#I still drink and I still eat sugar and I still eat in general but I have a system and I’m not ashamed of caring about looks

[navree]

"corporate america is deliberately trying to kill you by making super sugary drinks at coffee shops in order to line the pockets of big pharma!" you guys know you have agency here, right? like, you can choose whether or not to order the ice spice dunkin drink or not. no one is forcing you to only drink an iced coffee with two ice cream scoops of whipped cream on top. if you're drinking that you're choosing to drink that.

[peony-always]

Dial Drunk

wolverine/logan howlett x afab!reader

words - 4k

tags: dp&w!Logan, damsel(ish)!reader, angst angst angst (he has so much potential as a sad wet tomcat), feelings (Logan isn't good at them), use of alcohol, canon-typical violence, !attempted assault!, implied assault

quick an: this is my first full fic!! the ghost of Logan's past hovered over my shoulder as I wrote this, loosely based on Dial Drunk by Noah Kahan but it's more of just an inspiration border creds to @/bunnysrph

Logan was pissed. Furious. He was so overwhelmingly angry with himself that his claws had extended and for a while, he couldn’t retract them. He finally got them to slide back under his skin when the cop standing outside his holding cell door threatened to put him in with the general population if he didn’t put his ‘weapons’ away.

That was the last thing he needed right now. He was already on edge, and being surrounded by people who hated him just for who he was would probably be his last straw. He sighed, slumping back against the dirty concrete wall behind him. He rubbed his temples, taking a few deep breaths to calm his once again rising anger.

He understood why he was in that stupid cell. Bar fights were enough to get a normal person arrested for being drunk and disorderly, but cops were always especially ready to arrest a mutant. He hated that he had let his animalistic side get him here, proving them right about how dangerous he was, but he could only take so much of that stupid guy in the booth behind him spewing ant-mutant hatred right in his face.

“Damn liquor,” Logan thought to himself as his head continued to throb. That in and of itself was enough to make him upset, as he was typically so well acquainted with alcohol that it never got to him. Tonight, however, he had drunk way more than usual, throwing back shots in the dingy bar a few blocks from his apartment as quickly as the bartender could pour them up.

The idiotic man he had beaten at the bar wasn’t the true cause of his anger though. That honor fell to his stupid, stupid brain. It was after the cops had wrangled him and shoved him into their stuffy, too-small cruiser that Logan had made his infuriating error.

The driving officer, a short and stocky man with a pudgy face, had looked back at him from the rearview mirror and said,” The guy you were fightin’, George, he ain’t gonna press charges on ya. He’s in and outta the lockup every other week, and he ain’t gonna be lookin’ for any more trouble than he’s already in. Plus, I think you’re more of a danger to yourself than to anybody else, goin’ around that drunk. You ain’t caused any trouble before, but we still gotta bring you in. Procedure, ya know. Got anybody you want us to call to pick ya up?”

Logan hadn’t even thought about it before your name came spilling from his lips. He hadn’t even realized what he said until they arrived at the jail and the pudgy cop pulled him from the back seat. “Her? Really?” the cop said, suspicion heavy in his voice. “She babysits my kids on the weekends, didn’t know she associated with drunk fighters like you.”

Logan snarled on instinct as he heard the inherent prejudice in the cop's voice before he realized who the cop was talking about. ‘No,’, he thought. ‘God, no.’ He hadn’t seen you in months, and he hadn’t been planning on seeing you ever again. He didn’t know why he didn’t tell the cop he wanted to change his call. He could have gotten him to phone Wade or Laura, they would have picked him up in a heartbeat. 

Maybe he didn’t say anything because he wanted to see you, to make sure you were okay after the long months you had spent apart. Or maybe he was just still drunk, forgetting the past and wanting you to take him home with you, to let him have his seat on the couch while he sobered up, drinking your fruity teas and eating the sickeningly sweet cookies you always bought from the local bakery. “Too much sugar and you’ll rot your teeth out,” he’d tell you with a lopsided smile, knowing how you’d respond. Every time he said it you’d prance up to him and poke a finger into his chest, grinning,” You’re already so sweet that my teeth ache, so what does more sugar hurt?” And then you’d lean up, pecking him on the lips as you move to go back to your tasks. 

