#CRACK THOSE SUCKERS IN HALF

[raeathnos]

Sketchy dump!

Trying to get better at drawing humans/humanoid creatures by sketching shippy art of my two ocs. Bonus- updated ref sheet wips :P

This is Sky-Shifter (left, bottom) and Night-Stalker (right, top) two of the main characters from the webcomic I want to eventually do. They’re both half-demons, hence the human and feral forms.

Humanoid forms above, feral below.

I’m a messy sketcher, I’m sorry guys Dx

[anisespice]

thinking of possessive!haitani brothers who’d only let those who can beat them in a fight shoot their shot with you.

Despite many suitors that waltzed into your life claiming they were better company, it always ended the same way—broken bones and broken egos. Tonight was no different as lucky number seven tried it while you were topping off your drink. Either of them would’ve done it for you no problem, but where was the fun in that? Especially with the shitload of looks you got during your walk from their section to the bar. Only a matter of seconds before some sorry sucker became the brothers’ entertainment for the night.

“Oi. Twelve o’clock.” Rindou nudged his older half, jutting his chin in the direction of the prowling gigachad. “Get a load of this guy.”

Ran sized up the guy from over the rim of his glass. Good physique, clean shaven, styled like some haughty movie star, straight teeth and flashy jewelry to subtly showcase how fat his wallet is, no doubt. This one could be considered a worthy opponent, someone they could take their time toying with when they eventually swoop in to shut him down.

He snorted, setting down his drink. “What’s our move?”

Rindou clicked his tongue, tilting his head. “Give it a good three minutes, tops. Let him butter her up, pay for her drink maybe. If she’s not feeling him, make our appearance and take the bastard out back.”

“Hm,” Ran hummed, nodding. Then, his grin turned sharp. “And if she is feeling him?”

They both watched intently as you giggled away at whatever the guy just whispered in your ear, playfully shoving his shoulder while he flashed you an award-winning smile. The two brothers clenched their jaws at the display, that familiar venomous feeling bubbling in the pit of their stomachs and clawing up their chests. Ran appeared unbothered, aside from the unreasonably strong grip around his glass, while Rindou wore his irritation out on his sleeve—Furrowed brows, curled upper lip, stiffened shoulders that shook with adrenaline—They were pissed. And they were thrilled.

Rindou cracked his neck. “We make her watch.”

Even though they were certain you’d be upset having to witness another violent display of their devotion, it would surely pass. This was merely a reminder that no one could take better care of you than they could. It was a necessary evil, something they knew riled you up in the best way—Why else would you continue entertaining these bozos, right in front of them?

Ran nodded once more, releasing the glass that now sported a small crack on the side. “Couldn’t agree more, otouto.”

[livwritesstuff]

happy halloween bbys :) speaking of babies i felt like writing steddie w/ a little one again so here have this

On the morning of Halloween ‘01, Steve wakes up before Eddie, as he tends to.

He typically wakes up with their three month old, Moe – feeds her breakfast, gets her dressed for the day, soaks up all the time he can get with their girl before he has to head off to work.

Today is special though, seeing as it’s Halloween.

Steve and Eddie had agreed to not do anything big for Halloween this year while Moe is still so little – no trick-or-treating, that is. Steve had suggested getting a sitter for the evening so the two of them can go to that bar they like that does a whole Halloween night every year, but Eddie, like Steve, isn’t all that inclined to do anything that doesn’t also include Moe, so instead they’ll be ordering takeout from their favorite place in Chinatown and watching a horror movie after Moe goes to bed.

Eddie is fine with keeping things low-key this year, mostly because he knows that Steve knows they'll be going all out with all the subsequent Halloweens in their future. What Eddie doesn’t know is that while Steve had been running errands the other day, he just so happened to pass by the baby section of a clothing store, which had their Halloween selection on full display and Steve hadn’t been able to help himself.

Moe is all kinds of smiley this morning while Steve goes through the motions of their morning routine, getting in his fix of baby-snuggles before heading downstairs and feeding her breakfast while he starts up the coffee machine (for Eddie more than for himself – he thought having a brand new baby in the house might be the final straw that tipped him over to coffee drinker status, but he’s still perfectly fine with a cup of tea). She's still all smiles as Steve gets her dressed in the little outfit he’d hidden away from Eddie after he bought it last week – a puffy, quilted yellow onesie with big black stripes and felt antennae on the hood, tiny little white wings on the back, and a felted stinger on the bum. It’s not really a costume – not the way Eddie would define Halloween Costume, anyway, but it’s close enough, and anyways Eddie has always been a sucker for seeing their kid dressed up all cute. It’s a guaranteed home run in Steve’s opinion.

Like he usually does, Steve brings Moe into his and Eddie’s bedroom to wake him up.

“Morning,” Steve says cheerfully as he plops Moe onto Eddie’s chest. Eddie gives a sleepy grumble before his eyes crack open. It only takes him half a second to realize that Moe’s not exactly wearing her normal attire, and then Eddie’s got a big, bleary grin on his face as he takes the whole thing in.

“Are you my little bug, Lucy-Moe?” Eddie says as she scoops her into his arms and plants kisses all over her chubby cheeks until she's got a big drool-y smile on her face and she's making those little sounds that Steve is pretty sure means her first laugh is on its way. Eddie looked up at Steve with something like wonder on his face, "You said no costume."

"Uh, no. I said no trick-or-treating," Steve replied. Eddie leveled an eyebrow at him, so he said, "C'mon, man. It's her first Halloween."

"God, I love you so much Steve Harrington."

[impala-dreamer]

Go On and Beg

A Supernatural Story

~Dean Winchester has got quite a mouth on him, and he knows just what do to drive you insane...~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

3,033 Words

Warnings: NSFW, Dean's Slutty Lips, Oral, Multiple Orgasms, Smutty Smutty Smut. | Originally posted to Patreon July 2023

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

It just wasn’t fair. He had been teasing you all day with those plump, sexy lips, driving you nearly insane.

For some reason, he needed to steal a lollipop from the bank during witness questioning, sneaking a red sucker into his sports coat pocket while you were talking to the bank manager. He sucked that thing for a good half hour while driving around town, his left elbow on the window, his hand casually on the steering wheel. His eyes were only half on the road, the rest of the time checking on you, watching how your gaze was drawn to his mouth every time he made a sucking sound, and he did it so quite often. When he finally found the paper stick inside, he crunched down on the sugar and you were thankful that the ordeal was over. There was only so much you could do to hide the fact that you were squirming in the passenger’s seat.

At lunch, the bastard asked the waitress for a straw, which he rarely did. “Real men don’t use straws”, he’d often tease, but this was a different kind of teasing. He was listening while you rambled on over theories of the case, but his ultimate attention was trying to grab yours. So many times, he reached for the straw with his tongue, letting the wide muscle sneak out of his mouth and toy with the plastic tube, rolling it around a bit until you had no choice but to acknowledge the movements. Your body ached at the sight, thinking of that tongue flickering against your pussy instead of the pop-filled straw.

During a meeting with Mr. Pennacker, one of the victim’s teachers, Dean decided that trying to blow bubbles with his non-bubblegum gum was a grand idea. He slipped the white minty mess onto the tip of his tongue, pushing it between his teeth and puckering his lips. There was little hope for you then, as he cracked a tiny bubble between his teeth and smirked your way. Your panties were soaked and you wondered if the hose you wore would hold it all in.

While working that evening in the motel room, he seemed to think that chewing on his pen was a great idea, sliding the thing in and out of his mouth and puckering his lips tight around the tip. It was mesmerizing and utterly delicious the way he made love to the pen and your nipples craved the same attention, your clit throbbed in anticipation.

When he tapped the pen on his bottom teeth, you shifted in your seat, unable to take it any longer.

The chair legs scraped hard over the floor, the wood nearly fell tipped over when you sprang from your seat and lunged at him.

“Whoa!” The pen fell from his hand as he held them both up, offering a surrender that you wouldn’t allow. “What’s goin’ on?”

Furious and aroused, you grabbed a fistfull of his collar and tugged, forcing him to sit up straight and meet your gaze.

Dean smirked. “You seem pissed.”

“Oh, not pissed,” you assured him, stepping back to drag him to his feet. “Horny. Very… very fucking hot right now. And it’s all your fault.”

He stumbled forward as you stepped backwards, his shirt still clutched in your hand.

“Is that so?” Green eyes swept down your body and he reached for your hips. “And I wonder what could have made you so… turned on…”

Yanking his face down to your level, you snapped your teeth. “Don’t act like you haven’t been screwing with me all day, mister. I know your games.”

He licked his lips ridiculously slowly and your eyes dropped to them, fascinated, entranced, desperate. The fire in your soul died down and everything melted. Your hold on him eased and Dean snuck his fingers into the hem of your skirt. He knew he had you, knew what you needed, what you were dying for.

“You do, huh?”

Another swipe of tongue, a flash of teeth.

“Please…” You didn’t mean to say it, but sometimes your brain just let things slip out. Sometimes, he had control of you and that was just fine by you. “Dean…”

Pushing up on your toes, you tried to kiss him but he turned at the last second, kissing your cheek instead. You groaned and tried to move, but he had you caught between his giant hands, your face locked where he wanted. He kissed his way down your jaw and dipped his lips against your pulse, making your knees give out and your head flood with pleasure.

“Fuck!”

“Still mad?” he asked, lips pulling on your throat.

“Never…”

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you up and against him as he pulled your blouse to the side and sucked a mark on your shoulder. Your hands slid between your bodies, fingers fumbling with buttons and zippers, desperate to shed the Fed outfits and feel his burning skin against yours.

“Please-”

He laughed at your whisper and growled against your ear. “You want me?”

Your nod was insufficient and he locked his thick fingers behind your neck, jerking your face up to his.

“Say it.”

His tone washed over you and your pussy clenched at the emptiness. “I want you, Dean,” you breathed, still stuck staring at his impossibly juicy lips. “Want you so bad. Please.”

There was a rush of air, and a tumble of limbs. He tore at your clothes, stripping you down with rough fingertips and soothing kisses until you were bare but for the horrible panty hose and thin panties beneath. The elastic dug into your stomach and you moved to tear it away, but Dean grabbed your hands and shook his head.

“No. Keep them on.” His jaw twitched and his eyes fell down to the gusset between your thighs. “I like them.”

You groaned. “Really? They suck.”

His right hand slid down, fingers teased at the nude shimmer on your thigh. “Keep them on.”

You nodded absently and he fit his palm between your legs, rubbing upwards with a firm but infuriating push. It just wasn’t enough. It wasn’t fair.

“Please, Dean…” You grabbed at his shoulders, spread your legs to encourage him. “Need you so bad.”

With an evil grin, he stepped away, turning his back on you.

“But-”

Dean cleared his throat and pointed to the bed. “Lie down.”

Pouting, you did as he said, resting your head on the pillow and watching as he undressed. He took his time, but made no show of it for you, gently placing his suit pieces on the back of a chair while yours lay in a pile on the floor.

Waiting was horrible. Every inch of skin he uncovered made your pulse quicken. Each flex of back muscle had you leaking a little more. You squirmed over the blanket and bit your lip hard, waiting as patiently as you could.

Finally, he was finished and he turned back to you, naked and beautiful, tanned and perfectly delicious. Your eyes fell down his body and when you saw his cock, long and half hard, curved towards his left leg, your jaw dropped and your mouth flooded with drool.

“Oh, you’re too much fun,” he joked, laughing gently at you. “Doesn’t take much to get you all worked up, does it?”

You laughed at yourself and rolled your eyes. “I guess not.”

Before you could blink, he was on the bed, crawling over you like a lion, hands and knees digging into the old mattress. The springs creaked and your muscles tensed. His lips puckered and your mind slipped away.

Dean hovered over you for a long second that seemed like forever, toying with you, enjoying the pathetic look on your face.

“Please…”

He shifted and brought a knee up to part your legs and you gasped at the pressure against your needy clit.

“Dean…”

He dipped his chin to lick at your lips, but refused a kiss, pulling back when you reached up for him.

Water welled in your eyes and annoyance rang in your voice. “Why are you doing this to me?”

He clicked his tongue and cocked his head to the side, enjoying everything about you. “Doing what?”

You groaned and pressed your fingertips up against his chest, batted your lashes up at him. “You’re being so mean to me.”

His nose grazed over yours, his breath danced across your thirty lips. “How?”

“Teasing me so bad when you know I need it.”

Dean smiled and dropped down, crushing you with his weight and setting his mouth by your ear. His confession was a whisper that sent shivers through you.

“I just love to hear you beg.”

It wasn’t fair. It was all too much. You pushed your body up, arching against him, breasts, hips, lips, every bit of you calling out to every inch of him.

“Please, Dean. Please don’t do this to me. I need you.”

The need in your tone made him growl gently and he nipped at your ear before pushing up onto his arms. “There it is,” he praised, finally giving you a proper kiss.

You moaned into his mouth, wrapped your hands around his head, scraped into his scalp, pulling him, begging him with your entire being.

He was gone too soon, but he kept his lips upon you, sliding down your body with wet, suckling kisses that drove you wild. He nibbled on your shoulder, sucked hard on each nipple, plucked a bruise onto your belly.

Every touch was like a spark of bliss, every press of his beautiful lips drawing you deeper into his game. He moved up and down, back and forth across you, kissing you everywhere but where you needed it the most.

Covered in him, you whined, thrust your hips against his chest, begging once more.

“Need it so bad, Dean. Please. Please!”

He looked up at you, green eyes bright and happy. “What do you need?” he asked, eyes on yours while he dropped a kiss to the soft flesh of your stomach.

“You…”

He pulled up and shook his head. “Be. More. Specific.”

You squirmed, unable to ask for it. It was too strange to say it out loud, you were too shy to ever ask.

Dean saw the nerves twist on your face and he helped you out a bit, slinking down and spreading your legs with his broad shoulders. “Go on, Y/N… Ask me. Beg me. Say it.”

Pushing up on your shoulders, you looked down at him, hoping the pain on your face would be enough. “Dean… I- please? Please do it…”

Again, he shook his head. “Not until you say it. You have to beg me for it.”

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

Dean opened his mouth and pressed it against your covered pussy, breathing out a mass of hot air that penetrated the thin fabric and ignited a fire so strong that a cry caught in the back of your throat.

“Dean!”

He pressed his tongue flat against the nylon and drew his face upwards. “Say it.”

“I- I can’t-”

“You can.” He gnawed on the fabric lightly and your hips jerked. “Say. It.”

He moved his lips again and pressed his index finger against your padded slit, pushing in just enough to make your brain sizzle.

You snapped, finally breaking and begging with all you had. “Fuck! Please eat my pussy, Dean. Please! I need your mouth on me so bad. Fuck!”

Dean lifted his head and smirked. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

A desperate whimper answered him and he took pity.

Two hands on your thighs, Dean ripped the shining hose from your body, splitting it wide open. The tear echoed through your head and you melted into the pillow, rocked your hips, clawed at the sheets.

“Please!”

A second rip tugged your panties away and your cunt glistened, wet and needy, ready for him.

Dean hummed happily at the sight and flicked the very tip of his tongue over your flesh.

“God! Fuck! Please, please lick my pussy, Dean!”

Hands on your hips, he pushed his way into you, spreading your sodden lips with his stubbled cheeks. The sting was worth it and you cried out blissfully as his tongue dove into your throbbing cunt.

“Yes! Jesus, fuck!”

Dean chuckled into you, and the vibrations made your eyes roll. His tongue slicked up to your clit and he pressed two long fingers deep inside.

“You taste so good,” he praised, lips staying just above your clit. “So fucking good, baby.”

Bucking your hips, you drove yourself into his mouth, done with waiting, done with begging. He got what he wanted, now it was your turn.

He pumped his hand, flicked his tongue, pulsed his lips, tugged, bit, slobbered all over you. Your head filled with mushy pleasure and you rubbed your tits, pinched your nipples, rolled your body into him. You humped his face, loving the hard bump of his nose against your flesh and the thought of coating him in your juices.

Dean hummed as he worked, getting himself off while he got you off. When he felt your body clench down, he picked up his pace, fucking deep into you until he felt the snap, the rush of warmth run down his wrist.

“So good, baby,” he praised, but kept his fingers where they were, stroking that sweet spot inside. “One more…”

The orgasm rolled over you and you dropped a hand to his head, trying to push him away. He shook his head, this time with his plump lips against your clit and you screamed out, quickly clamping your hand over your mouth.

“Fuck! Please!”

“Gonna make you cum until you can’t think straight,” he warned, voice like a raspy song. He added a third finger and you pushed down onto his hand, unconsciously taking him in deeper. “Such a needy thing…”

“Yeah.” You tugged on his ear, wiggled your hips, wanting his mouth again. “So needy. Need your mouth, Dean. Need it.”

He licked the sheen from his lips and locked eyes with you. They never left even as he sank down and took a bite of your inner thigh. They stayed with you as he kissed the crease of your leg, licked a long stroke up your clit, set his lips around your clit. He kept his gaze on your face until your eyes rolled back and you fell down against the pillow, wrecked with pleasure, thrumming with another orgasm.

“So good, baby… So good…”

Still, he wouldn’t take his fingers away.

It wasn’t fair. It was too much.

“I can’t!”

“You can.”

