?” You rasp, unsure of when you became able to speak again.

“Me,” he tells you, and the feeling disappears. A second later, you see an appendage rise up behind him. A tail, you realize. It’s as black as his horns, long and ridged on the top. The bottom reminds you of the belly of a snake, with smooth scales that layer seamlessly down. You watch, transfixed, as he brings it to his lips and opens wide, taking it into his mouth. You see just a flash of gleaming, sharp fangs. When the tail pulls away, it’s coated in a shiny, thick layer of saliva. 

It disappears, and you feel the pressure of it at your pussy once more, slowly and painlessly easing you open.You feel each and every bump as it slips into you, firm but malleable. You writhe, letting out a jagged moan. You realize you can move when you reflexively grab onto his hair, though the knuckles of your right hand bump his horn. Instinctively, you take hold of his horn, giving it a sharp pull that makes him moan.

He pulls off of your breast with a wet pop, both of which have grown tender under his attention. “More,” he encourages you, tilting his head to tug against your grasp. You comply, taking both of his horns into your hands and pushing his head down, down, down.

“Good, that’s good,” he growls, claws dragging tantalizing lines down your body, the sharpness of them drawing faint welts on your skin. He grabs your thighs and leans in to tongue your aching clit, pulling another moan from you. “Take, sweetheart. Take as much as you want. Take like I take from you,” he says, words like an inferno breathed on the most sensitive part of you.

You swear you can feel strength returning to your body. Your eyes no longer burn with desire for sleep. For the first time in weeks, you truly feel awake again.

His tail pushes deeper inside you while his impossibly long tongue draws figure-eights over your clit. You throw your head back and yank on his horns, back arching. You bounce your hips, fucking yourself on his tail while grinding against his tongue. He laughs against you, humming in pure delight at the way you hold him in place, shamelessly using him for your mounting pleasure. The vibrations drive you steadily to the brink.

You feel feverish with need, sweat prickling your skin. His mouth feels silky and hot against you while the ridges of his tail make you writhe with every push and pull. You come hard, clenching down on his tail, legs tightening on either side of his head, yanking his horns hard enough that he makes a shuddering noise of pleasure against you.

The euphoria is so intense that your vision turns white, but it doesn’t last. The waves fade out, and you’re left breathing heavily, wanting more.

“More,” you voice immediately, even as your legs shake. He messily licks his lips, swiping your shiny slick and his spit from his chin with his thumb before sucking it into his mouth. “I need more,” you say fervently.

He crawls up the length of your body like a stalking tiger, settling his weight overtop of you. He kisses you, licks the taste of sex and cinnamon into your mouth. His tongue curls around yours, pushing almost to the back of your throat. He breaks from you with a ragged breath. “You’ve kept me so well fed. Now it’s my turn to give you everything,” he vows, reaching down between your bodies. 

Your brows furrow, lips parting on a silent cry as you feel the blunt, wet head of his cock pressing into you just above his tail. He moans, holding you still while he slowly sinks into you. 

“Been so fucking perfect for me. Sweet little cunt, always dripping for me before I even touch you. You want to feel like this forever, don’t you? But why be my pet when you could be my equal, hmm? I can make you like me,” he whispers, punctuating every word with a thrust of his hips that brings him a little deeper each time. “And we’ll eat, fuck and live how we want for all eternity. Tell me that’s what you want.”

You keen, spreading your legs wider in an attempt to adjust to the added girth. You nod eagerly. The last thing you want to do is leave this exquisite agony behind, return to the mundane monotony of your life beyond this burning inferno. 

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he coos, cupping the side of your face. The sharp claw of his thumb drags across your cheek, barely light enough not to break the skin. He rocks his hips gently, alternating those thrusts with the slide of his tail. “Before I have to break you… Tell me that you want me to keep you.”

You grip his shoulders, struggling for breath. You feel so unbelievably full as he fucks you, floating on the overwhelm of sensation, but you’re present enough that his words send a shiver down your spine. “Yes. Yes, I want you to keep me. I want you to be mine forever,” you say, not wanting to lose this again. You don’t want to forget. You don’t want him to stop. You’re addicted to this. To him.

