See What Had Happened Was..mama Cloud Was Gonna Go To Bed,,,but Can We Please Talk About Skinny Emo Boys

grrr i just wanna be the fruity fours chubby gf & have each of them lay on my tummy :(

like you wear a outfit that shows a little more skin than usual bc they’ve helped you gain more confidence. all their brains just completely short circuit. they all make different comments on your outfit, but each one makes you more flustered than the last.

I JUST WANT THEM TO WORSHIP ME AGHHH -🛸

PRRRRR!!!!

(cws: plus size!f!angelface, fruity four, body worship, a lil fluff, a lil spice, the four being soft and thirsty for their gf <3)

being fruity four's chubby girlfriend propaganda.....your tummy is the most coveted napping spot in the house. you'll be splayed out on the couch or the chair or in bed, and so often you'll have a fluffy-haired head (usually Eddie or Nancy) sinking down on your exposed belly to snuggle in and kiss before they fall asleep. Robin especially likes the spot on the floor at your feet while you're sitting up on the sofa, a movie playing on the tv while she sits back and gently rubs your calves, your thighs resting on each shoulder for her head to be squished between while she turns and nuzzles your soft skin. Steve purposely keeps the house warm so you'll be more apt to wear shorts when you're just relaxing inside, half because he loves seeing your bare legs and half because he wants to feel you shiver in delight when he squeezes them as you walk by.

and yes, please, please wear those outfits you like that show off your skin! they're so happy you're comfortable enough to do it, and to pull out those clothes that you've shoved into your closet because you liked them, but were too shy to wear them out. Steve and Robin will have conversations at length about your boobies, about how they look in those cute outfits and how flattering they are on your curves--and for once Robin won't clock him about using that particular word, because she's clearly lost in her own fantasy when they daydream together about the perfect items that would show off those goods, even though in reality you'd never wear them out the door before they'd be tearing them off of you. sometimes Nancy will come up behind you while you're looking at yourself in the mirror, and fix your clothes so they sit where they naturally do and not where you've adjusted them to try and cover certain areas you dislike. it just so happens that that usually means you've got your tummy out and you can clearly see those lines and curves and soft spots, and she just goes feral over it. like really feral, I'm gonna eat you out right here so you can watch your beautiful self cum kinda feral. Eddie does the same thing as well, except he's more apt to get on his knees and kiss your belly if you say bad things about it--cause c'mon, don't insult his favourite pillow! don't hide her all the time! let her out of containment!!

either way, if ever you wonder whether they're really sincere about liking your body type, just stand in front of a mirror or just have your tummy out and available--rest assured there will be someone sniffing you out like a bloodhound and descending on you to turn you into a human pillow or a cum dumpster cause they just can't help it

Best Friends Club

summary: prompt fill. Wally's been your best friend since the Grade 4 puppet show. a disaster that brought you together for life. only now, years later and months away from graduation, Wally needs to get something off his chest. he just...didn't exactly plan to do it this way... (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. friends to lovers. protective behavior. AU. silliness & fluff. Simon and Wally are bros (fight me).

bon reading, frens

___________________________☄️

Best Friends Club

Wally's chatting with Maddie and Charley before school, has his arm around your shoulders as you focus on your phone, laughing and joking and smiling wide until:

"Holy crap, Jake Tremblay just asked me to go out Friday," You announce, pretty eyes wide, blinking in shock at everyone.

Wally goes still, smile sliding off his face as his stomach drops and his heart ups and lodges itself in his throat. God, this hurts.

See, the thing is, you're Wally's best friend. And while he has his arm around you—is always reaching for you, hand on your back, arm, shoulder, whatever—it's never been anything but friendly. Best friendly. Because you and he are f r i e n d s. And it sucks. Royally.

Why? Yeah, no one needs three guesses to figure out that Wally's been in love with you since Grade 4. That massacre of a puppet show the kids put on for their parents during Spirit Week. You and Wally spent the entire performance using sock puppets to have a dialogue about who'd win in a fight: Goku or Sailor Moon. Didn't even notice the blood vessel about to pop in Mr. Toast's temple when things really started to spiral.

Wally only comes down to earth when you say his name for what must not be the first time, everyone's eyes on him. Yours, especially, beautiful and concerned as you stare at him expectantly.

"What was that?" He asks, feeling simultaneously dumb and unable to function.

You repeat, "I asked you what I should say..." and turn to face him fully. Still close enough that your body heat soaks through his hoodie. Fuck, how can he say anything negative when you're giving him that sweet, earnest expression? Seeking advice from someone you trust implicitly.

Against his better judgment—or maybe for it—Wally slaps on a smile and says, "Yeah. You should go for it."

This isn't the first time you've been asked out. Of course, those last few times you didn't look so keen on accepting the offer. When you turn back to your phone, Wally's face immediately falls. He doesn't look at Maddie or Charley, can't handle the pity he knows he'll see in their eyes.

Everyone in the circle knows about Wally's crush on you (fuck, it's so much more than that), but apart from insisting he talk to you, no one points it out. You're the only one who hasn't caught on, Nicole having informed Wally that you giggled over popcorn, what are you talking about? Wally's always like that, when everyone was at the APEX for a midnight screening of some scary movie Wally couldn't have cared less about.

