#...and i would just really love to be away from them for good (even though my parents are divorced and i hardly see my dad)

[plethorawrites]

How would the vampire Batboys react if their GN human partner/reader offers them their blood? Maybe reader offers because the boys aren’t lookin’ good/aren’t drinking enough as they should, or maybe reader offers as a way to show them their trust, or build intimacy? :3c

Yes!! I did something similar with Dick previously, but I can totally see this concept with the others as well. (TW: Mention of blood)

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---

Bruce: Deep down, I think he'd always imagined feeding from you one day. Maybe as some fantasy or maybe a part of him just knew you well enough to know you'd offer. It wouldn't phase him much, but he'd be elated internally. Still tender, though. He'd make sure you had a glass of wine or tea or something beforehand and sit you in his lap, having you lean your head against his shoulder to expose your neck and he'd definitely hold it firmly the entire time, even when you started to squirm in pain.

Dick: Like in a previous post, I think he'd limit his use of drinking from his partner because he's worried about losing control/getting addicted. It's a treat or a desperate measure and he has to really focus on your heartbeat and how hard you're gripping his arm to make sure you're not starting to panic or lose too much blood. Afterwards, it would just be continuous praise, thanking you over and over and muttering how much he loves you and how he promises to never take too much from you.

Jason: Is terrified when you suggest it. He's spent his whole life being viewed as a monster, even in his own eyes and once finding someone who doesn't immediately fear him, he doesn't want to ever risk making you change your mind. But he's lethargic, out of blood bags in the fridge, and too tired to go find a fresh source. You're right there; of course it makes sense. He's still apprehensive the entire time, physically in pain when he keeps himself from indulging but refuses to let himself. Instead, every single sharp inhale or slight whimper of pain makes him stop, even if it hurts, to check on you.

Tim: Has to do a double take, making sure he'd heard you correctly. But when you nod a second time, his open jaw closes, turning into a grin. He wouldn't pounce right away, not wanting to seem too eager, even if he was. But a few days later, when you're over, cuddling in his bed, he'd be tracing your neck like he often did, imagining how it would taste. His breath would be warm when he whispers in your ear, asking you if you would let him have a snack. Of course you would nod. And of course he would take your hand, letting you squeeze it as tightly as you needed to when he sunk his fangs into your neck, humming in content, just leaving them there for a moment. He adored the puncture marks that lingered for a week.

Damian: Would be confused, at first. He'd stop in the middle of whatever he was doing— training, getting ready for bed, etc. and just stare. You were his partner, not his blood bag. Why would he put you in a position where he could hurt you when he was meant to protect you? It takes some explaining from you, telling him how you want to know what it feels like and for him to know you trust him, that he even entertains the thought. He's still hesitant, but at your request and his own hunger, he tries. He has to pause when you make a sound of pain, but doesn't stop until he's satisfied and you're dizzy. Then, he just wraps his arms around you, kissing the puncture marks to erase the remaining blood.

[cherryheairt]

Guilty Pleasure

Pairing: Salesman/recruiter x reader

Request: Already in an established relationship, reader and Salesman have occasional game nights or simply reader wants to play ddakji, and at some point Salesman forgets himself and automatically slaps reader. Immediately feels bad and tries to make up for it. Whether or not reader knows he's a recruiter I leave up to you.

Fake name given to Salesman.

It wasn't often that your husband got to spend time at home with you. Even when he was off from his evening salary job (which was rare) you were working in the days. On weekends, you consider yourself lucky if you got at least a few hours together. When you finally did, you both made sure to make the most of it and spend your time making valuable memories.

Seo-joon got paid generously, and even though he was vague about his exact job description, you had learned that he really only cared to spend it on you. Expensive dinners at five star restaurants, vacations to foreign countries, a luxurious night out for couples massages and wine-tasting events. You didn't much care for what the activity was, so long as you were together. Seo-joon seemed to think the same, but loved seeing your smile when spoiling you rotten.

This weekend, you noticed how tired he seemed from his long hours of the week. Instead of going out and being in the public eye, you asked him to wait for you at home while you finished up your own work. With a raised brow, he submitted to your request without a complaint and finished up chores at home while you went out to do your own errands.

Groceries, done.

Car note, paid.

Dinner for tonight, secured in your hand.

The two ddakji folded papers in your other hand, also secured.

Tonight you were determined to let your husband sit back and relax. Movies, candy, and a little childhood throwback to ease his stressed mind.

“I'm home,” you called softly, kicking off your shoes and replacing them with slippers at the entrance. Your little cat, Ink, rubbed against your legs and mewed for attention. Seo-joon stood up from the couch, putting down his phone after a hurried goodbye to his, presumably, boss. He wasted no time in greeting you, carefully stepping around Ink and wrapping his hands around your waist, kissing the corner of your mouth on each side before finally connecting your lips together. His little tradition, for ‘good luck’ he said.

The tint of peach lip gloss transferred to his lips but he never bothered to wipe it, instead rubbing his lips together and savoring the familiar taste of you. “Welcome back.” He said in a low murmur, hugging you to his chest.

You giggled at the affection, missing him just as much as he missed you. “I have a surprise planned for you.” You started, lifting the concealed bags in between you two.

He pulled away, tilting his head ever so slightly while eyeing the bags. “Hm? What is it?” Typically, he preferred to plan the dates and surprises as he always said was traditional and gentlemanly, but any little treat you brought him home always made his eyes light up in a way that made your own heart melt.

“You've been so busy lately, I thought it would be nice for a night in. I got some takeout and ddakji!” You hummed pleasantly, placing the two bags on the small dining table. With an arm still around your waist and lying on your hip, you felt him tense almost imperceptibly.

Turning to face him, he looked almost pale in the light of the evening. “Seo-joon?” You asked, rubbing the back of your hand on his cheek. “What's wrong, are you feeling sick?”

Easily, he took your hand in his own and kissed it, leading it back to your side and shaking his head. Chuckling, he answered, “I just didn't expect to hear that. I haven't played ddakji since I was young.”

Beaming, you nodded. “Me too! I thought it might be a fun throwback.” As you plated the takeout, Seo-joon set the table with silverware and pulled out your seat.

After some debriefing about your day, Seo-joon and you finished your meals and relaxed into the sofa cushions, playing a rom-com drama movie and simply settled into each other's company. His scent was still fresh even after he changed from his formal attire into a more comfortable turtleneck sweater and sweatpants. With your face buried in his neck and breath brushing over his skin with each exhale, Seo-joon couldn't help but coo at your sleepy eyes.

“Are you ready for bed, dear?” He asked quietly, brushing hair behind your ear to get it out of your eyes.

Jumping up, you blinked away all tiredness and rapidly shook your head. Seo-joon's eyes widened and sat up to watch you flounce around the room from the table and back to the couch.

Holding out both hands, you revealed the two ddakji papers to him. One was a bright blue and the other a deep purple. “You can pick your color.” You gestured, eager to play the game.

Slowly, almost hesitant if you didn't know your husband well, he grabbed the purple and stood up, slightly looking down at you as he did. “Since I picked, you can go first.” He straightened up his sweater as if it were his usual grey-blue suit, muscle memory coming into play with every movement he made.

You nodded, looking down at his paper on the floor before questioning: “What is the prize for winning?”

He thought for a moment. “How about a kiss on the cheek?” He tapped his own cheekily, eyes squinted with amusement as you wasted no time agreeing.

Slapping the blue paper down, you laughed with satisfaction as the purple one flipped completely over. “First try!” You exclaimed. Seo-joon chuckled, picking up the blue and getting ready for his own turn.

With a loud ‘slap!’ he flipped his, too. It looked almost effortless, as if he had played the childhood game a mere day ago instead of years.

“The stakes raise…” you murmur, slapping your own one down yet again. It flipped, and somehow you both managed to hit each other's papers perfectly for multiple rows at a time.

Sighing, you almost felt tired with the exertion of throwing and picking up at rapid paces.

With a responding smack, you frowned when you realized you were the first to lose. “Aw—”

SMACK

You registered the sound before the pain. Clutching your cheek, you could only stare wide-eyed at the man in front of you, who bore the same expression verbatim.

It was silent for a long moment.

Then another.

And another.

Then, he finally unfroze. He stepped forward to caress your face in both of his hands, brows furrowed so tight that you thought he might burst a blood vessel. “Fuck. I'm so, so sorry, my love. That was an accident, I swear that on everything—”

Your resounding giggle cut him off. You held his wrists in a loose grip, face buried in his chest as you uncontrollably laughed at the silliness of the situation. Seo-joon would never actually hurt you with ill intent, this you knew for certain, but the absolute absurdity of him instinctively slapping you after you lost a game of ddakji was probably the funniest thing that had happened to you for months.

Seo-joon’s hands hovered over your shoulders in the meanwhile, unsure of whether to touch you or continue profusely apologizing to you.

“Seo-joon, did you and your friends slap each other as punishment?” You managed to wheeze out through your laughs.

His completely tensed up body loosened slightly after you said that. He sighed one long and extremely grateful sigh. “Yeah, something like that.” He said vaguely. “Are you okay?” He lifted your face up to inspect it closely, the mark left behind already fading in both appearance and pain.

You bit your cheek at his cute consideration, kissing his nose and lips after running your hands through his once neat hair. “I'm just fine. That was fun, we could keep going—”

“Absolutely not.” He said firmly, though he let a slightly amused exhale leave his lungs.

You only snorted, kissing the apple of his cheek and tugging him to the bedroom. “Come on, it's not like you've never slapped me before.”

It was his turn to be completely stunned and silent.

Listening to Guilty Pleasure and After Midnight by Chappell Roan im so hooked

this was amusing to write, sorry it's pretty short aha

[munsonsmixtapes]

That's My Man

rockstar!eddie x popstar!reader

Eddie defends you in an interview and you repay him in the most generous way

cw: MDNI (18+) oral (m receiving) handjob, the interviewer makes some inappropriate comments about reader

This is a request made my the always lovely @the-witty-pen-name who also came up with the title!

Eddie puts on the pair of headphones that were pervaded for him as the “on air” sign glows the bright red, signaling that the show has started. He doesn’t even know why he even agreed to this interview. The guy’s an ass and Eddie just knows that he’s inevitably going to say something inappropriate. 

He’s really only doing this because his team begged him to. Why, he doesn’t know since the majority of the band’s fanbase hates the kind of guy that Rick is. He’s everything in the book that Eddie can’t stand and now he’s gotta sit here for an hour for his segment. It can’t be too bad, can it? 

“Eddie, welcome,” Rick greets and Eddie puts on a smile even though all he really wants is to kick Rick’s ass. He’s unfortunately caught clips of the show here and there and all he does is sexualize women and talk badly about people of color and members of the LGBTQ+ community. 

“Hey, thanks,” Eddie replies, trying his best to not say something he really shouldn’t. He just sits there and waits for Rick to start the conversation. 

“So you’ve got a new album out which is “From the Upside Down.” What was the process like for creating the record?” Eddie’s genuinely caught off guard by the question considering that Rick never seems to care about that kind of thing. Maybe this won’t be as bad as he initially thought. 

“It was actually so different from what we’ve done for past albums. We actually did everything ourselves this time and that was really fun. We took some time off and wrote a bunch of songs and Gareth actually produced them so that was a really cool process to see.” 

Eddie loves talking about his music. It’s like a parent talking about their child. He’s always so proud of himself and his bandmates for what they do and he doesn’t think that’s ever going to change. They worked so hard to get where they are now and he’s nothing but grateful that this is his job. 

“That’s very interesting,” Rick nods and there’s just something about the look on his face that makes it obvious that he’s about to say some dumb shit. “So I know you’re seeing y/n l/n and can I just say, well done, man.” Yep, definitely some dumb shit. 

Eddie can’t help but roll his eyes. Normally, Eddie would love to talk about you. It’s actually his favorite thing to do. But not like this, not in the way that Rick and a lot of other men like to. Where they just sexualize you and reduce you to an object. Eddie won’t stand for that for anyone, but especially not you. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say that I’m “seeing” her,” Eddie laughs nervously. You’ve been trying to keep your relationship under wraps for the past six months but it’s so hard to do when the two of you are under a microscope. 

“Oh, so you wouldn’t categorize this as seeing her?” Rick asks as he pulls up a photo of you and Eddie kissing outside a bar. He didn’t even know that anyone had taken photos of that and now he feels gross.

“Well-” he tries to explain himself but Rick quickly cuts him off. 

“Is she a good kisser? Better yet, is she good in bed?” All of this makes Eddie want to throw up and he can’t believe that men like Rick actually have the audacity to ask questions like that. 

“I don’t feel comfortable answering that,” he answers politely even though he’s seconds away from a crash out. 

“C’mon, you can tell me. It’s just us.” It’s actually not considering it’s a live radio show and even if it wasn’t, that’s something just between you and Eddie and no one else. Especially not pigs like Rick. 

“No, I’m not sharing anything about our relationship. That’s the only thing we have that’s ours.” 

“Is she flexible? I bet she’s flexible.” He shows Eddie a photo of you doing a split on stage and his lunch is about to come up. “Oh yeah, definitely-” 

Rick doesn’t even have time to finish his sentence before Eddie snatches the tablet and slams it down on the table. He would never let any woman be talked about this way. Especially not his girlfriend. 

The anger is festering and he’s having a real hard time trying to keep his cool. Fuck that. He’s not going to be so nice anymore, not wanting anymore disgusting things to be said about you. He can’t let anything else be said about you or he’s going to do something he regrets. 

“Don’t talk about her like that,” he points at Rick, glaring at the man and the man actually looks afraid of him. Good. “I know you tend to objectify women and that shit stood today. If I ever hear you talk about anyone else this way or in a derogatory manner, you’ll have me to answer to. Now keep my wife’s name out of your mouth or we’re going to have a problem.” 

With that, out of the room. Nothing is worth sitting there and letting that man sexualize you. It makes him feel disgusting and now he feels like he needs a long shower. He’s wiping his jacket with his hands to try to literally get rid of that feeling, but he knows the only thing that will help is seeing you. He just needs someone to talk to about the whole thing. 

He’s driving to the venue where you’re performing tonight before he can stop himself. He just wants to hold you in his arms and tell you how much he loves you, hoping that you haven’t been listening to the radio even though he’s sure that you are because you always listen to his interviews. 

Eddie’s so angry about the whole thing, still letting it eat at him even though he already took care of it. He just needs to calm down and he will as soon as he sees you. That always makes him feel better. Just thinking about you is doing the trick and when he pulls up to the venue, the weight on his shoulders is lifting.

You’re sitting in your dressing room, doing your makeup when he walks in, your face lighting up when you see him in the mirror. The anger on his face seems to melt away when he sees you, his smile matching yours as he makes a beeline for you. He saw you just this morning but the time you’ve spent away was far too long. 

You get up from your chair and he’s quick to pull you into a hug, a tight one as he buries his face into your neck. This is all he’s wanted all day, especially since he stormed out of the interview. You always seem to calm the screaming that’s constantly going on in his head. Your hand moves up into his hair, scratching at his scalp as he kisses your neck, moving your hair away from it as he does so. 

You pull away far too soon for his liking before pulling him in for a kiss. He’s needy and desperate and he just wants to show you how much he loves you. Your hands are in his hair as you lick into his mouth, moaning loudly which is only making him harder. He needs your cunt so bad and is so close to taking you right there until you begin to grind against him. 

“I heard what you said on the radio,” you tell him as you kiss down his neck, unbuttoning his jeans. “Defending me like that, it was so…hot,” you whisper the last part into his ear before biting down on the lobe before kissing his neck again, giving it a rough suck, making him squirm. 

