#...after a while he did get increasingly concerned

[hartxstarr-art]

i like to think that before Wild Horses, the last time spike saw doohan was three years ago.

[aliusfrater]

Would love to hear about your thoughts regarding It’s a Terrible Life because it tends to be one of the most. Disputed episodes. I know it’s often understood as indicative of Sam and Dean’s true natures (which is how you get one million posts about Sam wanting a normal life in theory but would never have been able to live like that while Dean actually desires normalcy and domesticity) but I feel this ignores the context of the episode. The episode is a little horrific because of how Zachariah fucks with Sam and Dean’s minds and implants false memories and lives but I’d say the way they both approach this is telling; with Dean assimilating into and acting accordingly to his given role and Sam trying to understand and analyse a world around him that doesn’t quite make sense. He doesn’t want to hunt because of some innate desire or just the thrill of it but because hunting means something else in the context of this world than it does to Sam normally.

no yeah i've spoken about exactly this before from this perspective of deconstructing the shallow and, quite frankly, (unintentionally but what usually tends to be a purposefully) omissive fanon-popular interpretation of what seems to be the audience's uncritical adoption of zachariah's narrative in regards to his fallacious establishment of hunting as sam and dean's true selves/destinies largely because it suits existing fanon ideals as it relates to 1) the fallacious attributions of sam's monstrosity through the dichotomy of monstrosity and towards some kind of unknowable and inevitable evil mainly as it relates to how much more tightly people apply the Rules Of Hunting to sam when it comes to his role as Sammy proxy dean, because it's what dean does as well (ie. sam as the protected but agent innocent—the standard of an inherent innocence to be maintained magnifies the effect of his involvement in the Dirty Work of hunting. there becomes a higher standard regarding sam's hunting mortality in comparison to dean, as the righteous protector), and how that factors into the compartmentalisation of sam's identity into monstrosity. as in, along with existing misinterpretions of sam's season four arc, it's further applied in a sense that indicates a belief that sam finding agency within hunting as indicative of his monstrosity. and 2) the ideas that dean secretly doesn't actually want to hunt and that sam keeps him tethered to hunting.

obviously, within the actual context of the episode that i spoke about in the linked post of zachariah specifically recreating an environment around their existing Roles that will facilitate their existing agencies towards a desired outcome, his perspective as a third party character observing sam and dean—which tends to be some kind of badge of honour to this audience in regards to uncritically adopting their perspectives rather than understanding them as story devies and applying them within an analysis of the circumstances accordingly—becomes one that is explicitly manipulative. in terms of looking at the circumstances wrt analysing the mechanics of sam and dean's characterisations, on behalf of wider season's conflict regarding the framing of the apocalypse and (later revealed) sam and dean's roles as lucifer and michael's vessels, respectively, as the True, fated outcome that hunting had been grooming them towards but that they ultimately thwart, zachariah's fallacious and later thwarted simulation of the company -> hunting, the structure of the company within which sam wesson and dean smith work and have next to no life beyond becomes mirrored with their isolated upbringing within hunting, which i think is exacerbated within the context of season four's repeated references to sam and dean's childhoods within the john-dean-sam dynamic from sam and dean's point of views and sam's specific agencies as Othered within both contexts. sam wesson literally has visions and dean is sam's boss but they're both ultimately working under someone else. this show isn't subtle about The Roles lmfao. anyway, the point is that i think the exploration of their characters in regards to the larger season four arc as well as its explorations of their base motivations builds off of that as the foundational thematic context of the episode. like you said, hunting is hunting, but within the context what it means regarding their circumstances and sam's push towards it as well as dean's adoption of sam's agency, it means something else—it means something similar to sam's season one diversions from his familial role and his critique of the familial dynamic and hunting in general and dean's adoptions of aspects of that even as sam regresses into assimilating his familial role as his character encounters outside influences regarding his arc centred around his monstrosity throughout the season; it mean something about sam and dean's core agencies, its push and pull relationships, who, and what's at its centres.

i've said exactly this when discussing literal esaays published about supernatural with you before but it remains mind boggling to me, the idea of people seemingly loosing their ability to place themselves within the context of the perspective of the world we're given and how to mirror it with real life allegories as soon as it's time to analyse supernatural. suddenly dean is an intentionally subversive character because he subverts the life the author is writing about him from within or hunting is necessary and righteous, because it's what they would prefer to believe in order to preserve the structures these interpretations pillow that they also simultaneously are adamant they're exploring over analysing the actual fictional world, its perspective, and the watsonian recreations of certain structures that's presented to us through supernatural as a story. it's fandom discourse yeah but it also makes me feel like that scene from akira whenever i recognise the legitimate beliefs that tend to be the culprit for facilitating these kinds of willful interpretations of canon.

[sugoroo]

ʚɞ warnings: fem!reader, obsessive behaviour, pervy geto, stalking, penetration (p in v), doggystyle, fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, hints of yandere, 18+ minors dni.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who notices you the moment you first attend one of his classes, immediately singling you out among the small group of his regulars laying down their mats.

he's never seen someone so young and pretty in his studio before — most of his customers were married middle-aged women old enough to be his mother. but not you.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who takes a very keen interest in you from that very first session, his sharp gaze never leaving you for long each time you come in. to his dismay, however, you always take the spot right at the back of the room, meaning he has to crane his neck around all of the gossiping older ladies to get a good look at you. hmm, that won't do.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who keeps you behind one day after a class, subtly suggesting that you move closer to the front so he can 'get a clearer look' at your progress. and if you catch on to the real reason he wants you closer, you don't say anything; so he assumes you bought the excuse. perfect.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who, once you begin working right at the front, gets more and more handsy as time goes on. what began as just a light brush of his fingers to improve your positioning turns into him fully grasping your hips to manoeuvre your body the way he wants.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who isn't oblivious to the jealous looks cast in your direction from the other women when he does this. he just pays them no mind; he's not interested in them, after all. only you.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who finds himself becoming increasingly obsessed with you after each session, talking yoga instructor!gojo's ear off about how pretty you are and how utterly delicious the arch of your back is when he gets everyone to do the downward dog stretch.

his friend laughs but reminds him that it's strictly against the rules of the yoga studio to get involved with a customer (as if he cares about such trivial things like that.)

pervy yoga instructor!geto who starts insisting on you staying behind after every single class, claiming it would be good for you to have some one-on-one sessions with him to hone your skills. when you don't protest, he thinks you must either be completely clueless or into him just as much as he is you. he really hopes it's the latter.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who uses these private classes to get you to do various risqué positions for him that definitely aren't real yoga stretches. but what you don't know can't hurt you, right?

pervy yoga instructor!geto whose mood becomes sour once you stop attending his sessions. had he gone too far? did you think he was a creep? he didn't even care if you filed a report about him for his behaviour at this point — as long as it meant he got to see you at the subsequent meeting.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who only lasts a few weeks before he's rifling through the customer files in his office, yanking out your folder and scanning the page.

once he finds your address, he's in his car and on the way there, breaking every speed limit on the way. and before he even knows it, he's outside your house, peeking in through the window.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who spots you curled up on your couch, crying softly in front of the television while spooning ice cream into your pretty mouth. and suddenly, all his previous anger is replaced with concern. he hasn't even formed an excuse to explain why he's here before he's knocking on the door.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who hurriedly tells you that "it's company policy to check on customers who haven't attended sessions for a certain amount of time", mentally patting himself on the back when you seem to buy it and let him into your apartment.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who listens intently as you spill all the details about your cheating asshole of a boyfriend. so that's why you've been absent. but don't worry — he can make you forget all about that worthless scum. after all, he didn't deserve you anyway!

suguru could treat you so much better. and he will, if you let him.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who kisses your tears away, hushing you softly and whispering in your ear about how beautiful you are and how he's had his eye on you since you first entered his studio. (he leaves out the part where he's fucked his fist to the thought of you in those tight little yoga pants countless times. he doesn't want to scare you off!)

pervy yoga instructor!geto who starts by running his hands over your perfect body he's been imagining touching just like this for so long, burying his head between your soft thighs and eating you out like it's his last meal until you're all nice and gushy.

he only stops when your tears of sadness turn into those of pleasure, until you're practically begging him to fuck you.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who starts by fucking you nice and slow on your couch in missionary, praising you over and over in that silken purr of his like you deserve. but soon enough he's flipping your body around, putting you in the yoga position that you always do the best for him; downward dog, ruthlessly rutting his fat cock into you from behind like an animal.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who has to use all of his willpower to make sure you cum on his cock first before he lets go himself, despite the fact he could've busted a nut the second he eased into your warm, tight little pussy.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who watches in silent satisfaction as his goopy cum oozes out of your abused cunt, quickly fingering it right back inside to make sure not a single drop goes to waste. "it's all for you, sweet baby." he murmurs, voice raspy and deep.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who effortlessly carries your exhausted body to your bedroom bridal style, cooing in your ear the entire way about how you're his now, and he's going to take such good care of you, his favourite girl.

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

NEXT PART -> pervy lifeguard!gojo

[pearlymel]

Frail state of mind

Sum. What happens when you give caleb aphrodisiac candy instead of normal ones on his birthday? Find out in the next episode...

Warnings. fem reader, mdni, use of aphrodisiacs, unprotected, 2.2k words. Also, happy one year to me writing on this account whaaat. Ily.

Caleb feels weird.

Or to be exact, his body feels weird, like he's on fire. Oh no, did he develop a fever? Right when you both were going to celebrate his birthday?

His breathing becomes slightly heavier as he looks around, from the ceiling, to the candy drops, to you, then back to the candy drops.

“how did you like the candy? Sour?”

His eyes narrow, and he presses his lips together repeatedly to catch the after taste of the candy.

It was sour, with a slight sweet aftertaste.

He felt like he couldn't even focus properly with how fast his heart was beating. You definitely noticed the way his cheeks have turned from their usual pale shade into a dusty light pink.

For a long, long moment he just stared at you, dumbfounded and unable to do anything else.

"Yeah, right," he finally said, his voice a bit higher than usual. "Is this your idea of a prank?”

So he did caught on, although slower than he usually would.

“Happy birthday?” you smile innocently.

I'm gonna die, is what goes through his head.

"Yeah, some birthday it is," he muttered, letting out a stifled breath as the heat began to pool in his lower abdomen. "And the side effects?"

He was trying his best to keep a cool head, but it was getting increasingly difficult when all he wanted to do was to grab you by the arm and force you to kneel in front of him and—

"Whaaaat?" you purposely avoid his eyes while slowly taking your seat next to him, "what side affects? They're just normal candies, do you not like them?"

Caleb grumbled under his breath, shifting on the couch in an attempt to relieve the growing ache in his pants. You didn't need to be that close to him

With his cheeks flushed and his dark eyes glued to you, he clenched his fist and tried his best to keep his thoughts in check. "You don't understand," he muttered, his voice dropping a bit lower. "It's not regular candy, I can.." Feel something.

You raise an eyebrow, then your eyes catch the real problem, the obvious erection which looked almost painful.

“you think i gave you some sort of aphrodisiac?” you gasp dramatically, but really, you're trying not to laugh. The effects worked almost instantly. “baby, i would never. On your birthday? No way…”

"Uh-huh," he hummed with an arched eyebrow, now having a hard time focusing on something other than you. He was getting hotter and hotter, and you were still so close to him. So close, within reach.

He tried to subtly move back, but the way his shirt was sticking to his skin only made him more irritated. "Then why does it feel like I'm on fire, huh?”

You place your hand on his knee, “maybe i look too hot for you?”

"You're not wrong," he replied between gritted teeth, biting back a moan when you put a hand on his knee.

"...." you stare at him closely, you're not exactly sure how long the side effects were supposed to last. But you were a bit... Worried.

"are you okay?" you finally break the teasing act to feel his neck using the back of your hand, and Caleb groans at the touch, his body automatically leaning into your hand to seek more of the cool comfort it provided.

With a shaky sigh, he managed a soft, "Yeah... 'm alright."

Truth was, he was far from alright. His skin felt like it was on fire, and every little contact sent a jolt of electric heat straight into his cock. He was straining to keep up his self-control, but it was getting harder by the second.

“something else doesn't look alright..” you voice your concern quietly when you eye the erection he's been sporting for a while..

He spreads his legs slightly wider before his gaze follows yours, and he could feel his face turn even hotter as he realized what you were looking at.

He hastily tried to adjust his pants to hide the obvious tent that had formed, but there was no use. (it's not like he wants to hide it. He wants to show you how much he wants you by teasing you more if he could.)

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he tried to find his voice. "It's... it's nothing," he lied weakly.

You shook your head, thinking to get him some water without feeling too flustered about the situation, “that won't do, I'll get you some water.”

Water…?

Caleb fidgeted with the hem of his dress shirt, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping the fabric. "No. I just… need you, please..." he murmured, the word turning into a pleading whine.

"oh," you blink twice, feeling almost stupid that you were actually supposed to help.

He practically whimpered as you just stood there, and he couldn't take it anymore, it was too much.

He reached out and grabbed your hand, pulling you closer until you were sitting in his lap. He then wrapped an arm around your waist, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek.

"Please," he repeated, his voice shaky and desperate. "Touch me. Anywhere. Just... please.”

"easy, big guy." you grin, moving the strands away from his forehead to kiss the empty spot.

Caleb groaned as your lips touched his skin, your lips moves from his forehead, to his nose, then his cheeks.

He tilted his head back, a needy sound escaping his throat as you continued to pepper his face with kisses. He was desperate for more, his body arching upwards in an attempt to get closer to you, while his hands ran over your body, skimming over your dress, desperate for skin-on-skin contact.