And, sure, Wally is 'always like that': Goofy, charming, flirtatious; standing in line at concessions for you and holding your bag when you go to the bathroom... What you don't seem to grasp is that Wally isn't like that with anyone else. And now you're saying 'yes' to Jake Tremblay and Wally has to muster the strength not to punch a wall.

‗•‗

Simon closes his locker only to jolt backwards. Wally appeared out of the fucking ether, what the hell? He has his forehead pressed against the locker beside Simon's, shoulders slumped, looking all-in-all miserable to exist.

"Yoouu okay?" Simon ventures, raising a brow.

Slowly, Wally turns his head and nothing else, eyes puppy-dog sad and lower lip pursed in a pout, "No." And then, after turning to face the locker again, "She said yes to Jake Tremblay."

"Dude, I've told you a thousand times, talk. to. her." Simon says like a mother insisting Wally clean his room.

Pointed, "Oh, you mean like you talked to Maddie?"

Simon takes a moment to reevaluate his life before, in a placid, neutral tone, declares, "I regret this friendship."

"No you don't." Wally says, but he's still glooming into the locker. "What do I do?"

"Aside from talk to her?" Simon shrugs helplessly. How's he supposed to know? He and Wally have been paddling the same sinking boat for approximately the same number of years. "Do you...wanna threaten Jake?" Simon asks in a pitch similar to that used when asking children if they want to go for ice cream after a tantrum.

Wally seems to seriously consider it but glumly decides, "No. I want her to be happy." A heavy sigh. "Even if it's not with me."

"This isn't going to make you some kind of martyr, you know."

"I know."

Simon doesn't think Wally does know, but fine, he'll play along. "Maybe it'll go so bad that she swears off dating forever."

"A guy can dream," Wally mumbles as he straightens, and, Jesus, he looks like every kitten in the world just got launched at the sun and he was forced to watch.

Simon can see beneath Wally's utter despair to the gears turning in his brain. Can sense what ill-advised plan Wally is cooking up (because this isn't the first time he's done something stupid to ensure you're safe). In an effort to, a) avoid criminal charges and, b) make Wally feel better:

"What if I happen to be in the same place at the same time? I could keep an eye on things for you." Simon suggests and he already wishes he didn't say anything.

Wally brightens, "You'd do that for me?"

"Apparently..." Simon says, questioning himself. "Look, better me than you, right? Otherwise, it'll be exactly what it is and she'll never talk to you again."

"Why? What would it be if I do it?"

"Stalking, Wally," Simon states as he heads into History, Wally at his heels.

"Hey!" Wally protests, "It's not like that!"

Taking his seat, Simon just gives Wally a pointed stare, "Buddy, I know you read those BookTok romances, but following your BFF on her date with another dude isn't a romantic gesture. It's creepy a-f."

"But...you'll do it for me?" Wally wants to confirm, his eyes all wide and pleading.

Simon sighs, thinking this is a terrible idea, but seeing Wally so sad breaks Simon's heart and he can't bring himself to take back the offer. "...Apparently."

‗•‗

Friday comes. It's all you've been talking about since Monday and Wally has had it up to here with Jake This and Jake That, and if he hears one. more. thing. about Jake, Wally's going to burst into a million pieces of ragehate and take the whole school with him.

But he smiles and nods and teases you like he would in any other situation, bumping your ass with his hip when he finds you bent over at your locker at lunch. You don't even need to look to know it's him, simply continue to shove your backpack in your locker and grab your jean jacket.

"Diner?" You give him a sunshine smile that Wally returns, almost forgetting about your date and Jake and how you're not actually Wally's girlfriend.

Not in this lifetime, his brain reminds him bluntly.

His blood stings.

Over lunch at the diner down the street, you outline exactly what Jake has planned. Dinner at the Italian place beside the Arcade (it's fucking Olive Garden, Jake, do better) and then—Jesus, really?!—stargazing on the roof of the old cigarette factory. An organized thing. The planets will be in some kind of super rare alignment or something, and local enthusiasts have banded together to share their telescopes.

"No offense, but since when do you care about the planets?" Wally wonders as he dips his fries into your ketchup.

You shrug, "I mean, it's something to do, right? And you're always telling me to 'branch out and try new things, dorkface'," You exaggerate the last part in a parody of Wally's voice before continuing as yourself, "so, why not astronomy?"

"Because it's outside and you hate outside things before May." Wally chuckles and shakes his head, "You're gonna get cold and complain and steal Jake's hoodie like you've stolen five of mine."

Wally loathed the idea of you stealing another guy's anything, but he smiles through the jealousy. Perhaps a little too intent on smearing more fries through your ketchup as his knee bumps the underside of the table in quick, nervous intervals.

Oh, he is not doing well.

He instantly notices how you've gone still, how you're studying his expression, words, behavior like a zoologist at the gorilla enclosure because Wally can't fucking keep his cool when he's forced to think about you being cozy and cute for someone who isn't him-shaped.

Wally keeps his eyes on his plate for a few moments; long enough that you gracefully change the subject and ask Wally what his plans are for tonight. As if they don't involve hanging out with his phone while he obsessively waits for Simon's updates throughout the course of your date.

"Nothing special," He says, patting himself on the back for keeping his voice even, "just hanging out at home."