You’re backing him up against the vanity, pinning him there as you continue to suck, his hands falling from you to grip the table behind him, white knuckling it as he lets out a whine, his cock hardening even more to the point where you can now fully feel him against you. 

“Now I feel like I owe you.” He defended you and you know it’s because you’re his wife, but you know that he would do that for anyone and that’s how you know you got one of the good ones. 

“You-you don’t owe me anything, sweetheart,” he breathes. He really wants whatever you’re willing to give but only if you really want to not because you think he deserves in return for defending you.

“How about I suck you off, is that payment enough?” His eyes widen at both your question and the way you’re biting down on him. 

“Please,” he whines, needing to get some sort of relief. You give his neck one more kiss before pulling down his jeans, his underwear following as you get down onto your knees. You’re looking up at him with lustful eyes and he watches you, wondering what you’re going to do next. 

You start by spitting into your hand then grab hold of the base, slow strokes to warm him up but they progressively get more intense. He’s already leaking with precum, letting out stuttered breaths as he watches, white knuckling as a moan escapes his lips. 

You keep up the pace, moving as fast as you can as Eddie lets out moan after moan. He’s coming undone already so you know he won’t last long. And you only have a few more minutes before you have to be on stage, so you’ve gotta make it worthwhile. You’ve really gotta make this count. 

You bring your tongue to the slit, licking up the cum that’s already come out, not wanting to waste a drop then bring your lips to the base, kissing it which catches Eddie off guard. You’re now peppering it with kisses and he somehow gets even more hard as he watches you leave lipstick prints behind. It’s hot. You’re hot and he thinks this is where he likes you most, on your knees.

You then bring your mouth back to the slit, licking it again before bringing it into your mouth, sucking lightly as Eddie’s hands wind into your hair, letting out yet another whine as you bring him in deeper, sucking harder as your tongue swirls around the head. You’re taking him inch by inch and he’s so close, on the edge of an orgasm as you finally get the last bit of him inside. 

Cum leaks into your mouth as he screams your name, your eyes watering as the head hits the back of your throat, gagging as you suck him off for just a bit longer. Tears are streaming down your cheeks as you pull him out of your mouth with a loud pop, making sure to swallow as he helps you to your feet. 

Eddie pats your tears dry with a tissue so as to not smudge your makeup before you press a lingering kiss to his lips. You clean him up before pulling up his pants and touching up your lipstick.

“How’s that for repaying you?” You ask and he smiles, still dizzy from receiving the best head of his life as he follows you to the side of the stage, wondering how he can get you to do that again once your show is over. He’s sure that you won’t need much convincing.

[taeaura]

Thomas Hewitt | Possessiveness, Desperation, and Jealousy

Yeah...Thomas has attachment issues lololol

Thomas' possessiveness is really just a progression of his desperation. For example:

Stay with me, I don't want you to leave

Mutates into

You're my possession - Of that, my love, there really is no question

Okay, yeah, I'm using lyrics to get my point across, so what?

Because of his low self-esteem, Thomas gets jealous without realizing it. He's anxious about his potential future with his S/O, with constant worries surrounding abandonment and comparison.

What if you get hurt? What if you push too far, explore too deeply and find something you hate? What if turn to hate him? He can't have that. No, no, no, no, not here; Not now.

You really are his special someone. He's in love with you, his Momma'll make sure to tell you. Thomas' favorite thing is how sweet you are with him; Buttering him up with compliments {all of which you find to be true statements, though he disagrees}, and variations of physical affection. One thing that never fails:

"You're so handsome, Tommy."

Goddd, does it make him blush. He gets all giddy and shy - a bit aroused, depending on the situation.

What if that stops? What if when he finally reveals himself, you run away? You scream and shriek in terror? Is he really that ugly?

What if I make you feel sick?

That's a question he asks himself a lot. You're all he has {outside of the family}, and he plans to keep it that way {excluding potential future children}.

I explored this a bit in a previous post:

'You can't leave. I won't leave you leave - I have nothing. I'll prove to you how good I am - How good I can be, I swear. You can live with us on this farm, just like momma always dreamed of. You're not leaving me; Not after you've met momma, not after the countless times you've saved me from callous assholes out here. No - I couldn't..' -- He had to keep you. Keep you here; In the basement; In the barn; Maybe in a spare bedroom - His bedroom. It didn't matter. You could would not leave.

_____

At the root of his issues, Thomas is a scared, concerned, insecure man who's been starved of proper connection. Healthy, reciprocated emotions that don't burn out when he does something wrong. Once he's found someone worth opening up to, he'll treasured them. After years of believing they'd never meet, here they are.

Are you an angel? Have I been rewarded?

Or has the Devil sending one of his succubi to ravish me down to the rings of Wrath and Ptolemaea?

Although Thomas' thoughts are not as religiously-driven as those above, he often treads in waters of similar questioning:

Do I deserve this? - Am I being tricked? - They'll leave eventually..

--

Overtime, his anxiety turns to desperation - And soon, that desperation turns into jealousy.

Someone could compliment you, and it'd set him off. Especially if it's a man. He's so scared you'll find someone better than him, and he's envious of how easy it is not only for you to interact with people, but how easy it is for them to interact with you. He wants to interact with you so badly! He wants to tell you how beautiful you are, how grateful he is for you {even if you two aren't in a relationship yet}. He wishes he was approachable - Not that he's comfortable with causal conversation, but he wishes it was plausible in his situation.

--

One afternoon, a {soon to be} victim complimented you; 'Called you 'attractive' in whatever fancy way they put it. You scoffed a bit, albeit amused, followed by a small 'thank you.' - Boy, Thomas couldn't've been more peeved. How dare you? After all he's done to make you comfortable? Really, this is how you repay him?

He had to take a minute to himself, realizing how irrational he sounded. How were you supposed to know the sacrifices he made? It's not like he could tell you..though he wishes he could, just so you would be proud of him.

After his anger calmed down, he was left guilty and worrisome - It wasn't anyone's fault. The stranger couldn't have known his feelings for you, and he doubted you're aware either. That being said, that 'charming' victim made a delicious dinner that night ;)

_____

Thomas thought he had his emotions under control, but he was greatly mistaken. Momma had sent you out to grab things from the {wilting} garden just a few minutes prior; You'd gained enough trust from her to be left unsupervised outside - Though, she kept tabs on you though the windows.

Thomas was just finishing up in the basement when he walked up to the main floor; Oddly enough, he was looking for you. One random evening {a day he couldn't quite remember}, he'd overheard you talking to Henrietta about a locket you had once - A dainty one that complimented your skin ethereally. One of the victims, a nice gal from out of town, had a locket similar to the one you described; And he planned on giving it to you.

As he searched around the home, he found no trace of you. His anxiety quickly picked up; What if you'd left? No, Momma wouldn't lose you that easily, you'd have to be somewhere. He made his way outside, carelessly throwing the front screen doors open, albeit a bit aggressive. After a few minutes of pacing, he finally found you in the garden - Just as you were supposed to be.

The knot in his stomach relaxed, just as his shoulders did. There you were: Safe and content. He clutched the locket within his right hand, the chain dangling from his stressed fingers.

Unbeknownst to you, Thomas stood a few feet away, just..staring. His mind raced with incoherent thoughts: Would you like the gift? What if you were confused, or even worse, disgusted? What if the locket wasn't to your liking? He was quickly pulled from his thoughts when you finally noticed him.

"Hi, Thomas." You acknowledged, he really was just some big, awkward hunk, huh? "Did you need something?"

He quickly shook his head, bringing his hand forward. He twisted his wrist so his palm could face upward, revealing the locket.

You wiped some sweat off your forehead with your dirt-covered gloves and stood up. Your knees had gotten a bit dirty, but your pants provided a solid-enough layer between skin and soil.

"Is this for me?" You naively asked. Of course it was for you, he wouldn't just hand something to you that he intended on keeping.

He nodded, slightly nudging his hand closer as if to say 'take it.' - Which you did.

"Might be a bit difficult to put on, the jump ring's a bit small."

Were you..asking him to help? Was that it? He wasn't too sure, but he took the chance anyway. He gently grasped the split chain, folding it cautiously around your neck. He fumbled a lot with the chains..he didn't know how to handle such a small mechanism despite his sewing hobby; But eventually, he connected the jump rings.

You adjusted the locket to your liking, turning to face him with a thankful smile painted amongst your face.

"Thank you, Tommy."

Oh god..there it was. You knew he liked being called 'Tommy', you must've. He felt teased, just a bit. Mostly shy, though. He swallowed and gave a small nod.

Gosh, you were gorgeous, at least he thought so. He wanted so badly to tell you - Just like that piece of shit victim previously had. Okay..they weren't that bad, but he didn't want to acknowledge that. His jealously started to fester again, soon overriding his yearning.

God fucking damnit, why do I have to be so restricted? He thought to himself, an anger bubbling beneath him.

"Are you alright?" You hesitantly asked, tilting your head just a bit.

Was he alright? No, he was not 'alright.' He felt silenced. Restricted in his own body. How hard could it be to tell you how much he liked that locket on you?

His throat strained, trying to make any sensible noise - Yet all that came out were gurgles and incoherent mumbles. He shook his head, obviously overwhelmed and fed up. Instead of straining too hard, he pointed at the necklace and nodded - He really did think you were the most beautiful creature in the word, the locket only amplified that.

"You like it?"

He nodded once more.

"Aw; Well, thank you, Tommy. That's very kind of you."

He nodded a final time, making a mental decision: You were never going to leave him. He'd do anything and everything to make you happy, including small things like this.

That piece of shit nobody couldn't treat you like I could; They'd only make you happy chopped up, seared, and served right at the dinner table.

He'd make sure that would never happen to you. That no one besides him or the family would make you laugh, cry, smile; Not like he could. You two would be one, one way or another - Even in death. He'd make sure of that.

_____

Boo lame boo 🍅🍅🍅

I'm not too proud of the one-shot but my brain isn't giving me anything different.

We will, however, get more possessive Tommy as I finished up pt. 2 of Proprietorial 😈

[meadowfics]

I love your kang family series. Can I request a story of reader being in labor and Daeho being her rock thru it all and maybe even have some bits about how great he is helping her once they arrive home with a newborn. I live for domestic daeho - I love your writing!! If you don’t want to write this, that’s totally cool too lol

I wrote it :D I love this concept <3

seoah's and byeol's birth headcannons:

kang dae ho x f!reader for the kang family series

seo-ah was born exactly four months after the nightmare of the games ended.

you and dae-ho had been trying to put yourselves back together, trying to find normalcy in a world that no longer felt as stable as it once did.

your daughter is your light, the one thing that reminded you both that there was something good waiting for you on the other side of survival.

labor was terrifying, but not because of the pain though.

you had endured worse.

it was because you had never felt so vulnerable before.

this was different from fighting for your life.

this was bringing a new life into the world, one that you and dae-ho were responsible for protecting.

dae-ho was your rock through every contraction, every wave of pain that crashed through you.

he held your hand so tightly, whispering reassurances in your ear.

“you’re so strong, baby. you’ve been through so much, and you’re still here. you can do this. i know you can.”

he refused to leave your side. even when the nurses suggested he take a break, get some food, stretch his legs...he wouldn’t hear it.

“she’s doing all the work. i can sit here.”

the fear was there, though.

not of the labor, but of the world outside this hospital.

you and dae-ho had survived something most people could never comprehend.

now, you were bringing your daughter into this world.

one that had already shown you its cruelest side.

would she be safe? would she ever have to suffer the way you did?

then, the moment she was born, all of that fear melted away.

the second she let out her first cry, the second her tiny body was placed on your chest, it was like nothing else mattered.

she was real. she was yours. she was safe.

dae-ho cried.

he tried to hold it back, but when he saw her, so small, so perfect, his whole body trembled with emotion.

he kissed your forehead repeatedly, his voice breaking as he whispered,

“you did it. you did so good. she’s beautiful. she’s ours.”

he counted all of her little fingers and toes like they might disappear if he didn’t memorize them right then and there.

when you were too exhausted to hold her, he took over immediately, cradling her with the softest look in his eyes.

“hey, baby girl,”

he murmured, his voice thick with love.

“i’m your appa.”

he never put her down.

the nurses had to tell him to rest, but he just sat in the chair beside your hospital bed, watching over both of you, like he was afraid that if he blinked too long, this would all disappear.

once you were discharged, the reality of being home with a newborn hit hard.

neither of you had slept properly in days, and yet, dae-ho never complained. not once.

he handled the diaper changes when your body was too sore to move, holding seo-ah carefully like she was made of glass.

he rocked her in his arms when she was fussy, pacing the bedroom in slow steps, humming softly to soothe her.

“i got her, baby,”

he whispered when you stirred in the middle of the night, hearing the soft cries of your newborn.

“go back to sleep. you need rest too.”

you never wanted to sleep, not really.

you just wanted to watch them, watch your husband, the man who had been through hell and back, holding your daughter with so much love, so much devotion.

the games had hardened you both, made you see the world in a different way.

when you looked at seo-ah, she was proof that there was still softness left.

dae-ho told her stories while she lay in his arms, even though she was too young to understand.

“your eomma is the bravest person i know,”

he’d whisper against her tiny head.

“she saved us both. you have no idea how lucky you are to have her.”

he took pictures of you with seo-ah whenever he could, knowing you’d be too tired to think about it yourself.

“i don’t want you to forget these moments,”

he said when you caught him doing it for the tenth time.

he made sure you ate, made sure you had water, made sure you took your pain meds when you needed them. he took care of you while taking care of seo-ah.

he never let you feel like you were alone.

in the hardest moments, when the exhaustion was too much, when the fear of being a good mother weighed heavily on your shoulders, he was there.

byeol:

your pregnancy with byeol was a completely different experience from your pregnancy with seo-ah.

with seo-ah, you had been five months pregnant while fighting for your life, every day filled with stress, fear, and the uncertainty of whether you’d even make it out alive on that island.

this time, you were safe.

you were home.

you had everything you needed, and most importantly, you had dae-ho right there beside you through it all.

this pregnancy felt like a reward.

a chance to experience it the way you were supposed to.

no survival games, no debts, no trauma weighing down every thought.

just you, your growing baby, and your beautiful family.

since it was your second pregnancy, things were so much easier.

you knew what to expect, how to handle the morning sickness, the weird cravings, the exhaustion.

you weren’t as anxious this time, because you had already done it once before.

“you’re glowing,”

dae-ho would say at least five times a day, his hands resting gently on your belly, his lips pressing kisses to your forehead.

“i mean, you’re always beautiful, but pregnancy looks really good on you.”

“you just like that i get all round and soft,”

you teased, nudging him.

“i like you,”

he grinned, kissing you again.

the one major difference this time?

you had a toddler to take care of too.

seo-ah was only three when you got pregnant with byeol, which meant you and dae-ho had to balance raising a little ball of energy while preparing for a newborn.

dae-ho, being the incredible husband and father that he was, stepped up in every way possible.

“baby, sit down,”

he would tell you whenever you tried to do anything remotely tiring.

“you’re growing a whole human, let me handle it.”

he overcompensates on this pregnancy, since he felt terrible that he couldn't help you when you were pregnant during the games.

however, he would never say this out loud.

he cooked more, cleaned more, made sure seo-ah was entertained so you could rest.

he even started taking seo-ah out on little father-daughter dates just to give you some peace and quiet when you needed it.

there were times where seo-ah was obsessed with your growing belly.

dae-ho melted every time he saw seo-ah talk or gush about your belly.

