#because eris is hot

[surielstea]

Love and Lust

Based on this request.

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eris and Reader need to consummate after their public mating ceremony.

Warnings: smut | minors dni | 18+ content | p in v | fingering | oral (f receiving) | overstimulation | multiple orgasms | there’s so many, this is filth

3.1k words

"Goodnight!" I shout to the guests as Eris drags me to our bedroom. They reply in a farewell but it's hardly audible because by the time they can get any words out, Eris had winnowed us to the top floor of the Forest house, tired of walking through the large sprawling complex.

I giggle as he pulls me closer, stumbling on my heels as I crash into his chest.

We had just had our public mating ceremony, there was a magical black ribbon twined around our intertwined hands that wouldn't untangle until after our mating was consummated, which left me connected to him. I looked up at him with a wild grin, the expression uncontrollable because I was overwhelmed with joy. "What's got you smiling like that?" He looks down at me with a raised brow and I bite my bottom lip slightly, wrapping my arm around the back of his neck. "I'm just happy," I shake my head in incredulity, rising onto my toes and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Fear settles deep in my stomach and I back away slightly, my smile faltering. "Are you?" My brows crease. "Happy?" I tilt my head anxiously. His grip tightens on my hand and he releases a small laugh in pure disbelief. "Of course I'm happy." He pulls me towards him yet again, snaking his free hand around my waist and my grin returns. "I don't think I've ever been more happy." He spoke solemnly, his fingertips warm me despite the fabric of my gown being a barrier.

I give him a saddened smile at the bittersweet sentiment. "You say it like it's a bad thing," I murmur, dragging my fingers through the Heir's russet hair. "Everything that's made me happy has been taken from me." He mumbled and a frown formed on my lips. "No one's going to hurt me," I promise, stressing my words so he knows it's the truth. "No one's going to take me either, I'm all yours." I hum, pecking his frown then fall back down my heels. "I know," He sighs, resting his forehead against mine, pressing a yearning kiss to my lips before backing away. "It's just— I can remember my father burning all my books while he made me watch," He swallows. "I can't shake the idea of him doing something similar to you." His voice shakes and my heart nearly shatters at the sound. "He's not here anymore," My hand comes to his cheek. "He can't hurt me, or you," I reassure. "I know." He repeats, this time with a nod.

I rise onto my toes again and press a soft kiss onto his lips, my heart aching as his hand wraps tighter around me as if he's afraid that I might disappear. His lips slot over my mind hungrily, not in any sensuous manner but rather just to get closer, to consume me entirely so no one could harm me without cutting him open first.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you," I murmur against his lips, and a smile curves along them. "You didn't have to do anything, my pretty girl." He shakes his head and my arm comes back around his neck, pulling him closer as I drag him toward the bed until the backs of my thighs hit the mattress.

I smile up at him dreamily as I sit down and pull him down beside me with our connected hands. He shifts up to the pillows and I'm forced to follow, my chin coming to rest in the crook of his shoulder as I lay on his chest. His hand came to my hair, dragging his fingers through it as I wrapped an arm around his middle and hugged him close. "I love you," I mutter and he sighs softly at the three little words he's been waiting his whole life to hear. I prop my chin up on his collarbone to look at him. "I love you too." He says without hesitation, hand coming to tuck a piece of hair behind my pointed ear.

I grin and lean in, softly pressing our lips together in a senseless daze.

He pulls me closer, hand coming to my cheek so he can slip his tongue into my mouth, and have me deeper, now determined to get the black ribbon untied.

His hand trails along my waist, gripping me tightly and pulling me over him so I straddle his hips. I smile at the new position, my free hand sifts through his soft, red hair. While his hand works at the ties of my dress.

I grin wildly once he gets every clasp undone. I break the kiss and move back so he can pull the top off of me while I thrash the skirts off, leaving me bare in my undergarments only, the lacy kind I knew made him feral. Something entirely male shone in his eyes at the sight of the white lace doing little to cover my most sacred areas.

He flips us over with fervor, pressing me between his chest and the mattress. He kisses me from my jaw down to my collarbone while I rush to get his shirt unbuttoned.

Once I manage to get to the bottom he shucks it off, revealing his toned abdomen, and his defined arms that made me throb. My hand immediately comes up to them, nails digging into the muscle when he sucks and bites at a particularly sensitive area, soothing it with the warmth of his tongue when he drags a lick along it.

I whine out, legs clenching together in pure need of him. I hadn't been this desperate since our mating bond clicked, and with the way Eris' hand was traveling every bare inch of skin it could find— it appeared the same was true for him as well.

"Eris, I want you inside," I whimper, brows creased as I grind into my thighs but it's no use, no comparison when it comes to how he fucks me.

"Want what inside?" He hums into my neck. "My fingers?" Something at my side burns, but in an oddly pleasurable way— pure heat emitting from his fingertips that left me contracting at the power he held. "My tongue?" He asks, licking a soothing stripe down the column of my throat hungrily. "Your cock." I murmur greedily. "Oh baby," He tuts in a pitying tone. "We've got to stretch you out first don't we?" He hums and I thickly swallow before nodding. "Right, so fingers," That burning sensation returns. "Or tongue?" He arches a brow and my stomach does backflips. "Both," I whine, and something sinister flashes in his eyes. "Greedy girl," He leans down and presses a loving kiss to my lips, then dips down to my collarbone, down the valley of my breasts to my navel— until he's finally hovering right above where I want him.

My legs jolt in utter need and he just stares, watches as my own body betrays me all because it yearns for him. "Eris," I cry out and as soon as I start begging, his two fingers dip beneath my panty line and he drags the lacy thing down my thighs, revealing my arousal, already glistening on my thighs. I clench around nothing as the cold air breezes against my heat.

He shamelessly watches as I roll my hips upward eagerly.

My brows twitch together as two of his long, thick fingers drag through my silken folds. I whine out his name, hand coming to his hair and tugging at his locks whenever his touch got teasingly close to my aching entrance.

I look down at him, making eye contact as he dips lower and his tongue attaches right over my clit. A moan releases from my parted lips, his amber eyes glow at the sound and he sucks on the sensitive part harder. I grind my hips up onto his face, pulling his hair.

His fingers go lower, circling my core without caution. "Er—" I struggle to get out his entire name, because just as I choose to speak, two of his lengthy fingers push into my pulsing hole, soliciting uncontrollable moans from the base of my throat.

"That's it, Fawn," His deep voice reverberates through my core, the vibrations darting through my cunt. "Fuck," I mumble breathlessly as his fingers work like magic, curling in the loveliest of places, scissoring and toying with the bundle of nerves deep inside of me.

His tongue rolls through my puffy clit, dragging chains of mewls from me. My back arches up and he nips at my reddened clit for moving and I scream, he quickly licks over it soothingly, but that burn remains and only had me hurdling closer to that edge.

"Eris," I sigh out, still staring down at him as he feasted on me, taking every drop of my arousal he managed to lap up, his fingers not ceasing for even a moment as he continued his horribly pleasurable ministrations. "Close," Is all I can manage to get out without my voice breaking. "Yeah?" He hums and my brows crease at how perfect he is making me feel. "Mhm," I nod with a passion he recognized well. "Be a good girl and cum on my fingers okay?" He flicks his eyes up to me and I swallow thickly, shakily nodding in reply. He allowed me to grind up against his face, rutting into his sharp nose that flicked against my clit.

I mewled and he nipped at the area— causing my release to catch up to me without warning. My orgasm hit me hard, crashing over me like waves of heat and pure lust. When I came it was his name on my lips, eyes glued shut as I relish in the intensity of every touch.

He continues to pump his thick fingers in and out of me, bringing me down from that high at a leisurely pace.

Once his hand leaves me and I'm deprived of his touch I can feel myself needing another round, that after-orgasm high had me feeling like I was on fire, and I loved it.

"More," I beg.

"More?" He arches his brow.

I nod, eyes glazed over as my lip quivers, the depiction of pure need in my features. "You sure baby?" He drones and I nod hopelessly. The corners of his mouth sharpened and his hand soaked in my juices left my folds, bringing it up to his mouth and licking a long stripe between his fingers. My mouth waters as I stare unabashedly, toes curling at the way his long tongue dips through his fingers. "I'm sure." I rasp out and he removes his hand from his mouth. "Then be good and turn around." He commands in a voice that makes me remember he was the general of armies.

I suppress a whine and do as he says, flipping over onto my front, my knees folded under me as I hiked my ass up for his viewing, our wrapped hands intertwine, his over mine protectively as he slowly grinds the rough marital of his pants into the throbbing apex of my thighs.

"Good, so good for me," He whispers along my spine, shivers running along it at the praise. He removes his pants with a ruffle of clothing, his cock springing out and pressing against my slick. I sob in pure need, he curves over me and his abdomen presses to the small of my back, pressing me lower into a deeper arch, my head burying in the pillows as he aligns himself with me.

I whimper as I feel his tip prod at my slit, rubbing his pre-cum through it, making me drip down his shaft. "Be still baby," He instructs and my entire body locks up, afraid of moving in case he decides to punish me for disobeying. He lets out a teasing laugh, breathy against the shell of my ear. Then he presses into me and my stomach caves to fit nothing but him.

"Fuck," The low moan is muffled by the cloth of the pillow, tears prickling my ears at the foreign stretch. He goes deeper, only halfway, and already brushing against my most sensitive areas. "Eris," I cry as he pulls out only to roll his hips back into me with an articulated control. "You like being a good little girl for me don't you?" He surmises and I whimper. "Mhm," I nod into the pillow. "Yeah, it gets you off doesn't it?" He hums from beside my ear and I swore I was ready to release right then and there. I squeeze around him tighter at the hot feeling rushing through my body. He hisses. "Fuck, you're tight." He grunts out, pulling out and without warning, slamming all the way in, his balls slapping against my ass, his hips snapping to mine, and his cock molding me for him and him only as my walls expand around him like a perfect sleeve as I fit around every inch of him.

I scream into the pillows at the feeling, tears cascading down onto the pillow as he picks up speed in his thrusts, ripping moan and moan from me without caution. My back arches into his powerful body, attempting to feel him deeper. The peeks of my breast press against the sheets, my nipples overtly sensitive as they rub against the mattress while Eris pushes me up it with every forceful thrust, pounding into me from behind like he couldn't get enough.

"Eris— please," I whimper and he nips at the side of my neck in reply. "Want me to stop?" He taunts, knowing my answer because, gods, he was so fucking good at pumping me full of all of him, ramming into every point and stuffing every crevice. I pant as I feel my second release chasing closer, ready to snap at any point now.

"I'm— fuck, so close" I manage to get out and I feel his vicious smile curve his lips against the back of my shoulder.

His speed doesn't relent at my words, continues shoving into me with an unfathomable force. "Still want more?" He asks and I can only nod, dumbly agreeing to whatever he says.

"That's what I thought my fawn." He hums, then does something wicked with his hips that has his base rubbing in my clit. At the feeling I grasp the sheets and convulse around him, breath quickening as a second orgasm tears through me, euphoria rippling along my spine from my core.

But he doesn't cease his movements, if anything, he begins going faster.

I choked out a sob, I didn't think I could take any more. The overstimulation was too much. You buck and writhe at the feeling but still, he doesn't slow. "Eris I can't, it's too much." I cry out and the peppers feather light kisses up my spine. "If it was too much you would've said your safe word already." He muses. "But no, because you enjoy this. Don't you, my greedy girl?" He purrs into my ear and my stomach backflips, because he was right, it was pleasurable and he knew it.

