#i think that'd be tight as hell for him

[livelaughlovesubs]

Nini I want to fuck a demon boy so bad I can't. I'm so sleep deprived and this is the only thing on my mind. The idea of this powerful demon who's not used to being challenged, just ending up ass up face down on the floor, bed WHEREVER. It's not important. Ending up like that is just peak. Also I like to think they'd have sensitive tails. So. Like. I totally.

Wanna make them fuck themselves with their own tail. I think that'd be great. I think it would be awesome.

I want them to get so flustered at the idea of doing it, but do it anyway just coz I told them to. I can almost imagine them finding their own prostate with their tail, and really they can't decide which sensation to focus on. Feeling themselves clench around their own tail, or the way the slightly pointed end slams into their prostate. And bonus points if they cum and you overstim them by grabbing their tail and fucking them so much harder than they could themselves. Hooray, now they've got

your hand around their already much too sensitive tail

said sensitive tail is being slammed into their ass

it's gotta feel so good, they'd probably be so tight around themselves

your hand is gonna slip a few times, which is gonna end up in stroking their tail, which has got to feel like heaven for them

not to forget that you're thrusting their tails directly onto their prostate without letting them breathe

I just. I don't know. I think they'd look so pretty, flushed and begging to stop, even though it's them that keeps weakly trying to thrust their tail back into themselves. Also, they'd look so pathetic, sobbing from the overstimulation. I'm a sucker for tears trailing down their faces, eyes red and a little puffy. It'd almost make you wanna be nice to them. Almost.

But yknow, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. And sometimes what a girl's gotta do is fuck a demon stupid with their own tail. (I don't have the same way with words as some people, but like do you see the vision)

~a sleep deprived,🧁anon

You are so smart holy shit. You don’t give yourself enough credit. Fucking a demon with their own tail? Why didn’t I think of something as great as this??! Lemme write down my thoughts for a sec- (btw I thought you are like, very religious?)

Dom!reader x sub!character

You had a long day behind you, and there was nothing sweeter than the thought of finally getting some sleep. All you wanted was to have a good rest, but to your demise you woke up in the middle of the night with something heavy on top of you. “Ops, I didn’t mean to wake you up. Oh well this will do too.” What the hell? It was a fucking person?? First thing you did was push him off of you and turning on the lights, then you thought this was some kind of weird joke. He had two horns growing out of his forehead, as well as a super long tail with a heart shaped tip. Not to mention the pink, glowing tattoo on his pelvis. When he opened his mouth again, you thought you didn’t hear right. “I’m an incubus, pleasant to meet you~ now let me feast on you, pretty please?”

An incubus, so, in other words a demon. What in the- never mind. He said he wanted to feast on you? Heck no, he woke you up in the middle of the night and is expecting you to have the energy to fuck him? As soon as he got up to try make a move on you, you flipped him over and tangled your hand in his hair, then pressed his face into your pillow. “If you are that desperate do it yourself.” Of course that little slut was into that.

He reached for his dick, but you slapped his hand away and instead grabbed his tail. “MhMngh- aaAAHhnn~!” A surprised yet blissful moan escaped him, face all red as lust fills their already sinful body. Anticipation swelling inside them at the thought of what you might do with them. That’s when they felt their own tail poking against their butt… wait wha? In the mean time you stroked it gently while whispering, “I want to watch you fuck yourself, who knows, I might reward you afterwards.” Suddenly all their previous confidence vanished as embarrassment took over. With their own tail..?? How did you even get that idea! Not even something as perverted as them had such outrageous ideas..!

In the end they could only obey without protesting, trusting their already super sensitive tail into their tight, wet hole. Each time they accidentally hit their prostate, they’d yelp and whimpers. Pretty tears are already rolling down their even prettier faces. Eyes half lidded as they whine, “mhm! Ah-ahhHh.. nghHnn~!!” All while their poor, useless dick is twitching around on its own, making a mess everywhere <3

Gojo, Sukuna, Dazai, Fyodor, Nikolai, jouno, Scaramouch, Kaeya, lyney, Ayato, Aventurine, Sampo, Jing Yuan (?), Douma - your favourites

#sub character #sub!character #dom reader #dom!reader #sub bsd #sub bungou stray dogs #sub jjk #sub jujutsu kaisen #sub demon slayer #sub kny #sub genshin impact #sub genshin #sub hsr #sub honkai star rail #sub gojo smut #sub gojo satoru #sub gojo #sub dazai osamu #sub douma #sub dazai #sub aventurine #sub fyodor #sub ayato #sub lyney #sub kaeya #sub Sampo #sub sukuna #sub jing yuan #sub scaramouche #sub wanderer

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

hi, just wanted to say your writing is amazing and I would like to request a fic. If your not too busy and like this request can you please write a Luke x daughter of Poseidon. Maybe they have known each other for awhile and his betrayal really crushes her. Thank you. Also can I be 🐬 emoji. ❤️

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Smooth Seas Don't Make Strong Sailors

content: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon! reader fic warning: angst, legit no redeeming fluff sorry yall author's note: the title got me foaming at the mouth- something about a good title just gets me all hot and bothered- jk jk also like...luke is tricky for me. bc i cannot for the life of me decide if he's a soft boy who's just been hurt too many times, or if he's a cocky son of a bitch who's just sometimes nice???? like, who are you sir????? i dunno, makes it kinda hard to write for him bc i don't have a good gauge for him but im tryin!!

you were the first person to welcome luke to camp, helping him to drag annabeth and grover into camp. watching as thalia gave her life for them. helping him fall more gently into the grass. ultimately dragging all three of them to the big house. that'd all been you, at the time, an unclaimed child. a few years later, after saving a kid from drowning, you'd been claimed by your father. and you were pretty content with life! you had luke and annabeth and grover, and you loved to train. so what if the cabin get's lonely sometimes? luke was more than happy to sneak in way after curfew and help you sleep.

you and luke never real discussed it, one day you and luke just became you and luke. daughter of the sea with the son of thieves. and you guys had good fun, always playful and light hearted. you'd help organize the hermes cabin when it got a little too full and help greet new campers, kneeling to meet them and doing cool water tricks to distract them for their world view crumbling around them.

and then percy showed you. you felt so bad for the poor boy, losing his mother in such a brutal way. you found yourself drawn to the boy, unable to ignore the way his nose kinda looked like yours and his curls fell in a similar pattern to yours. but you shook it off, knowing annabeth would mock you for being so stupid. you were more than happy to help percy feel welcomed to camp, gentle hands on his back and funny jokes falling from your lips. percy liked you, clinging to your side like a koala. and then he was also claimed by poseidon. he stood in that river, eyes stuck on the spinning green trident above his head. and you pushed your way through the other demigods, your chest heaving as you saw this little boy before you. and he had no idea. he had no idea that that stupid trident was a curse, a dooming of fate and the sealing of a life of heartbreak before him. you refused to let him know that, let the boy live in bliss for at least a few moments, tugging him into your arms and giving him a hug so tight and comforting he was able to disillusion himself into thinking this was his mother.

percy then got a quest and you could just see the gods tightening their hold around his throat, never to let him be a boy again. you went running to luke, grasping at his arm and begging him to give something - anything - to percy to help him on this quest. you'd just gotten him and you were determined to keep him around. luke soothed you in the way only he could, promising to find something for the young son of poseidon.

and find something he did. a pair of his father's shoes, feathers and all. and you'd be oh so grateful in the moment. you thanked that damn boy with kisses and cuddles, smiling softly as you thought your brother was in safe hands. oh, how wrong you were.

those damn shoes. that was your breaking point, hiding in the woods with annabeth and watching luke and percy. the moment he mentioned that the shoes, intended to drag the wearer to the deepest darkest hell, weren't meant for grover but rather the boy you'd told him to protect. you trusted him to ensure the safety of those you loved and luke castellan was breaking your heart.

"you promised to keep him safe," you whispered, tears building in your eyes as you step out from behind a tree. but you were mad, too. luke could see it in the grip you held on your sword.

"no...no, no, y/n, wait, you don't understand! i-"

"i understand enough, luke. you said you would keep him safe!" you argued, stepping forwards and you could feel your heart squeezing inside your chest.

"we can do better than keep him safe! the gods, they won't stop. the prophecy-"

"shut up! you will not talk about things you do not know fully! luke, i know they hurt you and i know you just want to get even but this...this isn't the way to do it," you begged and luke nearly broke. he nearly told kronos to leave him alone. he nearly let the gods make him their playtoy again. he nearly called it all off, just because you asked him nicely. but...it was too late.

"come with me. we can show them what fear tastes like. don't...don't make me do it without you, y/n. please. if i have to fight you on this...well..." luke muttered back, holding his free hand out to you. you stared at it, unable to move. here was the boy you loved presenting you with a delimma; go with him and love him but destroy the one thing you loved for or stay true to the gods and break your own heart.

"y/n, you can't," percy whispered, reaching to grasp you arm but luke raised his sword at the boy.

"let her make her own decision-"

luke's words got cut off by the swiping of your sword. you cut the palm of his outstretched hand before knocking his sword back from percy. you were crying but also seething with a rage that luke could see bubbling behind your eyes. he looked down at the nasty cut on his hand before glaring back up at you. or what he believed to be you. it was a little hard to tell with the tears blurring his vision.

"i'm sorry. i love you...but i guess not enough," you told luke and following your sentence, you could hear the shattering of two hearts.

"don't cross my path again, y/n, because next time i won't be so kind. i may love you but...i don't think it's enough," luke bit out and the two of you stood there, swords at the ready and your love fizzling out in real time. then luke left, cutting himself a escape and running. bitterly, you though him a coward as you fell to the ground. you were inconsolable, your arms wrapped around yourself as you cried and cried. percy fell with you, words tumbling from his lips and his arms wrapped around you best he could. and all you could hear in your head was a voice, one that was attempting to be comforting but also get you back on your feet, over and over again, as repetitive as the tide and just as destructive to your sandcastle mind.

smooth seas don't make strong sailors smooth seas don't make strong sailors smooth seas don't make strong sailors

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #pjo fandom #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians

[eris-snow]

𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞.

Tags: bakugou x gn!reader, fluff

Imagine getting saved by bakugou. That'd be hot af.

"So you're Explosive Dynamight's little partner," The villain sneers as he watches you squirm in your binds. "You're tied up nice and tight, so don't bother trying to escape, precious."

Being Bakugou's partner is a health hazard in more ways than one. He controls your every emotion and action, just like how he's at the sweet mercy of your smiles and mood.

He runs your mind, every thought consumed by him in your free time because, why wouldn't it be? He's your perfect boyfriend that was one of the top heroes in Japan. He's your perfect boyfriend that still makes time for you even on late nights because he's just the best like he claims to be.

But being Bakugou's partner is a health hazard because sometimes, you'd end up in situations like, well, this.

"It's time to take Number 2 down a couple of pegs," The villain growled, tracing a hand on your cheek. You're quivering, but you keep your mouth ironed shut.

Bakugou will come.

He always does.

"Who knew he was hiding you this entire time. His greatest weakness...ha, he was a fool for revealing it to the public." You yank your head out of his grasp, biting your lip. Any second now...

"Oi!" A harsh slap lands on your face, making your eyes widen in shock as you whimper at the impact. "Answer me!"

Ignoring the sting in your cheek, you glare daggers at the villain who'd decided to apprehend you. "You think you're tough stuff?" You scoff. "You and your little gang over here are small fries compared to everything he's been through. You don't stand a chance."

Said gang shifted nervously at your confidence. Sure, they caught you, but it wasn't like they were the first ones to do this since Bakugou revealed his relationship with you.

The villain snarled, looming over you "You little-"

An explosion fires of nearby, cutting his sentence off. Normally, it's a sound that scares people off, but it has long become a sound of comfort for you.

You smirk at them, sticking your tongue out at the villain just before his eyes widen.

Dynamight had arrived.

"HANDS OFF MY GIRL, FUCKER!" The blond hollers, whipping his hands in front of his face to shoot concentrated detonations at all their faces. He lands in front of you, facing down the gang leader who was howling in pain at the explosion.

Small fry.

From behind, you were blessed with the beautiful image of the blond's muscles flexing, skin shining with sweat.

Your boyfriend had muscles sculpted like a Greek demigod, just the right amount to look strong but not buff, and you loved it.

"You have some nerve, I'll give you that," He jeers, lowering his stance. "Fortunately, that's the only thing you have."

Before the villain could say anything, Katsuki blasts up close and personal to his face, before promptly detonating so many miniature attacks on the villain with grace akin to a dancer. He finishes his work with one final blow, causing the villain to collapse, groaning as he sinks into unconsciousness.

"Baby," He says softly, fondly as he rushes over to you untying your bonds quickly as soon as the police arrive on the scene to arrest the low-grade villains. The rope that dug into your skin makes you wince when you're finally free, making Bakugou hold you close.

"Hell, are you okay? Let me see you-" He stills, eyes flashing when he noticed your swollen face.

Oh no.

"Katsuki, come back here-"

"No."

"I'm fine, seriously! You've already knocked him unconscious!" You protest, clinging to your boyfriend's arm.

"I didn't hit the fucker hard enough!"

You giggle, leaning up and planting a sweet kiss on his cheek.

"My hero," you coo, the fear seeping away for the crashing waves of love to wash your grateful heart.

"My world," He grins, planting a bold, firm kiss on your lips.

Being Bakugou's partner is a health hazard, but the benefits that come back are repaid tenfold as you're reminded of how no matter where you are, Bakugou would come save you.

Anywhere, anytime.

#mha #mha fanfiction #katsuki bakugō #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x you #my hero academia #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katuski x reader #fluff #bakugou fluff

[bruciemilf]

I AM READY FOR THE CONVERSATION

TELL ME ABOUT STEP-SIBLINGS KON AND JASON

When I think about Kon and Jason step-siblings drama I think about their two core elements: They're a walking legacy and a walking contradiction of that legacy.

There's an undeniable magnetism between the Superfamily and Batfamily. For some it's Clark and Bruce, for others it's Dami and Jon, but -- these two.

Man.

These two would understand eachother. That's why they're so nsufferable to the other. Firstly, Clark and Kon aren't bound by the same ethical reservations. He understands, on a ground level, why Jason does what he does.