He moans loudly, dipping back down to kiss you. He hikes your legs up around his waist and thrusts in deep, swallowing your answering noises while he picks up a punishing pace, pounding you into the mattress hard enough that the whole bed shakes, headboard slamming against the wall.

“Fucking… tight,” he moans as you get closer to another climax, his voice frayed and eager. “I won’t insult you by stopping when you come. I’m going to fuck you so full of my come, you’re going to taste it,” he growls, hips snapping harder with each word, his tail and his cock fucking you until the tether in you snap, and you’re coming again, dragging your nails up his back while he mercilessly pounds you into the bed. 

He’s just as unrelenting as he promised to be, growling into the crook of your neck. You gasp when he sinks his teeth into your skin, holding you in place and fucking you like an animal until he, too, succumbs to his pleasure, his groan muffled into your flesh while a rush of heat fills your stuffed cunt even fuller.

You’re sure that’s the end of it.

You’re wrong.

He doesn’t stop thrusting. His cock is still hard inside you, heavy balls slapping against your ass with every thrust.

“No breaks for you,” he rasps, lapping at the bite he left at your neck. “This is your only purpose now.” He hauls you hips up, lifts himself up on his knees so that only your upper back and head are left on the bed.

You hear a noise behind him that sounds like tree branches snapping, and two enormous, leathery black wings unfurl from his back. His eyes glow like burning coals in the darkness. You give a shuddering moan as his tail slides out of you, reappearing over his shoulder.

He brings it right to your lips.

“Open,” he murmurs. You do, parting your lips and welcoming the silky slide of his tail on your tongue. He tastes like salt, sex and warm spices. Your eyelids flutter as you suck every drop, moving your tongue greedily over the tip of it. He bows his head back down against your shoulder, moaning in your ear so hungrily that you realize it must feel good for him. You suck harder, and sure enough, he shudders, holding your hips while he fucks you faster.

“Ffffuck, you’re so fucking good for me. Take me so good. Perfect pussy for breeding. Won’t spill a fucking drop, will you?” His rhythm never falters despite how ruined his own voice sounds. He pushes his tail deeper into your mouth, fucks your throat the same way he fucks your cunt, making it hard to breathe.

He comes again, dragging you over the threshold with that same intense rush of liquid heat. Your whole body trembles, and you’re lightheaded from lack of oxygen. His tail slips from your lips only to be replaced by his thumb hooking the corner of your mouth. He peers inside, and his lips split into a wicked grin. “Good girl,” he rumbles, prying your mouth open wider, inspecting your teeth. Confused, you roll your tongue along your top teeth, and only then do you understand.

You have fangs.

Before you can express your disbelief, he kisses you again, rocking against you in comparatively leisurely thrusts, luxuriating in the soaking wet mess he’s made of your cunt. “Just a little more, sweetheart, and you’ll be just like me. You and me? We’re gonna eat this whole fucking world alive.”

You lose track of how much time goes by. You lose track of how many times you come. How many times he comes. He fucks you until your pussy is raw and your voice hoarse. He kisses, licks and bites his way over every inch of you. It’s as if he desperately wants to devour you, and the only thing holding him back is his promise to keep you. 

You don’t have a single thought left in your head other than taking his cock deeper, feeling more of him, tasting more of him. You’re so cum-drunk it’s made you stupid, focused only on the pleasure he has to offer you. It should hurt, you think, and yet all you feel is resplendent euphoria.

He changes you. You grow more than fangs; your nails turn to claws, and you can feel the weight of horns on your skull. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he moans, coming inside you again with a shuddering moan. You feel his tail twist around yours.

“So fucking perfect. I love you, I love you, I love you,” he chants deliriously, adjusting your body against his own as he starts to thrust again.

The sun never does rise. You’re not sure that it ever will.

You don’t care, though. Not so long as you’re his, and he’s yours.