"Say it," He hums. "Say you love being fucked senseless." He demands and I sniffle, the repeated sound of his balls slapping against my ass has slick dripping from my propped-up thighs.  "I love it," I murmur. "Love being stuffed full," I add, hand tightening on his. He somehow pumps into me faster at inhumane rates, the sound of my voice getting him closer to the edge so I give him more, allowing every dirty thought to spill from my sensuous lips.

His hand comes to my lower stomach, pressing me into his hips, then applying the slightest pressure so he can feel himself inside of me, moving in and out because he was so fucking deep. "Eris, ah, feels good," I murmur, fisting the sheets and he presses harder, hitting an entirely new area that leaves me entirely breathless.

My third orgasm of the night approaches and I doubt I'll be able to last another, I need his seed inside of me. Need him, all of him now.

"You close baby?" He asks and I nod fervently. "Good, me too." He hums, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.

"Please Eris, m' so close" I whimper and he presses another kiss to my sweat-slicked skin. "A little bit longer fawn, be good." His fingertips dig into my hip in warning and all I can do is nod, swallowing down my begs.

I clench around him as tight as I can, reveling in how good it felt every time he pulled from my cunt only to same back in, hitting home. My back bows, shoulders tensing as he pulls me apart.

"’Ris," I murmur. "Eris." My sigh is barely audible. "I can't, please." Tears prickle at my eyes. "Gods, I love it when you beg like that." He purrs and I mewl at the intense pressure of his heavy member inside of me, my third orgasm begging to be heard as I do everything in my power to ignore it. His breath becomes irregular and I know he's close as he twitches inside of me. "Fuck," He grinds out through his teeth. "Can I?" I whine and he nods behind me. "Go ahead, baby." He allows and it takes me less than a second to obey his command.

My third release finds me with vehemency, nails digging into my palms and pussy fluttering around his cock as his release injects me full of his seed, spurting out into every groove and crevice, slotting deep inside of me. I didn't want him to pull out, I didn't want the warmth of his seed to leave me.

The ribbon binding our hands snaps and magically unravels but he doesn't let go of my hand for even a moment, in fact, he squeezes it tighter, allowing us a moment to catch our breaths.

He kisses softly along my skin and after a few minutes of peaceful silence, he slowly drags his member from my cunt, earning him a pitiful whine, his release rushes out of me and down my slicked thighs and I clench my legs together, wanting to keep it nestled deep inside of me.

"Eris," I murmur as I slide down onto the bed, allowing my limbs to relax. "I'm here Fawn," He reassures, stroking a hand through my hair and I nod. "I'm tired." I rasp out and he presses a kiss to my forehead. "Let's get you cleaned up, then you can sleep alright?" He hums and I nod dreamily. "Mmkay," I drag out tiredly and he replies with a breathy laugh.

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[lorcandidlucienwill]

What if Nesta decided to destroy the Inner Circle part 8

Nesta left Feyre to rest some time later, leaving Gwyn and Emerie on guard duty. In the heat of Feyre’s labor, Nesta had completely forgotten about the battle still happening, the mask that had still been on her face. She had taken it off some time ago and had stared in shock at the blood and gore coating the hall. The Inner Circle…was dead. Every member. Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Mor, and Amren. Their dead bodies graced the floor. The two half-wraiths, Nuala and Cerridwen, grimaced at their mangled bodies. A few days ago, Nesta would’ve thought it impossible. But she had witnessed the power of herself, of her friends, of Lucien and Eris. Two High Lords’ sons-and the heirs. A Made woman with cauldron-stolen magic. With such power in their midst, it had been possible to win. The most powerful court in the world (and the most evil) had been destroyed. Nesta thought she would feel at least a little regret, but honestly? All Nesta felt was triumphant.

They deserved it. Every last one of them. She had seen the shambles they called a court. Ruling over their small little island within a sea of darkness, letting all those good people suffer as they lived in their deluded utopia that was Velaris.

The only one she felt bad for was Feyre. She had lost all her friends, mean and toxic as they had been. Besides Lucien. Which made Nesta realize Feyre had basically no friends that were her own. All of her friends had been Rhysand’s friends first. It would’ve been the same for Nesta had she joined this toxic court. Maybe they would’ve cut her off from Gwyn and Emerie.

She went to talk to Feyre after a silent dinner heavy with fatigue. Even Eris failed to make a single snide remark. She found Feyre staring blankly at a wall, eyes heavy and dull. A plate of food on her nightstand lay untouched. Nesta hesitantly approached her. “Feyre?”

Slowly, Feyre turned to her. The look in her eyes was too familiar. A few months ago, those eyes had been Nesta’s. Those eyes had been Nesta’s as she drank herself into stupors. Those eyes had been Nesta’s as she fucked strangers to drown her feelings. Those eyes had been Nesta’s as she had buried herself in music, her only salvation. So, Nesta said nothing else. Only let Feyre see everything, all Nesta had been, all that she was, and all that she will be. Let her see that she understood that even though Rhysand had been horrible, Nesta didn’t expect her to be ok. She wasn’t going to force her to heal by shoving her in the House of Wind. She needed time and support. So Nesta would give that to her. For however long she needed it. Feyre had always been the rock of the family. But now she didn’t have to be. Nesta’s cursed heart, the heart that used rage as a defensive mechanism to hide her weakness, that she loved and hated more fiercely than others, than despite all she had said, all she had done, she loved her sisters, Feyre and Elain. And no more distance between them. From this moment onward, everything they did, they’d do it together. They’d get through it together.

They had perhaps the strangest familial experiences ever. They had all made more mistakes than they could count. But it didn’t matter. Blood was thicker than water. At the end of it all, they were still sisters. And Nesta would make sure Feyre would never forget that.

“How is she?” Gwyn asked, Emerie standing beside her. “As well as can be expected, given the circumstances,” Nesta replied. “In other words, she’s physically healthy, but mentally, she’s a wreck.” Gwyn nodded sympathetically. “When she’s ready, we’ll offer her the opportunity to join us,” Emerie said, drumming her fingers on her thigh. “The Valkyries, I mean. They really helped us; I think they can help her, too. Find her groove again. And people that she actually likes. People she chose. Her own friends.”

Nesta said quietly, “I think that would be amazing for her, if she agrees.”

Emerie nodded. “How are you dealing with all of this?”

Nesta shrugged. “I got off ok. It’s Feyre who suffered the most. Those people did horrible things to her and got her to do horrible things. But ultimately, they were her only friends. I’m sure that was by design.” Even Elain had her own friends outside of the Inner Circle: the two half-wraiths named Nuala and Cerridwen. To Elain’s relief, they had survived the bloody battle. The two of them, along with Elain, had become Parikshit’s primary caretakers while Feyre recovered physically and mentally.

In all of the chaos, Elain had stepped up and become a leader. It was inspiring to see her wrangle up the survivors and try to put everyone together. It made Nesta wonder about a lot of things. Between Lucien’s serious Spring ties and courtier abilities and Elain’s leadership skills and love of nature, they could save the Spring Court. The only problem was getting rid of Tamlin.

That was a thought for another time. Nesta was too exhausted, too drained, to think of anything else besides sleep. So, she went to a guest room in the palace, drank a cup of water, then sank into one of the deepest sleeps of her life. Elain’s POV Elain took a deep breath, smoothing the skirts of her lavender dress.

It had been a week since Rhysand had died. A week since Feyre had given birth to Parikshit. A week since Nesta had decided to go after the other two parts of the Dread Trove. A week since Eris had returned to the Autumn Court, Lucien and co to the human lands. A week had passed and yet Feyre still sat in that bed, staring blankly at a wall. Not so long ago, it had been Elain in that position. Staring blankly ahead, wishing for sunshine. When she had just been made, that accursed iron engagement ring her last remaining connection to the human life she had been forced to leave behind. A painful reminder of what she had once had and would never have again. His family despised the Fae- and yet, some small, stupid part of Elain had hoped that Graysen’s love for her would be enough to overcome all that. But the way he had spoken of her, the disgust, the way he had insinuated that she was someone else’s property…well let’s just say Elain felt as if she had seriously misjudged him.

“You’re bound to some…Fae male. A High Lord’s son!” “His name is Lucien.”

Elain had been slightly desperate for Graysen to take her back; there had been a glamour set-in place, but it had not fooled him. He had seen her for the now Fae female that she was, and that was enough for him to turn away in disgust. Any slight hope Elain might have had of convincing him probably evaporated with her statement.

His name is Lucien.

It means nothing, she had declared to him. The mating bond meant nothing when her heart belonged to him. And yet when he had spoken of him so callously, some part of her, some instinct, had roared in her blood to make Graysen speak of him with respect. She had known Nesta had not approved of Graysen- yet had raised little objection, because she had seen how happy Elain was with him. But it was all a lie. All of it was a lie, if pointed ears were enough to make him turn away from her. Elain only wished she had realized it sooner. Only wished she hadn’t given her heart and her maidenhood over to him.

Elain brought herself back to the present. She had moved on from Graysen now. But Feyre was the one who suffered now. Suffered because her husband…her husband was now dead. And she had just become a mother.

Elain had hoped to visit the Spring Court her eldest sister had claimed was so perfect for her. But she was needed here, in the Night Court. Feyre was in no position to be ruling an entire court, Cauldron-chosen or not. So, Elain had been doing damage control. Meeting with the people of Velaris, and though her heart quaked at the thought of it, visited the Illyrians and the Court of Nightmares with the support of some of the Valkyries; no way she was going in there alone. The Illyrians had snarled at the number of women, but realization of who and what Elain was, and the abilities of the Valkyries, made them shut up. They seemed to be making more of an impact on their misogynistic traditions now that there wasn’t a male in the helm. Even though it had just been a week. Elain was also still mostly looking after Parikshit. Feyre had lost the willingness to do pretty much anything. It pained Elain as she knew it pained Nesta. Both of them had gone through a phase like this. But both had survived.

And she would make sure Feyre survived too. Just like Feyre had made sure they had survived in the forest. And Nesta had saved Feyre from the Inner Circle. It was Elain’s turn- to make sure Feyre and her people survived the aftermath. She was no warrior-not like Nesta- but this she could do. Some part of her wondered if she was born for this.

Elain doubled over as a vision hit her. It was only a few seconds, then it was gone. But Elain knew what it was.

Dressed in a pale pink ballgown embroidered with flowers, glowing with health, crown atop her head.

It was her.

I think ACOTAR could've been so much better if instead of pitting the Archerons against each other, there was an inspiring, genuinely feminist message of the sisters coming back together. And I'd like to note I despise the way Feyre was written from ACOMAF-onward, but I know Nesta would never judge Feyre for the terrible stuff she did while with Rhysand, but rather support her, understand her, and help her get better and be a better person. Because Nesta made mistakes too, albeit on a much smaller scale, and she grew from it. And I believe while Nesta would 100% be the sister everyone would follow into battle, Elain would 100% be the sister everyone would follow in the aftermath. We haven't seen much from her, but I know she has potential to be exceptionally powerful in a way that Nesta and Feyre aren't. Thanks for reading!

[doodlesandbooks]

So I wanted to write something cute about the rain and a movie night for the teachers but. I can’t write. so. drawing instead. 

[ahauntedcowboy]

NOT ME HAVING A FULL ON INTERACTION WITH HOT (POSSIBLY GAY) NEIGHBOR....