Dean sealed his lips around your raw clit and sucked hard, swirled his tongue, flicked it like a metronome until he felt you break again. When your juices hit his elbow, he finally relaxed, pulling his fingers from your cunt and taking a breath.

Moaning, you squirmed on the bed, needing to close your legs and curl up, hide in the blanket for a moment to come down, but Dean wouldn’t let you rest.

He knelt between your legs and grabbed your hips, tugging you down and up. Your ass rested on his thighs and you gasped as he drew his thumb through your slick.

“No, Dean, I can’t-”

His teeth snagged on the corner of his mouth and his eyes went dark. “Oh, you can.” He rubbed on your clit lightly, dragging the need back through you. “You can come as many times as I want. I told you. Gonna make you nice and stupid.”

The aching tightness appeared again and Dean picked up his pace. His gaze was focused on your face, the way you struggled to hold your breath, keep back a scream. He pressed a little harder and saw the spark behind your eyes as the pleasure snapped again.

“Fuck!”

“Knew you could do it,” he whispered, leaving your clit to wrap his right hand around his cock. He stroked himself to fullness and tapped the head on your pussy, slapping gently.

“Dean!” Your eyes went fuzzy, your mouth fell slack.

“You want this?” he asked, rutting his hips and driving the shaft through your folds, teasing mercilessly.

“I do,” you whimpered, “please-”

“You know what you have to do,” he growled. “Go on and beg.”

Dean grit his teeth and nudged the very tip of his cock at your entrance. You could feel his heartbeat through his cock and your bodies pulsed together, both stuck on the very edge of madness.

He thrust his hips just a tiny bit and your thoughts emptied like he had turned on a faucet.

“Fuck me, Dean! Fuck my pussy, please! Need your cock so fucking bad, please fuck me. Please!”

A sneering smile tugged on his swollen lips and Dean gave in, sinking into your cunt with one fluid push.

Your body trembled and he shifted, setting your ass down on the bed and crawling forward to fuck you deep and hard.

The bed rocked.

The blanket rumpled.

Your scream nearly woke the neighbor.

He couldn’t move once he came, hunching over you with a stupid, empty look on his freckled face. His mouth hung open, his vision was blurred. He panted, shoulders moving fast as his heart raced in his chest.

“Holy fuck.” He was wasted and sated and somehow managed to pull out before he collapsed, leaving a slick stain between your thighs. “That was- incredible…” He drew a big hand down his face, wiping off your wetness, waking himself up.

A heavy, sleepy sigh passed through you and you rolled toward him, curling your arms beneath your head. “That- you got a good- that mouth is- fucking wowwy.”

He laughed sweetly and turned, curling in to face you. “Hey, it worked. I fucked you stupid.”

It was too funny, but he was right. It wasn’t fair. It was too perfect.

“Yeah, well…” You slapped a hand onto his cheek and smiled. “Anytime you wanna do it again, you just lemme know.”

Dean turned his face and kissed your palm. “All you have to do is ask…”

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[imagination-mess]

Ghost!Izuku Part Two

Previously: Ghost Izuku Part One Ghost! Izuku had to be homeschooled until the middle of elementary school. He would vanish on the spot whenever he was embarrassed or nervous. It took a while for him to get the hang of it. Thankfully, Inko found a school that takes in supernatural children, knowing the beginning years are much harder to get used to. This went on until high school, when all children are required to blend into society, should be able to. 

Ghost! Izuku purposely waits for the month of October to get old, sweet payback and is very calculative about it. He has driven people to be paranoid and him. He will be gaslighting people. What do you mean you heard noises? I didn't hear anything. WHEN IT'S HIM. 

Ghost! Izuku can get straight up terrifying when he gets mad. The whole building would feel haunted with the amount of flickering and things flying, along with the doors slamming shut. A poltergeist is now acting up in the building. The aura of the building will be way off. It's less intense when he is moody. 

Ghost! Izuku doesn't really notice it when he does it, but was told by his friends that he is so lucky that their partner didn't see the way his eyes were glowing. He gets territorial over you when it comes to other half-ghosts like him being around you, especially in public at parties. He just stares them down, like daring for them to come closer. The human soul can be used as batteries for the typical ghost, especially those who want to be stronger and cut corners. You can take as many human souls as you want, but it will backfire eventually.

Ghost! Izuku will move throughout the house with ease, especially if you are sick. He will magically spawn whenever you call to him. You are too sick to even realize that he appeared from thin air. If you did see him, you will gaslight yourself. There was no way your boyfriend would just spawn like a ghost. 

Ghost! Izuku is the most human among his group of friends, aside from his witch friend, Uraraka. The others have questionable traits that, no matter how they look, some noticeable instincts slip through the cracks. It's a blessing he doesn't have to worry about the fangs plus claws appearing or wanting to drink his partner's blood because they went over their limit when their typical blood feeding time was hours ago.

The worst Ghost! Izuku can do is become completely transparent and disappear completely in front of you, aside from the poltergeist typical behavior. The poltergeist activity can be blamed on faulty electricity.

Dating Ghost! Izuku will make you question things such as the lights flickering only whenever he is around to the occasional drop of temperature whenever you are purposely ignoring him.

Ghost! Izuku is already a little weird to begin with. He doesn't tell you that he is half-ghost until he is forced to. Some of his friends can't talk shit either; they are insane as him dating normies.

Please feel free to ask me anything to request anything within this universe. I am willing to do other characters. I am sucker to supernatural au.

Next: Werewolf! Katsuki Bakugou

[hanasnx]

nfwmb

MINORS DNI 18+ WARNINGS: dead dove do not eat | f!reader | gunplay | sexual content | implied smut | degradation | dumbification | size difference

The first time you’d seen him do it. You’ll never forget the first time you witnessed JJ MAYBANK pull a gun. It was a rush, adrenaline shooting through your veins you thought you felt sparks at your fingertips as you darted to the scene, intent to make him hear you when you told him to put it down. JJ was never one for authority.

Part of you is angry with him for his short fuse, the part of you that’s constantly at war with the other half who’s head over heels. It’s easy to become disgusted with yourself remembering how he looked when he handled a firearm. The vein in his biceps prominent when they swell as he takes stance, the way his broad shoulders poise, the crease in his brow as he trains his blazing focus on the poor sucker unlucky enough to be on the receiving end of his wrath. It pounds your heartbeat, so fast you’re sure he can hear it rattling in your chest.

“S’up with you?” he asks through his panting, furrowing those brows at you as he scans you up and down with a subtle nod. The weapon is still in his hand, his long index finger lining the barrel of it. You moisten your lips at the sight of the sheen of sweat on his skin, wearing his stupid wifebeater and backwards cap. You take too long to answer, and he follows your gaze to discover its fixation. “Oh, this?” He raises the weapon to your view and you gulp. “Don’t worry, baby, safety’s on.” he tells you with a curl of his cracked lips; he lifts his top behind him to tuck the mouth of the gun into the waistband of his pants, and the flash of his exposed skin on the lower abdomen makes you feel even more faint. You’re practically itching to lick at his treasure trail.

“Oh, Jay, it’s not that.” you protest without thinking, and as he approaches you, you can practically see the gears in his head turning.

He flashes an expression of puzzlement as his big hands come to rest at the crook of your neck where it meets your shoulders. His index fingers stroke and toy at your skin in a minutely ticklish way, and you try poorly to stifle your grin. A sense of relief washes over his countenance as he tilts his head at you, intrigued curiosity replacing it. “What is it then?”

You get him alone to show him how much you actually like it. Watch with morbid interest as the mouth of the firearm traces your collarbones, and down the valley in between. “What… the fuck…?” he exhales in quiet awe, said more like a statement than a question. He can’t tear his fucking eyes away from your pretty skin’s indentations and blushes when a weapon harshly draws across it. How you sit nice and obedient for him, trusting him to do this to you. In sheer gratitude, he meets your heated gaze, exchanging a silent conversation with you by gradual grins and elated scoffs. You nod for him when you want him to go further, and baby, JJ is going all the way.

He’s got the mouth of the gun stuck between your legs, gliding up and down as if it was his own hand stimulating your sex through your little jean shorts. Lips parted, he makes himself a show, driving the very tip of the weapon into your clit, screwing it in with enough pressure to elicit a whimper from you. The sweetest fucking sound he’s ever heard. One that comes from his baby while she’s getting her parts played with by a crazed boyfriend with a fucking gun. He can’t help but string you along. “You want this, baby, you fuckin’ want this?” There’s an edge to his voice, a little gruffer, as he wedges the item even further, a pain shooting up through you from your squished clit. It gooeys your insides. “I’m mackin’ a little freak wanting a gun pointed at you like this. Got any idea what this thing can do to you? Or are you too stupid to think ahead? Huh?” He towers over you, intimidates you, you’re stuck staring up at him with big round eyes and pitiful upturned brows as you actually chase the touch that he’s giving you.

He laughs at you. “Jesus, missy, you’re crazier than me.” he muses, until another idea strikes his mind, slowing his movements. He brings the weapon up to inspect it, shaking it out to hear it’s metal insides clink together. There’s a darkness to his eyes when he meets yours again, raising the gun into your view, mouth of it to the sky. You follow that long finger again. “You want this thing inside you?”

[de4dlyniightshade]

Y'all think Reid would make himself one of your Christmas presents? Like, he'd either ruin you or let you ruin him.

yes absolutely!!!

STRAIGHT INTO THE HEADCANON SEGMENT!!!

would put one of those little bow things that you're supposed to stick to presents on his crotch as a joke but it just ends up with wrapping gifts completely abandoned, both of you ending up on your couch with you in his lap, grinding on him until he cums in his pants ;3

spencer lovvveeeessssss occasion sex like birthday sex, valentine's day, anniversary's but he's a sucker for christmas sex, just the cosy feeling in the morning when you wake up, the slight chill in the air being the perfect excuse to use the most effective means to warm yourselves up.

christmas becomes a very intimate day for you two, especially when you're on your own and don't have to go to any dinner parties, the whole day being spent joint at the hip, watching cliche christmas movies snuggled up on your couch and drinking hot chocolate, frequently getting sidetracked and spending half the movie making out and trailing your hands all over each other.

spencer definitely hates the cliche gift of sexy, complicated lingerie for you, it just never really does anything for him, of course he thinks you look incredible whenever you do wear anything especially sexy but he'd rather get you something more basic that you can actually wear often.

gets so flustered when he opens a gift you got him, ripping off the wrapping paper to find a vibrator, which was a complete gag gift but when he's away on a long case you can't resist cracking it open, spencer finding it in your bedside table when he comes back.

quickly discovers that he actually likes using toys on you when he comes home to you using the vibrator again when he had to stay late and you couldn't wait any longer, spencer offering to take over for you, which was something you'd never say no to.

loves to come home with you after a christmas party and just immediately head to the bedroom and practically rip the clothes off each other so he can be buried inside you after an exhausting day, letting you ride him and use him however you want.

honestly got very sidetracked but what can i say? i'm a story teller🤷‍♀️

[darlingshane]

Todo Tuyo (All Yours)

Pairing: Criminal!Shane Walsh x Spanish!Pregnant!Reader

Summary: Some bonds are unable to explain, and yours with Shane has always been a mystery. No matter how many times he's hurt you, you always ended up taking back his sorry ass. This time, after three years gone, when he comes back, you're married and pregnant. And not even that can challenge that bond.

Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Heavy Angst, Smut, Pregnancy Kink, Breeding Kink, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Vaginal Sex, Complicated Relationships, DV, Abuse, Mention of drugs and violence, bittersweet ending.

Word Count: 10.9k

— Read below or at AO3.

A/N: A few important things you should know before reading since I couldn't sum it all up:

— The DV and Abuse warnings don't apply to Shane. — Reader's husband is the abuser. — This is kind of a Dark!Shane version, but he's soft for reader, I promise! — I wrote this as a Spanish!Speaking Reader. — Shane is fluent in Spanish. He learned for her. — I tried to keep Spanish down to a few sentences only, but I translated them all in (bold, italic parenthesis like this). — I won't be translating however all the pet names, just when I need to. But for reference – Shane calls reader 'Corazón' (it means heart, it's the equivalent of Sweetheart) and Reader calls Shane 'Cielo' (it means sky, and it's just like Sweetheart or Honey.)

“What the hell are you doing here?”

You only cracked the door as far as the chain on the lock let you. Through it, you could only see half of your ex-boyfriend's face shadowed under a worn-out baseball cap from Jim’s Body Shop. A handful of curls stuck out on the sides. His chin had a nice shadow from a three-day stubble, and the bags below his eyes gave away that he had been up for longer than he should have. He was still the hottest motherfucker you’ve ever laid your eyes on. No matter how much time had passed since the last time you saw him, Shane Walsh aged just like wine and all you wanted to do is pour yourself a cup of that.

That’s how strong was his hold on you.

You didn't have to be a genius to see that he wanted something from you. That was his MO, he only showed up when he was in trouble and had no one to turn to but poor old sucker you, who never had the guts to kick him to the curb.

“I need a place to stay for a couple of nights,” he said under a breath.

“Things have changed. You can’t stay here this time.”

“Look, I know it's been a while but–”

“A while?” you scoffed. “It's been three years, Shane.”

“I know that. But I don't really have anywhere else to go right now. I drove all the way from Wyoming just to see you. One night. That’s all I'm asking, Corazón. I won't get in your hair. I promise.”

You hated saying no to him, even after all this time. Even after all the times he's let you down, you couldn’t stand seeing him hurt with nowhere to go, but this time there was nothing you could do to help him. Except…

“I could get you a room at The Sennott for half off. If you need money…”

“No, keep your money. I'll work something out. Could I…”

“What?”

“Before I go, you think I could have a cup of coffee with you?”

You shook your head as his face leaned closer to the door frame.

“C'mon, baby, just one for old times,” his plush lips barely mumbled.

You caught a glimpse of those big, sad puppy eyes of his he pulled off so well. Whether it was genuine, it didn’t matter. The fact is that it worked like a charm and against your better judgment, you sighted, unlatched the chain and welcomed him into your home.

After all that time gone, you still had a soft stop from him, and you doubt that’ll ever change. Alas, he’d always be the man you’ve loved the most. That sucks for you and for him. Cause he has a tendency to disappear on you when you most need him, and after the last time, you decided that you wouldn't be waiting for him anymore.

“Wow, you’re pregnant,” taking off his cap, his eyes grew wide when he stepped inside the house.

“No me digas.” (You don’t say.)

It was hard to miss. You were seven months along already and couldn’t even believe it happened so fast.

Your palm drew the curve of your rounded belly over the t-shirt you were wearing. The hem barely touched the top of your thighs, and that’s where he looked next.

“You always had beautiful legs, Corazón,” he smirked, placing the backpack he was carrying on a chair.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” you turned around and thought about all those times your thighs were wrapped around his head while he ate your pussy.

“It never did,” Shane scoffed, fixing his messed up curls.

You picked up the carafe from the machine, filled a mug with coffee without even bothering with heating it up.

“Five minutes. He’ll be here soon,” you said firmly, handing over the mug.

“I’ve always liked it cold anyway,” he lifted the cup up to his lips as you leaned on the counter. “You’re not having any?”

“It’s not good for the baby.”

“Oh, right.”

“What have you been up to, anyway?”

“Do you really wanna know?”

“Not really,” you crossed your arms and paused. “I guess I thought I deserved to know why you didn’t come back when you said you would. I saw Rick a few months ago and said he hadn’t heard of you in a while… led me to believe you were dead.”

“Shit happens.”

“Shit happens? Me lo merezco por preguntar,” you couldn’t hide the frustration in your tone. (I deserve that for asking.)

“I thought you’d be over me.”

“I am.”

“Ain't seem like it.”

“Mira, cabrón,” you showed him the ring around your finger, and pointed once more at your pregnant stomach. “I’m completely over you.” (Look, bastard.)

“That doesn’t prove shit. Looks like you wanted to one-up me, and move on as fast as possible so next time I’d show up, you’d have an excuse to throw me away.”

“Yeah, maybe. Doesn’t mean that I’m not over you.”

“You were always a terrible liar, you know that? Do you even love the poor sucker?”

“Why do you care?”

“Cause we both know, that no matter how much you hate me, you’d never love anyone as you love me.”

“That’s bullshit, Shane.”

“Sabes que es verdad, Corazón. You also know that no man would ever care for you like I do.” (You know that’s true, sweetheart.)

“If that were true, you wouldn’t be leaving every five minutes. You think you can just come here like nothing happened?”

“It's worked before.”

“It’s too late now.”

“Is it?”

He took one more sip from his coffee before placing the mug on the breakfast bar and going around it to have you closer.

As your stare fell to the floor, he noticed the bruise on your temple.

“Hey, what happened here?” he lifted his hand to your face and gently touched it.

“Nothing,” you swatted his hand away, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I hit my head with the cabinet last night.”

“Did he hit you?” His brow knitted.

“I told you. It was the cabinet.”

“Hey, mírame,” he placed a finger under your chin, and tilted up to capture your watery eyes. “Dime la verdad. ¿Te ha puesto la mano encima?” (Hey, Look at me. // Tell me the truth. Did he lay his hand on you?)

“Tienes que irte.” (You gotta go.)

“¿De qué tienes miedo, Corazón?” (What are you afraid of, Sweetheart?)

“No tengo miedo de nada… You just can’t be here when he comes back.” (I’m not afraid of anything…)

“Alright, I’ll go if that’s what you want, but I need to do something first,” he lifted his hand up to your face and framed your chin.

