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pearlymel · 2 months

Note

Hiii!!

Love your work!! If you’re available, could you please write hc’s of Jing Yuan, Natasha, Kafka, Boothill, Jiaoqiu (OOC is fine!!), Sampo, Gallagher, March 7th, and/or Serval with a reader with low blood sugar? Huge self-indulgent comfort ask, but it might resonate with a lot of other people!

My DM’s are open if you ever would like to learn some major symptoms of blood sugar drops. You absolutely do not have to do all of these characters, just giving you some ideas! Have a wonderful day/night!! ☺️💕

Synopsis: headcanons of the hsr character and reader with a low blood sugar.

Includes: Boothill, Jiaoqiu (might be ooc), Jing yuan, Gallagher, and March 7th.

Notes: i didn't add all of them because i usually write up to 5 characters or so (gonna create my rules sometime this week). But thank you for the request, lovey! I had so much fun writing this, i love writing and exploring new things :) i hope it was to your expectations, and sorry if the symptoms were inaccurate (google was my help i was too shy to dm.)

↳ BOOTHILL.

—we all should agree that this man is a caring lover, although i see him as the type to forget that you're not like him. You're not metal and scraps like him, and that you're a human being who needs a lil extra care.

—he doesn't think much of it when you first tell him that you tend to have low blood sugar, he even asks random strangers at bars he goes to about this sickness.

Boothill loves all types of fun to do with you, and tonight, you suggested you both dance.

Seeing the hint of a smile gracing your lips when you try hiding it by pressing your face on shoulder, Boothill grins. And he makes no attempt to hide his delight, he tightens his grip on your frame, holding you carefully but firmly against his chest.

"Well now, ain't I a lucky devil," he drawls, the evident sarcasm was in his tone, "Looks like I'm gettin' the chance to dance with a lovely person who shares my love for tryin' new things. I must be doin' somethin' right."

Silly, you think. "You were simply just you. And i love being with you."

Boothill grins, his eyes softening at the edges as he gazes down at you.

"Well now, ain't that a sweet thing to say," he replies, his voice gruff yet affectionate. "I ain't used to hearin' such sweet talk, to be honest." He pauses for a beat, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly.

"But hearin' it from you, it's nice," he continued before pulling you a bit closer against him.

You laugh along with him, bringing your hand to brush your fingertips along his hair, your other hand over the metallic surface of his chest before you slow your movements, you feel dizzy. No, it's not from how much you both were spinning, you both were going slow and careful.

It doesn't go unnoticed by him with the shift in your demeanor, a subtle change in your movements that indicates something is amiss.

"You okay there, darlin'?" he asks, his brow furrowing as he looks down at you. He can feel something amiss with you physically.

"Lightheaded." You mumble, holding onto him. "You... You have uhm.. anything sweet i can take?" He gives you a nod, "Reach into my pocket, I'm sure there's a candy sitting there," he explains, guiding your hand to his pocket, taking it calmly.

You give him a small smile when you reach for his side pocket to grab the singular wrapped candy.

Your fingers fumbles with the wrapper before you pop it in your mouth, sucking on the strawberry flavoured candy while resting your cheek on his shoulder.

"Doin' a little better there?"

"Yeah, thanks my hero."

"Don't you go gettin' all sweet on me now," he mutters with that of gruffness, though he smiles. "You're the one who's supposed to keep me from goin' all soft."

↳ GALLAGHER.

—Oh he's ready 24/7 whenever the situation calls for it. He takes this very seriously and will make sure no funny jokes were made about it, because they're certainly not funny to him and he will kick ass if anyone makes it harder on you than it should be.

What a sight for sore eyes. Truly. And no, he's not talking about the view, he's glancing back at you where you sat while looking up at the skies, your head titled as if you're so immersed.

"Anything on your mind?" He was the first to speak as he approaches you, "A lot of things.. clouding my head." You half shrug, watching him as he takes a seat next to you with a can of some carbonated drink on his side, and you hear the slight hiss of it when he open it with his finger. The carbonated drink fizzes a little between his finger and thumb as he pops the tab open, taking a small sip from it before turning his attention back to you.

His crimson eyes were on the direction you were trying to look at but he can't find what's so interesting about tonight's sky.

“I'm willing to stay here all night and listen.” He reassures you.

"Mhm," you stare blankly ahead now, almost zoning out, and you don't notice how sweaty you're starting to feel, or how your heart starts racing.

Gallagher's eyes narrow as he notices your almost zombie like look of a thousand yard stare. The way you look unmoving and not even acknowledging him.

He doesn't say anything and just hands you his drink, gently tapping the can on your arm to bring back your attention. You don't hesitate to grab it, taking small fast sips.

"Careful," he helps you straighten your back, drinking while slouching isn't exactly good.

You sigh when you hold the can with both hands now, letting it rest on your lap, "Thank you—"

"When was the last time you ate today?" He gently cuts you off.

"Earlier."

“And can you confirm that ‘earlier’ wasn’t hours ago?” He asked, his voice now firm but he tries to stay calm.

"I'm sleepy." You brush his question off instead, looking at him while blinking slowly as you lean to rest your head on the side of his shoulder. Gallagher watches you, letting out a soft scoff at how you tried to change the subject. He knew he wasn’t going to get an answer from you, but he also wasn’t going to let you just avoid the problem either.

"We're having dinner after your little nap, deal?"

↳ MARCH 7TH.

—March.. panics when she finds out for the first time. She asks you if you were okay, if you wanted anything, even when you try to reassure her that you felt fine at times, she wouldn't be convinced until you stay under her watch. She bugs Dan Heng to tell her all the possible symptoms so she wouldn't panic more than she should.

Today, you were March's model for photography, well you always are her model because she says you're the best fit for it.

She lets you try out fun clothes and you shyly and awkwardly try to pose in front of the camera at first, but then you immediately gain the confidence after a few more clicks. Smiling and posing while trying out all the fun combinations of colours and clothes.

She looked at you, wearing clothes she had picked out for you. You looked absolutely beautiful.

The enthusiastic girl was blushing a lot as she kept taking pictures of you, giggling behind the camera even.

"March, mind if i sit down for a bit?" You hated to stop her from her enthusiasm, but you feel lightheaded almost. And you were sure it's not from the flashes.

March immediately stopped taking photos and set her camera down when you asked.

She placed a gentle hand onto your forehead, seeing if you had a fever first. "Are you feeling sick?"

"No, don't panic. I just feel lightheaded. Do you have anything sweet i can take?"

Okay, she is prepared for this, "You're low on blood sugar, are you?" She asked, concerned. March then grabbed a small candy—a lollipop, to be exact—from the camera case and offered it out to you.

"And you came prepared." You try teasing, and she nodded with a light laugh. It was a nice-looking sweet lemon-flavored lolliop.

"I carry them with me just in case!" She replied, You both sit down together, she takes out another lollipop for herself so you wouldn't feel left out.

"We can take pictures while eating these lollipops."

March nodded in agreement with your idea, she was happy that you even said that, it meant taking pictures together for an hour now wasn't boring you out.

Then, she pulled out her camera again, a grin forming on her face, "That's a good idea! Alright, on the count of three—" she pulls the lollipop out, posing as if kissing the candy while you smile widely as the camera clicks on both of you.

↳ JIAOQIU.

—sooo, he's a healer. Then that means we all can agree that he's the attentive lover, and strictly cares about your health and diet, but i feel like he'd be playful about it at times.

You don't remember sleeping for so long when you woke up rather confused, shuffling around the blankets and sitting up on the bed while rubbing your head.

Your fault for skipping breakfast and going straight into your work or chores for today.

You fail to notice at first the pink haired figure next to you, sitting beside the bed so silently that it makes you gasp when you turn around to see him.

He was holding a spoonful of some red liquid that you're sure is spicy concoction. He looks at you expectantly, a hint of mischief behind his closed eyes.

“Say ahh,” he says quietly, enjoying the moment. But you almost try not to laugh.

"What happened exactly?" You ask him, refusing to still take that.. extremely dark red soup. It was so dark you can almost smell the spice in the air.

"Someone forgot to eat their meal i prepared earlier," he hums, still trying to pry his spoon closer to your lips, "so i had to find myself misfortune in the of finding you almost unconscious. You're lucky i was carrying some sweet herbs with me." And you frown at his next words, you want to apologize for how he must've been worried.

As if sensing your next words, he smiles, "none of that. Now, open up." He offers you the spoonful again but you pull your face away.

"Are you sure you're not trying to kill me next?"

Jiaoqiu pretends to pout. His fox ears prick and he gives you a slight pout, "You're so dramatic," he says, his tail flicking with amusement. He holds up the spoon again, still waiting for you to open your mouth.

"My soup will fix your blood sugar. Trust me, it's a secret recipe," Jiaoqiu says with a sly smirk.

"What if it tastes bad?" You regret the words leaving your mouth, because he opens his eyes and stares at you with an almost hurt expression. You take the spoonful in your mouth without another complaint, and he hums in approval while closing back his eyes.

The flavours almost explode in your mouth, it.. wasn't spicy at all. It was rather sweet and savoury.

"You tricked me, it's not spicy at all."

"I never said it was spicy, though." He tilts his head, feigning innocence and confusion.

Despite his antics, you instantly feel better, although he doesn't allow you to feed yourself, he'll do it for you.

↳ JING YUAN.

—This man would spoil you rotten. You're feeling unwell? He would love to take the day off and just look after you, although there is a doctor on the side in case anything gets serious. You're simply tired not because of your low sugar levels, but just because you were? He would gladly invite you in his arms or simply sit next to you while you both chat nonstop about eachother's days if that's what will make you feel better.

You were panting when you decided to train alone in the training grounds, Yanqing offered to train with you but you insisted that you needed that full concentration.

After a while, you do feel exhausted and worn out. The spear dropping from your hands as you bend a bit to rest your hands on your knees to catch some breath.

"Now, now, if you want to get stronger, you'll also need a break." Jing Yuan's call for you is what makes you huff out a chuckle. In his hands is what looked to be a bowl of fruits with a water bottle on the other.

"i wanted to build some muscle." You tell him when he gives you that look whenever you start training alone. It's not that he's against your wishes of wanting to be stronger for your own good, but he wishes Yanqing was atleast there to watch you.

"And, I'm not a baby." You roll your eyes playfully and he lets out a deep laugh. "Eat up." You take the orange first, but he was quick to take it from your hands to peel it for you, so you take the grape instead.

You as well take the bottle, gulping down almost the whole thing. Water has never tasted this good.

"You're not a baby, but you drool like one." You almost glare at his words and he only grins while wiping the excess water and fruit juice off the corner of your lips with his thumb. "That was mean, General." You raise both of your eyebrows at him, he only pats your head back, pulling you in with his arm to just hold you.

"when the time comes, you'll be strong enough to protect me."

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail fluff #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr headcanons #hsr hcs #jiaoqiu #jiaoqiu x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #march 7th #march 7th x reader #boothill #boothill x reader #gallagher #Gallagher x reader #hsr x you #headcanons #dia answers.

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urhoneycombwitch · 6 months

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sweet.

Steve x reader smut, 1.3k

foreword: u know that scene from Euphoria where Elliot makes out with Jules’ hand as if it was her pussy… anyways Steve Harrington take it away!!! 🎤 (dedicated to 🦊 anon thank u for your wisdom)

___

Sure, the drinking and the dancing is a good way to pass the time, but you’re partial to the end-of-night rituals you and Steve have settled into over the years. Your personal afterparty usually involves a shitty romcom, occasionally some weed, and always snacks both sweet and salty to soak up the alcohol.

Steve’s parents are out of town again, so the two of you are down in the basement den, passing a joint between fingers sticky with candy film.

From all your years of reading Steve’s body language you can tell he’s pretty high- feet planted on the ground but head lolling against the back of the couch, hands lax at his sides. There’s a dopey grin on his face- practically primed for a shitty joke or annoying comment- and you let the smoke out with a huff, asking on the exhale, “What?”

“You owe me five bucks.” Steve presses the side of his head into the couch, looking at you with red-rimmed eyes, still smiling.

You scoff, leaning in to pass the joint back and swiping a handful of gummy bears from the coffee table while you’re at it. “Since fucking when?”

“Since I bought this from Eddie.” Steve waves the weed for emphasis before taking another hit, smoke curling from his nostrils. “You’re matching me in pace, princess. This joint was ten bucks- ergo, you owe me five.”

You cackle despite yourself- “Ergo? You’ve been watching too many Perry Mason reruns.” You know Steve’s not actually gonna make you pay for the weed, he’s just trying to rile you up, and the fact that it’s not working is getting under his skin.

He shrugs a shoulder, just shy of pouting. “Point still stands.”

“Well, you shoulda let me buy from him. Eddie always gives me discounts. On account of these.” Here, you straighten your spine and gesture to your chest- after all the night’s activity, your boobs are practically spilling out of your bra and t-shirt combo, skin glowing in the muted TV’s light.

Steve blinks, clears his throat, and busies himself by ashing the joint into a spare candy wrapper. “Uh huh. Right. I’ll be sure to remember your tits the next time I’m talking to Munson.”

“At least someone will be thinking of them.” You mean it as a joke, but your voice is a bit too mournful to be taken lightly.

“Ah, and you’ve been picking such winners, recently,” Steve intones, dryly. The pillow launched at his head in your poor attempt to hit him is easily batted away. “C’mon, sweetheart. You’ve been going out with total losers. Aaron Conroy? Jamie Porter? Wouldn’t trust either of those guys to find their own dicks. Let alone your whole… business.”

Steve’s aborted gesture to the general area of your jeans makes you guffaw. “Oh, and you’re the reigning expert on girls’ business?”

“Sure am. King Steve, after all.” Said king juts an overeager thumb into his chest, winces, then gives his hand a little shake.

“Mmhm.” You slide across the couch cushions to take the joint again, knee knocking into Steve’s. “I’m pretty good at it too, y’know.”

Steve stares with wide eyes as you suck smoke into your lungs, blinking owlishly before stuttering- “You- you’re saying you’re pretty good at eating pu- at eating girls out?”

Another cackle looses from your chest along with the smoke, you can’t help it- Steve looks so properly shocked. “No, Steve, obviously I meant sucking dick. Not that I’d be opposed, per se, to a girl’s… business.”

The word drips in irony and Steve scrubs a hand down his face in irritation as you settle against the couch next to him, brushing shoulders as you continue. “Just aren’t enough girls in Hawkins to go for. Who are both out and not my friends,” you amend, before Robin can be dragged into the conversation against her will.

“You wouldn’t go down on a friend?” Steve fidgets a strip of paper Clark Bar wrapper between his fingers, crinkling quietly while he waits for your answer.

The weed has settled in your system now, a haze in your veins as you stub the roach out and leave it on the coffee table. You settle back into the couch, suddenly aware of every point of contact- thigh to thigh, arm to arm, shoulder to shoulder with Steve, who’s seemingly paused his breathing.

“Uhm. Yeah. I’d sleep with a friend,” you say, staring at your lap, empty hands twisting around themselves.

The tension of the moment swells, you can feel it in your chest, even as Steve draws in a breath to muse, “Wonder who’s better at it.”

“Eating girls out?” You look at him to confirm, feeling a pang when you see the lock of chestnut hair that’s flopped from its place to rest against his forehead. “I mean… probably you. Seeing as you’ve got the most experience.”

Steve smiles, lazily, tipping his head in acknowledgement, then says, “I could teach you. If you wanted.”

If Steve feels the way you stiffen in response to his words he doesn’t point it out, instead tossing the wrapper aside in favor of taking your hand into his. “Only if you wanted, though.”

You start nodding before the words can come; a shaky “Okay,” and Steve’s wrapping two warm palms around your right hand, manipulating your fingers into making a fist.

“I like to start with kissing,” he says, voice low, gaze fixed on your combined hands. “Y’know. To work her up, get her wet.”

It’s not even technically dirty talk, but the pitch of Steve’s words make your thighs clench involuntarily, seeking friction. Steve brings your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the base of your thumb, and your breath hitches.

“And then I… usually…” Steve trails off, and you can see the gears turning in his head at how best to teach. Apparently, he pegs you for a hands-on learner, because instead of words, he dips down to lick a stripe up the flat of your thumb.

Your mouth falls open as Steve licks deftly into the crease made by your thumb and index finger, curling the point of his tongue near the base again, your clit throbbing in response as if he was actually between your legs.

Steve makes out with your hand for what feels like hours, all sense of time warped by the heady weed. His mouth is warm and wet, saliva dripping through to your palm as he holds you in place despite your squirming.

What’s really turning you on is how into this Steve appears to be- his eyes are closed as if to savor the moment, brow pinched with pleasure, little noises from the back of his throat sending vibrations down your arm.

You fight the urge to sink your free hand into those silky brown locks; instead, your nails bite into soft skin as you clench a fist at your side, willing the subtle movement of your hips with each stroke of Steve’s tongue to stay subtle.

There’s an obscene squelching noise filling the otherwise quiet basement, and this seems to spur Steve on, suckling at your sensitive skin, heat coursing through your body as you gasp out, “Steve…”

He pulls off your hand with a wet pop, a string of saliva still connecting you both, his mouth a glistening half-moon in the low light before he swipes the back of his hand across it. “So. Yeah. Something like that. You taste good, by the way. Sweet.”

You fight with the hinge of your lower jaw to put it back in its place, breathing heavily as you wipe your slick-coated hand against the leg of your jeans. It leaves a wet patch- likely not the only one, if the heartbeat between your legs is any indication. “Probably the gummy bears.”

“Uh huh. You think you’re any better?” Steve’s got that easy grin back on his face, cheeks rosy, lips flushed with color, too.

A quick glance down confirms that he’s hard as a rock, sizeable outline of his cock visible through the denim, betraying the bravado in his stance.

Oh, you’re gonna wreck him.

With an easy grin of your own, you reach for Steve’s hand. “Dunno. Wanna find out?”

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington smut #18+ mdni

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lila-lou · 6 months

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✨Beyond saving - Pt. 5 (The End)✨

Summary: I hate summaries, so this is part 5 of "Beyond saving".

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only!, Smut, soft dean

Word Count: 6064

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

You eyed Dean uncertainly, unsure of what to think about Jodie's suggestion. Sam, however, chimed in enthusiastically.

"That's a great idea", he exclaimed, nodding in agreement.

With Jodie's plan in motion, Sam, Dean, and you went to pack some stuff for the trip.

Jodie held Sam's wrist gently, stopping him in his tracks as you and Dean made your way towards the Impala. She leaned in close, her voice quiet but firm.

"Maybe it's best to let them have some alone time", she murmured softly, her gaze flickering towards you and Dean. "They need this time together".

Sam nodded, understanding the wisdom in Jodie's words. With a reassuring smile, he turned away, giving you and Dean the space you needed.

As Dean kept his eyes on you, the tension in the car palpable, he finally broke the silence. "I love you", he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity and vulnerability. He held out his hand towards you, a silent invitation for you to take it if you wanted.

You felt a surge of emotion welling up inside you at his words, his gesture melting away some of the barriers between you. With a small smile, you reached out and gently clasped his hand in yours, the warmth of his touch sending a comforting wave of reassurance through you.

After a while Dean pulled into a gas station to refuel and grab some snacks, while you remained asleep, your breathing steady and peaceful. He carefully filled up the tank and selected a few snacks, including a candy bar for himself.

As he started driving again and opened the candy bar, the rustling of the wrapper stirred you from your slumber. Blinking sleepily, you rubbed your eyes and stretched, the hunger pangs in your stomach reminding you that you needed something to eat.

Dean glanced over at you, a fond smile playing at the corners of his lips as he watched you wake up. "Sleeping beauty finally awakens", he teased gently, holding out the candy bar towards you. "Hungry?".

You chuckled softly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. "Always", you replied with a playful grin, reaching out to take the candy bar from him. "Thanks, Dean".

He nodded, his gaze softening as he focused on the road ahead. "Anytime, sweetheart", he murmured, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "Just trying to keep my girl happy".

You leaned back in your seat, the warmth of Dean's words wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. Closing your eyes for a moment, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, grateful for this moment of simple, quiet contentment with the person you loved.

As you enjoyed the snack, Dean stole glances at you, his smile widening with each passing moment. "You know", he said, his voice soft and playful, "I miss these road trips with you".

You chuckled, a warmth spreading through your chest at his words. "Yeah?", you replied, your eyes meeting his briefly before returning to the passing scenery outside the window. "Even with my constant need for snacks?".

Dean grinned. "Especially with your constant need for snacks", he teased.

Dean's hand found its way back into yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as he squeezed your hand lightly. His gaze softened as he looked at you.

"We're gonna make it, you and me", he said earnestly, his voice filled with conviction. "I'll do anything to make sure of it".

You smiled, feeling a surge of warmth flood through you at his words. "I know", you replied softly, your heart swelling with love for the man beside you.

Two hours later, Dean parked the car in front of the lake house, his eyes scanning the surroundings as he spotted Claire and Alex preparing the fire pit. He turned to look at you, a hint of uncertainty flickering in his gaze.