‗•‗

It's 8:43PM when Wally's phone lights up with a call. As promised, Simon kept Wally abreast of every. single. thing. you and Jake did on your date. From flirty conversation over unlimited breadsticks to shifting to one side of the booth to split dessert.

It's only been an hour and a half since you and Jake were seated. What on earth could Simon have to tell him that couldn't be texted?

"Don't freak out—" Wally promptly freaks out "—but something happened."

Wally shoots up in bed, where he's been whiling away since he got home from school, and is immediately on alert. Heart pounding, blood pumping, ready for war.

"What's going on? Is she okay?"

"Oh. She's fine." Simon reports. He sounds like he's hiding, voice a harsh whisper just loud enough for Wally to hear. "Jake might be in a permanent body cast for the rest of his life, but she's totally fine."

Wally breathes a sigh of relief, although he's still confused, "What happened?"

Simon clears his throat, "She's probably going to call you in, like, a minute, so you have to act...just...be cool, okay?" And then, finally, he reveals, "Jake tried to stick his hand under her skirt. And I mean, he went for it. Full grope from behind."

At that moment, Wally sees fucking r e d. He's off the phone and in his car faster than a bullet, tearing out of his parents' driveway with a screech. Burns rubber around every corner; breaks several traffic laws; and pulls up just as you're about to get into an Uber. There's no sign of Jake. Unfortunate, since Wally has a surplus of adrenaline thrumming through his veins, and the only cure is beating the guy's face to a fucking pulp.

You look confused for all of a second before your face crumples. Wally gets out of the driver's seat and hurries toward you. Gathers you in his arms as soon as you're within reach, and holds you as you shake. He rubs your back, soothes you with soft words; managing to simultaneously shoo the Uber driver away with a polite nod and a gesture.

"Are you okay?" He asks after a minute. "Do I need to kill him?"

"...No," You mumble into Wally's chest. "I already did that."

Wally grins, though it's sad at its edges. You shouldn't have had to.

"That's my girl," He murmurs into your hair after he places a comforting kiss on your head. "Come on. I'll drive you home."

You go without resistance, even allowing Wally to fuss over you and buckle you in. As he settles behind the wheel, he glances at you again and realizes, "Whose jacket is that?"

You press your lips together and stare at your lap, "I got cold... Besides, after what he did, I think I earned it." You end firmly, crossing your arms.

"Did you take it before or after you kicked his ass?"

"After, duh." You say like it's so obvious, "We were inside before. But I didn't want to wait for my Uber in front of everyone who saw what happened. So...I made him give it to me."

Wally barks a laugh as he takes your hand, holding it in that platonic way, fingers not laced how he wants them to be, but he'll take what he can get. Your knuckles are raw where they made impact with whatever part of Jake you punched. Wally smooths the pad of his thumb over them. Gentle. Loving.

"Where to, sweetcheeks?" He asks, "Home or ice cream?"

"Home." You decide with finality which makes it hard to swallow around the lump of disappointment in Wally's throat.

Call him selfish, but he hoped you'd want to let him comfort you. Regardless, he does as he's told and pulls away from the curb, pulling a uey to head toward your house.

‗•‗

On Monday, Wally finds Jake in the boys' locker room after swim practice, his black eye looking like it needs a twin. Wally punches Jake hard enough that even he sees circling birdies.

He shakes out his hand as he leaves without a word, hardly feeling the pain through the smug satisfaction warming his belly.

‗•‗

It's the next weekend when you invite Wally over for a casual afternoon kick back. I need Best Friend Time, you said, all adorable and gloomy, wanting to put all thoughts of ever dating again behind you (thanks for putting that out there, Simon, you da man!). Wally's in, of course he is, on the road as soon as you hang up.

Your parents are having a late lunch with friends a town over, so it'll be just you and him for a while. Games and snacks and Domino's on the menu for dinner. When you answer the door for him, you've got some of that sunshine glow back in your eyes, your smile making Wally's heart flutter.

You lead him to the basement, everything already set up: coffee table pushed aside for the nest of blankets and pillows on the floor, bags of gummy worms and twizzlers (Wally's favorite) and those Canadian chips you like in a pile beside cans of Dr. Pepper and Coke Zero.

Wally wore his cleanest sweatpants for the occasion, matching your chill vibe. And damn those low-slung yoga pants and that fucking tight-as-sin tank top, no bra because you love to drive Wally crazy.

"Ready to have your ass handed to you again?" You joke as you get comfortable on your side of the nest.

Wally claps back, "Hah! You haven't won in three months, sugarlips, what makes you think today's the day?"

You just smirk and hand Wally a controller, "I have a plan." And that's all there is to it. You don't elaborate, don't hint, don't give Wally any indication whatsoever what this plan might be.

Fishy...but effective. You're already in Wally's head. Hmm, maybe that's the plan? Wally shakes himself to attention and starts the game, grinning like a shark as he gets the lead right off the bat.

Just as he's about to cross the finish line, "So much for your pla—" the world suddenly tilts sideways. He can't finish his thought, barreled over by your weight crashing into him as you grab the controller right out of his hand.

You squeal victoriously, the sound rebooting his brain, and he realizes what just happened.