“Shane… don’t…”

“Sh, sh, it’s okay,” he said under a breath, placing his thumb gently on your lips.

“Please,” You weakly pleaded, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to stop what was about to happen.

His tongue swiped across his lips, and the next second they were gently pressed against yours.

Your eyes welled up and quickly shed a few tears upon that first initial contact. It didn’t take much to get you under his spell once more, for the umpteenth time. No matter how many times you’ve tried to convince yourself how fucking toxic he is, you fell for it every damn time like an idiot. It didn’t matter that you were married either, as bad as it sounds, what you and Shane had was something that couldn’t be stopped by any means. Only death could put an end to it. It didn’t help either that you weren’t on the best of terms with your husband either, so guilt went out the door the moment you let Shane in.

Unable to pull away, you let him deepen the kiss and invade your mouth with his tongue. He went slow and tender. That’s how it always started, he’d play on your good side, and once your defenses were down he’d go in full swing. He’d breathe in your air, soak in the taste of your mouth, take all the space until you were left breathless.

You linked your arms around his neck, and kissed him back, following the sweet undoing of his familiar lips as they fused tightly with yours.

When he tried to press himself closer to your body, your pregnant belly got on the way.

One of his palms tenderly landed on top of your stomach and drew the big curve that was keeping him away from you. Your heart fluttered as the small gesture.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are like this?” he broke the kiss, and looked down at his hand, while your head responded with a faint shake. “Eres preciosa, mi vida. I’d’ve put a baby in you before if that’s what you wanted.” (You’re gorgeous, my life.)

“I know, that’s why I never asked,” you placed your palm on top of his roughed-up knuckles. “Have you beaten up someone?”

“Something like that.”

“You’ll never change. Will you?”

“I could if you ask me.”

“You are who you are, Cielo. I can’t ask you that, and you can’t change for me.”

“Cielo. I missed that,” his face beamed, framing your tummy with both hands and dipped to kiss your forehead.

“One more for the road?” You held his face, and it was you this time the one capturing his mouth.

You kissed him as if this was the last time you’d ever see him. You needed something to hold onto. It was so fucking naive of you that he’d ever change or settle. He had another mistress, one that had no lips or body or soul that led him to the darkest of paths far away from yours. It was impossible to compete with that. Until he was ready to let that life go, there’ll be no future between the two of you.

Maybe one day, you kept hoping as you basked in the swirl of his tongue. He was so fucking needy and hungry for you, it became desperate. He panted in your mouth, had trouble catching his breath cause all he wanted to do is swallow you all.

His hands moved to your ass, gripped hard at your flesh. You wish you had the power to stop all that at once. You could, but you wanted him just as much. Your hormones were not helping either. They only fueled the flame that was still clearly alive between you.

You moaned in his mouth, as the sloppy doing of his tongue drove you out of your mind. One of his hands reached further down your bottom, slipping between your thighs to feel the dampness pooling on your underwear. He always knew how to get you wet with just a kiss, but this was something else entirely. You were sopping wet. He could feel your juices seeping through the fabric.

“Say that you don’t want me again, I dare you,” he drawled with a shit-eating grin.

“Shut up. I need you to fuck me,” you sucked in his lower lip hard between your teeth, tugged it, and let it go when it was bright pink.

He scoffed at your request, not of mockery but pride of being still able to incite you like that.

“We don’t have much time. You have to do it fast,” you warned and turned around, pushing your panties down to your ankles as he undid his belt and fly.

“Your wish is my command, Corazón.”

Shane quickly pulled out his cock. It was half hard.

Biting on your lip, you glanced over your shoulder to see him jerking himself off up to a firmer completion.

You stuck your butt out and propped your forearms on the hard surface of the counter, as Shane guided his cock oh so carefully between your tender lips.

“I’ve never fucked a pregnant woman before. I don't wanna hurt you,” he confessed in your ear as his hardness stroked just a little further into your walls.

“Don’t overthink it. Baby��s safe. Just fuck me like always.”

“Hmm,” he followed your order and after a couple of experimental thrusts, the pace of his hips skyrocketed to a punishing level that felt like heaven and hell rising at the same time between your legs. He kept your hips locked in his hands, fingers digging in your flesh as you tucked one of your hands between your legs to feel your juices leaking all over your legs and floor. It was like nothing else you’ve ever felt. Most of it was partially hormonal, the other part was a mix of being touch-starved from your husband, and missing Shane, and his cock like crazy.

You rubbed your clit and all of a sudden one of his hands slipped under the hem of your shirt at the front to feel your breasts.

“Fuck, you’re so big and juicy, mi vida,” he grunted, squeezing your overly-sensitive, pebbled nipple that felt like a rock between his fingers. His face leaned closer to whisper in your ear. “I’d put another baby in there if I could. You’d like that?”

“God, I would love that,” you moaned, throwing your head back against his shoulder. “Come inside me, mi amor.”

“Yeah? Tell me you love me, and I’ll give you anything you want.”

“I love you, Cielo,” you gasped as he removed your hand from your pussy to replace it with his own. “I fucking love you and your big cock. Please. Hmm, fuck… fuck, fu…”

“There, mi vida.”

You felt your soul being pulled out of your body when the winning push forced a torrent of pleasure that traveled over your body as your opening contracted around his dick. You went up so high, so fast, you almost didn’t feel when he shot his load.

When he slipped out of you, you quickly went down to pull on your panties back in place. You almost felt embarrassed at the mess that you made on the floor and all over the cabinets below the counter if it didn’t feel that good.

“You really have to go now,” placing a palm on his chest, you glanced out the window, knowing that your husband wouldn’t take much longer now.

“I wanna see you again.”

Your eyes welled up. “We can’t do this again, Shane. If he finds out…”

“Please,” he pleaded over and over in between a trail of desperation and kisses peppered all over your face and neck. “I can’t live without you, mi amor, mi cielo, mi corazón. Te necesito.” (My love, my sky, my heart. I need you.)

“Shit. Alright,” you paused to collect your thoughts. “Come tonight. After ten. He’ll be gone the whole weekend. If there’s a truck on the driveway you turn away.”

“Got it.”

“Leave your car at the end of the street, you walk all the way here, and come at the back. ¿Entendido?” you pointed at the back door in your kitchen. (Got it?)

“Alto y claro.” (Loud and clear.)

“C’mere, Cielo,” you wrapped your arms tightly around him, and inhaled the smell of his neck for a long moment before sending him in his way.

You went into the bathroom to clean yourself up and saw his seed had dripped from your pussy to your panties. It was still warm and wet. You dabbed your fingers on it and shamelessly brought it to your lips to remember how his cum tasted. Then you pushed those same fingers into your opening to pick up the remains of you and him and licked every bit of it off your digits.

You hated that he had turned you into this mess of a woman that couldn’t ever resist him. Some bonds are unable to explain, and as much as you hated him, you loved him even more than you thought.

As you wiped your legs and changed your underwear, you felt the roaring of your husband’s truck pulling up the driveway before stomping into the house. You hurried to clean up the mess in the kitchen. You could tell it smelled like sex, but Clayton had been drinking as usual, and his senses were shot by the stench of alcohol.

You really knew how to pick them. First Shane, then Clayton. To be fair, Clay was a completely different person when you met him. It wasn’t until a few months ago that he lost his job, and you got pregnant that he started showing his true colors. While Shane, you always knew what you were in for cause he was always the same person from beginning to end, he never hid what he was.

Every other weekend Clay went to a cabin up in the mountains with a group of friends to hunt and whatever the hell they did cause hardly you ever saw anything brought back from those alleged hunting trips. He just brought more dirty clothes soaked in booze and muddied boots. Lately, you didn't even care. You actually preferred when he was gone cause it got him out of the house and those weekends away were the only times you could breathe.

For all that he had put you through, you didn’t feel guilty in the slightest from doing what you did with Shane. God knows Clay would probably be fucking around. You were sure of it cause one, he hand’t touch you since you told him you were pregnant; and two you weren't blind or deaf either, and had caught him talking overly friendly, like he used to talk to you at the beginning, over the phone a couple of times when he thought you were asleep.

“Did you have coffee?” Clay picked up the mug with coffee grounds that Shane left on the counter. “You shouldn’t drink it.”

“I didn’t have any. I had a friend over earlier and I forgot to clean it up.”

“You know how I feel about having people in my house when I’m not here.”

“It’s my house actually,” you pointed out. “What? Are you gonna forbid me from having friends over now?”

You knew you shouldn't poke the bear when it was drunk, but sometimes your mouth ran faster than your brain.

“We're married, remember? What's yours is mine and all that shit. Don't forget that, bitch.”

God, you had to refrain so hard from punching his face.

As you headed out of the kitchen to avoid getting yourself further into trouble, he grabbed your arm, stopping you from leaving.

“I am your husband. And this is my house. You'd be nothing without me. Show some respect.”

“Men who hurt their wives, their pregnant wives, don't deserve any respect,” you snarled. “Now let me go before you do something you might regret later.”

He looked at you with sharp steel eyes, clutching your arm so hard it felt like he might snap it in half. He wanted to hit you so badly, you could tell, like the night before when he swung the remote across your face when you accidentally knocked over his beer.

You held his stare just as defiantly, and pulled your arm free from his grasp. It left a mark that turned into a bruise quickly after.

Staying out of his way, you went into the nursery and sat down with a book on the armchair to read while he gathered his hunting supplies. You heard him heating up some leftovers and showering before leaving.

All you could think when you listened to his truck drive off was seeing Shane again. You had a couple of hours left to get ready. It was a safe window for you to know that your husband was up in the mountains and wouldn't be coming back till Sunday. You followed his friend's updates on Instagram to keep track of him. Trent was an avid poster, and it was the perfect way to keep tabs on him to avoid the imminent disaster of him finding you with your ex.

You took a shower and changed the sheets of your bed, so they wouldn't smell like Clayton. You were dead set on banging Shane in your bed. Technically, he had fucked you many times before, pretty much in every room of this house but never in your new marital bed. It really excited you thinking about it. You wished you had more time to go to the mall to purchase some sexy lingerie that fitted your pregnant body.

God, Shane really knew how to turn you into an idiot.

In the end, it didn't matter what you wore cause it wouldn't stay on for long. You opted for wearing a pair of lacy panties that you could still fit, but the matching bra didn't stand a chance against your new boobs. You put on a flannel shirt instead, and buttoned a couple of buttons that allowed for your generous cleavage to be the center of attention.

You took off your ring as well and hid it in one of the drawers of your nightstand.

When you finished fixing your hair you went around the house and drew all the curtains for privacy. Then you finally got to relax for a while. You checked Trent's Instagram to make sure they had arrived at the cabin. Exactly like you predicted, he documented the whole thing.

Waiting for Shane, you watched TV and ate some food. When you looked at the clock it was twenty minutes past ten. He couldn't be far, right? You built yourself up to the idea of meeting him again, that’d be disappointing if he didn’t come.

For ten more minutes, you started to believe you shouldn’t have put that much effort until you heard a soft knocking on the back door.

“Empezaba a creer que habías cambiado de idea,” you said, letting him in, and securing the lock on the door. (I was starting to think you changed your mind.)

“When have I ever disappointed you, mi vida?” As you took his hand, you gave him a look, and he scoffed, “don’t answer that.”

“I’m just glad you came back.”

“Fuck! Look at you, Corazón,” his eyes traveled down your body when you turned to him. “You wanna give me a heart attack?”

Taking that as a win, you grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulled firmly towards you to have his lips crash against yours. Then you took him to the bedroom and as you were about to capture his mouth again, Shane stopped you.

“Hold on,” he put some distance between the two of you. “I need to get a good look at you.”

He took off his shirt and tossed aside, as he circled around your body, committing to memory the new curves of your body. When he stood in front of you, you took a closer look at his exposed chest and gulped at the sight of your name tattooed in delicate lettering over his left pec.

“You got that for me?” you traced it with a finger.

“Si, Corazón.”

Your stomach fluttered as his fingers undid the two buttons of your shirt and pushed it off your shoulders to uncover your breasts and baby bump.

“You’re gorgeous like this, mi vida,” the flannel shirt fell to the floor as the back of his knuckles brushed the side of your heavy breast before holding one of them in his hand. It was way larger than his palm he realized, he used to be able to hold it all, now your flesh puffed up between his fingers when he squeezed. “You’re so sensitive.” He noticed your nipples getting hard with just a light touch.

“You can’t even imagine,” you laughed.

“How about here?” Shane guided his other hand between your legs to feel that you were already wet.

You hummed at the soft strokes of his fingers as they slid under the elastic to caress your tender skin. His lips parted at the corner of your mouth as he gathered the arousal from your folds. Your lips down there were puffed too from all the blood gathering all at your core.

“Lay down, I wanna eat you up, Darlin’.”

He bit his bottom lip and watched you following his order. You slipped your panties off under the dark stare of his beautiful eyes that had turned from sweet to a dangerous edge that could set anyone on fire.

You tucked a few pillows beneath your back to keep the weight of your belly off your spine, and reclined as comfortably as you could, spreading your legs wide for him like an offering.

With a grin, he propped a knee on the bed and looked at your cunt as if it was the most precious thing he’s ever seen. He settled between your legs, curled his arms around your thighs and dived right in. With the tip of his nimble tongue, he slowly drew the shape of your lips before circling around your clit. Unlike your husband, Shane was a master of giving head, and was well versed on your pussy. Even after all this time, he still remembered what made you tick.

A shiver ran down your spine as the plane of his tongue licked long strokes from your entrance to your swollen bud.

You threw your head back when his lips wrapped around it. The vicious pressure of his lips around that bundle of nerves felt out of this world.

“God, I’ve missed you, Cielo,” you moaned, threading your fingers in his hair.

“You taste so fucking good,” he grunted ferociously against your folds as a response and all of a sudden he began to suck on you like a starving beast.

Your juices, just as before, leaked all over. It was ridiculous how much you could produce in such a short time. You could feel the fabric below your ass absorbing them.

All your bearings were quickly lost as he took you closer to the edge. All you could do is cry out in pleasure, and squirm as his grip tightened around you to keep your hips in place. You tugged hard on his hair to anchor yourself but all that did is prompting him to go even harder.

“Close… I'm so… fuck, Shane, please… please,” you couldn't stop begging with shallow breaths. Your core was on fire, and you desperately needed to come. “Yes, like that… Ahhh.”

Your legs suddenly clenched around his head a wave of wild bliss coursed through your body, from your center out in different directions. Your toes curled, your muscles shivered, your breathing faltered as your mind was temporarily blown into pure joy. You closed your eyes and let that all take you over your body for a few seconds.

Slowly coming back to your senses, your pussy tingled for a little longer than usual.

Shane was on his knees between your legs, massive erection in his hand when you opened your eyes to find him staring directly at you.

“Goddamn, Corazón. I wish I could take a picture of you like that. I've never seen you come like that for me,” he groaned, pumping his length. “Look how fat you made me.”

Softly laughing, you managed to lift your hand to help him. You replaced his fist with yours and felt the jerking of his firm dick in your palm. His girth was so wide, your thumb couldn't touch any of your other fingers in a curl.

You wondered how many pussies his cock fucked during the past few years. And without thinking or stopping your hand, you asked…

“Di, ¿cuántas zorras te has tirado con mi polla?” (Say, how many bitches have you fucked with my cock?)

“¿Tu polla?” he snorted. (Your cock?)

“Yes, just mine,” you winked as you kept your hand moving. “Dime la verdad o paro.” (Tell me the truth, or I’ll stop.)

“Hmm, no me tortures así, Corazón.” (Hmm, don’t torture me like that, Sweetheart.)

“Come on. Tell me,” you requested again.

“None,” he panted, unable to keep up with the rhythm of your hand. He had to brace a palm on the mattress to keep himself from falling. “You said it. Soy todo tuyo, mi vida. Te lo prometo.” (I’m all yours, my life. I promise.)

You smiled widely, pressing your teeth on your lower lip, as you enthusiastically got him to ejaculate all over your swollen belly. It was warm and sticky, and you couldn't help but spread it like butter all over your tight skin, and bring some of it again to your mouth as Shane’s body melted next to yours.

You turned to the side, pushing the pillows under your back aside, keeping one for your head.

Your fingers found his stubbled jaw as you tilted his face in your direction.

“You really haven't been with anyone since the last time I saw you?”

“No. Not like this, Darlin’. Don’t get me wrong, I fooled around with a couple of girls but nothing else. You know me better than that.”

“I'm not sure if that's still true.”

“Do you wanna know where I've been the last two years?”

You were afraid to find out, but your head nodded anyway.

“Prison,” he said without breaking eye contact.

“What for?”

“Possession. Bet you thought it was about time they caught up with me, huh?”

“No, I’ve never thought that, Shane. As much as I wanted to punish you sometimes, I never wished for that to happen. When did you get out?”

“Yesterday morning,” he smiled softly. “All I could think was you, so I got in the car and I drove all the way here without stopping.”

“You could've called me.”

“I couldn't.”

“Why not?”

“Cause you would've dropped everything to help me, and I couldn't put that on you.”

“I wish you had. I would've done anything…”

“I know.”

“I'd have waited for you.”

“I know that too, Corazón. Don't beat yourself up for it.”