"Hey", he began, his voice hesitant. "Um, is the plan for tonight still… you know, up?". He swallowed nervously, his fingers fidgeting with the keys in his hand.

Dean's eyes widened slightly at your nod, a mix of relief and anticipation washing over him. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Yeah, uh… I also grabbed some lube from the gas station", he said, his cheeks flushing slightly as he reached into the backseat to retrieve the small bottle. "You know, just in case". He offered you a sheepish smile, his nerves evident despite his attempt at nonchalance.

You chuckled softly, taking the bottle from Dean and inspecting it with a playful grin. "Vanilla flavor, huh?", you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. "Was that on purpose?".

Dean's cheeks flushed even a deeper shade of red, caught off guard by your playful remark. He scratched the back of his neck nervously. "Uh, well… I mean, I figured it might make things a little… you know, sweeter?", he stammered, his words laced with embarrassment.

You chuckled at Dean's flustered response, finding his embarrassment endearing. Leaning in close, you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, your laughter muffled against his mouth.

"You're something else, Dean Winchester", you murmured.

Just as the kiss deepened, Claire and Alex knocked loudly against the window, startling both of you. You jumped back slightly, now your cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you quickly straightened up in your seat.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Dean shot a sheepish glance at you before rolling down the window to greet Claire and Alex.

Claire and Alex grinned mischievously as they leaned in through the open window, their eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Whoa there, lovebirds", Claire teased, nudging Dean playfully with her elbow. "Didn't mean to interrupt anything, did we?".

Alex chimed in with a smirk. "Yeah, didn't know we were getting a free show out here".

Dean chuckled, rolling his eyes good-naturedly as he leaned back in his seat. "You two are never gonna let us live this down, are you?", he quipped, shooting Claire and Alex a playful grin. The two just shook their heads and grinned.

Dean took your bag and slung it over his shoulder, his hand finding its way to the small of your back as he guided you towards the lake house. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, a silent reassurance of his presence by your side.

As you walked together, you couldn't help but steal glances at Dean, feeling a rush of affection swell in your chest. Despite everything you'd been through, his unwavering support and love filled you with a sense of gratitude and hope for the future.

Jodie looked up from the barbecue preparations as she spotted you and Dean entering the kitchen, a playful grin spreading across her face.

"Well, well, well", she teased. "Look who decided to finally grace us with their presence. Did you two make an extra stop along the way?".

Dean chuckled, giving Jodie a mock glare as he draped an arm around your shoulders. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up", he retorted. "We had a few things to take care of on the road, that's all".

You rolled your eyes at their playful teasing, but couldn't help but smile at the warmth and familiarity of the moment. It felt good to be surrounded by friends, to have a chance to relax and enjoy each other's company after everything that had happened.

As everyone sat around the crackling fire pit, enjoying the warmth and camaraderie of the evening, Dean pulled you close against his side, his arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders. He pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his affectionate gesture drawing a playful gag from Claire.

"Ugh, seriously, you two", Claire teased, her tone exaggeratedly dramatic as she feigned disgust. "Could you be any more nauseatingly adorable?".

You chuckled at Claire's teasing, leaning into Dean's embrace as you exchanged a knowing glance with him.

After everyone had finished eating, the atmosphere around the fire pit grew quieter, the conversation tapering off into contented silence. Dean leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered softly.

"Do you want to go to our room?", he murmured, his voice low and filled with longing, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of anticipation.

A shiver ran down your spine as you felt the heat of Dean's breath on your ear, his words igniting a fire within you. You licked your lips, the desire evident in your eyes as you met his gaze.

"Yes", you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, filled with longing and anticipation. "Let's go".

Dean stood up, his hand gently pulling you to your feet as he nodded towards the house. "Come on, sweetheart", he said softly. "Let's head to bed".

As you followed him, Alex couldn't resist teasing. "Have fun, you two", she called out, her voice playful as she winked at you. "Don't keep us up all night!".

Dean chuckled, shooting a playful glance back at Alex over his shoulder. "We'll try to keep the noise down", he quipped with a grin before disappearing into the house with you, his arm around your waist.

As Dean hoisted you over his shoulder, you let out a surprised yelp, the sound echoing through the quiet night air. Laughter erupted from Claire, Alex, Jodie, and Sam as they watched Dean carry you up the stairs, your protests and giggles filling the air.

Sam chuckled, his heart feeling lighter as he watched the scene unfold.

"I don't think anyone's getting any sleep tonight", he remarked.

Jodie joined in the laughter, shaking her head incredulously. "Well, at least they're having fun", she said with a chuckle. "Let's just hope they work everything out".

Sam nodded in agreement, his gaze drifting towards the house where you and Dean had disappeared. He couldn't help but feel hopeful that the two of you would find your way back to each other.

Dean pushed open the door of your room with his foot, his lips curling into a playful smirk as he carried you over the threshold. He carefully set you down on your feet, his hands lingering on your waist for a moment longer than necessary.

You looked up at Dean, your eyes filled with affection and sincerity as you spoke softly, "I love you, Dean".

Dean's smile softened as he gazed into your eyes, his expression filled with affection. "I love you too", he whispered, his voice tinged with sincerity. "And please, if there's ever anything you don't want, just tell me. I'll stop, no questions asked".

His hands rested gently on your waist, pulling you closer as he leaned in to press a tender kiss against your lips.

As Dean's lips met yours, you felt a rush of warmth spread through your body, melting into the kiss. His cologne enveloped you, heightening your senses, while the sensation of his beard stubble against your skin sent shivers down your spine. The kiss intensified, becoming more passionate and fervent with each passing moment.

Dean's lips moved against yours with a tender urgency, his touch gentle yet firm as he sought to convey his love and desire for you. His hands cradled your face delicately, his fingertips tracing the contours of your cheeks with featherlight caresses. With each kiss, he poured his emotions into the moment, his lips moving in a slow, sensual dance with yours.

As the intensity of the kiss deepened, Dean's movements became more deliberate, his lips exploring every inch of yours with a reverence that spoke volumes of his affection. His kisses were soft and lingering, as if he was trying to memorize the feel of your lips against his own. With each press of his mouth against yours, he conveyed his love and devotion, his touch speaking volumes of the tenderness he held for you.

Dean's embrace was warm and protective, his arms enveloping you in a cocoon of safety and love. He held you close, as if afraid to let you go, his touch reassuring and comforting. In that moment, there was no doubt in your mind that Dean would do anything to protect you, to cherish you, and to show you just how much you meant to him.

He pushed you gently towards the bed, his touch firm yet tender as he guided you to the soft mattress below. With a deft movement, he lifted you up and carefully placed you down, his hands supporting you as you settled against the bed.

Once you were nestled on the mattress, Dean hovered over you, his gaze intense as he looked down at you with a mixture of desire and adoration. His body radiated warmth as he leaned in closer, his breath mingling with yours as he brushed his lips against yours in another lingering kiss.

You melted beneath him, the sensation of his weight pressing down on you sending shivers of anticipation down your spine. His touch was electrifying, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body as he trailed kisses along your jawline and down the curve of your neck.

Dean met your gaze with a mixture of longing and reverence as he carefully began to unbutton the flannel shirt you were wearing, his fingers moving with deliberate care as he revealed the soft curves of your naked breasts underneath. With each button undone, his breath hitched in his throat, his eyes drinking in the sight of your exposed skin with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

As the flannel fell away, pooling around your waist, Dean's gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of your bare chest rising and falling with each breath. The vulnerability of the moment hung heavy in the air, but it was tempered by the overwhelming sense of intimacy and connection that flowed between you.

Dean's fingertips traced lightly over your skin.

As he leaned down, his lips met the delicate skin of your neck, his kisses soft and slow as he made his way down to your breasts. With each press of his lips, your heart quickened, the sensation of his warm breath against your skin igniting a fire deep within you.

You gasped softly as Dean's lips finally met the curve of your breast.

Dean's mouth moved with purpose, his kisses growing more urgent as he lavished attention on your sensitive skin. With gentle yet firm movements, he took one of your hardened nipples between his lips, sucking it gently as his tongue swirled around the sensitive bud.

You gasped at the sudden sensation, a wave of pleasure coursing through you as Dean's warm mouth enveloped your nipple. His movements were slow and deliberate, each suck sending jolts of electricity straight to your core.

"Dean", you moaned softly, your fingers tangling in his hair as you arched your back, offering yourself completely to him. The feeling of his lips and tongue on your skin was exquisite, a sweet torture that left you yearning for more.

Dean hummed in response, the vibrations sending delicious shivers down your spine as he continued to lavish attention on your breast. His touch was both tender and demanding.

Dean's lips trailed down your stomach, leaving a trail of hot kisses in their wake. As he reached the waistband of your jeans, he paused, looking up at you with a mixture of desire and reverence in his eyes.

"Can I…?", he murmured softly, as he gestured towards your jeans and panties. His gaze was intense, seeking your permission before proceeding further.

You nodded, a silent affirmation of consent as you met Dean's gaze. He leaned forward, his fingers hooking under the waistband of your jeans and slowly pulling them down, along with your panties, revealing your naked form to him.

Feeling a bit nervous, you couldn't help but tense up slightly as Dean's gaze lingered on your exposed body.

Dean's hands gently rested on your hips as he knelt in front of you.

"You okay?", he asked softly, his voice laced with concern as he waited for your response.

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat as you met Dean's gaze. "Yeah", you whispered. "I'm okay… just a little nervous".

Dean's expression softened with understanding as he reached up, his fingers trailing lightly along your thighs. "We'll take things slow, I promise".

He licked his lips nervously, his hands trembling slightly as he gently spread your legs apart, his fingers tracing along the soft skin of your inner thighs.

His eyes flickered down between your thighs, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of your glistening folds. The heat between you pulsed with a primal urgency, the tension thickening in the air as he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above your core.

You inhaled sharply as Dean's lips made contact with your heat, a shiver running down your spine at the sensation. His touch was gentle yet deliberate, his lips trailing kisses along your sensitive skin with a tender reverence. Each caress sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, igniting a fire deep within your core as you surrendered to the intoxicating sensation.

Dean kissed your folds again, his lips lingering against your delicate skin before his thumb brushed over them, tracing a path from your tight opening up to your sensitive bundle of nerves. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, his touch sending shivers of anticipation coursing through you as he sighed heavily, lost in the moment.

Dean shifted slightly and then pressed a slow, sloppy kiss against your clit. The sensation was electrifying, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. With just that touch, you couldn't hold back any longer. A loud moan escaped your lips as you shuddered underneath him, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as your body was consumed by the overwhelming ecstasy of release.

Dean's eyes widened in amazement as he watched you succumb to the throes of pleasure, your body trembling with the intensity of your climax. His voice was filled with astonishment as he spoke, his words barely above a whisper. "I barely touched you", he murmured, his tone tinged with awe and disbelief.

You chuckled breathlessly, the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through your body as you spoke. "Yeah, it's been a while", you murmured, your voice laced with satisfaction and a hint of amusement.

"Well, looks like I've still got some work to do then", Dean grinned.

Dean lowered his head between your thighs. You gasped as he flicked his tongue teasingly against your swollen clit.

With a deft touch, he added a finger, sliding it inside you slowly, the sensation causing you to arch your back and moan in ecstasy. He moved his tongue in slow circles, alternating between gentle licks and firm sucks, each movement driving you closer to the edge.

As he continued to pleasure you with his mouth and finger, your breath quickened, your fingers digging into the sheets as you surrendered to the overwhelming sensations.

Dean carefully added a second finger, feeling the tightness of your walls as he struggled to push them both inside you. He could feel your body tensing with each movement, the pleasure mixed with a hint of discomfort.

"Easy, sweetheart", he murmured softly, his voice filled with concern as he gently stroked your thigh. "I've got you. Just relax and let me take care of you".

He continued to move his fingers in a slow, steady rhythm, his touch becoming more confident as he felt your body responding to his ministrations. With each thrust, he searched for that perfect angle, determined to bring you the maximum pleasure while ensuring your comfort.

As he worked to stretch and prepare you, his gaze never left your face, his eyes filled with tenderness and a fierce desire to please you. He wanted nothing more than to make this experience as pleasurable and memorable as possible for you, to show you how much he cared for you in every touch and caress.

Feeling your tension continuing, Dean paused for a moment. "It's okay, just breathe", he reassured you softly, his voice filled with warmth and understanding.

With a deep breath, you tried to relax, but the tightness persisted. Sensing your discomfort, Dean leaned down, pressing a tender kiss against your inner thigh before trailing his lips upwards.

As he continued to work, Dean noticed your struggle to relax. With a determined yet gentle touch, he moistened his fingers with his saliva, mixing it with your wetness to ease the way. He made sure to move slowly and carefully, applying just enough pressure to stretch you without causing any pain.

As Dean's fingertips brushed against your G-spot, a jolt of pleasure shot through you, causing your body to arch instinctively towards his touch. At the same time, his lips closed around your clit, sending waves of sensation radiating through you.

Your breath hitched as pleasure surged through every nerve ending, the exquisite sensation overwhelming your senses. You grasped at the sheets beneath you, your nails digging into the fabric as you surrendered to the pleasure Dean was giving you.

Dean's movements became more deliberate, his fingers curling inside you to apply pressure to your G-spot while his tongue flicked and teased your clit with expert precision. Each stroke sent pulses of pleasure coursing through you, building the tension to an almost unbearable peak.

You moaned and whimpered, unable to form coherent words as pleasure consumed you entirely.

But before you could come, he pulled his lips away.

“Not yet, sweetheart. I want to feel you come around me”.

You whimpered in frustration, your body trembling with need as Dean’s fingers withdrew from inside you. Despite your protests, he shifted his position, moving to hover above you once again.

“I want to be inside you when you come”, he murmured as he positioned himself between your legs. “I want to feel you tighten around me".

With a hungered look in his eyes, Dean shed his clothes swiftly, revealing his toned, sculpted body. He knelt before you, his gaze locked with yours as he gave himself a few firm pumps, his arousal evident and pulsing with need.

Reaching for the lube on the nightstand, Dean poured a generous amount into his hand, coating himself thoroughly as he prepared to enter you. His movements were deliberate, yet filled with urgency, aching to feel the connection between you deepen with each touch.

As the wet sounds of Dean pumping his dick with lube filled the room, you couldn't help but tense slightly. Your gaze remained fixed on Dean, watching as he prepared himself.

"I won't do anything you're not comfortable with. Just tell me if you want me to stop", Dean mumbled as he saw your look.

"I trust you, Dean".

With a tender smile, Dean leaned in to press a reassuring kiss against your lips before resuming his preparations. As he positioned himself between your legs once again, you braced yourself for the wave of pleasure and intimacy that was about to wash over you.

Dean's breath hitched as he guided himself inside you, his movements slow and deliberate as he sought to ease his way into your warmth. Despite his gentleness, you couldn't suppress a sharp intake of breath, the sensation of being filled causing a dull ache to bloom deep within you.

"Easy, sweetheart", Dean murmured, his voice strained with effort as he fought to control his own desires. "Just relax for me".

You nodded, trying to obey his instructions as you focused on the sensation of Dean stretching you inch by inch. Each movement sent sparks of discomfort shooting through your body, but you gritted your teeth and bore through it, knowing that Dean needed this connection as much as you did.

Dean's panting grew heavier with each inch of progress, his body trembling with the effort of holding himself back. He met your gaze with a mixture of desire and concern, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress.

"God, you're so tight", he gasped, his voice strained with need as he finally buried himself fully inside you. "Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?".

You clenched your jaw, determined not to let the pain overwhelm you. "I'm okay", you whispered, your voice trembling with effort. "Just give me a moment".

As you both took a moment to adjust to the sensation of being joined together. Despite the discomfort, you knew that this moment was precious, a testament to the strength of your bond with Dean.

Dean leaned down, pressing tender kisses along your jawline as his body stilled inside you, giving you the time you needed to adjust to the intimacy between you. With each gentle touch of his lips, he tried to push aside the memories of how he had hurt you, focusing instead on the overwhelming love and desire he felt for you in this moment.

As Dean's lips brushed against yours, you felt a surge of emotion welling up inside you, a longing to be closer to him than ever before. With each kiss, each caress, you allowed yourself to let go of the past and embrace the present, reveling in the sensation of finally feeling each other this intensely again.

Dean’s lips trailed from your jaw down to your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses in their wake. His breath was hot against your skin as he whispered, “Can I move, sweetheart?”.

You nodded, a small gasp escaping your lips as you felt him begin to shift inside you.

Dean slowly pulled out, his movements deliberate and controlled, before gently pushing back inside. Your jaw clenched in response to the sensation, a mixture of pain and pleasure.

With both of his hands planted firmly beside your head, Dean began to move with a steady rhythm. Your hands found their way to his biceps, gripping them tightly as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure of being with him.

Despite the lingering discomfort, the sensation of Dean filling you completely washed over you, leaving you gasping for breath as waves of pleasure rippled through your body.

Dean's voice was husky with desire as he whispered, "You okay, sweetheart?"-

You nodded, a soft moan escaping your lips as you lost yourself in the intensity of the moment.

Dean's breath hitched as he praised you, his voice a low, husky murmur against your ear. "You feel so good, sweetheart", he grunted, his words punctuated by the tightness and intensity of the sensation. "So damn tight… fuck, I've missed this".

Each word was accompanied by a thrust and Dean's movements became more purposeful as he searched for that sweet spot within you.

“There it is”, he grunted, a soft grin tugging at the corners of his lips as he felt the intensity of your reaction. With each thrust, the head of his cock brushed against it, your body responded eagerly to his touch, arching up to meet him as he continued to hit that perfect spot with each rhythmic thrust.

With each thrust, Dean pushed you closer and closer to the edge until finally, you couldn't hold back any longer. A loud moan escaped your lips as your walls clenched tightly around him, pulsing with the intensity of your release.

Feeling you tighten around him sent Dean over the edge as well, his control slipping away as he succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure. With a low groan, he buried himself deep inside you, his hips bucking against yours as he found his own release.

Dean panted heavily above you, his body slick with sweat as he slowly began to soften inside you. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he tried to catch his breath.

"Damn, sweetheart", he murmured. "That was… incredible".

You smiled up at him.

"Yeah", you agreed softly. "It was".

The two of you lay there for a moment, reveling in the intimacy and connection you shared, before Dean pressed a tender kiss to your lips.

Dean rolled off of you, his arms immediately wrapping around you as he pulled you close. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his touch tender and loving as he held you against his chest.

"You okay?", he asked again and brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

You nodded, snuggling closer to him as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. "Yeah", you whispered. "I'm more than okay".

Two hours later, you were on top and as you rode Dean with a fervent rhythm, your bodies moving in perfect sync, the heat between you intensified with each thrust. Dean's hands tightened around your waist, guiding your movements as you found a pace that drove both of you wild.

His breath was hot as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips brushing against your skin with each exhale. You could feel the tension building in his body, his efforts to hold back his release evident in the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch.

You leaned into his embrace, relishing in the feeling of being so intimately connected with him.

With each movement, your moans filled the room, a symphony of pleasure echoing off the walls. Your palms pressed against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your touch as you drove him deeper into ecstasy.

Dean's own moans mingled with yours, his voice a low, guttural sound of desire as he surrendered himself to the sensations coursing through his body. He held you close, his grip tightening around your waist.

Despite the exhaustion weighing heavily on your bodies, neither of you could bear to stop, the magnetic pull between you too strong to resist.

In the midst of your shared ecstasy, Dean's voice broke through the haze of pleasure, husky with desire as he murmured, "I can't… I can't stop, baby. Not yet…".

You echoed his sentiment with a breathless plea, your voice filled with need as you begged for more, unable to imagine a moment without the intoxicating sensation of him filling you completely.

But as you tightened around him, a low groan escaped Dean's lips, his hands gripping your waist with renewed urgency. His breath hitched as he fought to maintain control, each clench of your muscles driving him closer to the brink of release.

"Fuck", he muttered, his voice strained with desire. "You feel so good, baby. Keep going…".

You responded with a fervent nod, your movements becoming more frenzied.

As the intensity between you escalated, Dean's hips met yours with a relentless rhythm, each thrust driving you both higher and closer to the edge.

"That's it, baby. Just like that", he murmured.

You responded with a gasp, your nails digging into his chest as pleasure surged through you.

As the wave of pleasure crashed over you, you clenched around Dean with an intensity that sent him over the edge. Your walls pulsed rhythmically around him, coaxing him closer and closer to his own release.

With a guttural groan, Dean's body tensed beneath you as he succumbed to the ecstasy washing over him. His hips met yours one final time, driving himself deep inside you as he spilled his essence, his orgasm merging with yours in a symphony of bliss.

Your bodies trembled with the aftershocks of pleasure, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you clung to each other in the aftermath. The intensity of the moment left you both spent and sated, wrapped in the warm embrace of your shared passion.

Sam chuckled softly as he joined Jodie in the kitchen, noticing the fatigue etched into her features.