His heart ached as that memory resurfaced and his head fell to join his back against the unforgiving chill of the cell wall. He tried to fight it (no he didn’t), but his drink-addled brain was unable to stop the memories of you from flooding back into his system.

Your first meeting, a year ago that felt more like ten since you had left. Logan had been stalking his way down the street, huffing and puffing, pissed at Wade for inviting people over and blaring music when he had known that day was Logan’s only day off for two weeks. He had grabbed his jacket and stormed out into the chilly New York evening, turning left outside their apartment as he made his way toward the nearest bar. He craved a stiff drink, damn Wade and Laura had hidden all of the alcohol in the house from him. They told him he needed to dry out, and he did. He knew it as well as everyone else, but it was hard. After years of drowning his guilt and grief in drink, it made him nervous to let go, to face his days head-on instead of looking at them from the syrupy brown lens of his old friend whiskey.

It was on his way to the bar that he heard it. A muffled cry, the sound of flesh hitting concrete, a grunt of pain. He took off in the direction of the sound, his hyper-sensitive nose smelling the fear lacing the air the closer he got to a dingy alley two streets over. As he rounded the corner, he saw you. Your hands were bound behind your back and there was a gag stuffed in your mouth. Your eyes pled with Logan to save you as your attacker dragged you across the ground, mumbling and lurching back and forth as he pulled you along,” Stupid fuckin’ whore. Women. Always gettin’ in the way of what I deserve. Maybe I’ll put you in the dumpster when I’m done with you, let you rot with the flies.” 

Logan’s nostrils flared as he surged forward, yanking your leg from the man’s grip and pushing you further away as your attacker spun to face him. “What the-” was all the scumbag got out before Logan clocked him, knocking him out with one punch. He really wanted to keep beating on the guy, but his enhanced hearing had him turning toward you as you shuddered, whimpers escaping the gag as tears rolled down your face.

He held his hands up, approaching slowly and kneeling on the dirty ground in front of you and gently pulling the gag from your mouth as you squeezed your eyes shut. You let out shuddering sobs as he reached around you to loosen your bindings, careful not to touch you more than he had to. He had experienced more than his fair share of trauma, and he knew how hard it could be to have someone be so close to you when you were going through it, so he made sure to lean back as soon as he had freed you.

However, you immediately proved his assumption wrong. You slumped down against him, your hands fisting his t-shirt as you sniffled and coughed. “Thank-thank you.” you stuttered as you tried to calm yourself. “Thank you so, so much.” Logan tentatively reached around you to pat your back,” You’re welcome, bub. Just doin’ what needed to be done.” As his hand tapped out a soothing beat against your back, you felt yourself begin to come down from the adrenaline rush of almost being kidnapped. You thought back to the man’s ugly words, sniffling again as you whispered, “He was going to kill me.”

Logan bristled immediately, his hand coming to a halt on your back. “Never would have let that happen, ya hear me. I’d have heard ya from a mile away,” he grunted and gently stood to his feet, pulling you up with him. 

“You live close?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied. “Just down the street.”

He finally got a good look at you, and by God were you pretty. Even with bits of gravel leaving red divots in your cheeks and your eyes watery with tears, you were among the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. He shook himself out of his daze as you took a deep breath and started walking shakily down the street. He tried to stay close but not too close as you walked, following behind you and scenting the air for any more threats. He sure as hell didn’t want to put you through anything else tonight.

The two of you walked in silence until you finally stopped, turning to face Logan as you stood outside the lobby door of your apartment complex. You managed a slight smile as you looked up at him, “I’m sorry that I’m not inviting you in,” you said. “It’s just that this evening has been hellish and I’d like to be alone.”