Your phone dinged, and you blindly extended your hand to pick up from your nightstand. It was another update from Trent. They were playing beer pong like fucking frat guys, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“What’s that?” Shane asked.

“Oh, nothing, just checking on him. I’m keeping tabs on his friend’s Instagram to see that he’s still at the cabin.”

“No, not that. This,” Shane lifted your wrist as the soft light from the night lamp highlighted the mark on your forearm. “You didn't have this earlier. I told you my truth. Would you tell me yours?”

Placing your phone down, you pursed your lips, pondering why you’re still protecting that asshole.

“I… you were right earlier. I don’t really love him anymore. I don’t think I ever did. I just needed some stability and I thought he was it. This happened after you left. And this,” then you pointed to your temple, “he smacked me with the remote last night.”

“Why are you with someone like that? I thought–”

“You thought, what, that I had some self-respect? I used to. I think I did. It’s more complicated than you think. He wasn’t like that when I met him.”

“They hardly ever are.”

“He lost his job a few months ago and started drinking, it wasn’t until recently that he-”

“Stop. Don’t make excuses for him. Losing a job doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole and hit your wife or any woman at all. And drinking… I know a thing or two about getting wasted, and I never put my hand on you no matter how drunk I was.”

“You're right… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Then, kick him out. Call the police. Get a restraining order. This is still your house, right?”

“Yeah, it is. But like I said – it’s more complicated than that. He has two cop friends. Best friends. They protect each other like fucking wolves. Last year, one of them killed a girl in a DUI, and he got nothing but a slap on the wrist. If I were to show up to ask for a restraining order, who do you think they’ll protect?”

“That’s fucking crazy. You can't live like that, baby.”

You sighted, combing the curls behind his ear. “Sometimes, when he goes away like this I think – this time he’d be too drunk to drive, and he’d end up going over a cliff, die upon impact and would never set foot in this house again. I keep closing my eyes at night and dreaming about it.”

Shane softly patted your hair back, and snuggled closer to you, wrapping you in his arms.

“I’m not gonna let him hurt you again. I promise, Corazón.”

“You don’t have to save me.”

“Lo sé, mi vida.”

Smiling against his chest, basking in the familiar scent of Shane, and feeling the big flutter of a kicking storm in your stomach. You held his hand and placed it on the side of your belly.

“She’s kicking. Can you feel that?”

“Yeah, I feel it. She? It’s a girl?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s strong. Does she have a name?”

“She does,” you placed your mouth over his ear, and whispered the name of your baby girl.

“That’s a beautiful name. She’s gonna kick ass, just like her mama.”

“I hope so,” your lips quirked up as you placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth and confessed. “I wish she was yours.”

“I wish she was mine too.”

Your lips locked together once more as you rid yourself of all bad thoughts clouding your head. You only ever wanted Shane. It’s easier to forget how much you love him when he’s not around, and just as easier to remember that you’d die for him if you had to. As the intensity of the kiss rose, you shifted and straddled his waist. He watched you become a goddess as you rubbed yourself over his dick, getting it to fully harden.

“Are you in heat or something?” he laughed, holding your hips.

“It’s the hormones. What? Aren’t you up for the challenge, big guy?”

“Oh, I’m up, alright.”

You lifted your ass, held his cock and carefully sank onto it.

Rocking back and forth you propped your hands on his broad chest, so you could boost yourself up to bounce all over his massive erection. His hands held your ass to help you go faster.

When you caught him eyeing your big breast you bent over, holding one in your hand and put it over his mouth, so he can suck on it. His lips wrapped tight around your sensitive nipple and latched on it. You were growling at the wonderful sensation paired with his throbbing cock inside you.

“God, Corazón, you’re amazing, you feel so… “ He moaned as he switched to the other nipple.

This time his teeth scraped the surface, and you almost came at the surprise. You were so close you couldn’t help but bounce a little faster. You had to brace both hands again to keep up with the rhythm. The weight of your belly started to hinder your pace the closer you got to the edge.

“Help me,” you grabbed Shane's hand and put it on your clit, pleading with a cry, “I need it. Please.”

“I got you, baby. I got you.”

He rubbed viciously on your clit until you came with such force all your juices squirted all over him. Then the pleasure of your orgasm forced his own. His cocked jerked, and suddenly you were filled again with his delicious seed.

You didn’t hear Shane leaving after you fell asleep in his arms.

When you woke up to pee a couple of hours later, the clock marked 4AM, and he wasn't in your bed anymore. He had left the house altogether. You didn't have plans for the next day, but you weren't expecting him to leave that early in the morning either without saying goodbye.

There was a pang of disappointment in your chest as you went back to bed, but you closed your eyes, naively hoping he'd come back later.

It was your lucky day cause when you opened your eyes again, he was back and had brought breakfast with him. All our favorite plates were laid on the breakfast bar as he made a fresh batch of coffee.

“Where did you go, Cielo?” you asked in between bites.

“Went out for breakfast.”

“I can see that. I mean earlier. Woke up at 4 and you were gone.”

He took a long sip of his cup before responding, “I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a drive to clear my head.”

“It must be strange sleeping in a new bed.”

“Yeah, a little.”

“I have to work later. I can call in sick if you want–” you offered.

“No, baby, do what you gotta do. No te preocupes por mí.” (Don’t worry about me.)

“You can’t stay here, but I could still get you a room at the hotel if you’re tired.”

“Nah, do your thing, I’ll figure it out.”

“Would you… come later?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll be here, Corazón,” he kissed your hair and picked up your phone from the counter, “unlock it. I’ll put in my new number, and you call me when you’re off. Yeah?”

“Prométeme que volverás,” you said before handing back the phone. (Promise that you’ll come back.)

“Lo prometo.” (I promise.)

After cleaning your plate you relaxed in bed for a little while, trying to get him to catch up with his sleep. There was no luck in that department cause he couldn't keep his eyes and hands off you. So once again, you found yourself in a trance of hormone-induced lust, and had Shane thrusting into you at full force from behind. Your ass was in the air, held in his broad palms, while you sobbed and moaned in pleasure against the pillow beneath your head. You desperately pushed back with your hips, taking him all in. Feeling every stroke, every inch and throb until your legs were left trembling and the fire in your core had spread through your whole body.

When you went off to work in the afternoon, it all seemed to become a hazy dream. It was all so intense that part of you thought it couldn't be real. But that was most of your relationship with Shane. Sometimes you couldn't help but feel you weren't enough for him. Him constantly leaving and breaking his promises was proof that you shouldn’t trust everything he says, but this time felt different. Maybe it was cause he was fresh out of prison, but you could tell that perhaps he was ready to stay out of trouble.

The first half of your shift went by quickly. You kept checking your phone like a maniac to make sure your husband stayed where he was supposed to, and luckily he did. If he wasn’t afraid of hurting you, you weren’t afraid of hurting him back, but you were indeed scared of him finding out about you and your old flame regardless.

You were at the front desk when Shane came in an hour before your shift ended to ask for a room. He needed a place to stay after all, and as the manager you managed pretty well to comp him a room for a couple of days. He carried his scarce luggage that consisted of just a duffle bag to his room, took a shower and waited for your shift to end.

Shane was half asleep when you finished work and knocked on his door. It was easy to see that he was utterly spent, so you didn’t make him drive back to the house. Instead, you stayed with him for the night. You trimmed his curls and shaved his face. Then, you took a long bath together like old times.

“Are you going to stay this time?” you asked once you got into bed.

You faced the other under covers and didn't talk louder than a whisper.

“I don't have anywhere else to go, baby.”

“Does that mean that you're done hustling?”

“I gotta. I don't have any other choice than to be done. Next time it could be 20 or 30 or life. I think I've tempted fate way too many times and got away with more than I should've. I had a lot of time to think and realized none of it mattered. Didn't care about the money. It was just… I don’t know, the power I guess. And I missed on a lot of time with you, and now I have nothing to show for. I don't really know what I'm gonna do, but I'm done with all that. All I know is that I just wanna be with you.”

“I…” your words caught up in your throat, as you tried to convey and process what he said at the same time. “I wanna believe that's true, but you've said you were done before and always felt right back into it.”

“This time is different. I can promise you that I'm not going anywhere this time. Cross my heart.”

Your lips softly pulled up at the corners as you placed your hand over your name's tattoo on his chest.

Regardless of his promise, you’d always have some reservations when it comes to him. Until he really proves it, there’s nothing stripping all those doubts he’s ingrained in you over the years.

When you woke up in the middle of the night he was gone like the night before. This time there was a note saying that he had gone out for a drive and signed it with – I love you, Corazón.

By the time you got up this time he hadn't come back. It didn't worry you though. You just went on with your day, drove back home to take a shower and run some errands before your next shift.

You weren't exactly sure what was going to happen next. You couldn't just jump into Shane's arms after all this time and pretend nothing ever happened. If this was really happening you had to make sure that was true to his word and figure out how he’d fit into your life when you were about to have a baby.

But most importantly, there was something you had to do first. Something that you should’ve done a long time ago and that was leaving your husband. You had been subjected to verbal and mental abuse for months that gradually turned into physical abuse. No matter how much it scared you, it was time to put your foot down and protect not only yourself but your daughter. She couldn’t be raised around him. And Shane or no Shane, it was something you couldn’t keep brushing aside hoping it’ll get better. It was easier to think about it than to actually do it. You weren’t sure how to start. Like you told Shane, going to Lafayette’s Police Department wasn’t an option. But maybe giving Rick a call and asking him for some guidance could be the first step of many.

You pinned that thought for the next day and went back to work a little earlier than usual. It was Sunday afternoon, and you dreaded that Clayton would be coming back later. So you decided to pay Shane a visit before work.

“You know, being here with you this weekend… it’s been the best thing that’s ever happened in a long time, Sweetheart.”

“Well, anything can beat spending two years in prison.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, mi vida. I mean it. I just hope you can forgive me someday for everything I’ve done. There’s a lot of shit you don’t know about that I wanna tell you but…”

He lowered his stare.

“Shane… I… If what you say it’s true, if you prove that I can count on you and that you’re not going back to all that, I’d never hold anything against you. That’s my promise. Whatever you did, you’ve done your time, right?”

“Right,” he picked up your hand and kissed your knuckles before smoothing his palm on your baby bump.

“I can come back later, just for a little while before going home.”

“If you feel like it, I’ll be here, Corazón. Always. No matter what happens.”

He said kind of ominously before you left the room. His tone was certainly different from the night before, he could barely look you in the eye as you said goodbye.

It really puzzled you as you went back to your desk. Maybe he was just tired or perhaps, he was actually feeling the weight of all his actions at once and was actually remorseful. You definitely hadn’t seen that look in his face before that afternoon.

On a quiet evening, when you thought this weekend couldn’t bring more surprises, there was something else that turned your world upside down when two of Clayton’s friends showed up at the front desk. It was the two cops, Simon and Paulie, or Prick One and Prick Two as you called them, asking you for a private place to talk.

You took them into the office where they asked you to sit down, so they could break the news of your husband’s death. It was hard to hear, no matter how many times you’ve fantasized about it, it seemed impossible and your first reaction when they told you he drove over a cliff was to burst into laughter.

“You guys are joshing, right?” you scoffed, and their faces remained unchanged, dead serious. “That can’t be right. He was with you the whole time. I saw it in Trent’s fucking pictures.”

“I’m really sorry, sweetheart. It’s true. We ran out of ice, and he said he was going to the gas station for more and never returned last night. We didn’t find him until this morning… we weren’t sure it was him until they got down to get him. That’s why we waited to tell you.”

“Ice? He went out for ice?” You gritted in disbelief.

“He was pretty wasted. We all were, but you know how he was, once he got something in his head…”

“That’s the last thing he said before leaving.”

“But we believe there was something else that I rather you hear from us than on the news. They found a bag with amphetamines and cocaine in his truck.”

“After he lost his job he was desperate and, we kinda knew that he was selling to-”

They kept spitting out information that didn’t seem feasible to you until you snapped.

“Stop, stop, stop,” you said stiffly, holding your palms up for a moment before getting up from your chair. “Everything you’re saying doesn’t make any sense. He’s many things, but he’s not a fucking drug dealer.”

Though it’d explain some things, you couldn’t believe Clayton had turned into that.

“You kinda knew? That’s bullshit. You either were fully aware of what he was up to or you two are the dumbest cops I’ve ever met. You just don’t – kinda knew –” you threw big air quotes at their own words.

“Hey!” Simon raised his voice for just a second before his partner motioned at him to have some tact.

“We know you’re hurting, sweetheart. It’s a lot to process, but we’re here for whatever you need. Clay would’ve wanted us to help you.”

A lot to process was an understatement.

You looked out the window and saw Shane’s jeep parked in the lot, and it dawned on you. It wasn’t an accident or a coincidence… It was Shane. He killed him. It was as clear as day. You told him about your fantasy of Clayton falling from a cliff the other night, and he made that happen. He murdered him in your name and these two clowns were obviously too stupid to figure that out.

It made you sick to your stomach to think about it and you had to fight not to throw up right on the spot.

“Do I need to identify the body? Is he…?” you couldn’t even imagine what he would look like. All you could think about is the last time you saw him when he grabbed your arm, that same arm you unconsciously were gripping to as hard as he did.

“We can take care of that. You don’t have to see him like that.”

You simply nodded as vile rose to your throat, “there’s a lot… If you could… I need to be alone for a minute.”

“We understand. Call us if you need anything.”

They left the office and the first thing you did when the door was closed was hurl everything you had eaten earlier in the wastebasket.

Beads of sweat covered your forehead and chest when you came out of the office. Your boss dismissed you from work and instead of going home, you went straight to Shane’s room for answers. What he said earlier about forgiveness of all the things he’s done suddenly made a lot of sense. He wasn’t talking about three years ago, he was talking about what he had done last night.

When he opened the door, your cheeks were already covered in tears, as rage just fired through your body. You couldn’t voice anything other than a “how could you….” as you shoved him back several times with all the strength you could muster until his back was pressed against the wall.

You didn’t have to say much cause he was aware that you knew that he indeed had killed Clayton. He fucking knew that sooner or later you were going to find out.

“Lo siento, mi vida. De verdad que lo siento…” (I’m sorry, my life. I truly am sorry…)

He wasn’t in fact sorry at all, he was sorry that he hurt you, but he wasn’t carrying an ounce of guilt from killing your husband in cold blood.

“He had to go. I’m sorry. I couldn’t just let him hurt you again, you gotta know that.”

“No. You’re not putting this on me. You did that cause you’re a selfish piece of shit. I shouldn’t’ve…”

“C’mon, you practically begged me the other day. Why would you tell me that you kept dreaming of him dying if you didn’t want me to do something about it?”

“It’s called being vulnerable. You caught me at a bad time and took advantage of it. I’m sick of men like you and him making the rules as they go.”

“I didn’t make any rules. I did what I had to cause you didn’t have the guts to kick him out of your life.”

“I had a plan… I was going to… and you…” you kept losing the ability to put your thoughts together.

“Babe, I don’t care if you hate me for as long as I live but, I’m gonna sleep tonight like a baby knowing that that asshole won’t ever touch you again.”

“Is that easy for you, huh?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t feel just one bit relieved that you won’t have to see him ever again. Di la verdad.” (Tell the truth.)

You shook your head, and swallowed the hard pill of his words. He was partly right. As shocking as it was, you knew that after all this, you’d be glad he was gone.

“It doesn’t matter, Shane. What you did was evil.”

“I did it cause I love you.”

“No, you did it cause you wanted to.”

“I didn’t wanna, I swear. For the first time… I didn’t wanna do something like this, trust me.”

“Trust you? I don’t think you deserve that.”

“You should go home and rest…. Once this is over you’ll see more clearly that this had to happen.”

“See more clearly? You’re the one with tunnel vision, Shane. If you can admit that what you did was fucking wrong, then there’s nothing else to say here. We’re done.”

“I’m not saying it wasn’t wrong. I know it was. But the only thing that matters to me is that you and your baby are safe. And if they lock me up for it, so be it. I don't fucking care. I wasn't gonna sit down and watch him hurt you again.”

“I… I really don't know what you expect me to do with all this. You killed, not just someone… you killed my husband. How can you sit down and pretend that everything will be fine? How are you gonna live with that?”

“Wasn't really the first time. I told you there was a lot you didn't know about.”

“That doesn't make me feel any better. I said I wouldn't hold anything against you, but this is too much, Shane.”

“I know.”

“No matter what he did, he didn't deserve…” you started but immediately realized you didn't even believe your own thoughts. He did deserve to die. Just not like this, perhaps. “Is there any way this could be traced to you, to us?”

“No, I covered all my tracks.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do you want me to give you the rundown?”

“If someone finds out…”

“Nobody's gonna find out. I promise.”

“Tú y tus malditas promesas. Sigues siendo el mismo cabrón.” (You and your damn promises. You’re still the same bastard.)

“Hey, mírame y dime, en tu corazón de corazones ¿De veras crees eso?” (Look at me and tell me, in your heart of hearts, do you really believe that?)

You glanced at him, but you couldn't focus enough to tell or understand what you believed anymore. Your head sunk into your shoulders in defeat before taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Was he really selling drugs or did you plant them?”

“I didn't plant anything. I have no idea what he was up to. I just followed him with my car and made sure he went…”

“How did you know where he was?”