[thesistersarcheron]

i love the sneaky, scheming reputation of the night court. i really wish rhys leaned into flaunting it with the blood rubies tarquin sent him instead of revealing his wings to the other courts during the war.

can you imagine the drama, the gossip, two years later when the most powerful high lord from prythian's most feared court proudly presents his newborn son and heir, carried by the mate so beloved he made her his high lady... and that child has illyrian wings? wings that rhysand and feyre noticeably do not possess? wings that only his two most trusted military advisors, his brothers-in-arms, have? i would kill to be a fly on the wall among helion's inner circle when he learns about nyx. i think nosy, dramatic, daemati feysand would too.

plus, i think the scandalous story of the night court's heir could definitely distract prythian for a solid six months while the inner circle collects the dread trove and gets a few steps ahead of koschei.

[moononastring]

eris out at the stables vibe

[robertsbarbie]

i am as stupid as i look on tv because today, when where i live “felt” like 110 degrees and was humid as fuck, i was outside for 3 hours half of which was in the sun because i didn’t want to inconvenience my coworkers and i didn’t once take a break to go inside OR drink water or anything. it’s a miracle i’m alive with all the stupidity coursing through my veins

[separatist-apologist]

of course you like eris too. change your blog to abuse-apologist since you like it so much.

It's not as catchy

[flowerflamestars]

Rolling in the Graves Snippet

A dark skinned hand peeked into view around the ornate furniture, rising to tuck a flawless piece of bloody red hair behind Eris’s ear. Muscled arm and broad shoulders followed, a grinning, handsome Summer fae who Eris leaned into automatically as he sat up, cheek to cheek.   Comfortable. Tender. Radiantly warm in a way Eris’s enemies would have likely choked to death on their on tongues trying to bluster through writing off.

“As you see,” Eris purred, “I have no need or desire to follow through.”   Lucien actually bounced in place, moving on the balls of his feet. Just once, like the sheer reckless, enormous joy of this moment had to escape his body somehow.   Bright- beautiful, always- but Nesta had never seen him quite so happy before.   “You ran away to Summer,” she said, turning over her shoulder, watching mismatched gold eyes crinkle at their corners as Lucien met her gaze, “When you were seventeen.”   “Burned my ship to the waterline when they found each other too,” The Summer faerie laughed, before saying fond, “Little fucking assholes.”   Eris nosed at his cheek. “I built you another one.”  “Terribly.”   “You forgave me by the fourth ship.”   “That’s what you think,” Lightening fast, he kissed Eris, before vaulting with increasingly alarming speed right over the back of the couch to land before Lucien and throw open his arms, “Come here, kid. High Lords still get hugs.”

[tamthingdraws]

druid of the stars, starry form: archer

[lesbianjodie]

Apparently my inbox had a whole whore milfs era and you know what? Yes. They deserve it. Totally. So so true.

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

sorry i just saw something that made me think of Tamlin with aloose braid w/ flowers in it and oughhhhhhh. im starting to see what the tamlin girlies see in him

[yearning-for-autumn]

So, here is my humble request 👀:

Reader is afab Illyrian, got her wings clipped (because we hate this tradition that’s why and because I am too much into enemies to lovers) and the Bat Boys consider her something close to a little sister.

When Eris was making a deal with the NC to get their help to kill Beron and that shit, his bond snapped with reader.

Obviously problematic for him because he has been insulting Illyrians since his mom popped him out about 500+ years ago.

So…bonus points for: smut obvs.- go as filthy as you like, Lucien absolutely mocking Eris for FUMBLING desperately to get his charm going, reader being oblivious.

I hope this sparks some ideas and creativity 🥰🤞🏻

Would That I -- Part 1

A/n: This was too good not to make into a multi-part fic, so expect more soon. Smut will be coming!

Pairing: Eris X Illyrian!Reader

Warnings: Allusions to smut, pining, mentions of mental health

Word Count: 3,638

Summary: You hate him. You hate the very thought of him. And yet he's your mate. The Mother has a cruel sense of humour.

Part 2 Part 3

Fury rippled through your body like a forest fire. You were livid. And Cassian had the nerve to laugh at you. Well, stifle a laugh. Rhysand was watching him with a worried look as he tried to give him a silent warning to stop. This progressed to warning him mind to mind when you got up from the sofa, flinging a pillow so far it almost landed into the fireplace. Azriel flinched.

“Him!?” You seethed, finally breaking the silence you had kept since your return from that damned High Lord meeting. Cassian snorted softly and you rounded on him with a deathly calm. Rhys made a small noise in the back of his throat.

“Is this funny to you, brother? I’m shackled to that evil, pompous, ginger-haired freak and you’re laughing?” His smile had dropped and a look of fear was quickly overcoming his rugged features. You stepped closer to him, your finger in his face. “Don’t sleep too deeply tonight.”

Rhysand cleared his throat.

“Look, this doesn’t have to be the end of the world. You don’t have to accept the bond. We can make sure you never see him again.” The bond snarled through you at that and you growled.

“Sure Rhys, because you were so calm when you found out Feyre was your mate.”

His brow furrowed.

“So you want to be with Eris?” The name seemed to physically disgust him. Azriel scoffed, abruptly rising from the sofa and marching out of the room. Cassian eyed the doorway in his wake. You turned to Rhys.

“No!” You groaned in frustration, pacing up and down on the carpet like a caged animal. Cassian’s eyes darted between Rhys and you. Finally deciding to break things up he manhandled you into a hug. You fought it for a few moments, before giving up and collapsing into your brothers embrace, hot angry sobs wrenching through you. Rhys took this as his cue to leave, and winnowed—probably to his office—out of the room. Cassian rubbed soothing circles on your back, careful to avoid your wings that were ever more sensitive after the clipping.

You were clipped at thirteen, which is how you had come to live with the three brothers. In Windhaven, they clipped your wings the day you started your cycle. Once grounded there was no escaping your duties, nor any chance to leave the camp. Unless, of course, you had grown close with the High Lord’s son, who had a mother with a habit of collecting strays.

You were there through all of it, the highs, the lows, and Morrigan’s tumultuous relationship with one Eris Vanserra. The male you were now mated to.

---

In the Forest House, Eris was pacing. His throat was still sore from the memory of Azriel’s scarred hand, and his cheek burned from the slap that had earned him from his father. But all of that had been overshadowed. He knew as soon as he saw you. His heart had lurched in his chest so hard he had thought he might throw up. You were the most beautiful female he had ever laid his eyes on. And of course, you were from the Night Court. The Mother truly did have a cruel sense of humour.

You had walked in, looking as arrogant as the rest of them, sharing a secret smile with the shadowsinger before sitting down next to the High Lord. Eris, next to his mother, couldn’t rip his eyes from you. Your doe eyes, sharp and intelligent captured his attention first. He wanted nothing more than to get lost in them, to find out everything about you: What you liked to read, your favourite food, how best to pleasure you and have you screaming his name. He was pulled from his fantasies by your wings. Cauldron, your magnificent wings. Their beauty stole breath from his lungs as they unfurled, getting comfortable on the chair. You had smiled at Feyre, warm and supportive, and Eris knew he was utterly lost.

He finally stopped his pacing, locked inside his room, and sat down on the edge of his bed. He sat there, holding his head in his hands until he heard the scratch of claws at the door. Getting up with a weary sigh, he opened it only to be knocked to the ground by his oldest and most loyal smokehound.

“Cheddar.” He chided as she licked his face excitedly. “Cheddar Biscuit.” He said, sternly, and she leapt off of him, waiting by the door expectantly.

“Yes alright, I suppose it’s time for a walk.” Cheddars tail thumped faster against the door frame and Eris couldn’t help the smile that grew. “Go and fetch your brothers and sisters then.” He said, grabbing the leashes off the wall. A walk was one way to clear his mind.

---

As you had predicted, Rhys was holed up in his office when you went looking for him. He barely looked up at you as you entered.

Rhysand’s office was always meticulously organised, but as you came up behind his chair you noticed how messy his desk had become. Letters and notes were piled on every inch of space, his childhood stuffed bat sitting atop one pile as a makeshift paperweight.

He loosed a breath.

“We are going to war, Y/n.” He said quietly, and any thoughts of Eris Vanserra eddied from your mind. Rhys looked up at you with bloodshot eyes. Guilt coursed through you for ever caring about something as trivial as a mating bond when you and your brothers were set for battle. You had only just got Rhys back from under the mountain, only to potentially lose him again.

“Is it certain?” You asked, leaning down to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Is Cass--?”

“Leaving for Windhaven by first light.” He answered.

“Ok.”

Rhys turned, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He knew what you were thinking, though you wished you weren’t.

“Eris is an awful male, Y/n. You know I could never support the bond between you. Azriel is...well, I’m sure you already know.”

You did. The moment he had stormed out of the room you had known this was the beginning of a negative spiral for Az. Not to mention the upcoming war. You stood up straight.

“That being said.” Rhys continued. “Eris is ensuring Autumn allies with us against Hybern. There is a certain political advantage to the match.”

You scoff.

“Like there was with Mor?” Rhys turned green. “What did Eris bargain for in return for Autumn’s support? What did you trade away, Rhys?”

Rhysand looked every bit five centuries old when he turned to you.

“Our support in his bid for the throne. Whenever that may be.”

Hatred for the male burst anew in your gut, fiercer still now that you were mated to him.

“That power hungry bastard.” You spat.

Rhysand sighed.

“He could never deserve you, starlight. I will make sure that he never sees you again. I will not lose another sister.”

---

It wasn’t until midnight that you saw Azriel. The last of your brothers to approach you. He let himself into your room, waking you, tattered blanket draped around his shoulders. Rhys’ mother had sewn it for him years ago, before you had come to live with them. It had helped him through many hard nights. So much so that it was threadbare and faded. Rhys had enchanted it not to break further as a solstice gift one year.

You sat up worried.

“Az? Are you ok? You didn’t—”

“No,” He assured, and you relaxed against the pillows, “I’m ok.”

You shuffled over in your bed to make space for him, and he laid next to you, blanket over the both of you.

“I hate him.” He said into the darkness. “I hate what he did to Mor. I hate everything he stands for. I will not let him have you.” He declared.

You snuggled up to your eldest brother.

“I don’t know why you all seem convinced I’m going to somehow fall for this prick.” You said, and he snorted. “I hate him as much as you do.”

Azriel tucked you under his arm.

“I know.” You smiled tiredly, somehow understanding the words Azriel left unsaid. The words Rhys had been able to express. Azriel’s shadows settled over your heart, confirming, and the two of you fell asleep.

---

Months later, Eris sat in a tent, head between his legs to stop from throwing up. Thousands were dead. Thousands more were surely destined to die. Two of his brothers, and his mate, fought on the battlefield.

He only had a moments warning before he was violently sick into a bucket.

Asher, his youngest brother before Lucien, chose this moment to enter his tent unannounced, scowling at the sight of Eris hunched over and retching.

“Can’t handle the bloodshed, brother?” He teased, though he sat next to Eris and put a warm hand on his shoulder. The gaping wound on his neck was healing quickly, as it should with the High Lords power coursing through his veins, but the sight of it set Eris off again. He heaved into the bucket, choosing to ignore the gagging sound Asher made.

“Eris you need to pull yourself together. Father is only a tent over.”

Eris rolled his eyes.

“Just show me your plans, Ash.”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m better off keeping them to myself, seeing as you’re battlesick.” Asher grimaced when Eris finally sat up and pushed the bucket away from him.

“Asher.” Eris’ voice held all the command of General, and eldest brother. Asher groaned petulantly as he handed over the plans.

In Eris’ opinion, not that Beron took any heed, Asher should never have taken on as much responsibility in this war. After Ceres had died, Ash had taken over as Eris’ right hand. Ceres had been more naturally suited to the role, Beron’s bloodlust had run as deep as his bones, and he had a sharp mind for strategy. Eris still mourned the boy he had raised—a quick witted, chess loving, boisterous child—but he had to accept, he had lost Ceres long before he had died. And Eris wasn’t keen on losing anyone else. Asher wasn’t comfortable with a sword, the gash in his neck clear evidence, and he had a wife and child that weakened his resolve. This is what Eris had to work with. And he had a job to do.