[onismdaydream]

when it comes to you, leon can't say no. it's just not something that he's capable of. maybe it's the way your eyes catch the light, making them seem even bigger and more vulnerable than usual. maybe it's the way your lower lip juts out the slightest amount, the smallest pout forming and pulling at his heartstrings. maybe it's the way you try to contain your excitement when he does agree, but he can see the smile and hear the giggles you try to hide. whatever the reason, he finds himself doing whatever it is you ask of him.

and that's how he ended up here, his face pressed against the mattress and his ass in the air - one of his favorite positions for you - as you curled yourself along his spine, your finger circling his rim. the initial contact made him jump, the cold lube feeling so foreign on his own body. it wasn't the first time he would be fingered, but that was when he was young and in college and it was his own hand. this is completely different.

this is you. its your small hand resting on his hip, your breath dancing along the shell of his ear as you praise him, your chest pressed against his back, your finger slowly pushing past the tight ring of muscle.

he lets out a groan, the tension easing out of his body as you whisper encouragement. you eventually get him to relax enough - with the help of a generous amount of lube and spit - to have two fingers sliding in and out, in and out. a nice rhythm begins to build up, and you carefully snake your other hand around his waist to grab his throbbing shaft. the head is already so messy, his precum dripping down onto the sheets below.

he's noisier like this, not so focused on bringing you pleasure and instead allowing himself to enjoy this feeling. gasps and grunts leave his mouth, almost as if he can't seem to catch a breath, his lungs constantly pushing out sounds as he struggles to not come undone by your hands on him. tears prick at his eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment, teetering on the edge of too much and still not enough. but your touch is divine, your hushed words beguiling.

he could never say no to you. so when you ask him, your voice so pretty and sweet, to let go for you, he does. the stimulation from your fingers pressing on his prostate and your hand wrapped around his cock proves to be too much for him to handle. he cums with a broken sob, your name on his lips as his body shakes from the intensity of it all.

you kiss his shoulder, whispering praises and declarations of love into his skin. and as his mind begins to clear a bit, your hands now rubbing at his sides as you hum softly, he doesn't seem to mind that fact.

[lycheeloving]

ANOTHER MULTIVERSE FIC because I can't stop myself, apparently. An injustice!Superman one, this time. I imagine you were a small-time hero/vigilante in this one, so Superman knew (and liked) you before he turned bad, but you weren't super close, before.

-You wake up in an unfamiliar room, tied to a chair, not knowing how you got there. Kal doesn't ever let you leave the fortress. But you don't know how anyone else could have gotten in to take you here, wherever here is. Maybe it was Kal? But why would he do that?

-You spot a woman tied up in another chair next to you, it seems like she also just woke up. She reminds you of someone, but you can't remember who exactly... You want to ask her if she knows more about what's going on, when you realize you're both gagged. Shit. You can't even communicate with her!

-A man comes in, rambling something about how he's glad you're finally awake and about his plan finally taking shape. You feel like you should know this guy, but can't quite put a finger on it...

-Being unsure if you know who he is, as you're "not from here", he introduces himself. He's Lex Luthor.

-Wait. Lex Luthor? The Lex Luthor? The dead one, who was killed by Superman? Is this a prank? Because if so, it isn't funny at all. And quite dangerous for everyone involved.

-Luthor (if that is his real name) then focuses on the woman next to you. He addresses her as "Mrs. Lane".

-Lane as in Lois Lane? Like, Lois Lane from the Daily Planet? Clark Kent's, Superman's wife? Now you know something is extremely wrong. She's dead, too, and everyone knows not to mention her name unless they want to face Superman's wrath... You make a few muffled sounds beneath your gag, itching to ask about just what is going on here.

-Luthor says he's going to explain everything, don't be so impatient! He has a machine that can open portals to parallel universes, which is how he got you here. His plan includes kidnapping the person that is most important to Superman in his own universe (Lois Lane), the person most important to Superman in a second universe (You!) and then making the Supermen fight each other by threatening your lives. The only way to save you is if one Superman dies. This room is Superman proof, he can't hear or see anything that's happening in here, so they can't just swoop in and save you. After the fight, he's going to let the winning Superman enter this room, promising him that he can rescue Lois or you. Except not really, because he's going to try to kill the winner too, because that should be easier after he just fought another Superman, right? He hasn't opened a portal to let the Superman from your universe know about how he can save you, yet. He closed the portal he got you through immediately after kidnapping you, so he had more time to prepare everything. How he found you? Something about being able to detect kryptonian dna residue on you. And you were in Superman's fortress. Easy to combine that you must be important to him.