Logan shook his head, stepping back, “No, no, I understand, I’ll be-”. You cut him off,” Come tomorrow around noon. I’ll treat you to coffee for saving me.” You said this forcefully, almost demanding him to do as you said. It shocked Logan, and a small smile made it’s way onto his lips. “Yes, ma’am.” You thanked him one more time and headed into your building, leaving Logan standing outside, staring at the doors, more curious about you than he had been about anyone in a good long while. 

He did show up the next day, letting you take him to a quaint cafe and buy him a coffee, plain black, which you teased him for. You spent what felt like hours asking him questions and telling him about yourself, and it felt so right, so natural for both of you. Just being there with you was enough to take Logan’s mind off of the things that haunted him, solely focused on your beautiful face and animated expression.

When you realized you had been yapping at this near-stranger for almost 3 hours, you figured it was time to go, gathering your trash and standing up, blush heating up your cheeks. “Thank you again,” you said. “For saving me last night and for letting me talk your ear off today.” Logan flashed you a small smile, tilting his head slightly, “How about the same time tomorrow then? My treat.”

He watched your face light up and thought to himself that he’d go broke buying you coffee if you’d just keep looking at him that way. You quickly agreed, telling him that you’d definitely be there if he wouldn’t mind you being a little late, as work was a little further than your apartment. 

And so it began, the two of you had gotten closer and closer, until a random Tuesday when you blurted out that you wanted to be his girlfriend, if he’d have you. After teasing you about your blush, he of course agreed, claiming that you had been his girlfriend for weeks and you had just noticed. 

You brought him around to your place, where you cooked with him, watched all your favorite movies, and made love. He brought you around to his place, too. You met Wade and Al, which prompted the discussion about his mutation and history. You took everything in stride, reassuring Logan that his past changed nothing, that you were still his if he was still yours. He found a job at a local community college, taking training classes and becoming one of the campus security officers. He quit drinking so much, instead relying on your perfectly brewed cups of coffee to get him through the day, only having a drink or two after work if you were feeling like it.

Logan had never been happier. It was like you were made for him. He took care of you and in turn, you soothed his battered soul. No one had ever touched him with the tenderness that you did, no one ever made him feel as good as you. His existence had become pure bliss and he felt he finally had a purpose again. 

Your lives went on this way for a year and three months, until, just like with every other good thing he had ever had, he ruined it. 

Logan had come to your place before you got off work, aiming to surprise you with dinner after you had complained of a particularly hard week. He had just stepped through the door when he stopped cold, smelling that someone was here, or had been here recently. It wasn’t a scent he recognized, and he prowled through the apartment, checking every room thoroughly for an intruder. When he found no one, he made his way back to the kitchen, still uneasy.

It was there that he saw the papers on the counter, one neat little stack that would change his life. He moved the blank paper on top and a chill shot up his spine. It was a photo of you, taken when he was sure you thought no one was watching. It showed you through the window of your apartment, a soft smile on your face as you put on a coat over your work uniform. He could even make out the locket around your neck that he had given you for your anniversary. 

He moved on to the next pages, letters detailing your entire life, down to how much your water bill had been that month. 

It was the second to last page that sealed his fate, his name next to a summons, a set of coordinates he was to come to or they would kill you. He quickly thought to himself that he could protect you from anyone who tried to hurt you, then immediately realized that that wasn’t the kind of life he had wanted to give you, always on the run and afraid for your life. No, he would have to end things with you and go take care of this mess himself. It broke him to think of hurting you in the way that he would be required to. You were so resilient, so passionate, and stubborn when it came to him. He would have to destroy all of that to get you to leave him alone.

And so, he sat down in the living room and waited, tucking the papers into his jacket so you wouldn’t see them. Dread filled his bones, dragging him down into the couch and he thought he might not make it out of your apartment alive.