He doesn't dislike Jason because he's a violent vigilante, he dislikes him cause he's a nerd.

He has a tight opinion on education and a strict policy on no littering and he has a curfew.All things that'd make Kon Kent see the other as uncool.

And, in Kon's eyes, Jason has he coolest dad on the planet and just. Doesn't do anything with that. While Jason is the exact opposite.

Kon said there's no need to teach classic literature in schools because it's pretentious as hell (and just to be annoying, says they promote rich people. Doesn't say why, just that it does) and Jason hated his guts ever since.

Not to mention, you don't need X ray vision to see Jason's a complete daddy's boy. Kon asks Bruce to move in and Bruce is like of COURSE you can! Dick's never seen Jason so murderous before.

It becomes a streamline. Kon does everything to steal Bruce's attention, -- attention Jason oh so badly claims not to want.

" Move."

" What do you mean, Red? This is my spot," Kon says, snug and comfy besides Bruce on movie night. He couldn't move if he wanted to, in his defense. Damian chose his lap to nap on.

"Kent, I swear on your God and mine, --"

" Oh, what are you gonna do? Poetry slam me to death? Bore me to suicide? Write me a bad goodreads score?"

"First of all, ET, you wouldn't understand slam poetry with all the brain power of three hazelnuts and a blonde wig. Second of all, --"

" Boys," Bruce sighs, " Don't fight. Clark?"

Clark shrugs, " Kon ate your pudding cup, too. I feel like that's very relevant."

" You WHAT?!"

" Clark!"

" It's how Kryptonians bond." It's not. Clark likes drama.

#jason todd #clark kent #conner kent #kon kent #bruce wayne #batfam #batfamily #dc universe #text #text post

[more-cardigan-than-woman]

They were Roommates! 3/?

Summary: We get some perspective. Jason's had a long day and all he needs is his princess to help him relax.

Pairs: Roommate!Reader x Jason Todd

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: SMUT, FEELINGS, POV SWITCH, chocking, cock warming, praise, pining, dark humor, fluff. reader gets a job, I have no excuses but this kind of hurt to write.

AN: This Chapter is from Jason's POV. I just feel like we needed some insight. Also just wanted to repost this because apparently it didn't upload properly yesterday. Hopefully this time it works.

Part 2

What a long fuckin day, Jason thinks to himself as he trudges up the stairs to your shared apartment. He's been out all night and day chasing down leads for Batman and hasn't felt this bone tired since he crawled out of the pit.

His duffle bag like a sack of bricks on his shoulder and his feet doused in concrete. But his goal is ahead of him. He knows your home right now, you told him this morning when he called to ask about your upcoming Art Show that you had pieces to get ready and you’d be locked inside all day.

The idea of you waiting for him pushes him further, faster. Just a few more steps and he'll be home. Not that he thought of you as home.  No, that'd be too much. You're friends, just friends, who haven't been able to keep your hands to yourself for longer than 2 days for the last few weeks. So maybe you’re just very good friends.

He pushes through the door, only a little grateful that Bruce made him leave his guns at the manor for Alfred to clean. Apparently, he wasn’t doing it properly. Though he’s about 90% certain he’s never going to see his favourite firearms again.

He makes a beeline for your room upon noticing you left the door open. Are you waiting for him? You wouldn’t be, right? His ears perk up at the sound of your soft humming, making his heart pound and his hands sweat. Fuck, he just needs to get his hands on you.

“Hey Jay,” you say in that velvety tone, when you see him approaching down the hall. Pulling your headphones off and smiling your cute little face at him. He can hear Taylor Swift's newest song echoing from them, but he barely even registers it. He’s so focused on you.

Fuck, you’re a wonderful sight. Your tablet resting on your crossed legs, your stylus slotted delicately between those delicate fingers, hair up in messy bun, tiny fly away's framing your beautiful face, knee high socks that nearly give him a heart attack and his fucking red flannel. Fuck, if he had your skills he’d sit down and capture how perfect you are.

His eyes take all of this in as his heart tries his best to tell him something. But he can't stop moving. His body goes limp as he flop’s down onto you, resting his head on your silky thigh. All he wants is to sink his teeth into your flesh, mark you, cover your pretty skin in signs that you're his. 

Instead, his hands dig into the shirt that’s fanned out over your legs. His shirt, if only the woman in it were his too. He thinks, grateful he’s managing to keep these confusing thoughts inside, “Princess,” he mumbles into your leg. 

“Long day at the office?” Your hands start to brush through his hair, combing the knots out that had formed throughout his search. Your nails graze along his scalp, he shivers as goosebumps spread down his neck and onto his arms. He may not remember hell, but this sure feels like heaven.

“Mmm,” he kicks off his boots, the steel caps thumping when they hit the ground. His bones start to feel gooey as he presses his face deeper into your thigh. He doesn’t mean to kiss you, but he just can’t seem to help himself.

“Bruce have you digging holes in the garden again?” your voice like wind chimes on a still day. Fuck, he could listen to you talk forever about whatever you wanted.

“He does love his family bonding exercises,” his hands drift up, wrapping around your hips, hugging you tight and hiding his face, unable to look at you. He hates the lies, hates that he can't tell you. But Dicks right, it's too dangerous for a civilian. He couldn't forgive himself if anything happened to you and if he was the one who put you in danger….

“Want me to get you anything?” 

“Just this for now.” He snuggles up into your tummy.

You lean down, placing soft kisses into his hair. He’s thankful you can’t see his face, sure that it would give away just how right you feel..

“You rest Jay, I got you.” you lay back, your hand still in his hair as you begin humming the song you had been listening to before.

“Hmm.. thanks Princess.”

You only get to the chorus before Jason’s phone starts to ring, “back pocket,” he grumbles, rubbing his cheek into you, “can you get it for me?”

“Ah huh,” your hand reaches into his pocket, “it says mother dearest?” you sound so confused but he can’t help the laugh that escapes him, “Jay I thought-”

“Jesus, can't I rest? answer and tell him to fuck off please.” you let out a tiny sound that sounds like you agree and then the bloody hollering starts.

“Little Wing, I need-”

“Umm hello?” you interrupt.

“- oh you're not Jason. Hey girlie,”

“Jason, why is Dick in your phone as mother dearest?” you whisper, scrunching your brows up at him when he looks up at you.

His eyes start to grow heavy, rubbing his cheek into your tummy. Fuck, Jason does not want to talk to his brother right now. He inhales your perfume mixed with the lingering scent of his cologne. It makes his pants grow tighter and his brain feel foggy, “tell him I'm busy and to annoy someone else,”

“Jason can't come to the phone right now, he's dead.” you joke and he can hear the fucking panic starting to form in Dick’s head.

“He's what?!” He hears Dick shout through the phone. His brother starts to ramble and Jason can imagine the man pacing through his house, his arms flailing around him like he’s going to kill someone. Jason can't help the laugh that escapes him.

“Dick doesn't get the joke Princess. Put it on loudspeaker.” he whispers to you, turning his head so his brother will hear him, “I'm not dead, calm down.”

“Don't you tell me to calm down! She shouldn't make jokes like that, because- wait, am I a loud speaker?”

“Yes,” you both say at the same time.

“I just wanted to make sure you got home ok, and now I'm having a heart attack. Fuck you both very much.” He hangs up and you both burst into laughter.

“Your brother's a bit of a drama queen.” his head jostles on your giggling stomach, “Like did he think I’d be so casual if you were actually dead?”

"You don't know the half of it," Jason says, taking the phone from you and throwing it away.

"We just doing this all night or?" 

"What you have in mind?"

"Haven't had a girls night in ages and you look like you could use some pampering." You suggest as your fingers work their way back through his hair.

XxX

He must've fallen asleep. His first clue is that you're gone and he's wrapped up in your cotton blanket, the second is he can smell the snicker doodles in the kitchen. The rich cinnamon sugar scent, almost as sweet as you.

Ducking into his room he takes off his dirty clothes and throws on a pair of clean sweats before floating towards the kitchen like a cartoon. "Princess?" He calls when he can't see you.

"I'm over here," you call back. He spots you bending over the coffee table, arranging your pamper station for him. Fuck I love you. He thinks, in a friend way. Yeah. She's my friend. But the way his shirt rises up over your ass makes him want to do some very unfriendly things to you. "Can you grab the cookies from the oven?"

"Yep," he says, with a pop of his lips, spinning on his feet towards the kitchen. 

"Thanks ba- I mean thanks Jay," you turn trying to hide your embarrassment, but he can see it. You wanted to call him babe. Maybe this isn't as one sided as he thought?

"What are we doing first?" He tries to say casually, sitting down on the couch and taking in the vast array of items you've got set out.

"Facials," you smile, picking up the little bowl of cream, "want me to put it on you?"

"Yes please," he sits back, almost moaning at how soft your fingers feel on his face, "what's in this it smells yummy,"

"Honey, lavender, oats, all the good stuff," 

"It smells great and it feels so good," he presses his face into your hands. "Princess, i-"

"Finished, you look so cute!" You say excitedly, "ok, now you do me,"

"Do you?" He raises his brow at you.

"Jay," you playfully hit him, "I want a facial too." He can't help the face he makes and you slap him again, "come on, get ya mind out the gutter."

"I'm just teasing," he swipes a handful of the cream, rubbing it into your soft features. His fingers press into the crease into your brow, your cheeks. You grin up at him and his heart feels like it might burst. Holding your chin he presses a soft kiss into your lips, "tastes good too," he beams, when you open your eyes you peer back at him so sweetly his heart thumps even faster. "What now Princess?"

"We just need to wait ten minutes then we can wash it off," you say getting up and grabbing the cookies, from the table "we can eat these while we wait."

"Princess these are delicious," he moans as the spongey cookie melts in his mouth, "tastes almost as good as you."

"Jay." You level your deadpan stare at him.

"Princess." He stares back.

"Can I do your makeup after?" You perk up, sitting on your knees.

"Can we watch Heathers in bed?"

"Deal."

"How many of these am I aloud to eat?" He asks, stuffing another one in his mouth. Fuck if he only had to eat two things for the rest of his life. He knows exactly what he would pick.

"All of them? I can just make more if you want." 

"Just for me?" He's surprised, he's not sure why. In the year you've lived here he's always surprised by just how much the little things you do for him chip away at his walls.

"Who else?" Your words circle his heart, the tips of the letters just grazing the outside.

"Princess, can I wash this off? It's starting to itch,"  he says, the honey sticking to his fingers and the lavender that smells exactly like you wafting up his nose. He's having trouble keeping his thoughts pure and not just bending you over the couch and making you beg for him.

"Yeh, I'll get the movie ready and move the snacks," 

"Fuck, what the fuck am I doing?" He says to himself in the bathroom mirror, his face still smelling like you, "just ask her out to dinner," he washes the rest off, but the scent still lingers. "What would Bruce do? Deny his feelings for ten years and wait for her to make the move. I can't fuckin do that." He wipes his hand down his face in frustration. 

Shit, he feels like he's stuck between a crowbar and an explosion. But if he fucks up this time, you could be the one to get hurt and that's the last thing he wants.

"You're taking a while in there, are you alive?" You knock on the closed door, "you talking to Batman in the mirror again?"

"I do not do that," he says as he brushes past you and into your room where you've got the cookies resting on the edge of your bed.

"You kinda do," you call out.

Fuck me, she's going to kill me. Again. He thinks, holding his face in his hands as he reaches for another cookie and savors the taste.

"Alright, Jay," you say, swishing into the room, his shirt sitting just low enough to cover your panties. Your hands drift up his bare arms, stopping at his shoulders as you step toward him, your legs spreading over his and your ass lands on his thighs. "Ready for your makeover?"

"Is this how I get it?" His arms encircle you, "Can I get one every morning?" He squeezes your ass and you jump, making his cock throb underneath you. His fingers dig into your sides making you squirm and the cutest little sounds escape your mouth. Is this your version of torture? It’s definitely preferable to other methods he’s endured, he thinks, he could get used to this kind of treatment. 

"Jay, stop," you laugh, "you're tickling me, Jay, please," squirming even more on his lap, his cock growing harder and harder by the second, "Jason, babe, stop, let me do your makeup."  

His eyes meet with yours and he stops tickling you. Did you just? No. It must’ve been a slip of the tongue. 

"Make up time," you try to smile, your eyes looking everywhere but at him, what is that about? Is he reading too much into this? "Maybe a smokey eye? What colors would you like?" 

"Red and black, please Princess." You reach back for your eye shadow pallet and he tries to think of something else. Anything else, Dick farting on Tim, Damien getting eaten by his dog. But with that lavender still on his skin and you on his lap, all he can think about is kissing you again.

You press your fingers into his face, your dominant hand holding the brush like it was made there as you lean over him. Brushing the color onto his closed eyes, your cinnamon breath fans over his face warms his heart. Your tits pressing into his hard chest have a similar effect further south.

"Jay, stop squirming," you say as you continue to wiggle on top of him. "I'm going to poke your eye out," Like he can help it. Like he can help just how much to affect him.

"I'm trying, are you nearly done?"

"True art takes time,"

"I don't know how much I got left,"

"Why's that?"

"Princess if you don't hurry up I might break your pretty brush," his hands grip your hips, hoping to keep you still. Instead it gives him more leverage to rub up into you, grinding his very hard and seeping cock into your delicate panties. 

"I'm nearly done, just one more thing." He feels you reach back, his eyes still closed. Then the softness of your kiss overwhelms him and he can't hold it back any longer. 

He flips you underneath him. You let out an adorable squeal of excitement as his cock grinds on the wet patch in your panties. "Fuck" it feels like someone finally cracked a hole in the horny pond. he tries to stop but can't, “I need to be inside you,” 

"Like right now?" You say, grinding up into him and shoving your panties down your legs as fast as you can. "But I haven't finished your makeup" Fuck, you're always so ready for him. Maybe you can finish his make up? He thinks slyly, hmm this could be fun.

“Right now Princess,” his hand fumbles as his blood thrums. He dips his fingers into your heavenly pussy and you’re already clenching down on him, "fuckin hell. You're already so wet. I got an idea," he moves back, laughing when you let out a huff as his fingers leave you. He rests his back on the wall behind your bed, "come here,"

'Ok?" You ask, seemingly confused about what he's doing. But when you see him shake his pants off and throw them on the floor, your mouth falls open and you start staring at him again. Fuck, it makes him feel like a God. 