"Can't sleep either?", he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Jodie let out a tired sigh, a weary smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "By this noise? Not a chance", she replied as she gestured vaguely in the direction of your room where you and Dean were undoubtedly still lost in each other's embrace.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, seems like they’re making up for lost time”.

Jodie chuckled, shaking her head. "Quiet the reunion they're having, huh?".

Sam chuckled, handing jodie a beer. "Yeah, that's one way to put it".

Jodie let herself sink into a chair, rubbing her temples.

Just then, Claire joined them. "Seriously, did you guys hear them? It's like a full-blown production next door", she muttered.

Jodie groaned, shaking her head. "Tell me about it. I don't think we'll ever get any sleep with those two going at it". Sam chuckled, taking a sip of his beer. "Well, at least they're happy", he remarked, trying to lighten the mood.

Claire rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but do they have to be so loud about it? I feel like I'm in a bad rom-com". Jodie chuckled, rubbing her temples further. "I just hope they wear themselves out soon. I don't think I can handle another night of this".

Sam nodded in agreement, glancing towards the ceiling where the faint sounds of your passionate reunion could still be heard.

That’s when Dean, just clothed in some sweatpants tried to tiptoed down the stairs, getting a bottle of water. A pleased grin of his face. He stopped in his tracks as he spotted Sam, Jodie and Claire with smirks and raised eyebrows looking at him

He froze mid-step. Clearing his throat awkwardly, Dean attempted to play it cool. "Uh, hey guys", he greeted them, trying to act nonchalant as he reached for a bottle of water.

"Late-night workout, Dean?", Jodie quipped, her tone dripping with amusement.

Dean's cheeks flushed slightly, but he couldn't suppress the satisfied grin that tugged at the corners of his lips. "Something like that", he replied, his voice laced with a mixture of embarrassment and pride.

Sam chuckled, giving Dean a playful pat on the back. "Well, it's good to see you both working things out".

"Just try to keep it down next time, will ya?", Jodie joked.

"No promises", he replied with a grin, before retreating back upstairs with his bottle of water, leaving the others in the kitchen.

As Dean stepped back into the room, he shed his sweatpants and approached the bed, his gaze softening as he looked at your half-asleep form. Climbing back into bed, he brushed a strand of hair gently away from your face, his touch tender and affectionate.

"Hey, sweetheart", he murmured softly, his voice filled with warmth. "You should drink something before you go to sleep. I brought you some water".

You blinked groggily, your tired eyes fluttering open as Dean offered you the bottle of water. Taking it with a grateful sigh, you lifted it to your lips and took a few slow sips, feeling the cool liquid soothing your parched throat.

"Thanks, Dean", you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so tired… I feel like I could sleep for a week".

Your muscles ached from the intensity of your earlier activities, and exhaustion weighed heavily on your limbs. All you wanted was to sink into the comforting embrace of sleep, wrapped in Dean's arms.

Dean lay down beside you, pulling you close against his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around you. As you snuggled into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, a sense of peace washed over you.

"I've got you", Dean whispered softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "Just relax. I'll be right here".

You sighed contentedly, nuzzling closer to him. "I love you", you murmured sleepily, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull you into a sense of security. "I love you too", Dean whispered back, his voice filled with tenderness. "Sweet dreams, sweetheart".

———————————

A/N: That´s it <3 Please let me know what you think.🥰

Taglist: @mayafatimakhan

#jensen ackles #supernatural #spn #deanwinchtser #dean x you #dean x reader #sam and dean #dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n #sam winchester #smut #fluff

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wizard-on-whales · 23 days

Text

Naughty Girl

(NSFW)

Attending a Metallica concert was a dream of yours and lucky for you, your mom had gotten you tickets as a college graduation gift, what you didn't expect was to get a gift from none other than James hetfield himself

Warnings: Age gap, smut, blowjob, pet names, lots of dirty talk, size kink, I think something possessed me when I wrote this

Word count: 3k

✭-----------------------------✭

This was for sure the most excited you had ever been over anything. Metallica had been your all time favorite band since you were a kid and now you were on the way to one of their concerts, and you had pit tickets on top of that. You patiently waited in line for hours just for a chance to get rail and somehow you did and it was right in front of James spot. You clung to that thing like your life depended on it. Your friend was next to you, just as ecstatic as she had been obsessed with them for years too. The only difference was she loved Kirk, you loved James. You watched Chad as he pulled out James guitars, tuning it up just as the iconic AC/DC song started blasting through the stadium. Your heart started racing in excitement, knowing the concert was minutes away from starting.

Cheers from the crowd picked up, hands flying over the railing and all around you as James makes his appearance, walking up to his station. You held your hand out, desperate for just one touch. His cigar hung from his lips, a necklace fastened around his neck which was proudly exposed by a halfway unbuttoned shirt. His eyes flicked towards yours, his mouth curling to a smile as he grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze. You couldn't hold back the scream that escaped from your lips, causing him to laugh before moving onto the next person. He stopped his greetings, sitting down in his chair while The Ecstasy of Gold played. He took a sip of his drink, taking one last drag of his cigar before taking his Flying V from Chad and sprinting up the stairs of the stage, the first notes of Creeping Death blaring through the stadium.

The concert really was the greatest night of your life, each song they played somehow better than the last. The sound of James' voice ringing through your ears in person was better than you had ever imagined. And just as he got off of the stage for the night his eyes connected with yours again and he grabbed your hand, sliding his soaking wet sweatband onto your arm. He gave you a wink before walking off, leaving you a mess of screams and tears.

You and your friend walked through the city and back to your hotel room, the excitement from the concert still buzzing through you. She goes up to the room before you, leaving you in the lobby as you stare at the small concession stand, hungry for a snack. James' arm band was clinging to your arm, still damp with his sweat. You look down at it, a smile crossing your face as you fiddle with the black fabric. You look back at the snacks, reaching for the last snickers bar but a tattooed hand grabs it before you could. You freeze, instantly recognizing the knuckle tattoos and the “Papa Het” plastered on the hand. You look to your side and see him standing there in all his glory. You were sure your face was bright red as you froze in place, staring at him in disbelief.

“Did you enjoy the concert?” He asks casually, ripping the candy wrapper open and splitting it in half, offering you part of it.

“Yeah..it was great,” You squeak out, still unable to move. A smirk crossed his face, his eyes flickering up and down your appearance before he waves the candy bar in front of your face, trying to get you to take it. You break out of your trance and timidly reach for it, taking it from his fingers. The chocolate had melted a little against his fingers, causing him to suck it off, his eyes not leaving yours.

“How old are you?” He questions, taking a bite of the candy and leaning against the counter. By now he had changed out of his concert attire, settling on a more casual outfit of blue jeans and a Motorhead T-shirt. That didn't stop him from looking any less attractive though, if anything, he looked even sexier. His silver hair and tattoos shone brightly against the tight, black fabric of his shirt.

“I'm 22,” You say shyly, looking down at the chocolate in your own hand before taking a bite of it. A strand of the caramel drips from it, dripping down your chin. You wipe it off with your finger, licking it off, trying to ignore James’ intense gaze.

“You're just a baby,” He chuckles, glancing away from you to the floor. You could tell he was debating with himself in his head. You wondered for a second what it could be, your mind going to a dirty place but you try to shake it off. He was older now, you assumed groupies were a thing in the past for him.

“Yeah…I guess so…but I've always been told I'm mature for my age,” You reply to his comment. He glanced back up at you, checking you out again but not so subtly this time. He pushes himself away from the counter and takes a step closer to you. It's only then do you smell him for the first time, his natural musk and cologne made it hard for you to hold yourself back. All you wanted to do was leap on the man and fuck him right there.

“This your hotel?” He questions, popping the last bit of the chocolate into his mouth.

“Yeah, I'm staying here with my friend.” Your heart races In your chest, your palms sweaty as he steps even closer. You could feel the heat radiating from him at this point. His eyes look intently over your face, trailing down your neck and landing on your breasts. He wasn't shy about his gaze, that's for sure. You felt as if he could see right through your clothes. He grabbed your arm, seeming to study the armband he had stuck on it. His hand grabs yours and brings it up to your mouth, making you eat the last of the chocolate that was melting on it.

“Is your friend waiting for you?” He asks, trailing his finger down your arm, barely grazing the skin, causing goosebumps to rise.

“No…I don't think so,” A smile crosses his face as he loops his arm around your waist and starts leading you towards the elevators. You couldn't tell if you were about to throw up from excitement or nerves as you stood there. The elevator ride was the longest one of your life, his grip firm and calm against your waist. The doors of the elevator dinged open and the two of you stepped out into the quiet and empty hallway. Your legs felt like jelly as he led you right up to his room door, he removed his arm from around you, fishing his room key out of his pocket. He opens the door, gesturing for you to walk in first. You timidly walk past him and into the room, your eyes grazing over it. It was definitely a nice room, the largest hotel room you had ever been in. You walk up to the window, glancing out over the view of the city, slightly amazed at the sight. You felt his front press against your back, both of his hands resting on your hips.

“You ever been in a room this high up?” He asks quietly, his lips brushing against your neck. You couldn't keep your breathing steady as the situation unfolds.

“No, I've never been this high up in general,” You tell him, you feel him smile, placing a kiss against your skin, making you flinch.

“I like being this high up…wanna know why?” He turns your body in his arms, making you face him before he backs you up against the window, pinning you to it. Your heart leapt to your throat, nerves off the charts from your idol being this close and from the height. Only a layer of glass was stopping you from falling several stories to the concrete below.

“Why…” you ask him, your voice barely a whisper. You couldn't stop your eyes from flicking down to his lips, your tongue grazing across yours, wetting them.

“Because if I fuck you against the window…no one will see.” His voice was gruff and seductive as he spoke. He leaned down, his face just inches from yours, his eyes still locked with yours. His gaze flickers down to your lips, a smirk crossing his face again as your arms jerk against his tight grip. He sees your eyes flutter close, your lips parting slightly, he leans forward and presses his face to yours. The heavy taste of his cigars clung to his lips, invading your taste buds. You couldn't help the moan that slips out of you from his touch, making him grip you tighter. He moves one of his hands from your arms and loops it around your waist. His kisses were sloppy and wet but you could tell he knew exactly what he was doing. He pulls away from you, releasing you from his grip and stepping away, causing you to give him a puzzled look.

“Go ahead and strip for me, sweet thing,” Your cheeks burn, not expecting to have made it this far. Slowly you reach for the armband on your wrist to remove it first, the least revealing thing you could.

“Ah…not that. Keep that on,” His scolds, his eyes burning holes through you as he watches your every move. You grab the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, dropping it to the floor next to you. He follows suit, stripping himself of his shirt as well. You bite your lips at the sight of his exposed chest and stomach, his dad bod proudly on display. You unbutton your jeans and push them down, stepping out of them and kicking them to the side. Again, he follows, dropping his jeans to expose his boxers, his boner straining against the fabric. He notices your gaze, a smirk covering his face.

“It's been like that all night, baby girl. Since I first saw that sweet face of yours,” His tone was cocky as he spoke, causing the arousal in your stomach to pool further. You unclip your bra, sliding it down your arms and piling it with the rest of your clothes. You were trying to act confident but you felt as if you could fall over at any second, your entire body shaking. You reach for your panties but James' sudden movements make you stop. He steps forward, pressing himself against you for a second before dropping to his knees. The unexpected action causes you to shiver, he looks up at you with a smile as his fingers push under the waistband and pulls them down. He was right in the line of sight of your dripping cunt, his eyes never leaving it as he peels your panties off all the way.

“God look at that pretty little pussy…dripping for me…desperate for an old man's cock, you're a naughty girl you know that,” Every word that spills out of his mouth causes you to ache for him further, a moan slipping from your lips in desperation. He grabs your thigh tightly, kissing your hip bone before rising to his full height again. He grabs your hands, putting them on the hem of his boxers, patiently waiting for you to remove them. You grip them, shakily dropping to your knees the way he did, peeling them down his legs. His cock sprung out, painfully erect and dripping with precum. You swallow heavily, your nerves building further as you take in the sight of him. You had only been with two other men in your life and neither of them were even half his size. James grabs you and firmly pulls you off of the floor, his hands move to grip your ass tightly as he backs you up against the window again. The cold glass sends a chill through you, his gaze causing you to tremble further.

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” He questions with a whisper, pinning himself to you, his erection pressed against your bare skin. You nod your head, unable to speak but he gives you a “tsk”

“Ah..ah…use your words. Tell me how much you want this old man's dick in you,” You could feel your entire body heat up at the teasing tone dripping from his words.

“Please, James, fuck me…I need you in me so bad,” You felt almost pathetic as the words spill out, your voice more desperate than you had wished. He gives you a cocky grin, leaning down to press an open mouthed kiss against your collarbone. He grabs your breast, his thumb swiping over your nipple before he does the same with it, giving it a sloppy kiss. You throw your head back against the glass at the sensation, your body shivering under his touch, practically calling out for more.

“Jump up,” James tells you firmly, his hands gripping your waist tighter. You jump up a little and he helps lift you up enough for you to wrap your legs around his waist. You tightly grip his shoulders as he presses you further against the glass.

“You sure you're not too old to do this?” you question him, a small amount of genuine concern but also wanting to tease him. He gives you an annoyed look, his features darkening as he leans his face closer to yours.

“Ooh..you're gonna get it now, baby,” He grunts before lining himself up and immediately plunging himself deep into you. You let out a high pitched squeak, the sensation and the pain from him stretching you overbearing. You could feel every bit of him throbbing against your walls.

“You're gonna take it like a good girl aren't you?” James growls in your ear, his words more of a demand than a question as he snaps his hips again, drawing another loud noise from you. The pain between your legs was almost unbearable but it felt good…so good. You could feel just how wet you were getting, it was practically dripping down the both of you as his movement picked up. You held on to his shoulders like your life depended on it as he pounded into you, your moans spilling out louder than ever.

You used to hate groupie, never understanding why they would do such a thing but as he fucks you against the window you finally understood. The feeling of him was addicting, a slight power boost surging through you as you think about the fact that he chose you.

“ah…fuck James,” You cry out, brain going blank under his touch. You wanted to bite your lip or bury your face against him to keep yourself quiet, the noises spilling out of you were almost embarrassing. James clearly enjoyed them as he watched your every move, an arrogant smile plastered on his face as he continued to hammer his hips against yours. Your legs tighten around his waist, your body quivering as your orgasm hits you hard, you practically scream his name, grabbing at him as if you were drowning. His movements come to a stop as he pulls out of you, gently letting your legs fall to the floor. He holds your trembling body up with his as he leans down to your ear, nipping at it again.

“Get on your knees, I want you to taste yourself on me,” He murmurs against your neck, slowly lowering your weak legs to the floor in front of him. You could still hardly think as you sit against the cold ground, shivering. James' large hand grabs a fist full of your hair, making a makeshift ponytail as he urges your head forward.

“Open wide, babygirl, I wanna cum in that pretty little mouth of yours,” you rest one of your shaking hands on his thighs, looking up at him as you open your mouth, taking him in it. He lets out a groan at the feeling of your tongue swirling around his swollen head. You push him further into your mouth, his large size already causing tears to prick at your eyes. You gag a little, trying to breath through your nose and stay calm as you suck him off, keeping your gaze locked with his. The feeling of your throat muscles contracting around his girth makes him let out another drawn out groan.

“You're such a dirty girl you know that…fuck…I don't even know your name sweetheart…just-oh- just gonna call you a naughty girl,” His words only encourage you, you bring your hand up, massaging his balls lightly as your tongue continues to taste him. You could feel his dick throbbing and twitching, his dirty talk getting replaced by strangled moans. You bob your head against him a few more times, tears rolling down your cheeks right as he busts his load against the back of your throat, causing you to gag again. He pulls your head back harsly, not wanting to cum in your mouth any longer but wanting to watch it drip down your face and breasts. With his other hand he jerks himself off a little more, pulling every last bit he had out of him and onto you. He keeps his gaze locked with yours the whole time, his stare and actions heating up your entire body.

As you sat there you were sure he had ruined you for any other man, nothing could ever come close to this night. He lets go of his heavy grip on his cock and brings his fingers to your body, watching it smear his cum over your skin. He scrapes a small amount up with his two middle fingers before shoving them into your mouth. You let out a small moan as you grab his wrist with both hands, keeping it in place as you suck his semen off of his tattooed fingers. Another smirk crossed his face as he watched you. He slowly lets go of his grip on your hair and pulls his fingers out of your mouth.

“Let's get you cleaned up sweet thing,” His words and gaze were soft, a stark contrast to just seconds prior. He disappears for a second before returning with a warm, wet washcloth. He gets down on his knees in front of where he had left you on the floor. He gently wipes his filth off of your face and breasts.

“You got your phone on you?” He questions as he finishes wiping you off. He tosses the washcloth to the floor next to you, grabbing your chin lightly as he speaks.

“It's in one of my pockets,” You speak quietly, your voice rough from your loud moaning and his dick against your throat. He nods his head, reaching over to your pile of clothes and digging through it for your phone. He hands it to you before speaking again.

“Tell your friend you're not gonna make it back to your room tonight.”

✭-----------------------------✭

#james hetfield smut #james hetfield fanfiction #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield #jaymzhetfield #papahet #metallica smut #metallica fanfiction #metallica

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scoops-aboy86 · 2 months

Text

This is a belated happy birthday fic for @whimsicalwadewinstonwilson! Chubby Steve fluff, with a little bit of stuffing and spice thrown in at the end. 😘

Eddie watches blearily from his hospital bed as Steve, hands on his hips, bickers with Dustin over what is and what isn’t appropriate hospital visit etiquette. Namely, “You can’t just try to hug a guy who just got out of major surgery, dipshit!”

It’s absolutely the drugs—Eddie hasn’t asked what he’s on yet, it’s sure as shit the good stuff though—but all that’s running through his head right now is, I’m gonna marry that man.

He’s been trying to convince himself not to fall for Steve Harrington for years, ever since he’d accidentally caught a school swim meet and nearly wiped out walking into a trash can at the sight of so much mole-speckled skin on display. Seeing that again in the Upside Down’s muted lighting while Steve killed one of those bat things with his bare hands, even obscured by grime and blood and the most luxurious chest hair that Eddie has ever personally witnessed, seems to have sealed the deal.

“Steeeve,” he whines, interrupting their argument. “I want a hug. From you,” he adds quickly, then points a finger in Dustin’s general direction. “Not you, Henderson. You’re not my type.”

Steve’s face goes red while Dustin snorts in half-offended amusement. Three minutes later Eddie has somehow persuaded Steve to lay down in the bed with him—carefully, because Eddie is still connected to a lot of stuff—and cuddle up. He tells Dustin in his best ‘benevolent lord’ voice to “fetch grapes so that I might feed this beautifully warm vision of loveliness by hand” and the kid actually leaves the room, though god only knows if he’ll honor the request.

“Are you sure this doesn’t hurt?” Steve asks for the third or the twentieth time. “You nearly died, man, I don’t want to… squish you or whatever.”

With a hum, Eddie tugs him closer. (Or tries, anyway. At the moment he has all the strength of a newborn kitten, but it’s the thought that counts.) “Sweet Stevie, jewel of my heart,” he says, and part of him does know that he’s going to be incredibly embarrassed about this later but for now Steve isn’t telling him to fuck off and that’s glorious, “you could never squish me. Your presence sustains me. With you at my side, Death himself can’t help but agree that I’m already safely tucked away in heaven and destined to forever thrive in the glow of your light.”

The way Steve blinks at him, face flushed and lips slightly parted like he’s trying to think of a reply but coming up empty, is perfect. Eddie coos and kisses his forehead, and Steve shifts to hide his burning face against Eddie’s shoulder, heat bleeding through the paper-thin hospital gown. But he doesn’t get up, is the important thing.

To Eddie’s surprise (and only half because he’d forgotten in his muddled state, thank you very much) Dustin returns with an armload of vending machine snacks. “Steve doesn’t like grapes,” he announces, and dumps the snacks over the blanket next to Eddie’s non-Steve side. “I brought some stuff he does like. Don’t pull any stitches or I’ll tell Robin you’re trying to steal her boyfriend.”

Steve snorts into Eddie’s shoulder, mumbling low enough that only Eddie can hear, “Wouldn’t want that.” But he lets Eddie feed him pop tarts and pringles and various candy bars for the next hour, or whenever Eddie dozes off again in another post-op nap.

“Dustin sent me in here to break up a love fest,” Robin says as she enters the room, smirk quickly changing to raised eyebrows as she takes in the scene on the bed and, just as quickly, shutting the door behind herself. “Which I didn’t expect to actually find, wow.”

Steve, wrapped up in Eddie’s sleeping embrace, rolls his eyes. “He wanted to feed me grapes.”

“Uh huh,” she replies slowly, taking in the scattered wrappers. “But you don’t like grapes.”

“Only when they’re room temperature and squishy, but that’s not the point, Rob.” He tries to shift, only for Eddie’s weak grip on him to tighten a little. Immediately, he freezes, but the other man just hums in his sleep and settles back down. “I don’t know what to do,” he admits, looking back up to his best friend with deer-in-the-headlights eyes.