-That's... actually not a terrible plan! Sure, it might not work out exactly the way that Luthor is planning, but beating Superman with Superman is a great idea! Actually it'd be great if Luthor got a third one here. Two Supermen should definitely be able to defeat one Superman, right? Unfortunately you can't communicate any of this through your gag. Damn, you'd love to help him improve his plan...

-You wonder if he chose your universe completely randomly, or if he chose an evil Superman on purpose. You don't think he did, he didn't mention the regime with one word, and if it existed in this universe he wouldn't be working on this stupid plan. And Lois wouldn't be alive, probably.

-Before you can let your thoughts spiral even more, Luthor falls over. Huh? Is he unconscious? You spot Batman coming towards you. Ah. That explains that, then. Man, you haven't seen Batman in such a long time...

-"Are you two alright?" He quickly cuts through the ropes tying you to the chairs, freeing you. "Good thing you used your bat emergency-signal, Lois. I was able to get to you before Superman could fall for Luthor's trap." Wait, why would Lois contact Batman? Oh, right, sometimes you forget that he and Superman used to be friends, so obviously his wife would trust him too.

-He takes off both of your gags and then turns to you. "We figured out you're from a parallel universe, but don't worry, Nightwing is currently working on a way to get in contact with the Superman from your dimension, so-"

-"NO!", you scream, making Batman look at you in confusion. You quickly tell him to contact Nightwing, to make him stop trying to open a portal or god forbid, contact Kal!! Noticing the urgency in your voice, Batman quickly complies and lets Nightwing know to stop what he's doing, before asking you to elaborate. Phew! The last thing you need is an angry Superman wreaking havoc in a second universe.

-You start explaining to Batman about how your Superman started changing for the worse after Lois died (sparing the details, as she's kind of sitting right next to you), started to get darker, kill villains, everyone who did something bad, people who disagreed with him. Other heroes, even. People he used to be friends with. How everyone who didn't agree with him and join his regime, including you and Batman, had to go into hiding, trying to find a way to stop him. Clark, no KAL-EL found you at some point, but instead of killing you, he unexpectedly took you, basically imprisoned you. Kept you like a pet who's not smart enough to make their own decisions. (You never even knew he liked you like that at all, before that. Sure, he was always nice to you, but he had Lois!)

-Lois seems visibly shocked, whereas Batman just listens to you stoically. "All this to say, it's good to see you alive, Lois!" You smile weakly. She tries to smile back, but before she can respond, Batman cuts her off. "We should leave this place. I doubt it's very safe here. We should return to the Batcave, think of a plan." You spare one last glance at Luthor, who's still lying on the floor (Are we just going to leave him here? Huh. Ok.), then follow Batman outside.

-As soon as you're out of the building, something rushes past you. "Lois! Are you ok? Did he hurt you?" Not something. Someone. You try not to flinch as he fusses over her, while she reassures him that she's fine multiple times.

-After he's convinced she's not hurt, he turns to you with a gentle smile. "Hello! So you're close to the Superman in another dimension, then?" As he takes a step towards you, you instinctively take a step back towards Batman. Clark frowns at him quizzically. It's funny, he almost looks like a confused puppy. You would smile if you didn't know that this is all a facade to distract from his god-like, destructive powers.

-"Turns out the other version of you is some kind of evil dictator." Well, leave it to Batman to get straight to the point. Clark opens and closes his mouth a few times, thinking about what to say. "Well, I can assure you that I'm not like the Superman you know. I promise you, I'm a good person! At least I try my best to be one. You don't have to be scared." His voice is getting increasingly gentle, trying to reassure you.

-"Oh yeah? That's exactly what the Superman from my dimension would have said, before..." You don't mention his wife's death, not wanting to anger him. "The same thing could happen to you. You might be nice now, but who knows what the future holds?" As you're saying this, you slowly move slightly behind Batman. Just in case. He should have some kryptonite on him, right?

-Superman just frowns harder, then turns to Lois. "We should go home." He picks her up and turns to Batman. "Contact me as soon as you have plans for... handling the other me." With that, he takes off.

-Batman ushers you into the Batmobile, where Nightwing (another ghost, to you) is already waiting. You keep turning to look at him during the drive to the Batcave, while Bruce explains the situation to him. If they notice your weird looks, they don't mention it.