"Hey!" He tries to grab the controller, but you hold it up and away from him, big smile on your face as the screen announces Wally's demise. "Not fair!" He wraps his arms around you and flips you onto your back; presses his weight into you as he uses the advantage of his longer limbs to snatch the controller back.

Apparently not taking this lying down, you band your legs around his waist then surge up, somehow summoning the strength of five Wallys to roll him onto his back again. Stunned, he stares up at you as you wave the controller victoriously.

"You were saying?" You chuckle, smug as ever, slightly out of breath.

Oh, but Wally isn't done yet, miss ma'am. He snaps his hands up, clamping his fingers for the controller which you arch your back to hold away from him, crying out when he takes advantage of your off-balance position to knock you backward. Once more, he has you squirming beneath him.

He grabs one wrist and then the other, transferring both into the grip of one of his large hands while he plucks the controller from you with the other. That's about the moment he realizes, uh-oh, he can feel your breath on his lips. Your face is such a beautiful shade of pink, and your thighs are on either side of his hips. Wally's body is completely flush against yours. All of him. Every. Last little bit. of him.

Wally should move. Definitely. He should move right now; just get off you and pretend everything's normal and you're not gazing up at him like that and his lips aren't so fucking close to yours, and the air hasn't been sucked out of the room that no longer exists around you and him because there's only you and only him and fuck. Shit.

"Wally~?" You say, voice a whisper tinged with something that makes Wally's cock twitch. Heat, maybe. Or need. You swallow, the sound audible, and, oh fuck, Wally watches your eyes flicker to his mouth then back, like you're finally on the same page, like you want it, too.

His hand flexes around your wrists, body settling more firmly on yours, and he stares at your face as he rocks his hips, just once, experimental, just to see what you'll do. He knows you can feel him, stiff and hardening further, all his inches against the heat of your pussy through your thin as fuck yoga pants.

Your reaction almost explodes Wally's brain. That sweet little whimper, how your eyes glaze over and your lips part; how you mimic the action with one of your own, sending sparks of electricity through Wally's nervous system.

"Fuck," He chokes out, grip loosening around your wrists, but not letting go. He drops the controller. Instead uses that hand to brush his fingers across your cheek and down the slope of your jaw. His breath mingles with yours, the heat in him rises, his heart beating a frenzied tattoo in his chest. Is he really going to do this?

"Please," You say, so soft, so perfect, that, yes, Wally is absolutely going to do this.

He gently bumps the tip of his nose against yours, smiles in wonder that this is really about to happen, and then slowly, to give you a chance to turn away if you don't want this, he leans in, stopping only to tease, "One more time, princess." His voice low and husky.

He feels you tense and then release before whispering, "Please, Wally..."

That's all he needs to lean in and kiss you for the first time, his lips capturing yours with years of hunger and desire and fucking love. So much love it threatens to go nuclear if Wally doesn't share the burden right this minute.

He moans, grinds his hips against yours, his cock throbbing against you, God, he needs you so badly. Has needed you so badly since he first discovered how his dick works and probably even before then. He lets his hand roam down down down, then up under your tank top, fingers caressing the soft shape of your breast.

You keen and arch into the touch, and, holy shit, he can't do this slow. Next time—please Jesus, let there be a next time—he'll do this right. He'll do candles and rose petals and Barry Manilow, but right now, he has to know what it feels like when you come around his cock.

His kisses turn urgent, his movements more hungry, and you match his crazy like a mirror. His shirt first, thrown behind the TV, then yours, tossed somewhere near the coffee table. Wally takes a second to admire your bare chest, licks his lips, and then descends, starving for a taste. He sucks your nipple, twirls his tongue around it, moaning as if it's the best thing he's ever had in his mouth.

Which, as soon as he peels your yoga pants off and resituates himself between your spread-wide thighs, he knows isn't true. This is the best thing he's ever had on his tongue. He spears it in and out of you, moaning and panting as he kisses your pussy deeply, brings one, two fingers into the mix; pumping into you over and over until you shake and beg and arch so fucking pretty for him.

"Fuck, baby, I need to feel you come," He groans, shoving his sweatpants and boxers off and throwing them somewhere to find later.

You agree enthusiastically, reaching for him as you hook one leg over his hip, the other over his shoulder—Goddamn, were you always this bendy!?—and cry out like a heavenly chorus when he drives his cock into you. Fuck, God, his eyes roll back in his skull, it's the most incredible feeling, an indescribable euphoria flushing through him from scalp to soles.

"You feel so...big, Wally, oh my god," You gasp when he begins to move, and doesn't that just rub his ego the right way?

He genuinely can't even find the brain cells to reply, too busy losing himself to the sensation of being inside you, finally, so much more intense than any and every fantasy he's had of you and him entwined like this.

"Baby," He moans, hips pumping faster, fat tip hitting your sweet spot over and over and over until he feels you tighten around him, hears you gasp, and then moan in ecstasy.

He wishes he could last, that he could keep going until you come again, again, again, but he's waited so long for this and it's overwhelming, he can't do it. With one, two, three more quick thrusts, Wally tenses and then groans, grinding his release into you; leaning down to take your lips in a feverish kiss.

As you and he recover, he rests his forehead against yours, releases your wrists—oops—and cradles your face in one hand, his most precious girl a vision in the afterglow. You shift, your hands on his jaw, and you're looking at him like the sun, moon, and stars.