Caleb feels his mind going blank when you dart your tongue out to wet his dry lips before taking his mouth into yours messily.

His every thought focused solely on you and the way your body was moving against his. The friction was both a relief and a tease, causing him to moan again, the sound muffled by your mouth on his.

You pull away first, “be a good boy for me, yeah?” you whisper before pressing another peck to his lips.

If caleb wasn't fully hard earlier, then he is now.

You tugged at his belt, taking it off to help him slide his pants off, along with his almost ruined (Calvin Klein) boxers.

Caleb immediately moans shamelessly with his head falling back the minute your thumb rubbed over the sensitive dark red head of his cock. The slow, sensual rubs makes his whole body shiver, and his hips jerks upwards involuntarily.

“a-ah, fuck,” the words slip out in an almost whiny tone, he could almost, almost cum like this. But he wouldn't, not until you cum first, because that would be selfish of him, no?

Plus he liked seeing you come undone first anyway.

Lost in the distraction of teasing him, you don't even notice his shaky hands parting your thighs, it's only when you suddenly feel fingers skimming over your inner thighs until they found the damp fabrics of your panties, is when you shudder in place.

Without any warning, he rubbed two fingers over your clothed clit, his touch firm yet slow, just like how you've been touching him.

“Caleb,” you try closing your thighs together, but to no avail, as his free hand is keeping one of your thighs firmly in place. his eyes are focused down while his thumb hikes up your dress further to reveal his fingers that's been teasing you.

He rubbed over your clothed slit again, “looks like someone is excit—” Caleb's words were cut off by a gasp when your thumb circled around the weeping tip of his cock, smearing the bead of precum around the swollen head.

You could feel your heart beat right in your ears, the touches is not enough, you need him. As much as he needs you.

You finally pull his wrist away, and at first he's confused, but his eyes widen when you slip your panties off, and biting the hem of your dress to reveal more of your pussy and stomach.

Caleb could faint at the absolute goddess in front of him (you), he should be shot right om the spot for even trying something like this with y—

“honey, hurry, I'll make you feel allll better.”

He done. He can already imagine the wedding bells, house, and kids.

Caleb presses the swollen tip of his cock against your slick entrance. His lips are parted shakily as he rubs it along your slit, coating himself in your arousal, marking his cock with your scent.

When he reached the top of your slit, he circled your clit with the tip, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves until you were a squirming mess in his lap.

“y-you—! fuck, feels good—” you pant, your eyes almost half lidded as his hips roll to bump against your clit with each rotation.

While keeping his eyes locked on your face, he slowly pushed forward, sinking his thick cock into your tight, dripping cunt.

"Ohh, fuck yeah..." Caleb moaned long and low as he felt your walls stretch around him, inch by inch, he slid deeper, until he was buried to the hilt.

Caleb's grip tightened on your hips, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh hard as he matched your rhythm, slamming up into you that sent your back arching into him, his free hands are clutching your dress to keep him in check, also sliding up to give your breasts gentle squeezes.

The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your shared moans and panting breaths.

"Shit, baby, you feel... ungh... fucking incredible," he grunted, his hips snapping up to meet each downward bounce of your hips, and he could feel your walls fluttering and clenching around him, sucking him in deeper.

"Wanna... want you to come on my cock, pips," Caleb demanded, his voice a desperate, needy whine. His thumb found your clit, rubbing hard and fast circles over the sensitive nub. The other hand slid around to grip the globes of your ass, squeezing and kneading the firm flesh.

Caleb’s head falls back when he feels your cunt clamp down around him like a vice, squeezing and milking his throbbing cock. "j-just like that, honey," he whispered, his eyes rolling back from the feeling of you coming undone around him.

With a final thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside your spasming cunt, and then he was coming, coming harder than he ever had in his life.

"you’re gonna take it all, yeah, pips? k-keep it in there for Caleb, shit—" Caleb snarled, his hips jerking and stuttering as he emptied himself inside you. His balls pulsed and throbbed as they pumped out spurt after spurt of his spent, filling you to the brim until it leaked out around his pistoning cock.

caleb’s head falls back on your chest as he takes big breaths, his thumbs rubbing circles on your sides. and your arms encircles around his shoulders as you rest your face on top of his head.

“… happy birthday, hope you enjoyed your lil gift… heh,”

“i’m giving the candies to gideon.”

[tbaluver]

HELLLOOOOOOO

I just read a book where the mcs husband freaks out over her water breaking and I was wondering, how would the lads acc react???? It’s ok if you dont want to write about it but i just wanna say that i REALLLLLYYYYY love the work you’re doing!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

"My Water Broke!"- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader, Caleb x Reader summary: how they react when your water breaks and what they would do after a/n: HIHI again my angel !! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ PLS you're always so sweet omg thank you so much MWAH MWAH currently kicking my feet reading that, thank you for reading my works ♡(˃͈ ˂͈ ) i hope i did this justice and i hope this was alright ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ enjoy reading ! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

The snack in your hand falls to the ground, your appetite disappears when a sharp ache shoots through your lower abdomen. You gasp, clutching your stomach as water drops down your legs. Your eyes meet Xavier’s, your face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and pain.

It took Xavier a moment to fully process the situation, panic quickly replacing his usual calm demeanor. He rushes beside you, his voice frantic as he asks a flurry of questions. “Are you okay? How much does it hurt? Can you stand? Can you walk?”

He helps you step carefully out of the small puddle that formed at your feet, his hand gently on your back and your arm as he tries to steady you. “It’s alright, I’m here. I’m here. ” He murmurs, hoping it would reassure you in some way.

He tries to remain as calm as he can but panic is surging through his body that he fails to hide it. He hates to see you in so much pain and the urgency to get you to the hospital only makes his worries worse. He quickly helps you to the transport to the hospital, his hand on you the entire time.

He thought maybe it would be best to teleport you there instantly but with you being so far along in your pregnancy, he isn’t sure how safe that would be. The last thing he wants is to take any chances with you or the baby.

When you both arrived at the hospital, Xavier remained beside you at all times until the pain started getting worse. He asked nurses, doctors, anyone who could help you for anything, anything at all, that might bring you some type of temporary relief to take the relentless pain away from you. His voice raised slightly as he spoke to anyone in the hospital, growing increasingly impatient when no one came in to help you even if it was just a minute.

When the nurses finally arrived a minute late, the tension in his head seemed to ease just a tad bit. “Is there anything else I can get/ do for you?” His hand found yours immediately, rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand. “I think our little prince is eager to come home.”

Zayne:

One thing about Zayne is that he’s always prepared. Always.

The second your water breaks, panic doesn’t register on his face, mostly concern. He stays calm as he gently places a hand on your back, guiding each step to the car. He reassures you the entire way there, urging you to take deep breaths with him as best as you can. The labor bag that had been waiting by the front door months in advance, was already slung over his shoulder, just like he planned. Not a minute to waste.

As soon as he starts the car, his hand finds yours immediately, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand. He keeps his focus on the road but his attention never shifts away from you. 

While he effortlessly drives through the streets, he calls his parents to let them know that you’re both on your way. He listens to their excited congratulations on the other end and he can’t help but crack a smile knowing that you both will meet your little angel soon. The call ends after they mention that they will meet you both there soon.

The drive there felt like an eternity but Zayne remains calm, reminding you to breathe deeply, guiding you through each contraction with the same techniques he’s practiced with you countless times. “Deep breath in..now breathe out. That’s it, you’re doing well. We’re almost there.”

As soon as you pull into the hospital, the nurses are ready to escort you to your private labor room and tend to your needs the moment they see Zayne enter the building. The nurses are aware of his status in the hospital and the last thing they want to do is make a misstep to the chief’s surgeon’s wife during such a crucial time. 

“She might need an epidural or an IV pain relief if her contractions intensify” The nurses squeak, rethinking if they’re even doing their job right in front of such a high-ranking and respected figure in the hospital.

Zayne gives a brief nod. “I’ll notify you if she does,” He responds, before giving his full attention back to you. His hand immediately finds yours again, gently brushing a few stray strands of hair from your face. “How are you feeling now, my love? Is there anything I can do for you?”

He listens to any issues you have, any fears, even the most irrational ones, with the utmost care. He reassures you over and over again, not minding every single one you tell him. “I’ll stay here with you the entire time. I won’t leave either of you.” He murmurs, his eyes locking with yours.

Rafayel:

may his lemurian ancestors save him.

The moment his eyes caught water drops dripping between your legs, his breath hitched. Time seemed to stop and the world around him was shrinking to nothing but the sound of his frantic heartbeat, the realization that it was finally happening. It was time.

His voice was a jumbled mess of panic as he stammered to ask if you were okay and he already knew you weren’t but his mind was racing a hundred miles a minute, frantic thoughts were colliding with each other. It was as if he was also going into labor as well.

He scrambled to help you up, trying to figure out where his keys were and his phone and the labor and delivery bag and- no. His brain finally caught up to him. You both decided that since your baby would have Lemurian blood so water birth was the best way to go.

With trembling hands, he guides you toward the bathroom. He would try to sound reassuring as possible but you can still hear the slight panic and worry in his voice as he urges you toward the large bathtub. He had planned this with you months ago, every detail and every thought, but now it felt like everything was happening too fast.

He settled you into the warm water, his heart pounding as he dialed his Aunt Talia’s number. The moment she picked up, she didn’t even need him to explain, his incoherent sentences made sense enough.

Once the call ended, Rafayel’s went to work to make sure you were comfortable and to make you feel more at ease. He fanned your face urgently, trying to cool the beads of sweat forming along your temple. His hands would later move to massage your hands, your feet, your thighs, anything to soothe you.

“Are you okay? How are the contractions? Does it hurt a lot?” His eyes were wide, filled with concern. He listened to any of your needs, reassuring you the best that he could. “Do you want me to talk to our little glubs? Maybe they’re being a little too rough in there.” He never fails to lighten the mood, your lips tugging into a small smile even at such a crucial time.

He moves behind you, adjusting your hair and wiping away any sweat. “You’re going to be a great mother y'know.” He murmurs, resting his chin on your shoulder as his hands drift down to rest on your swollen belly.

Sylus:

“Sy-!” You gasp, clutching your belly as the water trickles down your legs. Sylus is immediately by your side the moment his eyes notice the puddle forming at your feet.

“I’m here,” he murmurs, his hand gently resting on your back to steady you. “Our little dove is ready to leave her nest?” A faint smile curves on his lips but the worry in his eyes is palpable as he quickly connects with Mephisto to contact the twins to prepare the car.

He helps guide you to the vehicle, supporting you as you slowly settle in. Once you were, his hands found yours again. “You’re doing great, just breathe with me.” He says softly. “Remember the breathing exercises we learned?” You huff in shallow breaths, sweat beading on your forehead. You nod rapidly, the pain tensing up with every contraction.

“Good, good just breathe with me,” Sylus encourages, letting you squeeze his hand tighter with each wave of pain. He remains unfazed no matter how tightly you wrapped your hands around his. He stays calm for you, even though his nerves try to threaten to unravel.

“You’re doing so well, just a little longer alright?” His fingers brush stray strands of hair from your face, wiping the beads of sweat from your forehead. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you..” He murmurs, one hand on your belly, hoping your little dove will make it easy for you in the end.

The moment you arrive at the hospital, you’re swiftly escorted to a private labor and delivery room that Sylus had personally arranged for you. He made sure you had the best doctors and the most experienced nurses at your beck and call. If any nurse fails to meet your needs, he’ll take note of it, but right now, none of that matters. What matters is you and your little one.

Throughout the entire process, he stays with you, only leaving your side momentarily to order the twins to get something for him. Sylus would be observant of your needs and respond accordingly, letting you squeeze tightly on his hand or letting him help adjust your position. 

He can't wait for his little dove to meet her mother. Although his gaze is filled with concern, there’s a flicker of adoration in his eyes. He knows the depth of your strength but witnessing how you’ve stayed resilient for your little daughter throughout the past nine months has made him rethink just how powerful you truly are. He knows deep down she would look up to you just from how strong you are.

Caleb:

You groaned, the pain surging through your body in waves. A whimper escapes your lips as your hands instinctively curl around your swollen belly. Caleb was at your side in an instant, his eyes catching the sight of the wet pool on the floor. His heart skipped a beat as he realized your water had broken.

He leaned beside you, his arms wrapping around you. “Hey...Hey, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, brushing your hair from your face. “I’m right here. We’re gonna get you to the hospital alright, pipsqueak?”

His heart felt like it was pounding out of his chest. The drive to the hospital felt endless, each second felt like it stretched on for hours. Every time he stopped at a red light, he glanced over at you. “Breathe pipsqueak..You’re doing great. We’re almost there.” His brow furrowed in concern every time you gasped in pain and how your body tensed with contractions.

You squeezed his hand tighter with each wave of pain, your face contorting in agony and it made his heart absolutely ache. He wished with every fiber of his body that he could take away your pain and carry it for you. But all he could do for now was stay by your side. “Almost there..Just a little longer okay?” 

When you finally arrived at the hospital, Caleb was there beside you. The moment the nurse helped you settle into your private labor room, his emotions broke free. The reality of it all was too much to hold in.

As he sat beside you, tears welled up in his eyes, his voice shaky. “Thank you..thank you for giving me this,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your knuckles. He never thought this moment would come and to know that your little baby was on his way was making this dream of having a future with you turn into a reality.