“Because you’re stuck in the grip of a metalhead koala?”

Steve gives a tiny shake of his head against Eddie’s shoulder, where he’s obligingly curled into the man’s side. “Because it’s nice,” he whispers.

“Oh, Steve…”

The next several months as Eddie recovers are… interesting. Since his uncle is staying in the local motel and Steve’s parents have all but washed their hands of Hawkins, it’s agreed that Eddie should stay at the Harrington house. As soon as someone floats the idea, Steve is quick to tell him that there’s a first floor guest room with an en-suite and his name on it.

Wayne comes over whenever Steve has to be at work; the plant was destroyed in the earthquake but Family Video, for all its faults, is somehow still standing, and goddamn if people don’t want their hot and cold running entertainment after surviving a ‘natural disaster.’ At night, though, Steve stays in Eddie’s room out of concern that he might not hear the bell he’s given to Eddie to ring whenever he needs something. He’s not that heavy a sleeper, for the most part—not anymore, with the nightmares and the headaches and the difficulty sleeping alone—but it eases something in him to know that Eddie is right there, alive and breathing.

Eddie, for his part, never stops asking Steve to help keep him warm. At first it was still the drugs, which absolutely did a number on his impulse control. But weaning off of them seemed to only make him more clingy, just… in an irritable way, which Steve figures is fair. His own bites itch like hell while healing up; Eddie has it way worse, the constant prickle of healing skin and deeper injuries.

One day when Eddie is snapping at everything, Steve starts to ask, “Do you want me to get you more—”

“Absolutely the fuck not,” Eddie barks, glaring at first but then rubbing both hands over his face with a groan. “It’s a slippery slope from ‘use as needed’ to ‘use whenever the fuck you feel like getting high,’ Steve. I’ve seen it. I’m not gonna do what my parents did to me to you and Wayne.”

They’re both quiet for a long moment after that, Eddie avoiding eye contact while Steve tries earnestly to make it.

“Okay,” Steve says finally, and settles back down. He’s at Eddie’s side again, on what’s steadily becoming his side of the bed because Eddie has started exasperatedly telling him to just come lay down whenever he starts to nod off in the armchair in the corner.

Eddie’s eyes flick over, catch on his. It still amazes him every time that Steve is willing to get this close, given Eddie’s public record as a freak, a drug dealer, and a three-time high school senior. And, last but not least, the actually very true rumors about his sexuality, can’t forget that! He keeps waiting for the bubble to pop and Steve to announce that enough is enough, but it keeps not happening.

Not sure what else to do, Eddie pushes a corner of the grilled cheese Steve had made for him against the other man’s lips until he takes a bite. And another. Steve makes him take at least one bite to each of his two, and between them they gradually make their way through the sandwich, several Yoohoos, and various snacks.

“He said he’s not going to do that ‘to you and Wayne.’ How come he said me first? Does that mean anything or was it just because I was in the room with him?” Steve says into the phone, and pops another Pringles chip into his mouth. With Eddie constantly pushing food on him for some reason, he’s gotten in the habit of snacking even when his charge is taking a midday nap.

“Steve,” Robin sighs. “I mean this in the least chauvinist way possible, but you sound like a teenage girl right now despite being literally neither of those things. But I’ve gotta tell you, like I told my friend Becky when she was desperate for Adam Hurley to notice her…” She sighs again. “From the depths of my soul, I do not know.”

Groaning, he lets his head thunk against the wall next to the phone. “You’re supposed to be my gay wingwoman here, Birdie. I don’t know what I’m doing!”

“And you think I do?! Steve, you’ve kissed thousands—”

He makes a wounded noise.

“—Hundreds?”

He groans again.

“Whatever! You’ve kissed a lot of girls and I have kissed zero, despite wanting to very, very much. You’ve kissed zero boys, and guess what! That’s also my number, and I have no desire to ever let it go any higher. My fields of expertise are so far away it’s not even on this map.”

Steve lifts his head again with a sigh. “Unless you need kissing practice before a big date,” he offers absently while running a hand through his hair.

“That is—No, Steve, no. That’s not a thing. Who have you practiced kissing with?”

“Uh, Tommy, when he was trying to get the balls to ask Carol out the first time.” He pauses, thinking. “And the second. Apparently he underperformed.”

“Oh my god. First of all, oh my god you have kissed a boy, so shut up. Second, oh my god is that not a heterosexual thing to do with your guy friends, I can’t believe it took you so long to realize you might be bi. Third, oh my god Steve.”

He’s almost snickering at her by the time she’s done, audibly flailing and dramatic in a way that eases the anxiety twisting his stomach. (And another stack of Pringles helps too.)

With Eddie still needing help when it comes to… bathroom activities, there isn’t a lot of either of them that the other hasn’t seen. It just doesn’t really occur to Steve that this goes both ways until he first starts realizing that the swim trunks he dons for helping Eddie in the shower—basically he’s a glorified safety bar, with his eyes fixed on the ceiling except for when he helps wash Eddie’s everything from the shoulders up—are getting a little snug.

Kind of a lot snug, actually, and when did that happen?

Steve ponders this long after noticing it. Hair dry and camped out on the couch, watching some nerdy fantasy movie with puppets that he’d brought home from work because he’d thought Eddie might like it. Meanwhile, Eddie is stretched out over most of the couch with his head pillowed on Steve’s thigh, completely enthralled. But that isn’t stopping him from occasionally holding up the snack cake in his hand for Steve to take a bite. Or a handful of buttery popcorn. Or some of the Twizzlers that Eddie doesn’t even like, they’re Steve’s favorite. Or or or.

Eddie is always feeding him, is the thing. Especially after they’ve smoked up, which they have today. (Hawkins’ premier dealer might have been forced into early retirement, but Argyle is amazingly generous with his stash.) And Steve keeps letting it happen because, really, he gets it. Going from independent to needing help with literally everything is a pretty big blow; he knows that from all the times he’s been looked after post-concussions, getting frustrated with all the hovering even though he understands why it’s necessary. So while Steve is taking care of Eddie, if Eddie wants to balance that out a little by taking care of him in some way, fair enough. Steve is all for whatever keeps him from being a cranky patient, because he gets the feeling that an Eddie actively trying to be difficult is not something he wants to endure.

And it’s… It’s nice. This might be the rose colored glasses of his awkward and embarrassing crush on the guy talking, but Steve likes Eddie’s little attempts to take care of him.

“Mountain Dew?” Eddie asks, shifting his head and holding up his can with the bright red crazy straw in the shape of a guitar. Steve had seen it at Melvalds, next to a blue one in the shape of a race car, and bought both on a whim. The latter is still in his empty Coke can on the coffee table; he hadn’t wanted to disturb Eddie by getting up just to grab another one.

“Thanks,” Steve says genuinely, because the saltiness of the popcorn has really made him thirsty. It’s nice to think that Eddie noticed, even if it might just be a coincidence.

It’s not a coincidence.

Eddie wants Steve to be able to relax. Sure, he’s the one who nearly died, but he’d only had to deal with the Upside Down for a week before supergirl ended things for good; Steve has been living with this for years. It’s stamped into the nightmares that Eddie knows Steve gets too, and the way he goes far away and thoughtful sometimes, and the nailbat that goes in the umbrella stand by the door when he’s home, the trunk of the beemer when he’s not.

So Eddie pays attention to what Steve likes and makes sure he gets it. Snacks, extras, and treats. Weed to take the edge off every once in a while; if it also keeps Eddie from crawling out of his skin on days when the pain gets bad, so much the better. And asking Steve to make heavier dishes (because Eddie’s doctor recommended rich meals to build his strength back up) at the end of the day means they both have a heavier sleep, fewer bad dreams.

When the signs of all those indulgences start to show on Steve’s body, Eddie welcomes them. They share a bed every night now, and often Eddie wakes first just to linger against Steve next to him, lightly run both hands over his friend’s softer torso, and smile dreamily to himself because it’s a reminder that all the awful shit is over and done.

Which is why he also pretends to still be asleep on the mornings when Steve wakes with a jolt and surreptitiously checks him over for open wounds. Steve was the one who held his bleeding, ruined body together on the frantic drive between the former Munson trailer and the hospital; it left an indelible mark. That’s why they spend so much time together, Eddie figures. All that trauma bonding is powerful shit.

And also, his continent-sized crush. Which he’s trying to rein in, but honestly? He really does want the Greco-Roman fantasy of lounging around feeding grapes to Steve Harrington. Firm ones, still fridge-cold, because that’s how Steve likes them. And day by day, Steve seems more and more open to just. Letting him do that.

It’s driving Eddie crazy. When the tips of his fingers touch Steve’s lips, he has to wrestle down the urge to slide them inside, wet them, slide them slickly over the other man’s skin on the way to grabbing his chin and pulling him into a kiss. When he rests his head on Steve’s lap for movie time, reveling in how those already bitable thighs are becoming even more comfortable beneath him, it’s all he can do not to forget the movie and roll over to nuzzle at Steve’s growing belly, to say ‘Look at this. Look at us. We’re safe now, it’s okay, you can keep letting go. I like it.’

But alas, they’re not an ‘us.’ And Eddie doesn’t feel physically up to the task of rolling over without help. And Steve is probably straight.

“Steve’s straight, right?” Eddie asks Robin bluntly one night, in the gap between movies while the man in question is in the kitchen making more popcorn and heating up Bagel Bites and jalapeno poppers. It’s not going to take long, so he doesn’t have the time to beat around the bush.

Robin blinks at him. “What?”

“Because I’m not,” he continues, popping carefully up on his elbows to see her better in the easy chair across from the couch. His pulse picks up a little because he doesn’t exactly have a lot of practice coming out—but between a recent near death experience and Robin pinging his gaydar, he can soldier through. “And you know how we’re living in each other’s pockets right now, I know you’ve seen it and there’s no way the two of you haven’t talked about it because you live in each others’ brains. It’s kind of killing me to not know if it means anything. So if he’s one hundred percent, not even slightly on the fence, not even within sight of the fence, please, as one Upside Down survivor to another, please tell me right now so I can back off and give my heart a break. And please never tell him I asked because if the answer is no I will make absolutely sure it’s not a big deal. I don’t want to fuck things up by being off-base about this. Okay? Just, hurry up and just tell me because he’ll be back in any second, Birdie, please.”

It’s a word-vomit worthy of… well, the person he just unloaded it on. But to her credit, she only stares at him for another moment before fully processing it all and un-dropping her jaw.

“I’m not either,” Robin says in a low voice, “and Steve knows, and he’s cool with it. Officially, that’s all I can say.”

Eddie grits his teeth against an impatient groan. “And unofficially?”

Her eyes flick towards the kitchen and back, mouth twisted in conflicted thought. “... He is aware of the fence,” she says finally, quietly, and as much as it looks like it pains her to betray that confidence, Eddie can also tell she’s holding back a smile.

“Holy shit,” he whispers half to himself, not bothering to restrain his own smile at the prospect of having even a sliver of a chance. A few months ago he would have considered that wholly impossible, right up there with alternate dimensions brimming with eye-less creatures full of teeth and malice controlled by a ballsack-looking evil mind wizard.

It’s funny, the effect a little perspective can have.

He’s still propped up and grinning like a maniac when Steve comes back in with snacks, setting a plate and the popcorn bowl with another plate stacked atop it on the coffee table before sitting down with a quiet grunt. “What’s with you?” Steve asks, even while absently patting his thigh for Eddie to lay back down.

Eddie happily obliges, in no small part because Steve is wearing shorts juuust short enough that leg hair tickles his nose when he snuggles his face in. “Oh, you know me. A mood struck.”

Robin, already reaching for the popcorn, snorts. If they had that same apparently psychic link that she has with Steve, he’s pretty sure she’d be broadcasting ‘Nice save, weirdo’ and a heavy eye roll at him right now. Or she might be anyway, because it’s coming through loud and clear.

But in an amused way, he thinks. The power of lesbian-gay solidarity.

“Anyway,” Eddie continues, reaching for a Bagel Bite and blowing on it to cool it enough that he can feed to Steve, “what are we watching next?”

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie whispers that night, and Steve, though already halfway to asleep, is instantly on alert.

“Huh, yeah?” he asks with a yawn, starting to sit up. It feels like he’s moving through molasses. “Do you need your meds? Or like… new pillow?”

“No man, just wanna tell you something.”

Oh. He lets his body drop gracelessly back down, like a puppet with his strings cut. Thank fuck, because if he’d had to walk somewhere in this weird half-asleep, half-addrenaline-buzzed state he probably would’ve run into some doorframes. “M’kay, shoot.”

In the dark, Eddie chuckles at him. “You really are an action first, figure it out later kinda guy, aren't ya?” There’s a shuffling noise, and Steve feels a fun sized candy bar from Eddie’s bedside table being pressed into his hand. Presumably as an apology for startling him from almost-sleep. “Listen, uh… I came out to Robin earlier today, and she came out to me and said you know too. Figured I should keep you in the loop. So… I’m gay.” And even though there’s not enough light in the room, Steve can tell he’s doing something showy with his hands, a silent ‘ta-daaa.’ It’s very Eddie.

Steve unwraps the candy on autopilot and puts it in his mouth to keep his heart from leaping up his throat. He may be new to the whole being into guys thing himself, but it’s a good sign that his crush at least has the capacity to like him back. He’d been worried about that, no matter what Robin had to say about vibes. But, hey, it turns out she’s right—which he fully intends to use against her when it comes to Vicky, because who’s to say he isn’t right about Robin’s crush too? Maybe that’s why they were destined to become soulmates with a capital P, because on their own they’re hopeless but together they at least have each other’s backs.

“Oh,” he says belatedly, remembering he’s supposed to actually respond to something like this. (“Steve? You OD over there?”) “Thanks for telling me, man. That’s really cool.”

Eddie chuckles again, gentle and close. “Not really the popular opinion around these parts, but I appreciate the sentiment, Stevie.”

“No, I mean… it’s cool that you told me,” he whispers back. He’s blushing, and wonders if Eddie can tell. Because it’s dark, but maybe it comes through in his voice, or something? And they’re so close, Eddie is always burrowing into personal space left and right like it’s a mere suggestion—not that Steve minds, he’s just not sure if it means anything. He hasn’t known Eddie long enough, or in more context than either having the worst week of his life or bedridden, to be able to tell. “And, like, that’s cool by me, in case you were worried.”

It makes him feel trustworthy, when he knows that three years ago he wouldn’t have been. Not with something like this.

It makes him feel like the least he can do is show the same confidence in Eddie.

“I, um.” Steve clears his throat. The taste of chocolate is thick on his tongue, sweet like a promise. “I’m bisexual.”

In the long pause that follows, Steve wishes that he’d waited for daylight, or even just rolled briefly to one side to turn on a lamp. He should’ve waited until he could see the other man’s face and maybe brace himself in whatever reaction flickered there first. It’s the same impulse that had sent him sliding beneath the partition between stalls in the Starcourt bathroom when he’d told Robin he liked her; she hadn’t answered right away and he’d needed to see—

“Ow! Sorry, needed to pinch myself there,” Eddie whispers, sounding like it does when he hides behind his hair—but in the good way, Steve’s pretty sure. “Really?”

Despite the dark and the blush on his face, that makes Steve crack a smile. “Yeah. Girls and guys.”

Their arms bump, a deliberate move on Eddie’s part since rolling over to face him requires too many of the muscles that were chewed on by bats, would mean putting pressure on the healing skin grafts on his side. “Any guys in particular?”

Which makes Steve’s breath catch in his throat because… he hadn’t expected Eddie to ask, let alone in such a hopeful tone.

Because, sure, Eddie just told him he’s gay. That doesn’t mean he likes Steve, the same way Steve’s reputation of liking any girl that walks and talks is complete bullshit. First of all, there’s that reputation. Second, they have nothing in common except living space, the kids, and a few near death experiences. Third—and this one really makes Steve want to squirm—he doesn’t exactly look his best these days. There are the scars, and the way he’s been putting on weight lately that pulls awkwardly at the puckered skin, making irregular stretch marks bloom in weird, unpredictable squiggles and curves. He’s getting a belly, something he’d kind of half figured out was inevitable based on his dad and the story told across years of professionally taken family photos, but it’s coming in about a decade sooner than he’d expected. He’s only twenty but looks like he’d imagined he would at thirty; has already had to size up his clothes a couple times and everything.

Well. At least with Eddie close by every night he’s been sleeping fairly well, so the bags under his eyes aren’t as dark and deep as they had been. And none of the men in his family, either side, have receding hairlines, so at least his best feature is safe.

“Just one,” he murmurs, blood roaring in his ears.

“Yeah?”

And Steve has never been one to hold back, so he takes a deep breath. Figures they’re close enough friends now that even if Eddie doesn’t feel the same way, he’ll be more flattered than weirded out and they’ll be able to get past it. Hopefully, anyway… Steve has too few friends his own age as it is.

“I kinda have a crush on you, Eds.”

After a short pause, Eddie shifts a little next to him and—

“Ow!” Steve hisses, twitching his arm away from the sudden pinch. He’s still whispering, even though there’s no one else in the house. “Dude, what the hell?!”

“Sorry,” Eddie whispers back. “I needed to make sure you aren’t asleep before I accidentally made things super uncomfortable.”

“How would you—” And then he feels a tug, the other man’s hand fisting in his sleep shirt and pulling him closer. Not that Eddie has the arm strength to actually do that right now, but it’s such a surprise that Steve just goes with it, leaning over until their mouths bump together in the dark.

It’s a whole new kind of shock, a bucket of ice water and hot sparks flickering along his spine, zinging nerves and chapped lips. Steve gasps into the fumbling press of lips, sways back, then ducks forward in a more coordinated effort and kisses Eddie for real. Sinks into the moment as a hand, ringless for the night, twines into the hair at the base of his skull, blunt nails scratch lightly at his scalp as Eddie curls his fingers into Steve’s hair, and it’s… it’s everything.

He has to be careful not to sag into the kiss, mindful of Eddie’s injuries even though he wants to sink in closerthanthis and never leave. Can’t remember the last time something so simple lit him up like this, because everything but the immediate present is blurred out, insignificant. And Eddie’s other hand finds his hip, pressing in where he’s gotten softer but tugging weakly, undeterred. Steve takes the hint and shifts until he’s cautiously plastered to the other man’s side.

“This okay?” he breathes against Eddie’s lips, still close enough to taste the traces of chocolate that Eddie sucked off his tongue. “Am I hurting you?”

“Not hurting. You’re healing me, baby,” Eddie coos into his mouth and guides him back in for more.

The next morning Eddie wakes to breakfast in bed. It’s not an unusual occurrence, but instead of propped up on pillows against the headboard, he leans happily back against Steve while he eats chocolate chip pancakes and feeds him two bites for every one of his own.

“They’re supposed to be for you,” Steve tries to protest, the first time Eddie nudges a syrup-sticky forkful against his lips.

“And I’m enjoying them a lot, sweetheart,” Eddie replies with a smile. “But you made me a stack that’s practically two feet tall and I am but one man. So be a dear and help me out here, hmm? I’ll even throw in a smooch to sweeten the deal.”

Steve mutters something about his sweet tooth being taken advantage of here, but accepts a bite without the next time Eddie brings it in, this time with a little vroom vroom here comes the airplane. Smiling around the sticky mouthful and protesting in a muffled, faux-aggrieved tone that, “Planes don’ go vroom Ed, tha’s cars.”

Grinning so wide it makes the scar on his cheek pull, not exactly comfortable but he doesn’t care, Eddie gives Steve the promised smooch. Like their first kiss last night, he tastes like chocolate.

“Shush,” he chides playfully, licking at Steve’s sticky lips. “You’re mine now, Steve Harrington. I’m gonna take as good care of you as you do of me, and I’m gonna marry you someday.”

“O-oh.” Steve blushes. The sight of red filling in behind his constellations of freckles and moles is captivating.

“Yeah, oh.” Eddie kisses him again. “You just wait until I’m all healed up, big boy, and I’ll show you how hard I can rock your world. Trust me, you’ll want to keep me around and once you get the full Eddie Munson experience.”

Despite still being visibly flustered, Steve swallows and shakes his head at him with a laugh. “Okay okay, Jesus. Put the lines away, you’ve already got me.”

“Yeah? You promise?”

Steve returns the kiss with a happy hum, lets Eddie pepper more kisses on his cheek. “Mm. Hook, line, and sinker.”

And Eddie meant it about rocking his world; what he wouldn’t give to writhe beneath this gorgeous man right now, nuzzle into luxurious chest hair, bite at his nipples until they’re red and pebbled, rub and squeeze his softening belly and thighs and arms and jawline, roll him over and ride him into the mattress. Or pound him into it, he’s not picky. He can see it in his mind’s eye, feels the banked fire it stokes… but he’s sore all over. The ache in his body has the pervasive depth of chewed-up muscles and lifesaving sutures, and it dams up that want long before it can get all the way to his dick, so.

It’s a little frustrating, but for the most part he’s content with what they have so far. Steve’s never done this with a guy—and Eddie’s never done this period—so taking it slow isn’t the worst idea.