You fall onto your tummy crawling towards him, like sin personified, like you need him as much as he needs you. He glimpses those pretty tits through the large gap in the front of his shirt, "What are we doing?"

"Since you insist on doing my makeup,” he tuts, “you're going to sit on my cock while you finish it. Don't look at me like that. Come on now,"

"I'm definitely going to poke your eye out," you side eye him as you raise to your knees.

"You won't. I trust you," he says, taking your hips in his hands, sighing when your warm fingers wrap around his cock. 

"Good girl, now sit," he takes deep breaths as your tight little pussy envelops him, your creaminess sliding down the hard ridges of his cock, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. 

"Ok," you pant, squirming around him with your eyes closed, "I've just gotta-" you pick up your pallet, swiping some black over your finger and pressing it into his eyelid. 

“Please don't make that face,” he squints, knowing what you look like when you get focused, “I'm having a hard enough time,”

“This was your idea,” you sass, wiggling your ass and he feels like he might just let you poke his eyes out. 

He thrusts up, moaning when you bite down on your lip to try and keep your concentration. His hand moves, slipping over your hip to fall right at your clit. His thumb lazily swiping up and down making you spasm and pull your hand away.

“Jay,” you shudder, falling forward and into his chest, your hands holding his cheeks as you reach up to kiss him. Pride swells in his chest, knowing that he can have you like this whenever he wants. That you’re so open and trusting of him, ready to fall apart in his arms at any given moment.

“Makeup done?” He mumbles between kisses. His cock with a mind of its own as it starts to slowly thrust into you.

“It's,” you lean back, taking in your handy work, your delicate fingers brushing over his cheeks. You’re cheeks are flushed and your beautiful eyes take him in, “kinda smudey now, but it looks good.”

“Good,” he lifts his knees bringing you even closer to him, “now about this shirt,” his hands slip in between the buttons, ripping it in half. 

“Jay,” you gasp, and the shock on your face was worth it. Until you pout at him, “that was my favourite shirt,”

“I got heaps of flannels, you can have all of them Princess,” he peels the shirt from your arms, bowing his head so he can take your tit in his mouth, his strong tongue flicking over your nipple. Moving his other hand so his thumb can do the same to your clit, “still upset about the shirt?” He pant’s when you start to bounce on his cock.

“No, Jay I-” he knows what you're going to say, he can feel how tight you're getting around him. You just need a little push, his mouth sucks into your neck, tasting the last remnants of your face mask mixing with your sweat. You keep making those noises as bites into you, the fucking sweetest sounds on the earth, he wants to have his head clogged full of them.

“Cum,” his voice muffled as his teeth move to your nipple. You arch back, your hands grip tight to his legs, nails digging into his thick thighs,  Yes, mark me, he thinks, I'm yours Princess make me look like it, but his mouth says, “cum, cum on me, then you're going to do it again and again, cum Princess,”

His cock feels like it's in a vice as you shake and shiver over him, his name like a chant on your lips and your eyes tight with his. Your face is so beautiful as you fall apart on top of him, those tiny breathy moans echoing in his ears.

His hands slide around your waist, pulling you even closer, his lips connect with yours, “you did so well, wrap your legs around me," Your eyes lidded as you gaze back at him, "I got the next one,” he lifts you, sliding his legs underneath him to get more leverage. 

“Ready?”

“Yes Jay,” your voice is so lust filled, he wants to record it for when he's had a bad day. He thrusts up, your fingers winding through his hair, turning his head towards you. 

He'll never get used to how stunning you are, your eyes groggy and your lips swollen from his kiss, "fuck your beautiful," he kisses you deeply one hand on the back of your neck, the other gripping into your ass. "Keep those pretty eyes open for me," 

He's losing himself, losing any remaining semblance of sanity inside of you as he moves faster, harder "fuck I want to cum. Your little pussy feels so good Princess"

Your hands are drifting, seeming to want to touch every part of him before settling on his biceps. Your teeth bite down into his shoulder as he finds your g spot and it feels like fireworks shooting down his neck. "Fuck me back Princess," he slaps your ass making your pussy pulse around him.

“Again,” your voice getting breathier by the second, starting to grind down into him as he fucks you. He can feel your clit grazing his stomach, your tits brushing against the sensitive y shaped scar at the center of his torso. He's alive, alive for this. So he could make you cum on him everyday for forever . He slaps your ass over and over, feeling your pussy clutch and clench around him.

“Want to fill you, Princess,” His cock throbs inside you, your moans surrounding him like a symphony, “want to see that pretty pussy drip with my cum,”

“Jason,”

“Yes, cum. Cum, cum,” he moans in your ear, trying to hold back his own release, he wants to share it, to share everything. With you.

“JASON!” you scream, his name on your lips the richest sound in the world and as your pussy begins to convulse around him, he lets go. His cum filling you up, surrounding his cock and pumping into your pussy. He keeps going, fucking into you, letting you have as much of him as you need. He wants you spent, blissed out on his cock so that you never go searching for the feeling elsewhere.

His lips caress your neck as your shaking begins to slow, “did so well Princess, so perfect for me,” he praises you, lifting you up and laying you both on the bed.

Your head rest's on his chest as your little fingers trace the line of his scar. It feels strange, nice strange. Your fingers drift down the tail end of the why and he thinks maybe you're putting the butterflies inside him.

“You're fucking perfect,” your voice so fucking soft.

He smooths out the strands of your hair, not believing that you could ever truly think that of him. Not if you knew what he had done and all the lies he told you.

“How did my makeup hold up?” He asks, noticing the black smudges all over by your pretty face when you look up at him and wanting to change the subject, “I got it all over you,” he tries to wipe it clean.

“I think it looks better this way,” your soft hands brush his hair up, so gently. You're always so gentle with him. It makes his knees weak, “Hmm. You just need a jacket and a bit more black and you'll look just like how I imagine the Red Hood looks under that shiny helmet.”

“Oh really?” He knows you don't know, he's gone to very extreme lengths to ensure it. And asking you to dinner? What was he thinking, that's only going to make things more complicated. But he's not going to deny how it makes the pride swell in his chest, “Is that a look you like Princess?”

“Don't be jealous Jay. He's just mysterious and dark,” you shrug.

“I'm not jealous, beautiful, only a little intrigued.”

“Dressing up as him wouldn't hurt,” his smart girl, too smart. How is he going to keep this up? The closer, the deeper he falls the more likely you are to be in danger. He needs to tread very carefully. The last thing he wants is for you to get hurt.

Part 4

Taglist: (let me know if you want in bestie)

@princessbl0ss0m @letmebebatmanpls

#jason todd fanfic #reader x jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood x reader #red hood fanfic #reader x red hood #red hood #x reader

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

What about any fluff hc's you may have for Euronymous, Gabriel or Kappa it's your choice!

Love your writing! <3

Hello, anonnie! Thank you so much for your request 🖤🌸

I kinda more or less dragged my ass from the last pits of creative burnout hell for this but for the time being, I felt it <3

🌼Fluffy and soft gn!Reader x Kappa HCs, here we go! 🌼

Tagging the horde (gosh, I miss y'all!!):

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @lifelessvessel @doddernix @svgarcaine @amayalul @basementgrl222 @kristennero-wallacewellsver @iiheartsai @fan-goddess @shady-the-simp

🌼 Kappa would absolutely love to cook for you! Anything from a simple mashed taters with sausages to a full 5 course meal. Pretty much the best van life haute cuisine he could come up with, anything and everything to paint a big, wide smile on your face.

🌼 I just know for a fact that Kappa would be a slave to watching you hang up the laundry outside of the van. With your linen blouse ever so slightly riding up your stomach, showing off some soft tan lines from the plenty of days spent at the beach. He'd be so grateful for you doing the chores, plus absolutely enthralled at the sight of your body in the warm Californian sun.

🌼 Personally, I like to think that Kappa and you would take time out of every evening to listen to your favourite records. Whenever you pass a new town, each of you buys a new vinyl at the local record store to show to each other, to talk about to artist and to have a banter about the lyrics!

🌼 "I'm sorry to report that's immaterial, sugar!" Kappa would murmur to you, with his arms tightly wrapped around your waist after you uttered a something something about feeling insecure about your body. He'd simply sweet-talk your insecurities out of you.

🌼 Uhm...showering alone? Not on Kappa’s watch! 🤨 He'd be squeezing his bum into the bathroom right after you, insisting to lather you in soap just to wash it off with soft and tender hands a little later.

🌼 Immediately after that hot and soothing shower, he'd tuck you right into bed, brew you a nice, fresh cup of camomile tea to sip on whilst you flick through your current, rather addictive page-turner from the gas station the two of you passed about 160 miles ago. It might not be his jam at all, but as long as it has you smiling and cackling at the end of the day it's fine with him.

🌼 Speaking of sleep, Kappa would hold and cuddle you tight all night long. He'd make sure you fall asleep comfortably, granting that'd you wake up well rested for another day on the road to wherever I'd take you!

---

Not to toot my own horn, but if you like the vibe of this, you may enjoy my hippie!Kappa playlist 🖤🌸🖤🌸

#tam rambles #rory culkin #asks are appreciated #asks are always open #kappa #kappa x reader #kappa black mirror

[somebluemelodies]

It's on his way out he sees it. Sees them.

He looks around, but everyone is preoccupied still.

(Maybe it's for the best.)

Cellbit quickens his pace, climbing up the short hill towards the little white blur that'd disappeared behind the tree. He steels himself to fight something, hand resting against the hilt of the red dagger sheathed to his side as he rounds the corner and--

--comes face-to-face with a hatchling in a blue dress.

The investigator runs down his mental checklist. They're not any of the four kids he just saw, and they sure as hell aren't any of the ones that've been missing for weeks now. He's never seen this one before.

They're staring up at him, but he can barely tell with the way their white bangs nearly cover their eyes.

(His heart pangs at the familiar similarity. There's a flicker of anger.)

"Hello..?" The hatching waves to Cellbit as he crouches down in front of them after a moment. "Who are you?"

He only gets stared at in return, the kid's head tilting just slightly. They're not alive, he can tell that much; they have that same aura about them as the four running around somewhere behind him.

Just as he's about to ask another question, the hatchling lifts their hands. They start to mime actions. Writing in a book, flipping the pages.

Cellbit's brows furrow. What could that possibly--

Please know I was here. I was alive... This book gives me a chance to be remembered. Please don't forget me.

(Oh.

Oh.)

He sees the leather journal in his head. He sees the abandoned building, the abandoned cage, lost to dirt and dust and cobwebs. He knows.

He hasn't forgotten.

"It's you..."

The hatchling offers him a bittersweet smile, and part of him wants to break right then and there.

(Part of him does break.)

"You haven't been forgotten." His voice wavers against his own will. "You won't ever be, not if I can help it. I promise."

They only nod. I know.

Cellbit can only stare back at them as his vision begins to blur. Not a haze. Tears. Despite all the seething anger he's felt the last several days, he isn't even sure what's stronger right now: that or the pure despair.

(The pain.)

"I'm so sorry..."

Because this hatchling in front of him is one who should've had a chance. Who wanted one thing more than anything. A family. Love.

Who never got that chance. Who never got what they wanted.

But it wasn't their fault, like they thought. It would never be. There was only one thing, one group, to blame.

Emotional, they watch him for another few seconds. And then there's little arms wrapping around his torso, a tiny, trembling body against him. He holds on tight.

(The anger is coming back. Yet another reminder of what the Federation took from this island.)

"They're gonna pay. They're gonna fucking pay for letting this happen to you. They're all as good as fucking dead."

He pulls them up into his arms, letting theirs go around his neck. Hold on to the good moments.

He holds them tighter, still.

(They need this. They deserve this, after waiting God only knows how long.)

(Even if it's just once. He needs them to know.)

He'll make sure to remind the damn workers of them, whether they knew the hatchling or not. They're all a part of that hellscape organization, after all.

And he'll make sure they're the last thing those fuckers think about, too. Before they rot in hell.

"I'll avenge you. No matter what."

If I'm not going to have luck, I'm going to make their luck run out.

#is this coherent? idk #i just kinda word vomitted my apologies #but i really wanted to write something :'D #wouldn't it be silly if memories egg was alive after all #or they could even be brought back if they aren't alive (copium) #HE WOULD BE SUCH A GOOD DAD FOR THEM MAN #crying sobbing wailing in shambles #qsmp cellbit #qsmp memories egg #qsmp #blue writes qsmp

[strawberrymilk-sunshine]

The Jade Leech vore tease. I refuse to give this an actual name.

I'm sorry for what you're about to read.

Warning(s): vore tease, NOTHING BAD HAPPENS TO YOU but uh Jade sucks on you like a candy (sorry I just sorta wrote this on impulse. The idea entered my head and I started writing it with no second thoughts whoopsies)

"Oh dear..." Jade said to himself. "This was an... unexpected... turn of events."

"Jade, what the hell just happened-?" You asked, coughing.

"Well, (Y/N), I appear to have..." Jade looked nervous, uncharacteristically so. "...um... shrunken you, with the potion we were making."

"You... y-you what?!"

"I don't understand..." Jade said to himself. "I've never once messed up a potion this severely... our potion was meant to shrink an object and have no effect on living creatures, but... here you are, the size of a figurine!! Where did we go wrong, (Y/N)?!"

"How am I supposed to know?! I'm not from this world, Jade!" You yelled. "Also, Professor Crewel is going to kill us!"

"...we're going to fail." Jade said. "I can't let that happen...! I need to get you back to normal as fast as I possibly can, and fix this potion, and-" He suddenly got a certain look on his face. "Crewel's coming this way. I have to hide you."

Jade looked around everywhere in a panic, trying to find anywhere to hide you.

Then he lifted you up, and you know what he did?

Do you know what that moray eel man did to you?

He. Stuffed. You. Into. His. Mouth.

"Ah, my little water pup. I assume your object-shrinking potion is coming along well?" You heard Crewel ask. Jade nodded while (you assume) smiling politely. "...where is (Y/N)?"

"They... had to use the washroom." Jade responded, barely moving his lips.

"What are you doing, Leech?" Crewel asked.

"...I'm practicing ventriloquism in my spare time, Professor." Jade responded. "For fun."