ʚɞ cr. for the divider @/ cafekitsune

ʚɞ thank you to my beta reader @ilovemitsuya hehe MWAH <3

ʚɞ my other works if you want to check it out! Love and DeepSpace Masterlist, Pg.2

[pedroscurls]

stranded (one-shot)

summary: your car breaks down on the side of the road and a stranger decides to help you out... and you have no choice but to accept his help.

pairing: no outbreak/dark!joel miller x fem!reader content warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT (18+ ONLY MDNI), DUBCON - please read at own risk / heed warnings!, stockholm syndrome, unprotected p in v, rough sex, manhandling, oral sex (m receiving), orgasm denial, begging, creampie, joel ties you up, spanking, light choking, fingering, age gap (reader is in 30s, joel is in 50s), no use of y/n. word count: 5.1k a/n: and here's yet another story where i'm stepping out of my comfort zone. i've always wanted to write dark!joel, but felt like i couldn't do it justice... but then ali's (@pedgito) hosting a writing challenge (spring fever) and i figured... why not? i chose backwoods horror #1 STRANDED/SIDE OF THE ROAD. please heed the warnings, y'all. this is gonna be very dark and filthy, so if you're not into that sort of thing, that's ok!

You had no idea what you were thinking—taking a solo cross country road trip after quitting your job. Maybe you thought that you’d find yourself, find some kind of purpose that was lacking in your life, but instead, you’re stranded on the side of the road. Gas empty, no cell service, and phone already on its last battery. 

This is where you’re going to die—you’re sure of it. It’s how all horror movies start and despite the sun still high in the sky, you’re increasingly getting worried about what could happen when night falls. You scream at the top of your lungs, the sound echoing through the vast empty void. 

God, no one would hear you scream for help if you were in real danger and that thought simply frightens you. Your friends had all but praised you for this trip—this journey to self-discovery and reflection. Your parents, on the other hand, had already been concerned when you said you would be alone on this trip. A woman, traveling the world by herself? Well, that’s just asking for trouble, they said. 

And now you understand their concern. You understand their fear about you traveling all alone because of where you are now—in the middle of fucking nowhere. You should have refilled your gas when you had the chance, should have charged your phone while you were driving. Should have, should have, should have. 

10%—your phone reads. You try to send a text to your parents, to send them your location, but every attempted text just comes back with the message in red text and an exclamation point next to it: NOT DELIVERED! You raise your phone in the sky, hoping that maybe you’ll get one bar of service, but no luck. 

The trip had been successful, up until this point. You were in Texas, that you were sure of. But where in Texas? You had no fucking clue. 

You lean against the side of your car—the sun glaring down at you and you can feel a thin sheet of sweat on the side of your neck. Why did you think this was even a good idea? Traveling cross country without a plan—how fucking naive. 

Your battery drains fast and your phone finally shuts off. You let out a quiet sigh of frustration and open the passenger door of your car to toss your useless phone inside. Just as you’re about to climb in, you hear a faint noise of a car engine. Suddenly, you feel hopeful—maybe you won’t die here after all.

The sudden excitement that you feel overpowers the possibility that what you’re doing is absolutely dangerous. You’re waving your arms in the air, trying to track down the person in the car who’s making their way in your direction. It’s possible that this person whose truck is slowing down as it nears you could very well be a serial killer, but what choice did you have? 

The truck pulls up behind your car and quickly, you run over to your savior. Your hero. 

“Hi. My car’s dead, my phone’s dead, and I just need a lift to the next gas station... Or any place where I can use a phone to give someone a call,” you blurt out, breathing heavily. 

He turns his head slightly in your direction—eyes gazing at your face, then down to your shoulders and the rest of your body that he can see from the driver’s side. You’re leaning against the opened window of the passenger side of the truck. You don’t belong here, he knows that for sure. 

“Next gas station is in the next town over,” he finally answers. 

“Could you give me a lift there? I can pay you. Let me just grab my things and—”

“No need,” he interrupts, voice low. “I’m headin’ in that direction anyway. Get in.”

You grin and Joel’s jaw ticks briefly. God, you’re beautiful and it’s truly been a long time since he’s been with—

“Promise you won’t kill me?” you laugh, climbing into his truck and interrupting his thoughts. 

Joel finally takes in the rest of your frame and can immediately feel his length stirring beneath his dark jeans. His hands grip the steering wheel to ease some pressure, but you’re still talking and you’re laughing and it shoots straight to the center of his pants. It must be his lucky day. 

“If I were to kill you, I don’t think I’d be confessing that, darlin’,” he answers—the corners of his lips lift slightly. Oh, you had no idea what you just got into by climbing into his truck. 

“Right,” you reply. “That’s a good point.” You look at him—taking note of his damp hair that’s slicked away from his face, his broad frame, salt and pepper patchy beard. You realize that he must be in his fifties, but you can’t help but notice how handsome he is. That’s a good sign, you think. He won’t hurt you. He’s going to drop you off in the next town and hopefully, you’ll be able to head back home in the morning. 

“I’m guessing you live around here?” you ask, feeling the truck move back onto the main street. You glance out the window, watching your car become smaller and smaller as Joel drives further away from it. 

“Yeah,” he answers. “Guessin’ you ain’t from around here.”

“That obvious?” 

He just nods. Joel needs to focus on the road ahead of him. He has to make it seem like he’s not a threat, like he’s not just about to take you directly to his home. His secluded home. 

You introduce yourself formally, telling him your name and turning your body to face him. “What’s your name?”

“Joel.”

“You’re a man of few words, aren’t you?” you smile in his direction and Joel glances at you from the corner of his eyes. 

“Not much to say.”

“Well, how long is the drive to the next town? If you don’t have music, I’m gonna end up talking. I don’t usually like it when it’s too quiet on a drive and—”

“It’s about fifteen minutes,” he interrupts. “Radio is busted.” 

“So talking it is then.”

“No use in talkin’ if we ain’t gonna be seein’ each other after this.” 

“I guess you’re right,” you answer with a sigh. You try to remain quiet, fidgeting with your hands as you stare out the window. Every few seconds or so, you glance over at him and you can’t fully read his expression. He’s so stoic that there’s a part of you that feels like an inconvenience to him. Maybe he should have just kept on driving. 

“How long were you stranded for?” Joel asks. 

“About a couple of hours. Couldn’t get reception to call someone.”

“Yeah, phones don’t work out here.” Joel shrugs. “You eat anythin’ yet?” 

You shake your head. “Skipped breakfast this morning to get on the road.”

“My place is just a couple of minutes away,” Joel says. “I need to grab a few things. Got some food and water for you,” he offers. 

You smile and reach out to rest a hand on his forearm. It’s an innocent gesture, but it makes Joel shift in the driver’s seat. Your touch is so soft, so gentle and he flexes his arm underneath your fingertips. “You’re sweet, Joel. That sounds great. I am starving.” 

Joel bites back a smirk. He’s got you right where he wants you. 

Your hand drops from his arm and there’s a subtle frown that settles on his lips before he pulls off the main road. Within minutes, Joel pulls up to his secluded home. When he shuts off the car, he looks over at you and you’re still smiling. 

“This is a cute place, Joel,” you tell him, climbing out of the truck. 

He follows you and rounds the truck until he’s standing behind you. His fingers itch to reach out to touch you—especially when you raise your arms over your head to stretch, the ends of your shirt lifting just above the waistband of your denim shorts. He wants to touch every inch of you and he lets out a quiet grunt when you accidentally fall back against him. 

“Sorry,” you say, looking over at him from over your shoulder. 

“S’fine,” Joel mumbles and then walks past you to walk towards his front door. He unlocks it and opens it for you, watching you step across the threshold as you look around with curiosity. 

“It’s very dark in here,” you point out, walking further into his home. You see a light switch on the wall and flip it on, illuminating his entire home. Surprisingly, Joel’s large hand encompasses your wrist in a tight grip. You let out a quiet gasp and turn around to look up at him—eyes wide, lips slightly parted. 

“You always like to make yourself comfortable in a stranger’s home?” he asks with a threatening tone. 

“S–sorry,” you whisper, trying to pull your wrist away from his grip but he doesn’t budge. His grip just tightens. “Joel, you’re hurting me.”

“Pretty little thing,” he mumbles, stepping closer to you. “It’s like you were waitin’ f’me out there,” Joel says quietly. 

“Joel—”

“Shh.” Joel brings a finger up to your lips and his eyes drift down, moving his thumb to brush against you. “Shh, baby.” 

“I think I want to leave now,” you answer. “I think I just want to head into town and—”

“Oh darlin’,” he grins. “Ain’t no town for at least another fifty or some miles.” 

“B–But you said—”

“Guilty,” Joel interrupts, turning you so that your back presses against the wall. He cages you in, hand still gripping your wrist as the other comes up to rest gently over your throat. “M’sorry I lied to ya.” 

Your eyes widen in horror, the realization finally hitting you like a freight train. You had spent most of the drive admiring him—his broad frame, his quiet and mysterious nature, his large hands that gripped the steering wheel, his husky southern accent—that you ignored the feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

This was a bad idea. 

Getting into his truck was a bad fucking idea. 

“I just want to go home,” you whisper. “Please just let me go home and—”

“Shh,” he repeats. Joel steps closer to you, his nose brushing against your own. “Gonna keep you here all to myself. Been a while since I had a little plaything like yourself.” 

You shake your head. “Please, I’ll give you all the money I have back in my car.”

“Don’t want your money. Want you.” 

“Joel—”

“Love the way my name comes out of your mouth, darlin’. Say it again.”

You shake your head, closing your mouth shut. You know you’re in danger, but you’re not sure why you feel a familiar wetness pool between your legs. Your body is responding to him—to this stranger… this handsome fucking stranger who can easily strangle you if he wanted to. 

“Say. It. Again,” he repeats.

“Joel,” you whisper. 

“Good girl,” Joel grins proudly. He drops his hand from your throat and releases his grip around your wrist. He stares into your eyes, searching for any hesitation or any inclination that you’re going to run and leave. He sees your eyes flicker to the front door and he narrows his eyes—his large hand once more coming up to splay against your throat. Joel applies just a bit of pressure and he watches your eyes go wide again. “Wouldn’t think about it, if I were you.” 

You beg with your eyes—apologetic and pleading for him to just let you go. “I’ll be good,” you mumble against his grip. “I promise. I–I’ll be good.”

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun,” Joel nods, releasing his grip around your throat. “And I bet if I were to reach between your legs, I’d feel just how fuckin’ wet you are f’me, won’t I?”

You shake your head in defiance. “N–No…” 

Joel lets out a chuckle. “Mmm, that so?” He tugs on the waistband of your denim shorts and pulls you to him. He’s so rough and there’s an excitement that courses through your veins. He tugs down your shorts and panties down your legs, looking down at your white lacy thong with a grin. He can see a blotch of wetness and brings it to his nose, inhaling deeply as he lets out a contented sigh. “I bet you taste fuckin’ good too,” he whispers. 

You suddenly feel self-conscious and your hands immediately move to try and tug down the end of your shirt to cover your lower half. Joel just shakes his head and grabs your wrists to pin them above your head against the wall. You squirm against his grip and he kicks your legs apart, stepping in front of you to keep them spread open. His free hand comes down and immediately runs the pads of his fingers across the length of your sex—your body betrays you because you let out a quiet whimper as you arch your back against his touch. 

“Wet,” he points out. “You like this, don’t you?” 

You shake your head. 

“Liar,” he chuckles. Joel wastes no time in sliding two of his thick fingers past your folds—your warm, tight, and so fucking wet that a large grin spreads across his lips. 

You squirm against him at the sudden and rough intrusion, eyes gazing up at him. His eyes are dark, filled with lust and more than likely sinister thoughts, but you can’t help but notice his grin and the cute fucking dimple that appears on his cheek. You shouldn’t like this, but your body is yearning for more. Yearning for him. 

Joel’s thick fingers plunge into you repeatedly—his other hand gripping your wrists so tight above your head that you’re sure there’s going to be bruises. You shut your eyes tightly, keeping your lips in a thin line and forcing yourself to stay quiet because you know that if you make a sound, it’s only going to fuel him further. 

His eyes stare deeply at you and you’re so wet that Joel’s fingers pump into you with ease. He can see you struggling against his grip and he leans closer, lips near your ear as he whispers huskily. “Lemme hear you, baby.” 

You shake your head in defiance, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. You suck in a breath when his thumb brushes against your clit and a quiet—almost inaudible—moan escapes your lips. 

“Ah, darlin’,” Joel grins, gently nipping at your earlobe. His grip around your wrists loosen just slightly and he’s distracted, yearning to pull more sounds out of you and it gives you just the right moment to push him away. You miss his fingers immediately, a loud squelch echoing the walls when his fingers slip out of you. 

With as much strength as you can muster, you shove him so hard that he stumbles backwards with a grunt. You look around haphazardly, eyes wide, heart beating out of your chest. You’re very well aware that your lower half is bare, but you think maybe you can make a run for it—you just need to grab his keys, run out the door into his truck and drive away. 

You glance over your shoulder and Joel chuckles. He fucking laughs at your poor attempt at running away because he takes three strides in your direction and takes a fistful of your hair. You let out a loud yelp and he’s already quick to bend you over the back of his couch—the edge of it digging into your lower abdomen.

You’re already trying to squirm away, but his grip in your hair tightens and pain rushes through you. You’re about to beg him to stop, to beg him to let you go, but you feel his free hand connect with your backside. The slap reverberates through your entire being and the sound of his hand coming in contact with your ass echoes through his quiet home. 

“You just got here, baby,” he growls—he doesn’t let up, your skin already reddening with each spank. “You can’t leave me yet.”