“she’s going to be the best big sister,”

he whispered one night, his hand resting on top of yours as you both watched her fall asleep curled up beside you.

this pregnancy gave you a level of peace you never thought you’d have after everything you had been through.

nine months after conceiving, labor was still painful(obviously), but it wasn’t terrifying like it had been with seo-ah.

there was no underlying developing trauma this time, no lingering fear of the outside world.

dae-ho was there, holding your hand just like he had before, whispering words of encouragement, rubbing your back through every contraction.

“you’re amazing,”

he told you between kisses to your damp forehead.

“you’re so strong, baby. just a little more, you’re almost there.”

at last, byeol was born.

she was placed on your chest, and the second you looked at her, your heart stopped.

she was you.

your nose, your lips, your cheeks.

everything about her was like looking into a smaller version of yourself.

“well,”

dae-ho chuckled, his voice thick with emotion as he gazed down at her.

“guess i lost this one, huh?”

you laughed breathlessly, tears filling your eyes as you pressed your lips to byeol’s soft little head.

“she’s perfect.”

“she’s you,”

he corrected, stroking her tiny hand with his thumb.

“and that means she’s definitely perfect.”

seo-ah was beyond excited to meet her baby sister.

“she’s so small,”

she gasped when she first saw her, her big brown eyes wide with awe.

“you were this small once too, baby,”

dae-ho told her, helping her climb onto the couch to sit beside you.

“no way,”

she whispered dramatically.

daeho handled the nighttime feeds when you were too tired to move, he made sure seo-ah still felt just as loved even with a newborn in the house, and he took care of you.

“you just gave birth, baby,”

he would remind you whenever you tried to do too much.

“sit down. let me take care of things.”

he would press kisses to your temple as he held byeol against his chest, rocking her gently.

“honestly, I think i’m the luckiest man alive,”

he would say out of nowhere, watching you nurse byeol while seo-ah played with her toys.

“oh yeah?”

you smiled, exhausted but happy.

“yeah,”

he nodded.

“two beautiful daughters. the best wife in the world. i don’t need anything else.”

he is right. neither of you did.

[sylussweetie]

“CALL ME BABY”

Desc. What kind of fathers the LADS men would be. The kinds of kids they have. The brief dynamic amongst the children.

Featuring. Xavier, Zayne, Sylus, Rafayel, & Caleb! All x Reader/MC (separately)

w.c

A/N: Not me making problems for children. Also, the break my nuts game is a real game. My auntie was watching over some kids that were friends of a friend and they were jumping off the couch onto a firm triangle cushion trying to “break their nuts” crazy work btw, 10/10 parenting somehow

Xavier. He get’s a boy and a girl as twins. The older one I see taking on his more stoic and responsible attributes. The second kid, taking on his sleep everywhere traits but is a bad bitch on the down low. Second kid’s just unmotivated and unbothered.

Imagine it like this, if they were to grow into a high school setting, the archetypes of the first kid would be a student body president or have a role in the student body (they’d be arguing with Zayne’s kid for that role). Then the second kid would be just a “average” student with extra brain cells but wouldn’t want to put them to use. As they’re much more content with going to sleep and not exhausting as much energy as possible but when it comes to being relied on, end up being very reliable.

They def bicker a lot but not as much as Rafayel’s kids (Which we will get to later).

Xavier def treasures those kids. They would take on his hair but your eyes and have features that mostly resembled you with his cosmetics. He and second kid would get along fine and would cuddle together growing up because of how much they SLEEP. Imagine second kid clinging onto Xavier when he has to go to work. All like “daddy no! Don’t go!” Grumbling and gripping onto Xavier’s shirt.

Xavier’s oldest and him bond over simple talking, quality time in… cooking for you.

“But you’re banned from the kitchen.”

“Says who?”

“Mom.”

“She won’t even notice.”

“She will if the house is gone by the time she gets back.”

“I wasn’t aware the house could teleport. It must have been an oversight when I bought it.”

“Dad.”

Oldest kid loves practicing against Xavier with the sword. Second kid gets too dejected easily and does not truly want to do Xavier gets his fun out of oldest child. Teaching his oldest kid all the tricks he learnt and if anyone tries to get too close at school he gives them permission to defend themselves. If you know what I mean.

The oldest kid inherits Xavier’s light evol. They def train together. The second kid doesn’t care but they’re like a naturally talented and gifted sort of genius who doesn’t have to try. I’d say they’re really good at the sword with bad evol control or have skilled evol usage with a lack of effort or skill in sword fighting. One or the other.

The kids ask about how you and Xavier fell in love and Xavier’s always so sentimental when he tells the story. His rendition. Something you haven’t heard from him before but did now. First kid is sitting obediently at his side and looking up to the face of their father listening intently. While second child is lazing with their head on Xavier’s thigh as Xavier brushes their hair.

Zayne. Zayne feels like a girl dad or a boy dad, but with only one child. Honestly if he has a girl first, it’s a single child. If he has a boy first, then he has a young girl right after but when the boy is 5-7 so they have a pretty decent age difference.

Girl dad Zayne loves his baby girl. So, so much. She’s taken on your features, your hair, your eyes. I guess the only thing she has of his is the cold personality. Though not really cold, just shy and then with your chipper excitement whenever she lights up at anything she loves. Is also a lover of dessert. You have to yell at them both when they sneak away extra macaroons.

Zayne knows it’s wrong but can’t help it when she gives him the puppies of eyes.

Zayne’s son has almost all of his colors save for his features. He’s inherited the eyebrows for sure but the other features are yours. Sculpted soft nose and cushy cheeks. When he was born, Zayne couldn’t help but ghostly pinch at the chub of his newborn son. Almost looking akin to that cheery little seal he would always craft out of his evol.

Zayne’s daughter loves her big brother so, so much. She walks to school with him while holding his hand and skipping with the biggest, toothiest smile on his face. Whenever you give her candy she always saves a piece to share with her older brother and loves to tease him with sticky candied fingers. She adores being twirled around by him in the air and it always ends up with you having to warn them to be careful not to fall. She’s the only one she has such an easy time showing emotion with (besides you guys).

When she gets older she stops trying to be so reliant on him. Especially in public, she’s so independent and self reliant to everyone else, but at school she gets all embarrassed and shy when her big brother comes into class to remind her that she forgot her water bottle. Or that mom told her to eat all the veggies packed in her bento. Her classmates all awe at him and how cool her big brother is.

Zayne’s son is hardwired to look after his wittle baby sister. He can’t help it, she’s so cute. But also as he grows older he begins to wish for time to himself and independence from having to be an older protective brother. With so much weight on his shoulders he begins to act out and at some point claims that his dad only cares about his baby sister and that he doesn’t love him. (He’s a pre-teen give him a break).

All is resolved of course after a talk and that Zayne assured him he loves him, and pinching his cheeks.

Zayne’s son being the cool VP that hangs around and lets the kids chill from the rules while Zayne’s daughter in her generation is the president and is def more strict.

They both inherit Zayne’s snow ability but to your Evol versatility. Zayne’s son specializing in more imaginative moving creatures while Zayne’s daughter specializes in ice in the form of intricate and sturdy sculptures.

Rafayel. Rafayel has a girl, and a younger boy. No questions asked. Only like 3-4 years apart. The older girl is a sassy version of him, if not sassier. She has his hair, and his eyes. Although the big bug eyed version of them where it feels like she’s constantly staring into your soul. Constantly has them tied in adorable little pigtails at the side of her that swish back and forth when she shakes her head “no” especially when she was a toddler, a little pout on her face, lower lip jutted out as she crosses her arms with watery eyes peaking up at you both.

She is in fact a daddy’s girl, but very much still loves you. When she was younger she’d fight you over who got to cuddle dad in bed until Rafayel just tucked himself in the middle and cuddled you both. When she’s older she’s much more content with just you, and in fact finds her dad’s possession of your time to be really annoying. She wants to go shopping with you, for you to do her hair. For you to bake with her.

If anything, she kinda feels bad when she was younger for preferring her dad over you and wants to remind you that she loves you, too. Especially when you had her brother. Who took up most of your time. This was when she truly noticed the loss of your attention.

She kinda bullied him a lot too lol. But not too harshly, usual sibling banger of chasing each other around with a knife and threatening death. Then consoling and begging not to tell mom or dad. With her is the only time he’ll ever fight or argue back. But in a shy “leave me alone!” Kid sort of way. They bicker and banter back and forth. “Go climb a tree! Bug eyed freak!” “I hope the sharks eat you! You’d taste better than the grass!”

Rafayel’s son is much shyer. With one eye the color of Rafayel’s gradient hues and the other one of yours. He’s quite different than the both of you since you’re both so bold, especially with each other. He’s sensitive, and very shy. When he was younger, he’d often liked to be held by you and would bury his chubby face into your neck. He likes hiding behind Rafayel’s leg in public when he has his art galleries cause he still likes to see the pretty art his papa makes.

He loves to paint, Rafayel and him bonded that way. Rafayel somewhat got him out of his shell when his son was gifted the most talented artist award in kindergarten. In middle to highschool, Rafayel’s son gets pretty famous for being such a talented artist (but often gets compared to his dad and how he can’t live up to the original). Oh well, guess that’s why his older sister is there to beat them all up.

Younger son has evol doing with painting. The elements he paints come to life for a momentary period of time. He’s still learning to use it. Older sister has Rafayel’s fire evol. She’s more of a fighter though like her mom rather than a “dainty” artist. However, she fights with a force and grace of that of a well practiced and skilled dancer.

Sylus. Twins. Two girls. One boy. Just a five year age gap. His little girls are fierce and bold. Just as daring, sly and cunning. He spoils them SO much. They come back from weekend shopping trips from different parts of the world, sometimes richer in fashion and sometimes richer in mind. He definitely takes them to explore other cultures and they bring back souvenirs from their travels.

His girls love to hang onto Sylus like little monkeys. Very adventurous. If one of them is climbing his leg, the other one is hanging off his arm as he holds it up like a branch. Even as they get older to beg him for something they use this tactic.

As for his son, Sylus likes to sit with his son. It’s kind of strange cause the little boy is so quiet. Sylus likes to clean his guns with his son. Having the little child sit on the couch just staring blankly at his father reload and clean a gun. Of course, safety first.

His son inherits his animal loving trait. Horses? Check? A strange forest water creature? Check. A beaver? Strangely yes. Cats? Especially cats. If he goes outside expect him to come back with at least one cat that managed to follow him home.

“Who is that?”

“That’s Mochi and Miles. They’re brothers, Mochi is really nice but Miles is really mean.”

He looks up at you with those puppiest eyes, “Can we keep them?”

Before Sylus was more adept as a parent he had Mephisto watch over the twins in the crib. He had a special crib made with a perch sturdy enough to hold between two cribs so the crow could look over them all at once.

After you found out you scolded him, “what is a bird going to do if they’re in danger?”

“CAWCAW.”

“He’s going to do that.”

Luke and Kieran love the girls. Twinsies!!! They play house with them, feed them, albeit they’re both very clumsy in trying to feed the stubborn kids. The oldest is definitely very impatient and eats as fast as possible to go play, a choking hazard. The second one is patient and eats slow while transfixed with the TV, also a choking hazard with how distracted she gets. They both are very worried, very paranoid, very protective.

On the playground a little boy comes up to give Sylus’s second daughter a flower, all blushing and unable to meet her eyes as she’s more confused rather than thankful. But take it anyway. Luke and Kieran watching the whole thing interrogated the poor kid.

This kid is someone in Second daughter’s class that always remains behind the scenes throughout the years. In middle school he’s a pimply nervous kid and gets a completely glow up in high school that has every girl blushing but he only has eyes for second daughter.

Kieran and Luke refer to the son as little monarch. Throw him up in the air and like to shadow box with him. They’ll come out from the shadows and as Sylus’s son is throwing a punch, they’ll dramatically toss themselves backwards and groan in pain.

First daughter is chatty as FUCK. Wanting to know everything about her baby brother while second daughter watches and observes.

“Mommy, what does he eat?”

“Milk.”

“From a cow?”

“No.”

“From your nipples?”

“Whe-where did you learn that?”

“Did we drink from your nipples too?”

“Sylus!”

Sylus’s son is much more deadpanned, reserved, less excitable than the girls but just as adventurous if not more bold because of this personality difference. He gives off little shit energy. He’s a menace who does what he wants and loves to piss off his older sisters.

However, he’s a mommy’s boy. Prefers to spend days with you whether it be action based, training in the ring or relaxing, spa based. He loves both because he wants to spend time with his mom.

Very often it’s Sylus showing you PDA and all three of the kids BLEGHING at the sight. Although they acknowledge that they’re very lucky to have healthy, loving parents.

The oldest twin and son takes on the more physical attributes of both their parents. They both love boxing. While Sylus’s second daughter is more elegant and dancer-like. She’s more nimble and lean. Definitely took acrobatics when she was younger.

Second daughter takes on Sylus’s evol but in a ribbon leverage sort of manner. Kind of like Spiderman in movement and functionality but with evol strings. Son takes on mother’s attribute of physical combat with Sylus’s build. Think of the “BEAT HIS ASS” audio and that’s the vision you get whenever he fights. He grows to be way taller than his sisters. Older daughter is a combination of both, a master of none but a jack of all trades. She’s got skilled abilities in fighting, and evol manipulation but it’s her father’s manipulative eye that she’s got the most handle over out of the three.

Caleb. Caleb would have twin boys, one girl. Six year age gap. He’s hoping for a kid to look like you, but the twins share his resemblance. It’s extremely uncanny. The only thing they’d have is your nose bridge and eye structure. Otherwise it’s those beady lavender’s staring right back at him.

Metal arm Caleb is especially careful of holding the kids, definitely letting his more fleshy one being the one to hold his kids. Especially before they can even crawl, open their eyes, etc. He really wants to hold both kids in both arms, he’s strong enough to but is too afraid of hurting them. As they grow older they get used to their daddy’s “robot arm” and begin to ask questions about its origins and how other daddy’s don’t have robot arms.

They’re also very mischievous. Grabbing each other’s hair, especially as infants who can crawl. The youngest in retaliation always grabs the oldest’ hair and never lets go until he gets a toy. Or as they grow older, throwing dirt in the other’s faces, stealing a portion of their food but never taking each other’s portion of dessert because that’s sacred. Not as bad as Rafayel’s kids but 100% more physical.

They’re also both sort of manipulative. In the cute little shit way and less of the egotistical man sort of way. They want simple things like candy, not world domination (yet). They both also fight over your attention, and fight their dad for your attention. Caleb makes it very well known his little shits can’t have you at night but you will most certainly tuck them in.

The kids always BLEGH whenever he calls you pipsqueak or anything super endearing. With such love in his voice and heart eyes, a hand around your waist and leaning down to kiss your forehead. Such a love they cannot fathom just yet as they repulse is disgust at the affection.

“Momma we can kiss you way better than papa can.”

“Yeah, papa’s icky right now. He’s got cooties and germs all over him.”

“Your momma loves my cooties just fine.” He teases them with a flick to both their foreheads.

He loves flying paper airplanes for them, especially when they were toddlers. The way the two of them would toddle after an airplane mid flight with wide soft lavender eyes. Caleb also regales to them old “war stories” about being on the fleet.

They think he’s the coolest when he’s telling them these types of stories. They also try to play fight with him, all about how their evol is way stronger cause they’re younger and he’s a sad old man. He obviously beats them, never lets them truly win and it’s only after about three times does he let them succeed in “defeating” him.