"Alright. I suppose I can't question the hobbies of my pups. Feel free to continue practicing your ventriloquism, water pup. And let me know when that potion is completed."

The moment Crewel walked away, Jade spit you out into his hands.

"You tasted like chemicals." He told you with a disgusted face.

"Yeah, that'd be my lab coat..."

"You look... wet, (Y/N)." Jade told you. "Are you ok?"

"No, Jade, you just put me in your mouth to hide me from our Professor!" You said, wiping the spit from your safety goggles. "How are you going to fix this, Jade?"

"...well... all I need to do is hide you from Professor Crewel until I fix this, right...?" Jade asked, a wide, malicious, predatory grin on his face. "I think I know exactly where to hide you, (Y/N)~"

"What are you planning, Jade...?" You cautiously asked.

"You know full well what I'm planning. I am an apex predator, after all~"

"JADE DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE-!"

You know what he did?

Jade stuffed you right back in his mouth. Though more... violently than before.

You know, thank goodness you're wearing your labwear right now. Keeping the rest of your clothes dry... that's a bit of a positive.

He swished you around in there, rolling you from one side to another, making sure not a single part of your body remained unlicked.

And you know, aside from the taste of chemicals you had on your lab coat... you actually tasted really good.

This went on for quite a while. Jade continued... playing with you for five. Whole. Minutes. Do you understand how long that is when you're in a really tight moist and humid space? It's SO long...

Also, he just tilted his head back. Ok. Guess he's gonna eat you. Not exactly how you wanted to die, but, you know, c'est la vie.

...

Then, he tilted his head downward once more and let you fall out of his mouth and into his hands. He did do one last thing to you, though. He stuck the top half of your body back into his mouth and sorta... sucked on you like a hard candy for a few seconds before FINALLY giving you a break from all that.

"A growth potion is very easy to craft. I thought it would be fun to... mess with you while I was making it!" Jade smiled.

"...I'm pretty sure you swallowed my safety goggles." You told him, feeling your head.

"Oh. My mistake. Don't worry, (Y/N)! I'm sure we'll be able to craft a good lie for Professor Crewel." Jade assured you. "Preferably one that he believes."

"Whatever. Just give me the potion, alright?"

"It feels good to be normal sized again." You said, still very wet. "Uh... how're we gonna explain why I'm soaking wet?"

"...I don't know, (Y/N)." Jade admitted to you. "Let's try to correct our potion now!"

"You, uh... you don't have molars, huh?" You awkwardly asked.

"No, us morays have no need for them."

"Why not?"

Jade stared at you for a moment, before winking.

"Because us morays swallow our prey whole and alive~"

Oh.

Well that's always good.

Knowing that he does that, and could have done that to you and was going to do that to you... that's fun. That's good. That's cool.

...

Note to self... stay away from Jade Leech if you ever get shrunk again.

#i have no shame anymore #jade leech #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #jade x reader #jade leech x reader #jade #DO I TAG THIS AS VORE??? #i think no #idk

[zmediaoutlet]

Happy Wincest Wednesday! As today is my wedding anniversary, maybe a little low-key anniversary celebration for Sam and Dean?

Dean comes back to the motel room with six pack of beer -- standard -- and a bag of takeout chinese -- standard, and hopefully he actually ordered the ma po tofu even if he was making fun of it, because Sam's seriously been having a craving -- and a tiny, palm-sized teddy bear, which Sam only discovers when Dean says think fast and chucks it at his face, and Sam does catch it but barely, and then holds it in both hands, baffled. It's purple, soft, and wildly cheap. Probably made by the million in China, somewhere. "What the hell," he says.

"C'mon, baby," Dean says, sugary, which makes Sam look back up at him, horrified. "Can't a guy do something nice for his best girl?"

"Uh," Sam says, "no?", but luckily Dean's expression cracks and he grins more naturally. He cracks a beer and then a second, and leans his hip on the table next to Sam's laptop, and Sam looks back down at the bear, wondering if it's -- cursed, or something. Probably not but, then again, Dean calling him his best girl. Something cursed is happening here.

"Had 'em at the register at the Circle K," Dean says. "Along with those, you know, little roses in the crack pipes? Blast from the past. Think it's prom around here, soon, or something."

The bear's got little black bead eyes and a vinyl triangle patch of nose, which has been sewed on crooked. On one foot, Sam sees, there's a red silky heart, which Sam touches with a thumb, and then looks up at his brother.

"Know where we are?" Dean says.

"I would've said Earth, but--" Sam says, and holds up the bear, raising his eyebrows in a way that should get Dean to spill, but Dean's actually waiting for an answer, his mouth still tugged up soft at the corner. Sam drops his hand, holding the bear in his lap, thinking. "Uh, California. Off the 5, Bakersfield, the Pearl Motel--"

"Bakersfield," Dean says, and finally hands Sam his beer. "About... hell, fifteen years ago now. I think that's right."

Fifteen years ago? That was... when Dean was going to hell. Dean with a deal dragging him down, and the darkness roaring up. They did come to Bakersfield, Sam remembers, finally. A hunt, while he was trying to come up with anything that'd fix it, and Dean hadn't been happy exactly but he hadn't been lying anymore and that was something. Sam sets the teddy on his laptop -- it's badly balanced and tips over, ear bonking gently against the spacebar -- and Dean gets his boot between Sam's ankles, swivels the desk chair so Sam's really facing him. Not really smiling anymore but his eyes still soft. "This is where we were when I decided to believe you," Dean says. Sam sits up straight. "Even if you were nuts. I don't know. I just -- believed you. How you wanted to fix it and I thought maybe you could. I don't know if I ever said thank you for that."

"I was wrong," Sam says, a sorry acid curving through his gut, but Dean shakes his head, says, "All's well that ends well, Sammy," and that's a pretty lackadaisical way to dismiss being murdered by demons and destiny but Dean lifts a shoulder, glances around at the motel room where they're safe, alive, together.

"Bakersfield, huh," Sam says. He remembers more, now. A -- ghost, it was. And they burned the bones, and Sam almost got his arm torn off but didn't, and when they got back to that other motel all those years ago --

Dean's grinning at him, now. "Remember?" he says, and Sam does, in growing and delightful detail that somehow hasn't been blotted out by all the years between that night and this one, all the times Dean's spread his legs or Sam's gotten on his knees or the hurried grasping in tight dark corners or how sometimes Dean will look at him and Sam can't, physically, do any other thing but step close and get Dean's face between his palms and lean down, press his lips against where Dean's smiling, because he can't come up with any other way to say what it means -- what it has always meant, even when times bad or were awful or were just -- what they had to be, for them to both get to the next time that could be better.

"I didn't get you anything," Sam says.

Dean tips the teddy back over, so its little red-hearted foot is pointing Sam's way, and then reaches out to clink their beers together. "No big, Sammy," he says, and he's still grinning but his ears are turning that telltale red. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

#happy wincest wednesday #my writing #answers #wincest #jensen's soppy romance song came on spotify as i finished this #pretty appropriate #happy anniversary anon! #i think i might have time to do two more of these if anyone wants

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Halloween Lamden!!

CW for harassment.

"I still can't believe that's your idea of a costume." Jaskier said with a shake of his head as he downed yet another shot the bartender handed over to him, courtesy of some fan. It had been a really good set. He'd performed here a few times before and between the Halloween staples of songs such as 'Thriller' and 'Ghostbusters', the owner had been more than happy to let Jaskier perform some seasonal originals he'd been working on and they'd gone down a treat with the revellers.

"I'm wearing shades indoors. It counts." Lambert said, tapping the black frames and grabbing the next shot and downing it before Jaskier could even think to protest, trying not to wince at the overly sweet, fruity concoction. Apparently it was now more likely you were going to wake up after a night out with a cavity rather than a raging hangover.

"Just barely. Everyone else in here made an effort!"

"Too much of an effort in some cases." Lambert smirked moving his head to exaggeratedly look Jaskier up and down as the musician sat fanning himself with one hand, pausing briefly to flash the raven haired man the middle finger.

He'd gone for what he claimed was "Glam rock Dracula" and Lambert was loath to admit he'd made a pretty decent job of pulling it off. A black sequined peasant shirt which made Lambert feel itchy just looking at it, tight leather trousers with black rhinestones down the outside seams, paired with a black faux fur jacket that looked more like feathers from a distance and black platform heels. The look completed by dramatic black and red makeup and foundation pale enough to make his already fair skin look damn near ethereal underneath the club lights, his plastic fangs sitting on the bar next to him (turns out it was a total bitch trying to drink while wearing them).

Geralt and Yennefer had gone the classic Dracula and Bride of Dracula couples costume, with Yennefer meeting Jaskier's joke about people thinking he was their third with a "More like our Igor."

Which caused Jaskier to sulk and pout that "That isn't even the right fucking story, Yen." Lambert was pretty sure she'd gotten it wrong just to annoy the other man.

Eskel had put in an appearance as the wolf man. Complete with torn shirt, monster contacts and fake fur spirit gummed onto the back of his hands. He'd made his exit not long after Jaskier had finished his set, wanting to support his friend but not wanting to stick around. Halloween had never really been his favourite holiday but even less so since his accident. He found masks claustrophobic, prosthetics irritated the scar tissue and people constantly asking him about his "realistic make-up" got old fast. He was content to celebrate by binging on fun sized candy and watching B rated horror movies.

And Lambert? Lambert had thrown on a black muscle shirt along with his black jeans and boots and a pair of shades and just told anybody who asked that he was "His security." Whilst pointing at Jaskier (and ignoring Jaskier's grumblings about how saying he was his Familiar would be more in character whenever he was in earshot). Lambert had nothing against Halloween itself, it just pissed him off whenever he got dragged to anything where fancy dress was mandatory. It just seemed wasteful spending money on clothes and props that'd just get thrown into the back of the closet never to be seen again (at least, that's the excuse his mum had given - among others - whenever he'd asked why they never went to costume parties, or went trick or treating).

Jaskier had become enamoured with a sexy bumblebee who had sidled up to him during the lull in conversation and Geralt and Yennefer had disappeared about ten minutes ago to try and find some dark corner to do whatever the hell people tried to do when both parties were wearing fake fangs, leaving Lambert free to people watch. The DJ who had taken over was seemingly just replaying the classics Jaskier had already sung but at this point in the night people were either too drunk or too hyped to care. He hooked his shades into the neck of his shirt as his eyes wandered over various interpretations of cartoon characters and superheroes - some he recognised, most he didn't - and a handful of what he guessed to be meme references, interspersed with the traditional monster costumes.

He straightened up on his barstool when his eyes fell on one zombie costume in particular, or rather, the man wearing it. He looked pissed as hell and from the looks of it with good reason as he held another guy dressed as a poor man's Phantom of the Opera at arms length with a hand to his skinny chest, scowling as he yelled something while Phantom was looking at him with the kind of sleazy smile that made Lambert's skin crawl and he wasn't even the one it was aimed at. Zombie made to turn and walk away before Phantom grabbed at his hand and reeled him back. Lambert caught a brief flash of fear on Zombie's face before the anger returned as he turned to give a more forceful push this time, Phantom laughing like it was all a big game.

Fuck this.

Lambert's feet had carried him across the dancefloor before his brain had even fully registered what he was doing. He clapped a hand down heavily on Phantom's shoulder, causing both men to pause in their altercation and stare at him, "Let him go and piss off." Lambert growled into the man's ear.

He flashed Lambert what he obviously thought was a charming smile (and what Lambert thought made him look slightly constipated), "What? It's just a misunderstanding, it's all good."

"Not from where I'm standing. He doesn't want you touching him."

Zombie proved his point by using the lapse in concentration to yank his arm free, "That's exactly what I told him right after he groped my ass for the second time." He yelled in an accent Lambert couldn't quite place, sharp white teeth flashing from under black painted lips.

"C'mon man, you know how the game goes." He petitioned Lambert like they were old college buddies or something, "He's just playing hard to get."

Zombie looked about two seconds away from clawing this guys eyes out and Lambert was tempted to let him. Instead he threw him a warning look which, to his surprise, the other heeded. Didn't stop him from trying to kill the douche with the power of his stare though.

"Look pal, either you leave here on your own two feet, or I drag you by that three dollar cape and throw your ass out onto the kurb myself. Your choice."

"What the fuck? Who the fuck even are you man?"

Lambert smirked dangerously at him, "Security."

Phantom floundered for a few seconds before looking angrily back at Zombie, as if this were somehow his fault, "Whatever. Frigid bitch." And then to Lambert, "This place sucks anyway."

"Oh my god, thank you." He sighed, taking the empty stool next to the one Lambert reoccupied. Now that he wasn't distracted, Lambert saw that he was fairly dark skinned under the ashy makeup. His tight fitting jeans and shirt were artfully ripped and torn in a way that might be called stylish if they weren't covered in fake gore and mud, someone had covered his tightly curled hair in what looked like talc and something else to give the illusion of grave dirt, one of his eyes was clouded but Lambert was unsure whether that was part of the costume or genuine and he wasn't about to ask, "My knight in....black cotton, apparently."

"No problem. Would've happily punched him in the face if I knew it wouldn't escalate shit. You ok?"

Zombie laughed, "I was about three seconds away from doing that myself before you stepped in. You saved me from having to grovel to my brother after getting blacklisted by another club."

Lambert raised an eyebrow, there was a story there.

"Hey, what time does your shift end? I'd like to buy you a drink. Nothing weird." They quickly added, holding both hands up, "Just as a thanks."

"Oh, I don't work here." Lambert said, leaning on the bartop.

Zombie's brow scrunched in confusion, "But, you told that guy you're security. And the outfit-"

"Is the worst costume ever!" Jaskier exclaimed, leaning forwards on his own stool to peer around at whoever Lambert was talking to, "My Security is not a valid costume option."

Zombie tilted his head as he appraised Jaskier's outfit, "If you're supposed to be a vampire, wouldn't Familiar be more accurate anyway?"

Jaskier grinned so widely and smugly his fangs almost fell back onto the bar top, "Hah! Vindication! I like you..."

"Aiden."

"Aiden. I'm Jaskier and Mr. No - Imagination here is Lambert if he's not told you already. Now, what's this I heard about punching somebody?"