It wasn’t much later when he heard the front door open, your lively humming filling his ears and making him feel so much worse. He stayed seated as you made your way through the apartment, shedding your bag and coat as you went.

“Oh, Lo! You scared me!” you said as you saw him, your hand going to your chest in mock shock. “What are you doing here before me?”

Logan swallowed and spoke, trying not to let his voice shake,”We need to talk.”

Your smile dropped instantly and you moved toward him, balking when he held a hand up to stop you. “Lo, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

The look on your face was killing him, so he looked away as he spoke,”I want to break up.”

You sank down to your knees, squinting as you tried to get him to meet your eyes,” What? Lo, what happened? I promise we can figure it out together. You’ve just got to tell me what’s wro-”

“I cheated,” he said, cutting you off. “I don’t want to be with you anymore. I want to be with her.” As soon as he said it, he knew if he could just convince you that he had really broken your trust that way, you’d be done with him.

You laughed slightly, awkwardly,” Logan, that’s not funny. You shouldn’t say things like that. Did I do something wrong or make you mad? I’m sorry for whatever I did, but you really shouldn’t lie.”

The look on your face was almost enough to break his resolve, but the need to protect you won out over his impending grief, “I’m not joking. I’m done with this relationship and I’m done with you. I've found something better.” He felt so wrong saying those words, knowing you feared that you weren’t good enough for him.

“Lo-Logan, please, we can work this out. I can do better, I can be better if you’ll just tell me what you need that I’m not giving you. Please.”

You reached out and grabbed his sleeve, your expression pleading. Logan felt his heart that you had mended shatter back into a million pieces, standing up and ripping his sleeve from your grasp.

“Are you stupid?” he asked, injecting as much venom into his voice as he could. “I said I don’t want you anymore. I don’t want you stupid food, or your stupid gifts, or your pathetic love. I’m done. Do you hear me? Get it through your thick skull and stay away from me. I never want to see you again.” He turned away from you as he walked toward the door, stomping over his heart on the way.

He shook you off again as you grabbed his pant leg, still on your knees on the floor. Your voice warbled as you begged.  “Logan, baby, please,” you cried. “I can change I swear. I can be whatever you need. Just please don’t leave me. You’re my whole life. You make me so happy. I can’t-I can’t do it without you. Please.”

He risked one glance back at you, telling himself he needed to see your face one more time to remind himself why he was leaving. The sight of you on the floor, tears pouring down your cheeks, was killing him. He should have known that he couldn’t have you, that something would force him to leave, but he had foolishly hoped that he could spite whatever higher power kept hurting him by keeping you.

“Don’t come around,” he spat with as much vitriol as he could muster. “I won’t contact you, and you don’t contact me. Let’s make this as easy for you as possible. Just forget I ever existed.”

He didn’t look back again, didn’t watch you weep as you began to mourn what you thought would be forever, knowing you could never stop loving him, even now that he hated you.

Logan groaned, leaning forward against his knees as he came back to himself, his heart aching as painfully as it had when he had lived it the first time. After he had left you, he had gone to the coordinates on the papers he had taken from the apartment. They led to a rural town in Quebec, a place he couldn’t remember but felt like he had been before. There, he met up with a gang of mutant hunters who believed that somehow the universe’s Logan had come back from the dead. They tried to kill him again and threatened him with more violence toward you if he didn’t die willingly. Fat chance. Logan was a newly hollow man and had no qualms about tracking and slaughtering every one of the mutant hunters so that his kind could live in a semblance of peace. 

He stayed up north for a while, squatting in an abandoned cabin and letting his instincts rule him. That was better than having his every waking thought be filled with how he had left you broken on your living room floor, believing that he had betrayed you.

Eventually, he went back to Vancouver. Somehow, his job let him come back, and Wade didn’t pester him with questions (probably because Logan had almost bitten his head off after he asked the second one).