He let Asher discuss his plans, though he was unable to rip his mind from providing a hundred different ways that he could die, that Ash or Lucien could die, that you could die.

It took every ounce of training ingrained in him not to falter in his attack the moment he had caught sight of you, fighting your way through the onslaught, Mor by your side. Cauldron, you were ethereal. Your silken wings were spread as if they could carry you into the air, though he had long since guessed that they could not. You cut through your enemies with a frightening ease. Catching his eye, you hesitated just a second, then your face had turned to rage and the next Hybern soldier to cross your path had been beheaded so brutally that even he had to avert his gaze.

When he had looked back up, you were gone, lost in the chaos.

Asher sighed,

“You’re not listening.” He said, and Eris had the decency to feel bad. He looked at Ash wearily.

“Come back in the morning. I’ll be more attentive.” Ash just peered at him over his notes.

“It’s her isn’t it. It’s Y/n.”

“Yes.” Eris said, lacking the energy to lie.

“She’s Night Court. She’s not one of us. One day you’ll find a nice Autumn girl to marry and when you’re High Lord she can pop out a few Autumn court babies.”

“She is my mate.” Eris growled.

“Mate’s aren’t always meant to be Eris. It’s only a biological match, not a political one. When you find an Autumn Court lady you’ll wonder why you ever spent time worrying over some Night Court harlot.” Eris snarled, despite himself. His brothers words were wrenched straight from Beron’s throat and he wouldn’t stand for it. Not from Asher. Not from his kind, loving Ash.

“Get out.” He said. Asher looked surprised, and—Eris was pleased to see—ashamed. He made no moves to leave, so Eris repeated himself, sharper this time.

“Get out.” He snapped, “Come back in the morning with more sense.”

Asher, chastised, fled from the tent, and Eris buried his head in his hands. What use was there protecting you from his brothers when it was certain your own said the same about him. There was no denying the cruel twist of fate the Mother had pulled on the both of you, destined to crash and burn. He imagined you in your own tent, laughing at the thought of him speared on another males sword. Mor sat next to you whispering all the terrible things he had done that day, terrible things to twist your mind and poison the very notion of him. He was too late, he was nothing but soot in the deep pit of your heart, choking the both of you.

He felt blindly for the bond, and found it, rotten.

---

The war was over, but the scars it had left were red raw and bleeding. Rhys had died. Your brother. The one who had sheltered you, loved you, given you a home and a family for a few agonising minutes had been gone. Gone. And yet that Cauldron damned bond had been chafing in the back of your mind. You sat in your bedroom riddled with guilt as it plagued your mind. Eris. Eris. Eris. He infested your mind, your senses, you were consumed by the very thought of him.

Walking through the streets of Velaris had started to feel claustrophobic, being around anyone beginning to suffocate you. You felt safer on your own. Recently you had taken to sheltering in your room, only emerging to eat. Your brothers eyed you with poorly concealed worry every time you walked, ghostlike, through the house, shuffling to the kitchen to fix a plate of leftovers then retreat hastily to your safe space.

Nesta was struggling too, after the war. It had left its scars in all of you. You could feel Cassian’s heart breaking the day Rhys sent her away with him, but all you could think about was whether your brother would do that to you. You thought you knew the looks he gave you.

Disgust.

What use was a flightless Illyrian female, who couldn’t train, couldn’t talk, couldn’t think. He was dead. Rhys was dead. And then he wasn’t. Why were Seren and your mother not afforded the same luxury. You grieved, and cried, and screamed. It truly was a sick thing, to use to the miracle of Rhys’ living to guilt yourself into believing there was hope for them. But then, everything in your mind had twisted of late.

Nesta began training. Nesta began healing. And you were stuck in your room.

Every morning without fail, Azriel came to check on you. He stroked your hair until you woke up, then retreated when you once again rejected his invitations to join them. The Valkyries, they were calling themselves. You would have been proud of Nesta if you could feel anything anymore.

Occasionally, you could feel a light tug on the bond, on the shackles that kept you bound to Eris. The first few times you had thrown up. Now it was little more than an annoyance. You were his dog, disobediently pulling your leash as you fell further and further into nothingness. His face in your mind was as cold as it had been on the battlefield as he yanked you back, choking you. You spluttered. Standing weakly, you made your way down to the kitchen, setting water on the stove to boil.

“Sister.” Cassian’s voice rang out behind you and you flinched, dropping your teaspoon. He bent to pick it up and set it down on the counter. “Azriel says you’ve been ignoring him. You’ve been ignoring all of us.”

You shrugged, the familiar pang of guilt squeezing your chest, making it difficult to breath. You braced both hands on the counter top, taking a ragged breath. Cassian was beside you in a heartbeat, holding you in his arms.

“Y/n, I’m worried about you. We all are.” He squeezed you closer to him, closer than you had allowed anyone in months. “Come and stay with Nes and I. Az is a terrible chaperone, and I need to see you. You could be wasting away down here and I wouldn’t know until it was too late.”

You shook your head, though you no longer knew why you resisted him. Your body melted against him, muscle memory taking over as he enveloped you in his wings. You swore you heard him sniffling as you hugged him back.

“Please, y/n.” He said, voice shaking. It didn’t take much more convincing.

A few days later, Rhys was helping you unpack your bags in your new room in the House of Wind. You took the room next to Azriel, who—Cassian had explained—was falling into bad habits again: Not eating, not sleeping, waking up in a cold sweat when he did finally drop off. Cassian wasn’t doing as well as he wanted you to believe, either. Twice in the following week you woke up to find him taking things from your room. And once, when you had floated downstairs in a miserable haze, you found him throwing up in the kitchen sink, an empty plate that had once held a batch of Elain’s cookies sitting on the table.

Nesta had dragged you to Valkyrie training a few times, and whilst you were beyond their current skill level, it had taken your mind off of things. Cassian’s eyes gleamed with pride everytime Nesta mastered an attack or a block. He touched her affectionately, he teased her, he lingered as she passed to breath in her scent. Watching them together was as painful as it was sweet. How simple love could be.

Would that you could be half as lucky.

Slowly you were emerging from your shell. You could smile again. Nesta invited you to read with her and the Valkyries, and in the silence you found firm friendship. Emerie was a gift from the Mother herself. You bonded instantly, both of you clipped, grounded, but neither broken. Many late nights were spent talking, about books, your brothers, or about Eris. Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn knew little of the Autumn prince, but you appreciated their outside perspective on the bond. It was still a bitter taste in your mouth, but it was becoming more bearable with each passing week.

---

There was a ball approaching in the Hewn City and Rhys had asked Nesta to attend. Not long after, she asked you to join her.

“I can’t do this alone, Y/n, please.” She said one night, sitting at the end of your bed. You bit your lip, unsure.

“Eris will be there.” You said.

“I’ll be the one dancing with him. Rhys wants him falling madly in love with me. He won’t look your way, I promise.” Nesta said. You knew she meant well by that. You had never wanted him anywhere near you before. But something about her oath left a sting. You frowned, which she took to mean you were still unconvinced.

“Please, Y/n. My sisters will be there, Rhys will be there. I’m not ready to face them all on my own, not yet.”

And so you found yourself stood atop the stairs the following week, draped in a black dress with a slit so high up one side your whole leg was practically exposed. The back scooped so low the dimples at the bottom of your spine peeked over top. You were devastating. Death in midnight silk. Rhys’ smile was that of pure brotherly pride as you walked down the steps, your hair pinned in braids and curls.

Nesta stole your breath away as she appeared in the hallway, but it wasn’t your gaze she sought out. You looked towards Cassian and could have sworn he was drooling. Eris would be blind-sided by her, of that you had no doubt.

In the Hewn City, they danced like lovers. Nesta as dangerous in the ballroom as she had become on the training grounds. Every move was calculated, every parting of her lips a dance of the mind, designed to ensnare Eris in her dastardly web. Eris was caught. And you burned.

Standing next to Azriel, heat rolled off you in waves. He took a step towards you, perhaps to offer you a drink, but found something in your eyes to make him change his mind. You hadn’t taken your eyes off of Eris all night. He was sinful. A courtier and a Prince. His hair pooled over his shoulders, one strand to the front neatly braided. You reminded yourself that this was the male that left your cousin for dead at his Court border. Biting your lip, your mind wandered to see yourself lying prone beneath him as he stood, smile widening, cock hardening in his—

“Get me a drink.” You ordered Az. He raised an eyebrow.

“What’s the magic word.”

“Azriel.” You growled, and he turned on his heel. Your eyes stayed pinned on Eris as he led Nesta across the dancefloor in a tantalizing waltz. His gaze finally met yours, and you saw a fraction of surprise before his emerald eyes darkened. He licked his lips, eyes locked with yours as he leaned down, and pressed a kiss to Nesta’s neck.

A/N: I have to thank @fandomsmultiverse for talking to me and giving me about 100 ideas to flesh this story out, I really hope you like it! There will be a part 2 coming soon! I wouldn't just leave you on a cliffhanger like that. We will see more of Eris and Reader interacting, and maybe.....some smut...

[ahauntedcowboy]

i’m trying dating apps again and i matched with this dude who has a septum piercing...and a motorcycle....like sir imma need you to respond to my messages asap...

[luveline]

hello my love!! could you maybe show us what bedtime is like in the kbd universe? thank you, you’re incredible <3

kbd —dad!steve and mom!reader get their small family ready for bed. 3k

“She looks so pretty,” Avery whispers. 

Steve struggles to pull the hem of his sock over his ankle, crossing his legs to match her as she snaps an apple slice in half with her fingers, the juice wetting her pyjama top, her torso swaying as his knee bumps into hers. “Who?” Steve asks, blinking. 

“Wren,” Avery says, leaning back to let Steve see the baby where she’s napping in her bouncer. Avery shoves a chunk of apple in her mouth. “She’s pw-ery.” 

“Try not to talk with your mouth full, you might choke.” 

Avery nods, closing her mouth to chew up the rest of her food with chipmunk cheeks. 

Steve draws a little heart into her knee. She has a bruise from falling up the stairs a few days ago like a purple ink blot just under her kneecap, but she hasn’t complained. She didn’t cry when she fell, she just got back up and asked for a Capri-Sun. Steve’s surprised she’s so hardy, but she’s getting older. He’d sort of been hoping she’d want him to kiss it better.

“She’s pretty like her big sister,” he says. 

“I’m glad she’s stopped crying all the time.” 

“Me too.” He takes one of the smaller slices from her plate to eat, wiping juice from her cheek as he does. 

She grins. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. You all done?” 

“Yep.” 

“Not hungry anymore?” 

“Nope.” She grabs her plate before he can. “I’ll put it in the sink.” 

“Thanks, beautiful.” 

She jumps up with her empty plate and does a spin, saying, “Who, me?” 

Steve laughs like an idiot, still chuckling to himself as the sound of her plate hitting the kitchen sink reaches his ears. Wren, finally out of her sleep regression (for now), doesn’t wake. All good signs of a good night. 

Steve lets his head fall back onto little legs. “What about you?” he asks Dove, the second youngest daughter, where she sits behind him on the couch. 

She hums under her breath, her hands quick to weave into his hair, petting it away from his face. He waits for an answer he doesn’t get, closing his eyes and turning his face into her knee. Her giggles are treacle sweet. “Don’t sleep,” she protests. 

“I’m tired.” 

“It’s not bed time.” 