He snuggles into Steve’s cuddly embrace a bit more as resumes making a dent in their shared breakfast. They can figure everything out together, one step (and one bite) at a time.

It takes a year. Eddie does all of his PT exercises religiously, and he still has to walk with a cane but that’s miles better than being carried or wheeled everywhere. His Stevie is still strong enough to lift him, of course, but now that Eddie is back to a healthy weight it takes more out of him, and Eddie is prone to pouting when that’s the reason for Steve huffing and puffing.

No, he likes it much more like this, in Steve’s room because he has finally made those goddamn stairs his bitch. Cozied up to his boyfriend after dinner, dirty dishes stacked on the desk to deal with later, Steve panting a little as he focuses on digesting. Eddie loves every second of it as he reaches down to unbutton his sweetheart’s jeans for the day, noting how they’re already straining and mentally adding the next size up to tomorrow’s shopping list. Because he can show his face in public again, name cleared and everything, and buy whatever they need with the government payout that finally came through.

“Think I… overdid it a li’l,” Steve mumbles, his voice strained and airy. He rubs a slow hand over the top of his belly to try and ease some of the pressure. Sighs as Eddie helps by gently peeling down the constricting denim a little more in front, letting the bit of tummy still tucked into his briefs to bulge through. Steve brings his other hand up to stifle a burp behind one loosely curled fist.

“You’re fine, sweetheart,” Eddie assures him with a smile, pleased to the brim that he’d enjoyed the meal so much. “Need anything?”

Steve smiles back, but there’s a hint of self-consciousness in it that just won’t do. “Nah, I’m good.”

Even after a year of safety, Steve still has a hard time being doted on sometimes. It comes from years of low-key parental neglect, Eddie thinks, and a lingering instinct to ‘be a man’ and fill that protector role twenty-four seven. But that, Steve has agreed, is no longer necessary now that the Upside Down is gone. So he tries to relax.

Sometimes that looks like Eddie laying him back in bed, sweetly fussing him into the perfect position, and making sure he eats his fill and a little extra. On those nights, Steve’s gaze goes soft and unfocused while still opening his mouth for whatever Eddie wants to give him, knowing—trusting—that it will be good, that he isn’t taking too much.

But tonight, Eddie can tell that he needs a little more to hang onto.

“Baby,” Eddie starts, clambering around not-so-gracefully-(but-at-least-he-can-do-it) to kneel between Steve’s splayed legs. “You are perfect, you know that?” Scooching down, he leans in and kisses the soft swell of Steve’s lower belly where it rolls out over the top of his underwear, bare where his shirt had long ago ridden up. “Always have been, always will be.”

Steve shivers beneath his continuing kisses, cheeks reddening as he looks away. “Not really the popular opinion. First of all, everyone knows I was a douchebag in high school.” He bites his lip and drops his gaze back to Eddie. From this angle, head inclined to look down, he has a full double chin beneath his round face, pretty face. “And I… I know I…”

Eddie waits for a moment after he peters out, then finishes it: “You’re beautiful. Whatever you look like, because you’re you.” And reaches up, turning Steve’s face gently back when he tries to look away again. “It’s all you, Steve, and I love you.”

Steve’s hazel eyes go wide, breath catching. It’s not the first time Eddie has said it, not really… Not like this, with the exact words and making direct eye contact and in his knees, kissing and nipping gently, devotedly at mole-dotted skin. But it’s also the first time Steve touched on this insecurity that doesn’t always come so close to the surface, the one that takes too much and makes it literal.

Eddie stares him down while kissing over the tight jut of his full stomach, his soft sides and chest, murmuring nonstop praise along the way. Hands stroking along behind and coaxing out moans and burps until the tension in Steve’s body shifts from self-conscious back to that heady space of more, more, more. “Wanna feel you all over, Stevie, every inch. You drive me so fucking crazy you don’t even—”

He cuts himself off with a claiming kiss at Steve’s panting mouth, tasting. Savoring. More.

And that’s when his own need peaks, crests, and sends his hands back down to the waistband of the straining briefs. Snapping it just enough to draw a gasp and a wobble from his boyfriend before yanking them down, shoving hard. Shoving the jeans with them, rewarding Steve by licking devotion into his mouth when the other man takes his cue and rocks to lift his ass one wide cheek at a time. It’s enough to get the clothes gone, so Eddie can reach and take him in hand where he’s hard and flushed, wet from how much he’s leaking.

Steve was trembling already. He shakes harder the second Eddie begins to stroke, spreading his thick legs as wide as he can—not very, these days. But still, he’s too full to jerk his hips into the ringed grip that's wringing an increasingly louder series of “ah ah ah”s out of him. Plump and jiggling body stuffed to where he could move, but doesn’t want to, just lets the sensations wash through him, lets himself be swamped by it, overflows into Eddie’s hand. And Eddie gets to watch, gets to feel it as Steve shudders, lips parted in a seemingly never ending moan that reverberates out from the depths of him, low and hot.

Eddie wants to swallow it. Bottle it. Fucking get drunk off it, like he has almost every night (and some mornings, and some afternoons) ever since he started feeling up to it again. Shove it back to Steve, pumping into his hungry body—like everything else he’s given his boyfriend. His love, his food, his dick…

Then Steve is sucking on his tongue like it’s a lollipop, and Eddie is sinking against him to grind the hard-on still trapped in his own jeans against Steve’s soft body, making him grunt, and Eddie is gone. Comes so hard his vision whites out and he cries brokenly into Steve’s mouth. Sees goddamn stars. Just barely remembers to roll to the side instead of dropping his full weight on Steve, but plasters himself to the other man’s side all the same, face tucked in tight to Steve’s neck to taste the heady scent of him on every inhale.

He drifts for a little while, mind hazy and buoyed up on all the feel-good hormones of an award-winning orgasm with a better partner than he ever could have dreamed of finding. Imagining what Steve could look like wearing a second year of his love, and a third, and— God, he’s still feeling the aftershocks, and even though it veers him immediately into so overstimulated he can’t hold back a whine, Eddie clutches tighter and grinds against Steve’s plush hip, just a little.

Give him a few more minutes and he will get going again, desperate to spill his load directly on his boyfriend’s skin this time, over his belly or buried in his navel, and then clean him up with his tongue. Feed it to him in an insistent kiss and then finger one of them open for round three.

“Fuck, sweetheart, the things you do to me,” Eddie whimpers, prompting Steve to chuckle sleepily and wedge a thick arm beneath him to hold them together close.

In a minute, Eddie will get up and clean both of them up. Help Steve to roll onto his side and get the weight off his lungs so he can breathe better, fall asleep and digest. And Eddie will cuddle up behind him until Steve is practically molded to Eddie’s front, chest to back, hips to hips, Eddie’s knees tucked into the bend of Steve’s.

For now everything is perfect and still and warm, and Eddie knows, blearily but happily, that he’s going to make an honest man out of Steve Harrington the second it becomes legal.

Permanent tag list (ask to be added): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @whimsicalwadewinstonwilson @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr

#scoops words #whimsicalwadewinstonwilson #chubby steve harrington #wg steddie #feeder eddie munson #haopy birthfay friend! 🥳

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chubbycelebs · 1 year

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The Factory of Fatties (Part 1)

It was a warm September morning with sun beaming down on the street where the opening of Mr Wonka's factory took place. The months before this moment were filled with excitement. Mr Wonka had released 5 golden tickets within his Wonka chocolate bars and whoever found these tickets got a free tour of his factory where even more sweet confections were made. There was so much excitement to see who the winners of this prize would be.

The first person to win was 20 year old Sam. Sam was an academic boy who focused on his studies at university. He would snack on Wonka bars when taking notes or writing assignments so when he opened the wrapper on a chocolate bar and was met with a golden ticket he was very surprised. Sam had dark blonde hair, quite tall and had a slight stubble covering his face. He had quite the lazy build, not fat but did have a slight gut as he didn't get out much due to all the readings and writing he has to do. He'd spend a lot of his days sitting around snacking and writing which didn't help his soft belly. This morning at the chocolate factory he was wearing a loose white t-shirt that covered his belly for the most part and some cream coloured shorts that hugged his little round bum very nicely. He was very excited to get a taste of some of Wonka's amazing chocolate and couldn't wait to eat it all.

Next to Sam were two much bigger lads: Matt and Will. Matt and Will, both 22, were two rugby lads, the typical rough around the edges bulky boys. They always loved competing against each other to see who was the best at something. The boys one evening had an eating contest of Wonka bars to see who could eat the most. Matt was quite trim with big strong arms and big shoulders whilst Will was bigger with a strong chest and thick thighs but also a soft strong belly. Matt would often tease Will for his bigger appetite which led to their stuffing contest. As the two boys were reaching the end of their pile of chocolate, they both opened up their bars to find a golden ticket. These two were so excited to go. Will loved to treat himself every so often to Wonka's sweet treats so going to his factory was his dream. Matt secretly enjoyed seeing Will eat and get bigger and bigger so he knew that this trip would be very exciting. They stood waiting outside the factory, Matt showing off his body with his compression shirt and joggers combo, hugging all the right places showing just how fit he was. Will decided to cover up more with a hoodie and joggers. He was used to covering up as Matt liked to tease him for his belly. "Don't stuff your face too much today big boy" Matt teased just this morning as they got ready to go to the factory giving his belly a little tap causing it to wobble.

Next to these two boys stood a very tall and very skinny boy with black hair and oversized clothes on, Henry. Henry wasn't much for going out, in fact he enjoyed spending most of his time playing video games at home. He loved escaping his world of disappointing his parents and always being alone and entering a more interesting fantasy world. At 19 Henry hadn't achieved much in his life but when he saw he won a golden ticket he knew this was his time to prove that he isn't a total failure and make it to the end of the factory tour hopefully winning something at the end.

The last boy in the line was a short round bellied chubby boy called Charlie. Charlie was the oldest there, 25, and by far the fattest. He loved Wonka's candy and he would eat it all day every day so when he won a ticket he was so excited to go see how it was made and hopefully get to try some new sweets. Charlie would get teased a lot for his weight, having always been a big guy he never found him self that attractive so instead he'd just eat. He wore a grafic t-shirt with the words "WONKA" written across it, however the shirt was too tight and had to be stretched over his soft chest and barely covering his hairy gut. He wore some much more comfortable joggers which still were tight around his thick body.

All the boys were stood in line ready to enter the world famous chocolate factory all wondering what was waiting for them when they entered. The doors slowly opened and the excitement built all around them. Out walked the very tall and very powerful Willy Wonka. He wore a purple suit with a tall top hat and a long cane and he marched confidently towards the boys. "Welcome my dear boys. What a joyous occasion it is to have you all here at my factory." He looked the line up and down, taking in all the boys and seeing their excitement. "You boys are very lucky to have won a ticket to my factory. We have some very exciting things in store for you," he said with a slightly mischievous grin. "Now, enough waiting. Should we get going?" Before waiting for an answer, he then turned right around and started walking back to the doors. All the boys followed him in and before they knew it they were cut off from the outside world, with only the unknown ahead of them.

They were walking down a really long and dark corridor with no windows or any sign of this being a chocolate factory. When they finally reached the end where there was a small door, about 3 feet high. The boys all looked at each other confused. Are they meant to squeeze through this small door? Wonka got his keys out and turned a lock in the door and pushed it open. A bright light came from the door but the boys couldn't see into it. "Well what are you waiting for? Go on!" Wonka said giving Charlie a tap on his jiggly arse with his cane. Charlie jumped slightly but then proceeded to try and squeeze through the door. Charlie, already being a rather round boy, struggled to get through. Both his belly and arse got stuck and the rest of the boys laughed at him as he wiggled through the small gap. Matt gave Will a nudge and pointed as Charlies fat arse wriggling, his arse crack peaking over the top of his tight joggers. Next was Will who also got slightly stuck in the door due to this bulky body. Matt gave him a slap on his arse and called him a pig with a chuckle. Next was Matt followed by Henry and finally Sam. As Sam entered he looked up and around the room. It was a room full of life. Plants everywhere and a large brown river in the centre of it. The room smelt sweet and a rumble could be heard coming from all the boys bellies as if none of them had eaten in days. Wonka finally entered the room and introduced them to it. "This my boys is the chocolate room where everything is edible. Eat whatever you want and whatever you can fit into your bellies." All the boys look confused. Will took a leave on a neighbouring plant and put it in his mouth skeptical. His eyes widened and he was shocked that it was a fruity gummy leaf.

"This is amazing" said while still chewing as he started picking more of the bush to each. All the other boys then jumped to life running around the room trying everything. Matt and Will had situated themselves by a tree eating the fruits off it then the leaves then the branches. They made a competition of who could eat more of the tree. Henry had found some mushrooms that were filled with cream. He was taking handfuls and stuffing them into his mouth with globs falling and landing onto his shirt. Charlie was digging up the ground, stuffing his face with the sweet grass and then the chocolate soil underneath. He couldn't get enough his belly and mouth were already covered in the rich chocolate dirt. Matt had seen the state of him and pointed it out to Will saying how much of a hog he is. Little did the Matt and Will know they also looked like hogs, both now having bloated full bellies. The two boys laughed and they carried eating the tree, stuffing themselves even further. Sam had made his way to the river side. He loved Wonkas chocolate so much and he could smell that this river was all melted chocolate. He got down on his knees and put his hand into the river and drank some of the chocolate. It was the best chocolate he'd ever tasted. It was rich yet sweet and so creamy it just slipped down his throat and into his belly. It covered his mouth and filled it up with the warm chocolate liquid. He had to go back for a second handful and then a third and he couldn't stop. He then put his face into the river just gulping as much of down as possible. The creamy warm liquid filled his mouth and belly. Sam came up for air as he licked his lips and his hands of the chocolatey goodness. He could feel the chocolate bloat his belly but he didn't care. It felt amazing as it filled him up.

Wonka then called all the boys over to show them something. All the boys ran over to where Wonka was. Matt and Will still eating the fruits and Henry licking his hands of the mushroom cream. All the boys were displaying fuller bellies having just spent a good portion of time just stuffing their faces with food, most noticeably Charlie who's already tight shirt had now ridden up teasing to show off his deep belly button. "I wanted to show you my workers here. If you look across the river bank you should be able to see those men." Over the river were men about 6 foot in high and all very well build with strong muscles. All the workers wore full orange latex suits showing off their great bodies. "These men work here 24/7 to help run this factory the best it possibly can. In return I give them the best life possible here in my factory. Without them I couldn't do any of this."

Just then a large rumble came from Sam's belly. Sam looked down and grabbed his soft torso. "My boy you can't still be hungry?" Wonka asked confused.

"No I think I'm just very full Wonka. To be honest I did drink a lot of the river" Sam replied pointing to the river bank whilst still clutching his belly. "Your chocolate is just amazing."

"Oh dear my boy I forgot to say, you mustn't drink straight from the river its far to fatty for consumption at this stage. Can't believe i forgot to mention." Sam looked panicked at Wonka as he said this.

"Well whats going to happen to me?" Sam said slightly worried as his belly continued to rumble loudly.

"Oh hopefully nothing too crazy. Maybe put on a few pounds but nothing huge-" Wonka was cut off as if right on queue as Sam's belly began to push outwards. His already soft belly was now growing softer and fatter. His chest got fuller too pushing against his shirt which was becoming tighter by the second. His legs and arse were also filling his tight shorts quickly. Sams was panicking now. This was quickly becoming more than a few pounds. He grabbed his ever expanding belly and shook it as he looked at Wonka who was just smiling at him. His shirt now was riding up belly showing off his snail trail rising higher and higher till his deep belly button popped out. A snap could be heard from under his round belly as his shorts couldn't hold his expanding waist anymore and the button popped off flying across the room. The seams on the side of his shorts were stretching and splitting by his arse. His shirt rode further up exposing the fat boys round hairy gut which wobbled as it grew outwards. Now the shirt resembled that of a bra supporting his large moobs which grew fatter and fatter by the second. His love handles grew wider as well as his hips which became too much for his poor shorts which split into shreds exposing his tight pink underwear he was wearing. Following this was his shirt ripped into pieces leaving his chest to giggle on top of his huge belly. His fat round cheeks turned pink with embarrassment as he felt his almost naked enlarged body on show to everyone. All his limbs had filled with soft lard causing him to jiggle as he looked around at his new huge body. The rest of the group looked at him in shock, and for some enjoyment. Matt was smiling at him looking longingly at Sam's huge fat arse with a strong boner forming in his pants. Sam's growth seemed to slowly come to an end, jiggling to a halt. He now stood at about 600lbs now in tiny pink underwear where the seams were stretched to the max, barely keeping his naked fat body from show. "WONKA WHATS HAPPENED TO ME?!?!? I'M FUCKING MASSIVE" Sam said feeling his belly and his new tits.

"Well yes you are quite big. Much bigger then I would've thought as well. You must have been a little pig and drank loads of my river huh?" Wonka said looking at the fat boy up and down. Sam went bright red in embarrassment. "Right well what to do with a big hog like you then? You can either carry on the tour but I must warn you it's quite the walk and i'm not sure you will fit through a lot of the door ways. I can send you back home now like this?"

"I cant leave looking like this? Are you joking? I was only 160lbs when I entered I'll never hear the end of it"

"You were at least 200lbs when we entered chubs don't lie" Matt chimed up still fixated on Sams huge curves. Sam looked very embarrassed knowing that Matt was right.

"Yes well I guess questions will be asked how you got so... bulky." Wonka took some time to think looking at Sam's huge belly and circling round to his round buttocks. "Well I guess you could become one of my workers? You could become a taste tester? All you do is sit and eat all day and I'm sure you are used to that. You'll be given free accommodation and free food of course."

"You mean I'm stuck like this? You don't have a thing that can burn all this fat?" Sam asked now more defeated.

"I'm afraid not my big boy. The only way to lose this is intense exercise and a diet which demands great will power, which we know you don't have."

"I guess i have no choice then. I'll work for you then Wonka." Sam said now having to accept his fate as a new fat boy.

"Perfect. I'll have my workers take you to the taste testers immediately. You'll fit in just perfectly with the rest of them." Just then a well build strong worker walked up to Sam and grabbed his hand. He started walking towards a larger door then where they entered and led Sam through there, with Sam waddling behind him. All the extra movement led for Sam's remaining clothes to tear apart, leaving nothing to the imagination. Lucky for him his large gut covered his front, but is huge ass was on show jiggling with every move. As they were leaving the rest of the group could see Sams body jiggle and also see the workers excitement at the sight of his. The worker gave his arse a good smack as the doors closed on them. "Oh i do like to give my workers some fun. Right shall we move on then boys?" Wonka said looking at the four boys left. They all were still shocked by what they just saw but were happy to move on.

Matt turned to Will and said "I'm just saying it was a matter of time before he got huge. Wont be surprised if that pig there will follow suit" pointing over to Charlie. Will laughed at him and agreed.

The group then left the chocolate room with just the memories of their big friend Sam. Sam quickly learnt that he can enjoy his new size with the worker taking him to a private room. He showed him just how sexy his new body was Sam soon was begging for more food to keep him nice and plump. I guess some men are into big guys...

So I'm starting this new series about a group of boys who enter wonkas factory and im sure you can figure out what happens next. This is part 1 of 4 (not sure yet) so please show some love if you want the next parts. These take quite a lot of time to write so would love to see some support. Thank you and hope you enjoy!

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bullet-prooflove · 8 months

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Prey! Series - Part One: Trafficked - OA Zidan x Reader

Tagging: @trublu2u @mrspeacem1nusone @greenies-green @rosaliedepp @whateversomethingbruh @anime-weeb-4-life @daydreaming-belle @burningpeachpuppy @scarlettsakura @divergent146 @upsteadlogic @malindacath @skyesthebomb @@kilikonakapamana @yezzyyae @redpool

When Omar first meets you it’s because a young Ukrainian girl has been found bleeding out on someone’s lawn after being stabbed thirty times. She’s lucky to be alive, he’s told at the hospital while he waits for you to arrive. When he thinks of the nineteen bodies they’ve just found buried in the woods and the shallow grave Hailey had clawed her way out of he thinks luck had nothing to do with it. That girl is a fighter through and through.

When you appear, he isn’t prepared for just how pretty you are. You’ve tried to downplay it; no makeup, hair tied away from your face but you’re naturally striking. You’re wearing civvies, black jeans with battered Doc Martens, a light grey tunic top thrown over the top. You’re in the midst of clipping your badge to your hip when he approaches you.

“Sorry.” You greet him, raising your head to meet his eyes. “It was my day off.”

For a moment the entire world falls away and he’s completely captivated by you. This is what the Quran talks about, he thinks, when you meet your soulmate. There’s a sense of tranquillity, of peace. A familiarity that you can’t explain. That’s how he feels when he shakes your hand.

“Hanna Emery.” You introduce yourself. “Human Trafficking Division.”

Hanna

In Hebrew it means compassion.

You certainly live up to your namesake.