He had considered going to your apartment now that the threat against you was handled, but he knew that as soon as he found happiness with you he’d have to leave again. It was for your own good, really. He wanted you to be happy, and you couldn’t be happy if Logan was constantly walking out on you.

So he went to work and started drinking heavily again, which had led him to the inside of a holding cell, coming to terms with the fact that he would be there all night.

As soon has he had laid down on the hard metal bench he had been sat on for hours, he heard footsteps approaching. He turned his head and watched the cop approach, fully expecting him to say that you had hung up as soon as you heard what they were asking of you. Maybe you hadn’t even answered and Logan would get another call. 

What he didn’t expect, however, was for the cop to swing the cell door open and grunt at him, motioning for him to get up. Logan quirked up a brow as he stood, “Is it chow or somethin’?” he asked. The cop chuckled, “You sure you’d rather eat the slop they serve here than leave with the pretty little lady that came to get you? She signed your papers, so you’re good to go. And please, don’t come back.”

Logan almost stumbled as he processed what the cop had said, his mind racing as he sniffed the air. 

You.

You were here, close. Your scent was so strong. Logan’s heart clenched. He truly believed he would never smell you again, the sweet musk of your skin paired with your perfume. He slowly turned, and there you were.

You were soaking wet, your hair drenched and your mascara slightly smudged, a jean jacket falling from your shoulders. Something was wrong, though. You were hunched over yourself, almost cowering in his presence. Your hands shook as you pulled your jacket further up your arms. Logan would have thought nothing of it and assumed you were just cold if you scent hadn’t changed. He could smell fear on you, a fear he hadn’t come into contact with since the night you met.

You turned and started walking toward the jailhouse door, glancing over your shoulder to make sure Logan was following you. He caught up to you in a couple strides, staying slightly behind you to give you your space. All he wanted was to reach out and touch you, to hold you in his arms again, but he resisted. On one hand, he was immensely grateful that you had come to get him. On the other hand, he felt so guilty that you had come to save someone who had broken your heart.

The two of you walked out into the rain, Logan still following you. You led him to a small car, one that you hadn’t had when he left you. He didn’t move as you rounded the car to get in, assuming he’d walk back to Wade’s from there.

“Get in, Logan,” you said quietly. 

He took a deep breath as he opened the passenger seat and got in, leaning forward so as to get as little water on your seats as possible. “Thank you,” he said. “Really, you didn’t have to come get me. I don’t even know why I gave them your name. I’ve just had too much to drink and-”

It was only then that you turned to face him, your face illuminated softly in the hazy light from the lamps lining the street. He scanned your face, his blood running cold as he saw your black eye and split lip, your eyes bright red with shed tears. “Logan,” you said, cutting him off. You took a deep, shaky breath, “We need to talk.”

[damiansgoodgirll]

HIIIIIII I saw you're Damian and Rhea x reader that you just posted AND I HAVE A IDEA (No rush I'm just sending it so I don't forget)

OKAY SO in the same universe as the previous fic what if backstage on Monday night raw finn starts trying to convince the reader to join the new judgment day (bc he obviously still cares for the kid) like trying to get jd or Dom to guilt trip them or even getting liv Morgan to be buddy buddy since reader had trouble making friends.

But the reader STAYS LOYAL to the terror twins 🖤

running to write this because i love it, here’s part one

the judgment day x reader (platonic) , mention of drew mcintyre

‼️finn being a good manipulator lol, family issues, fear of abandonment, angst, reader feeling insecure, brief mention of suicidal thoughts (sorry it’s a little angst)

don’t break my heart - part 2

you lied if you said that you slept the night right after summerslam. no, you were in your hotel room watching the ceiling over and over, thinking of what was going to happen now. damian and rhea made sure to stay with you a few hours after the show, helping you calm down and making sure that you would eat something.

but they were tired and angry, so you perfectly understood when they waved goodbye and went to their rooms. they needed time to think and to cool off.