“I–I–” you mumble and your body reacts automatically, pushing back into him. “Please!” 

“M’gonna have to tie you up, I think,” Joel grins. “Just to make sure you don’t pull that shit again.”

Your ass is beginning to sting and you try to scramble away, but Joel pulls you upright against him. His large hands move to your hips, fingertips digging into you as he uses your body to rub his bulge against you. 

“I think you’re gonna feel real good around me,” he whispers into your hair, hand sliding over your abdomen and down between your legs. “You’re actin’ like you ain’t enjoyin’ this, but you’re so fuckin’ wet f’me.” 

He begins to circle your clit with the pads of his fingers and it causes your back to arch against him, hands darting out to rest on the edge of the couch. A loud moan finally escapes your lips and Joel lets out a low growl at the sound—he wants to hear more of it, craves more of it. 

“From the way you’re squirmin’,” he continues, “Makes me wonder if you’ve been neglected.” 

You shake your head—lying.  

“Oh? Got a boyfriend back home, hm?” 

You shake your head again.

“Poor little thing,” Joel mumbles, head dipping down to the side of your neck as he presses his soft lips against you. It causes a shiver to run through you—his soft lips and his rough beard. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m here now. I’ll take care of ya.”

You’re an absolute mess by the time Joel’s done with you. You’re lying on his mattress, hands bound by rope and attached to the headboard. You’re completely bare for him and he’s brought you to the edge of orgasm too many times to count that you’re practically begging for some release. 

His hands are surprisingly gentle when he settles himself back between your legs and it causes you to flinch. His fingertips brush against your hardened nipples, dark bruises already forming around it from his love bites—he liked to call it. 

“You’re soakin’ my sheets, honey,” he grins. 

“Then let me fucking come!” you retaliate with a huff. Your eyes go wide the minute it leaves your mouth and you’re already trying to scramble away from him, despite being all tied up. 

Joel laughs again. “You’re cute when you’re angry, baby… but let’s not forget who’s in charge here.” 

He finally pulls the ends of his shirt over his head and you lift your own head off the pillow to get a good look at him. There’s no way this fucking man is in his fifties—you shake your head of the thoughts that begin to fill your mind. He has you here held captive and you’re sure that he’s going to kill you once he’s gotten what he needed. 

But you can’t help it. 

Joel’s fucking gorgeous. 

Is this what Stockholm syndrome is? Attracted to your captor? Whatever the fuck it is, you’re squirming impatiently. There’s a dull throb between your legs, an ache, a need for him to give you what you need. 

And he smiles. The same fucking dimple that appeared earlier that day is now in full display because Joel knows he’s got you right where he wants you. 

“Gonna be a good girl f’me? No more fightin’ back?” Joel begins, reaching down to tug his boxers down his strong legs. Once the fabric is gone from his body, your eyes widen once more at the sheer size of him. Girthy. Leaking at the tip. You’re not sure if it’d fit inside of you and Joel notices a flicker of uncertainty flash across your features. “We’ll make it fit, baby. Don’t you worry.”

You whimper quietly in response, feeling him brush his rounded tip against your opening. You try to wiggle your hips down, yearning for more, but he just pulls back and shakes his head. 

“Please,” you plead. You bat your eyes at him, gazing at him under the rim of your eyelashes. It’s a poor attempt at begging, at looking innocent because you look anything but that. 

Joel just lets a small smile line his lips before he pulls away and mounts your upper half. You clear your throat—the size of him this close almost threatening. 

“Don’t be gettin’ shy on me now,” he growls lowly. “Been pleasuring you for a while now, so it’s only fair that you return the favor.” 

“I–I haven’t come yet. Please just let me come and I’ll do anything—”

Joel clicks his tongue and runs the tip of his manhood across your mouth, smirking at the sight of his precome now on your lips. “You ain’t the one in charge here.” He pushes his tip past your lips and lets out a low groan. One hand moves to grip the headboard ahead of him as his other hand keeps a steady grip around the base of his length. “Open wider f’me,” he whispers. 

You have no choice but to obey—parting your lips wider and feeling more of his manhood slide into your mouth. You can feel the corners of your mouth stretch due to his girth. It isn’t long before he pushes further into your mouth, feeling him hit the back of your throat and you gag almost instantly. Tears sting your eyes and he only gives you a few seconds to breathe before he pushes back into you. 

You squeeze your legs together, trying to alleviate some pressure that has been building and building between your legs and the pit of your stomach. You glance up in his direction only to see Joel with his head tilted back, chest and neck exposed, and his eyes completely shut. A quiet groan escapes his lips as he begins to move his hips forward and backward—you swirl your tongue around him, hollow your cheeks and it causes him to moan loudly. 

And fuck, it’s a beautiful sound to come out of him. 

He’s moaning. He’s deep in his own pleasure. 

And it’s all because of you. 

By the time he pulls out of your mouth, Joel’s eyes snap open to look down at you. Lips swollen, tears streaking down the corner of your eyes. You’re so distracted by your desire to come that you don’t realize what could possibly happen once he’s done with you. 

You’re going to die. 

Joel is going to fucking kill you. 

And this cross country road trip you had originally planned was a stupid fucking idea. 

Joel sees a look of fear flash across your features and it only makes him smile, makes his cock jerk at the sight of you. He moves down your body and settles himself between your legs again. 

“Gonna fill you up now,” Joel nods. “And you’re gonna lie there and take it like a good girl.” 

You nod. 

His hand comes up to grip your chin roughly, staring into your eyes. “Say it.” 

“I–I’ll be good. I’ll take it like a good girl and—”

Without warning, Joel pushes fully into you in one stroke. You feel your body jerk upwards at the sudden intrusion and you’re lucky that you’re so wet because while he slides in so easily, you can’t help but feel the painful stretch to give way to his size. Your hands try to wiggle out of the bondage, but the rope just digs further into your skin—it’s like he expertly tied you in a way that the more you struggle, the tighter it gets. 

Joel’s hand moves from your chin to cup your breast, thumb brushing against your nipple as he remains still for a moment. “Feel so good,” he whispers, head dipping lower to brush his nose against yours. He can hear you panting heavily, lips parted slightly. “Like you were made f’me.” 

Then, Joel pulls out to his tip only to slam himself back into you. He repeats this movement multiple times and your moans—the ones that you’ve tried so desperately to hold back—finally escape your lips and mix in with the sounds of his skin slapping against yours. 

The bed rocks against the wall—his thrusts are so rough and you’re sure that your entire body is going to ache for the next few days. 

That is if you’re still alive by then.  

One hand moves to your hip as the other moves to wrap around your neck. He applies a bit of pressure to cut off your oxygen and you gasp, eyes wide as you stare up at him. 

Begging. 

Pleading. 

Not for him to stop… 

…but for more. 

Joel grins at that and continues his thrusts, the sensation of your walls sliding along his length only urging him closer and closer to release. He can feel the tightness in the pit of his stomach begin to unravel and he pulls out, not yet wanting to be done with you. 

When Joel does pull out of you, he releases his grip around your throat and hears you take one deep breath. You’re breathing heavily and he looks between your legs—so fucking wet, so swollen and he taps your clit gently with the tip of his manhood only to see you squirm. 

You’re sensitive, he thinks to himself with a grin. 

“Joel,” you whisper. At this rate, you don’t care if you die. Having him bring you on the edge of an orgasm only to stop is worse, you’re sure of it. 

“Gonna keep you here forever,” Joel says with a dark gaze. “You’re mine now. You understand?” 

You clear your throat and nod slowly—anything to get him to make you come. “Y–Yes, yours.” 

“Doesn’t sound too convincing.” 

“Fuck, Joel! Please,” you beg. “I don’t care what you do to me, please just let me come…” 

Joel chuckles—dark, sinister. He leans down and lightly pecks your lips before he climbs off the bed to look at you from top to bottom. “Like I said, you ain’t the one in charge here.” 

Your eyes stare at him and you notice the way his manhood stands fully erect, glistening with your arousal. He follows your gaze and smirks, reaching down to tug on it. “This what you want?” 

You nod. “Please.” 

“So if I untie you, you gonna be a good girl and obey?” Joel contemplates, still stroking the base of his length. His hand doesn’t feel as good as being inside of you and he almost loses his resolve. 

But he doesn’t. 

Joel’s patient. 

“Y–Yes, please,” you plead once more. 

“Love hearin’ you beg, darlin’,” he grins. Joel slowly reaches over and begins to untie the rope around your wrists but he makes sure that his attention is focused on you. He needs to make sure that you’re not going to run again. 

Once the rope is finally undone, you roll your wrists and touch the bruises around it. You flinch and then look up at him—eyes still pleading. 

“One wrong move and I’m tyin’ you up again. You hear me?” Joel growls, seeing you move to sit up. You nod in agreement and he tugs on your ankle, pulling you to the edge of the bed with such force that you let you a quiet yelp. 

Joel flips you onto your abdomen and grabs your hips, lifting you up so that you’re now on all fours on his mattress. He comes up behind you and slides into you with warning—again. 

A loud moan escapes your lips and you fall forwards—cheek resting against his mattress, eyes fully shut tight, and your hands gripping the sheets so tightly that your knuckles turn white. 

“Feel even tighter this way,” Joel points out with a grunt. 

Your toes curl at his rough assault against you. It’s like he’s possessed, so territorial and so animalistic that his thrusts drive you further into the mattress. You wanted this, but you can’t help the pain that shoots through you at his size. Joel’s by far the biggest you’ve ever had and it wasn’t like you had a healthy sex life before this. 

“Fuck!” You scream, now trying to scramble away from him because it’s too much. He’s edged you for too long that you’re sure you can’t even get there—your body is humming and you can feel the familiar sensation in the pit of your stomach. You’re close and Joel knows. 

He laughs and grips your hips, pulling back onto him with such force that you arch your back. Joel grabs your arms and pins them at your lower back as he pulls your body forward and backward against him. He glances down and sees just how wet you are—the hair at his base completely damp from your arousal. 

“You wanted to come… then fuckin’ come,” Joel groans, pulling you up against his chest. He grunts into your ear as he keeps your arms pinned at your lower back. His other hand reaches around and dips lower to begin circling your clit against the pads of his fingertips. 

You moan so loud that it echoes throughout his home. Your head tilts back against his shoulder and he drags his teeth across the side of your neck—both your bodies now covered in a thin sheet of sweat. 

“J–Joel, I–,” a loud sob escapes your lips when you finally reach your orgasm. Your body shakes against his own and his thrusts don’t let up—still hammering into you from behind and using your slickness and tightened walls to bring himself closer to his own release. 

“Fuck,” he groans against you, releasing your arms and pinning you back onto the mattress. His hips sling against your own—Joel is literally fucking you into the mattress and you’re already so fucking sensitive that you try to move away. 

Fuck him. If he wanted to deny you of your orgasm, you can do the same to him. 

But it’s no use. Joel’s so much stronger and his large hands grip your hips so tightly that you feel pain from it. 

“S’cute,” he says in between thrusts. “Thinkin’ you can run away.” Joel grunts lowly, chasing his own orgasm. “Can promise you one thing, baby…” He slams into you once more and releases his warm seed into you—paints your tight and wet walls with his come. He leans forward, pushing further into you as his tip kisses your cervix. “You ain’t ever leavin’ me.” 

He presses soft kisses along your shoulder before he pulls out, watching with a smirk to see his come trickle out of you and down your legs. 

“You’re stranded, darlin’. Ain’t no one comin’ to save you,” Joel grins. “And I ain’t even done with you yet.”

[glamourscat]

May i please request headcanons, maybe a drabble of the batboys where reader is trying so hard to pretend that they don't know anything about their partner being a vigilante because they want to be told with trust and the boys are growing increasingly concerned about their s/o's obliviousness bcs like?? and the their s/o keeps saying things like "haha yeah!! red robin's super underground but that costume is pretty good timmy!" and "oh? i do have a thing for morally gray men, lovely red hood costume" whenever they accidentally see parts of the costume and can't pretend they didn't see it

idk i just think it would be funny af, ty in advance!!

i decided to go for drabbles. they are quite long so i only did jason and tim. should i do dick, maybe steph too, in the near future? let me know!

"You can't be serious," Jason thought. It's not that you're blind, and he’s not exactly being subtle. He knew from day one that being involved with a civilian meant the topic of his nightlife would eventually come to light. Before getting together you two had been friends for a long time, but he never quite managed to outright say, "Hey, by the way, I’m Red Hood." How do you even drop something like that into a conversation? 

Yet, as your relationship grew, more milestones came along and suddenly, you two were approaching your 2 year anniversary. Now, more than ever, as you found yourselves living together, Jason knew it was going to be harder to explain his secret. How many lies could he keep telling about going to help Roy or some emergency with Dick? How many nights could he still sneak out after you’d fallen asleep, only to return aching from a patrol?

So, he started leaving subtle hints. From his domino mask to his gloves… but hell, at this point, he might as well leave his whole costume out, because how in the hell are you not picking up on the clues?

“You know, Jay, that vigilante... What's his name? The one in red? Oh right, Red Hood. He’s pretty cool, right? I mean, he has a different approach than the others, i think some would say morally gray. I mean, hot.. Anyway, but—oh, wait, this is a lovely Red Hood costume! I didn’t know you were a fan too?!”

At that moment, Jason didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or do both at the same time. Maybe by accident—maybe not—he had left his entire costume out. And it wasn’t exactly cheap. The fabric was thick, heavy, it was definitely not something you’d find at a Spirit Halloween. Yet, you just folded it, didn’t ask any questions, and continued with your little chat.