She’s not gonna like what Steve’s about to tell her, if that’s the case. She had a screaming tantrum last night about bed time where she threw herself on the floor and whacked her hands until her palms turned bright red. He’s not wanting a repeat. 

“It is bed time,” he says gently, though it’s not for another half an hour, “but, I was thinking, because you’ve been so good today you’d stay up extra. Maybe even have hot cocoa before bed.” Steve turns to meet her eyes. “How’s that sound?” 

“Really?” she asks, her eyes blowing wide with excitement. Steve is starting to wonder if she’s not as mini-me as he used to think, growing into sweeter features as she leaves the baby-toddler stage and starts to look like a kid. He loves it. 

“That sound fun or what?” 

She dives at him. He has enough sense to have twisted and catches her before she can break any of his teeth. “You are the best daddy ever!” she declares seriously, almost tipping over his shoulder. 

He lets her dangle for a second, then yanks her back topside. “You’re my best girl, that’s why. Let’s go make the drinks. Actually, we better go see who else wants some.” 

You and Bethie are attempting some last minute crafts at the dining table, and you’re very interested in hot chocolate but Beth doesn’t like it and so, doesn’t want any. She does seem interested in a glass of milk with a couple of chocolate chip cookies, so it’s nearly the same thing. “Careful,” he says, putting the half a pint of milk down in front of her birdhouse cautiously, “you don’t wanna spill that, baby.” 

“Who says she’s gonna spill it?” you ask. 

“Don’t start with me,” Steve warns. 

You smile to yourself. You’ve a spatula for PVA glue in your hand, skins of glue dried to your fingertips flecked with splinters of wood. Lollipop crafts felt like a good idea when he’d suggested it, but then he didn’t actually want to do it, and you’d been kind enough to step in. I’m sick of mess, he’d confided. 

Well, you’d said, somewhere between a quick kiss pressed to his shoulder and your hand rubbing it away, you probably shouldn’t have asked me to have so many kids. 

I love mess, he’d corrected immediately. Love to make more of it someday. 

“We’re nearly done in time for bed,” you assure him now. 

“I told Dove she could have an extra half an hour.” He winks at you clumsily. 

“Oh, really? Well, maybe Beth and Avery should get some extra time too.” 

Beth dunks her cookie into the top of her cup. “No thanks. I’m tired. Can I sleep with Avery again?” she asks, milk dribbling down the sides of the glass to darken the coaster underneath. 

“You’ll have to ask her yourself,” Steve says. “Wait, where is she? I thought she was in here.” Something grabs him by the legs, a sudden clutching that activates a heat in his eyes and spine he can’t explain. He flinches sideways into a cabinet and almost steps on a rather small limb. “What the fuck.” 

“Boo!” Avery says, laughing brightly as Steve rights himself on the counter. 

“Avery! Did I step on you? I’m sorry,” he says, immediately bending down. “What were you thinking? I could’ve really hurt you!” 

“Daaad, I was just pulling a prank,” she says. 

He checks over the arm he was so sure he’d stepped on. “You okay?” 

“She’s fine,” you say. “Yeah?” 

“I’m fine!” She hugs his legs again. “You said a super bad word.” 

He was hoping everybody missed that. “Dove–”

“Dad,” Dove interrupts, kicking her little feet exactly where he left her sitting on the dinner table by your left, “bad words make me cry.” She says it all clunky and clumsy, having heard it enough times. Her Aunt Robin has a potty-mouthed girlfriend, and Steve can’t do damage control quick enough sometimes.

“No, it’s when you say bad words daddy cries,” Avery says. 

“I didn’t say one!” 

“I know! I just mean it’s not when dad says it.” 

“What?” Dove asks. “He did says it.”

You’re grinning. You love when Dove confuses herself, all kids go through it, where half the time they don’t know what they’re saying until you help them along, but you love Dove’s new phase especially because she’s always been so serious. “What Avery is telling you, baby, is that daddy doesn’t get upset when he says bad words because he’s a grown up.” 

“So when we’re older we can cuss too?” Bethie asks. 

Steve’s jaw drops. “No, Beth! No, none of you need to say bad words, and I don’t either, and I’m really sorry. Can we forget about it?” 

Steve makes hot chocolate and helps you clean the sorry mess you’ve made on the table, and, after some light teasing, everybody forgets he’d reacted so violently to Avery’s surprise. Well, almost. Dove is the first to succumb to a case of the sleepies despite being otherwise reluctant to give in, sitting on his thigh, marshmallows still whole in her drink. She’d barely managed four sips. 

Steve cuddles her to his chest, covering her ear where she nuzzles against him from the sounds of your and Avery’s giggling. “He went pale,” you’re saying. 

Beth offers Steve half of one of her cookies. “You didn’t,” she says. 

If he didn’t have his arms full of Dove he’d scoop her up. “Thank you, Beth. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

“Alright,” you say, twining your fingers and sliding them behind your head, your neck and back clicking audibly in the quiet of the Harrington house winding down, “I think it’s bedtime. Are you done with your drink?” 

You rinse the cups. Steve ferries Dove upstairs, has her down and tucked in in record time, soon enough to catch you as you and the rest of the girls make your way upstairs. Beth and Avery are beautifully silent, weary of their sensitive baby sister where she’s cradled to your chest. 

You attempt to put her down in her crib in your room, but Steve gets the feeling you aren’t successful when a crackly cry breaks out. 

“Oh, no,” Avery says. 

“It’s fine. Let’s go brush our teeth, okay? Mommy has it.” 

They brush their teeth. Steve wipes their faces down with a damp hand towel and has a moment of gratitude just touching their faces. They both look so loved, the way their eyes crinkle, the way they lift their chins, all too happy for Steve to do it. He loves these moments of being a dad most, he might say, second only to getting to talk to them, especially now they’re both holding conversation. They talk to each other none stop; Beth talks to Avery ten times as much as she does anyone else. 

“Are you having a sleepover again?” Steve asks. 

Beth turns to Avery pleasingly. “Can I? Please, please, please.” 

“Yes!” Avery says, big sister extraordinaire. She wraps her arms around Beth’s shoulders, taller, more aware of herself as she presses her cheek to Beth’s and mumbles, “Of course you can. I love you. I want us to have sleepovers every night.” 

You emerge from the bedroom victorious, heading into the bathroom as he and the girls come out. “I’m just gonna brush my teeth,” you say. 

“Gonna get Beth changed.” 

“Okay, I put her nightie on the foot of her bed earlier.” 

It’s routine but not without enjoyment. He makes sure they’re both comfortable in the night's sleepwear and takes care of their hair, before giving Avery’s room a quick half-clean and shaking out the sheets on her bed. Avery has the second biggest bedroom, though Bethie’s is nothing to turn your nose up at, and it gets Steve thinking as they climb up into Avery’s single bed. 

“I think it’s good for you guys to keep your separate rooms for now,” Steve says tentatively, “but what do you think about sharing?” 

The plan was that Dove and Wren would share, but if Avery and Beth are getting along so well, it might not hurt to ask. 

Beth gasps. “Our bedrooms?” 

“Like, you and Avery could both sleep in here. You have a bunk bed, or we could get you a big one to share, and you could share teddies.” 

“I don’t want to share my teddies,” Avery says. 

“Well, you don’t have to. I’m not gonna make you.” Steve squints at them both. “Bad idea?” 

“I want to share,” Beth says immediately. 

Avery has a better understanding of what that will mean. “Maybe.” 

“You don’t have to,” Steve says. “Your rooms are yours, okay? Maybe we can just get you a bigger bed anyways, Ave. You’re so tall now, in a couple of years you’ll be ten feet tall and we’ll have to bend you in half to get you to school.” 

This is the funniest thing a man could say, apparently —both Beth and Avery burst into girly giggles that ring down the landing. Beth sounds like she might be sick. She laughs so much, falling into Avery’s side as her big sister says, “Dad, that’s silly!” 

“I can show you, if you want. We’ll practise making you into an Avery flavour pretzel, c’mere.” 

She squeals and climbs over Beth’s legs to huddle in the corner of her bed. Steve doesn’t so much as touch her legs and she’s laughing again, panicked, hyper laughter like she can’t decide if she wants to be folded or not. He presses his finger over his smile. “Shh, shh, we can’t wake the babies.” 

“Sorry,” she laughs. 

“My fault. Don’t be sorry.” He gives her leg a squeeze. “How about we start to tuck you in, girls? Do we have everything we need?” 

Beth wants a few things from her own bed, but besides that, they’re ready. Well, they’re supposed to be ready, but Steve wound them up and it’s his own fault, he can’t even complain when they beg him to watch a movie. What’s the harm? he decides, turning on Avery’s TV and pushing their favourite tape into the VHS player. 

“The effect FernGully has on the new generation is amazing,” you say, wiping your eyes. You’ve changed into pyjama pants Steve’s sure you’ve had since you met him and a tank top with straps falling down your shoulders. He wants to pull them back over the curve of your shoulder, but he’s trying to be less smothering.

He fluffs the pillows behind the girls’ backs. “It’s the boy. What’s his name? Dennis? Daniel?” 

“Neither.” You put a fallen teddy back on the bed and turn on Avery’s star-shaped night light before flicking off the big light above. The TV glows green on their legs. 

“Gonna lie down?” Steve says, gentler now, easing them in. 

Avery flops back. Beth curls in on her side, and it reminds Steve of you and him. He can sleep any which way. You’re slightly more particular, but you’re happier curled on to him. He really loves how close they are as sisters, and he has to give Avery some credit, because while Beth is exceedingly easy to love, she’s a clinger, she worships her big sister, which must get heavy from time to time. 

Avery pulls the blankets up over them before Steve can do it himself. He sighs, tucking them both in. Blankets pushed gently under their sides, hair brushed back from their little faces, he says, “Love you, Ave. Love you, Beth,” kissing their foreheads in swift succession. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” 

“Love you, daddy,” they say at the same time. 

You touch his arm gently before leaning in for your own kisses. You’re slower than he’d been, turning their faces in your hand one after the other to place identical kisses on their cheeks. “Love you, sweetheart,” you say to Avery, and, “Love you, baby,” you say to Beth. Steve holds your back as you do. “Have good dreams, okay? And don’t mess with the TV. One movie tonight is enough, you’ll wake up with sore eyes.” 

He steals another kiss from both of them and then you’re closing the door behind you, the house much darker and quieter than it had been only ten minutes previous. 

“You want a glass of water?” Steve says. 

You catch his hand. “I got you one.” 

Neither you nor Steve bother with anything but bed. He draws back the blankets and you climb in, only stopping momentarily to make sure that Wren’s alright in her crib. You curl in the middle of the bed and wait for Steve to force his way beneath you, which he does, your face resting on his shoulder, your leg stretched across his. Your hip is a lump in the blankets. He lets his hand fall atop it, whistling a tired breath through his teeth. 

“Mm,” you agree, stretching out, curling in tighter. 

“I know,” he says. Can’t forget his best girl, can’t not think about how much he loves you when it’s you and him alone. Mostly. “You alright?” 

“Fine. Tireder than I thought.” Your eyes close, lashes brushing his chest. “H?” 

“What?”

“You okay?”

“Fine, honey. Was just asking you,” he mumbles. His pillow feels like a cloud beneath his head, the mattress even better, and the sheets are a brushed cotton that’s amazingly soft on his skin. 

He turns his nose down onto you for a not so secret sniff. 

“Feels too good to be true.” 

“My turn tonight,” he says. 

“No, baby, it’s my turn.” 