“You showed me where they were in that photo the other night. Their dumbasses even tagged the location.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“So you want the rundown after all.”

“Just wanna make sure… I don’t know anymore… I don’t know why I care at all,” you tiredly held your forehead on your palms.

“Look, the less you know the better. They won’t come after you. I’ll make sure of that… but to answer your question, no, nobody saw me. I used a different car, I scooped up the place the night before and just waited… I thought I’d have to do it when they were all asleep but, when he got into his truck I saw my chance.”

“Ya es suficiente.” (That’s enough.)

You promptly stood up as you were torn in different directions inside. Turning your back on him, your hand reached for the door handle. “You should leave town while you can. I won’t tell anyone… but I can’t see you anymore.”

“So this is it? This is how it ends?”

“I don’t know… I just can’t really look at you right now. You put my life upside down in two days, Shane.”

“I’m so sorry for that. I really am. But I hope one day you have it in your heart to forgive me… I… I won’t be going anywhere. If you need me, I’m just one call away, Corazón.”

You didn’t look back, didn’t even glance over your shoulder one last time to see him as you stepped out of the room.

Emotionally and physically exhausted you drove home as your brain switched on autopilot. The next few days were hazy and draining. As soon as the body was released for burial you got the funeral out of the way quickly. It didn't surprise you that it was ruled as an accident, with the levels of alcohol in his blood and the drugs in the truck didn’t leave room for questioning foul play. And the worst part of it all, and that Shane was right, you didn’t feel bad at all for his death.

Though Shane left the hotel you worked at, he stayed in town. You saw his car parked by the diner the day you returned to work.

He stayed away. More than once you thought he’d come up out of the blue and show up on your porch, and you’d be too weak to deal with him again. But He didn’t even dare to call or text again after that day.

It wasn’t until three or so weeks later, when you started feeling more like your old self, you began going through Clayton’s stuff. There wasn’t really anything you wanted to keep, so you threw most of it in the donation pile and called it a day. There was one thing though, that you couldn’t sort, and it was the storage cabinet he had padlocked in the garage. You went through every drawer and pocket to find a key to it, but there was no luck. Maybe it was lost in the mountains with him, you thought. Then, as much as you wanted to avoid that, you had no choice but to search the bag you were given with the personal belongings he had during the ‘accident’. There you found the key attached to his keychain.

At that point, nothing surprised you anymore when you opened the cabinet to find a backpack filled with prescription pills and other drugs you didn’t recognize. Along with it there was also some cash, a gun with a box of ammo, his work tools, a pair of utility boots, and a few magazines.

Perhaps that’s the excuse you needed to see Shane again, who fucking knows, but for whatever reason you picked up the phone and called him. Without going into detail about your findings, you asked him to come over to look at your car instead and he did. A couple of hours later, as the sun went down, he knocked on your door.

“I’m glad you called,” he said.

“Follow me,” you requested dryly, as you guided him into the garage. With the door shut down to the driveway, you opened the cabinet and showed him. “Can you get rid of this?”

“Is this yours?” He scanned the bag of stash. “Have you been hiding a side hustle?”

“No, asshole. It was his. I’ve just found it and I don’t know what to do with it. Do I call the police?”

“Don’t. Please don’t do that,” he pleaded. “I’ve been watching those two, you know his friends, and they were in it too.”

“How do you know?”

“Cause I know. Why do you think they were so quick to rule it as an accident? They turned him into his errand boy. He didn't just go out for ice, he was making a drop that night. Those fucking pictures they kept posting? Those are their alibis.”

Short of breath, you took a step back and leaned against the hood of your car. “I don’t wanna know any of it. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I’m tired of all this, Shane… I want it to be over.”

“Sorry… I… yeah, I’ll get rid of it.”

“What about the gun?”

He picked it up and made a thorough inspection making sure that it wasn’t loaded.

“I’ll take care of it too.”

“Wait, if it’s registered, shouldn’t I just turn it over or something?”

“Ghost gun. Has no serial number, see?” He turned it around and pointed at the side to show there was indeed no number where it was supposed to. “In normal circumstances, you could say you just found it, but in this case… I wouldn’t do it.”

“Got it. Just do what you have to do. Get rid of the cash too, I need all of it gone.”

“Now, hold on, there's like 8 G's here. You should keep that.”

“It's drug money, I don't want it.”

“Yeah, but you could use it for something good. Buy something for you or the baby.”

“I don't need it, I was doing pretty good without his money. I won't be able to use it without thinking about where it came from. I never took yours, I'm not gonna take his now.”

“Think it's for a good cause. Like it or not, he was her father, you could open a savings account for her. Don't let it go to waste, sweetheart. You might need it someday.”

“I… Sure. I guess you're right.”

“I could get you a good price on that bag too. I'm thinking about 5-”

“No, I don't want you to risk it. Just get rid of it. Burn it, bury it, toss it somewhere far away from here.”

“Are you sure? The Dixons owe me one, I could get them to–”

“I'm not gonna bend on this one Shane. I mean it. Stay away from the Dixons. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Alright, I’ll just get rid of it. But y’know I’m taking a huge risk getting this off your hands.”

“Oh.”

“So, are you sure you want me to? If they find me with this, I could get locked up again.”

“Ya empezamos… ¿Quieres algo a cambio?” You huffed, crossing your arms firmly over your belly. (Here we go… You want something in return?)

“No, I mean… I just wanna see you for a coffee sometime.”

“Told you, I don’t drink coffee.”

“It doesn't have to be coffee.”

“I’m too tired to do this again Shane. Do it or don’t. I don’t care. After you’ve put me through… no tienes derecho a pedir nada.” (You have no right to ask for anything.)

“Lo siento. Tenía que intentarlo. Can you blame me?” (I’m sorry. Had to try.)

“Yes, I can.”

“Okay, I set myself up for that one,” he huffed, and looked at the bag in his hand, and reiterated. “I’ll take care of this, don’t worry about it. No strings attached.”

“Thank you.” It took you a moment to say it, but you did. “So, you’re not leaving town. You’re not scared of being found out?”

“No, I’m not scared of being found out.”

“And what’s your plan now?”

“I meant what I saw the other day. I'm staying. I got a job at Jim’s. He’s letting me use the trailer behind the shop to save some money. And that’s my plan for now. Why? Thought you didn’t care.”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

“No? It seems like you awfully care a lot about what happens to me for someone who says doesn’t give a fuck.”

“I was just curious, Shane. You can just go, we don’t have to keep talking.”

“But I like talking to you.”

“I know you do. That’s the only thing you have over me. Every time you open your mouth… you’re just one step closer to…”

“What? Changing your mind?”

“It’s not a good thing.”

“As I see it, it’s the best thing.”

“Of course you do.”

“Okay, let me ask you just one more thing, and then I’ll go.”

“Okay, one.”

“If someone you loved was treated like you were–”

“Shane… don’t.”

“Lemme finish, please. If someone you loved was treated like you were, wouldn’t you do something about it? What if it was one of your friends? What if it was me… or what if an asshole in 20 years treated your daughter like that? Would you just stand by and do nothing?”

“That’s not a fair question. You’re playing on my emotions right now. Of course, I’d do something about it.“

“Then, why is it different? Would you kill for me if I was in danger?”

“That’s more than one question.”

“Would you?”

“I don’t know. I guess it depends on the situation. Once upon a time, if you had asked me that, I’d say yes, I’d have killed anyone for you.”

“¿Y ahora?” (And now?)

“No lo sé… I have something more pressing on my hands right now. I’m not alone anymore,” you glanced at your baby bump. “The difference between you and me is that I have to consider that what I do affects her.”

“Guess I should’ve thought that.”

“You should’ve.”

“We could still make it work. Maybe not now. But maybe someday when you can look at me again without seeing what I did. What do you think?”

“I think you’ve gone over the limit of questions you said you were going to ask, and my head is starting to hurt. But you know that I’ll never rule anything out between you and me. We’re both a lost cause. And if you really stay out of trouble and keep your word, who knows? Maybe one day I’ll change my mind.”

“That’s all I needed to hear, Corazón.”

Shane closed the backpack and slung it on his shoulder.

“Be careful with that.”

“Don't worry about me.”

His hand carefully slid on the side of your neck as Shane pressed his lips to your forehead. It lingered, once again making you feel as weak as the day you met him. It made you question whether to push him away or just give in to old habits. You've accepted that no matter what he did, you'd never be able to get rid of him.

You tentatively held his jaw between your palms, and stared at his lips for a beat before returning the kiss. It was soft and quick cause you didn't want to delve too fast and make it feel like a reward.

“I'll see you around,” you offered. That's the best you could do for now.

[hangonsnoopy19]

Okay, so, more thoughts on this earlier post post-finale…

I love Daniel’s journey. He tries to jump the gun in ‘73 and insert himself into the story, wrongfully. The show took the ending of the original story and movie - Daniel’s mistaken disruption and misreading - and made it the beginning instead, and I love that. They are barely half way through Louis’s story in episode 5 when Daniel interrupts. He claims to be another Lestat or Claudia even when he has no idea who those people are really. He says he has “something they don’t” but fails to see his uniqueness outside of that incorrect comparison. He’s punished for it, and what’s left behind after his memory is wiped is an unbeaten curiosity, a “point of view” that defines him.

When he comes back for interview part 2 he ends that marriage and he does it through LISTENING to the details. He is reminded that his job is to listen (by Armand lol, that backfired) and he’s shut down (and mostly abides by the rebukes) when he occasionally falls back into previous habits and tries to rush or project. He keeps Louis on track and lets Louis lead, but also cracks through the shell, needling until Louis becomes more responsive and insightful and himself. He waits until the end of the story. He ends the recording. He has a LIST of questions. He has documentation in his hand before he fires his shot. He uses what Armand calls an “insignificant detail”. He’s got the story straight now, finally. And then he tears the whole thing apart.

Again, he fixes his original sin and grows so much as a journalist in his understanding of truth and narrative. And his punishment/reward? He gets what he originally asked for, and post-dark gift he is thriving on being both the storyteller and, now, part of the story.

I’m a devils minion sucker and OF COURSE Daniel is the only one for Armand. Of course the king of gaslighting and smoke and mirrors is undone by the journalist questing for the truth. And now that all the mirrors are smashed and only Armand is left - whoever that is when he’s not in a codependent relationship - he’s going to be tied as maker-fledgling to the only person who will always SEE him. And Daniel is CHASING him now. That 500 year old is about to be KNOWN.

Side note: I also love that Louis and Daniel are friends now - Jacob Anderson said he was the “annoying baby brother” and it feels like Daniel is not a replacement for Paul but is a person who fills that family role. Paul is in many ways the first loss for Louis and I’m happy that after their ‘memory quest’, both he and Daniel get that relationship.

[archangeldyke-all]

CLUBMOMCLUBMOMCLUBMOMCLUBMOMMMMMM-

*ahem*

I apologize for outburst- allow me to demonstrate my idea in a civil manner.

CLUBMOMMY GIVING SEVIKA A HARD TIME BY NOT FUCKING HER FOR A WEEK AND SEVIKA LITERALLY BEGGING ND SHIT TILL CLUB MOM THINKS SHE"S HAD ENOUGH AND FUCKS HER A CLOSET NEXT TO THE STRIPPER BATHROOM ND SEVIKA TRYING TO STAY QUIT BUT THERE GOES CLUB MOM MAKING HER DO A SQUIRTING ORGASM W HER DICK FOR LIKR THE THRID TIME SO SHE"S JUST CRYING AND BEGGINF FOR MORE LIKE SHE DOESN'T WORK THE NEXT DAY ND NEEDS TO USE HER VOICE FOR MEETINGS AND-

*ahem*

Very eleoquent, I know. My love for you and the public knows no bounds.

Besitossss [kisses]!!! ilyyyy!!!

💐💐💐💐

*cracks my knuckles* alright lets do it

men and minors dni

you and sevika got in your first big fight a week ago.

you've been dating for two years, living together for a year and a half, but until this week, your disagreements have remained small.

sure, you spat and bicker all the time-- but that's mostly just because you and sevika 'give major old married couple vibes'-- at least, according to crystal.

but this fight was different.

sevika had a horrible night at work, and all she wanted to do was pick you up from the club, take you home, and have you wrap around her like a koala while you scratched her scalp and gently hummed her to sleep.

you, on the other hand, had had an excellent fucking night. the club was jam-packed with a bachelor party from piltover-- and the girls scammed those rich suckers dry.

so after close, when you and the girls were counting money and getting ready to head home, cherry popped a celebratory bottle of champagne. which resulted in another bottle-- which resulted in you shaking your ass on the stage for a dozen of cheering laughing strippers-- all throwing money at you and chanting, "go mom! go mom! get it mom! go mom!"

it's not like you were naked, or dancing alone. all the girls were dancing beside you, and the club was empty besides you, them, and jimmy, and you were all high off a night of great earnings and a little tipsy on champagne.

but when sevika stumbled through the back doors, exhausted, beaten up, likely concussed and stone cold sober, she didn't see any of those details.

what she did see was you shaking your ass for cherry where she sat in a recliner on the floor.

it got really ugly, really fast.

a screaming match in the alley became a screaming match at home which became you packing a bag and leaving.

and now it's been a week of you sleeping on cherry's couch.

you miss sevika so fucking much.

she misses you too.

when you'd left, you'd tiredly, shakily asked sevika to give you time.

she did. for twelve hours.

but the following night as you clocked in for work, you were shocked to see your girlfriend sitting in the back of the club, sipping on a whiskey.

"i told you i needed time, sev." you huffed as you trudged over to the booth she was tucked in.

"i'm not here for you." she lied. you raised an eyebrow at her.

"buying a dance?" you asked. she huffed and rolled her eyes.

"fuck off, you know i'm not. obviously, i'm here for you-- i couldn't fucking sleep last night... i know you want time. you can have it. i won't bug you, but... please don't make me leave." she whispered this last part, her voice a little wobbly. "i just... miss you. wanna see you. i won't talk to you, i promise."

you'd sucked in a shaky breath, tried to keep your tears from falling, and nodded quickly before turning around and fleeing to the locker room.

and now, it's been a week of sleeping on a lumpy couch and listening to cherry hook up with jimmy through her thin-ass walls; a week of sevika's big puppy eyes watching your every move while you're out on the floor, of her having the girls bring you drinks and food, of her stuffing flowers and apology notes into the slats of your locker; and you're done fighting with her.

you miss her so much it hurts. you love her so much it hurts.

so tonight, you've got a plan: you're gonna make her grovel a little more, and then you're gonna go home with her.

you've got your duffel bag packed and waiting in your locker and everything.

sevika seems to have caught on to the fact that she's out of the doghouse. she's been grinning at you all night, waving you over like she's a customer who needs help, only to try to make chit chat with you and flirt for a while. she's adorable.

right now, she's watching you make your rounds around the club, her gaze burning on your back.

"did you 'n sev get in another fight?" trinity asks from behind the bar. you blink at her in confusion.

"no, why?" you ask.

she nods to where sevika's sitting across the bar behind you. "she's lookin' at you like she's plottin' to kill you." she says. you bite your lip and try to keep back your nervous giggle.

"y-yeah, that's... that's her horny face." you admit. trinity bursts into laughter, throwing her head back as she cackles. you groan, reaching across the bar to pull the bottle of tequila out of her grasp, and quickly pouring yourself your own shot before handing the bottle back to her. "are you good over here?" you ask, already backing away from the bar to avoid your friend's teases.

trintiy's still too busy laughing to answer verbally, so she shoots you a thumbs up and waves you away.

you finish your go around the club pretty quick.

frosty has you help her find the tip of the broken nail she'd chipped off-- using your flashlight to scour the floors of the dark club until you found the glittery nail, then gluing it back on for her.

you help a shaky old man figure out the cash-machine, withdrawing a stack of ones for him then helping him to a seat, waving star down to dance for him-- she likes the older gentlemen.

and then, after putting band-aids on the blisters on the back of shelly's feet, making sure mandy takes her medicine break, and spraying body glitter on buttercup's back for her; you finally get to turn around and catch sevika's gaze.

she grins when you approach her booth.

"hey, mama."

you shiver. 'mama' is her own personal take on the nickname your girls have for you, and it makes you weak in the knees hearing it now after a week. "scoot over." you mumble, trying to ignore her knowing smirk.

sevika slides into her booth, letting you sit beside her, passing you her drink so you can have a sip of her whiskey.

"you seem awfully happy tonight." you say.

sevika shrugs. "i've got a good feeling." she says simply. you raise an eyebrow at her, and she giggles. "think i might get lucky tonight; might take a pretty girl home with me."

you snort, elbowing her but not denying her accusation.

sevika's smile grows cocky, and her arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you into her strong chest. she presses a long, firm kiss to your scalp, breathing in the scent of your shampoo, before she sighs and pulls away, blinking her eyes back open. "i've fuckin' missed you." she whispers.

you sigh, melting against her. for a while, you guys just sit together, letting the loud thumping of the club music take over the conversation.

you finish sevika's whiskey. she doesn't seem to mind, her lips are occupied by peppering kisses on your head. eventually, you speak again. "cherry's couch is fucking horrible."

sevika snorts. "i'll give you a massage when we get home." she mutters. you giggle.

"you seem pretty certain that you'll be takin' me home tonight." you tease. sevika's eyes widen a bit in worry and she stiffens beside you.