Jaskier's face grew darker as the other two filled him in and he had to be talked out of marching into the back to the main office to chew out the acting manager about their "fucking non existent security." before getting helpfully distracted by another sexy insect (a butterfly this time).

Lambert felt oddly touched at Aiden's concern over him getting into trouble for impersonating club staff - a worry that was put to bed by Lambert pointing out with a shrug and a bucketful of mock innocence that even if anybody found out; he'd just told the creep that he was security, he never said who's exactly. Not Lambert's fault if the guy just assumed he worked here. Aiden had laughed at that and bought Lambert another drink.

"I should get going." Aiden said, finishing the last of his drink (the third they'd shared), "I need to make sure I'm up early enough to get revenge on the siblings who abandoned me here. Although." He flashed Lambert a shy smile. Totally different from the wide, dimpled things he'd been sporting for the last couple of hours and one that for some reason made Lambert's stomach flip, "Perhaps I should be thanking them instead."

Lambert poured all of his concentration into not blushing while he downed his own drink to prevent his mouth from coming out with something stupid.

Aiden pulled something out of his wallet, scrawling on it with what Lambert thought might be the stub of an eyeliner pencil fished from his pocket, "Here." He held out a small rectangle Lambert recognised as a business card, "I'd really like to talk to you again when I'm not covered in three layers of face paint and fake blood. Call me?"

Lambert nodded, their fingers brushing as he took the card, "I'll text you my number. You ok getting home?"

Aiden's smile widened adorably as he nodded, "Different sibling lives two streets away and I have a key. I'll see you around." Aiden held a hand up in a final farewell before making his way to the exit and disappearing in the crowd of departing party goers.

Lambert gave a private smile as he absently flipped the card over and saw Aiden's little hand written "Happy Halloween, Knight." complete with a little doodle of a smiley ghost. He dug his phone out to text the number on the other side. Happy Halloween indeed.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #lambert/aiden #lambert x aiden #lambden #aiden x lambert #aiden/lambert #witcher aiden #witcher lambert #lambert

[baka-bakeneko]

Swaddle Serenade - River Ward x Fem! V Reader

tags: effects of childbirth, unresolved grief, happy ever after, unconditional love, postpartum

word count: 1.3k

synopsis: V and River are solid. The Ward family gains a new member.

a/n: first is here, second is here, we are reaching a finale of the Babe of Night City saga 😭

The warm slip of sleep was definitely calling your name, but this time heavier than before. You remembered when you flatlined for the first time in your life, not a fan of it, and felt your body become lead as your breathing slowed to something unrecognizable.

That feeling was slowly creeping in, coaxing your arms holding your son to relax because River was quick to swoop in and cradle him.

"V," River soothed against your temple, and though you tried to respond, your mouth felt to heavy to function.

"V," his voice gained more traction, sturdier in his throat as you felt him straighten up behind you.

His free arm curled around you stiffened, trying to sit you up though you were now deadweight.

"Valerie!" His voice was harder now, something that'd immediately made his son flinch and start to cry.

River looked over to Takemura and Viktor by the door. "Vik, fuckin, come help her! Joss!"

He called out for his sister as Viktor rushed to your side, taking your shoulders and laying you flat on the floor.

"What happened?" Joss ran back in, dropping the heater she went to find and kneeling to hold your cheeks. "River, what the hell happened?"

River shrugged, moving to sit up on his knees. He cradled Phoenix closer, trying to soothe his son from startling him. "I-I don't know, she was fine a second ago, she was smiling and now she won't wake up."

Vik leaned in and pressed his ear to your chest, hoping to hear a heartbeat. In the deepest depth of your body, you felt his skin against yours. The grease from his hair made it feel slick brushing along your skin.

"She's still here, her heart's really faint. I have some bounce back in here." Viktor began rifling through his bag, hoping to find the adrenaline he needed to revive you.

"V," River's voice cracked as it echoed through to you. You could imagine his eyes welling just like they had when you told him you were pregnant. "Come on, baby. Come back to us."

His hand went for yours, squeezed it tight before bringing it to his soft, warm lips.

"V," a voice deep within your subconscious broke through. "I hate to admit it, but that's a cute little bastard."

Johnny. Of course Johnny was always readily available at your absolute worst hour.

"He's right, chica," another voice, something so close to a distant memory piped in as well. "That's a cute little hombre you got there. Good genes."

If you had a voice, you'd chuckle. Jackie fucking Welles complimenting your child was something you'd never think of in a million years. How many steps you'd taken to get here now and just away from Jackie, it felt like a whole life since his death.

"Where's that bounce back, Vik?" River asked impatiently, leaning forward to press his ear to your chest.

You so readily wanted to fold your hand to the back of River's neck, hold him there like you used to before his heavy body squished your baby bump.

"I'm looking, I'm trying." Vik's scrambling through his medicine bag turned frantic. "Come on, kid, fight."

Takemura took a step up to the situation, baring down at you from the foot of your body. He patted at his suit pockets before finding what he was looking for.

"Move out of the way," he ordered to River, readying the bounce back needle and jamming it directly in the center of your chest.

"You take care of them, V. They need you." Jackie's voice echoed through you as the darkness began to float away. "Say hello to Mama and Misty for me."

"Give 'em hell, V. Don't get knocked down again. Be that fucking rockstar." Johnny quipped as you felt yourself snapping back into your body.

Suddenly, your eyes pried open as you inhaled a rattled wheeze.

"Call that fucking ambulance, Takemura." Joss ordered as you blinked and tried to regain your bearings.

You barely had a moment to figure out how you ended up on the floor before River's lips collided with yours, then trailed up the slope of your nose.

"Don't fucking do that again, Val. Shit," River said, exasperated breaths easing from his lips.

Your hand reached up to tease your fingers at the front of his shirt. "I don't plan on it," you croaked, hissing at the sudden pain clicking back into place.

You squinted an eye to see Phoenix, nuzzled in the crook of River's arm while he bent over you, trying to not shed more tears into your hair.

"Gave us a fucking fright, V." Joss said, patting softly at your cheeks before scooting away for River to help you up slowly.

"Yeah. Christ, V. Warn us next time you wanna do that," Vik added, massaging his own chest as if he were about to follow then folded his hand to his forehead. "I gotta call Misty."

You groaned, sitting up into River's hold before resting your forehead to his shoulder.

"Don't go back to sleep yet," River urged softly, his nerves obviously shot.

"Don't be so comfortable then," you retorted, working through the gravel now lodged in your chest.

The adrenaline stung deep into your tissue, making your whole chest burn along with your hips and ass. The pain definitely wouldn't let you sleep for some time.

-

River squeezed into the hospital bed next to you, hanging his leg over the edge to allow you more room. He curled his arm around your head, leaning in to stare at your sleeping son held in your grasp.

"He's got a full head a hair, V," River said, taking his index finger to trace Phoenix's wispy hairline.

You smiled, nodded softly, while your eyes began to sting with the threat of tears. It was shocking that you almost left him behind after just getting him.

You were stressed upon reaching the hospital, ready to hear the worst news of your life. It wasn't often you had such a long string of good luck, it was bound to run out at some time.

But it was just a condition of malnutrition, which River took personally since he cooked every single day. The doctor claimed it was a combination of malnutrition on your part and the trauma of childbirth.

Now though, you were just told to rest easy.

You opened your mouth to say something, but couldn't find the words to convey how you felt. You leaned into River, tilting your body into him.

He was your person after all. And he was still around.

"He looks so much like you, I just wanna eat him," you tried but it sounded so wrong leaving your lips, unsure how parents managed to express their love for their children.

Your eyes blurred with tears the more you stared at your son's soft face, his cherubic cheeks and long lashes that rested against his dark skin like his father's. "I miss him already."

"Aww, V," River soothed, nudging his nose to your temple before resting his lips in the same space. "It's okay, baby, he's here."

You sniffled, of course that was true. You were staring at your little fighter now, but you pulled a hand away to fold against still-round belly.

"I know," you whispered, moving your hand to rest against Phoenix's chest. "I just...held onto him for so long."

"And you have all his life to hold him still," River tried, his fingers combing your hair away from your face. "We're not going anywhere."

You shut your eyes and pulled Phoenix in close to rest between you and River. River looked down at his son then reached to caress his metal thumb under your eye.

You looked at him, your bottom lip ready to jut out but you bit it back. "Marry me."

River's brows raised at your words, his lips quirking into a smirk. "V..."

"I love you," you said, reaching your hand up to grab his. You intertwined your fingers between his. "I know it's kinda late since you're not getting any younger, but..."

River leaned over Phoenix and caught your lips to stop you from talking. "I was gonna say, that you took what I was trynna say. You're not getting rid of me."

----------------------------------------------------

nope, nope, no, no, no, no, no you didn't see it, i didn't see it. this didn't exist, happiness is futile. i was never here.

#river ward #river ward cyberpunk #river ward x v #cyberpunk #cyberpunk2077 #fan work #river ward romance #v cyberpunk #fanfic #bbs: baby bullshit #bakeneko

[nerves-nebula]

Before you read I want you to guess who gets to hit Splinter with their car.

Go on.

Guess.

——

Splinter was angry.

The boys all held onto each other, forming a chain as they followed their father. Leo was leading, of course, and his held held tight onto Raph’s as they made their way through the sewers.

Splinter was very angry.

Leo had been the first awake that morning. He quickly washed his face and came out to the kitchen to get the breakfast packs Raph had made the night before. They’d been preparing for this trek. They knew the risks.

He’d gone to Mikey first, knowing it would take him the longest to properly wake up. He helped him out of bed and shoved the breakfast salad in his hands, making sure he was actually eating before hurrying to continue his rounds.

Raph was just pulling himself out of bed when Leo came in. They shared a look, a mutual agreement, and Leo handed him his food.

Raph went to wake Donnie.

They all ate quickly.

They gathered up their travel packs and their weapons.

Mikey ran them all through breathing exercises, helping center them to make the transition as easy as possible.

Now they were walking.

Splinter was pissed.

They didn’t know the specifics of how this arrangement came to be, but clearly their father wasn’t happy about it.

A few months back Draxum had spent the night. During that stay, he’d suggested the boys all come to visit his home in the Hidden City. Splinter had been vehemently against it at first.

Then, in the morning, Draxum had kissed them all on the head and announced loudly that he would see them on a specific date for a day of “bonding!”

Splinter was furious.

They didn’t know why Splinter didn’t just outright refuse, but they knew better than to question him when he was clearly so irritated. His tail flicked back and forth aggressively as they marched through the sewers.

They arrived at a dead end and Splinter told them to look away.

When he finally allowed them to look back the brick wall had turned to a mystical doorway into the Hidden City. He hissed for them to follow and they did, stepping into the yokai world.

They were at a bus stop. Leo lead them to the bench, all of them sitting to wait patiently for whatever would happen next.

“I don’t like bringing you boys here.” Splinter told them, “It’s just as bad as New York. You will not leave Draxum’s home and you will not wander, understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” They all chimed.

“Where is that damned goat?” Splinter scowled, looking out to the road, stepping off the curb to get a better look, “If he is not here in-“

THUMP.

“Father!”

“Hey boys!”

The turtles all stared in stunned silence as Splinter scratched the hood of Draxum’s car, groaning in pain from the force of the vehicle slamming forcibly into him. Draxum looked out the window, frowning.

“What the hell are you doing standing in the street!?”

Splinter’s head popped up, rage in his eyes.

“Well.” Raph groaned, “There goes our chances of ever doing this again.”

——

Could this at all be canon in your story? IDFK. But it was a blast to write.

-Monster Anon

fsadjfsdf lmao it COULD be except i think draxum travels by portals and vines, so he wouldn't have a car. and also wouldn't kiss the boys on the head. maybe give them a firm pat. you did pretty well tho considering I have yet to even draw the boys interacting with draxum :')

ANYWAY my first guesses were either Mikey or Abe… i just thought that Mikey deserves it and if it was Abe that'd be surprising. abuser on abuser violence lmao. but once u mentioned draxum i was like,, draxum is hitting him FOR SURE

i've got a headcanon for your fanfiction tho! headcanon is this: Draxum convinced splinter with gay sex fajsidfmlsdkfagds

#nnstuff #ask #neglected fic #teenage mutant neglected turtles #baron draxum #tmnt splinter

[winters-dream]

cw: blood, running away, vampirism

Leaves crunched down with every stumbling step she took, her feet were bare and blistered, having discarded her damning shoes after only a few hours of running. Her dress was shredded around her ankles and her hair was a straggling mess around her shoulder, barely held up in the bun she’d worn. 

She looked somewhere left, finally finding something. A break in the trees. If she focused her eyes, she could have sworn she saw a field of some kind. Maybe a backyard. Yes. A backyard. To a house. Maybe she'd find a family that'd be nice enough to hide her. Yes. Finally. She shifted towards the clearing and began walking. She stumbled between trees, tripped over branches (sometimes her skirts). 

She’s been out here in the woods for days, running. Running away from her life as a princess. The king and queen, her parents, were trying to marry her off to a king almost thirty years older than her  and no amount of arguing would dissuade them. They only saw her as a pawn to strengthen their bonds with a neighboring kingdom. She was practically trained to be an obedient pretty face. She couldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t let her only purpose in life be shutting up and sitting pretty where her only contribution to the world was producing an heir. She couldn’t. So she ran away. Climbed out of her bedroom window and disappeared into the woods behind the castle.

She broke through the trees, a rush of relief washing over her. An abandoned castle in the middle of a large field. She wouldn’t find someone who could help her, but an empty castle was shelter. That was good enough for her. It had an eerie feel about it, but she couldn’t find herself to care about that. A place to sleep was a place to sleep. She trudged forward, her feet ached with every step she took. The cold steps were soothing under her feet as she pushed the door open. She stepped inside, finding the inside foyer to be surprisingly clean. 

“Hello?” she called out. No response. She let out a sigh of relief and walked towards the staircase on her left. Hopefully she’d find a bed to sleep on before she continued her escape. 

She didn’t make it two steps when a looming figure suddenly appeared before her. The figure was insanely tall with sickeningly pale skin and red glowing eyes. His lips were drawn back in an angered snarl, his sharp fangs more than visible. 