“That’s fine.” He’s not as tired as you, or at least not half as achy. If Wren wakes up crying (not definitely going to happen) or Dove has a late night startle (even less likely, though not impossible), he’ll take the burden tonight. “I wanted babies and I got ‘em.”

“I want them too,” you say. 

“Of course you do,” he says, rubbing your forehead with the tip of his nose affectionately. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“Less when they wake me up,” you joke. 

Steve feels up your side to your shoulder for a sleepy cuddle. You don’t realise how soft you can be, how warm you are pressed against him like this, how grateful he is to hold you. Maybe you can read his mind, or maybe as just pure evidence of such a feat, you cup his upper arm in your hand and begin to draw shapes over his skin, breaking the pattern with fleeting scratches. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, honey. I’m sure. You go to sleep now, okay? It’s Saturday tomorrow,” he whispers tenderly. “You don’t have anywhere to be.” 

“‘Cept here,” you whisper back. 

“Love you.” A brush of his lips to your eyebrow. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” 

“I love you.”

“I love you,” he says. He swears he’s gonna stay up for a bit and count your eyelashes or something, maybe pen you a love poem, write a note about your lips and how they pout when you’re nearly sleeping, but he forgets to when you press your face into the curve of his neck and kiss it clumsily. You fall asleep at the same time, the girls laughing in whispers just a few feet away behind the wall.  

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

DRABBLE: YOU'RE THE CUTEST BIMBO HE'S EVER SEEN (18+) (MHA) (for Fem!Readers)

Writer's Note: Idk...I like the bimbo shit. I might make a fic with a bimbo!reader one of these days. Btw, some of these drabbles are meant for chubby/plus-sized readers, but I'll just put that as a note. Enjoy! -Jazz

*********

PRO!HITOSHI - Note: Reader is Chubby 

When he sees you for the first time, he is as intrigued as he is rock-hard the very moment he sees you in your little pink thong bikini. 

He is down the shore with Denki after being forced to take a trip to get out of the sweltering, congested Tokyo heat for a while. Don’t get him wrong; a nice trip down the shore to get away from the villain activity and constant rush of the city is definitely a nice change of pace. But to walk around semi-naked people isn’t is idea of a relaxing vacation. It’s uncomfortable for him, walking around and seeing so many women with strings up their asses. 

“You just need some company,” Denki said when Shinso voiced his concerns to his friend. “This place is swimming with plenty of pretty babes for the choosing, ‘Toshi! Who wouldn’t want to spend some time with the top underground hero in Japan?” 

Though Denki's compliment works somewhat, Shinso isn’t concerned with meeting someone for a hookup. He isn’t even really interested in sex…until he meets you, at least. While Denki is busy trying to flirt with some girls standing by a hot dog stand, Shinso slinks away into a nearby trinket store. His eyes roam over the seashell fridge magnets and snow globes with the fake snow replaced with sand. He thinks about which gift would be good for Eri, his little sister, until his eyes land on you. 

There you stand a few feet away at a shelf of trinkets, standing on your tip toes with one of your chunky arms outstretched. You’re trying to reach for a pink seashell-shaped purse on the top shelf, and though you know damn well you can’t reach it, you still try. 

Shinso is no longer interested in checking out the store items now that he’s got a look at you. You’re the best thing in here, from your plump little frame to the pink clothes you wear…if you can even call them clothes. 

You’re really wearing just a mesh pink cover-up dress with a hot pink bikini underneath. The bikini top ties around your neck and back, exposing your rolls, while the bottoms are stuck in between your luscious, plump asscheeks that all Shinso wants to do is shove his face in. While he’s still uncomfortable seeing you in a thong, it's a different kind of discomfort now. He can feel his cock chub against his shorts, uncomfortably so. 

“Excuse me?” It takes him a moment to realize you’re talking to him because of how dazed he is from your ass. You’ve turned around to face him now, showing your front, and dear fuck, does he wish you wouldn’t have. He can now see how the bikini top barely covers your big, juicy breasts and how your tummy bulges slightly over the string waist of your thong. Your lips, kissable and soft, shin in pink, glittery gloss and your cute little fingernails and toenails are coated in pink paint. Everything about you is pink. 

He decides that the color fits you especially well when you open your mouth to speak again. “I'm so sorry,” you giggle sheepishly, giving him a smile that feels like a punch in the gut, “but could you help me reach that bag up there?” You point one chunky hand up towards the top shelf. “I’m just too short to reach.” 

Shinso blushes at the sound of your voice, so sweet and innocent-sounding. He wonders how you’d sound moaning his name with his cock buried deep inside of you. “Uh, sure,” he replies, his voice sounding dry and gravely. He can barely breathe. You excitedly clap your hands, thanking him profusely for his help. “I was so sure I’d end up tripping over these,” you giggle, pointing down at your pink sandal wedges. What a pretty princess, you are. 

“It’s whatever,” Shinso deadpans as he walks over to you. “Wouldn’t want nothin’ to happen to those shoes.” He glances down at them. “Steve Madden, huh?” he asks, loving it when you flush shyly at his observation. “I had some extra money,” you confess. “So I splurged. But they’re cute, right?!” 

‘So, so cute,’ he thinks, but he isn’t referring to the shoes one bit. When he steps beside you to reach for the bag, he catches a whiff of your body spray. It is sweet and delectable, like whipped cream or sugar. God, could you get any cuter? As if answering him, his cock throbs painfully in his shorts. He barely has to stand on his toes to reach the bag, causing you to cutely gasp at his height. “Wow!” you say, shocked. “You’re so tall! I’ve never met anyone as tall as you.” 

Shinso chuckles when he grabs the bag and holds it out to you. “Well, now you have. And you’re welcome…” He trails off, wishing you’d take a hint and spill the space in with your name. He watches as you gulp and stare up at him with those big, doe-like eyes as you take the bag from him. When you do, your fingers brush against his, sending an electric shock through him as if Denki just used his quirk on him. 

“T-Thank you,” you softly stutter. “And I’m Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you, Mr…” You trail off too, cutely puckering your lips. “No Mr,” Shinso chuckles. “Just Shinso. Or Hitoshi. Whichever you want.” 

You tap one painted nail against your chin thoughtfully. “Hit-o-shi,” you carefully pronounce. Shinso has to suppress a groan at the sight of your soft lips forming his name.

“Can I call you ‘Toshi?” you ask, hope in your eyes. And something more. Mischief, it looks like. Hitoshi’s interest reaches its peak when he realizes that there is a whole other side to you than the cute, innocent persona he’s seeing right now. 

He copies your move and thoughtfully taps his finger against his chin, earning a sweet giggle from you. “Only if I can call you princess,” he replies smoothly. “And maybe buy you somethin’ to eat? I’ll admit that I’m not too familiar with the boardwalk though.” 

You look rather shy from the pet name, but you don’t let that stop you from conversing more with him. “Is it your first time here?” you ask, gasping when he nods. “Oh, you’re gonna have so much fun! They have the best funnel cakes and pizza here! I’ll tell you what, ‘Toshi: I’ll treat you to food for doing such a good deed and helping me get my bag. Deal?” 

You reach your hand out for him, peering up at him through your thick, doll-like lashes. All Shinso wants to do is fuck you silly while you look at him like that, but instead, he takes your hand, smirking at the way you bite your lip. “It’s a deal, princess,” he huskily says. 

SHIGIRAKI - There’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing to people. There’s just no way! Do you know what you’re doing to him? 

These are the thoughts that run through Shiggy’s head when you step into the dimly-lit, crowded bar with Toga by your side. The two of you giggle to each other, looking like the best of friends in your little sundresses and tiny purses that hang off of your wrists. The only difference between you and Toma the combination of innocence and sexiness you seem to ooze. 

Toga had said she was inviting a friend of hers to the annual bar hop adventures she, Shiggy, and half of the LOV always have at this exact bar. Dabi knows the guy so they get drinks half off and the cops aren’t called despite them being out and about in the city. He sits with Dabi, Mr. Compress, and Twice (who won’t shut the fuck up) now, a whiskey in his hand that he knows he’s going to need when you finally come up to greet him. 

Shiggy was initially against Toga bringing a stranger into their activities. “What if she talks?” he hissed. “How can you be so sure she won’t blab to the police about us? How do you even know this girl?” Toga barely gave him a glance as she poured herself some juice in the kitchen in their lair. “She’s an old childhood friend of mine,” she explained. “And no, she’s not gonna talk because she hates cops and heroes. I promise you’ll love her! She’s got a wicked streak to her.” 

When he sees you, he can’t tell what about you is so ‘wicked’. You look like the cutest package of candy in your short, pink sundress that barely covers your ass or your tits that jiggle enticingly. He doesn’t even think you’re wearing a bra. You paired the dress with some pink heels, a charm bracelet, and two high pigtails that he envisions yanking on while his cock is buried deep in your– 

“Hey, guys!” Toga giggles when she finally makes it to the stools. Shiggy nearly jumps out of his skin, earning a low chuckle out of Dabi. “This is my friend, Y/N. The one from my childhood? I told you I was bringing her tonight, remember?” She gives you a toothy, excited grin, allowing you to introduce yourself further. 

“Nice to meet you all,” you say in your sugary, sweet voice that washes over Shiggy. “I hope I’m not interrupting your night out, but Toga insisted I meet you all.” Twice is the first one to make an impression, hopping out of his seat to greet you. “Not at all!” he brightly chirps. “I’m Twice, by the way. This here is Dabi, Spinner, and Shiggy.” 

Spinner gives you a nod while Dabi only glances and Shiggy glares at Twice. “Shigaraki,” he corrects his friend. Toga rolls her hazel eyes while you giggle to yourself. “Ignore him,” she sighs. "Come, sit right here with me! I’ll order us some drinks. Do you like those fruity ones?” 

Eagerly, you nod, making you even cuter. You then turn to him, your big eyes stopping him short of breathing. “Um…is this seat taken?” you ask, pointing one red-painted nail at the empty stool. To anyone else, he would’ve said something smart, but he can’t even muster words with how soft your lips look and the sweet smell of your perfume filling his senses. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ he thinks to himself. He’s never had any woman make him feel this way before. He thought these kinds of feelings were long gone. 

He nods, earning a blinding smile from you as you take a seat. As you do, the hem of your dress rides up, revealing a sliver of thigh that has Shiggy’s cock throbbing uncomfortably in his sweats. From his right side, Dabi leans in towards him. “You’d better snag that before someone else does, Shig,” he teasingly whispers. “That someone bein’ me.” 

Shiggy glances at his friend, irked at his attempt at pushing his buttons. He knows Dabi also has a thing for innocence; especially ruining it. He turns to you, already finding you looking at him. “You listen to Nine Inch Nails?” you ask, quiet excitement in your voice. Shiggy blinks, confused as to what you mean, until you point at his band shirt. “I like them too! Have you ever been to one of their shoes?” 

It takes Shiggy some time to process words, but he doesn’t keep you waiting or questioning yourself. “Uh, yeah,” he replies. “Two years ago. You listen to metal like that?” His eyes graze over your outfit and your body, picturing you without clothes. “‘Cause it doesn’t look like it.” 

You giggle, adorably scrunching you nose. “It doesn’t,” you agree, “but yeah! I’m into a lot of hard metal and rock, but not too much screamo. That doesn’t keep me out of Hot Topic though.” Shiggy smirks at your confession and nods down at his wrist. You look down, gasping at the spiked Hot Topic bracelet sitting there. “It’s like we’re one and the same,” you softly laugh, smiling at the bartender when he lowers your pretty, fruity drink down. 

Shiggy watches you sip your drink, your gloss stain on the glass rim making him want to cum all over your mouth. “Are we really?” he asks, but not unkindly. He is actually very curious and interested in you. What is it about you that Toga likes? 