"but... i am, right?" she asks, her voice insecure. your stomach bursts into butterflies. you were not expecting that reaction.

you were expecting her to say something suave and hot, to turn the tables and tease you, or to just straight up kiss you. you weren't expecting the needy, whiny tone of her voice.

it's rare, but sevika gets like this sometimes. you're not surprised it's happening now after a week apart, you just didn't expect it. but now that it's happening, and sevika's looking at you with those big, begging eyes, you're thrilled.

you give your plan for the night a quick mental edit: you'll make her grovel a lot, and then you'll take her home.

"depends." you answer, smiling at your girlfriend and reaching up to cup her cheek. she nuzzles into your touch.

"on what?" she asks. you grin, kiss the tip of her nose, and then whisper in her ear.

"how pretty you beg."

you don't wait for her reaction. you just kiss her cheek and then slip out of the booth, sauntering back to the locker room. you can feel her shocked gaze on your retreating figure, so you swing your hips a bit, making your ass sway a little more than usual. just before you reach the locker room, you can make out an emphatic "fuck" above the music coming from sevika's booth. you burst into laughter.

sevika wastes no time taking you up on your challenge.

two minutes after you push through the doors, sevika comes tumbling through, her eyes wide and her smile soft as she trails over to your little desk in the corner.

"baby..." she starts. you snort, and sevika sits her ass on your desk, looking down at you where you're in your chair. you prop your legs up into her lap, and her hands immediately grab your ankles to start rubbing circles in the skin. "please lemme take you home." she whispers.

the locker room is empty right now, all the girls are out on the floor. so, you decide to be evil. "what?" you ask. "didn't hear you, baby."

sevika grunts, and rolls her eyes. "please let me take you home tonight, honey." she asks at a normal volume. you smile, reaching out for her hand and pulling it forward to press a kiss to her knuckles.

"i'll think about it." you tease. sevika groans, kicking her feet a bit. you have to bite back your smile.

"babe!" she cries. "i-i-i missed you so much." she pouts. "i missed your fuckin' laugh and the crumbs you're always leavin' in bed and your morning breath and... and i missed your tits babe, fuck!" she whines.

you pull your feet out of her lap and stand up. her slouch against your desk means you're towering over her, now, and you smile down at her as you cup her face in both of your hands. "i missed you too, sev." you whisper. the smidgen of worry in her look of general desperation disappears at your words, and you relax a bit, knowing that now she's just horny and not worried you're still mad.

she puckers her lips, expecting a kiss. you snort, then lean forward a give her a quick, chaste peck.

it's not enough. it's nowhere near enough, and now that you've kissed her again after a week, your desperation for her is becoming incredibly apparent in your underwear. but still, you pull away. because you want to see how far you can take this.

"tell me more." you whisper against her lips.

sevika makes a little noise of protest when you pull away from her face. "i, uh..." she tries, blinking rapidly to get her brain working. "i missed the way you're always nagging me. turns out you're right, about most of it. i tripped over one of the socks i left on the floor in the middle of the night and nearly broke my neck-- i couldn't decide if you'd laugh or cry when you found out i died that way." she whispers.

you laugh then kiss her again as a reward for her words. "i'd cry. and then laugh. and then cry forever. tell me more." you demand. sevika smiles, catching onto your game quickly. her hands reach out and hold your hips, and you allow it... for now.

"missed your ass." she says simply. you snort, and kiss her again, licking against her bottom lip this time. her eyes are hazy when you pull away.

"tell me mo--"

"missed your smile." she whispers. "fuck, 'specially the one you give me when i wake you up in the mornings. 'n that annoyed one-- where you're trying not to laugh but you really want to." she giggles a bit. your heart melts, and you kiss her again. "i missed your lips." you kiss her. "i missed your hands." you kiss her. "fuck, baby, i missed your pussy." she whines. you grin. bingo.

sevika cracks one of her closed eyes open when she's not immediately rewarded with a kiss for her confession. she pouts at you, but you talk before she can complain.

"oh, sev." you whisper. "i missed your pussy."

sevika nearly slides off the desk at your words. if it weren't for you standing between her legs, she'd be on her ass on the floor after her knees locked. you laugh as you steady her on your desk, then swoop forward to capture her lips in a hot kiss, threading your fingers in her hair.

sevika's clawing at your belt loops and shirt, trying to drag you impossibly closer to her body. you chuckle against her lips, working one of your hands between your bodies to start fiddling at her pants button.

"lemme touch you?" you ask. sevika's already gasping for air like she's run a marathon, her eyes big and glossy and needy as she nods. you grin, and shove your hand down the front of her boxers.

she's soaking fucking wet, and she immediately leans forward to hide her face against your shoulder while you gasp at your discovery. "sev." you whine. she grunts.

"shut up."

"my needy girl." you continue. she whimpers, then turns to bite your throat.

you don't even mean to start fucking her-- she's just so wet that two of your digits slip right into her, with no resistance. you both gasp. "fuck! please!" sevika cries. you laugh.

"keep it down, baby, the girls could come in here any minute."

"please don't stop, please, fuck mama, i missed you so fuckin' much--"

you shut her up by pressing your lips against hers, swallowing her words as you nip her lip.

when you pull away from her to suck in a breath of air, you push her mouth to your neck to keep her quiet.

still-- even with her whimpers and whines muffled, her cunt's so wet and loud anybody'd know what you two are doing if they came through the door.

"shit, honey, do you hear yourself? you're so fucking cute, missed me so much, this is all for me, isn't it?" you ask. she mumbles something incoherent against your neck, her hips humping your hand, her head nodding. you laugh. "fuck, i missed you, too sweetheart." you whimper. she growls against your throat and you giggle. "cum for me, love."

sevika cums with choked whine, soaking your hand as she falls apart.

you pull her away from your throat to kiss her through her orgasm, slowing down the rhythm of your fingers until you're still. sevika's still twitching and whining when you pull away.

"you okay?" you ask, pulling your hand out of her pants and licking up her cum.

sevika grunts, then falls forward, her forehead against your tits. "so fuckin' good." she says. you laugh.

"god, baby. i wish i had my strapon, i'd fuck you over my desk."

sevika's head snaps up from your chest, a non-orgasmic blush creeping up her cheeks. you raise an eyebrow at her.

"uh..." she mutters.

"uh?" you ask.

"just... fuck. c'mon." she grunts as she shoves herself off the desk and past you, her legs shaky as she walks. you laugh as you follow behind her, wrapping your arm around her waist to keep her steady as she guides you to the supply-closet in the back of the locker room.

the room's barely big enough to fit the both of you, but you shove in after your girlfriend to see what she's rummaging around for.

she turns around with a shy smile, avoiding your gaze.

"sev?" you ask.

she sighs, then shoves something she was hiding behind her back in your hands. you look down at the jumble of fabric straps and metallic buckles, and burst into laughter. "what's this?!" you ask.

"the emergency strap." sevika says, shrugging. you hinge forward at your waist as laughter overtakes you, reaching out to steady yourself on your girlfriend's arm.

"wh-- the what?!" you squeal. she groans, rolling her eyes but smiling a bit at your laughter.

"it's exactly what it sounds like! i keep 'em stashed in various places in case of emergency, like right now."

"how many emergency straps do you have sev?" you ask.

sevika shrugs. "half a dozen stashed around zaun. one in piltover, behind that bakery you like so much." she says. "it started with just one here and at the last drop, but then you jumped me in the alley behind your salon and i was completely unprepared, so i decided to stash one near all our go-to spots."

you can't stop laughing, you can't believe the woman in front of you is yours. "i'm so fucking in love with you it's insane." you manage to laugh out.

sevika's embarrassed expression melts, and she pulls you in for a crushing hug. you wrap your arms around her, the dildo and harness dangling from your hands and brushing her shoulders as you laugh in her arms. "i love you too." she mumbles. "i don't wanna fight with you ever again. not like that. i'm so sorry."

"'s okay baby. you were pissy, i was drunk, neither of us were in the place to settle a disagreement. i'm sorry i left. that was shitty."

"don't apologize." she whispers. you chuckle, then pull away from her shoulder to catch her eye.

"okay. but only if you don't apologize either." you ask. sevika smirks.

"alright, deal." she says. then, she reaches behind you and pulls the door to the supply closet shut. "now put that thing on." she demands.

you burst into laughter, but start navigating the loops of the harness regardless.

five minutes later, and you're balls deep inside your girlfriend as she fucks you.

sure, you're wearing the strap, but sevika's got you pinned to the door, working her hips and ass on your cock as she groans into her folded arms resting on the shelf of cleaning supplies in front of her.

"holy fucking shit, sevika." you huff. she whimpers, and you smack her ass. "baby--"

"more!" she chokes out. you growl, smacking her ass again and widening your stance as you try to keep up with the pace she's set. "fuck, fuck, more, i need more, please, mama, please gimmie m--"

you sink both of your hands into her hips, use all your body weight to crush her against the shelf in front of her, her back arching gorgeously, and you give her ass one more nice smack before you start hammering into her.

disinfectant bottles and sponges start falling off the shelves, which are hammering into the back wall. your hips are smacking violently against her ass, and she's doing nothing to muffle her cries anymore.

"yes! yes, yes, yes, baby, fuck!" she cries. "shit, i'm gonna cum, i'm gonna cum on your fuckin' cock, mama, fuck i missed you, i love you so much, don't stop, don't stop, please don't--"

"i'm right here, baby. not goin' anywhere."

sevika falls apart at your words. you hitch an arm around her waist to keep her upright as her knees wobble, and when she starts to squirt all over your cock, thighs, and the floor beneath her, you cum.

"shit, sev!" you cry. she's still cumming, gasping and getting out choked half-laughs of pleasure as you fuck her through your orgasm. with each snap of your hips, a little gush of cum leaks down sevika's legs. by the time your hips still, sevika's shaking and shuddering like she's being electrocuted. you laugh as you watch her twitch, little drops of cum 'plink plink plink'ing to the ground from her cunt. "you alright, baby?"

"mmmuhng..." she mumbles.

you chuckle and kiss her back. "'m gonna pull out." sevika winces and squeaks when you pull out, one final stream of squirt trickling down her legs as you do. you just grin, then turn her around to face you. she's grinning, her eyes closed in post-coital bliss, and you kiss her cheek gently. "open your eyes, baby." you whisper, reaching up and cupping her face.

sevika blinks her hazy eyes open, smiling at you. "hey." she grins.

"hi, love." you laugh. "how're you feeling?"

"babe..." she grunts, glaring at you a bit and flopping her arm out to gesture at the general soaked state of the closet around you. "jus' flooded your supply closet with cum. i'm amazing." she giggles.

you snort, and then swoop in to kiss her on the mouth.

it's surprisingly easy to clean the mess you made-- since you made it in the cleaning supply closet. the mops take care of sevika's puddles, a few paper towels dry hers and your thighs. she shows you where she stashes the emergency strap, in a tile in the ceiling, and you snort and make a mental note to disinfect it tomorrow.

you get dressed, straighten up sevika's hair as she does the same for you, and then you both stumble out of the supply closet, giggling.

cherry's standing in the locker room, an unimpressed look on her face. sevika groans in embarrassment, hiding her face against your shoulder, and you just laugh at your friend's face.

"hey cherr-bear." you great. she rolls her eyes.

"you two are disgusting. you traumatized poor shelly."

"you gave jimmy a blowjob during your smoke break just yesterday!" you squawk.

sevika perks up behind you at the new gossip. "you're hooking up with jimmy?" she giggles.

cherry snorts and rolls her eyes fondly at sevika.

"it's completely different if me and the girls hook up here. you are our mom. and you're, like, our cool new step-dad or something!" cherry shouts, waving her arms at you and sevika. "nobody wants to hear their parents hooking up!"

"thanks for taking care of her while i was being a shithead." sevika says, ignoring cherry's rant. she deflates, a sweet smile on her lips as she considers you and your girlfriend.

"just don't do it again. i had to stop, like, four girls from tryna murder you for hurtin' mom." cherry says.

you blink.

"wait, what?" you and sevika ask simultaneously. cherry just shrugs.

"'m just glad you made up. any longer, and trinity was really gonna call up her big brother." she says. sevika bursts into laughter behind you, and you smile, equally touched and disturbed by your girls' protective behavior. "you two go home. y'all clearly got a lotta catchin' up to do. i'll watch the girls the rest of the night, mom, and i'll keep your earnings for you until tomorrow." you raise a suspicious eyebrow at your best friend, and she laughs. "okay, i'll give you eighty percent of your earnings. i gotta take a little off the top-- rent for the past week of you crashing on my couch."

sevika's already in your locker, gathering your stuff and tugging you toward the back door. "thanks cherry!" she calls over her shoulder.

you let yourself be dragged out, blowing cherry a goodbye kiss.

in the alley, sevika shoves you against the brick wall for a sloppy kiss.

when she pulls away, her eyes are gentle and sweet. "lemme take you home?" she asks.

you smile. "lead the way, babe."

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352 @artinvain

[thoughtsfromlayla]

A Pirate's Dream For Me

Summary: Captain Fortune, pirate queen of the seven seas. You could never be tied down, no matter who it is that asks, no matter what it is that comes after you.

Notes: ~1.3k words, NAMED READER cause I thought it would be hilarious if a woman on a ship was named misfortune, cause yknow, they were considered bad luck *slaps knee*

Warnings/Tags: slight possessive Dream, but he's chill frfr

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Next

“Hard to starboard! Heave those ropes, now!” You scream as you run up the steps to the boat’s wheel. You hear your first mate repeat your orders and your crew flies into action. 

Thump… thump… thump…

The sound comes from deep in the waters, ripples following its movements. The air is heavy and hot, it’s stagnant even as the wind pushes on your sails. You shove away the person at the helm, ushering them to help out their other crewmates. You spin the wheel fast as you feel the wind change its course on you. 

“Come on, my beaut, fly for me,” You mutter to your ship. 

Thump.. Thump.. Thump..

You could smell it before you could see it, the vibrations of its tentacles came closer and closer to your ship and crew. It smelled of rotten fish and old metallic blood. 

Thump! Thump! Squelch…

“All hands on deck!” You scream again as you hear the slimy sounds of its large arms begin to crawl the walls of your ship.

Your heart is racing in your chest, but you find yourself caught in a smile as you watch the beast emerge from the depths of Davy Jones's locker. Tentacles three times the size of your mast, filled with suckers the size of the very wheel you mastered. 

The Kraken. 

A beautiful, deadly creature, come to take the love of your life away with one fell swoop. Well, you certainly won’t go without a fight. The sun blazes down on you, the feather on your captain’s hat whipping violently in the chaos of it all. Your crew falls silent, shocked and stunned at the view of the large beast. 

“Arm the cannons, fire at will!” You order as you watch those below you scrambling over each other. Your command brings them back to the present. 

Some disappeared below deck to start the cannons, and others began to raid the armory. The sound of blades being pulled from their scabbards and the clicking of guns being loaded penetrate the air as the ship sails the rough waters. 

Screams fall shortly after as the Kraken’s tentacles start to block out the sun. They come slamming down, the action sounding like a cracked whip. Its tactile arms feel around in large swoops as it grabs anything it can get a hold of. Barrels of gunpowder, crates of illegal goods, and your crew. 

You grab a random rod that was snapped out of place and jammed it into the helm, keeping your ship on course. With a yell, you fly down the stairs and unsheath your blade in one hand and cock your pistol with the other. A slimy appendage comes for you, which you shoot. The sharp pain of your bullet is enough for the beast to pull back its arm. But, not before it comes back again and finds itself wrapped around your first mate. His arm shoots out and quickly you grab it, the other coming down with a force to slice at the beast. 

You’re losing your men left and right as the tentacles climb higher and higher. You’ve seen this before, you’ve seen the absolute power the creature possesses. And amidst the chaos of splintering wood and screams you shouted your last order. 

“Abandon ship, head for land!” You scream defeated. 

At once, your crew drops whatever they are holding and heads for the longboats. They climbed over each other, dodging tentacles as much as they could before dropping haphazardly into the raging sea. You’re the last to leave, ready to heave yourself over the railing but the deafening sound of your ship snapping in half leaves you abandoned. 

You fall with the ship, and the humidity of the Kraken’s breath surrounds you. The floor cracks, leaving you falling to the ship’s magazine. The gunpowder was still dry…

With another bout of adrenaline, you crawl to your feet and throw the gunpowder's kegs against the walls. The kegs break against the force and you’re covered in the black soot of the explosive material. The sun disappears as you hear the grinding teeth of the Kraken close on themself. The ship groans under the pressure of the Kraken’s throat and with a deep, final breath you aim your pistol at the pile of gunpowder. 

A spark, a flash, and a boom.

The last thing you hear is the screams of your name on your crew’s lips. 

“You killed my Kraken, Miss. Fortune,” A voice pulls you from the depths. 

You feel the soft sand beaches of the tropics underneath you and you force your eyes open to the blazing sun that was probably giving you the worst sunburn imaginable right now. 

The voice that calls to you, it was one that you’ve heard twice before. Once upon a dream, when you were but a young girl watching your father making maps for the royal navy. 

“It’s Captain Fortune, and your Kraken destroyed my ship… Dream of the Endless” You groan as you sit up. Your clothes were tattered and burnt at the edges. “She was beautiful, though.”

“My beast, or your ship?” He asks as he looks down at you. 