A vampire. Out of all the places she could have stumbled upon, she entered a vampire’s home. Her heart pounded as she turned around and bolted towards the door, knowing it was hopeless. The door snapped shut on its own and she was spun back around by the arm. The vampire pushed her against the door, his grip on her arms bruisingly tight. Anger was written all over his face, it was obvious he didn’t appreciate his home being invaded.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to trespass, I didn’t know—”

“Shut up,” said the vampire. Anger coming off him in waves. “Who the hell do you think you are, trespassing into a vampire’s territory? Are you trying to get yourself killed? I have half the mind to do just that, drain the blood from your pathetic little body.”

The princess shook her head frantically. “Please, please don’t, I didn’t know this was your home, I was—”

The vampire growled, his eyes boring into hers. This effectively shut the princess up, a small squeak escaping the back of her throat. The vampire kept glancing between her eyes and her racing pulse. He could smell the fear radiating off of her as well as the blood rushing under the surface of her skin. Her scent was intoxicating. 

He ducked his head down and ran his nose over her pulse. The princess tensed under his hold on her. So responsive. The vampire took in a deep breath, inhaling her beautiful scent. He almost moaned at how delicious she smelled, he could hardly wrap his head around how wonderful her blood must taste. No, killing her would be a waste. He’d need to keep her.

The sound of people shouting brought him out of his trance. He pulled his head away from the princess’s neck, eyes cast over to a window looking out to the field. There appeared to be people in royal attire walking towards his castle. They looked to be searching for someone. The princess? 

The princess gasped, grabbing the vampire’s attention. No. How did they find her? Panic flooded through her, she couldn’t let them take her. But her only other option was to risk death with this vampire. Did she really want to try? If she went back with the guards she’d be forced to marry that old king. They’d most definitely have her under strict surveillance to keep her from running away again. Her mother would probably hit her again, while her father just watched. 

No, she couldn’t go back to that life. She decided. She’d rather die. 

“Alice,” she jumped at the sound of her own name. One of the guards. “We know you’re here, so you might as well come back with us without resistance. If you come back willingly, the queen promised to show you leniency.”

She shook her head. Lies. She’d been promised leniency before. The queen locked her in a dungeon cell for a week. She knew better than to let them take her. She tugged on the vampire’s jacket, and shook her head at him. Tears threatened to slip down her face as she forced herself to make eye contact with this intimidating monster.

“Please,” she whispered. “You can’t let them take me. Please. They’re gonna take me back to my kingdom, and make me marry an old man and carry his children. They’re gonna keep me locked away in the dungeons for the rest of my life. Please, you have to help me. I’ll do anything.”

The vampire stared at her, examined her face before speaking.

“Give me your blood.”

“What?”

“You want my help?” he asked. “Give me your blood.”

There was pounding on the door, making Alice jump. She hastily nodded her head, giving the vampire permission to drink her blood. The vampire smiled a wicked smile and wrapped his arm around her waist. He jumped—high. Onto one of the rafters high above even the stair landing.

Alice, out of fear of falling, wrapped her arms and legs around him like a koala bear. The vampire had one hand around her waist and the other was holding her bare thigh where her dress rode up. His hand was cold on her bare skin and the contact made heat rise to her already red face. She looked up at the vampire but his gaze was locked onto the door, eyes following the guard that had made his way inside. 

The guard disappeared down the large hallway, another guard climbing the stair to inspect the second story of the castle. A few minutes went by before they both came back and exited the castle, muttering something about no sign of life. Alice let out a long sigh when all of the guards disappeared back in the direction of the castle. 

She looked at the vampire, a grateful smile slowly starting to form. “Thank you, uh. . .”

“Church,” said the vampire. His name is church? “But don’t thank me too soon, we still need to go over your payment.”

Right. Alice nodded, mentally preparing herself for what was about to come. Church dropped them down to the interior balcony, moving with such grace, Alice hardly moved in his hold. Once she was sure they were on more stable ground, she moved to stand on her own. But Church held onto her tighter, not letting her down. 

“You’re not getting away from me that easily,” he said. He leaned in, grazing his sharp fangs against her throat. Her breath hitched when he trailed his tongue over the skin, wetting the area just under her pulse. Church couldn’t take it any more. The feel of her racing pulse was right under his lips, taunting him, inviting him to just sink his teeth in. 

And so he did just that. Alice let out a gasp, Church’s saliva working as a numbing agent. Her blood exploded in his mouth as he happily drank. He drank and drank and drank, her fresh blood coursing through his veins and waking every cell in his body. He could feel Alice relax in his hold, a sigh escaping her lips, a sign that he’s taken enough blood.

He pulled away with a shuddering breath. Her blood was so refreshing, she was like a much needed gasp of air(if vampires needed to breathe). He licked the blood that trickled out of her bite, making them both shudder. If he wanted more of her delicious blood, he’d need to keep her alive. An idea popped in his head. 

He moved his head out of the crook of Alice’s neck, exposing his now flushed face and dilated pupils. Alice’s eyes were just as dilated and a hint of lust swirled within them. A side effect of being bitten. A vampire’s bite left humans dizzy, almost in the sense of being high. The same went for vampires; the fresh blood of a recent feeding leaves them high off the bloodrush as well as horny due to blood flowing through every part of their body.

“You’re so delicious,” said Church. A lazy smile formed on his lips. He supported Alice’s weight in one arm and used his free hand to grab her chin.  “I have a proposition for you.”

“Yeah?” asked Alice, she leaned forward, waiting for what Church was going to say. Church almost found her reaction cute. 

“Stay here,” he said. “And let me feed off you anytime I please.”

He saw the panic that slowly began its journey to the surface of her face, but he continued.

“And in return, I’ll treat you the way a princess should be treated. No creepy old kings, no dungeons.” He placed a much too short kiss across her parted lips. “I’ll have you living a life of pampered luxury. My pretty little pet.”

“Why?” Alice’s voice was breathy and faint to her own ears.

Church let out a short laugh. The answer was obvious to him. “Because, I’d be crazy to let you go now that I’ve gotten a taste of your delicious blood. And you are by far the most enticing little treat I’ve had in all my years of existence. It’d be such a waste to send you away.”

Alice agreed. She didn’t know if it was the mesmerizing smile Church was sending her way, or the loss of blood clouding her judgment, or both. But she agreed. The most beautiful creature she’d ever laid eyes on wanted to take care of her in exchange for her blood. And if him feeding off her was going to leave her feeling high and needy every time, she’d gladly accept.

“Okay.”

Church’s hand traveled from her chin down to her neck, fingers brushing over her bite mark. His eyes followed his hand, and Alice could see the hunger rising in them. Her breath hitched at the thought of him leaving another bite in her skin. Church smirked at her reaction and moved his hand to the back of her neck. 

“Good.”

He leaned in and sunk his fangs back into her neck, taking another long drink form her. Alice leaned her head back and sighed, another rush of bliss washed over her. Her vision slowly began to darken and she felt weak. She was losing too much blood. A faint sense of panic arose, but quickly faded as the blood loss made her tired. The longer Church drank from her, the more relaxed she felt. Her eyes felt heavy and the last thing she saw was the lapels of Church’s jacket as she fell limp in his arms.

#my own #writing #vampire #vampire x human #runaway #abandoned castle #princess #royalty #vampirism #imagines #oneshot #fantasy #monster lover

[i-actually-post-stuff]

Day 6 of @mcspirkevents Mcspirk week! 

Decided to mix it up. 

I've never publicly posted my writing before so feedback is appreciated!

All right now, how do I format this? 😂

I've decided to work with the "Only One Bed" prompt, to do more with this piece! 

Warnings

Nothing serious! Just some descriptions of bodily harm via boobytraps.

AO3 link

Spock was sitting, legs criss-cross, on the floor. Probably meditating while the painkiller sets in, Leonard thought.

It'd been one hell of a week. From breaking out of a downright stupid castle dungeon to trudging through the trap populated forest on the way to the closest city- hell- even finding someone with a kind enough heart to lend some medical supplies and a bathroom was a nightmare. “What's a warp capable planet doing pretendin’ t’ be medieval anyway..” He grumbled, disinfecting the cut on his upper jaw in the bathroom mirror.

“As you are aware, Doctor, we were informed by the preliminary survey team that the Earloric people seemed to be strictly loyal to tradition. Clearly, the survey team was accurate; the technological advancements of Caruca Prime had little impact on their social structure and traditional practices.” Spock spoke quietly, with an obvious irritation, and minimal movement.

“Or on their medical technology. I really am working with beads and rattles t’night.” McCoy added with a hint of humor.

“I find your work to be quite unchanged. Perhaps you're better suited for the work of an ancient plague doctor.” Spock prodded. McCoy's pout turned to a frown.

“N’ you're suited to be one of those demons from the paintings hung in the church hall. That's why they wouldn't let us in.” He knew Spock’s bitchyness was the result of being interrupted out of his meditation. With the week they'd been having, he couldn't blame him. “Now go on n’ rest. I won't interrupt again.”

“See that you don't, Doctor.”

Narrowly escaping execution by the king was one thing. As usual, Spock had a particularly rough time of it; He'd been shot via arrow through his left arm during their escape while attempting to shield Jim, luckily having it pass straight through, only taking off a chunk of skin (still, nothing to sneeze at). Scraped and scratched by just about everything in the forest. Caught in a barbed wire trap that bound him up by the wrists, which could have been worse, if he hadn't been getting the both of them out of the way; it was intended for the head. Hit by the first energy weapon trap they found, simply by being caught off guard by it. Downright bodied by one of those cartoonish swinging log traps after having pushed him out of the way. And just earlier that morning getting his leg caught in a bear trap. He was lucky he didn't lose it.

McCoy himself had been a lot luckier; the only real trap that'd gotten him was a rope trap the day before. It tugged tight around his ankle as it whipped him upside down, and in the process it friction-burned off a layer or two of his skin, which didn't hesitate to bleed.

Now Jim was out looking for a hospitable house, or a church, or even an inn that would take the promise of compensation arriving with The Enterprise as payment. Leonard didn't think much of their chances. At least he felt a bit better now that he’d fixed himself up.

He looked over at Spock. Despite his impeccable work at patching him up and cleaning him off, he looked like a mess. His unbrushed hair certainly being the worst offender.

Leonard grabbed a hair brush from the sink, rinsing it off, and hoping that rinsing it after he used it too would be enough to avoid disturbing the already delicate hospitality that had been extended to them. He approached Spock, kneeling in front of him. The Vulcan’s normally perfect, helmet-like hair had gone wavy, tousled and dirty. His face tired, with deepened creases, the sunkenness of minor dehydration and certainly lack of nutrition, little pigmentation- say for his under eyes. He was certain he looked worse. Blasted Vulcan constitution.

Still, seeing him hurt was never fun. It put that uneasy feeling in his core, the one that would bring his hand up to clutch at his shirt over his stomach instinctively. It was that impressive Vulcan physique of his that made it all the more troubling when something was wrong.

“Doctor.”

Leonard flinched. Spock hadn't even opened his eyes.

“Your unease is palpable from this distance.”

“I'm worried about Jim, out there all alone with a bounty on him..” Not a lie, necessarily. “Now I'm gonna brush out your hair, you're a mess.”

Spock opened his eyes drearily. “You intend to take out your anxieties on me?” He scolded.

“Hush up and take it.” McCoy huffed, taking the brush to Spock’s bangs. He found after a few strokes that it went through shockingly easily, kind of like brushing a cat.

“I also have,, reasonable concern for the Captain's safety.”

McCoy briefly looked to his eyes before continuing. There was a level of authenticity in them, slipping through the exhaustion.

“Yea?”

“You were not incorrect in your reasoning for wanting Jim to stay..”

“Thanks for your support..” He remarked sarcastically. Spock hadn't said a word to support his concerns before Jim had decided to go out on his own.

“I did not say that I agreed entirely with your opinion, simply your reasoning.”

“T’mato t’mato, Spock.”

“Incorrect. In the region of earth of your origin it is t’mata.”

McCoy chose not to yank out a clump of his hair out of spite. “I mean it's the same thing! The difference is,, inconsequential. You should’a agreed with me if you agreed with my reasoning.”

Spock seemed to hesitate, likely deciding against shaking his head. “His decision was still the best option available to us.”

McCoy sighed. Spock was right. You win this round. At least the squabbling soothed his stomachache. “And when Jim knows he's right, trying to change his mind is like,, tryn’a keep a bull from chargin’ red.”