“Doll, you got a moment?” he asked, trying to keep his tone as calm as possible because he was seconds away from laughing his lungs out.

“Yeah, Jay?” You looked at him, internally sweating. Did you give anything away? Did he suspect that you knew?

“You know, doll… that… the costume. I mean, it’s not fake, right? I…” He sighed, trying to find the right words.

“It’s real. Because I’m the Red Hood.” There. He’d said it. A relieved sigh left his lips as the words came out. Now comes the hardest part: your reaction. Would you laugh? Be shocked?

“Oh, yeah. I knew.”

What?

“What—? I beg your pardon?” Jason asked, his voice laced with disbelief, eyes scanning you to figure out if you were lying.

“I mean, you’re not exactly the most subtle, love, are you?” You said, amusement dancing in your eyes as you tried to hold back a smile. “Besides, I found out a while ago. I was just waiting, I suppose. It wasn’t my place to ask or say anything. I figured when you were ready, you’d say something.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

“Wait… when did you find out?” Jason raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Well, you see… It wasn’t that hard. At the beginning of our relationship when I’d tell you, ‘Hey, I’m going out with my friends tonight,’ and then coincidentally, when something happened—because it’s Gotham, let's be honest—there you were, Red Hood, swooping in to save the day. Always fleeting, never lingering too long. But what was really odd was that both Red Hood and my new boyfriend had the exact same walk style. Not to mention, Jay, mask or no mask, costume or no costume, I could still recognize you. Even in a crowded room.”

Jason just stood there, stunned. How had he missed all the signs? A part of him was relieved, he didn’t have to keep lying, but another part of him couldn’t believe he had been so obvious. You were too sharp for him to pull anything past you. And to think he was under the impression he had you fooled…

As he looked at you, he realized there was more to your patience than just waiting for him to confess. You’d known, but you’d never pushed him. It made him wonder how long you had really been aware. But now that it was out in the open, Jason found himself surprised by how easy the weight of the secret seemed to fall away. He’d been carrying it for so long, and yet, with you, there was no judgment, no shock. Just acceptance.

"You've always been patient with me," he murmured, his voice soft but grateful.

You gave him a warm, knowing smile, stepping closer. "Because I know you, Jason. And I know what you're doing matters. It’s a part of who you are, just like everything else."

Tim was stressed, but to be fair, Tim was always stressed. You two had been dating for a good while now and had been friends for much longer. However, somehow, he still hadn’t brought up the whole vigilante thing. Maybe it was because he was scared, or maybe it was due to his own selfishness. For once, he just wanted someone to see him as Tim and only Tim. But the truth was, he couldn’t exist without Red Robin. He knew that. And it had been too long. He knew he had to say something. But… does he?

Still, something didn’t sit right with him. It was the way you weren’t questioning him anymore on why he was always so tired, why sometimes he had to be gone for an entire week or why he trained so intensely. His physique, though not the most built, was still incredibly fit for a “simple rich kid.” And for the life of him, he couldn’t understand if you were just pretending not to notice or if you honestly hadn’t put it together. But when you suggested what costumes to wear for Halloween, he almost passed out on the spot.

“Yeah, I mean, we can do a couple’s costumes or… I don’t know, Tim. We can always go as… hmm? What about we go as vigilantes? I can be Wonder Woman and you can be Red Robin. It’s pretty underground. I’m sure the costume will look great; besides, you already have a good replica in your wardrobe. Fits like a glove, no?”

Like, this had to be a joke, right? Sometimes Tim wondered if his life was some kind of reality show, secretly followed by cameras just to capture his reaction to these weird, questionable moments.

He froze for a moment, staring at you, trying to piece everything together. Was this your way of telling him you knew? Was this a test?

“Uh... you... know?” he asked, his voice betraying a mix of confusion and disbelief.

You look at him confused. “Know what?” You shrugged, casually leaning back in your chair.

Tim blinked, his mind racing. He was smart, very so, but at this very moment he felt like the most ignorant being on planet Earth. He looks at you and you look at him and for a moment there is this unspoken, silent battle.

“You know, that I am Red Robin.” he says, quietly. Eyes searching yours for an answer.

“And what if I do?” you reply back equally quietly.

He had expected a lot of things. Shock, anger, even confusion, but not this calm, almost nonchalant acknowledgment. And yet, a wave of relief washed over him. You weren’t angry or disappointed. You weren’t even all that surprised.

“I’ve always known, Tim,” you continued, your tone softening. “You’ve been dropping clues left and right. The late nights, the cryptic phone calls, the strange bruises... And don’t even get me started on your ‘training’ routines. I never pushed because I knew you’d tell me when you were ready. And now, here we are. Although… I certainly did not imagine it to happen in such a way” you say, letting out a small soft laugh. 

Tim let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging in a way that felt like he’d been carrying a weight for far too long. "I didn’t want to burden you with it. I didn’t want to be Red Robin to you. I just wanted to be... just Tim."

You smiled softly, walking over to hug him. “And you are. You’re Red Robin, sure, but you’re not just that; are you? You’re Tim. My Tim. Two things can coexist at the same exact time, this is just what makes you.. You, ya know?” 

Tim stared at you for a moment, hands around your waist, his mind still processing. It was as if the entire weight of the secret identity he’d been carrying all this time suddenly evaporated. He had been so worried about how you would react, but now that it was out in the open, there was nothing left to hide.

"Thanks," he whispered, his head dropping to your neck. Hiding, but not really. It was more or so a way to feel you even closer. 

Your head gently resting against his, brushing a kiss against his hair. “Always, Tim. You’re still the same guy I fell for. I love you.”

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[matsunoluvr]

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ how clingy sylus copes with your absence

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking

characters: sylus

link to master list here!!!

authors notes: so basically we all love clingy!sylus and i don’t think people talk about it enough, so i here i try to do him some justice </3

i tried not to mischaracterise him, but i find it difficult to imagine how he’d react. he’s a full fledged adult - 27/28 years old - so i can see him trying to be mature about it. but after a while, it gets hard to wait any longer no?

more below the cut!! :3

first few days of your absence sylus is fine, i mean it’s one day - people get busy, people get tired. sylus understands better than most that life gets tough.

he checks his messages maybe two or three times to see if you’ve responded, but nothing. that’s okay, he’ll wait for you.

after five-ish days he’s a little irritated, how could you forget about him for that long?

yeah you could be busy, but seriously?

he gives you a call but it sends straight to voicemail, to which he refuses to leave one.

i bet he secretly feels a little embarrassed at how much your absence is bothering him, and out of spite he refuses to check his phone during the day.

“Tsk, ignoring me?”

luke and kieran definitely notice his small shift in attitude - his nonchalant facade isn’t perfect after all.

they are also secretly cursing you for disappearing, i mean come on! how could you leave them with an angry boss!!

another few days pass, how long has it been since he last saw you? a week?

gets fidgety and cracks, calling you again - no reply.

when he gets sent to voicemail he speaks in his typical, slow tone.

“Why aren’t you picking up my calls, kitten? Get back to me when you listen to this.”

despite his seemingly calm voice, he’s starting to really lose his cool. your absence was unsettling, and yeah he’s disappeared before for a few days on business, he at least picks up calls.

he never leaves you clueless for even a few days, let alone a whole week.

mephisto is sent out for surveillance of the n109 zone, and sylus keeps his phone close. always in his vision, hearing range, whatever.

every notification catches his attention, eyes snapping to the illuminated screen only to slowly drag away when he sees it isn’t you.

from the first to second week of your absence, his irritability shoots up. sylus is getting agitated, brushing it off as annoyance.

after all, what the fuck did he do for you to ignore him for this long?

he texts you almost every day now, the texts getting increasingly shorter, decreasingly floral and more concerned.

“Kitten, why aren’t you picking up my calls?”

“[YN], are you really ignoring me?”

“Hello? Are you okay?”

“Call me.”

he’s calling you every other day now, his sleeping schedule is deteriorating and his mind isn’t focused.

sylus is getting angry at himself, why is he so messed up about this? so what if you haven’t spoken to him in 13 days, isn’t it pathetic to be so affected by your absence?

he lived 27+ years without you, he can live another hundred without.

yet he still finds himself rearranging the plushies you two caught together, checking for your messages, scrolling through your posts.

almost a month has passed since your disappearance, and sylus isn’t getting any better.

why did you go? are you okay? did you get hurt?

god forbid something happened to you.

he’s hired some people to search for you, fuck waiting he’s worried.

finds himself drinking more alcohol with his meals than usual, to the point where even he - a heavy weight - feels his head becoming a little dizzy, his hands twitching for his phone.

one night, after downing a bottle of wine himself, he calls you at least five times, before leaving a voicemail.

his voice lacks its usual slow, bored tone. instead his words are a little slurred, his voice seems a little higher pitched - not too much but it is noticeable - and he’s speaking a little faster too.

“[YN]? Where are you, are you okay? Please pick up, it’s been a month. Do you really- have I deterred you? I know you dislike me, have you ran away? If you have, then at least tell me you’re alive. I mi-”

he catches himself before he says it, because he’s just realised something, something that was so blatantly obvious he feels shocked that he hadn’t noticed it

he misses you, he isn’t angry. he isn’t annoyed that you disappeared, he’s upset.

the fact that it took so long for him to realise is stupid, and all he can do it sit and chuckle drunkenly to himself.

“I miss you, [YN]. Please call me back.”

when you finally call him - exactly 43 days since you left - he almost scrambles to his phone

sylus picks up immediately, yet miraculously finds himself at a loss for words. what does someone say after over a month of waiting?

kind of just stands there, frozen - if you wait before speaking you can hear his almost shaky breaths

“Hey Sylus, you miss me? You left over 13 voicemails and 65 texts, I’m touched.”

gods your voice smoothed over his tense muscles like honey

he sits down, heart beating faster than usual. it’s stupid how much hearing your voice affected him, but he couldn’t help the way his body relaxed at the sound.

if he was a dog his tail would be wagging so fucking hard

“Come here, now.”

when you do arrive, you seriously expect to get killed or something. his tone sounded seriously pissed - i mean like the most pissed you’ve ever heard it

but when you open the door you just get swallowed into a chest and a pair of arms

if you try to move away or struggle, they just hold you tighter and restrict your actions and- oh, sylus is hugging you.

his face is angled down into your head, and you can’t see his expression - only the beating of his heart against you, and it was fast.

“Where the fuck were you? I missed you.”

explain whatever the hell you want to sylus, he’s already decided that you’re not going out without him knowing ever again

probably tries to download some sort of GPS tracker on your hunter’s watch to make sure he knows where you are

TLDR; sylus doesn’t realise how much he really cares for you until you go MIA for over a month in which he starts to genuinely tweak out! :3

AN; guys i actually spat this out in like an hour i think i might have clingy!sylus brain rot because oh my god anyways this isn’t proof read i just needed to express my love for clingy!sylus that gets worried because he isn’t just a dominant badass gang leader he’s also human and he also gets sad and upset and feels emotions argahdbansn he just sucks at recognising his own desires (get it because his evol eye can see other people’s desires but he can’t see his own :3)

[erwinsvow]

how would rafe be when he’s at kelce’s house hanging out with friends and he brought shy reader with him when it’s late and she’s yawning and starts tugging on his arm whispering in his ear ‘i’m sleepy’ but trying not to interrupt

this was soooo lovely ♡ theyre such cuties

true to form—you're an early sleeper. there's no reason to stay awake so late, not when you're always home and your favorite baking show airs early. it was a habit, one that you had been feeding for years, and now that you were dating rafe, he was feeding into it too.

dates ended early, always coming back to tannyhill with ice cream for dessert before the sun had even finished setting. you rarely went to parties with him, but even when you did, he'd find a way to get you home or a locked room to sleep in while he finished selling.

and though you appreciated it like nothing else, you didn't want your boyfriend to get upset that you could never do anything that he liked. that's why you'd sucked it up today, accompanying rafe to kelce's for a 'hang out'—code for beer, pizza, and every person that the three boys knew.

curled up next to rafe, you drink the apple juice from kelce's fridge. it belongs to his little sister, but beer is disgusting and there's nothing else besides hard liquor. rafe's on his second, but still completely sober, while top is drunk already.

the sun set maybe an hour ago—and you've been yawning ever since. you think for a second, listening to the boys talk, that if you close your eyes, you might not be able to open them again. heavy lids flutter shut as you take in the conversation.

"i took out that girl. the one she introduced me to," kelce says, and though your eyes are closed, you know he just gestured to you.

"how was it?" rafe asks, his grip around your shoulder getting a little tighter. it feels warmer, and you snuggle in, finding sleep increasingly hard to evade.

"she was nice-"

"i had a girl once," topper drunkenly slurs, interrupting.

"shut it, top. yeah, kelce?" rafe asks, and even in your state, you feel yourself smile a little. making sure people finish their sentences after they've been interrupted is a habit you have passed on to rafe.

"it was good. she's a little quiet, but-"

"takes some time to open up," you mumble sleepily against rafe's arm. you don't know if they heard you, but your boyfriend did, leaning in to brush some hair away from your face, pushing it behind your ear. you hear top and kelce talking in the background.

"tired, kid?" he asks, quiet and into your ear. you blink a little, steadying yourself with the arm you'd been leaning on.

"no," you lie. "i'm fine. keep talking."

"late for you, huh?" rafe says, and though you don't want to admit it to him and be a buzzkill, nothing sounds better than going home and sleeping next to him right now—no matter how much you want to make sure kelce asks your friend out on another date.