-You allow yourself to feel some hope. Maybe you can contact your Bruce? Help him out! Send a few still good Supermen! Your head is spinning with ideas, and you're sure Batman can come up with even better ones. You can't help but smile, your nightmare might finally be over...

[theghostinyourwalls]

Cake

William Afton x Wife!Reader

Tags: Smut, unprotected sex, food play if you squint, fluff, slight dubcon, daddy kink, pet names, praise kink, fingering, kissing, romance

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY GUYS!! This is my first official fanfic on tumblr hope you guys enjoy it <3

It was Valentine’s Day and the house was filled with the sweet scent of freshly baked goods. The clock on the wall showed that William would be home soon. You spent the majority of the day baking cookies, tarts, and cake to surprise him. Just as you finished assorting the sweets into a beautiful display, the door was swung open and promptly slammed closed. The sudden loud noise made you jump.

“William?” You called out for your husband, but there was no answer. A small shiver of fear ran down your spine. He usually responded to you when he’d get home. “William?” You called out again, this time turning around to search for him. A small yelp leaves your lips as you come face to face with the man. “Jesus Christ! You scared me!” You clutched your chest as your heartbeat returned to normal.

He still hadn’t said anything. His face was almost completely emotionless. His eyes were dark, his shoulders ridged. He looked stressed, tired, hungry even.

“Honey, is everything okay?” You asked, concern etched onto your face.

Instead of answering, he slowly approached you. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer. He kissed the top of your head before pulling your face up to his. His lips lightly brushed over your own before you finally leaned in and kissed him. The kiss was gentle and soft. His hands began to travel lower as he slid them over your ass and lightly squeezed. It made you gasp against his mouth, which he took to his advantage as he slipped his tongue inside, tasting you. The sweet innocent kiss quickly turned into shameless desire as he pulled your body even closer. His hard length pressed against your stomach as he continued to kiss you.

You pulled away from him, breaking the kiss. He looked at you, his eyes were heavy with lust. “I need you,” he panted. He spun you around so that he was behind you, trapping you against the counter. His hands found their way underneath your skirt. His fingers traced the waistband of your panties before dipping them inside.

“Wait! Not yet!” You squeaked out as he made contact with your center. He groaned into your neck as he felt how wet you already were for him. “William!” You tried to sound stern, but ultimately failed. He ignored your pleas as he gathered your slick onto his fingers. He teasingly rubbed circles over your clit and watched as you tried to resist him. You couldn’t help but gasp as he pushed his finger into your pussy.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. Just let me have this,” he whispered into the crook of your neck, his finger sliding in and out of you. He added a second one, his ring finger. The cool sensation of his wedding ring against your wet heat made you shudder. He began to thrust them into you at a steady pace with his palm pressed against your clit. The warmth in your abdomen began to intensify as he brushed his fingertips against that spot deep inside you. He quickened the pace of his fingers along with the pressure against your clit, making you whine and buck your hips against his hand. The pressure in your abdomen came to a peak surprisingly fast. Your body shuddered, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you. His fingers continued to move inside you as you rode out your high. “That’s it. You're such a good girl for me,” his speech was slightly slurred as he ran his lips along my neck, leaving behind a path of kisses and hickeys.

There was a brief moment of silence as he retracted his hand from you. The only sounds that could be heard were your soft pants as you caught your breath and William beginning to undo his trousers. You realized what was going to happen and you tried to deter him. “Wait, William we were supposed to- '' You choked on your words as his cock pressed against your ass cheek.

“Bunny, you know I can’t stop now. I need to feel you around me,” He almost sounded apologetic as he rutted against you in desperation. Before you could protest any further he pulled your panties to the side and aligned himself at your entrance. “Besides, I know you love it when Daddy stretches you open with his cock.” With that he slowly pushes into you. He only made it halfway in when you clenched down on his cock, your walls quivering around his shaft. “It’s okay baby, you can handle it,” he whispered, his voice was low and soothing. You tried to relax your overstimulated muscles and allow him to push deeper into you. With one more thrust of his hips he bottomed out. He was so deep that you could feel him pressed against your cervix. Small muffled groans and gasps escaped William’s mouth as he felt you completely surround him.