The boys are just menaces, playing dangerous games like jumping off the couch like a ninja or climbing on each other’s shoulders. Jumping from the couch onto���albeit—soft cushions to play the “break my nuts” game they made up on a whim.

You and Caleb are both exhausted but happy. Yet there’s just one more thing he wants…

When Caleb gets his daughter she looks just like you. His hair but your eyes and your features. He loves her so much, adores her. The very first day you gave birth to her he wouldn’t put her down. His finger presenting itself to her tiny soft grabby little hands as she grips onto his larger finger tightly. She can’t open her eyes yet but her mouth is agape with the tiniest and most adorable little “o” as if she’s perpetually yawning. His mini pipsqueak.

The boys are rough players, and very loud, very destructive. You both cannot have nice things for long. You wonder how they’ll be.

When Caleb presents to them their baby sister they become quiet. Unknown with the little creature that sits so small and quietly in their father’s arms.

“Why is she so wrinkly?”

“Why is she so small?”

“She’s shaped like a potato.”

“She’s wrapped in a blanket, and you were small and wrinkly once like this too, y’know.” Caleb teases with a small grin.

The second oldest talks at normal voice level—loud—and Caleb has to shush him for fear of waking up the baby. They don’t think it’s much of an issue but after that they have to deal with crying in the night at fuck who knows hours and second oldest is a light sleeper so he definitely hates having the little potato around.

The boys hate how they have to tiptoe around her for the longest time while she’s this size. They’d get to a point where the oldest decides to rebel and the second son follows his lead and they both start screaming and hitting pots and pans. They’re such menaces.

Poor little Caleb’s daughter, with her baby ears and sensitive sleep schedule. He obviously yells at the boys and makes it very clear they can act like this again when she grows older.

They sort of resent her for a small period of time but grow to become fond of her when she’s a toddler. She cries less and sleeps through the night. Through exposure she’s gotten attached to her big brothers and sits by them whenever they’re watching a movie or follows them whenever they erratically walk around the house roleplaying as far space pirate.

They’re both very attentive and aware of what will hurt her, albeit not because they were taught to be Caleb but because they’ve learned to care about her safety over time. She fell down the stairs once? Her crying broke their hearts. Oldest kid kicked the stairs in anger and started crying because he hurt his foot. Second kid kicked the stairs for hurting both his older brother and baby sister, also started crying because he stubbed his toe. All in all, don’t kick the stairs.

As she grows older the boys tease her and kind of leave her out of things when they play together. They’re not exactly mean or cruel but they grew up together and prefer their boy time with one another. However, it doesn’t mean that they don’t feel bad about preferring playing sometimes without her. After they’re satisfied they also return to her with an apology and promise of the new big adventure the three of them will be on together.

When her hair’s longer, Caleb takes extra care to brush it, style it and takes care of her like he did for you when you were both younger. His little princess.

Don’t even mention boys or the possibility of her dating, it’ll break his heart knowing no one is good enough for his little girl. Not to mention the way the twins would erratically and immediately be threatening death if that boy were to do their sister wrong.

The twins inherit his abilities of gravity manipulation evol and the third inherits your abilities.

[waynes-multiverse]

Oh, this chapter was just deliciously angsty!!! Just my cup of tea loll 😇

Loved every minute of it 😍����

Oh, Micheal is just such a lovely, lovely person, isn't he? 😒 In the words of Taylor Swift: Michael doesn't measure up in any measure of a man...

“Do what you gotta do in the times, ‘s what I say,” Sam agreed.

Why did his wording here remind me so much of that? 😂😂

“Try to stay alive,” Sam rejoined.

Noooo dead 💀💀

Hahaha omfg I loved Sam so much during this chapter! He was awesome!!! Go Lawyer!Sam 😎🤎 (And I have no idea if you intended for my mind to jump to Changing Channels and French Mistake Sam with these lines, but it did, so THANK you 🤣🫶)

“But sometimes…sometimes an anchor just feels suffocating,” he said.

I do understand his struggle after the war, but it's literally NO excuse to treat his wife like shit, cheat on her, lie to her, spend her money for his trashy sidepiece, and God knows what else. You don't want an anchor? Fine. Get divorced. The fact he keeps her around and won't let her find her own happiness after she literally saved his life is so mind-boggingly selfish smh The least he could to show his gratitude is not be a gigantic cuntface 🤬

You never thought you would dishonor your husband as well as yourself.

Ugh, God, poor thing! 😭💔 With all the romanticism of that period sadly also comes the shame of taboo topics (not to mention feminism in general taking a backseat lol) Really feel for her here! Wish she wouldn't blame herself as much. Her husband is a dirtbag 😔

“Oh, sorry,” Dean said, making way for the guy. He wasn’t quite as tall as Dean, lithe, blonde, and blue-eyed. He grabbed an arrangement of blue and yellow iris flowers from the case and took it up to the front. The florist seemed to recognize him. “Oh, Michael! Been a while since I’ve seen you,” he said.

SCREAMING 😳😳😳

The whole flower shop scene was like watching a train wreck. Poor Dean! So many stingers in those few sentences!! 😩 (And man, I wanna choke Michael!!! Buying flowers? Dinner? Are you fucking kidding me??? WHAT THE F–???)

But did you stop the angst there? Nope! The reader part of me hated you, while the writer part highly commended you 😂💜

“As long as Michael plays along, should be quick. A few months at most, after he’s served the divorce papers and signs them,” Sam assured. A few months? That wasn’t quick enough in your book, but you agreed with a nod. You got up from the chair opposite his desk. You hesitated there.

I already knew it wouldn't be fast, but I knew this was going to be a problem. Where would she stay during this? Michael certainly won't have it, and I really fear for her safety here 🥺 (Reading the teaser for the last part, I think I have good reason to, even though I know you said once earlier I didn't need to. Still, you got me shaking here, girl 😅)

Surprised Sam wouldn't think about that, considering everything he found out about the guy so far 👀

You not only found Dean in Central Park, but close to the very same bench you two had sat on yesterday and talked the night away. He was surprised, but he smiled when he saw you. Your pace quickened, until you were hastening over to him. He welcomed you into his arms. He bent his head towards yours, stopping just shy of kissing you. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours for a moment.

This was such a dreamy, swoon-worthy movie scene *sighs* 😍����

And then they had to start talking, didn't they? Specifically Dean. The infamous DW self-loathing enters the AU 😆

I really just wanted to cover his piehole and tell him to stop talking, kiss her for real, and take her with you. Hide out in Kansas till everything blows over 😭

“You’re just saying that so you have an excuse for toying with me. So you can keep chasing skirts,” you said, pushing at his chest. “Yes, your brother told me about all your little exploits.” Dean took the blow, both proverbial and physical, with a raise of his brows. He guessed he couldn’t blame you for that one. Still, the disdain behind your words stung. He allowed you to break free of him.

It hurts. It hurts so much...

And I'm so glad the brothers had a long overdue chat as well! I still feel so incredibly heartbroken for Dean 😭

I can't wait for the last part of this & how it all will tie together in the end! Eeeek! This is so, so, so incredibly good, friend!!! 😍😍😍 (And I get to read it on Patreon tonight too hehe 🩵)

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Now we get into the aftermath of the night before, with all the insecurity and heartbreak to go along with it. 💙

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “Danke Shoen” by Wayne Newton

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Mentions of cheating, angsty angst, trauma/PTSD, and a cliffhanger…

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Part 4: Complicit

Sam would give Michael one thing. The guy damn well knew how to drink.

He didn’t stop all night, throwing back whiskey like it was cheap beer. His words began to slur, his movements sloppy, but he was still coherent. When he got up to visit the men’s restroom, Sam got up as well. Maybe he could get Michael talking.

Sam stopped the other man from tripping into the urinal. The two laughed it off, with Michael thanking him before he unzipped to finish his business. Sam did the same.

After washing their hands, Sam looked over and noticed Michael’s gaze lingering on his own reflection in the mirror. It was becoming a rough sight—his blonde hair no longer neatly coiffed, purplish rings under his eyes, the stench of alcohol clinging to his skin and clothing.

“You all right there, Milligan?” Sam asked.

Michael ran a hand over his face, sighing when it didn’t get any better.

“Fine,” he replied. “So, Winchester. What did you say you do for work again? Something about your own business?”

Sam nodded. “I started up a law firm.”

That much, he had to be honest about. It was all too easy for someone to look up his name in the directory.

“Sounds like a good outfit,” Michael said, with an incline of his head. “Every lawyer I know wears a Rolex.”

Sam chuckled, glancing down at his father’s watch. “Well, I’m not quite there yet.”

“Someday soon, I’m sure,” said Michael. He bumped Sam conspiringly on the shoulder.

“And you?” Sam asked. “What’s keeping the lights on at your place?”

Michael raised a hand to sort through his unruly hair, a dirtier blonde in this unflattering light.

“Well, you could say I’ve inherited a business of my own,” he said. “I run a meat packing plant down in the district.”

Sam’s attention piqued. There had been a meat rationing during the war, even some rumors and propaganda about “meatleggers,” black market operators.

“How’s it been with the rations?” Sam asked. “Been hard to even find a good carton of eggs lately.”

Michael gave him a slight smile. “Been on the turnaround, actually. I’ve been able to make some connections with vendors outside the city. A little grease on the palms makes a little go a long way, if you catch my drift.”

Sam slowly smiled and nodded. A little grease on the palms, huh?

“Do what you gotta do in the times, ‘s what I say,” Sam agreed.

Michael snorted. “Now you’re talkin’. That’s all we can do, you know. Try to make a thing work, with whatever scraps we get. Try to stay afloat.”

“Try to stay alive,” Sam rejoined.

Michael made a low sound of approval. He became more contemplative, crossing his arms as he once again glanced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sam’s gaze on the other man was perceptive, gaining ever closer to what seemed to be eating at the very core of him. Whether Sam actually believed what he was saying or not, each of his words was a test, a subtle nudge.

“You know,” Michael said. “I was shot down in France.”

Sam sobered further. Leaning against the counter, he retrieved two cigarettes and a lighter. He didn’t often smoke, but he thought it might keep the other man talking. He handed one over to Michael, and he took it gratefully. They lit up together and coiled musky tobacco smoke into the air.

“Where?” Sam asked.

Michael snorted, huffing a bit of smoke. “Lord knows. But when I woke up, I had stitches from here to here.”

He gestured to the back of his head, all the way to above his brow. It explained a small, but noticeable scar near his temple.

“And I had an angel standing over me,” he added, his eyes growing heavy. Guilty. “A bona fide angel. She’d stitched me up, she told me. She also told me I was lucky to be alive. The doc wanted to toe tag me and be done with it, but she thought I still had some fight left in me.”

Michael shook his head. “The next chance I got, I married her.”

Sam’s brows rose. He knew you had been a nurse, but he hadn’t known this part of your story.

“A wartime romance, huh?” he said. Michael quirked a smile.

“She was my anchor,” he said. “After it was all said and done, she followed me here, held my feet down to the ground. Sometimes she had to hammer me down, ya know.”

He hesitated, his eyes somewhat glazing over. He stared over Sam’s shoulder at something only he could see.

“But sometimes…sometimes an anchor just feels suffocating,” he said. “Sometimes, you need to forget your own damn name. Forget that your entire life and mortgage is in a warehouse that might as well be a freezer full a’ dead cow meat. And still, it smells a hell of a lot better than lying on a dirty cot—where the last guy who had your spot probably got his leg sawed off.” 

Michael considers the cigarette in his hand for a long while before he takes another puff.

Sam exhales smoke as well. He spent the last three years behind a desk, but he sees the same shaken core in Michael Milligan that he too often sees in his older brother.

“You know, Winchester, there’s two kinds of men,” Michael said, just a hint of a slur in his voice. “The ones who pray to live…and the ones who beg for it to be over.”

“And what kind of man are you now?” Sam asked. His tone was loose, but his gaze was sharp.

Michael snorted. He dabbed the butt of his cigarette on the inside of the sink before he threw it away.

“I’m the guy who can’t die,” he muttered.

He rolled his shoulders, as if to let the weight of his words and everything that came along with them to roll off his back. Then he pushed his way out of the bathroom, leaving Sam considering more than just half a cigarette.

That night after Dean left, you slept in the guest room instead of your bed. You couldn’t even bring yourself to sleep next to Michael when he stumbled in at four in the morning, especially now that you had seen his game with your own eyes. 

However, you also felt complicit yourself the next morning. You felt…ashamed. You took your vows seriously. You had never in your life thought you would be someone so brazen. You never thought you would dishonor your husband as well as yourself.

And yet. All while you got ready for work, hearing Michael’s snores from the other room, your mind was filled with warmth and memory—of Dean. His smile, his voice, his eyes, his lips, and of course, his hands. You couldn’t decide which of them was your favorite, but his hands were high on the list. 

You shouldn’t have let him in, you reminded yourself. You nibbled on your lower lip while you prepped the coffee maker. You should have told him goodnight at the door and saw him off. You should very well not have invited him up to the apartment, let alone drank with him, or let him touch you…

You paused while the sound of percolation and the smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen. You looked up at yourself in the small mirror that hung on the wall. The woman looking back at you was conflicted at best.

Yes, you felt guilty. But at the same time, you didn’t. Was it really betraying your marriage if your husband had been doing far worse, and for God knew how long?

No. This wasn’t a marriage. This was a sham. A mockery of the very thing.

You frowned angrily and almost slammed the carafe on the counter when the coffee was done. Forcing yourself to take a few steadying breaths, you allowed that hate and anger to slowly drain out of you, and you smiled.

You marveled that you could smile at all, but it was only thanks to Dean Winchester.

What the hell am I doing?

Dean stared at the two bouquets of flowers. One was a bound bunch of red roses, the other was wildflowers and other colorful ones he didn’t know the names of. He was having a hard time deciding, namely because he didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked.

Because after all, he barely knew you.

He sighed down at the roses. They were pretty, but expensive. He could imagine your surprise, followed by your smile—the one that actually lit up your eyes and changed your whole face, made you sweeter, almost shy.

I’m buying flowers for a married woman.

The thought managed to make him pause, with a rough exhale of breath. The truth was, he’d crossed the line with you. More than once.

The hard part about it was, he didn’t really care. He did wonder if you cared.

He wondered if you’d be embarrassed to see him again. He wondered if you wanted to keep last night a memory, and nothing more. He wondered if he was better off booking his train home now, and leaving some kind of note for you with Sam. Dean didn’t think he wanted to see that look of mortification on your face, the whiskey finally cleared from your mind to see what he really was: a man with no job, no commitments, and very little prospects on the horizon.

“Ah, ‘scuse me,” a young man said from Dean’s left side.

“Oh, sorry,” Dean said, making way for the guy. He wasn’t quite as tall as Dean, lithe, blonde, and blue-eyed. He grabbed an arrangement of blue and yellow iris flowers from the case and took it up to the front. The florist seemed to recognize him.

“Oh, Michael! Been a while since I’ve seen you,” he said.

When the florist asked about you as well, the mention of your name rang between Dean’s ears. A feeling like inky claws raked through his chest; he raised his head from the roses and finally recognized Michael Milligan. He was the same man Dean had spotted in your wedding pictures hanging on the wall last night, right in the foyer.

“She’s all right,” Michael chuckled. “Truth be told, I’ve been working late this week. Hoping to surprise her tonight, take her out to dinner. Somewhere nice, you know.” 