"just sleepy," you mumble back. "but we don't have to go."

you look up at rafe, and you suddenly feel incredibly awake, when you take in how he's looking down at you—concerned eyes, a soft smile, all his attention on you with two friends and a bunch of people waiting for their turn near him.

"c'mon. grab your stuff." he turns away from you, doing that goodbye handshake thing that boys do with each other to kelce, topper too drunk still and instead getting a hard pat on the back. "we're goin'. see you tomorrow, and make sure no more beer for this one."

rafe takes you home, and though somewhere inside you feel bad for making him leave early, you begin to realize he's not mad about it. with that thought in mind, you fall asleep in the passenger seat of his truck.

he carries you upstairs.

[chevxyn]

FIRST love and first LOVE.

ft. itoshi sae, itoshi rin, & you.

angst, fluff, childhood crush troupe, friends to lovers.

wc : 890

your FIRST love, it was sae.

he was the awakening of your love story, and your bestfriend.

you were a child, who had passion for art. you were not much older than ten when you met sae. it was when a few older boys that was at the age of twelve was bullying you. and he stood up for you, his little brother that seemed to be your age behind him.

when the two of them approached you, they were kind to hand their arms reaching for yours. that’s the first time you met them. it didn’t take long until the three of you became friends. more specifically, you and sae. rin was just kinda there since he was a little shy to you.

when you would watch them joke and play together, you would also draw the scenery around. and they would compliment you, which you would just get flustered. giving them a smile aswell as thanking them.

sae would get the two of you popsicles, and even invite you to their house. where you met their parents, and fortunately, they seem to love you too. to you, sae really was the kindest person.

the three of you would hang out at the shore, as sae would sit next to you, your heart would beat. you were a kid, you didn’t know this feeling yet. even your parents never explained it, so you never told anyone.

it’s at the shore again on the other side of the fence, the three of you have been friends for around two years now. sae explained how he’ll go away tomorrow to spain, and your heart dropped.

your bestfriend, is going away? rin didn’t expressed alot of emotions, but you were frowning. which sae took notice, “come on now, [nickname].” he said and pushed you sideways using his elbow.

“who knows? maybe you’re gonna end up big like that leonardo da vinci guy and come to spain with us.” he smirked and you let out a small chuckle, “but i promise, when we do meet up again, the three of us, will become the best in world.”

and so it was time to say goodbye to sae, it was at the airport. you had your final hug with sae. which sae gladly accepted, hugging you too before saying goodbye to his parents and rin. and this is the loss of your first love.

your first LOVE, it was rin.

he is your love story, and your darling lover.

after sae’s departure, you and rin never had a separation, dare you say, you gotten even closer. rin saw you as his other sibling. well, atleast at first.

as the two of you had gotten older, so did your feelings. rin has been increasingly gentle with you, and worked even harder to catch after sae. unfortunately, that day came.

where sae went home, the first time in a while that you met sae again, you noticed he was not like he was. he was much colder, and your heart dropped seeing him. and just a few moments after that, a fight broke out with the two brothers. it was something that you did not imagine to happen, especially when you heard him saying these words to his own little brother, “I don’t need you in my life anymore.”

after sae had left the scene, you went to rin. immediately crouching to his level, and rin was holding back tears. he was down to his knees, before you held him in your arms, hugging him.

it was after a few days, you visited rin again, where you saw him ruining the trophies that he worked so hard for. you came running to him, and calmed him down before he looked at you.

“he crushed my dreams, i’m gonna crush his.” this is not what you expected, but just nodded to him. “[name], what am i gonna do?” he said moments later, his voice more quiet and vulnerable.

few months have passed since then, and rin had grown more colder to everyone except you, and you had noticed this. you would express your concern whenever he would do stupid things, dangerous ones.

“ya know, you need to stop doing those stunts, what if you get hurt?” you said as you sighed, sitting beside him at the ground watching movies with him.

“i have you to take care of me, don’t i?” he reasoned, and you frowned at that excuse, looking at him. “i mean yeah, but,” you tried to reason, but he cuts you off. “but what? don’t you like me?” he said and you froze, huh? “you always took care and looked after me, more than my brother ever did.”

“i mean, i do like you, but-“ rin glanced at you, “but what?” you blinked, and raised your eyebrow. “[name], if it isn’t obvious with your peanut brain, i also like you.”

the world felt like it stopped at that time. as you could only see his side profile, he didn’t even bother to look at you as he confessed that. but eventually, he does and the two of you locked eyes.

his beautiful teals ones against yours, you felt your heart racing, more than ever that you can hear it beating. “do you accept me too?” he simply said, and that’s how he ended up as your first love.

©chevxyn

[wonderjanga]

even though the bad parent captain marvel thing is resolved, i'd still love some more scenarios from the JL's pov of marvel's 'bad' parenting. ONLY if you WANT to do it, if you dont then just ignore this request lol

like him telling freddy or mary to 'fuck off' or swear at them in general and threaten to steal their stuff or blackmail them (like normal siblings do -coming from a middle child with two siblings)

or maybe they hear freddy and mary ranting about marvel and they JL misinterprets their sibling rivalry as abuse

Marvel is a terrible parent. The JL knows it. It just flabbergasts them every time they see or hear about it because Marvel is literally the nicest person ever so why does he hate his kids?

Junior and Mary: *walking down a hallway in the Watchtower while complaining about Marvel*

Mary: “Says you. He was chasing me around with a darn stick trying to beat me yesterday.”

Junior: “You don’t have the right to complain. At least you could run.”

Mary: “I guess but Pedro was carrying you so you could get away too. So I think I have to right to complain.”

Flash: *had the unfortunate displeasure of hearing that*

Now why was a grown man running around after his kids and trying to beat them with a stick? Also what did Cap do to make it so that Junior couldn’t run away?? Flash knew he was magic, so he was hoping he just used some magic to bind his legs or something. Speaking of Junior…

Junior: *annoying Marvel*

Marvel: *looking more increasingly annoyed* “Junior. Please take five steps back from me before I decide to slap the shit out of you.”

Supes: *immediately looks over to them*

Junior: “No you won’t. You’re chicken-”

Marvel: *literally raises his hand to do it*

Supes: *looks extremely concerned*

Junior: *immediately shuts up*

Marvel: “Yeah that’s what I thought.”

Junior: “Bastard.”

Marvel: “You’re a bastard too. Anyways, want lunch?”

Junior: “Yeah, tacos.”

Clark got a little whiplash from the quick change of topic. Though, that entire interaction really does enforce that he does not care for these kids. It’s so unfortunately obvious. Another example of him not caring was when Marvel and the silver one were sent to go examine a cave on a deserted planet.

Marvel and Eugene: *staring at the ominous cave*

Marvel: *walks behind Eugene* “Well… go on.” *pushes him forward to the cave*

Eugene: “What do you mean go on?! I’m not gonna sacrifice myself for you!”

Marvel: “But we’re family.”

Eugene: “So? I’m not fighting a dang Xenomorph if one pops out.”

Marvel: “Don’t worry. We’ll fight it together.” *continued to push him, but is thankfully walking with him*

Batman saw this entire interaction when he was reviewing to body cams he forced the two to wear. Who just pushes their son into danger like that? He needed to have a talk with Marvel about his parenting.

Pedro: “Hey, which of us is your favorite?”

Marvel: *almost immediately* “Mary and Darla.”

Pedro: “Mary and Darla- why them?? Darla was eating crayons just the other day, and Mary is Mary.”

Marvel: “Okay and…? They’re still my favorites?”

GL: “Wait, who’s Darla?”

Marvel: “The purple one.”

At least he likes the purple one, Darla? They haven’t seen a negative interaction between her and Cap yet. Emphasis on yet.

[explorevenus]

doll parts ♡ leon kennedy x f!reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 3.6k

description: leon may not take the best care of himself, but he certainly takes care of you. it's his favorite pastime.

tags/warnings: vendetta leon, established relationship, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dollification, daddy kink, oral sex (f receiving), mirror sex

a/n: this piece was commissioned by my lovely bestie @dollfacefantasy, who knows me so well in that she knew i was foaming at the mouth for an excuse to write dollification w leon >:3 AND it's based off of that one scene in euphoria where nate dresses cassie up LIKE GET OUTTA TOWNNNNN I WAS SO JUICED TO WRITE THIS !!!!!!!!!!!!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

You were mad. You were so mad, all the time lately, and you were past the point of wondering if you had any right to be. 

It was late, nearly half past midnight, the only sound in the dim house being the unrelenting patter of fat raindrops on the windows. Leon, too, was late, like he so often was. Of course, you weren’t allowed to complain or ask questions about his high paying job, or his whereabouts, or the secrecy, where all those injuries came from or why he didn’t return when he said he would for the hundredth time.

All your life, you thought relationships like this existed only in fiction, the trope of the distant workaholic who dismisses his partner’s concerns with nothing but his wallet and his sexual prowess, piling diamond encrusted bandages upon months worth of neglect, bottled up grievances and novels left unsaid. It was a concept confined to old movies and paperbound romances as far as you were concerned, before you met Leon.

You weren’t unreasonable, and you weren’t dumb. You had gathered that his mysterious government job really was important and strictly confidential, and you trusted that he was telling you as much of the truth as was permitted by the powers that be. You knew he cared about you, you knew he would rather be home with you than running around at the beck and call of the most powerful people in the country. You knew it was never his intention to hurt you.

But your awareness of his love for you didn’t make it any easier to swallow the unending cycle of broken promises, nor the visible deterioration of his mental and physical health while his ‘work trips’ became increasingly frequent until they all started to just blend together. 

You became numb to it after a while. It seemed selfish to demand his time and attention when he couldn’t help his circumstances. Even bringing it up made you feel like a monster, and it was all because you loved him so completely.

And you loved him so completely. You had seen him cry with laughter and sob with grief. You had seen him burn toast, fall asleep with the TV on, forget how to tie a tie, dread a mundane phone call, mumble to himself when he thought no one was listening. You knew his philosophies on life and love and death, you knew him heart and soul, and so too did he know you.

Thus, you just ate it, wore yourself down until you finally accepted that all those bottled up grievances, novels left unsaid and extravagant bribes were worth the privilege of being his lover.

Your eyes felt dry as you stared at the clock, counting in your tired mind exactly how many hours had passed since he was supposed to be home. It had been a long, rough day that would have been draining enough on its own, but the evening proved to disappoint even further. 

Leon heard about the karmic disaster that was your day through a handful of rant texts you’d sent over the course of it, each one more unfortunate than the last. Sympathetic to your senseless string of rotten luck, he promised to cut away from work an hour early to return home to you with your favorite dinner and enough doting on to make your teeth rot. He did not, of course, come home early, and not only that, but he didn’t come home at all, and you couldn’t get ahold of him.

If this wasn’t such a frequent occurrence, you might have been more worried about his safety, or even more angry at him for leaving you hanging on a day like this one, but you had become so familiar with this whole song and dance that your feelings around it were dulled.

You were just about to give up and go to bed when your phone lit up with a notification. Following the several undelivered texts you tried to send asking if he was okay, he’d given a simple response that you knew would redirect the course of your whole entire night.

Headed home in 15. Be in the dollhouse

You had long since garnered that the dollhouse was more for him than it was for you, even if he seemed to believe it was the other way around. It was nice to be pampered and doted on and styled like a Barbie, until it became a way for him to avoid talking to you about anything important. But that was neither here nor there. Dolls don’t talk, and they most certainly don’t complain.

With a deep, measured breath you exited the bedroom and turned down the hall, to what used to be a spare room but was now more aptly describable as a boudoir. The door creaked open to reveal the delicate, feminine space, heavy satin drapes blocking out any potential prying eyes. Between two solid oak wardrobes was an ornate standing mirror, the walk-in closet to the right overflowing with opulent clothing that hardly ever saw the light of day, just the familiar warmth of Leon’s cerulean eyes. 

At the other end of the room was an antique, three-mirror vanity, stocked carefully with luxury makeup, designer perfumes and every last tool one might need to style your hair, down to a box of satin ribbons in every color with which to tie it back. Leon was never one to do things half-way, and dolling you up was no exception.

Piece by piece, you stripped yourself of your clothes, hands moving as slowly and purposefully as his own would, as if by instinct. Just like a doll would be, you undressed to nothing but a pair of delicate lace panties, and you took your place at the vanity, your posture straight and your hands folded neatly in your lap.

All there was left to do now was wait for Leon, to stare at yourself blankly in the mirror and ruminate, to let your thoughts scream and echo around in your head until it would all collapse into silence, putting you in the proper headspace of an empty-headed little Barbie for Leon to play with.

You didn’t so much as flinch at the sound of the garage door opening, or move a muscle at all at the muffled thudding of his footsteps ascending the stairs. Your lips parted with a slow, deep breath, your posture straightening up one final time before the knob turned, and you watched the door open behind you through the reflection in the mirror.

He looked tired. To be candid, he looked like shit. It was evident he had left immediately from whatever dangerous, world-saving thing he was doing to rush home to you, not taking the time to change or freshen up.

Leon approached you gently, reaching over your shoulder to let his rough fingers cup your neck and throat, tilting your head up just enough to make you look at yourself, and to adjust your posture.

“Such a precious little doll, sitting so pretty for daddy,” He whispered, stooping down to plant a kiss at the crown of your head. His hands smelled like iron and gunpowder, and his breath smelled faintly of malted liquor poorly masked with mint. If only you could have confronted him about it. You just swallowed, staring straight ahead where he was directing your gaze.