Slowly, he withdrew from you only to thrust back into your tightness. His pace was slow at first as he took his time fucking you. Your back arched against him as he continued to hit that sweet spot over and over again. It wasn’t enough to make you cum though, you both knew it. He held your jaw in his hand, pulling you to look back up at him. “You want me to fuck you like the good little girl you are?” You nodded eagerly at his proposition. “Then show me how much you want it.” You leaned further over the counter and pulled your skirt up to give him a proper view of what exactly he was doing to you.

“Please, can't you see how wet I am for you. I need you to fuck me harder, Daddy please. I can’t take it anymore, I need to cum on your cock.” With a satisfied hum of approval he began to fuck into you faster. His hips slapped against your ass as he harshly thrusted into your tight cunt. His hand snaked around to your front, finding your clit. He teased the sensitive nub, tracing light circles around it. Your body writhed at the feather light touch as you tried to push back against his hand, craving more friction. He gave into your desire for more and placed his fingers on either side of your clit, roughly rubbing them against you. He pushed your upper body down towards the counter, where the cake you baked earlier sat. You tried to push yourself back up, but he easily overpowered you. The buttercream frosting smeared onto your cheek. You normally would’ve been angry at him for ruining your creation, but at that point you couldn’t care less. Your pussy throbbed from his brutal pace and you could feel the tight knot in your abdomen begin to release. You knew he was close too by the way his cock twitched inside you. His cock brushed against your sweet spot one final time before you came. Your pussy tightened around his cock, rhythmically pulsing as white hot pleasure consumed your senses. Your body seized up as you felt the peak of your orgasm. A soft cry of pleasure escaped your mouth as you came on your husband’s cock. He groaned as your walls contracted around him, pulling him in deeper.

“That’s my good girl,” William grunted out in between thrusts. His pants became more and more labored as he sought his own release. You couldn’t help but smile when William, who usually tried to keep his noises contained, let out hiccuped whimpers as he came inside of you. His hot cum filled you to the brim. He stayed inside you for a while just catching his breath and enjoying the warmth of you before pulling you to stand up straight. You leaned back against him for support as he pulled out of you, leaving a small trail of cum that trickled down your thigh. He quickly pushed your panties back into place to try and keep as much of his cum inside you as possible. He tucked himself back into his trousers and spun you around to face him. He looked at the frosting smeared over your face before looking over your shoulder at the mess he made of your cake.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, honey. It was supposed to be a surprise.” You chuckled as you looked at his expression. His face was filled with love and admiration for you.

“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry I ruined the surprise. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He leaned down and kissed you tenderly. He held your face in his hands after breaking away from the kiss. He turned your face slightly and licked some of the frosting off of your cheek. You giggled at the gesture and tried to push him back. “Mm, tastes amazing sweetheart. I think I have an idea.”

“Hm?”

“How about I leave, come back in and you can surprise me just like you wanted to. How’s that sound?”

You laughed at his silly plan, but agreed to it anyway. “Alright, then this never happened okay.”

“It’ll be our little secret.”

[finleycannotdraw]

Goldenheart question. Who do you think proposes? Ballister or Ambrosius?

Bonus on how they would do it? ✌️🌈

OKAY SO. I thought about this for like five minutes. decided something. and then I changed my mind like five times. and then I was like “hmm. fic time”

I know you just asked for my thoughts but I hope you enjoy this!!

Ballister had a plan.

He loved Ambrosius. Of course he did. He’d loved him when they were classmates at the Institute, loved him when they snuck onto the roof at night to talk, loved him when they became knights, and loved him when the wall came down. He’d loved him for as long as he could remember, so of course he loved him when he looked up from his crossword puzzle and saw Ambrosius dancing in the kitchen, wearing a pair of Ballister’s pajama pants, holding a pancake batter-covered spatula and looking more carefree than he’d looked in months.

He’d marry Ambrosius in a heartbeat. He’d get on a train right then and elope with him if he asked, but he thought his partner deserved something bigger, something romantic, something grand and joyful after all of the stress and responsibility he’d been shouldering since the Director’s demise.

Hence, The Plan.

Nimona had been… mostly helpful. Ballister approached her one afternoon, after Ambrosius had left for work, and sat down across from her. Since the three of them had moved into an apartment together, Nimona had gotten much more comfortable relaxing, which warmed Ballister’s heart.