“Oh, really? Why don’t you take her to that nice steakhouse off of Broadway…” the florist twittered on as he continued to ring up Michael’s order.

Anger and disgust prickled under Dean’s skin, his fists clenched at his sides. More than anything, he wanted to turn around and lay your husband out flat. If he thought one little bouquet and a Salisbury steak was going to wash him clean, then he was an idiot as well as a selfish bastard.

But Dean knew, deep down, that Michael would be just as justified to throw a swing right back at him.

So Dean left the flowers, the flower shop, and the entire busy street and all its blaring sounds behind.

During your lunch break, you quickly made the trek over to Sam’s office. He’d called you this morning with a story that only confirmed everything you’d inherently felt, and yet, some of it still managed to shock you. 

You didn’t even have the patience to wait until after work, but when you got there, he reassured you. It had taken him a few rounds of poker and discreetly following Michael and Dolores after they exited through the back of the club…but Sam had gotten the evidence not long after. They weren’t exactly discreet in the alley. Or in the nearby motel.

You had the envelope in hand filled with the pictures he’d developed from his camera.  

“You don’t have to look,” he advised. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“No, I want to see it,” you said. You took the pictures out, and your expression didn’t change as you look through them all. Each position captured was more compromising than the next between Michael and Dolores Daye. Apparently, he was paying most of her bills as well with your combined household funds. So part of your own money was financing his exploits.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. He was sincere, with those hazel eyes of his.

You nodded and gave him back the envelope. “What’s next?”

“I went ahead and filed the petition. I’ll take this right to the clerk’s office myself.”

“How long will it take to be over?”

“As long as Michael plays along, should be quick. A few months at most, after he’s served the divorce papers and signs them,” Sam assured.

A few months? That wasn’t quick enough in your book, but you agreed with a nod. You got up from the chair opposite his desk. You hesitated there.

“Oh, I meant to ask…how’s your brother?” you said.

Sam began to smile, but he tempered it. “He just called before you came in. He let me know he was stepping out for a walk.”

“Oh, really? Did he happen to say where?”

You not only found Dean in Central Park, but close to the very same bench you two had sat on yesterday and talked the night away. He was surprised, but he smiled when he saw you. Your pace quickened, until you were hastening over to him. He welcomed you into his arms. He bent his head towards yours, stopping just shy of kissing you. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours for a moment.

“Well, look who’s here?” he teased. “How’d you find me?”

“I stopped by Sam’s office,” you said, holding onto the lapels of his coat. A cold November wind pushed at you both, ruffling your clothes. “The paperwork is on its way. Soon enough, I won’t be a married woman anymore.”

He tucked a wild strand of hair behind your ear and smiled, but it didn’t altogether reach his eyes.

“How soon is soon?” he asked.

“A few months, according to your brother.”

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. “That’s good…but, I need to head home for a little while.”

That made you pause, tilting your head in confusion. Though you supposed it made sense. He was only here visiting his brother. He was planning on going home eventually.

But surely, that was before we… You lowered your gaze.

“Back to Lawrence?” you asked. Again, he nodded.

“I need to take care of some things, figure out my next move,” he said.

You pulled away from him to brace yourself, and not just against the cold. “Well, when will you be back?” 

He stayed quiet, worrying you even more. There was a deep pit forming in your stomach, churning with unease.  

“Dean?” you prodded.

He stepped back in to grasp your arms gently.

“Sweetheart…the truth is, I don’t have much to offer you,” he said. “I don’t have a business to inherit from my folks. I don’t even have a job. I’m a man who was about as useful as a jackhammer, until the war ended.”

You frowned, resting a hand against his chest. “Dean Winchester, that’s not all there is to you.”

“Really. When did you figure that one out, in the whole week you’ve known me?” he asked. It was harsher than he meant to be, but he couldn’t help the words that were spilling out of his mouth. “Didn’t that get you in trouble the first time? I’d a thought you would’ve learned your lesson by now.”

You snatched your hand back, hurt filling your eyes. You turned to walk away before he saw your tears. You should have known. You should have known a man like him would never be serious. Not about you. 

As soon as he let the words go, Dean realized what he was doing. Yeah, he was frustrated, but it wasn’t aimed at you. It couldn’t be aimed at you.

God knew he didn’t want to hurt you, or for you to hate him. He really couldn’t stomach either thought, so he relented and reached out to grab at your hand, before you could get too far. 

“Wait,” he said, managing to pull you back to him. “I’m sorry.”

You tugged your hand to try and free yourself from his grasp. 

“You know what, maybe you’re right,” you said, your voice wobbling with anger, dismay, and tears. “Maybe I ought to stop letting a man get even an inch into my heart. At this point, it’s my own fault.”

“Stop,” Dean demanded. “No, it’s not.” 

He pulled you back into him, but you looked away from his imploring gaze. Your breaths grew shallow while you tried in vain to stop yourself from crying. It damn well broke his heart.

“It’s not your fault. I’m just an idiot,” He cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears as they fell. “But you…you deserve to be happy. With a man that can take care of you, protect you. A man who has a little more of his life figured out.”

“You’re just saying that so you have an excuse for toying with me. So you can keep chasing skirts,” you said, pushing at his chest. “Yes, your brother told me about all your little exploits.”

Dean took the blow, both proverbial and physical, with a raise of his brows. He guessed he couldn’t blame you for that one. Still, the disdain behind your words stung. He allowed you to break free of him.

You stepped back and straightened your clothes. You took in a deep breath that did nothing to calm you, and you uttered a humorless laugh.

“I suppose it makes sense. Why would you want anything to do with me?” You gestured down at yourself with a dismissive hand. “A-a walking mess. Even when I am divorced, that’s how people will see me. Damaged goods. I don’t even know how I’m gonna tell my parents.”

You covered your face against Dean and the rest of the world, and after weeks and months, you finally allowed yourself the one thing you hadn’t since your first inkling that your husband was being unfaithful. You finally allowed yourself to break.

The first sob shuddered through your body, followed by hot tears. You squeezed your eyes against them and wiped at your face in vain.

Dean broke too, in his own way. He gathered you into his arms, where he shushed you gently and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“I wasn’t giving you an excuse,” he said.

Despite how much you wanted to push him away, the deep, steady timbre of his voice pierced you and soothed you at the same time.

“I meant every word I said. I may not be the right guy for you, but don’t you dare take a scrap of what anyone else might say, you hear me?” he said firmly. “You’re beautiful. You don’t suffer fools like me, and you’re better than that sad sack excuse of a man deserves.”

You looked up at him with watery eyes.

“You’re a lot of things, Dean Winchester, but you’re not a fool.”

He shook his head, not wanting to argue with you anymore. He just kissed you, deeply, thoroughly, the way you always imagined a kiss should be.

Except that you realized…this was goodbye. So you took advantage of every second of it.

You met him with as much as he gave and reached up to touch his cheek. It felt a little rough under your fingers, just like you remembered. You would probably always remember that feeling, long after you left the park.

That evening, you packed as many bags as you could. You put together the savings you’d been collecting for a few months. It had been at your coworker Jess’s advice, ever since you started feeling the inkling that something wasn’t right in your marriage.

After you were all packed, you took one last, long look at the space you had tried to make your home. With one last tear trailing your cheek, you stepped out of the apartment. You took the bus uptown, where you later checked into a hotel. 

When your husband finally got home from work, he would find a one-page letter written in your own hand. 

For once, Sam was actually home in his apartment. He was helping Dean take his suitcase to the front door after calling a taxi to come shortly. Sam wasn’t happy about it though.

“You don’t have to go so soon, Dean,” said Sam.

Dean gave a humorless laugh. He grabbed his coat from the rack and threw it on.

“I’ve gotta get back to the house. It’s already been empty too long,” he said. Three years too long. “Fact is, I’m just getting in your way here.”

He couldn’t quite meet Sam’s eyes as he went to the door, but Sam stopped him with a pressing hand on his arm, tugging him back.

“Hey,” Sam said, his brows furrowed. “That’s not true. Where’d you get that idea?”

Dean raised his brows. “You mean the way you’ve haven’t been home more than a few hours a night? The way the only time I see you is if I go find you at that office. You should open up a Bed n’ Breakfast there. You’d make a double killing in this town.”

Sam wilted. “Dean, we opened the firm barely a month ago. I’m just trying to—”

Dean laid a hand on his shoulder, relenting.

“Hey, look. I’m not judging you, Sammy. I’m not,” he said. “You’re building something. I know that. I just need to go figure out how to do the same, whatever that means for me.”

Sam stared back at him, still with that frown. His guilt and reluctance to see Dean go was reflected in his eyes; those sad puppy dog eyes that used to get him out of almost any punishment with their parents when the boys were young. Before.

The corner of Dean’s mouth kicked up into a smirk.

“Don’t worry. I’ll see you again soon,” he said.

“How soon is soon?” Sam asked. It was something their mother used to say to John whenever he called late, promising he’d come home after long days in town buying supplies for the farm.

“The divorce papers will be served to Michael Milligan,” Sam added, pointedly raising his brows. “She…could use your support.”

Dean’s smile faded at the mention of you. His hand slipped from Sam’s shoulder.

“She’s got a strong head on her shoulders. She’ll be all right,” he said. He heard the honk of the taxi outside. He grabbed up his hat, set it on his head, and took up his bags. He turned back to Sam at the last moment. “I’m sure you’ll look out for her.”

It was somehow both a question, and an imploring charge. Sam sighed, but he nodded in agreement. His brother could be so very stubborn. Once he got an idea of what he thought he needed to do, there was almost no talking him out of it.

Sam opened the door for him and walked him out to the car, helping him with his bags. Before Dean could get into the cab, Sam stopped him. Their gazes met, but in that moment, no words were needed.

They pulled one another into a firm hug.

I’m sorry. I should’ve been there more for you.

Don’t worry about it. It’s already forgotten.

Dean released him first with a smile, and a heavy pat of Sam’s shoulder. He turned and climbed into the cab’s backseat. Afterwards, Sam watched the yellow cab take his brother away to the train station, feeling a weight in his heart that wouldn’t subside.

He would never know that Dean felt exactly the same way. Except that impossible weight felt a lot like your hand, gently laid over his heart.

Dean took up his suitcase as the train pulled into the station. He stepped up onto the platform and retrieved the ticket from his pocket, but he paused, hearing a familiar voice shouting his name.

He turned his head and saw Sam rushing to meet him at the platform.

“What’s the matter? What’re you doing here?” Dean asked in surprise. He didn’t like the wary apprehension written across Sam’s face.

“I just took a closer look at Milligan’s finances,” he said. “Before you go, there’s something you might want to know.”

AN: Come on, we needed at least one cliffhanger in this series! 😘 What do you think Sam rushed over to tell Dean? What did you think about their "goodbye," as well as her and Dean's goodbye? ...And are you ready for all the drama that's about to go down? lol 

Next Time:

Except the loud, insistent knock on the door broke you out of your thoughts. Straightening up with a frown, you set down your glass and went over to the door. Maybe it was Housekeeping coming up to bring you the fresh towels you asked for. The ones that had been laid out in the bathroom smelled musty.

You opened the door to a tall frame taking up room in the doorway. It was Michael, standing there both disheveled and steaming mad. He held your letter crumpled in his left hand. 

“Michael, what—what’re you doing here?” you gasped and stepped back. He followed you inside the room and slammed it shut. He looked around at your open suitcases in disbelief, then finally at you.

“What’s this supposed to mean, huh?” he demanded to know. He shook the flimsy piece of paper at you.

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[javaxzun]

dionysus’ garden

※ Closeup+funfacts below!

Wanted to illustrate his private grape garden and gazebo :] i think it turned out well

Heres some fun facts about him! First, garden is seperated into 2 parts,

1. Grapes for him and his friends at the gazebo! they are varied and have different side effects to anyone (except himself) that includes either regenerative healing or it makes you drunk and feel extreme ecstasy. Ofcourse he picks only the regenerative ones for his guests. ..unless someone specifically asked for the risky ones.

2. Grapes for grillby’s bar. They both made a deal with each other in exchange for sans’ finest wines and grapes he would get free food and drinks from grillby’s. Or you know, grillby would just buy them straight off of sans if stock is low.

Ofcourse only sans knows which grapes are safe to eat. Sometime’s though, he loves fooling people once in a while.

The grapes on his body are the same as the one he grows on his garden too! but you can’t just pick willy nilly. He’ll pick one off from himself for you. don’t worry, they’re all delicious.

Contrary to popular belief, he actually doesnt drink wine that much. his favorite “”drink”” is grape sauce. no, not grape juice, sauce. He also cant get intoxicated by alcohol no matter the amount he has consumed. shove 2 bottles of vodka onto him and he wont even get dizzy.

His wine can range from different amounts of alcohol and sweetness, but it is the most richest and delicious wine you would ever drink. If you ask to have some wine from him, he’ll ask for your preferences. ..theres also a drink he can make, but it is extremely dangerous to consume and you would probably be crashing to every wall you see. it’ll make you feel really good though.

When the multiverse is involved most AU sans’ arrive into this garden. Say if you were to enter this AU, youd arrive in this garden.

Papyrus always tells him to stay under the gazebo because if he stays too long outside getting hit by sunlight, the leaves in his body overgrow and can sometimes even cover up his entire body. When this happens Papyrus scolds him but helps him cut away the overgrown ones.

Ofcourse sans most of the time forgets and just lays down on the grass anyway. lol.

dionysus sans - me!

[lsunstreakerl]

For the kink prompt: max wanting unconditional love and family bonds and Charles wanting max to be happy and pampered and then accidentally stumbling on the

Biggest breeding kink

That ever existed

this is kind of that? charles ran away from me tbh.

900 words, charles POV. kink prompt, explicit.

pairings: charles leclerc/max verstappen

relevant warnings: uhhh charles wants to get max pregnant, even though it's literally not possible. however you want to call that.

Max is holding one of the children at the party on his hip. Charles knows this because it's all he's been able to focus on for twenty minutes– he's completely lost his train of thought anywhere else, stuck on the way Max is shifting his weight to one side, hip cocked to accommodate the younger girl.

It's one of Pierre's friend's children, Charles is pretty sure. He isn't entirely confident, because the only thing he can think right now is that Max looks good– good in a way Charles didn't know he was into.

He feels like his brain has short circuited. It's not even that Max is doing anything sexy, it's just–

He's so casual about it, carrying on his conversation with some other guy, occasionally readjusting his grip so she doesn't fall.

He'd be such a good parent.

It's not a topic that's come up– their careers are in full swing, and Charles has a feeling discussing kids would be a minefield and half, considering how Max was raised, but–

Max is a natural. Charles wants to see him with a kid of their own, Max's blonde hair and round cheeks, Charles' eyes and dimples.

Charles wants it bad.

------

Charles isn't stupid. He knows it's not possible to actually get Max pregnant. This has not stopped his stupid brain from going on a complete trip lately, bending Max over counters and the couch, fucking him raw and wanting to keep it there, elevating his hips slightly after sex just in case it fucking–

He knows it's not possible.

Max is currently writhing underneath him, coming around Charles' cock as he fucks into him deep, because he wants to give them the best possible chance, wants to give Max all the stupid little round faced babies they could possibly want.

"Charlie, Charlie please–"

"I know, chéri, almost– I am so close, just a little longer–"

Charles slides into him again, presses their hips flush together, grinding in soft circles as he comes into Max again.

It's the third time today, and he hadn't even needed lube this time- Max had been open and slick with cum from this morning.