He stands against the backdrop of every worker’s dream. The palm trees in the distance sway in the gentle breeze of the topics as they use their energies to bare the juiciest coconuts. His black attire made him stick out like a sore thumb, and his skin was ghastly pale compared to your sun tanned one after years at sea. 

“They are both your creations are they not, Dream Lord?” You respond with a smile. 

“Indeed they are,” He replies softly. He watches you carefully as you painfully stand on your feet. 

One of your shoes was missing, which he only acknowledges with a raised eyebrow. Otherwise, you seemed more or less intact, save for the burn marks on your forearms and upper thigh. If he hadn’t come at just the right moment, he feared he might have lost both beauties of the sea. 

“Have you reconsidered your answer to my question?” He asks. 

Your face snaps towards him with a frown; partially to block out that sun (where is your captain’s hat?) and the other because you hated that he asked. Your mind recalls the second, and only other time, you’ve encountered this otherworldly being. It was on the dawn of your 24th birthday, right before you woke up. He came to you in a hazy dream, asking if you wanted to become his queen. To rule the land of the Dreaming together, forever. 

You scoff as you remember. “Given my near death experience? The answer remains the same.”

“Which is?” Dream prompts slowly. 

“No.” You sigh and look out to the horizon. You need to get a new ship, and a new crew, everything can be replaced, but never freedom. You need to get off this island as soon as possible. 

“Then what is it you dream for?” Dream asks even though he knows the answer. He just wanted to keep you by his side for as long as possible, your very presence felt like a clarifying drug to him. 

“For the open seas, the chaos of life, the shine of buried treasure…” You begin to list off, shrugging. There were so many reasons. “A pirate’s dream for me.” 

“I will keep coming for you, my pirate queen” He promises in your ear, or threatens. The words balance on a thin line between the two. 

“I’ve already killed your Kraken.” You smirk and give a flamboyant, sarcastic bow before turning away. 

Little do you know that he has already gifted you a new ship on the other side of the island. He’s sure you’ll love it just as much as the last one he made for you. Dream doesn’t follow you, only his eyes do as your figure disappears. He’s already thinking of another beast to come for you.

The sea excites you, the chase excites him. 

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Next

[psychotic-nonsense]

Not sure if this is anything, and feel free to critique or add on or clarify and all that, but...

A few weeks post-Starcourt Steve, absolutely wrecked by the Russians and Billy. He's healing, little by little, but he knows he needs to put his pain aside to help out The Party. Especially Robin, who has not been coping with the trauma well. She's taken to spending the night at Steve's most of the time, and they help each other manage. She's not the best with physical comfort, nor is Steve with verbal comfort, but they're managing.

Yet despite the constant offers of help, Steve always refuses to "ask for too much" and often downplays his pain, forcing a smile to keep anyone from worrying. He's bottling up everything - probably handling it worse than Robin, even though he insists he's used to it and knows how to fix himself. Every day he gets a little worse, and every night he brushes off help.

It's during one of these late nights that disaster finds them again. It's Steve and Robin in his living room, and they're just about falling asleep on the couch when the ground begins rumbling, hard. An earthquake, shaking Hawkins and getting the entire Party in a frenzy. The radios are blaring with the kids' voices and Steve's trying to get Robin to stop screaming into the walkie, when suddenly there's a hole opening up in Steve's living room, and the earthquake stops. Steve and Robin go quiet, and the kids are urging for a response as they all rush to meet up at Steve's.

But he and Robin can't speak, too busy staring at the hole. One that looks way too similar to the Gates... but it glows blue instead of the usual red. Steve, ever the protector, is carefully stepping around the hole to grab a fire poker for defense. The second he does, the Party bursts in, just in time to watch the hole suddenly crack open further, sucking Steve in and closing itself behind him-

As Steve Harrington lands in the bedroom of Post-ST3-release 2019 Eddie Munson.

Eddie's living rough, bunking in his childhood friend Ronnie's basement. An orphan, can't hold a job, in his second senior year of high school purely because he knows he has nothing else to do after it. His only source of comfort so far has been DnD - either the DM hosting he does at the local library for the other poor lost suckers, or the one Netflix show with its elements that has captured his heart.

Eddie's a pretty big Stranger Things fan - it has its faults but is otherwise a really fun and interesting show - but ever since ST2, he's especially been a Steve Harrington fan. He feels like he goes mad just thinking about the implications of what that man has gone through, what all those kids have been through, and how Steve has put aside himself to focus on the kids. How much Steve has changed, and how under appreciated he is.

Since binging all of ST3 the day it released, Eddie's had a field day on breaking down this newest reformation of Steve. He adores Robin - clocked her as a lesbian from episode 1 - and loves that Dustin and Erica have been bringing out his bitchy side, while still keeping him in check. The Russian torture and strange parallels with Billy have made him cry on more than one occasion, and Steve's half-high speech in the bathroom legitimately felt like Steve finally acknowledging his change, even if for but a moment.

Ronnie's teased Eddie way too much about his "obvious crush on Joe Keery" but this feels way too personal for him to just be crushing on an actor. This is Eddie falling for the Fallen King of Hawkins himself, and it's much more embarrassing. Steve Harrington becomes his muse in every form of art; drawing, writing, character inspiration and improvisation. The Duffer brothers aren't the greatest at the rest of the show, but they've damn well got this guy down.

Hell, Eddie was halfway to crossing the last personal barrier to outright obsession (x Reader fanfiction) when the earthquake hit. In hindsight it wasn't the worst thing in the world, but Eddie had never experienced one before. He immediately dove right under his bed, covering his ears and curling up in a ball like a coward ("Nancy Wheeler would be ashamed," his weird ass brain supplies). He hears rumbling, things falling over, wood splintering and the world seemingly cracking apart all around him-

When a body suddenly lands hard on his bed with a loud scream of fear, cutting off as the whatever it is rolls straight off to the floor, and the world gives one final strain before going completely silent.

Terrified, Eddie's eyes are shut tight, cowering as the body on the floor just a foot away from him groans and gasps for air. It takes a sudden hiss of pain for Eddie to finally, carefully, crack one eye open.

Only to come eye to eye, through the gaps of his bedsheets, with the very muse he'd just been thinking of. Steve Harrington.

There's an immediate scramble of panic; Eddie bashing his skull into his bed frame trying to get out and away from the obvious hallucination, while Steve wobbles on his feet to defend himself against this strange humanoid Upside Down monster.

"What are you?! Where am I?!"

"What am- Are- You- No, you're not real- JESUS H. CHRIST MAN, GET THAT AWAY FROM ME!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, but you're gonna see how real this is if you don't tell me what's going on!"

"You think I know?! You fell into my room!!"

"Yeah, from your Gate!!"

"WHAT FUCKING GATE- WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?"

"I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!!"

That gets them both to shut up, just staring at each other. Eddie pressed up against the wall in fear with his hands up and out wide, Steve with the fire poker pointed straight at his neck and his hand held up cautiously. Eddie sees it, smells blood in the air, and ignoring everything, reaches out for it. Steve jabs at the air with the poker, but it's halfhearted, his energy clearly draining, too exhausted with the whole situation to try much further. Finally his arm drops, but Eddie doesn't move, watching Steve's face crumple in a way that aches everything inside his heart.

"Where am I...?" Steve pleas, tone just as desperate as the one from the Russian bunker, even when lacking its power.

Eddie fumbles for the words, but eventually just sighs. "Somewhere you wouldn't believe, my friend."

High and complacent on adrenaline and shock, Steve and Eddie just move in silence. Eddie grabs a wet cloth to clean the blood, Steve cutting off a bit of his sweatpants to use as gauze. It's just a gash from falling with the fire poker, nothing drastic, but the two stare at the cut in Steve's palm, easier to see than the one who's hand is on theirs.

Introductions are exchanged when they can finally stop shaking, and Eddie somehow drops the bomb on where and when Steve is, and what his entire existence is to this reality. Steve has a very brief existential panic attack about it, but is strangely comforted by Eddie's confidence about it all - "Even without El's powers, those kids are smart as hell. They'll figure out a way to make their own Gate and get you back home."

Then Steve just spends the next week or two in a reality almost 40 years in the future, where he and his entire existence is a sci-fi TV show. Some funny exchanges I've been thinking of:

Steve: Wait, so we're characters in a show, right? That means we have actors.

Eddie: Oh, uh, yeah, you do...

Steve: ...Think I could see them?

Eddie: Uh- Sure, I guess? Not sure what you're expecting, it's a live action thing, they look just like you.

Steve: Never getting used to your future phone... Huh, Joe Keery? Looks like a cool guy- woah, is that what my hair looks like short??

Eddie: Yup, again, literally just you.

Steve: Funny how we both have the most basic names too. Steve and Joe? Like, look at Dustin's actor, what kind of name is Gaten?

Eddie: Rude, the guy plays your little brother.

Steve: Quit bringing your fake show theories into my actual life.

Eddie: It's true though.

Steve: ...Yeah.

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

(Steve goes crazy after a few days of being locked in, and begs Eddie to take him out to "see the future." While they're walking around town, a group of girls suddenly freak out and rush them)

"It's Joe Keery! Guys, look it's Steve Harrington, from Stranger Things!!"

(Eddie's halfway to panicking, but Steve immediately handles the situation)

Steve: Sorry to disappoint, ladies, not him. Don't worry though, I've been getting that a lot since the show came out.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry! Hope we didn't make you uncomfortable, mister..."

Steve: Mark, and not at all! I get asked this a lot too, but do you girls want a picture? For bragging rights, getting to meet "The Steve Harrington?"

(They agree, Eddie takes it for them, the girls go on their way)

Eddie whispering: That's gonna be everywhere in 5 seconds, I hope you know.

Steve whispering: Eh, it's a crowd my actor didn't have to deal with. Besides, felt pretty good.

Eddie: Familiar experience?

Steve: For a better reason.

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

Steve, showing Eddie's laptop screen open to the FunkoPop website and the Scoops Duo, halfway to tears: They make figurines of me and Robin?

Eddie: Yeah, of all you guys. I've got a little Dustin on my desk.

Steve, beginning to cry from how adorable he finds it: YOU DO?

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

(Ronnie comes back from work early while Steve and Eddie are talking in the living room. Eddie freezes as Steve makes eye contact, and Ronnie just stares)

Ronnie: Um, hi?

Steve: Oh, hey! You must be Eddie's roommate, nice to finally meet you! I'm Mark.

(That allows a breath to finally enter and escape Eddie's throat in a bit of a laugh. Steve's really leaning into this Mark persona)

Ronnie: Ronnie, and likewise... Sorry if I'm acting weird, you're just a really good cosplayer. Thought you were actually Steve for a second.

Steve hesitantly: Nah, just a doppleganger.

Ronnie, shrugging and walking away: Well okay then, I'm way too tired to talk much more. Eds, just keep your nerd shit out of the sink-

Eddie: And stay quiet, yeah yeah, go rest, breadwinner.

(Ronnie goes upstairs, out of earshot)

Steve whispering: What's a cosplayer?

Eddie, suddenly also very tired: Tell you later.

I'm thinking that Eddie had sketchbooks, notebooks, and Word Docs absolutely stuffed full of ST character evaluation, which he immediately hid upon Steve's arrival. Maybe Steve gets bored when Eddie's out for whatever reason, and snoops around. That's when he finds it all crammed at the back of Eddie's closet. The kids, Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, Joyce, Hopper, hell Billy and Murray are in the pile. Drawings of them in their adventures, active and mundane alike. Pages upon pages of character description, Eddie's handwriting gushing about the parts of the show and characters he loves, hates, wishes was fixed, all of it.

But the part that gets Steve is one specific sketchbook and notebook, both dubbed the Steven Soliloquy. It's the same type of information as before, but only about him, and it's filled to the brim. Eddie talking about his development, his change of heart, the complete shift that Nancy and the Upside Down and the kids allowed him to have. The affects of his trauma, and how much he stuffed it down in favor of everyone else. Talked about his relationships, ones he cherishes, loathes, never thought of or never got the chance to make. Talked about "AUs," alternative realities where he got everything he ever wanted. Eddie's words, his sketches, devolve into adoration-fueled envy, wishing he could be near such an amazing man, that he was strong enough to be such an amazing man. How much his heart aches for Steve.

And if this were a normal situation, Steve would be uncomfortable, creeped out. But knowing the context of it all, Steve can't help but be enamored. That his family's journey, his entire story of survival - even when fictional to Eddie - is so valued makes it all feel a little more worth it. That there was someone out there during all of their terror, rooting for their victory, crying with their pain, screaming with their fears, understanding them because he lived through it all right beside them.

Eddie finds Steve in his room later that day, surrounded by those books. Staring at what Eddie considers his WIP magnum opus; a half-finished colored pencil recreation of the Last Supper with the entire Party, including all of the people they lost, happy and healthy. Eddie's two seconds from apologizing for how creepy it all must be - seeing how many of those books are open - but then he sees the tears in Steve's eyes. Gratitude and adoration and care, all bundled up and very suddenly staring right at him with the widest smile he's seen.

They talk about it. Eddie finally admits his minor obsession with the show, and how much they've helped him come to terms with being a self-dubbed loser. He honestly gushes way too much about what he owes to them about his life, but Steve listens to it all with complete adoration. At the end of it, Steve asks Eddie about the possibility that they've been adamantly ignoring for Steve's entire stay: actually watching Stranger Things.

And that's how they spend their last week. Starting from season 1, they sit in the living room and binge the entire thing. Steve learns an entirely new perspective about his family's adventures, not only from the show's canon, but from Eddie's theories and rants in between monumental moments. Eddie holds his hand during the scenes that focus on his worst nightmares; the Demogorgan in the Byler home, the breakup, his fight with Billy, the Russians. Steve provides his perspective on how he felt during it all, finally admitting to the pain he's gone through instead of just focusing on the others hoping it'll all go away.

Not sure where exactly it goes from here. Maybe some codependency grows between them. Maybe Steve falls a little in love. Maybe they just stay friends, the only ones who understand each other aside from their Platonic Soulmates.

Maybe, when another earthquake finally hits, opening up a Gate in Ronnie's backyard, Steve and Eddie finally must go their separate ways. Eddie promising to keep watching over them from across the realm, Steve promising to make a happy ending for their story.

Or maybe, Steve can't help but see what little Eddie has, how special Eddie actually is, and offer to bring him along. Into the very show he loves so much. Maybe Eddie convinces Ronnie that he'll be okay, swearing to be entertaining should he join the show in an important way, and making her swear that if he doesn't survive to bring him back in as much fanfiction as she can write. Maybe Eddie enters Hawkins, Indiana, and becomes a bit self aware about being in a TV show. It takes a while for everyone to warm up to the future man - and for Eddie to get used to Midwestern US in the 80s - but he becomes a close member of the Party quite easily. Maybe his involvement in season 4, his death, is avoided, and maybe it's not.

But his adoration for Steve Harrington never goes away. Not in canon, or in fiction.

[talesofesther]

sweet calamity | ch 1

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Series Summary: It was something people described as the sweetest pain, the feeling of when the soul that's destined to find yours is closer to you. Wednesday saw it as a curse, promised herself she would hate whoever was chosen for her; but it's easier said than done.

A/N: And so the soulmate au begins (I'm a sucker for those and we all know it), anyways, I know this first part is small, but think of it as a prologue of sorts. I also can't promise that updates are gonna be super fast, because I'm kinda figuring things out as I go :') so please, let me know what you think, and especially let me know if there's anything in particular that you'd like to see happening in this series.

Masterlist

There were bumps in the road; small holes and cracks on the tree-surrounded path that lead to Nevermore. It became a familiar one, given the number of times Wednesday has already passed through it.

Today was the first day of the new semester, the return of boring normalcy after Crackstone's defeat.

Wednesday's dark eyes looked out the window, counting the trees as they went by, shadowed by the cloudy day. Her thumb was pressing over the inside of her right wrist, sometimes scratching the skin there in disdain for the faint birthmark she was cursed with.

Many people — most of them — saw the existence of soulmates as something good, the world's compensation for its cruelty with humanity; they see it as a reason to look forward to the next day, a reason to believe in a happier future.

Wednesday had a clearer vision. She knew, from the moment her parents broke the news to her that there was someone out there who had a soul that complemented hers perfectly, that it was just another devious move of this universe. A trojan horse that presented itself as salvation only to torture you — for some people to the point of insanity. Because the world doesn't give you anything on a silver platter and this was no different.

The thing about soulmates, is that each one of the pair is born with an identical mark on their skin; a mark that aches the closer you get to your soulmate, resembling the burn of a lighter on a bare finger. However, once you touch the other person for the first time, that ache is gone, never to happen again.

You could be on a train, walking a busy street, or watching a concert in the middle of a raging crowd and simply bump into the one who bears the other half of you; only to never cross paths with each other again.

So really, if anything, Wednesday respected the boldness of the universe, to come up with something so enticing, so desirable yet so out of reach.

She heard stories of people who felt the burning ache, ever present as they chased it more and more, and then suddenly… nothingness. The realization slowly sinking in as they looked frantically from one side to another and watched the people walk by, along with their chance at a happy ending.

Over time, the number of people who found their soulmate started slowly decreasing. If you did, you could be considered one of the lucky ones.

Wednesday considered herself lucky that she hasn't ever felt what others described as the sweetest pain.