“What’s up, boss?”

“I want to ask Ambrosius—” he began, and Nimona sat up straight, immediately invested.

“To marry you?” she exclaimed. “Yes. Do it. Why haven’t you done it already.”

Ballister blinked. “I thought you’d be more hesitant about this,” he said slowly. “You used to hate him.”

Nimona waved her hand dismissively. “Ehhh. The past is the past, and all that jazz. Speaking of jazz—”

“No.”

“Ugh, whatever. You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I didn’t need to.”

“You’re horrible. Anyway, I hated him when all I knew about him was that he cut off your arm. That was before I’d lived with you guys for a year. And it would be pretty hypocritical of me not to be open to changing my opinions about somebody. He makes you happy. You should totally marry him.”

Ballister smiled. “Thank you, Nimona.”

She scoffed affectionately. “Sure, boss.”

And a plan—namely, The Plan, which was the whole point—formed.

Nimona and Ballister flew all over the city looking for parks and possible activities, such as restaurants or shows. Most people had gotten fairly used to the pair of them flying around, Nimona sprouting wings and carrying Ballister above the streets, so they didn’t worry about staying out of sight.

If Ambrosius noticed or thought it was suspicious that Nimona and Ballister constantly went out together and didn’t talk to him about any of it, he didn’t comment. The three of them still had their movie nights and game nights, and Nimona and Ambrosius still had their terrifyingly intense card games (War, Go Fish, Crazy Eights, and several games Ballister had never heard of) that Ballister was forbidden from joining, so altogether not much had changed.

One thing that did change, though, was how often he paused, watched Ambrosius do something completely ordinary, and thought ‘I want to marry this man.’ It happened more and more with each passing day, until Ballister very nearly proposed to him when he walked into the apartment and found Ambrosius standing with his feet on two separate chairs, about three feet apart, holding a collection of colorful paper streamers above his head while Nimona, in the form of a small monkey, perched on the top of his head and put them in place on the wall.

Ballister stared at them for a long moment before he said, very confusedly: “There wasn’t a more efficient way to do this?”

Ambrosius and Nimona turned at the same time, both looking quite delighted despite their precarious position atop the chairs.

“We’re just mixing it up!” they both replied. Ballister looked around. The living room was covered in party decorations and newspaper, and Ballister thought he’d never seen more glitter in his life. He pictured Ambrosius buying a basket full of glitter for whatever party Nimona was planning on throwing, and wouldn’t have been surprised if his heart actually melted.

“What’s the occasion?” he asked.

“I asked Nimona when her birthday was,” Ambrosius explained. “She said she didn’t have one.”

“And if I do, I don’t remember when it is,” Nimona added. Ambrosius threw his hands out to the sides in an emphasizing gesture.

“Which means she’s never had a birthday party,” he continued. “So we decided that today’s her birthday and we’re having a party.”

“Which is just going to be like a normal night except with decorations,” Nimona said. “The glitter was Goldilocks’ idea.”

Ballister raised his eyebrows, and Ambrosius shrugged unabashedly, then turned back to finish putting up the streamers.

Marry me, Ballister thought.

Within the next week, he had everything figured out. He’d looked at the weather for the next few days, planned where they’d go and when, and had even bought a ring, which he’d hidden in his extra pair of running shoes and shoved under the bed. If Ambrosius noticed that Ballister seemed extra nervous or more likely to become agitated if he spent too long in the bedroom by himself, he didn’t comment.

So yes. Ballister had a plan, and it was much more concrete than ‘something something something, we win’. He didn’t have a script, but he had just about everything else. Nothing could possibly get in his way now.

Or so he thought.

One night—there was nothing particularly special about it; they’d had dinner with Nimona, danced and laughed while cleaning the kitchen, and kissed while getting ready for bed—Ballister and Ambrosius were snuggled up together under their blankets. Ballister’s prosthetic arm was hanging from its charger on the wall, so he couldn’t hold Ambrosius as close as he would’ve liked, but the blond knight was lying with his head on Ballister’s shoulder, which gave him room to wrap his left arm around his partner’s back.