He hangs back during the interview. He’s new to the bureau, still finding his feet and he’s experiencing a lot of firsts during this case. Human trafficking is your world, something you’re well versed in he comes to discover as you question Hailey. The technique is different, tailored towards different aspects of the victim’s experience. There’s an emotional intelligence in you that he can’t even begin to fathom.

Through the course of the interview, you learn that Hailey and her sister were trafficked from the Ukraine through an Eastern European employment agency. They were from a small farming community. They each completed a test before participating in a video interview. They’d been ecstatic when they’d discovered they’d been selected for jobs in New York City.

“It’s a scam we see often,” You tell Omar in the aftermath when you’re comparing notes. “They target girls in rural communities, the ones that don’t know any better.”

The girls had been picked up at the airport in a van by three men Snake, Spider and Hog. They’d been transported to a townhouse before descending into what Hailey described as the depths of hell. Your demeanour changes when Hailey mentions the name Snake, it’s a subtle shift, a tension in your shoulders, your eyes flicking upwards.

“Who is he to you?” He’d asked you as he swiped his card over the payment feature of the vending machine. “Snake?”

You’re already tearing open the wrapper of the candy bar he’s just bought you because you’d had to skip out on lunch with a friend to cover his case. Omar figures it’s the least he can do.

“A monster.” You tell him. “I’ve been cleaning up his mess for almost two years now. The shit he’s done to these girls…”

You shake your head as you throw the rest of your half-eaten candy bar into the trash.

It’s when Hailey describes the extent of her abuse that Omar finds himself at a loss. She and her sister Brook were taken to the basement of a townhouse, raped for three days straight. That’s incomprehensible to him, the terror of it, the violation. He has three sisters, the thought of something like that happening to one of them…

It makes him sick.

“It’s a way of breaking them down, keeping them compliant.” You explain to Omar afterwards. “It destroys their hope, erodes their sense of person. They become an object to be used, a vessel for someone else’s pleasure.”

You pause, your fingers toying with the bracelet on your wrist. It’s woven fabric, black, white and red threads all interlocked in an Aztec pattern and secured with a tight knot. It’s a couple of years old, he thinks. He doubts you’ve taken it off since it was given to you.

“They call rape murder of the soul, it’s worse than death. With death there’s peace, an ending. With rape, the person you are is completely obliterated, you can pick up the fragments, but they don’t fit the same way they used to.”

It’s harrowing, hearing it described like that. You must have done thousands of these interviews, heard so many variations of the same story. He wonders if it wears on you, if it takes a little piece of your soul everytime you endure their suffering along with them.

“I’m not sure how you recover from something like that.” Omar says, rubbing his hand over the nape of his neck.

“Some don’t.” You say sadly, your arms crossing over your chest as you look through the window into Hailey’s room. “Hailey though, she’s strong. I think she’s one of the ones that make it.”

“Is it true what you said?” He asks quietly, his shoulder coming to rest against the wall. “Is it really one in five women who get sexually assaulted?”

You sigh as you tilt your head to look at him. He sees the truth of it in your eyes and it devastates him because that means it’s happened to someone that he knows, someone he cares about, and he isn’t sure what to do with that knowledge.

“Yea.” You say softly. “I’m afraid it is.”

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#fbi cbs #oa zidan #oa zidan x reader #oa zidan x you #omar zidan #omar zidan x you #omar zidan x reader

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pareidoliaonthemove · 16 days

Text

Where's Mine?

It was a blessed break in rescues, and Virgil was taking the opportunity to restock his personal snack stashes.

The most important ones would be in Thunderbird Two – both in the cockpit and cunningly secured in the various pod bodies. Rescues could be both arduous and time-consuming, and there was rarely the chance for a proper meal. Their ‘official’ ration bars and packs were all well and good, but each of the Tracys had their own preferences.

Scott’s personal snack stashes were aboard Thunderbird One (and Thunderbird Two, Virgil had found them – and occasionally ‘appropriated’ part as a ‘transport tax’). And were, unsurprisingly, apple-pie themed. Apple-pie flavoured protein bars, apple-pie flavoured cakes, apple-pie flavoured chewing gum, apple-pie flavoured fruit/custards, and one time, even mini-apple-pies in a cold box.

Gordon’s snacks were his ubiquitous Celery Crunch Bars, a left-over from his calorie-controlled Olympic training diet. The noxious green bars (as well as their wrappers and crumbs) occupied Thunderbird Four – and Thunderbird Two. Gordon didn’t bother trying to hide his snack stash – nobody else would eat the disgusting things. And that went double for his ‘cheese’ spray cans.

John’s ‘stash’ was no secret. Thunderbird Five’s kitchen pantry was filled to bursting with bagels – and chocolate. Grandma had long despaired of the astronaut’s diet, and had threatened – numerous times – to blockade John’s supply line and only allow whole fruits and vegetables into orbit. John’s vowed retribution of stopping production of her precious soap operas quickly shut down any attempts to interfere with his diet.

Alan’s snacks were a diabetic crisis waiting to happen. High energy, high sugar snacks graced Thunderbird Three (and Thunderbird Two – Virgil was beginning to think his precious ‘Bird was considered as little more than a mobile snack shack), a rotating roster of brands as Brandon ‘The Bear’ Berringer lost and gained new sponsors. The only exception was the venerable ‘Spaceman Food’, based on NASAs food rations in the early days of manned space exploration.

All the brothers had gone through a phase of hoovering up the highly processed ‘snacks’. Virgil had a memory of insisting that his father eat them constantly – thinking that they were what he ate in space, and not wanting his father to be ‘unhappy’ on Earth. Jeff, whose orbital diet was much better than those early pioneers’, choked down the bars to humour his son. Lucy had finally taken pity on her husband, and convinced Virgil’s younger self that when he was in space his father missed ‘Earth food’, but couldn’t take it into space, so when at home he should be left to eat the same as the rest of the family.

Virgil’s own snacks tended to be more varied. Although there was a definite trend towards coffee-flavours, it wasn’t exclusive. At various times, there could be pre-packaged cakes and cookies, protein bars, dried fruits, chocolates, and various sweets. An outbreak of pilfering from Virgil’s stash had been combated by the inclusion of chocolate-covered grasshoppers, candied ants, and meal-worms with various chip flavours. All of which hadn’t been too bad, Virgil thought. His brothers’ disgust was misplaced, food was food, after all. And good food was good.

And Virgil liked trying new things, so he scoured the online market places for small businesses with interesting, shelf-stable snacks to compliment his tried and true favourites. As he sat on his bedroom floor with the various boxes and containers around him, he was pleased with the assortment this time.

He was sharing out the various incoming supplies to boxes to replenish his various snack stashes. Thunderbird Two – the Pods – his Workshop in the Hangars – Studio – and his ‘Official’ stash in the Villa’s pantry.

The klaxon blared, and John’s hologram popped up. “International Rescue, we have a situation.”

Virgil jumped up, grabbed a box at random, and hurried out of the room.

The situation was in Cairo, a massive sinkhole had opened up beneath four residential blocks of flimsy high-rise buildings at approximately breakfast time. The death toll was massive even before International Rescue had been contacted. All that was left to them was to stabilise the edges to prevent it enlarging beyond the six blocks it had consumed by the time International Rescue had taken control of the Danger Zone, before trying to extract the pathetic few lifesigns before they too blinked from existence.

The heat was intense. It was now noon in the middle of the northern hemisphere’s summer, and the temperature had surpassed the 35 degree Celsius mark hours ago.

The air conditioning in the Pods were good, but it had its limits, and Virgil’s gecko pod had reached it over an hour ago. He was hot, tired, hungry, and still had hours of work to be done.

A moment of realisation had him reaching for a compartment built into the side of the pod body, where he had stashed a handful of the snacks he had brought with him.

Without looking he had fished one out, and brought up into his eyeline. It was a freeze dried ice-cream, a ‘Paddle-Pop’ which was apparently an ‘iconic’ Australian treat.

Virgil had had no idea what flavour ‘rainbow’ was supposed to be, but the concept had been intriguing, and he eagerly tore open the packet now, and, considering, decided to start at the top, sticking part of the treat into his mouth.

It was, he decided, a kind of bubblegum flavour, and the sweetness was welcome, even if he wasn’t convinced by the texture. It had a kind of chewy, gluggy marshmallow feel to it, and Virgil quickly decided that he would let it slowly dissolve in his mouth.

He wondered idly if he could break the remainder into bite-sized pieces for future use, as he refocused on what he was doing.

John’s hologram flared into life in front of him. “Virgil–” John performed a comic double-take as he saw the ice cream in Virgil’s mouth. “Uh, do you have an estimate for when we can commence retrieval operation?”

Virgil eyed his readouts, and performed a couple of quick mental calculations. “Another half to three quarter hour,” he said, pulling his snack from his mouth by its stick. “Alan will be able to start pulling large rubble out of the way with Thunderbird Two, Gordon and Scott can reconfigure the pods for gecko lift, and I’ll go in with my exo-suit. Local rescue to standby and receive victims and remains. We’ve just got to finish coating the bottom of the south-west sector.”

John nodded. “I’ll relay those instructions,” he promised, before giving Virgil another questioning look as the snack was stuffed back into his mouth.

Virgil was going to need a lot of energy, and fast.

An undetected weakness in a the section of the sinkhole that still had to be stabilised blew out Virgil’s projected timeline, and it was over an hour later before he climbed out of his pod in the relative coolness of Thunderbird Two’s module alongside Scott.

“Hey, Virgil! What config for the gecko lifts do you …” Scott’s voice trailed off at the sight of the ‘ice cream’ in Virgil's mouth, before deciding there were more important things to focus on. “Uh. Um. Should I set them up for claw or grapple?”

Once again, Virgil pulled the confectionery out of his mouth by the stick. “One of both to start with. If necessary, the other pod can be reconfigured, but until we start picking that mess apart, we won’t know for certain what we need.”

Scott nodded, and jogged over to the holographic controls, but not without giving Virgil a puzzled look as he shoved his treat a back into his mouth and headed towards his exo-suit.

The exo-suit was wrapped around him, locking into position, and he rolled his shoulders, stretching out before he started the physically intensive part of the rescue.

Jogging back towards the internal access, Virgil headed back to the cockpit, grunting in frustration when he couldn’t sit down wearing the exo-suit. He was going to be on his feet too long soon enough, and he would have liked to save whatever energy he could now.

Alan burst into the cockpit and beelined towards the pilots chair without acknowledging Virgil. Great. The kid was in a snit about being ‘left out’ again – Virgil sighed tiredly, Alan really should have learned by now that it wasn’t his age that had put him in the cockpit, it was his lack of specialisation in this type of rescue.

Alan triggered the comms even as he was adjusting the pilots seat. “Thunderbird 2 to Pods. Please update status.”

Scott’s voice came back immediately. “Thunderbird 2; Gecko Claw Pod. Clear.”

“Thunderbird 2; Gecko Grapple Pod. Clear.” Gordon chirped a handful of seconds later.

“FAB, Pods. Thunderbird 2 commencing lift off to take hover station above Danger Zone.”

Virgil was pleased to note Alan’s professional conduct over the comms. Maybe he had been wrong about the attitude? Maybe Alan was just tired.

“Thunderbird 2 in position. Standing by for extraction and to grab and lift designated targets.”

Alan cut the open comm line, before speaking again. “Alright, Virgil; where am I,” he glanced over his shoulder and started. The jolt went right down his arms and into Thunderbird 2’s control yoke, and she bucked enough that Virgil had to grab hold of the overhead grab bar to steady himself. “Shit, sorry. Um. Where am I dropping you off, Virgil?”

“Language,” Virgil said absently, once he had pulled his snack out of his mouth again. He glanced again at the holographic display of the top levels of the debris pile. “Right next to that two story chunk of apartment building in the centre. That’s my first priority location for search and rescue. That looks like it’ll have a high concentration of survivors.” He frowned. “I know solar power is better than any of the alternatives, but in a situation like this, it really messes with our close range sensors. I wish there was a way to remotely stop the battery discharge.”

Alan nodded. “Be careful. I don’t want to be digging you out again because your exo-suit shorted out with you in it.”

Virgil frowned. “Brains and I reworked the entire grounding system after that. It was a one in a billion chance.”

The little brother snorted. “Yeah, well, Scott had to make a supply run to the mainland for hair dye after that. I don’t wanna have to do the same.”

Virgil chuckled. “No chance, kiddo. You have to shave before you worry about that.”

He took two big bites of his treat, tucking the chunks into his cheeks hamster style before returning the snack to its package in his baldric, and setting his helmet in place and striding over to the floor hatch and locking his grasping claw onto the winch-fed safety line.

Alan double-checked their position. “Good to deploy, Exo-Suit.”

“FAB. Exo-Suit away.”

It was five, long, hot and dusty hours later when John finally called the rescue.

They hadn’t found anyone alive for the last three.

Virgil sighed as he hauled himself into Thunderbird Two’s pod to divest himself from the exo-suit.

No doubt there would be the usual recriminations. Why had they taken so long? Why had the spent the time shoring up the sides? Grieving families rarely understood that first the site had to be made safe for the rescuers. All they saw was people letting their loved ones die.

All they would see was the people who were supposed to save their loved ones flying away and leaving them.

Not all the missing had been accounted for.

Scott was going to have to pay PR another bonus after this one.

Virgil groaned as the weight of the exo-suit disappeared from around him, along with its support. It wouldn’t be the first time he hadn’t been able to stand upright once the framework had been removed from around him. He had learned quickly to leave his helmet on until after he knew he could stand upright.

It had taken a considerable bribe to buy John’s silence as to the exact cause of that broken nose.

Satisfied that he would remain upright, he removed his helmet, and took a deep breath. No matter how much Brains protested, the built-in filters gave the air a distinct taste, and it was a relief to breathe the fresh air of the module.

His stomach gave a growl as he stepped into the internal corridors leading to the cockpit. Virgil idly wondered if he could convince Scott to pick up some takeaway on his way back to the Island as he once again pulled the freeze-dried ice cream from his baldric and stuck it back in his mouth.

John was on the comms as he gained the cockpit. “...giving you a heads-up, Alan. Scott’s already told me to remote pilot Thunderbird One home. Given the duration and environmental conditions of this one, he doesn’t want to risk anyone flying alone. You’ll be taking shifts at the controls all the way back to Tracy Island.”

Alan snorted. “Yeah right. Scott and Virgil will have a hissy fight, Virgil will win ‘cause it’s his ‘Bird, Scott’ll sulk in the co-pilots seat, while Gordon and I are sent back to the bunks to ‘rest’, despite having done the least amount of physical work. Meanwhile, you’ll secretly have remote control and will be flying us home anyway.”

John smiled. “Maybe.”

Virgil flopped into one of the jumpsuits, shucking off his baldric and harness before pulling coverall uniform off his torso and tying the arms around his waist. “Nope,” he mumbled around the confectionery. “The Thunderbird Pilot you’re calling is not available. Please call again when he is conscious.”

Alan and John stared at him. “You okay, Virgil?” Alan asked, standing up to try feel Virgil’s forehead.

He batted the hand away. “Fine, Alan. Nothing that a good shower, a good meal, and a good sleep won’t fix. A good massage would be nice, too. Remember that place in Japan, Johnny?”

“I remember. The masseuse literally walked all over your back for an hour. I don’t know how you stand it. And don’t call me Johnny.” There was a question in John’s face as he considered Virgil. “Say, Vir–”

He was cut off as Scott stumbled into the cockpit to collapse groaning into a chair, followed by an altogether too energetic and bouncy Gordon who slammed, performing a comedic double-take when he noticed Virgil.

“What the seven seas, Big Guy? You have ice-cream and you’re not sharing? Dude, where’s mine? I thought these guys were kidding me! Where’d you even get ice-cream from, anyway?!”

Virgil closed his eyes as his three other brothers joined in on the chorus of questions and recriminations.

Maybe keep the freeze-dried ice creams for his studio in future.

Notes:

This one’s been sitting in my WIP pile for the last six months.

A co-worker had brought a freeze-dry set up and set up a little side-hustle selling freeze-dried snacks. I brought a packet of paddle-pops and amused myself at various loading sites, waiting a couple of hours and pulling out a freeze-dried icecream and sucking on it for the next four hours. In 40deg Celsius heat.

It’s the little things that make life worth living.

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the TOS or CGI Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfic #my fanfic #virgil tracy #scott tracy #alan tracy #john tracy #gordon tracy #snacks

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emmaelix · 2 years

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MHA Boys + Men When You're on Your Period Headcanons

I'm on my period and my boyfriend is on a work trip. And so, I have turned to my magical and animated boyfriends. Slight Spy X Family spoilers, plus some really stupid Naruto references because I think Anime-ception is a thing.

And also I just started watching Spy X Family and holy cow! Why did no one recommend this to me sooner?

Boom Boom Boy: AKA Katsuki Bakugo

Let's get one thing straight. Mitsuki taught this boy well. He knows how everything down there works, and he knows how pads and tampons work. Hell, he even knows about period cups.

He does not, however, know how to use this knowledge in a public setting. His mother, also, did not have bad mood swings during her period. You, on the other hand...

"Damn you! What's wrong with you Loid?!" You yell as you throw the empty wrapper of your favorite candy. Suddenly tears start to flow down your cheeks. "He does care!"

Bakugo is standing there, watching you, trying to figure out what to do. Mina, or mom? Mina, or mom? As he stares at his phone he realizes Mina is probably the better option. "Hello?" Mina answers, surprisingly energetic for the late time.

"Help," is all Bakugo says. Twenty minutes later Mina is knocking on his apartment door, Jirou, Denki, and Kirishima in tow.

"I brought her favorites. Along with these," Mina says, allowing her three companions to step inside. Each held one to two shopping bags.

An hour later and Bakugo has been debriefed. He's as grumpy as you, but at least now he knows why. I mean, what man - actual father or not - lets his wife and daughter be treated like that? Shame on you, Loid Forger.

Mind Control Man: AKA Hitoshi Shinsou

Hitoshi, unlike Bakugo, is not the most well-versed in women. Or people in general, for that matter. He'll be supportive, but he'll be shit at it at first.

Mood swings? He thinks you hate him. Hormonal acne? He offers you a facial. Not wearing white? He tells you you look great in white. Not sitting down? He tells you, "Your feet'll get tired."

He's trying, though. He'll even ask Aizawa for help. I personally headcanon Aizawa keeps period stuff in his desk for the girls.

If you do tell Shinsou you're on your period he's going to be googling until three in the morning. He's going to help you out. He'll even get pads and tampons. By asking Aizawa.

"Here you go, Hitoshi," Aizawa says, handing Shinsou a small box of things. Denki, who was also in the room runs up.

"What was that?" He asks, looking at Shinsou's retreating frame. "I want one!"

Denki now keeps pads and tampons in his dorm room.

If you two stay together and have kids he'll definitely teach them about periods. Male or female, so his kids don't go through what he did when trying to figure out how to help.

Bird Brain: AKA Keigo Takami

Keigo's an adult man, he has female co-workers. He knows how periods work. He also knows how to be a little shit any day of the week, but when he forgets you're on your period and tries to do something annoying, let's just say he sleeps at the office for a while.

Picture the scene. You're watching Naruto in bed, eating a chocolate bar when Hawks comes in. You're on your period, and he would know that if he looked at the red dot on today's date on the calendar. But he doesn't, and that's where his problem arises.

Because you're about to lose what sanity you have left over anime, and Hawks wants to have fun. So as you're diligently watching your computer, cozy on your bed with your favorite blanket, Hawks decides what to do.

"Honey, I have a meeting. You need to come, and since it's Halloween soon it's a costume party. I'm going to dress up as my amazing self."

You knew the bull he was trying to pull. "I'll wear my devil costume," you say, walking over to your closet and pulling out a red and black body con dress, red heels, and horns.

While not comfortable, it was nice to see the bird brain dumbfounded for once as you pulled off your horns before walking into the room, stealing the eyes of all his male (and a few of his female) colleagues.

IcyThot on Thursdays: AKA Shoto Todoroki

Last, but if you say he's the least I'll throw you to Endeavor. Or the Dekusquad/Mina, whoever's closer. :)

This boy has had a very... traumatic life. Suffice it to say periods are not something Endeavor thought Wonder Boy needed to know about.

SHOoOoTOOOOooo

BUT, he has Mina, possibly Jirou, definitely Momo, and their respective boyfriends to turn to. And turn he does, a full 180º.

He's sweet, hot, and portable. The perfect ice/hot pack. There's a reason he's called IcyThot. Whoops, that's hot, isn't it?

Jokes aside, however, he also has his sister, who I'm sure was able to say something to him at some point. Maybe.

Anyway, he's gonna be cuddling you whenever you want. And tracking your cycle.

So that's my headcanons before I run back to my recluse din to work on the next fic. Until next time, my dear simpers, Au Revoir, Arrividerci, and Auf Wiedersehen.

#shoto x reader #bakugo x reader #my hero acedamia #mha #hawks x reader #fluff #hitoshi shinso x reader #katsuki bakugo #shoto todoroki #keigo takami #mha headcanons

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fires-of-ninjago · 1 year

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RGB Sibling Headcannons

Okay, since it's been a while since I've posted something like this, I thought that it was time that I would finally put it all to paper...