Max shudders underneath him, eyes hazy as Charles pulls out.

He presses two fingers into him, bullying one of their pillows under Max to keep his hips up.

"So good for me, going to be such a good–"

Charles cuts himself off, pushing cum back inside Max.

Max whines softly, twitching around his fingers. He's not exactly coherent– Charles can probably get away with it.

He's still not going to risk it. Doesn't even want to say anything out loud, because what if this time it really does take, and he's finally done it?

It's not possible. Charles knows that, but–

Their entire careers are about doing the impossible, so Charles is going to keep trying.

------

Max is eyeing him weirdly over the kitchen table.

"You are being weird lately, Charles."

Charles freezes, thumb hovering above where he's been scrolling nearby schools.

"No?"

Max narrows his eyes.

"Yes, you are. What has gotten into you?"

Charles winces, carefully bookmarking the tab into his private folder as he turns his phone off.

"Nothing. Why do you think I'm being weird? Maybe you're being weird."

Max sets his fork down, glaring at him.

"Not that I do not enjoy fucking, but it has been nonstop. And I of course do not mind raw either, but it has been– you are being weird about it, it's like you're trying to get me knocked up or something."

Charles blanches, wincing involuntary.

Max's jaw drops open.

"Are you serious? What the- Charles, what is going on with you?"

Charles slumps back into his seat, giving Max his best puppy dog eyes.

"I know it is not possible, don't give me that face– I just–"

He sighs.

"That party a few months ago, at Pierre's– you were so good with the kids, and it was– it looked so good on you chéri, you're a natural. And it has been stuck in my head every single day since then."

Max is looking at him like he thinks Charles is insane.

"So the solution was to– what, fuck me like we're trying?"

Well when he puts it like that...

"Oui."

Max drops his face into his hands, but Charles can see the tips of his ears flushing red, the way his fingers fidget across the bridge of his nose.

"That is so stupid, Charles."

"It is hot."

Max makes a soft noise, eyes wide when he looks back up at Charles.

"It is weird."

Charles slides out of his chair, stepping around the table to gently hold Max's face in his hands.

"Not at all."

Max looks away.

"Charlie, I do not– I am not sure if I..."

Charles brushes his thumb across Max's cheek, patient.

"If I actually want kids. If I could handle that."

He bends down to kiss the top of Max's head, shutting his eyes for a moment against the well of emotions behind his chest.

"I am not asking you for that, chéri. I promise. We can have that conversation when you are ready– if you ever are. It's okay if you aren't, Max."

Max huffs softly.

"And in the meantime you are going to keep fucking me raw, I assume."

Charles makes a face.

"You like it raw."

"But it is weird now–"

[gulpchulp]

my goodness some of y’all are exhausting when it comes to Gemma

People really wanting kids is very very common in a lot of circles. Probably less here on tumblr or reddit but amongst others just out in the world, stuff like fertility issues is a huge deal. A lot of people start to feel inadequate when they struggle with fertility although they really shouldn’t. But I think it makes people hurt because they feel like their body isn’t doing a thing that it should be able to do and feel like it is stopping them from reaching their goals.

Additionally, just because someone cares about their career (like Gemma) doesn’t automatically mean they don’t want kids. People can want both AND people can struggle with that. Especially women as they are often shoved into a box of ‘needing to choose one or the other’ (like i have seen some people on here say) when these two things can exist side by side. Wanting kids doesn’t ruin your career or mean that you have lost all ambition, it just means you want to be a parent.

And on top of that I really do not think at all that Gemma voluntarily left to do some random treatment retreat thing. I think that is a misinterpretation. Now maybe I am wrong and if I am sorry in advance but the way I see it is that Lumon took her. They faked her car accident the night she was going out, they had probably waited for a situation like that so they could take her (at night, alone). Yes her and Mark were having trouble but again this is very common amongst the general population. Relationships can have rough patches, you are just people and people are emotional and reactive (to different extents depending on the individual).

Honestly Mark and Gemma’s marriage stuff didn’t seem that unusual to me. I mean they weren’t in a great place but it was in a very normal way, a way that happens to a lot of people. That doesn’t mean that it is automatically great and that the way they were communicating with each other was amazing and is what should have to happen in a relationship but they were in a dark place. But I think that they were both stressed and tired of working towards a goal they presumably both wanted.

It was disappointing and stressful and when people are stressed they snap and they say or do things that they wouldn’t otherwise. Like Mark, who pulls away and gets snarky when confronted with pain or grief, he runs away not because he doesn’t care but because he does, too much. So I don’t think him and Gemma stopped loving each other and that she would run away to Lumon because they were having trouble. (I honestly don’t even think it would have ended in divorce or anything though that happens a lot too).

I get that pregnancy and birth plot lines are not for everyone, but I think it is narrow minded to write it off as a cop out or bad writing. Pregnancy plots and discussion of children and family’s have always been in the show, they just weren’t the main focus. And this was just one part of one episode. Gemma exists as a person outside of wanting a child, half the time we see her she is not worried about that at all, she is too busy being tortured. And yet many of you have latched on.

I think that sometimes in people’s discomfort with traditional societal norms (for a lack of a better term) they end up leaning into the toxic side of them. You allow Gemma’s desire to be a mother to overshadow all other things occurring and ridicule the show for including it. You blame her for her own torture and you think that if a couple ever struggles they do not love each other. You blame Gemma for everything happening in the marriage as if it wasn’t Mark buying the crib and later taking it apart.

Anyway yeah imma need people to start thinking critically in regard to Gemma cause these takes are some of the worst I have seen.

[abusivelittlebunny]

Omg thats sounds so... i can't even find a word for it.

I had this thought though, and while i don't like liam he's eh to me, what would be worse is if horner was actually a dick to most people who aren't max (max doesn't see that side of him much if at all) and liam explains to carlos after sex one reason he's been trying to get horners child in him is so he's not booted out of his seat for an alpha cause sex with horner doesn't really do it for liam and his ditzy act is just that, liam tells him the second reason stating how he can't have his seat if he doesn't have sex with horner regularly as it states in his contract while also saying that he'd rather be with an alpha that actually cares for him and that if he had horners child he could atleast stop having sex with him for a while, liam also feels bad for doing this behind max's back but he doesn't really have a choice if he doesn't want to be used as a breeding mare for the rest of the redbull team.

Anyway sorry, i just find the au your building to be fascinating and i wanted to add to it, you don't actually make this a thing in it.

–🍑

Further yapping with spoilers below the cut!

This is a very interesting addition and I'll definitely take it into consideration because I also do want Liam to want to get married to Horner to keep his RB seat.

I don't think Horner is necessarily bad in bed but he makes it clear to Liam that he's just a good lay to him, nothing more, and Liam is very much hurt by it because yeah he does want to be loved and cherished, another thing he envies about Max who has multiple alphas devoted to him.

It is an utter punch to the gut when he tells Carlos he's pregnant and Carlos tells him to get rid of it (while looking away, unable to face Liam even if he wants to harden himself more than anything, he can't help it, maybe his father was right and he's too soft for this world, catching affection for any omega he takes to bed and immediately wanting to claim his offspring with pride and joy). It's not the reaction he expected at all and it breaks him.

Liam can't drive to the clinic. He just can't. He's too scared, too beaten down and Carlos grabs him by the elbow and drags him to the car, throwing him in the passenger seat and driving there himself. His frustration comes from within, he's mad at himself for not wanting Liam to get rid of the kid despite how this was the reason why he did all this in the first place. He is so full of tension he's ready to burst at any minute while Liam is sobbing next to him, clutching at his tummy. He's only two months ahead, but during that time Carlos has been fucking him almost every day even after his heat ended, barely letting Liam out of bed and even then it was just to feed him, which always ended with fucking Liam on the kitchen counter or against the wall or over the table or on the couch or the floor- at one point Carlos broke the bedframe and barely even thought about it, fucking another load into Liam before carrying him to the guest room to continue.

Sure, Carlos started out mean, downright evil when he first cornered Liam in the factory and barely pulled his race-suit off to wreck him against the nearest wall before taking him home with himself, but that was only in the beginning. Carlos had a tender side to him, one that kissed his forehead and pet his hair while Liam laid down on top of him, exhausted and drenched in sweat, knot stretching his full cunt, and one that took his time and effort when it came to giving him nice relaxing baths and washing Liam's hair and feeding him regularly delicious meals.

Carlos couldn't possibly convince him that he was heartless with the beautiful nursery set up right next to the guest room where his children slept when Carlos could have them stay over. Liam looked at the amount of effort he put into furnishing the room, the decoration and pictures all speaking for themselves; he was so proud of all of his children and had their birthdays all marked in the calendar displayed in large on the wall with specific toys each favored in separate cabinets and he kept a journal of their development and updated it daily.

Liam flipped through it secretly while Carlos was cooking him something delicious inbetween rounds, giggling and kicking his feet in fascination as he learned more and more about the alpha that never even looked in his direction previously.

He now knew the twin alpha boys he had with Max were most partial to a plush lion and plush tiger each. He knew that the alpha daughter he had with George was partial to jazz and could be instantly cheered up from crying when he sang to her and rocked her in his arms in a silly dance. He knew that Oscar's omega daughter fell asleep in the car almost as soon as she was put in it and that she rarely ever cried but was just as stubborn as her mother. He knew Franco's alpha son preferred yelling over crying like he was already questioning his authority and how Carlos can't help giving in and spoiling him which is a little embarrassing but he doesn't like to see him in distress so he can't help it.

He knew how much Lando cried to him until he was finally able to keep the fetus and how much it meant to the both of them. He knew how beautiful he found Logan when he was breastfeeding their alpha son and how he loved that he inherited Logan's beautiful green eyes but Carlos' dark curls but he didn't dare to tell him that. He knew of the regret Carlos felt for hurting Charles by impregnating his younger brother but how much he looked forward to driving Arthur to his ultrasound appointments and how it looked like they would have an omega girl.

He knew that while Carlos couldn't ever move on from all the hurt has they have caused each other with Charles, he couldn't possibly endure the divorce finalizing one day and how he wasn't able to let go of his hand when Charles was in labor, feeling his pain through the bond making it the most personal and wonderful experience of his life and how he wants to experience it again and again, give their beautiful alpha son Jules many more younger siblings and end this god-awful separation that is killing them both.

Carlos was a giver, even if he pretended not to be. He was a good alpha and a good father and a good man. He couldn't hide that soft side with Liam glued to his side almost constantly.

He did take Liam back to his own place eventually but his stay there was brief. Liam knew when Carlos kissed him goodbye in the doorway (after pounding him again for good measure in said doorway) that he couldn't possibly let this be a one time thing that they could pretend never happened. The next day he packed his things and drove back to Carlos' place on his own and he didn't even need to say a word before Carlos picked him up and carried him to the couch for round 2. And he made him pancakes after.

A man like that asking him to get rid of their child, however unplanned it was, seemed impossible. Even when they reached the parking lot of the clinic, Liam just couldn't believe it. He begged him amongst tears, promised he'd never bother Carlos again, not make him take responsibility just please, please-

"Go." Was all Carlos said to him, not even looking in his direction, just staring out his window and clutching at the steering wheel with an iron grip.

It shocked Liam into silence and after a couple minutes of slowing his breathing, he did.

He numbly opened the car door and walked into the clinic, feeling like his head was under water as he walked up to the receptionist. He knew he was being asked questions and had been given a form to fill out but he couldn't really understand it. He wasn't able to answer anything, pen slack in his hand and the paper too wet to write on. Wet? Ah, he was crying again, he didn't even notice.

What he noticed however was the front door busting open with the volume of a gunshot, and he turned in time as Carlos near tackled him to the ground with the force of how he ran into him. He thought for a brief second that he was in trouble but Carlos had his arms around him, picking him up and squeezing him so tight to himself it left bruises.

But the pain meant nothing when all Liam could hear was Carlos' breathless chanting of: "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please don't, please don't do it, please, please, I'm sorry, I want it, I want our baby, I want you to keep it, please don't go through with this, I'm so sorry-," right against his neck.

Carlos fucking ran to the car, still carrying Liam as if he was afraid that Liam might bolt the moment he lets him go and the sex they had on the backseat was nothing short of a complete rebirth of their affair. It was as if a wall has been broken down, Carlos couldn't stop saying how perfect and gorgeous Liam was as he kissed him all over, how he couldn't wait to see what a beautiful baby he'd birth for him and how he would have Liam move in with him permanently as soon as possible and he doesn't care what Max will say, he can't let him get rid of his baby, he can't, he will protect Liam and their child with his life-

And it suddenly clicked to Liam.

Max.

Max was the reason why Carlos was at the factory. Max told Carlos to make a move on him when he was on the brink of heat. Max was the reason why Carlos treated him so rough in the beginning, hurting him and calling him mean things while now he was his pure adoring self worshipping him in the backseat while the rain hammered down outside.

Max wanted him to get knocked up and then force him to abort it to hurt him.

Liam clawed at Carlos' rain soaked shirt until he ripped it clean off his back and cried out as he pushed his perfect cock back into Liam's cunt where it belonged.

He kissed the praises right out of Carlos' mouth and rocked back against his thrusts, begging him to fuck him harder and harder and harder and never ever let him go again.

Oh how he was going to make Max regret to have ever been born.

[oceanz7]

࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔, 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔, 𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒚𝒑𝒔𝒆 ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

∘₊✧─────────────────✧₊∘

[requested]

🩷 paring: felix x reader

🩷 genre: fluff <3

🩷 warnings: nothing explicit, reader likes makeup a lot, silly felix is so in love, reader is so in love too, sharing lipstick?, kissing kissing kissing😭, use of nicknames: baby and love

🩷 A/N: i hope you like this. I got this idea out of nowhere, and i adore his lips [respectfully], so i wanted to make smth related to it ^^ I'm not sure if this is good or not but it sounded really cute in my head! Who doesn't love silly felix?

∘₊✧─────────────────✧₊∘

You loved makeup, especially lipsticks. Felix, your boyfriend, adored that part of you. He always watches you when you do your makeup, admiring the way you do everything so easily. You had only one small chair in front of your vanity before until Felix came into your life. He used to sit near you on the soft carpet or stand beside you to watch. Then you bought another chair for him since you wanted him to be comfortable as well.

Sometimes while trying on new lipsticks you bought or were gifted, you kissed his face to put a lip mark. You loved decorating his face with different shades of lipstick. His honey skin and adorable freckles looked perfect with your lip marks. He always giggled happily as you peppered his face with so many kisses, and he never got rid of the marks until it was time to sleep. He loved how passionate you were about makeup and loved to see you do it.

One day, you bought a new set of lipstick and were so excited to try it. You sat on the vanity and did your usual makeup routine except for a lipstick since you had to pick a shade from your new set first. Felix noticed you there, so he quickly came to sit beside you as well.

"Lix! I got this new lipstick set! It just came out with 5 different shades." You said in excitement looking at Felix through your mirror while applying final touches to your eye makeup.

"Really? Let's check it out" He replied, smiling. He was genuinely excited to see you try these new shades and matched your excitement. You noticed you both get so excited for your own hobbies, he gets excited when his favorite game gets updates the same way you are excited right now. You both love seeing eachother doing what you both loved the most. Gaming for him and makeup for you.

You opened the beautiful pink box which had a pink lace bow tied on it. It showed 5 different beautiful lipsticks and your eyes sparkled. You took them out and start swatching them on your wrist like you usually do. He looked at your intently and how you look carefully at the shades on your hand.