“Correct again, Doctor.” Now was Spock trying to settle him? He could have sworn he saw a little quirk up at the corner of Spock's mouth. How cute.

~~~

Another success for Captain James T. Kirk. A kind inn owner who would trade his hospitality for some manual labor on Jim's part, and then material compensation after arrival of The Enterprise. It was a great deal. The inn owner himself was not a fan of the king, having a large family that he found it troublesome to provide for. He seemed to be good-natured enough, having at least the humor to find amusement and non-judgmental intrigue in Jim's lack of hooves. Jim had also agreed that if it took longer than expected for The Enterprise to arrive, Spock and Bones would pitch in with their help. Really, there was only one downside to the arrangement (apart from having to make it in the first place).

There was only one room left, and that was one room with one bed. Now, breaking that to those two is a whole new challenge. It was easy for him to sleep next to Spock, it was an absolute pleasure. Sleeping next to Bones was even less of an issue; if he did something silly he'd get loving teasing instead of an unreadable raised eyebrow. Both of them seemed to be quite skilled at falling asleep and being rendered entirely unshakably unconscious. Sleeping like a rock, they say. But to his knowledge, Bones and Spock had never shared a bed.

Not that he hadn't encouraged it. Despite their bickering he knew the two of them made quite the team. He would venture to call them a power couple if he didn't know uttering the words aloud in front of them would make both of them leave the room in disgust, or at least feigned disgust. Those two needed a lesson in relaxation. You're one to talk, Kirk. He shook the thought from his head. Good news. We have a nice place to stay. He started formulating what to say. It's a, beautiful, inn.

He ducked into the alley, having sworn he heard the clattering of a knight's armor. It was right before his turn anyway; he'd find his way just as easily taking a left as he would a right.

He opened the bathroom door. Spock looked a lot better, with his perfect hair and pretty eyes. He looked up at him from where he sat on the edge of the tub. “Jim.” He greeted, relieved, Kirk knew.

Bones would have also greeted him if he hadn't had an apple in his mouth. The Doctor was sitting on the sink clearly enjoying what may or may not have been stolen from the kitchen. That being thought, Spock looked better too with respect to nourishment. So maybe the hosts were a bit more gracious than he'd assumed. Instead of a greeting from his mouth, Bones just slightly smiled at him and tilted his hand in a single wave.

“And here, I thought apples and doctors didn't get along.” Kirk joked. Bones rolled his eyes and swallowed.

“What's the news, Jim?”

“Well,, good news.” Jim started. “I found this, beautiful, inn, and the owner sympathizes with our issue. He's more than willing to put us up in exchange for some supplies at a later date, and,, some help around the inn while we stay. He understands, you two got the worst of it in those woods, so I'll be helping out for the most part.”

“And the bad news?” Bones could obviously see right through the easy solution to their problems. When is he gonna stop reading me like a book?

“Well hold on now, Bones,, I wouldn't call it bad news,, he just only has the one room for us,,, with one bed.” He shrugged defensively. “I've, been assured it's a very nice bed. Plenty of room for three adults. Polyamory is apparently, quite popular, on Caruca.”

Bones and Spock had instantly looked at each other, it was something Jim was choosing to ignore, play clueless and let them sort it out.

“I'll take the floor, thanks, Jim.“ Bones started as he looked back at him.

“Illogical, Doctor, Vulcans do not require soft surfaces to sleep on as Humans do. I will take the floor.”

“With your injuries- Spock- I'm not letting you walk on your own, and I'm certainly not lettin’ you sleep on the floor!”

“The choice is not yours, Doctor.”

“I'd say it is-”

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Kirk motioned for them to soothe themselves. “save the debate for after we've seen the room.”

Bones huffed and passed the remainder of his apple to Jim, who accepted it happily; he'd been a bit caught up with hotel hunting. As always, Spock seemed to decide that such a silly disagreement was no reason to decline the good doctor's help. Bones hoisted him up and acted as a crutch for him, being the more suitable of the two of them due to his height. Jim suppressed his urge to volunteer himself. He'd restrain himself to opening doors.

~~~

A walk is easy under normal circumstances. When you're carrying someone who's twice as dense as you are, or you've got your leg recently caught in a bear trap, it's a whole lot harder. McCoy reasoned that's why getting to that nice little room on the second floor was grounds enough for Spock to withdraw his claim to the floor. It seemed that the Vulcan had non-verbally opted to simply collapse onto the bed. Although he certainly tried to make it look like a decisive choice to lay down.

Leonard wasn't doing that well either. Finding the nearest chair to slump into and almost as instantly passing out himself. But Jim picked him up. That irritating bastard clearly intended to put him in bed.

“Jim, you’re gonna put’me’right back down this’instant.” He managed getting the words out, squirming mildly- just enough to protest, not enough to actually do anything- he didn't want to be dropped, obviously. He wasn't a fool.

“Bones, you need some good sleep, I'm laying you down next to Spock and you're getting that sleep. That's an order.”

He laid Leonard right down on the bed next to Spock. They were touching, seeing that Spock took the middle of the bed accidentally. His skin was warm to the touch despite the chill on the Autumn air outside that had certainly nearly chilled McCoy to chattering teeth. Even Jim wasn't quite so warm. Hell, he couldn't even be classified as luke-warm. He was a bit too tired to theorize on whether or not Spock had a fever. It would be like that birdbrain to get one with his amalgamated biology. Poor thing.

“He's not gonna be a fan of me cuddlin’up’on’him all night, Jim, you know that.”

“I think the two of you will sleep together just fine, Bones. In fact, I'll wake you up before he's even close to waking up. So you don't get embarrassed.”

Well at least now his cheeks felt warm. “You hush..” He couldn't really argue.

The three of them were safe.

Spock was at least reasonably dressed for sleep, in his handsome black undershirt, and his work pants that never quite seemed to get in the way of sleeping in spite of their intended purpose.

He would sleep just fine in his uniform pants, and the blood on the back of his shirt had certainly dried by now.

And Jim would do just fine finding something better to sleep in than the ever so often torn up top of his and his own uniform pants.

So he closed his eyes, and he kicked off his boots and his socks. And after listening to Jim shuffle around a bit- clearly taking off Spock’s shoes, then leaving the room- he got just a bit closer to Spock. Being tucked against him warmed up his core. Hearing his heartbeat pump the blood through his arteries in overtime to fix him up soothed him; at least he knew everything was working right in there. And as he drifted in and out of consciousness for the next few minutes he recognized when Jim came back in and carefully tucked himself beside the two of them, clearly quite intentionally reaching his foot over to touch him. Probably trying to let his subconscious know that he was there.

That was good enough for him.

Who needs to have blankets on top of you when you sleep anyway?

#writing #star trek #leonard bones mccoy #leonard mccoy tos #spock #spock tos #james tiberius kirk #leonard mccoy #s'chn t'gai spock #jim kirk #jim kirk tos #mcspirk week 2023 #mcspirk

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Crossing my fingers this goes through. I was waiting for a week for it to be anwered, only to find out it didn't go through.

What if Bucky body mods/med kinks big!serumed!sub!Steve into an alpha? Gives him big, sensitive glands, a knot, and increases the (already high) sensitivity in his dick and balls? Gets him to knot the first time so he knows how good it is, and then tells him he only gets to do that when he's told he can? And later, he tells Steve what to expect from a rut, but when it finally starts, Steve is too horny to figure out what's going on until Bucky spells it out for him, and that makes the rut even stronger.

-🐍

It went through! Sorry about that, whether it was me, Tumblr, or something on your end 🤷🏻‍♂️ either way, it sucks

Hmm 👀 that'd be really interesting and would definitely require Marvel's advanced medicine and science, but I like the idea. For whatever reason, I imagine in this AU, Bucky would take beta big-sub!Steve and make him into an alpha.

Of course, you could, theoretically, make big, subby omega Steve into an alpha, but there's just something about the idea of him being a beta first that appeals to me. I suspect the part of it that I am drawn to is how if he were a beta, it'd mean that he's never experienced a mating cycle before, translating into one hell of a situation once his first rut does hit. Like, teenage presentation of rut, but on steroids. Nothing he's ever felt before.

(That or perhaps this is a "normal" AU, not omegaverse, and so Bucky is modeling all his work off of this shared fantasy they have about omegaverse, kind of like this collections of roleplay fics on AO3--"bucky loves his 'alpha'" by hey_you_with_the_face)

*slight dub-con vibes throughout this drabble since Steve doesn't actually know what's going on. He's just trusting Bucky to make mods to his body. BUT, he very much wants all of it once he knows what's happening.

Sensitive glands

*it occurred to me after I wrote the first part of this that you meant scent glands. Listen... I have no actual excuses, I just dive into things, and the only thing I think about is dick so... 🤷🏻‍♂️

I would like to imagine this happens before Bucky gives him a knot.

His glands suddenly swell, getting bigger, barely bigger, but there's still a change. His glands tint pinkier and become even more sensitive to the touch than ever before. It's different.

Just the slide of foreskin against his glands makes his knees feel wobbly with sudden jolts of sensation. Moving back to expose his sensitive head or moving forward to hide it again. Either way, it's sharp. It's almost painful. So, so sensitive. His skin feels too tight just from that tiny change! These helpless little shocked noises fall out of him, especially when it happens by accident--his dick getting caught on the zip of his jeans, his dick bunching in his underwear, his own clumsiness when washing in the shower, leaning too hard against a counter, etc. The drag of his foreskin against himself is suddenly unbearable.

Like, curl-your-toes-where-you-stand unbearable.

Like, unbearable [outrageously sexy].

Also, I'd like to imagine that the change to his glands is one of the first changes that Steve notices in this transformation. It's the sudden unbearable sensitivity, the way the head of his cock swells ever so slightly, changing in shape, and the overnight change in shade is also noticeable, flushed.

Steve even notices it when he's hard enough to start dripping pre-cum from the slit of his cock, the sizzling, hot-feeling liquid seeps down the head of his dick and gets between his foreskin and the glands and... there's something he can't identify exactly. It, it feels different. It feels like he's never felt it before! Like he's back in puberty experiencing erections for the first time.

The change really, really sinks in, though, when Bucky insists, one evening, on stripping him bare, laying him out, tying him up, spread eagle, and doing the unthinkable--

All Bucky is doing is just jerking him off.

God.

Steve wants to wriggle and scream and cry.

Bucky's doing nothing else! Nothing else to him! He needs more! He needs to never fucking be touched again! He wants to crawl out of his skin, he wants to sink into the sensation and never move ever again.

It's wild.

Lungs heaving. Neck twisting side to side. Abs clenching. Hips siezing up. Eyes squeezed shut but not stopping a few tears from escaping.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Bucky has restrained Steve so that he can't touch anything--each arm and each leg to one bed post. Steve can't touch Bucky or himself. His legs aren't even rubbing together. He's spread so wide that his balls aren't touching his upper inner thighs. His arms don't brush past his head, held above his shoulders. Nothing. There is nothing.

Nothing but the sensation of Bucky jerking him off. It is the only point of focus he has. The only connection. The only torture. Sweet, sweet torture. And, fuck, jerking off isn't even the right way to say it because that implies he's using his whole hand and that he's moving his wrist, stroking him. He isn't.

Bucky is using this new weakness against him mercilessly.

His fingers--the fingers of his flesh-and-blood hand are folded into a tight ring, specifically just his index finger and thumb. Bucky is using that ring to move Steve's foreskin, pulling it up the head of his dick, stimulating his glands, and then pulling it back down again, also stimulating his glands. Playing with him. Milking him. The ring of his fingers feels like it pops over the ridge that separates the head of his dick from the shaft with each slide.

It hurts.

It feels so good.

Tight and sensitive and everything.

He's burning alive; he's melting; he's never been wetter. So wet. Dripping--dripping down the throbbing, hot shaft of his cock, and dripping down the tight, unforgiving hold Bucky's hand has on him.

Steve's crying.

Steve's screaming--

Because, because, fuck, Bucky has finally moved his other hand from where he positioned himself neatly between Steve's shaking thighs so their skin doesn't touch, and he uses that other fucking hand to fucking rub one finger against his slit, too, using his fingernail to scrape against it just so.

Steve's vision goes black for a moment.

Oh, oh, oh.

He's not sure he can even make a sound. Nothing comes out. His neck goes limp.

Still. Bucky keeps torturing him. Wringing sensations from him that feel like electricity. Shooting through him. It's almost too much to think about cumming. Overstimulated.

Help, Steve wants to cry for help, he can't--

He can't!

Everything in him gives up at once, fully boneless, and just when he does, Bucky feels it. And Bucky rewards him for it.

Bucky changes Steve's thoughts about cumming because he tells him to. He squeezes the crown of his cock so hard that Steve squeals and tugs hard enough on the restraints trying to curl up in a ball and protect his poor, poor cock that the shock radiates down his limbs. It's his voice, rough and in arguable, that pushes Steve over the edge. He feels his cock flex and twitch and pull the orgasm up from his balls.

GodfuckingJesusGOD.

There's too much pleasure to register all of it. It shatters him.

Scent glands, though...

Bucky would have Steve squirming with just the lightest brush of his fingers against the new, raised, sensitive patches of skin. Extra pink compared to the rest of his pale, freckled body. Those new additions are practically begging for Bucky's attention, standing out in such a way.

Anyway--

Just the pads of Bucky's fingers barely gliding over the glands now on the sides of the base of Steve's neck, under his arms, and high on the insides of his thighs as well as near the base of his dick is enough to make shivers race up Steve's spine. Ticklish. Yet, also, panting from it. Mouth hanging open. His dick twitching and swelling until he's desperately hard.

And Steve will be hard so long as Bucky keeps the touches up--no matter if the touches don't get harder or not. Soft and gentle keeps him throbbing when he's so reactive.

Electric.

He can't help it!

When Bucky touches him there, Steve can't think. He doesn't even know how to ask Bucky what he's done to him. It shuts his brain off like a switch. He looks dumb like that. So turned on that his brain has been turned off.

Empty headed.

When Steve has an influx of hormones as a result of Bucky's playing with him--injections, pills, and other medical play that Steve enjoys with his eyes closed and head lulling back from the impersonal and examining touches and clinical, dettached speak--those glands get inflamed. They're tender. Painful, almost, just barely on the edge of not.

As a result, Bucky decides to rub some ice cubes across those sensitive patches of skin. Watching the chilly cubes melt against his pale, gorgeous skin. The chilly water makes alluring rivers across his goosebumps.

Steve shudders--he can't stop shivering.

The whole time, he's gasping, whimpering, and shivering, trying to get away from it. It feels like it's inside his body. Like the ice is in his veins. Traveling from his new scent glands to his heart and back around his body.

Afterward, when his new, shiny glands are somewhat numb, Bucky massages them. Pressing his thumbs into his skin, trying to make sure they don't remain inflamed. Soothing. Or, it would be soothing if it weren't still sending waves and waves of hormones through Steve's body. Leaving him a husk of a man. All he is is sparks of muted pleasure. It's like being touched through his clothes because he's mostly numb.

Fuck.

Steve is only a puddle.

A knot

Steve is going to town between Bucky's plush thighs, fucking them, begging Bucky to hold his legs together tighter, needing the slick, hot friction and clawing at him, so, so close to tears, when Bucky tells him, beautifully deadpan, that he doesn't know... his legs are starting to hurt. It's hard to hold them together like that...

No, no, no!

He can't!

Steve is so close! He needs something hot and tight to fuck.

Bucky threatens with a teeth heavy smile that's mascarading as being sweet, that, oh, well, if he just needs something tight than Bucky can go and get him a fleshlight. That should do the job, right? Especially with some nice warming lube to make it reeeeal sloppy and wet.

Steve collapses on top of Bucky, crying with real tears all of a sudden, spilling onto Bucky's hard chest, that he can't do that! Anything but that! He needs Bucky. Bucky. He needs Bucky.

Any part of him he's willing to let Steve use!

Fine.

Bucky agrees to let Steve keep fucking his thighs as if his own cock isn't hard and drooling a puddle onto his twitching abs--as if it's a fucking hardship.

Fine.

Steve cries his thank you out of quivering lips. Breaking down.