Ambrosius moved to tangle his legs with Ballister’s and gave his middle a squeeze, causing Ballister to smile up at the dark ceiling. If he paid attention, he could hear quiet music through the walls from Nimona’s room, and the moon was shining brightly through the window. Ballister carded his fingers through Ambrosius’ hair and breathed deeply.

Ambrosius, after several minutes, pushed himself up onto his elbow so that he could see Ballister’s face. Ballister’s arm slid naturally to rest around his waist, and he wished he had his prosthetic so that he could tap Ambrosius on the nose. Whenever he did so, Ambrosius’ face would scrunch up in the most adorable way possible, and Ballister had no choice but to kiss him.

“Hey,” Ambrosius whispered, as though Ballister hadn’t already been giving him his full attention.

“Hi,” he said in the same quiet tone, and matched Ambrosius’ answering smile. They bumped their noses together and giggled, and Ambrosius flopped to the side, landing on his own pillow. Ballister freed his arm and laced their fingers together, and Ambrosius brought their joined hands to his lips, then rested them on his chest and stroked Ballister’s hand with his thumb.

“Bal?” he said, tilting his head to the side to look into Ballister’s eyes, which he was quite honestly struggling to keep open.

“Hm?”

“Will you marry me?” Ambrosius asked softly, simply, his gaze full of love, exactly the way Ballister had been fighting the urge to ask him for weeks.

“Oh, come on!” he exclaimed, and got out of bed to grab the ring box from his shoe, forgetting that Ambrosius had no idea what he was doing until he sat up, looking worried.

“Bal?” he said again, this time much more guarded. “I’m sorry, what—”

“I was going to propose to you!” Ballister interrupted, opened the box, and shoved it towards his gobsmacked partner, who stared at it in utter shock before looking back to Ballister’s eyes. “I had a plan! And it wasn’t ‘something something something, we win’!”

Ambrosius’ eyes were shiny. “Was it more like, ‘something something something, marry me?’”

Ballister laughed surprisedly and leaned over to plant a kiss on Ambrosius’ lips. “Yes,” he said. “Well, no. I didn’t have a speech.”

“Hence the something-something-something,” Ambrosius teased. “You know, you never answered my—”

“Yes, good Gloreth, yes, I’ll marry you,” Ballister interrupted again. “Though I think you could’ve inferred that from learning that I was going to ask you the same question.”

Ambrosius laughed tearfully, and Ballister kissed him again.

“I’m not taking your last name, though,” he added moments later. “As funny as it is.”

“Nimona would kill you,” Ambrosius agreed. “So would I, probably. I don’t want to keep my last name either. It made for some good jokes, but other than that—”

“Well, Boldheart is nice, but it wasn’t my birth name. You know the Queen gave it to me at the ceremony because somebody—probably the Director—said that Blackheart sounded too dark for a knight?”

“Right,” Ambrosius mused. “What should we do, then?”

“We could combine our last names,” Ballister suggested. “We could be Ambrosius and Ballister—”

“Goldenheart,” Ambrosius finished, and wrapped his arms around Ballister, shaking with laughter, tears, and joy. “I love it.”

“I love you,” Ballister told him, and there was very little talking for the rest of the night.

When morning came, they headed into the kitchen in their pajamas and found Nimona already up, sitting at the table with her headphones on. She appeared to be drawing—likely another action scene with herself as a large animal with Ballister and/or Ambrosius as her murderous accomplice—and didn’t look up as they entered.

“Morning, Nim,” Ambrosius said as he made his way to the coffee machine.

“Goldilocks.” She acknowledged him with a nod, then raised her eyebrows. “Sleep well?”

Ballister held his crossword puzzle up and hid his face behind it while Ambrosius nearly dropped the coffee pot. They both knew that Nimona was over a thousand years old and there was probably very little she hadn’t seen, and even less she wasn’t aware of, but she was so good at acting like a teenager that it was quite easy to forget. She watched their awkward reactions and snickered, but her eyes widened as her attention zeroed in on something on or beside Ambrosius’ hand.

“So, who snapped first?” she asked pleasantly, a wide grin forming on her face.

“Me,” Ambrosius admitted without turning around. “Wait. Who snapped first? You knew he was planning—”

“You knew he was—” Ballister began too, and they both stopped and stared at each other.

Nimona just burst out laughing.