Kai:

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Kai is lactose intolerant!

Despite knowing this, he would still take his siblings out for ice cream all the damn time! (Lloyd quickly learned why Nya was always the voice of reason between them)

Nya is a horrible back-seat driver, so whenever Kai's driving, he keeps a chocolate bar hidden within his reach. If she gets on his nerves too much, then he locks all of the windows and starts having himself a little snack...

Lloyd likes to prank him all the time by stealing his chocolate stash and replacing the wrappers with dried licorice.

Totally the most confident driver in the family...just not the most competent.

He doesn't need coffee to start his day, he's just not as much of a grouch if he does.

Nya might be good with mechanics, but Kai's the one who's good at math (It was a shock to everyone when he was able to keep up with Zane's lessons for Lloyd)!

Nya:

Nya has allergies and is allergic to just about everything that's airborne.

Despite all of that, she doesn't have much in the way of food-allergies (unlike her brother)

Nya likes sweets as much as the next person, but Kai made the call when she was young to let her eat herself sick, so now she can only have a little bit of candy before she get nauseous.

She is the most competent driver out of either of her brothers!

Just don't put her in the kitchen, especially early in the morning (unless you're ready to get hit in the face with half of a grapefruit).

Absolutely needs coffee (or some other source of caffeine) to really get a start to her day!

Despite being the Master of Water, she hates being cold and wet (if she's going to be wet, then she'd rather be warm).

She's multi-lingual, as in, she can speak several different languages. She picked them up from all of their adventures...she just can't read any of them for crap.

Lloyd:

Despite growing up and maturing, he still has one hell of a sweet-tooth!

Kai and Nya tried to get him to eat himself sick a few times when he was still a kid, but it didn't work.

He's a decent driver, but he absolutely couldn't drive with either Kai or Nya unless they were in the back seat (and even then, someone else needs to be riding shotgun with him).

Not a morning person, but he has been absolutely banned from having coffee (especially after the Lloyd vs. Jay drag race incident).

He can swim, but Nya never taught him (That was Zane, and yes, he nearly died trying to break his deep-diving record).

Lloyd has a natural ear for languages (thanks to his mother. Wu and Garmadon were crap linguists).

He actually started hyphening his name for a while to Garmadon Jiang after the evil side of his father was resurrected.

#Ninjago #RGB Siblings #Ninjago Kai #Ninjago Nya #Ninjago Lloyd #Lloyd Garmadon #Nya Jiang #Kai Jiang

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amostimprobabledream · 2 years

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Stardust in my eyes (Homelander x Reader)

Also available on Ao3: stardust in my eyes - UnluckyAmulet - The Boys (TV 2019) [Archive of Our Own]

Sometimes, working for Vought just gets to be too goddamn much. Which is why that fateful day, you and a couple of friends had gone to get lunch and in the corner of the canteen for worker bee drones, things went from gossiping about random drama between colleagues to playing an oldie but goldie. You and your friend Claire had been playing Smash or Pass for the past ten minutes and you'd gone through damn nearly every person you knew at work. Obviously, it was all good fun, and you were being careful not to be too loud about it, but as you picked at your lunch, Claire decided to up the ante a bit. Now, it was Smash or Pass: Supe edition. Specifically, you were talking about the Seven. You’d already done A-train and Starlight, both of which you’d said Pass to, while Claire said Smash to both. "Okay, so how about...The Deep?" she said. You made a face. "Ew. Pass." "How come?" "Firstly, he smells of fish.” You say, slurping on your drink. “Like, constantly. Secondly, I heard a rumour he made an intern cry because he was rubbing his crotch against her ass on the elevator ride up, so yeah, no. If I wanted a fucking creep, I could go to any dive bar in the city." “Ew, I didn’t know that last thing.” Claire says, making a face. “Okay, fine, I’m changing my answer to pass too.” You snort, and she points at you. “Hey, don’t judge me! It’s not my fault you’re so picky you’ve said no to like everyone.” "I'm not picky, I'm selective." you counter. "It's not my fault you'd let the Seven pass you around like a Christmas present." Claire scoffs but she can't argue - she's said Smash to way more people than you have, not just Supes or co-workers. "Queen Maeve?" "Pass." "What?!" Claire shrieks. "Why?!" "Because unlike you, I don't have a mommy kink." you say, rolling your eyes. "I dunno, she's not my type. Plus, she always acts so damn bored by everything - she'd probably just expect you to get her off and then kick you out of bed and play fucking Candy Crush or something. No thanks, I don't want to do all the hard work." "Okay, okay...what about Homelander?" You pause.

Okay, that one isn't quite so simple. The Deep, A-Train, Starlight and Queen Maeve were all a fairly straightforward "no" and you haven't gotten to Black Noir yet, but somehow the answer eludes you. Homelander seems so far removed from normal human with their normal, squishy desires that it's difficult to even imagine having sex with him. You're sure you've never seen him out of that costume of his, either. But you're definitely considering it... "You're taking way too long to answer~" Claire singsongs. "Don’t tell me you’ve got a boner for that sexy cape?” "Firstly, shut up. And secondly, yeah, okay, he's attractive but like..." you paused as you try to organise your thoughts, wondering what made you hesitate, except for the whole 'Almighty symbol of America who can shoot lasers from his eyes' thing. "I kinda feel like I'd be getting it on with someone's dad?" You had no idea how old Homelander was, only that he was definitely older than you. Plus, there was his vaguely patriarchal vibe when he addressed the adoring public, like he was steering them onto the right path or something. Not that you exactly opposed to sleeping with older men, per se, but you’d prefer to know how much older somebody was first.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Claire says thoughtfully, chewing on her sandwich as you both stand up to toss your wrappers away and get back to work. “There’s something a little fake about him. And he probably says ‘God bless America’ when he comes or something.” You nearly spit out the last of your soda, and bubbles go up your nose, which makes you hack and cough from an effort of not cackling, pounding your fist on your chest. “Fucking hell, you’re the worst!” you say, giving her arm a playful shove. She smirks and shrugs. “Just being honest. Anyway, we’re not done playing yet. Black Noir?" You think about it. "Smash." ~ You were about to head back to your desk with Claire when Ashley suddenly comes clacking up to you both with her usual harried expression on her face. Some days you feel like she's maybe a hair's breadth away from having a nervous breakdown, and you'd nearly feel bad for her if she wasn't so annoying. You can't pretend you haven't seen her, either, because she calls your name. You make a face at Claire, then turn to Ashley as she approaches. "Hey! I'm glad I caught you. Listen, the Seven have a meeting later on this afternoon but I don’t have time to put their itinerary in the meeting room, can you do it and just make sure everything looks presentable before then?” You suppress the flicker of irritation - what do you look like, a Janitor? "Uh, sure, I guess. It's just the desks, right?" "Yeah, everything else has been taken care of!" Ashley says, looking a little calmer at confirming that nearly every other matter is all perfectly sorted and pencilled into her little schedule. "Thanks so much!" She goes clicking off and you exchange a confused glance with Claire. "That was weird. Why did she ask you specifically?" Claire said. "I have no idea, but at least it'll only take me like five minutes." you sigh. "I'll be back soon." ~

The conference room is so fucking big that you take a second to just stand there and gawk at the panoramic view of the city through the windows, before you snap to attention. You don't want to linger in here - even if you're just here to straighten up the table before the Supes get here for whatever big important meeting they have. You still think it's weird Ashley told you to do it, and it feels even odder to be in here alone. Like you're trespassing. "Let's just get this over with..." you mutter to yourself, crossing the room and beginning to put the piles of papers on each table, starting from Starlight's seat and working your way around. After a few minutes you relax. It's even a little nice, getting a couple of moments away from everyone else. Vought is a massive office building but there's nowhere to be really alone - people are always sneaking out the fire escapes for a smoke, the toilets have gossiping employees, the canteen full of people with differing lunch shifts, etc. There's always a buzz, always endless humming in the background. You've compared the place to a beehive before for good reason. You're just about done, wondering if by doing this, Ashley was testing you or something - maybe she wanted to see you could be trusted in here, and now you've basically finished, you've passed and she might think about putting in a good word for you to the higher-ups, when a voice damn near give you a heart attack: "Lost in thought?" You shriek and drop the handful of papers you were holding. When you look around, the Homelander is standing there. You didn't even hear him come in. For a minute you're so startled you just stare at him - it's like seeing a snow leopard, something impossibly exotic and rare, and the fact he's even talking to you is even more of a surprise. Your heart is pounding loudly in your chest, and you wonder if he can hear it - he's smiling like you've just told a good joke. "Oh, Homelander!" you say, because it's what he tells all the staff they should call him, pressing a hand to your chest. "You scared me. Um, I can leave, I'm pretty much done here." His familiar smile only widens, and he gestures with a flick of his wrist. "Don't let me stop you. Might as well finish up what you came to do, right?" You awkwardly smile in response, unsure of what else to say, and go to grab the papers you dropped, blood rushing through your ears. You're hyperaware of him in the room, where he rightfully belongs, while you just wound up here because Ashley needed somebody to do some last-second grunt work. When you put the stack of files on Black Noir's desk and pointlessly straighten them, Homelander speaks again, pacing a little closer. "You know...you should probably be a little more careful about what you talk about with your friends while you're in the building." You freeze. Oh shit. "I mean...I guess you had no way of knowing who was listening, but...well, let's just say, it was pretty hard not to tune in, you know?" Oh my god. You went to melt through the floor. You straighten up to watch Homelander, who has an expression that's slightly chiding but amused, like you're a little kid who's learned a new swear word or something. He doesn't seem angry, but the thought he overheard you and Claire paying fucking Smash or Pass is enough to ignite your anxiety like a spark to gunpowder. "I-"

"I gotta say, you're not wrong about The Deep - he does fucking stink of fish," Homelander says conspiratorially. "Your little friend didn't seem to mind that, but she said Smash to nearly everyone. You though - you didn't seem interested in anyone besides Black Noir - I'll have to let him know, I don't think he's seeing anyone right now. Though who fucking knows, with that guy?" You feel like it's probably not the time to point out you did also admit you thought he was hot. You've got to do some damage control, here. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean - I wouldn't have said that if I didn't think it was being overheard." you blurt out hurriedly. This is a disaster. You want to strangle Claire, the fucking game was her dumb idea in the first place, she's the one who should be getting told off by Homelander, not you! "It- it was just a stupid game to pass the time." He cocks his head. "Was it?"

"I mean...it's not like...you're not..." you say, babbling like a fucking lunatic, doing anything you can to backpedal out of this. This has to be a dream - a fucked-up one. "You guys are Supes, so it's a totally moot point anyway! I-You- you were dating Queen Maeve until recently, right? It's not like you'd want to...I mean, we're just normal people and you're..." "Oh, I don't know about that." Homelander says, his tone almost jaunty, stepping a little closer. His hands are tucked behind his back, which makes you nervous, because you can't tell what he's going to do with them. "Let's see what we're working with here. Turn around." "What?" you splutter. "Go on." Homelander says, making a circular motion with his finger. "Do a spin for me." You feel queasy, like you need to go pop an antacid tablet, but what can you do? If he wanted to, he could well have you fired. Or chased out of town. Or maybe even deported. Who knows? You'd probably deserve it, to be honest - what the hell were you thinking, letting Claire rope you into that stupid Smash or Pass game?! Of course, you had no idea he was in the building at the time and could hear you, but still! Slowly you turn all the way around, aware of Homelander's eyes on you the entire time, heart pounding in your chest. When you turn back to him, his head is tilted slightly, mouth parted like he was about to say something. "Huh." was all that came out.

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from demanding to know what 'huh' means. Unfortunately for you, he decides to share. "You know...the dress code for you people isn't very flattering, is it?" he muses. "I hadn't thought about it before. But you...huh. I think you've got a lot more going on under there." He gestures at you, a kind of 'go on' hand movement. "Take it off." It's not a suggestion, it's an order. A command. Your face prickles with shame, unable to quite grasp this is actually happening to you. And from Homelander - Mr. America himself. You're naive to be so shocked - around here, he may get treated like a god, but he's still just a man. "Go on." Homelander says, smiling, and you can't stop looking at those prominent canines. "Show me." You can't procrastinate further, lest he get impatient enough to strip you himself, or even worse, laser off your clothes or something. He probably wouldn't be overly bothered if he scorched your skin too, and the thought makes you sick. He could just use his X-ray vision if he wanted to, but that's not what this is. This is a punishment and you'd be stupid to make it any worse for yourself. You'll be lucky if you walk out of this room with your job. Your fingers shake as you unbutton your shirt and you keep peeking anxious glances at Homelander, but it's impossible to read his mood just by looking at him - his expression could be anything, bored or annoyed or merely waiting. It's eerie. He says nothing as you drop your shirt on the ground - you don't quite dare put it on the table or one of the chairs, so you're just grateful you know for a fact the floor has been vacuumed recently. But you can feel his never-wavering gaze on you like a weight as you keep going. You're down to your underwear and bend down to unzip your boots when he finally says something. "No, leave those."

You straighten up hurriedly, even though you really don't want to. This is beyond humiliating - America's golden boy is seeing you in just a bra and panties, for fuck's sake. They don't even match. Your face is burning and a squirming sensation writhes in the pit of your stomach, like you're about to pass out or puke or both. Homelander prowls around you like a lion, taking in everything from all angles, and you have to ball your hands into fists to stop yourself from covering yourself with your arms. You don't think you've ever felt so naked before, even if you're still technically clothed. His boots click as he comes to a stop right behind you. "You're shaking." Homelander mocks you, his breath hot on your neck. You can feel the heat of him right behind you, like you're standing right in front of a sun lamp. "Yeah," you say in one breath, even though you didn't think he was looking for a verbal response. He spins you around to face him, his grip bruisingly strong on your upper arms. He's smiling like he's won something, and his eyes slide down to your tits, eyelashes casting tiny shadows across his cheeks. "Yeah," he says softly, more to himself than you. "I'd fuck you." The words barely have time to register in your shellshocked brain before he's on you. His hand tangles in your hair to jerk your head back and you let out a squeak of pain, but it's muffled by his mouth on your, hot and vicious and unyielding. There's nothing tender about the kiss - he kisses you like he wants to devour you, a growl in the back of his throat that honest-to-god make your knees buckle. He's not shy about feeling you up either, hands roaming over your body like it’s a toy that he’s just ripped the wrapping paper off of, manhandling you however he wants and all you can really do is go with it, heart pounding like a goddamn jackhammer. This has gotten so out of hand so quickly that it’s dizzying trying to make sense of any of it. …So why is a little part of you enjoying this? Just why is there a wet patch pooling at the crotch of your panties and your skin erupting in tingles wherever he touches you? He snaps your bra open, ruining the clasp, and wastes no time in fondling your tits, the material dragging over your sensitive skin breaking them out in goosebumps. They’re fucking soft against his palms, hands that have killed, killed and killed again, but here he is massaging your tits like they’re priceless objects. He lowers his face and runs his tongue over them, and you nearly collapse right then and there – it’s like a fucking livewire pressed straight to your skin. He hums in approval at how responsive you are, teasing your nipples with the pads of his thumbs. Apparently Homelander is a tits guy – that’s definitely never come up in any interviews before. Why are you finding yourself so fucking humiliated and wanting him to do more? Knowing you can’t do anything to stop him? Homelander pulls back for air and slowly swipes his tongue across his bottom lip – the taste of your lipgloss lingers, something sweet that makes him hard, dick pressing against his suit. You stare back at him, caught in the fragile place between lust and disgust. He likes that look on you, hair all messed up, pupils blown wide until there’s barely any iris left, just a thin circle of colour wrapped around blackness, and your lips look red-raw and swollen from his rough mouth. He smirks. “Don’t tell me you’re enjoying this,” he teases, sliding a hand down to your hip and squeezing. “You like getting ordered around, huh? Like being told what to do?” He doesn’t give you time to confirm or deny it – a second later he’s casually shoving his hand into your underwear, smirking as your mouth drops open in disbelief, his fingertips teasing against your slit. It drives a moan from your mouth, and he grins, holding you in place with his free hand, like he knows you’re tempted to bolt.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet,” he hisses, plunging his fingers deeper inside your cunt and you gasp, making a pointless grab at his arm – to steady yourself, to get your bearings, you don’t know. “I think you were lying before – Pass, my ass. I’ve barely touched you and you’re soaked. Do you go home and fuck yourself thinking about me?”

“Homelander…” you moan, you can’t help it. Your head is swimming and his fingers are so thick and he’s relentless, pushing and pushing you without a care in the world about what might happen. Whether it’ll break you or not.

“Go on,” he whispers, working his fingers in and out of you, clamping you to his chest with an arm around your back so he can watch the emotions flashing across your face like his own personal picture show. “Say my name.” “Nn- Homelander!” “Louder.” “Homelander!” And then, as it starts to get fucking unbearable, the intoxicating fog blanketing your brain rendering you unable to concentrate on anything else, when you’re gonna fucking cum all over his fingers, he stops. Pulls his hand free. Your expression drops, surprise and outrage making your eyes snap to him. “Wha-?” “Didn’t think it’d be that easy, did you?” he all but purrs, clearly taking deep amusement in your bewilderment. “You fucking desperate little slut. You’ll come with I say you can.” He makes a show of wiping his slick-coated glove off on the back of The Deep’s chair, before he looks back down at you and something in his gaze makes you stand stock-still, a classic prey response to being stared at by a predator. “Now,” he says, and there’s no forced geniality in his voice anymore, his tone not far away from being a growl. “What was it I said a minute ago?”

Oh, jesus christ. You think, which you’re pretty sure wasn’t what he was aiming for. “Aah, yeah, I remember now,” he says, nodding. “I said I’d fuck you.” The room spins as he abruptly grabs you and aggressively turns you round, and next thing you know you’re bent forwards over the very desk you’d just spent the last fifteen minutes tidying – he only needs one hand pressing down on your back to hold you down. You hear his ragged breathing and the sound of his belt being loosened, and you squeak as he yanks down your underwear like he’s personally offended by them – you’re sure you hear something rip – and he’s back against you, so hot it’s like a furnace and oh shit, wait, he’s going in raw?! You grab pointlessly at what’s in front of you, papers crumpling in your sweaty fists. He does not go gentle as he thrusts into you and all you can do is make a strangulated keening noise – he’s so thick, filling you up and stretching you out. You bury your face into your forearms, muffling your gasps and squeaking against your skin because the noises he’s driving from you are making you want to combust with embarrassment. Not that he can’t hear them anyway – he’s made the fact he has superhearing more than plain, after all. But he can’t help finding it endearing you’d even bother to try hiding it – like anybody would dare walk in and interrupt him right now. Not after he specifically told Ashley to keep everyone away from the meeting room while he dealt with you. “Fuck, you’re tight…” Homelander growls as he thrusts into you, his own words being drowned out by moaning of his own. “So fuckin’…” You stare at the doors across from you, terrified somebody’s going to come in and see you like this, getting fucked by Homelander like a bitch in heat – he hasn’t even taken off his gloves but here you are, only the straps of your bra and a pair of over-the-knee boots covering you. Homelander removes the hand from your back and grips your hips with enough force that you yelp in pain – it’s nothing close to what he could really do, but you know you’re going to have hand-shaped marks there later. Not that you care much with how he’s fucking you with total abandon now, and each stroke of his cock drives you closer and closer to your breaking point and you cling onto the table with one hand like it’s going to help you somehow. “Still feel like you’re fuckin’ someone’s dad?” Homelander taunts you as his thrusts start to get sloppier, more erratic, and you groan to have your words thrown back at you. “No, no, Homelander, I- “ He pinches your clit and rolls it between his fingertips, and you keen out loud, nearly sobbing with pleasure and pain at the same time. Your head is buzzing with the stimulation, trapped between so many sensations, terror of getting caught, of getting so close to relief, panic that he’ll go too far and break something, of what he’ll do with you when he’s finished… “No, no,” he chides you, clicking his tongue like you’ve given him the wrong answer in a quiz. “Call me daddy, if that’s how you see me.” Is he serious? You have no idea if he means it or if he’s just being a bastard, but a particularly hard thrust that actually nudges both you and the table forwards has you saying it anyway, babbling like a lunatic. “Sorry- agh- daddy, fuck, that feels so good-!” “Thassit…nnh…I’m gonna…fuck you full of my cum…” he pants and it sends a bizarre buzz of pride through you that you managed to make a Supe short of breath. “And you’re gonna take all of it, aren’t you? Take all of my cum…”

Like you have a choice, since he didn’t bother to put any protection on. But you’re too lost in your own orgasm to care, the force of it rendering you utterly blissed out, too busy riding that glorious, tingling high to care much about anything else going on, even if you can’t ignore the hot, sticky flood as he comes, and fuck there’s so much of it, how are you going to go back to work like this?? Homelander makes a sound between a groan and a snarl as he comes and you know you’ll be hearing that noise in your dreams.