He gets his answer when you turn to him, a mischievous, dark glint in your pretty eyes. Despite your cutesy appearance and pretty clothes, you now appear before him as someone else. Someone darker. “We could always find out,” you suggest, a slight purr in your voice. He doesn’t know if it’s an accident, but your knee slightly brushes his when you shift in your seat. 

Those words are all Shiggy needs. After one too many drinks and the whole “getting to know you” shit, you find yourself underneath him in his bed, your legs up by your ears and your pretty, pink dress on his bedroom floor. Shuddery moans and grunts leave his lips every time he drives his cock into you again and again, his hands wrapped around your ankles. “Tell me how it feels,” he growls. “Tell me, slutty girl.” 

You whine for him, your lipgloss smudged off of your lips and pretty breasts jiggling for him as he fucks you into the mattress. “It feels good!” you babble, your mascara smudged. “You feel so good, Shigaraki!” 

“Tomura,” he grunts down to you. “Call me Tomura.” Realization clears in your dazed eyes and your pretty face splits into a smile before he swoops down to swirl his tongue with yours in a wet, open-mouthed kiss. 

A sudden bang comes from above the wall above your head where the headboard bangs against it. “Could you two shut the fuck up?” Dabi yells. “I’m tryin’ to sleep off this whiskey.” 

“Yeah!” Toga agrees. “I brought my friend tonight to get to know you, Shiggy, but not like this! You’ll ruin her!” A light giggle leaves your lips as Shiggy continues to rock his hips into your wet, tight walls. You lean up, your sticky lips at his ear. “I’m already ruined,” you whisper. “Can you ruin me more, Tomura?” 

Shiggy didn’t need you to repeat. The entire night he spent ruining you over and over again, covering you in his cum until the dawn. Now he thinks you could be an extra good addition to the LOV crew. 

PRO!BAKUGOU - Note: Reader is Chubby

He could’ve blown his fucking load when Mina brings you along for mini golf one night. 

It’s just an ordinary summer evening where he and the squad are playing mini golf and slurping down milkshakes before you show up. Initially, Bakugou is irked waiting for you and Mina to show up, hating when people are late. “Where the fuck are these two?” he huffs. “They’d better not be doin’ their hair or somethin’ ‘cause I’m gonna be pissed if they are.” 

“You know how girls are, ‘Suki,” Kiri chuckles, watching Denki try to aim his ball at a hole surrounded by gnome and fairy statues. “Mina takes forever to do her makeup sometimes, but it’s all to look nice for us. I’d think her friend is doing the same thing.” 

As if on cue, Sero announces their arrival from his seat. “Look!” he exclaims, a chocolate milkshake in his hand. “They’re here! And damn, does her friend look good.” Each boy turns to look at you and they can all agree. Especially Bakugou. 

He can’t keep his eyes off of you as you strut up with Mina, arms hooked in one another’s. You’re wearing a low cut, white crop top with a push-up bra that make your breasts look immaculate and delicious and a tiny, pink tennis skirt that starts at the waistband of your pudgy stomach and stops right at the top of your thick, jiggly thighs. You paired this outfit with white Nike low tops and pink knee socks that make you look more innocent than the cute little smile on your face that gets wider the closer you get to him and the guys.

He can’t stop staring at you, especially when you get closer and he gets to drink in all of the other details to you––how short you are compared to him (you barely graze his chest!); the Fenty gloss on your plump lips; the tiny bow clip in your hair; the scent of fruit on your skin that makes him dizzy. 

Are you fucking forreal? How are you going to show up like that as if it’s normal? Are you trying to tease him? Are you playing with him? Bakugou can’t help but be irrationally angry from how cute and sexy you are. How is it possible to be both cute and sexy? All he knows is that his dick knows the answer judging by how it’s pushing up against his briefs at the sight of you now. 

Mina stops you right in front of him despite his raging hard-on. Just his fucking luck. “Fellas,” she says with a smile, “this is my friend, Y/N. We work together at my agency and she was just dying to meet you guys.” 

You flush, becoming shy at Mina’s teasing. “C’mon, Mina,” you softly whine, bumping your hip with hers. God, what Bakugou wouldn’t give to feel those hips in his big hands! Would you let him? There’s no way you wouldn’t. Your short skirt says that you want his hands all over you. 

“Oh, really?” Denki asks, raising a brow. He struts up to you, already putting on the charm. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N,” he purrs, shaking your hand. “I’m Denki, by the way. You probably know me as Chargebolt.” He raises your hand to kiss it, but is stopped by Bakugou tossing a golf ball at his head. “Kill the flirting, perv,” he grumbles as Denki rubs his temple, glaring at him. 

“Sorry about them,” Mina sighs, but you just giggle. Bakugou’s ears perk at the sound. “That’s Kirishima and Sero aka Red Riot and Cellophane.” Kiri gives you a friendly wave while Sero gives you a wink that Bakugou doesn’t particularly like either. “And Bakugou already made his grand introduction,” Mina sarcastically says. 

You finally face him entirely and he sees your smile falter somewhat when your eyes land on his. Bakugou notices immediately. Do you not like what you see? Are you intimidated by him? He backs up to try and give you space, realizing how small you really are…small enough to break…small enough to toss around in a bedroom. His bedroom, preferably. 

“Nice to meet all of you,” you sweetly say, though your eyes are still on him. “I'm exposing myself here, but I am a big fan of you guys! I’ve got all your posters and merch!” Everyone except Bakugou laughs at your cute little confession. “Oh, yeah?” Sero asks, raising a pierced brow. “So who’s your favorite hero, Y/N? It’s okay, you can tell us.” 

He, Kiri and Denki look at you, interested despite your obvious shyness and discomfort. Even though Bakugou won’t admit it, even he is interested. Even so, he decides to come to your rescue, shocking every single one of his friends. “Ignore them,” he murmurs as he passes you a golf club. “You want next game or what?” 

You stare up at him with those big eyes, looking shocked he’s even saying much to you. You wrap one hand around the golf club, giving him a look at your pink manicure. He can’t imagine how they’d look on his cock while you’re stroking it for him. “I would,” you say, “but I’m not much of a player. I wore the right outfit for it though!”

You swish your hips around in your pink skirt, making Bakugou’s cock even harder when he thinks he catches a glimpse of your inner thighs. “Show her, Katsuki!” Kiri shouts from the sidelines. “She is our guest, after all.” The redhead gives him a knowing wink which emits a growl from Bakugou. 

“Whatever,” he huffs. Despite being pissed that his friends know he is whipped, he leads you over to one of the golf holes located up on a hill surrounded by wooden fans. You stand to the side, your tongue thoughtfully licking your bottom lip and giving him some awful thoughts about your mouth. “Am I doin’ it right?” you ask, even bending your knees though it’s still the incorrect form. 

Bakugou nearly laughs at your cuteness. “Nah, but I’ll give you points for your eagerness. Want me to show you?” You peer at him from over your shoulder and nod. Without even realizing how this looks, he stands behind you, putting a good distance between his front and your back to avoid giving you a taste of his raging bulge. 

“Stand with your hips square with your feet,” he explains, doing his best to not breathe in your shampoo. You do so before his hands cup yours over the golf club. “Take it back once, aim for the ball, and…” He helps you swing the club at the ball, your body twisting with his as you do. The ball goes soaring up the hill and into the hole, never missing. 

From the sidelines, the gang applauded you. “I did it!” you excitedly shout, turning to him. “We did it!” You jump up and down, giving Bakugou a great view of your breasts jiggling and bouncing about. You’re not making this easy for him at all, especially with that pretty smile on your face. “And that’s why you’re my favorite,” you confess. 

Bakugou scowls at you, confused. “Huh?” 

You look down at your shoes, suddenly shy. “The guys asked me who my favorite hero was out of all of you,” you softly say. “And it’s you ‘cause you’re so sweet.” Bakugou’s brain short-circuits. Sweet. You think he's sweet! You, the sweetest little thing he’s ever met. Suddenly, the air between you changes to something more open and flirtatious. He wants to know everything about you now. 

“Well,” he replies, a smirk on his lips, “maybe you can tell me more about how sweet I am over a milkshake?” You look up at him, excitement in your pretty eyes. “And over a phone call!” Denki calls from the sidelines. “Give her your number, dude!” 

Bakugou swears if looks could kill, his friends would be dead by now. But he does, in fact, give you his number at the end of the night. 

PRO!KIRI - Note: Reader is Chubby

‘Mine.’ 

That’s all he can think when he sees you for the first time at the gym. As soon as he sees you in your tight, pink sports bra and shorts that cup your shapely, plump ass so nicely, it’s a fucking wrap for him. You pop up on the treadmill next to him and he immediately notices despite him jogging. So far, he’s at five miles. Another five to go. 

He knows he can’t be distracted by anything that will ruin his workout, but so far, the distraction is winning. You glance at him and offer a smile that makes your little cheeks and baby face even cuter. The sight of you nearly knocks the air out of him. He manages to smile back at you, trying his best to not seem menacing with his sharp teeth, but you don’t seem too disarmed. 

He then pretends to go back to what he’s doing (working out), but all the while, he pays attention to your every move. He watches as one of your chunky fingers presses the buttons on the treadmill, your fingernail pained a glittery pink. Then you start walking along the moving convator belt, your high ponytail swishing behind you and reminding him of some very naughty things, like wrapping his fist in it while his cock is buried in the delectable pussy that he knows hides behind those shorts. 

He’s admittedly never dated a woman of your size or shape before. Honestly, he hasn’t had too many girlfriends due to his demanding job as a pro hero. But looking at the way your breasts jiggle in your sports bra and your soft, chubby waist behind your shorts is making him think differently. Not to mention how short you are. He’s got a thing for short girls. Maybe it’s because of the whole protection thing. He likes feeling tall and big enough to protect his girl from everyone and everything, you? You definitely fit the bill. 

These thought scare him slightly. Why is he pining after a whole stranger in a gym and thinking that you’re his? He’s eyeing you down like you’re a piece of food and he’s starving for it. He immediately turns away and blushes as red as his hair. ‘This is so unmanly,’ he thinks, criticizing himself for his behavior. 

But goddamn, are you too fine! Most of the men in here seem to think so too. He notices their eyes crawling across your body, stopping on your ass and boobs. He glances at you worriedly, wondering if you notice it too. But you’re too busy singing along to the music in your pink AirPods, your voice making him crack a smile. You’re just too cute! 

He doesn’t make his move on the first day though. He waits for about a month before he actually says something to you. Every time he comes in on the weekends, he does so on the same day at the same time hoping to see you. And he does. You strut in wearing your short, tight gym attire with your J’Adore Dior duffle bag, your ponytail bouncing. You greet each other with smiles before he watches you get into your workout, paying close attention to the way your body moves and any gym rats who may want to bother you. 

The day he actually makes a move isn’t one he planned on. It’s a Saturday morning and he’s busy with his cool-down stretches, pretending not to be looking at you in the mirror squatting with a kettlebell between your chunky hands. His eyes marvel at your body, wondering how you’d feel in an embrace or underneath him. Those thoughts quickly dissipate though when someone walks up to you. 

He is buff and about the same height as Kiri with tattoos and a muscle tee. Immediately, Kiri switches into protection mode and strains to hear your convo. “Hey,” the guy greets you. You pause with your workout, lowering the kettlebell down. “Hi,” you sweetly greet, giving him a smile. Kiri bristles. Those smiles are meant for him only! 