Reaching over your shoulder, Leon’s steady hand plucked a detangling brush from the vanity, running his fingers through your hair carefully with his other hand. He felt through the length of your soft locks, mindful as always not to tug at any of the little knots he discovered here and there. Shortly after, he was running the brush through your hair with gentle veneration, delicate, even strokes that nearly threatened to put you to sleep.

Leon watched your expression in the mirror as your lashes fluttered, your head lolling back as if mindlessly chasing the attention. A low chuckle fell from his parted lips. “Feels good, huh? I’ll bet it does. Your hair is so messy, baby… You weren’t playing by yourself all day while daddy was gone, were you?”

He was teasing you. A subtle grin begged to tug at your lips, and you let it. Still, you were sure to shake your head ‘no’-- after all, you couldn’t have him thinking you had taken advantage of his extended absence to be naughty, even if you had been awfully tempted to. 

Carding his fingers through your freshly brushed hair, he hummed in mock consideration for a moment, like he couldn’t decide whether or not he believed you. Finally, he turned you around in your chair to face him, tilting your chin up so he could give you a kiss. “I know my baby would never. Always the perfect princess for me, even when I’m not always the perfect daddy.”

That last part came out a little quieter, like he was ashamed to even say it out loud, but somehow still, it was the loudest part to you. You softened.

He noticed, and he, too, softened. The tension in the air dissipated a bit– it was still somewhere around here, likely waiting right outside the door, but it was no longer actively present, at least. Leon gave you another sweet kiss, this one to your forehead, before gently correcting your posture again.

Pushing your hair back with a soft, fluffy headband, he opened up one of the drawers in the vanity and began to take a few things out. First, a light moisturizer, which he massaged into your skin with a jade roller that was cool to the touch and just as relaxing as always. Your moisturizer was followed by a gentle under-eye balm, a thin layer of primer and a hydrating lip oil.

The way he moved was so fluid, so methodical, like a conductor before an orchestra, and you were his masterpiece. In Leon’s eyes, you might as well have been carved out of the finest, most expensive marble, and you were to be treated no less delicately.

He stepped out just for a moment to wash his hands, a clean slate for the next step of the process, your makeup.

You honestly don’t know how he did it. Judging by some of the techniques and products he would use, you could only guess he must have been doing his research online or something, though where he found the time to do so was another question entirely. His lines weren’t always clean, his blending wasn’t always perfectly smooth, yet somehow you always still felt he’d managed to upstage you with the finished product– perhaps it was because he could see you in a way you couldn’t see yourself.

“Daddy?” You chanced a whisper, but he was quick to press a finger to the plush of your lips, ever so gently.

“Shh… Just sit nice and still for me, alright, sugar?”

You nodded, and he resumed his work with a careful touch.

Soft brushes and plush sponges worked their way around the surface of your face, applying shadow and powders and liner, with Leon holding his breath now and then to ensure a steady hand. Your cheeks were rouged, your lips were glossed, your lashes were carefully curled and it was all topped off with a cooling mist of setting spray and a gentle kiss to the forehead.

“There you are, hm? My beautiful baby dolly,” He mused, reaching forward to tilt your head up by your chin, then to the left, then to the right, checking over his handiwork from every angle. Adding a dash of blush to the tip of your nose, he deemed your makeup complete. “Just perfect.”

Slowly, Leon turned your chair around again, allowing you to look at yourself, and yeah. Wow.

You looked gorgeous, you were glowing even. All of your best features were adorned with purposeful swipes of blush, shade and highlight, your eyes dreamy and sweet, your skin smooth and radiant. He let you look at yourself for a moment, just admiring the expression of awe on you– you were always exceptionally stunning, of course, but you looked all the sweeter in these sacred moments in which you recognized your own beauty.

Leon rested one hand on your shoulder to recapture your attention, his other hand coming forward to stroke your cheek. Your long lashes fluttered as you met his eyes in the mirror, a silent signal that your focus had returned to him. Now the hand that caressed your cheekbone was coming forward to take your own. He helped you up from your seat at the vanity and across the room, to the plush chaise lounge in front of that standing mirror.

The room filled with the quiet noises of rummaging, Leon sifting through drawers and racks of hangers stuffed with what had to have been thousands of dollars worth of designer, a stark contrast to his own attire of largely plain black shirts and jeans that had seen better days.

But you were his princess. Leon was just Leon, and Leon couldn’t possibly deserve as much as a princess.

Turning over his shoulder, Leon approached you with a simple pair of white stockings in hand, sinking to his knees right before the chaise lounge to put them on you. Your ankle looked so slight and delicate in his strong hand as he lifted your leg, drawing a line of kisses up the inside of your calf to follow while he rolled the stocking up higher and higher, until the hem reached just above your knee.

He repeated the action with your other leg, the movement of his hands fluid and practiced, but his breaths were becoming shorter, his kisses a little wetter and needier on your skin. Your own breaths were quickly falling in sync with his own just by watching him dial in on your sex, his calloused hands propping your legs up onto his shoulders so he could shuffle closer.

Gripping you by the hips to angle you up to his liking, he buried his nose into the seat of your thin lace panties and breathed you in deep, as though he were starving for oxygen. The tip of his nose nuzzled forward to brush your panties aside, and just as soon as your slit was bared to him, his tongue was darting out to taste it.

He spread it flat in a slow, languid stripe from your weeping hole all the way to your throbbing clit, his lips closing around the little bundle of nerves to coax it from beneath its hood. You sucked in a breath, your manicured nails printing into the lush material of the furniture you were perched on, trying as hard as you could to keep quiet and still, to allow him to guide you, to play with you as he so desired. Luckily, he wasn’t in too stern of a mood this evening anyway– you weren’t likely to be reprimanded for small errors like that, especially not while he was otherwise occupied.

“Fuck,” He growled lowly into your cunt, leaving white prints where he gripped your pillowy thighs just to ground himself. You could feel his body growing warm as he lost himself in you, lapping up every drop of your arousal with greed. For just a moment, his dilated, denim eyes flicked up to look at you, his rosy cheeks gently squished between your quaking thighs as he puffed out, “Just look at you, my dolly… Daddy’s favorite little toy…”

Your eyes screwed shut with pleasure as his hot mouth met your center again, and when they fluttered open, you caught sight of it all in the mirror. It nearly knocked the wind out of you.

Your dainty legs spread out over your gruff boyfriend’s broad shoulders, adorned in delicate white stockings that looked pure and bright against his tight black t-shirt; his sandy blonde hair damp and messy as he wedged himself between your thighs and drank from you like a fountain; your hair and makeup fit for a gala as your expression contorted with rapture… it could have been an oil painting.

Every swipe of his tongue up the length of you, every flutter along your swollen bud, every deep, wanton, needy groan had your eyes rolling back in your head, your thighs trembling and tightening around his jaw. Every inch of you felt featherlight with electricity as he worked his magic on you, more than capable of making you cum in three minutes flat, but opting not to for the fun of it.

Not that you were complaining. At times he could get carried away in his teasing, but tonight was not one of those nights. Leon wasn’t going to waste your time dangling you over the edge much longer than was strictly necessary. As soon as he noticed you were having trouble sitting still, quiet whines and sighs of pleasure occasionally slipping out from between your glossy lips, he knew it would be unfair to string you along any further.

Leon was practically making out with your folds, the room quiet aside from the slick sounds and lustful whimpers that accompanied his dining of you. Soon it was joined with the low, husky timbre of his voice as he groaned into you, “Gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna make a pretty mess all over daddy’s face?”

In all honesty, you barely registered his words, but all it ever took to get you nodding like a bobblehead was that upward lilt in his tone that indicated he was asking you something. That was all you needed to know that the correct answer was yes.

Smirking briefly to himself as he witnessed your eager and rapt approval, he doubled the intensity of his efforts, his hands wrenching tight into your thighs to pull you flush against his face, but more importantly, to keep you from wriggling away. He didn’t bother to shush you when a shocked yelp bubbled out of you, your body jerking in response to the added stimulation. After all, it was the response he was expecting, and the response he yearned for.

Your shaking hands darted forward to claw at his hair, half-lidded eyes catching your reflection in the mirror once more. Your skin was warm, your breasts heaving as your spine drew into a fine arch and your lips parted to gasp in all the oxygen you could get to your dizzy brain, heels digging into the prominent muscles in his back. He felt every quiver and twitch of your muscles and it only spurred him on. He ate you up like you were his last meal.

Your vision went white as your climax crashed over you hard– the sounds he made were obscene, a satisfied groan vibrating from deep in his chest at the syrupy sweet taste of your arousal. It was an essence he couldn’t possibly get enough of.

As you laid there panting, your legs shaking after the tension in them released, Leon’s eyes dragged up the length of your body with pride. He carefully pulled your panties back into place with a sweet kiss to the bow in the center of them and an affectionate pat to the thigh. 

“There’s a good girl,” He hummed, crawling up from between your legs to kiss you, his mouth still warm and slightly slick with your own spend. “A perfect little doll. All I have to do is pull the right strings to get you to sing for me, huh, princess?”

Once more, you nodded, eyes fluttering shut just for a moment as he kissed your forehead. Then, he stood to his full height again, one hand taking yours and the other steadying you by the dip of your waist as he raised you up to join him, wobbly knees be damned. After all, he wasn’t finished playing dress-up yet. He took a moment to ensure you had regained your balance enough to be able to stand without assistance before opening up one of the wardrobes in search of the remainder of your outfit.

Moments like these only piqued your curiosity in terms of how his brain worked. Sure, you’d been dating for a long time and it was safe to say you knew him quite well, but his penchant for compartmentalization never ceased to astound you. He possessed the sometimes frightening ability to just switch his brain from one mode to the next.

You were brought back to reality once more by the feeling of his lips on your neck. He murmured into your ear, “Arms up, darlin’,” and he barely even finished saying it before you were complying.

You lifted your arms, and he slipped a new dress over your head. There it was, the compensation for being home late, for dropping off the face of the Earth again. The dress was flattering and soft, a delicate blush pink color with embroidered details along the bust and white lace hemming. He drew up the zipper without resistance, and as it reached its apex, the fabric hugged your form perfectly, as though the garment itself was made with you in mind.

Leon kneeled down to straighten out your stockings, and then the skirt of your dress, his eyes scanning over you meticulously in search of any little imperfections that might need fixing. Finding none, he wandered over to where he’d left his jacket, fishing a baby blue box out of the pocket. You had become quite familiar with that blue lately– Tiffany.

Nestled in the slender box was a dainty diamond necklace that now rested right at your collarbones, the clasp in the back secured with a smooch. He carded his fingers through your hair one last time before turning you around to look at yourself in the mirror, his hands rested on your hips, head stooped low to smother the crook of your throat in kisses.

“What do you think?” He whispered in your ear, nibbling gently at the shell.

“Beautiful,” You replied just as quietly, “Thank you, daddy.”

[ktkat99]

Batfam AU prompt

Tim is having fun teaching himself night photography while exploring his neighbor's family cemetery, taking spooky photos of graves and headstones in the shadows, angling the massive mansion into the background, pulling sticks and twigs and stones around as props, when suddenly he starts hearing something.

It's very faint, so he gets closer.

And closer.

Until suddenly a hand shoots up through the grass.

Tim, terrified and still holding his camera, screams and presses the button several times out of reflex.

Jason, who just woke up in a dark coffin, fought through the lid and the six feet of hard packed dirt, tearing his hands to shreds in the process to get his first breath of fresh air in years, is immediately greeted by a screaming child and a fright, flashing light in his eyes.

Causing him to scream.

Which scares Tim more.

Tim bolts back home and Jason, thinking he was just attacked and still mostly running on adrenaline and Robin instincts, chases after him.

Alfred and Bruce, hearing the screaming from the manor, come out to see what's going on and discover the hole and the empty grave.

Bruce believes that someone stole Jason's body and goes on a rampage, hunting down goons and big league criminals alike to grill for information.

Tim, who is home alone at this time, quickly realizes that the 'zombie' he found is actually just a regular teenager. Who also has amnesia.

Of course, he recognizes Jason as his neighbor's son, and also as Robin, but with how unhinged and dangerous Batman had become after Jason's death, Tim decides to hold off on telling him the truth about who he is.

Jason gets used to Tim and his house, but quickly notices just how alone the kid is and decides that if no one else is going to look after him, then Jason will just have to step up.

The two grow closer and eventually start seeing each other as brothers, with Tim going to school and bringing home books for Jason, Jason teaching Tim martial arts, etc.

Whenever the Drake's are home, Jason hides so they never know he's there.

Meanwhile, Batman still thinks someone stole Jason's body and keeps getting more and more increasingly violent and paranoid, trying to find out not only who did it and where they have Jason, but also what they're planning.

Nightwing stops coming back to Gotham due to Bruce's concerning behavior but does call Alfred to check in every now and then.

Eventually, Tim and Jason decide that Gotham needs someone to protect its citizens, and with Nightwing out of the picture and Batman being out for blood, they start working together under the names Red Hood and Red Robin.

[neigepomme]

˙ ✩°˖ ☃️ speeding hearts / zayne x reader

synopsis; you have a crush on your charming physician, and it looks like you can't hide it as well as you thought.

🍎 pomme's notes - this is my first time writing for zayne (or writing in a while), so hopefully this is not too OOC or strange!! i've got more experience writing academic papers, but i'll improve as i keep writing!!