Finally, it stops. For a moment neither of you move or speak, except for panting breaths, and you want to look behind you to see what mood he’s in now, but you don’t quite dare. He moves away and you slump onto the floor, because you’d really rather not have your naked ass just there on display across the table. You feel blindly across the floor for your skirt and tug it on as Homelander tucks himself back into his suit and sniffs once, swiping a hand through his hair. You can’t find your fucking underwear, you realise with a stab of panic – he must have literally ripped them straight off you, so you wouldn’t be able to put them back on anyway, so you just shove your arms through your shirt and try in vain to button it with trembling fingers.

“Tell Ashley the room’s ready now,” Homelander says, and his voice is impersonal, like he’s done nothing more than take care of some trivial order of business. You can only nod and get to your feet, wobbly as a newborn deer. Homelander smirks as he watches you from the side of his eye, you look so pathetic and off-balance he’s almost tempted to fuck you again, but he does have work to get back to. You’re off the hook – for now. When you get to the doors, you pause and look back at him. It would probably be better to just leave with whatever semblance of dignity you still have intact, but you have to ask him.

"Um...do I... I mean like...I still have a job, right?" you hedge nervously. "What?" Homelander glances over at you laughs, like this is the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. "Did you think I was going to hand you your fucking notice?" Yes? No? You had no idea what he was going to do. But you just shrug, because it seems safer than speaking. He scoffs and gives his head a shake, but his gaze drags down your body and your stomach clenches again, despite what’s just happened. “Run along and get back to work like a good girl,” he says softly, but loud enough you can hear every word just fine. “I think we’ll be seeing each other again real soon.” You can’t muster a response to that, so you just nod and hurry out, trying your utmost not to break into a run, lest he be tempted to give chase. You pass a mirror on your way down the corridor and the sight makes you freeze. You look like you’ve been mauled by a wild animal, and you can smell Homelander’s cologne all over you. You probably reek of sex. You’re not sure how far that is from the truth, to be honest. Hopefully you can make it to the toilets on this floor without anybody seeing you and tidy yourself up a bit – you can’t go back to your desk like this. And you can only hope to god nobody finds your discarded panties in there because Ashley would likely figure out how and why they got there. At least I still have my job. You think, even if you know it will never be the same now – you’ll never be able to look at Homelander, or any of his posters or action figures or T-shirts – without thinking about his hands on you, of him watching you strip with that hungry look on his face, ever again. Maybe it will fade in time, maybe not. Maybe Homelander has fucked half the people in the building on equally flimsy pretenses, or you could be the first time he’s indulged himself like this. He might forget all about you, or you could forever be known as ‘that mouthy assistant I fucked once’. You have no idea.

And that’s maybe the scariest thing of all – not knowing what comes next. ~ Meanwhile, Homelander stands in the meeting room, awaiting the rest of the Seven to enter. In his hand he toys with the now-ruined pair of underwear you’d had on earlier – you were so fucked out you hadn’t even him notice him swipe them off the floor. He’ll hang onto them as a…souvenir, if you will.

His superhearing picks up the sounds of the others approaching, and he turns, plastering on a smile as he approaches his desk. A tongue swipes across his bottom lip, a lingering taste of that sweet flavour – cinnamon or butterscotch, something that reminds him of dessert – only sealing your fate further.

After all, when you get a taste of something like that, why wouldn’t you go back for a second bite?

#Homelander x Reader #Homelander x You #The Boys (2019)#The Boys imagines #Fanfiction #Blogging #Writings #Smut #PWP

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seaside-stories · 5 months

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HaKodesh Kadosh (Take me to Shul)

nsfw, religious imagery, ~1500 words

It was his brother’s bar mitzvah. His mother was absolutely livid when we walked in a half hour after shacharit had already started. She couldn’t chew us out since she was sitting at the front of the room, closest to the bimah, so she settled on giving us death stares. We both grabbed siddurs and he grabbed a kippah before we both went our separate ways, on opposite sides of the mechitza.

It didn't really matter to me which side of the mechitza I sat on, but I chose the women’s side that day to try to allay his mother’s fears of us disrupting the service after the transgression of coming in late.

I picked a seat all the way in the back. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to show support for the bar mitzvah boy and his family, it’s just that sometimes the rabbi can go on for a long time, and I want to be able to pull out my book without judgment.

Today, though, I was feeling rather spiritual. I abandoned my book in the siddur holder attached to the back of the seats in front of me and stood with the congregation. I said kaddish with them and sang along as they took the torah out of the aron and paraded it around the sanctuary. They even brought it all the way to where I was sitting so I could plant a little kiss on it.

I kept my eye on the person carrying the torah as they took it up to the bimah. They started to undress it, removing the cloth cover, velcro band, and adornments that kept it safe while it sat in the aron, waiting to be used.

“I wish that could be us,” said a voice from the other side of the mechitza. I didn’t have to pull the curtain aside to know that it was him.

“Are you serious? Right now?” I hissed. If it was any other situation I’d be inclined to humor him. But this felt a little sacrilegious.

“Oh come on, I know you’re thinking it too. Plus, he’ll become a man whether I’m here or not, we may as well have a little fun while we’re here.”

I said a silent prayer for forgiveness and reminded myself that sex is technically a mitzvah.

I closed my siddur, put it in the holder attached to the seat in front of me, and slipped my hand behind the mechitza. His hand met mine and he interlocked our fingers. He brushed his thumb over the back of my hand for a minute, testing the waters.

I heard the sound of fabric against drywall in addition to the feeling of his weight shifting. I realized he’d moved from his seat to the floor and I followed suit. As soon as I got comfortable he got bolder. He moved our hands from his side to my side, and he rested them on my thigh.

He unclasped our hands and placed his palm on my leg. He didn’t stop the rubbing of his thumb, moving it from the back of my hand to my inner thigh. They had finished undressing the torah by now and had already called up some family member for the first aliyah.

As the bracha was read, his hand climbed higher and higher until it rested just before my most sensitive spot. I let out a shaky breath before placing my hand over his, guiding it onward.

“Amein,” the crowd sang out, and he sang it with them as he expertly slipped his hand under my clothes. I stifled a gasp as he ran his fingers through my pubic hair. I peered behind the mechitza and saw him looking dead ahead. He was playing the part of the perfect older brother, the good Jewish boy. But for a moment, he glanced over at me and flashed a sultry grin. I prayed the sound of crinkling candy wrappers would mask whatever noises I made.

After a few minutes he got bolder, moving his fingers so that they brushed against my sex. He worked them back and forth, with varying pressure, knowing just how to push my buttons and make me groan. He kept going, through the second and third aliyah, at a lazy pace, ignoring my hushed requests for him to speed up.

Then, all of a sudden, he stopped. I looked over and he got up almost mechanically, taking out a travel pack of kleenex and wiping his hands on it. I watched as he walked up to the bimah and put on a tallit. I mentally smacked myself. Of course he was reading from the torah. He’s the bar mitzvah boy’s brother. I saw him adjust his kippah and take the yad in his hand. Some people I didn’t recognize stood beside him and said the bracha, and then he began to read.

I tried to follow along in a chumash, but I couldn’t. I was still so distracted by his touch. I could feel the pulsing arousal in my core and I couldn’t ignore it. Eventually I worked up the courage to bring myself to the front of the sanctuary; to sit next to the bimah. I brought my chumash with me and I sat myself down right near where he was standing. He couldn’t see me yet, he was too focused on reading, but when he was done, he looked around and caught my eye. He came around to the right side of the table where the torah was being held, holding my gaze the entire time. I wondered if he was going to bend down and say something to me, when I noticed his hands were moving. He gestured to me, then to him, and then to the aron. I cocked my head at him. He wasn’t seriously suggesting…?

Before I could clarify his attention was taken by the chazzan, who was asking him to recite a bracha. Only two more aliyot before he would be able to sit down with me again.

Or so I thought. I had forgotten that the rabbi enjoyed speaking at length to the celebrating family. He was stuck up there for what felt like a million years. The rabbi droned on and on about community and adulthood and whatnot before finally giving the family a little baggie full of assorted judaica. I caught his eye one last time before he sat down next to his brother. He mouthed something to me, which looked a lot like “meet me behind the aron” before turning to face the front of the room, acting as if nothing had happened.

I sat on my hands all throughout musaf, trying to keep my mind on the prayers instead of where it wanted to go. I forced myself to say the words of the kaddish in earnest and I tried my best to follow along through the recitation of the amidah. But the end of the service couldn’t come fast enough. When the rabbi finally said the bracha over the wine, it took everything in my power to not race up to the bimah.

As calmly as I could, I ascended the small steps and looked around for him. I didn’t see him at first, but then I heard a hiss from behind me.

“Over here!”

I turned around to see a hand poking out from behind the aron. Inconspicuously, I went around the side to find that there was a small crawl space behind the aron that I had never known about, and that he had discovered. He beckoned me inside and I gladly took his invitation.

Neither of us wasted any time on pleasantries. We were both too worked up. He quickly slipped his fingers under my clothes once more and I took this opportunity to finally kiss him. I kissed him long and hard, moaning into his mouth as he worked his magic, flooding my senses with pure arousal. I bucked my hips, grinding into his hand, and he laughed softly.

“You’re so worked up,” he whispered. “Maybe we should come here every week.”

I didn’t know if the pun had been intended, but even if it wasn’t he sped up his handiwork. I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer, and I tried to warn him. He simply shushed me and enveloped my mouth in another kiss. I continued to muffle breathy moans into his mouth as he pushed me over the edge and helped me through the aftermath.

Afterward I wanted to fall limp, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. I hadn’t realized how much energy I had devoted to this, but now that I had lost it I just wanted to fall asleep. He beckoned me closer and pulled my head onto his lap.

“Don’t worry about falling asleep,” he reassured me. “Everyone’ll be back for seudat shlishit. They won’t even know we’re gone. His words calmed my nerves, and I was able to fall into an easy doze.

#ss writes #mine #writing

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dominimoonbeam · 1 year

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The Other Way

To @ejunkiet, my beloved.

A David/Angel slight au. The meet cute in the woods.

The Other Way

Angel hated hiking.

Why had they even agreed to this?

Okay, that was easy to answer. They hadn’t agreed, it had been a team building work thing and it was bullshit! And honestly, they’d been all for it and having a great time right up until they realized they were lost.

At first, they hadn’t exactly admitted to themselves that they were lost but now it was becoming unavoidable. The sun was setting and it was getting cold.

“Oh shit, oh shit,” Angel whispered every time they held their phone up to stare at that no service symbol. Fucked, that’s what they were! Fucked!

A branch broke and something whined.

Angel spun toward it, clutching their phone tightly to their chest and staring into the trees. “Hello?”

Oh, that was great. Real smart.

Another whine.

Angel jumped back a step, eyes feeling like they might pop out of their head any second. “Is someone there?”

Of course, no one was there! That was clearly an animal sound!

But it was a hurt animal sound…

They had to see if it was okay, didn’t they?

No! Of course, they shouldn’t do that! What if it was a bear or something and ate them!

What if it wasn’t a bear and they could help?

What if it was a bear but they still could help?

They had a responsibility to try!

Or did they?

Angel thought this whole situation was definitely the fault of their boss. They should never have been put in the wilderness to make these decisions! They were a city person! And if they saw a lost dog or a cat in a tree or a bird with a broken wing they sure as shit did something about it.

Was this different?

“Oh fuck,” Angel exhaled, pocketed their useless phone, and inched forward through the trees.

They quickly came up on the base of a rocky slope, a ledge of more trees far above, and there, on the ground, was a dog.

Angel hurried closer at that familiar shape pulling at their heartstrings, and then stopped short when they were close enough to realize this was absolutely not a dog.

They’d never seen a wolf before and certainly never imagined they could get this big.

It whined and twitched, legs curling in and scratching at the ground as he tried to get up.

Angel exhaled soothing sounds, inching closer. “Woah, okay… take it easy,” they tried in their gentlest voice.

The big canine jerked, panting, one eye lulling to the side to look at them.

His eyes were so yellow. Angel stopped again, hands out as if they needed to show this wolf with their palms that they meant no harm.

He huffed and tried to get up again, almost managing it before falling down again, one of his front legs clearly broken.

“Hey, take it easy,” Angel said, pulling their backpack of and squatting beside his head. He was big. Really big. Way too big to be normal. Angel pulled out their water bottle. “If I had cell service out here I could google what to do about your leg… For now, here,” they emptied their bag on the ground and then used the waterproof lining to create a bowl out of it, pouring all the water from the bottle in right by the wolf’s snout.

It looked at them again and Angel could have sworn it was scrutinizing them. Were wolves always this expressive? They got the sense he was judging them… But then he huffed and lapped up the water.

Angel smiled, relieved, and sat cross-legged beside him. They tried to pet him, but he rumbled a clear snarl, so they stopped.

They grabbed the candy bars they’d packed for lunch and unwrapped one, holding it out toward the wolf’s muzzle.

It eyed them again and they were definitely sure he was judging them now. “It’s all I have. I didn’t exactly know I’d find you.” They waved the candy close to his mouth.

He snapped at it, taking the whole them in a smooth snatch and twist. Like he knew exactly how a wrapper worked and how to leave it behind in their grip. His teeth were huge! Angel laughed excitedly. “Wow! You’re big!”

The wolf actually snorted and then whined and dropped its head down again, like this had been too much effort right now.

Angel nodded. “You sleep. I’ll keep watch for help.”

The wolf didn’t snort this time but it didn’t try to leave either.

Angel ate a candy bar and tried to think of a way to get them help. Eventually someone should come looking for them… They really were important at their company. They couldn’t see their boss just ditching them out there…

About an hour later it was dark and cold. Angel hugged their knees and watched the stars. “Tomorrow will be better,” they told the wolf, teeth clattering.

It stirred enough to huff, which sounded like a wolfy “yeah right” if ever they’d heard one.

And then the wolf moved a little, whining at the effort but settling it’s head closer to them, against their side. Angel froze for long seconds, expecting it to growl at them for the contact even though he had initiated it. There was no growling, just that deep even breathing of sleep and the warmth radiating off that thick fur. Angel leaned closer and closer, until they were pressed against the side of the wolf’s neck, their cheek to its shoulder and their body pressed in as close as they could get.

When they woke up, it was morning.

The wolf huffed and tried to get up again, almost managed this time and growled angrily when it didn’t.

“You’re getting better!” Angel said when he seemed discouraged.

The wolf bared teeth but didn’t snarl, head on its paws again.

Angel fed it another candy bar.

“We might need more water soon… I think there was a stream… That way?” they said, trying to decide which way they had seen a stream. The wolf looked dubious. Angel put their empty water bottle in their bag. “I bet I can find it…”

He rumbled, clearly uncertain of this plan.

Before Angel could get up, a string of howls echoed far away from the woods on the ridge above. It was so faint, but it was there and the wolf lifted his big head to try to see up the cliffside.

It tried to howl, the sound caught in its throat before it seemed to give up and drop its head again, eyes shut and breathing labored.

That must be his pack.

Angel cupped their hands to their mouth and howled as loud and as best as they could up toward the trees at the top of that ridge.

The wolf’s yellow eyes flung open and his head jerked to the side to stare at them.

Angel did it again and they both waited.

Nothing.

Angel sighed and got up. “Okay. I’m going to go… that way, and look for the stream. I’ll be back.”

The wolf rumbled.

Angel started walking but only got a couple steps.

“It’s the other way, dumbass!” a gruff, strained voice snapped.

Angel jumped, almost falling down in their surprise as they spun back around.

The wolf was gone.

GONE.

There was a man laying on the ground in the same spot, a broken arm to his chest and the side of his face bruised.

“What. The. Fuck!” Angel gasped out.

He rolled his eyes, wincing as he tried to sit up. “You have got to be the stupidest person I have ever met!”

“Excuse you?” Angel snapped, clutching the straps of their bag and marching those few steps back to him. He was a big man. He had been a big wolf. Really? Really!? Yes. “Fuuuuck. I’ve lost my mind.”

“Oh, I think you lost it way before you found me. I can’t believe you tried to pet me.”

“You… You…”

“I could have fucking killed you! What if I’d been an actual wild animal? Are you insane?”

“You were hurt!”

“I could have killed you!”

“But you didn’t!”

They stared at each other.

Angel frowned at the state of him. He looked a lot more banged up as a person than a wolf. “So…You fell?”

“Obviously,” he snapped.

Angel nodded. Of course, he was pissy, his arm was definitely broken. They stood there awkwardly for another second and then took a step back. “Okay, so… I’m going to go look for water and—”

“Wrong. Way.” He ground out.

Angel blinked.

He looked up at them again and then pointed with his good arm in the other direction. “The stream is that way.”

Angel smiled sheepishly and shuffled in that direction. “Okay. Cool. Be right back… What-What was your name again?”

He cringed and laid back down. They weren’t sure if he was in pain physically or if this was his dramatic mental anguish, either way they decided to let him have it. He was clearly having a worse time of things than they were. “I didn’t tell you. Fucking covert… If I die I guess it won’t be my problem anyway…”

Angel waited while he grumbled to himself.

“David.”

Angel smiled. It was a surprisingly normal name for a wolf person. They inched closer, pulled out their last candy bar, and put it next to him. He glared. He really did look a lot the same as he had as a wolf… “In case you get hungry or… you know…”

“In case you get lost again and can’t find me?” His voice pitched in shock as he said it.

Angel shrugged. They were just turning to go when he grabbed their leg. They looked down, marveling at the size of his hand wrapped around their ankle. And then they heard it, that low growling.

“Don’t move,” he said, voice low and just above a whisper.

A wolf stepped from the trees, followed by another to the left.

Angel blinked. “Are they… like you?” they whispered, but felt their stomach dropping in a way that told them they weren’t that lucky. These wolves were smaller than he had been. Three more came into view, lips curled and teeth bared, something about it making tears prick Angel’s eyes. “Oh shit…”

David growled, the sound far from human.

Angel felt like there was a weight on their chest, pressing hard, squeezing tears and air out of them.

He still had his hand around their leg, the squeeze solid but not bruising. His hand slid up, past their knee, to their thigh. He pulled them back, until they were shuffling around his side and he was letting go to push them behind him. He struggled to his feet, one arm still curled to his side.

The wolves snapped, moving closer.

Angel’s back hit the rock wall.

David shifted right in front of them and their mind tried to absorb the image of a man turning into a wolf. He snapped massive jaws and for an instant the wolves flinched back, startled, but he staggered with that broken leg and what looked like broken ribs too. Still he snarled, like yes, he was hurt, but no he wasn’t going to let them get past him.

Angel wasn’t sure if it was a bluff or not. They weren’t sure it mattered.

And then, just when two of the wolves were about to lunge in on him, a third aiming to dart around at Angel, a massive brown wolf surged in from the side, slamming into the one that had been aiming for Angel and snatching one of the others by the neck.

Angel held their breath, unblinking as two wolves descended on that whole pack, breaking up their hope of a meal in a matter of seconds and sending them all running.

David shifted into human again, knees hitting the ground with a grunt of pain.

The brown wolf that had shown up first cast a glance between him and Angel before shifting into a man too, catching David by the shoulders to steady him. “Hang on, big guy. We found you.” He looked at Angel again, smirking. “And you found…”

Angel perked up, scrubbing the tears from their face. “I found him,” they corrected.

The third wolf shifted too, coming over to kneel beside David and get a look at the damage.

“I’m Asher,” the standing one said, smiling.

David groaned. “Don’t introduce yourself! They’re a fucking covert disaster already…”

Angel ignored him, stepping up and offering their hand and their name.

Asher took it with the hand not propping up his friend. “Were you the one howling?”

Angel grinned. “You heard me?” They tapped at David’s back. “See! It worked! I saved you!”

David growled. “You did not.”

“They kind of did…” the third wolf begrudgingly mumbled. “Your arm is broken and so are your ribs. Do you want me to get a healer out here or do you think you can make it back to the road if we carry you?”

“There are healers?” Angel started bouncing but stopped when it made them feel lightheaded.

Asher’s gaze flicked over them curiously. “You’re a hiker?”

“I’m lost,” Angel explained.

David snorted like it was an understatement.

Angel laughed. “Screw you, dude, you’re lucky I got lost. I saved you!”

David groaned. “I don’t care if you throw me over your shoulder, Milo, just get me the fuck out of here.”

The one next to him, Milo, smiled like he was trying not to. “With those ribs, it’s more likely to be bridal style, boss…”

“What about them?” Asher asked, still looking at Angel. Why was he staring like that? It wasn’t a scary stare or a creepy stare…

“Leave them,” David grumped.

Asher smiled. “They’re about to faint…”

David swung around to stare up at Angel.

Angel blinked back, white spots in their vision. “No, I’m not.” The white spots grew and their stomach felt all jellylike.

The last thing they saw was panic on David’s face. “Asher!” he yelled and just as their legs gave out, the other man stepped in and caught them.

#Angel/David #redactedverse #redacted asmr #dominimoonbeam #fanfic #meet cute reimagined #in the wild #cute as hell!#that's right I wrote something sweet!#<3

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