The Addams girl stepped out of her car, backpack in one hand and a small suitcase in the other as Lurch unloaded the rest of her belongings. Nevermore stood in front of her in all its glory; the grey stone walls high and partly covered by climbing plants as the trees around it changed their leaves to vivid yellows and oranges.

Many students were arriving and walking through the gates, chatting animatedly and making Wednesday scrunch her nose at the unsettling noise. She spared her peers no glances, unwilling to indulge them in pleasantries and gossip about the time spent away.

It was strange how some of them still glanced at Wednesday from the corner of their eyes, whispering in each other's ears as she walked right past them, as if she wouldn't notice. She sometimes caught on to some of the words;

She's that girl who killed the evil pilgrim. That's Wednesday Addams, she saved the school last year.

The attention was not something Wednesday enjoyed, it only gave people more opportunities to disturb her peace.

As she walked through the main doors of the entrance hall, she heard it; excited steps approaching without abandon until her body was engulfed in a sea of blonde and pink.

"Enid," Wednesday said her name as a warning, though if you squint, you could say she half returned the hug.

The werewolf pulled back with a smile that Wednesday could only describe as bruising. "Hi roomie," Enid greeted, her joy dripping from her words, "it's been so long I even started missing your gloominess."

"It's barely been six months, Enid." Wednesday raised a pointed eyebrow, her features impassive as she held her roommate's gaze — until she relented; "but I did notice the absence of your obnoxious music and incessant texting."

It got Enid grinning, and with a skip on her step, she followed suit by Wednesday's side as they both walked up the stairs that led to the quad, "felt like six years to me, I didn't think I would but I actually missed school, staying home with my brothers could be considered torture."

"You can always torture them back, the possibilities are endless," Wednesday suggested.

Most students were gathering on the quad in order to hear principal Weems' speech for the beginning of the semester, including the newcomers. All tables were already filled with outcasts, some of them even sat on the ground due to the lack of space.

Wednesday huffed as she looked around, annoyed with the commotion she was forced upon; she spotted Xavier, sitting against a stone pillar with his head buried in his sketchbook; Bianca, who sat cross-legged on top of one of the tables, chatting with the other sirens; and Eugene, who was slowly walking on the opposite side of the quad, he gestured animatedly as he talked with a girl Wednesday had never seen here before, most likely giving her the Nevermore welcoming tour.

"There are even more people than before," Wednesday commented.

"I heard that a few new students transferred this year," Enid spoke after following Wednesday's gaze, "Nevermore has become quite popular…"

But the werewolf's voice faded slowly, becoming background noise to Wednesday's ears. Her dark eyes, usually sharp and attentive, lost their focus. Her burgundy-painted lips parted with breaths that came too shallow; because all of a sudden, Wednesday could only focus on one thing.

It felt like touching the tip of a lit candle with your finger, barely there, so faint that someone less aware could miss it. But Wednesday would never. Right on the pulse point of her wrist, on top of the mark she was always trying to scratch out; it burned.

The hand Wednesday had around the leather strap of her backpack tightened its hold until her knuckles turned white. She hasn't blinked since Enid started talking and she could feel the back of her eyes stinging, but her body was stuck in time. Stuck in a moment that shouldn't exist.

Only when the feeling faded, did Wednesday let out the puff of air she'd been holding. She didn't turn her head, but her gaze skimmed over the quad against her own volition, finding Xavier and Bianca and… Eugene was gone but who cares, Wednesday's so-called other half had just been close enough for her to feel them.

For a second she could feel strings pulling at her heart, willing it to match someone else's beat; her skin got littered with goosebumps and she hated every second of it. Hated whoever it was that was inciting it upon her.

It was sadistically ironic, really, that the only person who loathes the idea of having a soulmate, will most likely be studying with them.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 2 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @gayestfeels26 @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @witchyhs-blog @tobylikesfire @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova

[krypticcafe]

How do you feel about CoD boys in a monster au? Whether they’re the monster or their s/o is the monster, I just think it would be neat. I’m partial towards werewolves but honestly I love anything that goes bump in the night. I LOVE the idea of a monster being afraid of hurting their partner but their partner knows that they could never hurt them. If you’re open to monster requests, I have so many ideas. Just… monsters, man

oooo are we spitballing bc I love throwing around ideas!!

I absolutely love monster AUs, one of my faves is @/bluegiragi's and I'm sure you all know that iconic one. I'm totally open to monster/hybrid requests, and a detailed list of what other things I write can be found in the cafe's Customer Service Policy aka rules :]

And monster-related plots? I'm a sucker for that shit, need more of that and monster!reader.

If I were to make a Monster Hybrid AU with my own specific ideas though, hmm...

Powerful and stoic, Price would make a great minotaur (lower half of a bull). Sure, maybe his back isn't what it used to be, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have the strength to send you back to your maker. Every step he takes on base acknowledges his presence, a posture that demands respect from its witnesses. The horns on his head aren't something to mess with either, though it takes him ages to scrape out the dried blood from the cracks and tailor his bucket hats.

On the other hand, the canine hybrid for Soap is oddly charming. Similarly to a werewolf, he would have the senses of one, but as a just hybrid, he's unable to fully transform. Instead, he's equipped with features like ears, tail, fangs, some fur on his arms and legs, and a longer tongue. I can see him being a border collie, the Scottish sheepdog just makes sense. But a kelpie/merfolk would also work with his callsign. Soap, a mischievous water spirit known for "cleaning out" rooms of enemies? A body with slick scales, gills, and a frilled mohawk when in monster form? Yeah, I can definitely see that.

For someone with a Queen's honor, a phoenix feels right for Gaz. Bright and burning wings and tail—a light that feels regal and elegant, yet so youthful and lively at the same time. With him in the sky, you're guaranteed to be safe under his watch. Or maybe a cervitaur with those doe eyes of his, gorgeous as ever. Yet equipped with a kick that's sure to shatter the ribs of those who mock him for being just a faun with a pretty face.

Undeniably, with such a specific callsign, Ghost can't be anything other than a wraith. Maybe mix in a bit of demonic blood, soul-eater tendencies, or even marks of an incubus for a little extra kick. His scars look more like shadowy cracks in his skin, smoke pours from the concerningly realistic skull he wears, he looks more like a reaper than a spirit. Regardless, this man is a shadowy phantom that provokes the fear of gods in whoever he sets his target as.

Roach, sure maybe his energy is fitting of a satyr or something more fitting and urban for our token American, like a roach version of Mothman. Bug wings and scales similar to the structure of an exoskeleton, But Roach came to be for being nearly indestructible, like the bug. In fact, it would be more accurate to call Roach, Roaches, as a bogeyman with a human body that can crumble into a swarm of those insects would explain why gunshots and explosions can hardly stop him.

Like Ghost, we can't deny who Hound is, either. Werewolf. Anything less would be criminal. For fun, mix it in with a bit of hellhound hybrid biology, so that he has to either go as a full hellhound or a human with hellhound features. Eyes that burn like Tartarus and a fanged snarl that even Cerberus would shudder at. Maybe even make him in charge of a hellhound K-9 unit, forced to face the very thing he fears.

As for the Reader? Well, that's up to you. Personally, I'm a little fond of shapeshifters. Might need to draw some of these ideas sometime...

Ah well, just some thoughts I had. Any other spitballs you guys have?

[eepwriting]

IV NSFW Alphabet

Warnings: allllll of it

Note - Sorry this took so long to get out. Tried to get through requests and got a little distracted lol. Anyway, here’s the final alphabet for my beloved ivy. 🤍

!! mdni !!

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚

✶ A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

➮ He’s very attentive. Throughly (but gently) cleans you up, will help you redress if you want/need to. Always gets you water and will watch you drink the whole glass.

✶ B = Body Part (Favorite on themselves, favorite on you.)

➮ He likes his chest and back. Strong, sturdy.

➮ He loves your legs. Enjoys having them thrown over his lap (or shoulders). Runs his hands from your ankles up to your hips and down again.

✶ C = Cum (Anything to do with cum.)

➮ Loves to see himself painted on your face and neck.

✶ D = Dirty Secret (Self Explanatory?)

➮ He listens to audios you send him when he’s around other people. An earbud in, just softly playing as he chats with friends. It’s not loud enough to really affect him but he definitely has a half chub.

✶ E = Experience (How experienced are they?)

➮ He gives off the impression that he’s beeeen fuckin but no. He doesn’t have much.

➮ Is very eager to try things with you.

➮ He’s able to switch into many different moods, despite not having a ton of experience.

✶ F = Favorite Position

➮ Spooning or standing behind you. Likes to be as close and all over you as possible.

✶ G = Goofy (Are they serious or playful and goofy?)

➮ Half and half. Most of the time he’s too lost in his own pleasure to play around but he’ll sometimes tickle you and crack jokes.

✶ H = Hair (How well groomed are they?)

➮ He keeps it short and tidy.

✶ I = Intimacy (How intimate are they in the moment?)

➮ Most of the time he’s very focused on you, making sure he hits all the right spots. Hands softly running all over you, whispering how much he appreciates you.

✶ J = Jerking Off

➮ Those audios we talked about before…he’s definitely locking himself in a room later and goin to town.

➮ Will always send you pics/vids/audios of his own.

✶ K = Kinks

➮ He likes to be praised.

✶ L = Location (Their favorite place to do the do.)

➮ Since he likes to stand behind you, he loooves to fuck you in front of mirrors. Doesn’t matter if it’s in the bathroom, bedroom, kitchen, hallway, anywhere.

➮ Gets to watch himself slip into you from behind while also watching your face.

✶ M = Motivation (What turns them on?)

➮ If you kiss on his neck or even just lightly run your fingers over it he’s grunting and breathing heavy.

✶ N = No (Something they would never do.)

➮ No what?? No scat, no piss.

✶ O = Oral (Preference on giving and receiving.)

➮ He loves blowjobs and will often (politely) demand them.

➮ But boy is also a certified munch/certified sucker. Bonus points if your thighs keep him trapped in between your legs.

✶ P = Pace (Are they rough and fast or careful and gentle?)

➮ Depends on his mood. He likes to take it slow if either or you are tired or you’re seeing each other again after being away.

➮ He also enjoys getting a little rough with you and picking up the pace.

✶ Q = Quickie

➮ He’s not a fan or hater. If you want to sneak away he’s more than happy to participate.

✶ R = Risk (Do they experiment?)

➮ YES

➮ He’s a big fan of trying new things. Sends you lists of things he finds interesting and wants to try.

✶ S = Stamina (How long do they last?)

➮ A very average amount of time but will make you cum before and after he finishes.

✶ T = Toys (Do they use them? On you or themselves?)

➮ As stated before, he loves to experiment so he’ll surprise you with new toys he thinks you might like.

➮ Not a super big fan of using toys on himself but will try if you ask nice enough.

✶ U = Unfair (How much do they tease you?)

➮ He’s a big tease. At the top of his ‘want to try’ list was edging and he couldn’t get enough of it when the two of you tried it the first time.

✶ V = Volume (How loud are they?)

➮ His noises are for the most part pretty quiet but he’s a big talker. Whether he’s complimenting, praising, degrading, generally conversing with you, he loves to talk.

✶ W = Wild Card (Random head cannon.)

➮ He definitely keeps a nude of you in his wallet.

✶ X = X-Ray (What will we find under their clothes?)

➮ His legs are covered in tattoos I just know it.

✶ Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

➮ It’s high and he makes sure you know it.

✶ Z = Zzz (How quickly do they fall asleep after?)

➮ He’ll only fall asleep when you do, and if you want to stay up, he’ll stay up with you.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚

This man y’all 😮‍💨

If y’all want to see anymore ‘series’ like this let me know cause all of them were so fun to write!

K. Bye bye.

[justicegundam82]

3.5 to PF1e Conversion: Waterveiled Assassin

Welcome back! This is a conversion I've honestly been eager to do someday.

Back in the good old 3.5 days, there was this evil god, Tharizdun, who was basically like a previous version of Rovagug, in that it just wanted to wreck everything and had suckered the four evil Archomentals (Ogremoch, Yan-C-Bin, Imix and Olhydra) into working for his agenda. Each evil Archomental had some favored avatars for carrying out their will, which were appropriately called Avatars of Elemental Evil.

Since I liked those creatures well enough, and I thought they can easily be incorporated in the Golarion setting with only a few changes... I'd like to try my hand at converting them, starting with the Waterveiled Assassin. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think and where I can improve!

WATERVEILED ASSASSIN

Image (c) Wizards of the Coast, from Monster Manual IV, author Daarken

Before you stands a monstrous, vaguely serpentine shape made of water, with hateful eyes and a mouth turned into a wicked sneer barely visible in what passes for its face.

WATERVEILED ASSASSIN       CR 15

XP 51’200

NE Large Outsider (elemental, evil, extraplanar, water)

Init +12; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +22

DEFENSE

AC 28, touch 17, flat-footed 20 (+8 Dex, +11 natural, -1 size)

hp 225 (18d10+126); fast healing 5

Fort +18, Ref +19, Will +12

Damage Reduction 10 / -; Immune elemental traits

OFFENSE

Speed 30 ft., swim 60 ft.

Melee 2 slams +25 (4d8+8 plus grab)

Space 10 ft.; Reach 20 ft.

Special Attacks churn, drench, engulf (DC 27, 4d8+12), grab, water mastery

STATISTICS

Str 26, Dex 27, Con 24, Int 10, Wis 19, Cha 15

Base Atk +18; CMB +27 (+31 grab); CMD 45

Feats Cleave, Combat Reflexes, Engulf Revulsion, Great Cleave, Improved Initiative, Iron Will, Lunge, Power Attack, Skill Focus (Stealth), Vital Strike

Skills Acrobatics +22, Bluff +16, Intimidate +16, Knowledge (planes) +16, Perception +22, Sense Motive +20, Stealth +32, Swim +36

Languages Aquan

Special Qualities liquid body, malleable form, one with water

ECOLOGY

Environment any (Elemental Plane of Water)

Organization solitary

Treasure standard

SPECIAL ABILITIES

Churn (Ex): As a swift action, a waterveiled assassin can batter opponents it has engulfed with mighty currents that it creates by controlling its own shape. All creatures currently engulfed within the waterveiled assassin’s body take 4d8+12 points of bludgeoning damage as the currents try to tear their bodies apart. A successful Fortitude saving throw (DC 27) halves the damage taken. The save DC is Strength-based.

Drench (Ex): The waterveiled assassin's touch puts out nonmagical flames of Large size or smaller. The creature can dispel magical fire it touches as dispel magic (caster level 15th).

Liquid Body (Ex): A waterveiled assassin exercises supreme control over its watery form, allowing it to flow around attacks, flatten itself against the ground to avoid a spell’s blast, and so forth. Any effect or spell that allows a Reflex save for half damage has a 50% chance to have no effect on a waterveiled assassin. Even if it is affected, the waterveiled assassin can still attempt a saving throw against the spell’s effect as normal. This ability also gives the waterveiled assassin a greater reach on its melee attacks, effectively increasing its natural reach to 20 ft.

Malleable Form (Ex): A waterveiled assassin’s control overits form allows it to flow through tiny cracks in objectsand move through the earth, walls, and other obstacles.The assassin moves at normal speed through terrainthat slows movement. It can move through permeable objects at half speed, but it cannot move through completely solid barriers, such as those produced by a wall of stone or wall of force spell.

If a waterveiled assassin ends its movement completely within an object, opponents do not have line of sight or line of effect to it. Its reach drops to 0 feet. Any creatures engulfed within the assassin automatically break free of the grapple and fall prone in a square adjacent to the object. If only part of the assassin is in an object, but its remaining space cannot hold all the creatures within it, the assassin may choose which ones to release.

One With Water (Ex): A waterveiled assassin that is completely immersed in a volume of water that’s at least 15 ft. wide, 15 ft. long and 15 ft. deep is effectively invisible, as per the greater invisibility spell.

Water Mastery (Ex): A waterveiled assassin gains a +1 bonus on attack and melee damage rolls if both it and its opponent are touching water. If the opponent or the waterveiled assassin is touching the ground, the assassin takes a –4 penalty on attack and melee damage rolls. These modifiers also apply to bull rush and overrun maneuvers, whether the assassin is initiating or resisting these kinds of attacks.

A waterveiled assassin is a creature of living water sent by Kelizandri, the evil Elemental Lord of Water, to slay his cult’s enemies. This deadly killer can flow through the smallest cracks to ambush and engulf foes, and its fluid form and mastery of water lets it strike at opponents from unexpected angles.

The waterveiled assassin is a canny hunter, making use of terrain advantage and of all their special abilities to surprise foes and dispatch them quickly. A waterveiled assassin has no use for a fair fight; it usually approaches its target in open water, taking advantage of its invisibility, or hides within a wall or a large non-waterproof object that can contain its bulk. When its target closes, the waterveiled assassin surges forth, rolling over its foe and trying to drown him or batter him to death in its liquid body. A waterveiled assassin usually focuses on the least armored foes, knowing they are more likely to be arcane spellcasters or to have dangerous abilities, and drags them off to an isolated spot for the kill.

If a waterveiled assassin has a weakness, it is overconfidence – an assassin might leap on a party’s wizard or sorcerer while disregarding physically capable combatants, and giving them the chance to heap severe punishment upon the elemental.

A waterveiled assassin’s form is unstable, but it usually stands about 12 feet tall and weighs 1'000 pounds.