⋆ 800 words / pure fluff / reader is gender neutral / 2nd person

"any noticeable changes since your last visit?"

you're back at the hospital after a week — some heart issues following an encounter with wanderers, nothing too serious. it would've gone unknown had it not been for that stupid hunter's watch of yours, your heart rate rose up so much, the association couldn't risk ignoring it and letting one of their elite hunters face health issues. one mandatory meeting with jenna, 3 weeks of PTO, and here you were, faced with zayne, his eyes showing concern and something else. but that might just be you. right..?

"all good, doctor zayne! i've been feeling healthier than ever", you smiled nervously.

this was stupid. you were fine, of course you were, but the sight of zayne worrying about you sent your heart into overdrive, and that seemed riskier than the wanderer encounter. stupid stupid crush. he was just so sweet, and although your text messages contained a whole lot of his nagging, you couldn't help but feel awe at his care.

was he like this with all of his patients? surely he was. despite his cold and aloof vibe, you know him. he's always put others before himself, and he probably cared about all of his patients all the same. but god, that couldn't stop your poor little heart from thrumming every time he opened his mouth to ask questions about your health. and you answered, half distracted, because how could you focus entirely on his questions about your health, when you had such a nice sight in front of you?

his pretty hazel eyes, which scanned you in search of any anomalies regarding your health.

his neatly styled hair, which you'd kill to run your fingers through.

his lips looked so soft. did he use lip balm? how would they feel on yours?

you were staring, and you knew that. get it together!! he's busy, and he probably wants to get this over with and check on his other patients. you should be a good patient and stop ogling at your physician.

"Y/N?"

"oh- yes? so sorry, i zoned out."

he hummed, eyebrows raising slightly.

"i was just letting you know i'll be checking your heartrate. the stethoscope might feel a bit cold, alright?"

as he leaned in slightly, his hand ever so steady, your brain was going hundreds of miles per hour. he's so close. his cologne smells so good.

"does your chest feel uncomfortable? your heart's been thrumming at an alarming rate."

fuck. fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck stupid stupid crush and stupid stupid stupid heart that told on you. you could feel the heat rising to your face and your cheeks getting increasingly more and more red and all you could do was laugh nervously.

"i-", you choke a bit, "i'm okay! no discomfort!! all good here!!!"

zayne frowns, clearly dissatisfied with your answer. he inhales and shakes his head a bit before speaking again.

"i'm your doctor. you don't need to hide if you feel discomfort, your face is growing more and more flush too. i'll order some more tests so we can figure this ou-"

"zayne." you interrupt him, and before you can stop yourself, your thoughts come out like a waterfall, cascading from your mouth.

"i'm fine, i promise it's just — you're just — i'm nervous. i don't have a fever, and i don't have tachycardia or whatever it is you're thinking about it's just-"

"just?"

"you're just — you're attractive!! i can't help my heart beating fast when you're looking at me like that, and i know it's stupid but i can't help it and i know that you care about all your patients the same and i'm-"

words suddenly stop coming out when you feel his cold hand over yours. you're breathing hard, only now realizing what you said, and you can feel your face turning from rosy to vermillion. now you've done it.

you lift your head slowly, to look at his face. please, please, make it so he's not weirded out, you pray silently. and when you finally make contact with his hazel eyes, you see him looking at you, oh so earnestly, his ears growing redder by the minute.

"i don't.. care about my patients all the same. i don't text my patients to nag them about their health and habits, you know."

you open your mouth, trying to say something but he speaks first.

"i'm going to finish your health report, and we can talk over dinner later. and you can tell me all about how i'm looking at you and how attractive i am and we can.. call it a first date. deal?"

his eyes soften, and he runs his thumb over your knuckles. your eyes widen slightly, and you can't help the smile that takes over your face.

"deal."

maybe your heart wasn't so stupid after all.

🍎 pomme's final notes - EEE!! baby's first post!! i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! zayne's my favorite LI (and also my ideal type) so imagining cute scenarios with him is super easy!!

my ask box is also open! do let me know if you have any cute ideas for him (or any of the LIs!) and i'd be more than happy to write a cute little thing if inspiration strikes :9

[separatetheyolk]

could you do a poly!landoscar x male!reader of aftercare with doms!oscar and lando? i read the lewis one and it was so good

This Side Of Paradise Poly!Landoscar X M!Reader

featuring: Lando norris & Oscar Piastri

Landoscar aftercare

warnings: 18+, mentions of smut but nothing too explicit mainly just in passing

note: Just a small one to get me back into writing. Sorry this took a while, I had cold after cold then spontaneous moved house lol. Still working on Charles and Carlos aftercares but this ask came through and I just had to finish this one. I haven't proof read this very well past the point of making sure it all makes sense so there will probably be quite a few spelling mistakes that I've missed. As with all my M!Reader posts this can be read as a trans!reader too, trans masc too but there is he/him pronouns and shit like 'boyfriend' used to refer to reader.

word count: 1077

requests are open!

Your head was pulled back from a cock before you had a chance to realise your breathing was growing increasingly difficult. “Okay, okay baby hey-” You heard, sounding somewhat distant. Far off despite feeling the breath run behind your ear and down your neck. It was quite disorientating in all honestly. “Okay.. baby, I need you to breathe.” You whimpered quietly as you were flipped round from your front to your back. Rearranged so you were set onto the middle of the bed and your head resting in someone's lap as they worked to undo the blindfold. “Come on.. That's it deep breaths.”

It took a moment for your eyes to adjust but once they had, you were met with an extremely concerned Lando. “Hey gorgeous..” You heard as Lando brushed hair from your eyes, but his lips weren't moving. Leading you to believe it was Oscar that was doing the talking. “Bit too much or you, hmm?” He spoke, watching you lift your head to look to him. His gaze meeting your own.

“I can take it..” You insisted. Wincing from just how harsh your voice sounded, moving to sit up but a tanned hand on your chest prevented you from moving any further. You couldn't help but let a frustrated whine slip past your lips.

“Baby, you don't have to.. This isn't some game where you have to prove yourself.. You've done more than enough for us. Just lie back and relax. We’ll take care of the rest.” Lando insisted, giving you a stern look that held no room for retaliation. You decided it didn't suit him at all. 

“Just relax, hmm?” This time Oscar spoke, hand resting on your shoulder and directing you to a free spot on the bed beside the driver. You couldn't argue.. The bed did look pretty inviting. So, albeit reluctantly, you moved to the spot and allowed Oscar to pull the blankets over your body. Closing your eyes, you felt the weight on the mattress shift as both men stood. Followed by the sound of a dresser drawer opening, then the rustling of clothes. A few minutes later and the weight of one of them was back beside you. “C’mere, gorgeous..”

You opened your eyes to find Oscar back beside you. Now dressed in some clean boxers. You moved over to him, allowing him to guide you so you were set between his legs, arms wrapping around one of his thighs like it was a pillow or large teddy bear and set your head in the crook where said thigh joined his hip. “There we go.. comfy?” He asked. And all you could manage was a nod as eyes closed again.

You didn't notice Lando watching the two of you from the other side of the room until you heard the others footsteps as he made his way over. You heard the two men share a gentle kiss, hand running through your hair to show you some affection too. “I take it you're too tired for a bath, hmm?” Lando asked you, looking down to you as you nodded your head. Your eyes remaining closed. “Alright.. You just stay here. I'll be right back.”

And, like before, the other left your side. A sinking feeling began to set in with guilt accompiening it. “M’ sorry..” You whispered after a beat of silence.

“What for, baby?” Oscar asked, accent thick and a strong difference compared to Lando’s. “You’ve done nothing wrong..”

“Ending the session early.. I wanted to do more for you..” You whispered, feeling like you'd left the two neglected. All this moving from track to track, it made it hard for the three of you to find time in Oscar and Lando’s busy schedules. When Winter break came around it often felt like a whole new paradise. And you wanted to make up for lost time.

Oscar chuckled slightly, moving so you were no longer in between his legs and shuffled to join you lying down. “You were perfect.. In every way. It's a lot to take two at once. Not to mention you haven’t done it in a while. But you still took us both perfectly. Besides, we were at it for hours baby.”

“But I-”

“But nothing, pretty boy.. You were perfect. Done so good for us..”

You couldn’t help but turn your face into the palm that was running through your hair. You didn’t nod in agreement but you also didn’t shake your head. So Oscar took that as a very small win. A few moments later, you felt Lando’s presence enter the room again, confirmed as a hand ran up and down your arm, small kisses soon being pressed to the back of your neck. “Can you sit up for a minute, baby?” Lando mumbled, feeling you nod slowly.

With help from both men, you were moved to an upright position, looking down to see baby wipes and a damp cloth set on the bed. Embarrassment washed over you as the two of them began wiping you down, baby wipes to get rid of most of the grime, cloth following closely behind. They almost seemed to sense the embarrassment. How you wanted to curl up into yourself, feeling as hands ran over your skin, massaging muscles and kisses pressed wherever the two of them could reach. Trying to get you to relax. A bath or preferably a shower if you could stand would be a must in the morning, but right now this would do.

Once you were wiped down, Lando helped to get you into one of his shirts while Oscar stripped the bed and took the sheets downstairs and to the wash room. While down there, he decided to make a quick detour to grab the trio a bottle of water each. By the time he’d came back to the bedroom, Lando had threw away used condoms, had set on some clean bedding and gotten you settled into bed.

He handed Lando two bottles of water once he’d gotten under the covers. The British man uncapping yours and carefully handing it over. Oscar slipped into bed on your right, letting you get comfy again as you lent into Lando’s side. Oscar then leaning into yours. “You get some sleep, baby..” you heard from Lando, though your eyes already half shut and the hold on the bottle loosening. You felt as the bottle was removed from your hand, the bedside lamp turned off.

[cleolinda]

Weekend links, July 6, 2025

My posts

Guess what? I'm going to be having a chat with my spinal clinic about some side effects from that epidural pain block a couple weeks ago. Thus, we didn't have a linkspam last Sunday, and I'm working from a larger pool of posts this week. Also, I am behind on everything. Enjoy. 

Side note, Ian's Silent Hill 2 stream of Toluca Prison (and an hour's discussion of storytelling with Vic Frederick) went up two Wednesdays ago. (He's now taking a month off while I pick up the [my] slack.) I made it to chat, despite shaking off anesthesia. And I'm glad I did because the first major fight was... something I've never seen before, I'll put it that way. I now have a new goal for when my videos get there. 

Meanwhile, remember how I posted about horror as comfort media? These people get it.

Reblogs of interest

Pride parade, Budapest, 100k+ people marching: "the perfect example of 'they can’t arrest all of us'" 

Niagara Falls lit up in rainbow; a lovely bisexual moon.

Important food recalls and news sources for the United States

How to Disable and Remove All AI Features in Mozilla Firefox. Et tu, Mozilla?

After 40 years of being free Microsoft has added a paywall to Notepad. No, I actually expected that from y'all. With links/recs for Libre Office. 

By the way, Shel Silverstein foresaw gen AI

"i think all quiet on the western front and the lord of the rings are in direct conversation with each other," with bonus Narnia shell craters. That sounds flippant, but I really think everybody here is onto something. 

Disney Reportedly Planning Full Reboot of the Indiana Jones Franchise, and Bluesky has some ideas

"To be TRULY fluent in English you must know your SHITS"

"i am not immune to the bit. i’m gonna have to go full mingo aren’t i."

I remember these MTV Video Music Awards Posters from 1999. Yes, the late '90s were exactly Like That.

Putting the CERN back in "concerned," Molly Bair wearing Iris van Herpen inside the CERN Large Hadron Collider. Listen, you know shit ain't been the same since that weasel. You get out of there right now.

"a redditor has mushrooms growing out of his home's electrical sockets" and it's not good. It's Not Good!

"True Gym Bros while flexing their jaws: Come Bro, join us in the Gainshalla"

Prosper, feather beast

"Call me Cismale"

Go in the wet. The wet will love you. The wet doesn't have capitalism. Just go in the wet.

"IT WAS NOT THE FUCKING COLONIALISM THAT INVENTED THE FUCKING POTATO."

"Dude’s out here trying to solve House of Leaves. I give it to page 120 before the actual minotaur gets him." No one has read this book so purely in its own spirit as this one beleaguered guy reading it in French with graph paper and a middle finger.

I am pretty sure I will grab Date Everything if there's a good discount on Steam

"spn Fandom perfec t fun for put new fan in to e\njoy show! inside very Nice and Comfort new fan enjoy fun put new fan in Spn Fandom." (I never get my "mouth perfect size for meme" tag right on the first try)

Tag yourself, I'm the Taylor Swift lyric "some guy said my aura's moonstone, just 'cause he was high"

Art: "The important questions of what if bird were fruit"

"Girl help the pessimists are mistaking an inherently meaningless universe for an inhumane and joyless one rather than recognizing the opportunity to make one’s own meaning and joy and to spread those things to others"

"girl help they’re decoding my cat"

He's all in

A brooch of a fabulous creature

HONSE

Video

"Someday Amaury Guichon is going to release a video where creates a life sized statue of a human being, but as he adds detail, it becomes increasingly clear that the chocolate model is becoming more and more akin to a perfect replica of the viewer"

The painstaking restoration of a wedding dress from 1950

This is not how I expected you'd make magnolia blossom ice cream

"they removed capybara walking (1887) from letterboxd so i’m letting it live on my blog forever"

Knitted sheep, animated

One of the deans at Beijing Dance Academy shows you how it's done

Pre-Colonial Filipino clothing revivalists out on the town

The sacred texts

Children’s Hospital Colour Theory

Dogs in Elk

Personal tags of the week

I'm going to say food, but it was actually a good bit of #chocolate. Also, Pride Month, since it wrapped up while I was still recovering.