“I’m Trent,” the guy says, offering his hand for a shake. You take it, still the sweetheart. “Y/N,” you introduce yourself. Kiri notices that Trent’s hand lingers a bit more than necessary before it drops from yours. “That’s some outfit, y’know,” he chuckles, leaning against one of the machines as he attempts to put the charm on. 

“Thanks!” you giggle. “I bought this week. I just love pink. It’s such a pretty color.” Trent nods, his eyes trailing lustfully over your body in your tight one-piece unitard and cropped hoodie that stops just above your sternum. You don’t notice but Kiri does. “You know, I could always help you with this workout,” Trent suggests. "Help you get deeper into those squats.” 

You blink at him, obviously confused. “Are you a trainer?” you ask innocently. Kiri feels his cock stir. God, you’re just too cute! Trent smirks down at you. “I can be that and more,” he purrs. “Here, let me get you a mat!” 

“O-oh, that’s okay,” you protest. “I-I’m not–“ But he’s already moving to get you a mat and bends down to put it under your feet, eyeing your thighs and calves as he does so. You look so, so uncomfortable.’That’s it!’ Kiri thinks, irked to no end. He’s watched for long enough. He can't stop himself from rising to his feet and storming over to you and Trent, anger stirring within him. 

When he stops near you, you’re the first one that sees him. He thinks he sees the corner of your lips twitch into a smile but he isn’t too sure. He stares down at Trent, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I think she said she’s fine, Trent,” he firmly says, practically spitting the guy’s name. “You should listen to her.” 

Trent pauses and glares up at Kiri. “What do you care?” he scoffs. “So I suddenly can’t be a nice guy?” Kiri glares back at him, his red eyes sharp. “We both know what you’re bein’ nice for,” he almost growls. “And I’m not about to sit by and watch you bother this girl just for some nookie. Leave her alone before I call security.” He eyes Trent down, daring him to fight this. 

Trent stands, his jaw tight and eyes sharp. He glances at you before scoffing to himself and storming off, heading for the locker room. Once he’s gone, you sigh in relief. “Thank you,” you say with gratitude. “I have no idea why he wanted to give me a mat. I didn’t even need one!” 

Kiri relaxes, but only slightly. You’re talking to him. You two are really talking! “Don't thank me,” he chuckles modestly. “Not that I don't think you can handle yourself, but I saw him tryin’ to spit game and you not enjoyin’ it too much, so I just had to step in.” He dares to look down at you and almost creams on the spot at the sight of your cleavage. “W-Well, I’m gonna go and let you–“ 

“I’m Y/N,” you instantly say, twirling the drawstring to your hoodie. You offer him a gloss-lipped smile that gives him butterflies. “Ejirou,” he replies. “Kiri for short.” You giggle to yourself. “I know; other than you being Red Riot, I hear your name all the time here.” He blushes, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m a regular here. It’s one of the only gyms that are safer for pros like me.” 

“Well, I’ll keep your secret,” you giggle, “but only if you agree for me to buy you lunch for your good deed.” From the way you slightly rub your thighs together and peer up at him through your lashes, he feels like you’re thinking of a lot more than just lunch. And he wants to know just what. 

He smirks down at you, trying hard to ignore his dick chubbing in his basketball shorts. “Maybe,” he replies, playing along. “I think I’d need your number for that though. I mean, just to tell you what I like…for lunch.” He almost kicks himself. You giggle to yourself, already pulling your rose gold iPhone out of your pocket. “It’s a date then!” you chirp. 

After leaving the gym with your number in his phone, he can’t help but nut to the thought of you while in his car minutes later, the vision of your pretty lips and body coated in his sticky cum making him fuck his fist a little harder. Call him unmanly, but goddamn, he can't wait for the real thing!  

DABI - When he first sees your cute little self in your mini skirt that barely covers your ass, he just wants to follow you around and scare anyone who dares to look at you the wrong way. 

And that’s exactly what he does. ‘Cause what the fuck are you doing strutting around like that in this club? Don’t you know how you’re dressed? You’re dressed like you want to get fucked. Though he can’t see you from the front, he can tell you’re wearing a halter top judging from the tie around your slender back. And no bra? Those titties must be bouncing everywhere! 

As you can damn well tell, Dabi likes the innocent girls…or the girls who look innocent. Something about ruining them and bringing out that nasty, dark, devious side to them that he knows lies deep underneath their soft, pink, sweet personality. And you’re no different. 

So he lies deep in the cut and watches you laugh and chat with people, blushing cutely when they compliment your clothes and being completely oblivious to the guys who stare you down like they want to eat you alive. He sips on his drink and eyes your legs, wondering how they’d feel wrapped around him. 

It doesn’t take long for this little game to come to an end. You step outside for some air and he’s right behind you, but he doesn’t go out immediately. He watches as you lean against the wall and dig into your pink purse for your bubblegum. Finally, he comes outside, feeling blessed that he can finally get you alone. 

You don't even flinch when he comes up to stand beside you, taking a box of cigarettes out of his back pocket. In fact, you give him a smile as you chew on your bubblegum, your pink lips forming an O for a big bubble. He imagines those lips forming an O when you moan while his tongue is buried deep in your cunt that lies beneath that skirt. From his angle, he can finally see the rest of your outfit––a glittery, pink halter top paired with platform boots and luscious, curly hair that makes you look like one of those early 2000s movie stars. 

“Want some?” you ask, holding the box of gum out to him. His eyes flick from the box to your big, doe-like eyes rimmed with mascara to make them look almost like a doll’s. Like his pretty little doll. “You’re askin’ a stranger whether or not he wants your gum?” he asks, raising a curious brow at you before puffing on his cig. 

You giggle adorably, almost ditzy-like. “You’re not a stranger, silly!” you protest. He blinks down at you, confused. “I saw you when I came into the club with my friend…and while you were following me around.” 

Dabi blanches. Fuck, he’s been caught! How did you even notice? “Accept my apology,” he sighs, smoke billowing from his lips. “Couldn't help myself. You just look too damn cute to be in there not bein’ looked after.” 

At this, you become shy and advert your eyes as a bashful smile adorns your pretty face. “You know, smoke is a bad habit,” you softly say. He nods, agreeing. “What’s your point?” he asks, paying close attention to your body language. He notices how tight your thighs are pressed together and the way your fingers fiddle with your skirt. You’re wanting something. 

“Because…” Your eyes slowly trail back to his, now hooded and lustful. “Nicotine breath ruins kisses,” you purr. “And I’d really like a kiss from you. I have to thank you for watching my back in there, don’t you think?” 

Dabi swears he’s never been harder in his life. He’s also have never ditched a cig that wasn’t a stub yet either, but the promise of finally getting your lips on his makes him toss the cig down and crunch it under his shoe. 

Several minutes later, your glossy, soft lips are on his, the taste of strawberries in his mouth, while his cock is buried deep in your soft, wet pussy. Your hands are pressed against the wall as he grips your hips, your skirt hiked up and your lace panties pushed to the side to give him all the freedom to fuck you as he pleases. And he does so.

“You’re just like a doll,” he grunts into your ear, growing harder with every breathy moan that leaves your lips. “Are you my pretty baby doll tonight?” 

All he gets his a broken moan of his name in response. He chuckles to himself as he lifts your leg up slightly and continues to fuck you silly behind the nightclub. He knew you had a devious side.

NATSUO - You were just the cute girl in his class that he couldn’t stop thinking about. 

You would walk in wearing the cutest outfits known to man, all of them with pink tossed in. His favorite one was the cropped pink sweater and white skirt that swished around your legs and hiked up slightly in the back to give him a sneak peek of your thighs. That was the first day you two met. You had sat in front of him and rummaged around in your backpack, oblivious to Natsuo burning a hole in your back. 

You sighed adorably and turned to him randomly, your glossy lips in an adorable pout that had his cock stirring in his jeans. “Hi,” you say with a smile. “Sorry to bug you, but I forgot my pen at home. Do you have one I can borrow?” 

It took a minute for Natsuo to answer because he was too busy staring at your lips move, envisioning his dick between them. “U-Uh, yeah,” he finally replied, idiotically so. He dug into his backpack and handed you one of his best ink pens. 

You happily smiled as you took the pen from him, your soft fingers grazing against his. “Thanks!” you chirped. “I promise I’ll give it back to you at the end of the day.” And you did. That is when your friendship began. He begins letting you borrow your pens while you send him notes from class if he’s too tired to pay attention and falls asleep during class, dreaming of himself bending you over one of the desks. 

When you first asked him to help you study for your midterm exam, he can’t believe his luck. “You’re just so smart,” you whine as you two walk alongside each other in the hall. “I can’t afford to fail, so I need your help. Meet you at your dorms this weekend? I’ll bring snacks!” 

He was helpless to refuse you, but the idea of being alone with you this weekend made him want to bust and hide under his bed at the same time. He didn’t have that much experience with girls, especially pretty, cute, adorable ones like you. He spends the whole day cleaning up his space and gargling down Listerine mouthwash before you arrive. 

When you do, it’s at 5 PM after you get off your shift. You show up at his door in a pretty, baby pink dress carrying a bag of snacks and sodas. “Thanks for letting me come over,” you say after Natsuo invites you in and get you situated at the table in the middle of his dorm. “I just know I’m gonna pass with you as a tutor.” 

He blushes at the compliment. How is it you’re so sweet? “S’cool,” he chuckles sheepishly. “I’m happy to help. Thank you for the snacks though.” He ogles at the all of the snacks you pour out of your bag––Pocky boxes; chips; cookies; biscuits. You embarrassingly giggle, picking at your pink nails. “I, uh…like snacks,” you shyly confess. 

‘Oh, God,’ Natsuo laments in his head as his cock surges in his sweats. Why the fuck did he wear sweats?! Why the fuck are you so cute?! This is not going to be easy. 

It doesn’t get any easier for him as the night goes on. He gets distracted at some points at the crumbs dusting the corner of your mouth or the way you swipe your gloss over your lips. He tries not to freak out when you lean in to point out words you’re having trouble remembering the definitions for, the scent of your birthday cake body wash and the feeling of your bosom against his forearm. Are you doing this on purpose? 

Despite him explaining and breaking down the study guide for you, all he can think about is dirtying up your dress with his cum or plunging his cock in and out of the gushy walls of your pussy. It’s impossible not to. He’s practically sweating halfway during the session so he has to strip himself of his hoodie, revealing his blue tee underneath that stretches across his muscles. 

When you finally finish the session, it’s around 7 PM and you’ve correctly remembered most of the guide. When Natsuo gives you an approving smile, you squeal and jump on him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you cheer, wrapping your arms tight around him. He blushes, feeling your breasts pushing against his chest. “You’re such a good tutor! I’m gonna ace this exam because of you!” 

Natsuo laughs at your cuteness, giving you a one-armed hug in respect to you. “It’s no problem,” he says. “It helps when you have such a great student.” 

You pull away from him, peering up at him with those big eyes and that pretty face. “You know,” you say, your voice suddenly dipping an octave but still oh-so soft, “I’d hate to leave here and not repay you for such great work.” Your hands find his and you begin playing with his fingers, his cock stirring as you do. “Is there anyway you can think of, Natsuo?” you ask, batting your lashes prettily at him. 

Oh, does he. And he knows you exactly what when he has you lying down in his bed with your dress hiked up on your hips where his hands are and his tongue finally fucking your pussy. “Fuck, Natsuo!” you whine, your hands in his snow-white hair. “Please!” 

He moans as he pulls his tongue out of your wet hole and stares up at you. “Stop what, honey?” he asks, smiling at your blissful expression. “You wanted this, didn’t you? To repay me?”

His thumb finds your clit and begins slowly rubbing it, relishing the way you squirm for him. “Well, now you can.”