"How long?" You eventually ask.

Wally doesn't need you to clarify. He knows exactly what you mean.

"Grade 4."

He watches you absorb the information, nod, and then your eyes meet his when you make your own confession, "Grade 3. Ms. Houette's class. You made a joke about seagulls that was so lame it was funny."

Wally about short-circuits. He begs your finest pardon, but what was that? "Grade...3?"

"Grade 3."

"...are you saying that I could've been loving on you—" He emphasizes with a roll of his hips, winces from oversensitivity, "—since before I even understood what that meant?"

"I'm saying I've had a big, stupid crush on you since Grade 3." You say, innocent and solemn, "You take that however you want."

Wally chooses to forego the existential crisis and simply enjoy that he has you under him. There's a lot of time to make up for and a lot of fantasies Wally wants to bring to life, which you and he do with gusto until your parents get home and call down a hello.

Later, after redressing in a tornado and greeting your parents face-to-face; after stammered updates and weak conversation; after retreating to the basement to watch a movie and cuddle—Lord, you feel so good in Wally's arms, he never wants to let you go.

After all that, during a lull in the movie, you finally ask, "So, are you going to tell me how you knew what happened with Jake before I told you?" And you prop your chin on his chest, looking up at him with amusement.

Wally gulps, facing the screen as he desperately tries to come up with a feasible answer. Nothing comes to mind, though, so he's stuck offering:

"Uuuh...?"

You sit back, on your knees between his legs, and raise a brow, "I know Simon was there. You can tell him that Groucho glasses do not a disguise make."

Sheepish, "He's a good bro...?"

"A very good bro," You agree primly, "A bro who stalks one of his best friend's other best friend because...?"

Now Wally knows he has to tell you. He sits up himself, hands finding your waist, eyes earnest and sweet as he admits, "I wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn't know anything about Jake and you never let me vet any of the guys you go out with—"

"Yes. All three of them." You say flatly, rolling your eyes.

"One, three, five, doesn't matter, baby, I always wanted to make sure they were good enough for you..."

"So, did you make Simon follow me and Dan to the movie last year?" You wonder.

Wally glances away, guilt muddling his expression.

"...Did you follow me and Dan to the movie last year?"

"If I say no, will you believe me and let me cuddle you some more?"

Your jaw drops, eyes round, and for a second, Wally's sure he's about to get the boot. Not just from your house, but from the Best Friends Club altogether. He's already mourning the loss of your touch when you abruptly burst into laughter, crashing into him like you did before, only this time a lot gentler.

You nuzzle your face into his neck and then kiss his face all over, grinning down at him with the same beautiful smile you always give him.

"You're not mad?"

You shake your head, "I made Xavier come with me to that football game you took Melissa to last fall..."

Gobsmacked, Wally blurts, "You hate sports," since it's entirely relevant to how you stalked him as much as he stalked you on dates neither of you wanted the other to be on.

"I don't hate sports. I like sports. I hate all the pauses and the time outs and the—"

Wally cuts you off with a kiss, at first just a stamp of lips to lips but slowly melting into something softer, deeper, more heated.

Wally pulls back a fraction to say, "I love you, babygirl," looking deep into your eyes. One hand on your hip, the other in your hair, releasing a long, shaky breath as he waits for you to say something.

Finally, a smile spreads across your face and you kiss him again, short and sweet and meaningful.

"I love you, too, Wally Clark." Then, completely off-topic and far less romantic: "Do you wanna come with me when I stalk Simon's date for Maddie?"

Tires screech as Wally's brain comes to a full stop. Sorry, what was that? "Wait, Mads wants you to follow Simon?"

"Oh yeah, she's liked him for ages, but he never seems interested so...you know...she doesn't wanna risk the friendship."

"Jesus Christ." Wally looks at you, totally serious when he sighs with the exasperation of an ignored parent, "You know, I've told him, like, a thousand times to just talk to her." A helpless shrug, "He never listens."

‗•‗

Several days later, when you aren't looking, Wally steals the jacket you stole from Jake. Does terrible things to it before throwing it in Jake's face the following day.

Wally replaces the jacket with his letterman and has never been prouder of himself when he sees you slip it on without question.

☄️___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

Order Up! MASTERLIST

if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Marshmallow Miles.

a cutie-smut-lite oneshot wherein Wally wants to celebrate your birthday away from Split River. Because he can.

Barbatos is super cool and elegant but I bet everyone I own that he is the freakiest in bed, the freak of the group wit the sex drive over the moon

Oh, I can totally see that. I think he would be adaptable to whatever his partner wanted. Given the right circumstances, I imagine what he's willing to do to them (and allow them to do to him) can be a little extreme.

There’s different versions of Barbatos that live in my brain, and I love them all.

[Barbatos x gn!Reader, 1.4k words, nsfw. Content warnings: sexual situations including one dub-con scenario at the end.]

I like super soft and sweet Barbatos...

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” you protested gently, even as you sighed and melted against the gentle hands rinsing rose-scented suds off your back.

He shushed you and dipped the washcloth back into the bubbly bath water. “We don’t have many moments like this together. Allow me this chance to be selfish with you, my dear.” He brushed a kiss against your shoulder, and his lips ticked into a gentle smile when you shuddered.