His crumbling doesn't prevent him from getting back. to. it. Fucking Bucky's thighs. Hard. Deep. Making the worst kind of obscene sounds with every weight-honed thrust. Sucking and wet. All that lube smeared indecently across the soft, fatty flesh of Bucky's inner thighs. He's going and going and whining, and suddenly--

He doesn't know what's happening.

There's, oh, God, there's this pressure!

He doesn't know where it's coming from because surely Bucky's just clamping his thighs together tighter, finally giving Steve some mercy, but then why does it feel like it's coming from inside Steve? Why does it feel like a balloon expanding that's about to pop. Overfilled. Pressure and pressure and--

OH!

Through gritted teeth, Steve screams, his orgasm smashing into him like a freight train. Destroying him.

All the pressure, all that pleasure--it feels so good that it hurts. Like fire. It feels like fire! Like he's been ripped open and filled with lava. His vision gets black spots before going completely blank, eyes rolling back, jaw clenching until the joint creaks from the stress.

He's never felt--

He's never felt anything like it.

He's never cum so hard.

OhfuckingGod.

His mind is still spinning faster than he can keep up with when suddenly Bucky is surging up, flipping their positions so he's on top of Steve, straddling his trim waist, and is wrapping his fingers around Steve's wrist to pull his hand down to his cock and placing it on--

What?

Steve's mind isn't just spinning anymore, it's spinning so fast that it's being pulled apart by gravity, spread thin. He has no concept of gravity himself. What's up and what's down? What is fucking happening?

Huh?

He's struck dumb.

Bucky has him grabbing his cock but it doesn't feel like his cock because he's fisting the base and it's, it's thick.

The base of his dick is swollen and so fucking hard, taut, Steve can feel his pulse thudding through him like a fist banging on a drum with the furious intent to break the instrument. It feels like there's a ball that's been shoved down his slit all the way to the base of his cock. Impossibly large. So tight.

Steve is whimpering in a way that's hilariously pathetic. Tiny. Thin. High. Tears streaming out of his tightly shut eyes.

What?

Bucky puts both of his hands around Steve's and makes him squeeze his cock hard.

AH!

Steve screams again even though he doesn't have enough air for it. Suffocating. He sees God. It feels so unbelievable that it's killing him.

What. is. that?

Steve thrashes as Bucky keeps making Steve grope himself. It almost feels better now than it did before his cock did... that. Whatever is happening to him. How? How can it feel better?

How can he cum again when he's just, just been destroyed by the best orgasm of his life?

What?

When Steve is finally not still cumming and his dick is still swollen but throbbing somewhat less, Bucky cautiously lets him touch himself more. Shift his hand around. Get both hands on it. It doesn't feel too good to keep his hands off of it, the lack of pressure hurts under his skin in a way that's just wrong, so Steve holds it like he's got the desperate urge to piss. Both hands tight around the base of his cock. It's humiliating. It's fucking great.

Steve can't believe Bucky when he tells him that this is his knot.

He stares open mouthed at Bucky.

Is this gonna happen every time he orgasms? How long does it last? It's not permanent, right!? He flicks his eyes down to his cock weary of his body in a way that he hasn't been since he first got the serum.

Bucky just smirks and kisses him on the forehead, pretending he's not an evil mastermind fulfilling Steve's deepest sexual desires--so deep that he wasn't even aware they existed before.

"Dunno, guess you'll have to figure that out yourself, huh?"

Steve wants to groan in complaint, but all that will come out is a complaining whimper...

Overall sensitivity

Poor Steve, overall, his body has gone h a y w i r e

It's almost like a repeat of getting the serum. The symptoms aren't the same, but that confusion of what is happening to him and how different everything feels all at once are the same. Steve thinks it might be better the second time around. Maybe it's because he's able to enjoy it this time around (re: Bucky can take advantage of said new sensitivities whenever he likes, no war, overt homophobia, or anything else to distract them). Or maybe it's because Bucky is doing it to him.

It's probably because it's Bucky doing it to him--no matter how often they roleplay with Bucky as the doctor and Steve the patient, Steve knows Bucky is doing this to him.

Bucky is making his body so sensitive to even the slightest touch that he's nearly fainting, knees weak. Even when doing something as normal as zipping up his jeans, he can't help but fall apart. Steve stays in sweatpants for weeks.

And, God, Bucky just brushes a hand over his crotch and Steve's whining, shrill, and getting hard so fast that his vision swims, lightheaded.

It feels like not even a single hour can pass without Steve needing to be scraped off of the floor, couch, or bed, depending on what he was doing when his sensitivity finally wore through him. Unable to take it. Needing. Now. Needing something, anything right now--humping the floor, sliding a hand into his own pants, getting off against a stray pillow, pressing a hand against himself over his clothes, fondling his own junk or his own chest, gasping, begging Bucky for help, anything.

Anything.

And to think that Steve thought he had a hair trigger before...

Compared to now, like this, adjusting to his alpha-body, it seems like he had unbelievable stamina then. He's so weak.

Rut

The first rut that Steve goes into is a surprise to Steve, of course, but it's also a shock to Bucky. If Bucky knew it was coming, he wouldn't've left the house, but... because it isn't a sure science and it comes when it wants to... Bucky isn't home.

And Steve is left to sink slowly into insanity by himself.

At first, he thinks the thermostat has turned itself up or the AC isn't working, and so that's why he's feeling hot and sweaty. No problem, he turns it down. When Steve's body starts telling him to pay less attention to his book and more to his cock, Steve assumes that, well, nothings wrong. This is his life right now. He's always ready for it. Although, usually not so ready as to need to strip out of all his clothes, save for his underwear, and lie back on the sofa, feeling wound up for... no apparent reason. His sweats weren't even rubbing against his dick. He's not reading anything particularly stimulating. He's not thinking about Bucky.

He's just hard and sweaty and... kinda itchy and achy. His neck itches, especially around his scent glands, and his jaw aches. He's not hungry, but he's feeling like he needs to bite something. Not chew. Bite.

The seemingly random urges only grow and grow as Steve continues to be left alone.

Time drags out unbearably. So. fucking. slow.

However, Steve refuses to stop reading. Mostly because he's stubborn--it's not that good of a book. But, also because, damnnit, he gets off so fucking often (especially when Bucky isn't home and he's getting off alone, it's nowhere near as satisfying, so he needs more). But, it's fine. He'll be fine until Bucky comes home. He can wait.

He's not fine until Bucky comes home.

By the time Bucky is coming through their front door, Steve is not good. He's sweaty as fuck. His chest is heaving. His skin feels like it's paper thin and too tight at the same time, sensitive and uncomfortable. He's burning with a fever. He's obsessed with the thought of grabbing Bucky--he wants to feel him under his hands, under his jaws, he wants to have him. He needs to have him. It's the only thing he can think about--

BuckyBuckyBuckyBuckyBucky.

So, immediately, Steve is all over Bucky before the other man can even shut the fucking door. Steve is panting, and so, so hard. He's been hard all fucking day. It won't go away! He's vibrating.

He needs.

Before Steve even registers the thought of speaking, he's begging Bucky. Begging so fucking hard that he's sliding down onto his knees and wrapping himself around Bucky's legs, pressing his face as close to him as he can get. Nose smushed against his thigh. Smelling him. Kissing him. Licking him. Dragging his teeth against him. Begging him.

Caught off guard, but very pleased with this delicious development, Bucky hauls Steve by the back of the neck toward their bed. Steve whimpers the entire time, stumbling, twisting, trying to reach out and touch Bucky. He's so fucking hard. He's so close to getting what he needs. But this isn't it! Why can't they fucking fuck in the doorway! What's so wrong with that!? It's their fucking home! So, Steve's upset. But, he's also thrilled--this crazed state is going to stop! And it's going to be sweet, sweet release.

Please.

Or, Steve thinks it's going to end. But, with Bucky-?

C'mon.

He should know better after so many years--after so many lifetimes.

Once they're in the bedroom, Bucky is throwing him down onto the matress and getting on top of him, normally, Steve is more than fine with being ridden into oblivian, but the ache deep inside him says no. No. Just this once, he can't have that. He can't! He wants to fuck Bucky so hard that he puts him through the mattress.

He needs to.

He needs to take him.

Bucky doesn't give him a chance to think about it, though. Instead, he interrupts him with a demand, "how horny are you?"

Steve whines. He can't rub two brain cells together to form words! And he can't move either, no matter how much he craves mounting Bucky and making him take it, this is his dom. He can't disobey him. So he suffers. He lets Bucky sit on top of him without having the fucking decency to fucking do anything when he's in such a state. Suffering.

What does it feel like? Are you close? Does it hurt? Does it feel good? What do you want to do to me?

Bucky asks him question after question.

Unrelenting.

But Steve is just too goddamn dumb to answer, whimpering and humping up, trying to grind against nothing but empty air.

Please!!

It's unspeakably frustrating.

Steve grits his teeth until they feel like they're going to break. His fists clench the sheets so hard that he rips them. His skin is slick with bullet after bullet of sweat--its practically a firing squad. Hell, facing a firing squad would be easier than this.

He's dying.

And Bucky's questions only get more and more filthy. His fucking mouth, doing all the heavy lifting when he's not even touching Steve other than where he's sitting low on his thighs, weighing him down.

This is hell.

Steve has already died, and this is hell.

Do you need to knot? Do you need to fuck something? Do you wanna fill something up with cum from those big, heavy alpha balls? Do you need to breed something? Do you need to knock something up? Rut it out?

Steve sobs and sobs, humping fucking NOTHING even though he's shaking from the strain of lying immobile.

He breaks.

Shatters.

He admits yes. His tongue only working after what feels like hours of his mind begging for it.

Are you a slut for having that hot cock squeezed? Are you a slut for having anything around your cock? Do you need a nice little cocksleeve?

Yes.

YES.

Y-E-S.

Steve's incoherent now, blubbering affirming sounds and hoping that Bucky takes at least one to be good enough. If he could make his body work, he'd admit to anything at the moment. Anything. Just for a chance at fucking Bucky.

PLEASE.

Finally--

Finally, Bucky takes pity on him. Flipping them and letting Steve fuck him. Steve wants to mount him, get Bucky actually on all fours and take him from behind like the primal urges demand, but Steve cannot wait that long. Even if he wants it more than he wants air, he can't fucking wait one more fucking minute.

Bucky flips them, and Steve is taking the gilded opportunity.

In no time at all, his face is planted in the center of Bucky's pecs, whimpering and whining and crying. Humping him. Fucking him. Mating him. Defiling him.

Steve knots him and ends up passing out. It's so intense. Too much for his body.

He wakes up when Bucky knows his knot has gone down enough to slip out of him and Bucky does just that. Just to see what's happen. Steve wakes up with a pathetic cry. He's hard again. His knot has deflated, but he's still jaw-achingly hard. And, well, they have to do something about that, don't they?

This time Steve fucks Bucky doggy style, blubbering, promising to breed him good, knock him up nice and heavy and give him big, heavy babies, gonna pump more cum into him, and he's gonna do it until Bucky's pleased. Until Bucky passes out. Anything he wants.

Anything he wants.

Steve passes out again after another helplessly frantic round, waking up later to have Bucky feed and water him by hand as Bucky explains that this is rut.

Steve moans, thinking about this happening every month. Every few months? Every six months? They won't know until his body settles. Either way, whatever the time frame, fuck, he's never going to get anything done!

I hope this was worth the wait!

#asks #🐍 anon #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #fandomfluffandfuck #big sub steve #dom bucky #omegaverse #alpha steve

[qvid-pro-qvo]

#13 for apple replay with….hangster

lizzy mcalpine - apple pie

Cause every house looks the same in my dreams Every house feels like home for a couple weeks I've been running 'round trying to find a place where I can breathe But me oh my I found you under an April sky And you feel like City life, apple pie baked just right Home is wherever you are tonight

jake's staring up at the ceiling when he hears the front door open.

of course he's been staring up at the ceiling for a while. when bradley had left to go get dinner he'd given him a kiss that'd made his heart pound and a stupid wink that made jake roll his eyes.

don't get into trouble without me, he'd said, grinning with the eye roll, snagging jake's house key and slamming the door behind him. and since then, jake hasn't moved from his spot on the bed, staring at the ceiling. he feels unable to. feels paralyzed.

heart still pounding. head now spinning.

maybe it's just the long list of issues he has, but jake always feels nervous when bradley walks out the door. anxious that the man won't make the trip back. that the bronco will hit the open road and vanish, never to be seen again. his chest tightens, and his breath comes out a little shorter as he goes about his day or his life until he sees the other man.

not maybe. it's definitely because of his issues, but also. jake knows these things happen. people leave. things change. god knows the navy doesn't do their "on-again and almost never off-again" thing they have any favors.

and yet... bradley always comes back. after a long deployment jake's phone always rings. after a dangerous mission there's always at least a text. and after short errands and going to get dinner, the bronco always pulls back in the drive, and bradley waltzes back into jake's life with some food for the both of them and that maddening grin.

this is what jake thinks about. bradley being there. bradley coming back. and jake, doing the same, coming back to bradley the same way. coming back with food. with drinks. with a kiss, or three.

bradley always being his first call once he gets stateside, no matter where the hell he ends up landing.

so jake doesn't move when the door opens, though his heart might just explode out the front of his chest with how hard it's beating. he waits until he hears the bags rustle and sit on the coffee table, waits and waits and waits until bradley peeks his head in the bedroom and shoots him that same maddening smile.

"got something deep-fried and greasy," he tells him. "you comin'?"

and with that smile, jake feels like he can breathe a little easier. feels the tightness in his chest subside.

"took you long enough," he says, rolling up and over to stand, picking a shirt off the ground and throwing it on and knowing by the length that it's bradley's from the last time he came over. "should just give you your own key at this point, so i can do things while i'm waiting for your sorry ass."

"you love my ass," bradley counters, before blinking at the comment. eyes widening as he stares at the other man. "wait. you - you want me to stay?"

jake's own grin plays on his features, before he leans forward and kisses bradley against the doorframe until they're both breathing a little hard.

"i never want you to leave."

-

opened up prompts! <3 send me one!

#prompt fill #hangster #bradley bradshaw #jake seresin #bradley x jake #jake x bradley #qvo ships tgm #top gun: maverick #rooster #hangman #my fic #my writing #charlie :)