You pointed to one of the shades you swatched on your wrist. You thought it would look amazing on your lips. "I think this is my favorite one!" You told him as you turned to look at him, and he was looking right back, smiling. His eyes seemed to hold the universe and you almost got lost in them before he took the lipstick from your hand.

"Baby, can I apply it on you?" He asked, and you would never deny him anything, so you nodded quickly. "Of course, love." You turned to face him and he did the same.

You expected him to put it on your lips normally, but what he did next left you surprised.

He put it on his lips first, carefully so he doesn't ruin the shape of it. He turned to you and smiled before cupping your face, gently attacking it with kisses just like how you usually attacked his. He then finally kissed your lips. It was so soft that you felt like you were floating in clouds. You melted into it easily.

After he pulled away, you both couldn't stop giggling at each other. You noticed the lipstick smudged on his lips, so you cleaned it up a bit with your fingers while he looked at you with those eyes, admiring your face full of his kisses. When you looked in the mirror, you saw his lip marks and you almost cried, how can it be so perfect? You couldn't help but kiss him again. Even though the lipstick he 'applied' on your lips wasn't perfect, you didn't care. You loved how silly and cute he was, and you loved everything he did without doubt.

[starsinthesky5]

“fun fact, she wrote about half of the first draft of so high school in one sitting at an indoor practice one day. she was feeling a little too inspired that afternoon, watching him run around in those damn athletic shorts and the black compression tank that drove her mad. let’s just say the storage closet saw a bit of action that day..”

so basically hi yes i need this as a blurb immediately

contains smut and language. mdni

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

(november)

she only meant to sit there and get some writing done. and well, to watch her guy do his thing while she simultaneously did hers. 

really. that’s all it was. harmless football fun. or so she thought.

he was her biggest source of inspiration and she needed a good dose of joe to write her next song. daydreaming about him while he was at practice, only did so much, and well, since quite a few football anecdotes were being mixed into the song, she wanted the full-fledged experience. be right in the middle of the sport she was so fond of, and the sport her man excelled at. she followed him around with those adorable puppy dog eyes and that signature pout the night before, begging for him to take her to practice the next morning. at first he was hesitant, not because people would notice her, but because he didn’t want her to catch a fastball to the face. 

that beautiful, crafted by the angels, baby face. 

he didn’t care if anyone saw her because even though their relationship was still hidden from the world, everyone who needed to know about them, knew. and that included his teammates & organization. 

anyway, she convinced him (like she always does since he physically can’t say no to her) by promising that she’d spend the rest of the evening after the game on sunday watching game of thrones with joe. ever since he found out she’s never watched a single minute of—according to him—the best piece of visual media ever created, he’s made it his mission to educate her on the masterpiece that his favorite show ever. he’s been relentless about it, bringing it up at every opportunity, dropping references she doesn’t understand, and even going as far as calling it a “relationship red flag” that she’s never seen it.  

so when she batted her lashes at him and promised a whole uninterrupted evening of watching with him—no distractions, no excuses—he caved. just like he always does.  

because as much as he loves football, and as much as he takes game day seriously, he loves her more. and if having her in the background, watching him ball with those doe eyes while she wrote so poetically about his goofy ass, in exchange for her curled up beside him, wrapped in a blanket, fully immersed in the world of westeros, is the price to pay? 

well, that’s an easy decision.

she was just sitting there on her woodvale tour blanket—the one she brought with her to the private suite every gameday because she called it a good luck charm (that’s a story for another day). her bag placed next to her and her pens, books, and film camera scattered around her. she was tucked away in the corner of the indoor practice facility, far enough away not to disrupt the players but close enough to feel joe’s presence. her journal was open, glitter gel pen gliding across the page as lyrics spilled out in a steady rhythm.

truth, dare, spin bottles, you know how to ball, i know aristotle

“well, i guess that last lyric works for him too. perks of having an incredibly athletic boyfriend who also is the most intellectual person you’ve ever met," she muttered under her breath, giggling at how joe was literally the real life version of the dreamy love interest in every high school rom-com. the kind of guy who could ace a calculus test with one hand and throw a perfect spiral with the other. the one who made teachers adore him, parents trust him, and every opposing team fear him.

she sighed dramatically, twirling her pen between her fingers. “seriously, it’s almost unfair,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “where’s the flaw? there has to be a flaw,”.

there was no flaw about him. good luck trying to find one ;)

and then, a few minutes later, the man of the hour came into her vantage point, and she nearly lost her shit. 

joe, in those damn athletic shorts and that black compression tank clinging to him in all the right places, muscles rippling with every throw, sweat glistening on his temple—he looked too damn good, distractingly good. every time she shifted her gaze, there he was, a living, breathing vision of raw desire.

her pen stilled. her thighs clenched instinctively as she fought to focus on her words, but her eyes betrayed her every time, locked on him.

“i’m so fucked,” she sighed, watching how his back muscles contracted with every stretch of his arms. she was lucky that his compression tank wasn’t so meshy otherwise those red scratches all over his back would be on display for everyone and they’d know exactly why joe was a few minutes late to the meeting this morning. oh, and tee & ja’marr would never let him hear the end of it since joe was mr. discipline for those two and their um…personal endeavors. 

anyway, one thing that always did it for her, was that black compression tank. and joe knew what he was doing when he put that on in the locker room. since it was bring your girlfriend to work day for him, he thought that he should have a little fun with it since she wanted some…inspiration. 

she barely concentrated on writing the song for the rest of practice since she was too busy practically eye-fucking him in front of everyone. she was lucky that none of the coaches saw, but some of the female PT’s definitely were giggling in the corner. 

it’s not her fault that joe is literally the hottest man to ever exist. like, scientifically speaking. broad shoulders, strong jaw, those annoyingly perfect hands that look just as good gripping a football as they do gripping her waist. and don’t even get her started on the way his veins pop when he’s focused—it's actually cruel.  

it’s not her fault that every time he walks into a room, she momentarily forgets how to function. that her brain short-circuits whenever he wears that damn black compression shirt. that watching him lace up his cleats is somehow the most intimate, most unfairly attractive thing she’s ever witnessed.  

she is so down bad. (girl, get off the floor)

it must have been his luck, or the way he felt her stare, because as soon as practice ended, he was on her—storming over like a tidal wave, hardly giving her a chance to shut her notebook before his fingers curled firmly around her wrist.

“come with me,” he commanded in a low, rough tone that tolerated no argument.

he led her down the hallway, past empty locker rooms since he was the first one to rush out of the facility, until they slipped into a storage closet where the door clicked shut behind them. in the dim light, with the hum of players filing into the locker rooms outside, he pinned her against the cool metal wall. “you think i didn’t see you out there?” he smirked, his voice a mix of teasing and urgent need as his fingers slipped beneath her top, tracing the sensitive curve of her spine. “watching me like that? biting your lip, not even hiding that look—you were thinking about me fucking you right here, weren’t you?”.

heat pooled low in her stomach, and her breath hitched as he nestled a firm thigh between hers, the pressure igniting a desperate whimper from deep within. “joe–,” she began, voice trembling from her fear of being caught but also from the pleasure in her veins.

“nah,” he cut her off with a kiss, his hands roaming lower, slipping beneath the waistband of her leggings. “you don’t get to play innocent now,”.

her fingers dug into his shoulders as he captured her lips in a searing kiss—hot, insistent, his tongue exploring as if he’d been starving for her all day. his hands moved over her body with a possessive urgency, tugging her closer, pulling moans from her even as he tried to stifle them by pressing his hand gently against her mouth, but every so often a repressed sound betrayed her desire.

“this what you wanted, baby?” he rasped against her lips, his touch speaking louder than words as he cupped her through her soaked panties, the heat between them intensifying with each slow movement. “you were writing your little songs, getting all worked up watching me, weren’t you?”.

“joe, please,” she gasped, her body arching into him, every nerve ending on fire, aching for his touch. 

he chuckled, his hand slipping with expert precision until he was teasing her, a finger sliding inside her, then another, his thumb circling her clit in a way that made her gasp and squirm. “joe, someone will hear,” she sighed, pushing her head forward to rest on his shoulder.

“then just be quiet, love,” he murmured softly against the shell of her ear, his voice a blend of tenderness and raw desire. “i know you have a hard time with that, but you can do it for me, right?”, 

her response was a desperate, muffled moan as she grounds herself against his hand, the heat and friction overwhelming her senses, making her crave more of him, more of every touch.

joe groaned softly, his breath hot against her ear as he worked her open with slow, deliberate strokes of his fingers, teasing her until she was trembling against him. “you feel that? so fucking wet for me,” he murmured, his voice rough but quiet, mindful of the footsteps echoing outside the storage closet.

she whimpered, her nails digging into his arms, desperate for more, for him. “joey, please–," she whined again, only for him to silence her with a deep kiss, swallowing her needy sounds as he slipped his fingers out and replaced them with the thick, aching length of him.

a strangled gasp left her lips as he pushed in, stretching her inch by inch, the delicious burn sending white-hot pleasure spiraling through her. he cursed under his breath, gripping her hips as he bottomed out, his forehead resting against hers. “fuck, baby. you take me so good,”.

she clenched around him involuntarily, making him shudder, his control hanging by a thread. he pulled back and thrust into her again, slow at first, savoring the way her body molded around him, then faster, harder, the force of each movement slamming her against the cool metal wall.

she bit down on her lip, trying—failing—to stifle the moans threatening to spill from her mouth. the risk of being caught only heightened everything, made the sharp snap of his hips, the relentless press of his body against hers, even more intoxicating. “joe…ngph…please. fuck– you feel so good,”. 

joe gritted his teeth, one large hand covering her mouth as he thrust deep, his other arm bracing her against him. “shh, baby,” he panted, though he was barely able to keep quiet himself, his breath ragged, his grunts low and strained. “you gotta be quiet or this will be over faster than we want,”.

but how could she? when he was pounding into her like this—desperate, relentless, making her toes curl and her knees shake? when his cock filled her so perfectly, dragged against every sensitive spot inside her, made her see stars behind her eyelids?

her muffled cries vibrated against his palm, her body tightening around him, her release building fast and hard. he felt it, cursed under his breath, and doubled down—his fingers slipping between them, finding her clit, rubbing quick, precise circles that had her squirming in his hold.

“c’mon,” he urged, his lips brushing her temple, voice raspy with restraint. “i got you, baby. let go,”.

and she did—her climax crashing over her in hot, shuddering waves, her body convulsing, her nails clawing at his sweat-slicked skin as she trembled apart in his arms. “j..joe, oh fuck,” she whispered, trying so damn hard to keep it together.

joe groaned, barely holding on as she pulsed around him, her tight, wet heat milking him for everything he had. he slammed into her one last time, burying himself deep, his release hitting him hard, leaving him breathless as he spilled inside her.

for a long moment, they stayed pressed together, their heaving chests rising and falling in sync, their bodies still locked in place as they came down from their high.

his breath was still ragged, his body still pressed against hers as the aftershocks of their release settled between them. his forehead dropped to her shoulder, lips brushing over the damp skin of her neck, placing lazy, lingering kisses there.  “jesus,” he muttered, voice still thick with pleasure, a breathless chuckle escaping him. “you are trouble,”. 

she let out a soft, breathy laugh, her fingers slipping into his damp hair, scratching gently at his scalp. “i think you’ll survive. you’re my big strong man, you got it,”.  

he lifted his head just enough to look at her, his lips curving into that boyish grin that made her stomach flip. “barely,”.  

he kissed her then, slow and deep, his lips soft, worshipping, like he had all the time in the world. like his teammates weren’t wondering where the hell you two went. it was such a contrast from the way he’d just had her, rough and desperate—like he couldn’t get enough. now, he kissed her like he never wanted to stop.  

“so,” he murmured against her lips, nudging his nose against hers. “was that inspiring enough for you?”.

she giggled, nipping at his bottom lip. “maybeeee,”.  

his hands tightened on her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. “maybe?”.

she shrugged, playful. “i don’t know, i might need another round to really be sure. still some details to flesh out,”.  

he groaned, dropping his head against her shoulder with a dramatic sigh. “you’re gonna be the death of me,”.  

“but what a way to go, right?”.

he laughed, shaking his head as he kissed her again, all soft and sweet, like he was trying to memorize the shape of her lips. “yeah, baby,” he whispered, smiling against her mouth. “what a way to go,”. 

[karikarasuno]

part one

law is handy. well, he's good with his hands. he's a surgeon after all. so when he sees you struggling to push a box that's nearly twice the size of you into your home, he's out of his car in seconds.

sure his arms are sore from working all day and he feels the beginnings of a headache prick at his temple. but he can't help himself when he sees the box you've managed to wrestle upright almost topple over and onto you.

"fuck," you whisper yell, but it's loud enough for him to hear as he quickly approaches you. his hands somehow wrap around yours where they grip the cardboard. the sudden contact startles you and you yelp, jumping back in fear.

"shit, sorry," he's apologizing immediately, pulling the large box away from you and towards himself. "you looked like you needed some help."

"oh so you came rushing over to rescue me?" you smile when you realize it's just him and not someone attempting to rob you.

"i guess you could say that," he chuckles, shifting the box that was clearly too heavy for you to carry alone to one side so he could see you. "do you want me to bring this in for you?"

he watches your cheeks form a pretty blush which satisfies him in a way he doesn't really understand.

"that would be nice actually," you say, your eyes sliding from his hands up his arms. he appreciates the attention even though he won't admit it aloud. "you're probably stronger than me anyway."

"yeah, probably," he laughs through his nose, hiking the box a few inches from the floor as he follows you inside. he didn't think his offer through first, though. because stepping into your home is like stepping into another world entirely.

his house his clean. organized. marie kondo'ed to a tee. and that's not saying that yours is a mess. it's just cluttered. every place has a thing but every thing has a place. its the definition of organized chaos. yet it feels lived in. and comfortable. and nostalgic almost.

and the smell. it’s smokey like bourbon, but with a hint of something sweet. vanilla. oddly enough, it reminds him of his brother. now he’s craving a hug. how weird.

“you can just set it there,” he hears you say, pointing to an empty space in your bedroom. chopper comes bounding out, friendly and excited. you had to hold him back by his collar so law had enough space to put the large box down.

“thanks,” you say as law straightens, “it probably would’ve taken me twice as long to lug that in.”

“it was no problem,” he says wiping his hands on his scrubs, and trying not to cringe once he remembers he’s still in his work clothes.

“yeah yeah yeah you’re big and strong, I get it,” you wave your hands around. he blushes. hard. “but you don’t gotta rub it in.”

he drags a hand down his face to settle the burn in his cheeks.

“you know, i can build it for you too," he offers, realizing that if it was too heavy for you to carry, it might be a struggle for you to build.

"no, its fine," you dismiss him, gesturing for him to follow you out the bedroom. "if you keep being nice to me i'll eventually fall in love with you."

you say it so casually. so flippantly. and he knows you're just kidding, but it still sits in his chest in an uncomfortably full way. but he laughs to cover it up.

"alright then," he says walking towards your still open front door, "the offer still stands if you ever need it."

****

cora is over. he's decided he needs to use law's grill. not that law really uses it. but he conceded to cora's request, because he promised to cook dinner. and law is very much tired of eating grilled chicken and rice since it's the only thing he has time to make these days.

"i have steak, veggies, and a tray of shish kebabs i found at the store that looked interesting so i bought them," cora says, organizing the food on an aluminum platter to take out to the lanai.

he forgets the tongs, so law grabs those from his utensil holder before following cora outside. he's just excited to get a home cooked meal to be honest.

but what causes him to pause-- to stop fully in his tracks-- is the sight of you, downward dog on a yoga mat in your backyard. directly in his line of sight. he's not sure when you took up yoga or when you started doing it outside, but he can't help but stare.