“As long as I’m not taking you away from your other work,” you said softly as you looked at him over your shoulder.

He trailed his wet fingers across your chest and up the delicate skin of your throat. He cradled your jaw and his eyes flicked down to your lips. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” he promised before he leaned forward and kissed you. He groaned quietly when your lips slotted against his, and when you pulled away to catch your breath, he licked his lips thoughtfully.

“Want to join me, then?” you asked breathlessly.

He soaked in the sight of your bright eyes and glistening skin, and his eyes trailed down your naked chest. He shook his head and stood up beside the tub. “I have a better idea,” he murmured as he offered you his hand. He helped you from the bath and he reached for the fluffy towel nearby.

You bit your lip when he knelt in front of you and patted your thighs dry with the towel. “You don’t have to do this either,” you said, voice shaky as desire washed over you, but you tangled in his hair when he shuffled closer to you.

He leaned forward and inhaled your natural scent laced with rose, and he sighed with something like contentment as he pressed a kiss to your belly.

“I've wanted to do this all day,” he whispered as he nudged your thighs apart and settled between them. He leaned forward and teased your arousal with his tongue, and when your legs started to shake, he curled his hands around your hips to steady you.

...and I like desperate and dirty Barbatos...

"Wait, what if–oh, fuck–what if someone hears us?"

You were bent over a side table in an empty lounge not far from the ballroom where tonight's festivities were being held. When Barbatos appeared and quietly asked for a moment of your time, you thought he wanted to chat, or perhaps steal a kiss in private. You didn't expect him to pull you into an empty room and tug at your dress clothes. He maneuvered you against the tabletop and moved your underwear aside so he could stretch you open with his slick, greedy fingers.

He hummed in agreement. "You're right, my love. You're far too noisy," he chided you as he slipped in a third finger and stroked over the soft, spongy spot buried deep inside you. He smirked when you bit your lip to silence the surprised moan that tumbled from your lips.

"I can't–please–" your cheek was squished against the cool wooden table, and you panted even as his wicked fingers sent jolts of pleasure shooting through you.

Something cool and wet flicked against the corner of your mouth, and you opened your lips obediently as one of the forks of his tail prodded for entrance. You moaned around the tip and sucked. He squeezed your hip approvingly and you felt lightheaded from his silent praise.

"Perhaps keeping your mouth full will help, hm?" He pulled his fingers from your body and swatted the swell of your ass when you whined pathetically around the appendage dancing along your tongue. He repositioned behind you and flicked open his fly so he could pull out his cock.

You closed your eyes as the soft, buttery leather gloves he wore spread your thighs wider for him. Heat bloomed in your cheeks when he stood there, silent and unmoving, and you knew he was staring at you.

He watched your greedy hole flutter around the blunt head of his cock, and he rubbed across your entrance without slipping inside. His self-control started to fray at the seams when you wiggled your hips invitingly and brushed back against him. You bit the tip of his tail, too–not hard, but with enough pressure to get his attention–and he groaned.

You cheeky little thing.

He snarled and pulled your hips back onto his cock as he bullied inside you with one rough stroke. He leaned over your back and growled in his chest, low and deep, and he started to thrust as his tail muffled your cries.

...and I like creepy and morally bankrupt Barbatos, too. (I like him so much, I wrote a series about him.)

Barbatos waited patiently outside the guest chambers you were given for tonight's overnight stay at the castle. He wasn't sure how long the tea would take to work, and he was so eager to–

A confused moan from within your room caught his attention, and he tempered the eager smile that threatened to bloom across his face. He shuffled his feet so you would hear the sound of footsteps near your door, and he knocked twice before stepping inside hesitantly.

"I beg your pardon, but I heard a noise as I walked past." He noticed your confused expression, the beads of sweat that were dotting along your brow, and the way your hands clenched the sheets of your bed.

You shook your head and whimpered. "I don't–I don't know, I started feeling sick all of a sudden? I feel so hot, and–" your quivering voice trailed off into a moan and you winced with embarrassment.

He stepped closer to you and he could practically taste the pheromones your body was pumping into the air. He's glad he gave you this room, further away from the others, at the end of a long hallway where no one but him would have reason to pass.

He pulled off his gloves and slipped them into his pocket. You fixated on his bare hands and he felt primal satisfaction swell inside him when your eyes shone with unabashed lust.

"I'm here," he murmured with false sympathy as he cupped your cheek with his palm.

Compared to your burning-hot skin, his hands felt cool and dry and you nuzzled into the touch with a sigh. You were mindless except for the desire churning in your belly. When you rubbed your thighs together, you felt how wet your underwear was from the arousal leaking from you.

He stroked your face gently. "Do you want my help?" He could sense you were so close to giving in.

You peered up into his face, you dark and half-lidded eyes glistening with tears and pleading for his help. You choked as another cramp between your legs made you gasp, and you nodded your head instead.

Even in your compromised state, you felt a moment of relief. You trusted him. You rolled over and rubbed your hips pitifully against the sheets looking for some sort of friction. You knew he was watching, but you didn't care. Nothing else mattered except the sudden urge to be taken. The hot evidence of your arousal leaked freely between your legs and soaked the sheets underneath you.

He looked on curiously as you desperately attempted to soothe the fire raging inside you. He knew your efforts would fail; the sickness plaguing you won't be satisfied by your own hand or clumsy movements. Nothing can help you now, nothing except his cock buried deep inside you and marking you with his scent and seed.

He sat on the edge of the bed beside you and lowered his head. "Tell me what you want," he whispered into your ear.

You shuddered when his hot breath tickled the sensitive skin of your neck. "Need you, inside, I need it –please?" you babbled while you continued rocking uselessly against the mattress.

"As you wish," he murmured darkly. He couldn't hide the victorious smirk that curled his lips–the potion he stirred into your tea this evening worked better than he could've imagined.

He started unbuttoning his shirt and he teased you, slowly revealing inch after inch of pale skin to your burning gaze. When was finally naked, he lowered himself to the bed and rolled you onto your back. He was too impatient to be gentle, and he knew you were too. He tore your clothes to shreds until your heaving chest and soft belly and bare thighs were exposed to him. He roamed your skin greedily with his hands and his cock throbbed when you arched into his touch.

Another ripple of painful need tore through you, and you nearly sobbed from being so painfully empty. He hushed you as he covered your body with his own. You whimpered his name when he positioned himself between your trembling thighs, and the beast inside him howled as he crushed his lips to yours.

Taglist: @your-next-daydream, @mithrakira @l-d-8 @lemonivall @meggsngrits @catching-cloudzzz @flemmingbamse

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Izuku punishes you for talking poorly about yourself,,

as someone who’s dealt with insecurity and low self esteem for most of his life, he’d definitely take your words personally, regardless of how you meant it. His love feeling like that? On his watch??? His hero complex wouldn’t allow him to not try and handle it himself.

‘N the lesson doesn’t entail spankings or hitting, no....just orgasms

PLURAL

That man would overstim tf out of you no matter how much you apologize because “don’t apologize to me, say sorry to her” as he points to a mirror overlooking the two of you 🥺

he won’t fuck you cause only good girls get all of him, all you’ll get is tongue and fingers 🚶🏽‍♀️

Make you perch right off the edge of the bed so when your punishment comes, you can’t get away from it,, and spread ‘er open so he can get a nice look at his beautiful girl....and the poor, sweet little brat she’s attached to. Can’t get away or look away either and if you try you’ll just get put RIGHT back in place with a quick “ah-ah” and swift movement of his hands.

His doe-like green eyes look so,, dark and somber while he punishes you, like he feels your pain right along with you 😩 as he makes you look at him, you swear you can see little tears in his eyes as well; but it could just be the copious amount tears in YOUR eyes playing tricks on you as well 🚶🏽‍♀️

Tear tracks, both dry and wet rolling down your fat cheeks, curly hair a-mess, big ol’ tummy just moving from your quick little breaths, thighs trying to clench n close so bad but he’s so big between your legs it’s literally pointless—

belligerent babble mixed with sodden apologies and pleas,, you look like a masterpiece to him!

but it’s ok cause he’s gonna make you appreciate what HE sees, whether you want to or not 🚶🏽‍♀️

no amount of “Zu-Zu, please—!” or “g’nna cream” “crEAMING—!!” “p-please, can’t take it—!” will change his mind; just your swollen, fat little cunt creaming and creaming in his mouth n’ frothing around his big, calloused fingers...

“ ‘o mean to my pretty girl” he whispers tenderly, almost pouting at you as he whines about how cruel you are; “‘s the matter, huh? ’m not treating my baby enough?” how could you be so callous to this body that he worships on an altar? Has he not shown you enough love? What else can he do to get you to see what he sees?

cause of course he thinks it’s his fault,, his responsibility 😩

He’s tried words of affirmation for the longest yet here he is, still trying to teach you to love yourself... guess he’s just gonna have to fuck you stupid 🤷🏽‍♀️ can’t insult yourself if you can’t think at all, right?

Todo and Itadori too 🥺 cept he’s a bit meaner and will edge you from time to time, Yuji may even let Sukuna teach you a lesson or 2...cause you dare to insult the king’s taste?? You say he can “do better”??? You think you know better than the King of Curses???

well you’re right...his second/true form can make you cream and cry harder than Itadori ever could 🤷🏽‍♀️

and he knows it

i stumbled into another dimension while reading this

promise (raphael/gender neutral!reader, tmnt)

as with a lot of the stuff i’ve been posting recently, part of this has been sitting in my drafts for ages and i’m thrilled to finally get it done! first time writing for any of the boys and of course i had to go with my favorite. hope you guys enjoy! and feel free to send prompts my way, i’d love to write more for this fandom!

You wonder what time it is.

It was well past midnight the last time you looked at your cell. You’re almost afraid to look again, tempted though you are. You’ve done just about everything you could think of to distract yourself - thumbed through one of your favorite books, played a video game, messed around on your phone. Nothing worked. 

You blow out a breath as you tilt your head back, staring in frustrated silence at the dark ceiling. You’ve got a late night news report running on the television, just in case you could glean anything off of it about the boys’ condition, but it’s doing little to calm the increasingly panicked thoughts running through your head.

They’re fine, you tell yourself. Stop worrying.