"hey," cora snaps in front of law's face, "gimme this." he steals the tongs from law's loose grip.

you've now moved into child's pose, chopper slumbering peacefully beside you. he has to force his eyes away from you, regardless of how flexible you appear to be.

“who’s that?” cora asks, fiddling with the grill to turn it on.

“just my neighbor,” law says, trying his hardest to maintain nonchalance. but you make it harder for him when he looks up again and finds you standing beside your mat and stretching your arms out over your head.

you’re in a sports bra and shorts. and that’s it.

“right so i gathered that much,” cora responds, clicking the tongs together, “but what i meant was do you know her?”

“as my neighbor, yes,” law says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. cora rolls his eyes and directs his attention back to the grill.

and maybe, in an ideal world, cora would’ve left it at that, but that’s before he sees you approaching. chopper is running enthusiastically in front of you, tongue hanging outside his mouth as he runs straight up to the screen.

“chopper, down!” you scold as he places his front paws on the door.

“i’m sorry,” you continue, grabbing chopper by the collar and tugging him down, “we’re currently working on his over friendliness.”

“it’s ok,” law says, glancing over at cora who’s staring at the interaction with a little too much interest for law’s comfort.

“hi,” you greet cora, saying your name and smiling politely.

“cora,” he replies. “this guy’s older brother.”

he tilts his head towards law, busying himself once more with the grill. and law’s pretty sure it’s not even on yet.

“Y’know,” law starts as he approaches you, “you apologize to me quite often and you really don’t have to.”

“ugh, I can’t help it,” you complain, exasperated but your lips are stretched with a coy grin. “it’s a bad habit i picked up because of my dumb ex.”

law’s surprised. he wasn’t expecting you to be so open or forthcoming. so casual about your life as if you don’t mind sharing it with him. a stranger.

“anyway, i’ll work on it,” you chuckle, letting go of chopper’s collar now that he’s calmed down again. but now that your hand is free your cross it over your body to hold onto the yoga mat that’s propped on your opposite hip. he knows you don’t do it on purpose, but the gesture presses your breasts together in a way that accidentally draws his attention.

his neck grows hot.

“speaking of, did you ever get around to building that…” he trails off when he realizes he has no idea what was inside the box.

“oh! my dresser.” you shake your head. “turns out you need tools like a drill and not just the flimsy screwdriver I have in my junk drawer.”

“i could have told you that.” he finds you endearing. which is a problem because he knows he’s starting to like you. as more than just a neighbor.

he can also feel cora’s gaze burning holes into his back. nosey son of a bitch.

“yeah well, i’m working up the courage to go to the hardware store to buy one. the men in there are just always so fucking pushy, i hate dealing with them.”

“i have a drill,” he says plainly, trying not to show his annoyance about how offhandedly you refer to the weirdos that seem to lurk in every aisle of that place. like this is just a normal occurrence for you.

“can i borrow it? that would actually save me so much time and sanity.” your eyes light up, hopeful.

“i think it would be easier if i just did it,” he offers again. it’s obvious to him and maybe to you, but most definitely to cora, that this is law’s attempt at trying to spend more time with you.

“i’m starting to think you don’t trust me,” your eyes narrow playfully, and you purse your lips at him skeptically. “and after all we’ve been through.”

you pout. feigning hurt, but your eyes are alight with something else entirely. law’s stomach flips.

“it’s an expensive drill,” he shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pant pockets, silently praying that he looks unaffected by your antics; that are absolutely working on him.

“fine, when then? i’m free tomorrow evening.”

“that works for me.”

the smile you give him is sly. knowing. and completely disarming to him.

“perfect, it’ll give me enough time to think of how I’ll return the favor.”

before he can contest to let you know that you don’t have to return anything to him, your back is facing him and chopper is following happily behind you.

he watches you leave. mostly dazed from speaking with you. and enjoying it more than he probably should have.

but his bubble bursts when cora says, “hm, next time just invite her over for dinner. maybe that’ll make it less obvious that you’re trying to get in her pants.”

[backtothedrawingboard]

Tadc Cast Tk Headcanons

Here's some headcanons related to a request by @girlyc0ww :D

~~~~~~~~~~

Caine

Lee:

•Wasn't originally ticklish. He learned about it when Jax tried and failed to tickle him.

•After that, he gave himself the ability to be ticklish out of curiousity and now loves it.

•He thinks it's the perfect way to laugh when he's feeling down and will seek it out.

•Very loud laugh. It's one of the only times his announcer persona disappears and his real laugh appears. It's surprisingly high pitch.

•Definitely a squirmer. He'll flail and wriggle everywhere.

•Sometimes he'll pop out of existence.

•His worst spots are his armpits and hips, but he's pretty ticklish everywhere. Surprisingly, his feet are not ticklish.

•About a 7/10 on the ticklish scale.

•Loves aftercare. He doesn't really understand it, but he'll never pass down an opportunity for hugs.

Ler:

•Unintentionally mean.

•He used to tease without realizing it and was confused why his lee got all blushy. Now that he understands it, he overdoes it like CRAZY.

•He will reduce even the toughest lee to a flustered mess.

•Often pretends he doesn't know why the lee is laughing. "You must think my jokes are hilarious!"

•Surprisingly good at aftercare. He gives lots of head pats and hugs.

Pomni

I already have some that you can find here! But here's some more just for kicks!

Lee:

•It takes a while for her to be comfortable enough to let someone tickle her, but she will eventually allow it.

•She sometimes snorts, which causes her to go red and cover her mouth.

•She absolutely will not let Jax touch her. She doesn't like him or trust him. He gets slapped every time he tries.

•She's the only one (besides Zooble lol) that effectively makes him go away when he tries.

Ler:

•She figures out exactly what makes the lee squeal. Whether it's rough clawing or light skittering, she'll find out.

•Since her arms can stretch out, any squirming away won't be effective to escape cause she can keep holding on while scooting closer again.

•If she blows raspberries, she'll go so long her face changes colors.

Gangle

Lee:

•Not super ticklish because it's hard to actually tickle her.

•If you do manage to tickle her, go for her sides. Or what would be her sides. It's the easiest to grab.

•She's a squirmer. And since she's made of ribbon, she can escape easily.

•She doesn't really have a worst spot. She's equally ticklish pretty much everywhere but her arms.

•About a 4/10 on the ticklish scale just because it's so hard to get her.

•Easily flustered but pretty much anything.

•She usually doesn't mind tickling unless Jax is targeting her. She will try to escape no matter who it is, though.

•She enjoys aftercare if it's anyone but Jax. She's sometimes on the fence about it with Ragatha, too. But otherwise, she enjoys chin rubs.

Ler:

•Pretty shy if she's starting it.

•She doesn't usually start anything unless someone provokes her.

•She will get you if you start it, though.

•She isn't good at rough tickling since she's just ribbons. But if soft gets you, good luck.

•She doesn't tease much because it just flusters her.

•Good at aftercare. She'll hold the lee close.

Ragatha

Lee:

•Since she's a doll, she's squishy and easy to grab.

•Very ticklish and will kick you.

•She doesn't like it but will tolerate it if it will make you happy.

•Worst spots are her sides and belly.

•About a 8/10 on the ticklish scale.

•Teasing doesn't work well on her. It just pisses her off.

•She does enjoy aftercare. She'll just flop limply on the ler's lap and accept any affection from them.

Ler:

•Mean.

•So mean.

•She might not like it for herself, but she's a real tickle monster on the others if she wants to make them laugh.

•Pretty teasy. Not as much as Caine or Jax, but still mean.

•She'll do fake-outs just to make the lee squeal.

•Lots of "Coochicoochicoooo!"

•She might be mean, but she does want the lee to have fun and will ease off if they don't like it or are in distress.

•GREAT at aftercare. Lots of cuddles, and she's a plush doll so she's very comfy to lean on.

Kinger

Lee:

•Not ticklish lol.

•He'll pretend to be just to humor the ler.

•If he's out of it, he'll just ask what the ler is doing.

Ler:

•Nice ler.

•He'll almost never intentionally tickle anyone unless they ask him to.

•His teases are usually compliments and encouragements.

•He stops at the first request to.

•If he notices somewhere is a death spot, he'll leave it alone unless specifically asked to tickle there.

•Great with aftercare. He'll hug the lee and offer his pillow fort as a place to rest.

Zooble:

Lee:

•Don't.

•Just don't.

•They hate it and will either slap the soul out of you or get you back tenfold.

•Only allows Gangle tickle them.

•But in case you do dare, their tickle spots depend on what Zooble parts they have that day.

•Ranges from a 3/10 to a 7/10 on the ticklish scale.

•Don't even bother with aftercare. They'll just fight you.

Ler:

•Usually doesn't start anything unless their lee went after them first.

•Mean ler. They only stop after several "stops."

•They target the worst spots and go INTENSE.

•Aftercare includes a middle finger and a slap.

Jax:

I already have some that you can find here! But here's some more!

Lee:

•His tail wags vigorously. That's his main giveaway that he's having fun.

•After a while he'll just go limp and claim that he's dying.

•That's your sign to stop.

•If he does want it to continue, he'll either put your hands back on his sides or nudge your hand with his head.

•Lots of wild squirming and kicking.

•He purrs once it's over.

Ler:

•His burrowing instinct sometimes kicks in and he'll dig at at the lee's belly. It's not too rough, so it tickles like HELL.

•His tail wags when his lee is having fun.

•EVIL with raspberries. EVIL. RUN.

•He'll rub his face against his lee if he's fond of them (chinning!). He'll do this either while tickling or after tickling.

[revserrayyu]

3.1 Amphoreus thoughts [part 1]

***Spoilers ahead*** for everything covering the first trial, the fight at the grove and the quick bathhouse scene after, so don’t read any further if you haven’t finished. At the time of writing this I’ve completed the full story quest so be wary if I mention any details that may happen later.

Having us start off with Mydei’s pov and allowing us to use him in a couple fights was so cruel, if only because I spent quite a while getting distracted by his presence and simply admiring his.. everything. His voice actor did such a fabulous job this patch too.

I think it’s kinda endearing how fond his is of his mother and so ready to defend her at any moment. His father on the other hand, not so much.

So, it turns out it really was him that Phainon went ahead and “stabbed.” I figured it was during the trail, but the silhouette threw me off a bit so there were times I thought he was maybe just fighting himself instead.

No harm done however, not because Mydei is immortal or this whole fight is dreamlike, but because Phainon didn’t really hit him.. or Mydei blocked it off to the side. Either way, it’s something I didn’t while watching but yeah, it’s clear that sword didn’t even slice him.

I know people have their concerns when it comes to Aglaea, but the more plotting we hear of her off to the side, the more I enjoy her. I mean, it’s not entirely bad to believe that Phainon would fail his trail sense it just makes more sense for Mydei to own the coreflame of Strife given his lore.

On a less serious note, seeing him chat with some of the kids at the bathhouse and sorta scolding them from being away from their parents was cute. Who knew our tough king could be good with kids? This makes the whole situation of the 3.1 banners kinda funny since we got this tall, strong and handsome as heck man running alongside being Tribbie, Yunli & Huohuo, who are all on the smaller side.

I gotta say that whomever was voicing Mydei’s mother totally nailed it. The anger in her voice was spot on.

No offense to Castorice, but if I woke up and had literal death staring right back at me, I’d be terrified and probably pass out again right there. But huzzah, the notorious Penacony question makes its return.

ot gonna lie, but I’m actually quite pleased with Hyacine’s model. I didn’t have any strong opinions from the few teasers we saw of her previously, but she’s real cute in-game. She’s 100% gonna be an Abundance unit though, yeah? There’s no way a nurse could be anything else.

The amount of hate I see for Mem simply because the thing is pink is wild. I’m starting to enjoy them more and more and I always love catching whenever they’re able to actually speak words.

I can’t wait to learn more about whatever kind of history there is between Aglaea and Anaxa. We see them interact very briefly towards the end of the patch, where he forgets she’s even around and her thinking of him as an annoying child, so the tension is definitely there. I can only imagine how many times she threatened to end him if she treats Anaxa worse than us.

Well, too bad! Rules are made to be broken, ANAXA.

The way they worded this moment of disappointment was funnier to me than I could’ve anticipated.

It must be because the scholarly type of vibe I get with Dr. Ratio, but I originally thought Anaxa was going to be this self-centered guy, but at least he cares enough to put himself at risk for everyone else at the grove. With the mention of alchemy before and “equivalent exchange” now, I can’t help but think of FMA.

So we saw this image last patch too but it’s clearer now that Cyrene was killed by the Flame Reaver. It’s fair to assume she was a Chrysos Heir because of the golden blood, yea?

I know death is Castorice’s whole gimmick and her primary weapon is a scythe, so I wasn’t really expecting some ooze/poison/whatever we’re calling this stuff to appear. If it was shown in a previous trailer, then I don’t remember. Also love how we cycle through all our weapons. We saw the lance earlier while fighting alongside Mydei, we see us pulling out the feather-pen and Mem later on, and now we have our trusty bat back with us.

The Flame Reaver takes no time sending some powerful slashes our way, knocking everyone back in pain and we somehow manage to get those close to Castorice, even holding her up, without triggering her deadly curse? That’s concerning.

I’ve seen her combat, I’ve heard about the passive and I know Castorice is gonna be such a broken unit.. but I just don’t have it in me to pull when her banner drops next patch. She just.. doesn’t appeal to me at all? I enjoyed her more this patch than in 3.0, but that’s it. I see all the purple, the butterflies and the scythe and it just makes me miss Seele more, so to heck with meta, I wanna pull for my favorites! (I regret not pulling for her back in 1.4 each and every darn day.)

I know Cerces was sorta controlling Anaxa here and giving him some extra power to damage the Flame Reaver, but this arrogant smirk is doing something to me. Although Erudition units are probably my favorite, do I really need another wind dps if my E3 Feixiao exists? Who knows.

I remember last patch they said that Trianne only had enough power to launch a couple more century gates, so you bet I got hella nervous whenever a new one was opened. She really came in clutch to save us though.

Returning to the holy city and informing people that their relatives perished during the attacks at the grove was rough, but I’m like 95% sure this old man was voiced by the same dude who did Tiernan back in Penacony.

I like that they do mention the contact we made, but it’s a shame we don’t delve much into how we managed to survive holding death’s favorite daughter in our arms. I suppose there’s plenty time to learn more about this girl next patch when her banner drops. It’s bound to happen again anyway, so long as that one scene of Castorice coming to shield us with open arms in the Nameless Faces trailer actually happens.

Well, I’m so incredibly glad you had some quiet time to yourself without any life threatening chaos to deal with, Dan Heng.. how about next time you take the lead hm?? I volunteer you to be the protagonist next patch.

To think they would hold a silly challenge to see who would stay in the hot baths the longest right after returning from Phainon’s failed trial. It’s even better hearing how he claims Mydei only won because the guy is wearing less clothing.

Sorry to say this but I haven’t a clue on what y’all see with Aventurine and Ratio, but this is a guy pairing that I can get behind. The bickering these two constantly have going on and their endless competitive rivalry is fantastic.

And we’re gonna stop here for now. I think I’m good for only two more posts. Thankfully this parch seemed shorter than 3.0 and I can get a head start on jotting everything down sooner since I actually took a day off of work. (yes it’s because I was excited for Pokemon Day.)