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i don't know why but i've had this thought stuck in my head for the past few days... perv!eddie and innocent!reader (established relationship) where he teaches her how to touch herself 😵😵 just imagine them sitting on eddie's bed, him behind reader forcing her legs apart with his thighs and just showing her how good it feels when she touch her little clit 😵😵 while telling her he loves the little sounds she makes,, im obsessed

omg sorry i took so long to get back to you!! cw: smut, 18+ONLY MDNI, eddie teaching reader, perv!eddie, kinda innocent!reader

he’s behind you, legs hooked under yours to keep your thighs spread and his lips by your ear.

eddie’s been trying to teach you how to make yourself come for at least thirty minutes but you lose focus fast the second he angles your wrist and you hit that spot.

“cmon baby, you wanna be good for me don’t you?” his words make your bleary eyes open and your head tip back.

“y-yeah.” you mumble, body malleable as eddie rearranges you.

“touch your clit for me then.” he tries to stop himself, really, he does, but his hips buck into your ass when your moans go breathy and high.

“just like that sweet girl,” eddie’s praises fall easily, his eyes trained to your body’s every reaction. “go faster baby.”

your stomach tightens as you follow his instructions and eddie chuckles when your thighs start shaking.

“you sound so pretty for me, angel.” eddie attaches his lips to your jaw when your hips start bucking up to meet your fingers.

“eddie,” you whine, so close but not having just enough to get there. “need your help.” you whimper when he only hums.

“want me to finger fuck you?” he coos and you nod, tears in your eyes as he slides his hand down between your thighs and slips two fingers into your sopping cunt.

eddie can’t get a word out before you’re coming around his fingers. “atta girl.” he coos softly, watching with pride as you come down and your hand falls limp at your side.

HEDAKYLO ➣ MASTERLIST

Under the cut you will find a masterlist of all my work! It has been alphabetized & organized accordingly. I really hope this helps you all out & makes navigation easier on mobile!

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walk me home (tmnt x gender neutral!reader)

haven’t written for the guys in a while and i’m a sucker for hurt/comfort, so here’s the result!

also, this one’s a little hard to tag because you can honestly interpret it however you wish - purely platonic, implications of romance with your favorite turtle, poly!turtles, whatever. enjoy!

You’re kidnapped by the Foot Clan on a sunny Saturday afternoon. 

Snatched off the street, stuffed in an unmarked van and blindfolded, you quickly lose track of where they’re taking you, and your only attempt to glean some information is swiftly discouraged by a fist to your jaw. 

You lose track of time from there, the only information available to you restricted to what you can hear, smell, and feel: the astringent scent of chemicals, the voices of your captors barking orders at each other, the cold concrete of the holding cell you’re tossed into and the scratch of the rope binding your wrists.

Your jaw hurts, the chill of your makeshift cell sinks into your bones and leaves you shivering, but you’re not afraid. Not really. You know the boys will come for you. 

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Ellie hear me out…

Chrissy joining the yandere fruity four to make it the fruity five

*drops mic and walks off*

/GRABS UR MIC AND THROWS IT, KNOCKING U OUT. GET BACK HERE.

Chrissy would be such an addition to the fruity four. Feeling indebted to Eddie for saving her life from Vecna, she follows him around like a puppy trying to offer her help whenever he takes it, even though he seriously just wants her to stay safe. But then the danger passes over Hawkins (for now) and Chrissy catches wind of the strange absence of Eddie and his newfound friends from their normal schedules. He makes it to Hellfire weekly, and she usually sees him around his general hangouts, but he often is accompanied by one or a few of his friends--plus one that she's not so familiar with. You.

To say she's infatuated is an understatement. It's not clear why or how she falls so hard so fast, but she does, and thus she starts sticking her nose into yours and the fruity four's business. She can see how weird Eddie gets when she asks him questions, so she tries to get you alone--but you're never alone, you've always got Nancy or Robin or the boys on your arm or at your side. And that Steve Harrington is always staring her down, he catches her every time she's looking at you and she usually ends up shrinking back at how intense his gaze is. And if it's not just him, then Nancy's sharp eyes or Robin's soft ones lock with hers and don't look away until she buckles.

It's quite the difficult task to get her fill of you when you're always being protected, but eventually she'll find her way to your house and climb in through your bedroom window, hoping to at least find something she can take as a souvenir. But when she gets there, you're nowhere to be found--and waiting for her instead is Steve, perched on the edge of your bed with his arms folded like he's been waiting for her to show up. He's definitely a hardass to her, thinking she's got some kind of ulterior motive or she's an agent for Vecna or something, until Eddie comes crashing through the window after her to intervene. Babbles on about how Chrissy's a good girl and makes a case for her, and lucky he does, because Steve when he's jealous comes off like he's prepared to kill her just to keep her quiet.

Thankfully it doesn't come to that. Eddie's happy to introduce her to you, let you get to know each other a bit with supervision, until he and the others and you can gauge how you all feel about Chrissy. And seeing you two giggle and get along makes at least some of them smile, while others (Steve and Robin) feel pangs of jealousy. They'll learn to get along, though--especially when they find out how manipulative Chrissy can be to lower the suspicion about them and keep people away from you, plus how good of a liar she's learned to be. Whether that's to sway the outsiders into thinking nothing of your "friendship", or helping the four keep some truths from you that such a pretty little thing doesn't need to worry about.