5 am and you were up to board on your next flight that didn’t leave until noon. you were living off on caffeine and sugar drinks but you didn’t care. you had no idea what was going to happen on monday night raw because you weren’t supposed to have any matches that night, you knew you would go with rhea and damian but you didn’t know what your future was going to be.

once you landed and you checked in into your new hotel room, you received a text from finn, saying to let him know once you arrived at the arena because he wanted to talk to you.

you drove along with rhea and damian and they both sensed your fear as you kept quiet, “you okay there?” damian asked you.

“uh?” you woke up from your trance.

“dam asked if you were okay, is everything okay y/n?” rhea added turning to face you.

“oh yes, i’m okay, just a lil nervous…” you hated lie to them, you hated lie in general but you couldn’t tell them that you were about to meet with finn. they would probably get mad at you and the last thing you wanted was to have your best friends hating on you too, so you kept it for yourself.

damian kept driving, knowing that eventually you would open up to them when you were ready.

once at the arena you waved them goodbye and went straight to your changing room. rhea told you to get ready in case something happened and if she needed your help so you did as she told you.

you texted finn and told him he could come over if he needed to talk to you so bad and not even 10 minutes later you heard a knock on the door.

“come in…” you screamed and he let himself in.

“hey…”

“hi” you couldn’t deny that the situation was awkward. you stood there for a couple of minutes before he could talk.

“listen…y/n i’m so sorry for everything that happened at summerslam” he apologized to you but you knew he wasn’t sorry at all.

“you lied to me finn…”

“and you lied to damian and rhea because i’m pretty sure they don’t know i’m here” he smirked at you and that look made you sick in the stomach.

“are you here to threaten me? are you to destroy the little family i have left? what do you want finn…i have no time for more bullshit, please” your voice sounded broken and finn hated himself for the way he treated you.

“i know…i’m so sorry for everything and you have to believe me…i’m not sorry for damian or for rhea because i got tired of being their little puppy, dominik too…but i have nothing against you, never have, never wil…i care about you y/n…don’t you remember all the things we shared? all the things we’ve went through?”

and you couldn’t lie to him. you will always remember how kind and patient and caring he has always been with you.

he was the first person you told about your past, even before telling damian and rhea. he was the one who held you while you cried when you told him about your thought of ending your life. he was the one who comforted you and made sure you never felt left out. and he was true when he said you’ve been through a lot because he was always there for you.

but so were damian and rhea so you couldn’t understand why was finn telling you all of that.

“why are you here finn?” you simply asked him, his way of bringing back memories made you feel guilty. seeing how much you depended upon someone made you realize that you probably were better alone than with someone.

“i want you to join us…”

“join who?”

“me…y/n, me, dom, jd and liv…listen, i know you and i know damian and rhea and they will leave you at some point…they are both chasing vengeance and power, they want their titles back, they won’t be with you forever and, i’m sorry to say it but they won’t take care about you forever…you saw the way rhea treated dom or the way damian treated jd…” his words were starting to impress in your head “jd kinda likes you” he chuckled “no, i’m pretty sure he has a crush on you…and listen, liv is really a friendly person, i know you don’t like her right now but i promise you, if you get to know her you will like her more…just give us a chance”

maybe he was right.

maybe you would ended up being alone one day and he was right about that damian and rhea had their own lives apart from you. hell, rhea just got married, maybe she would like to start a family one day…maybe finn was right.

finn always cared about you, he proved it many times so why were you afraid of trusting him?

“i-i…i don’t know finn…” your mind started to overthink. you were feeling overwhelmed and despite you still loved finn, despite you still caring for him, you couldn’t betray damian and rhea.

“listen i-…”

“no finn, you listen to me. how can you expect me to choose between you or them? how-how can you tear this family apart like this? because maybe for you it was nothing but for me…for me it was everything…” tears slowly falling down your face.

finn knew that it was wrong putting you in all of this mess. he knew that no matter what he still would have a space for you in his heart but the idea of choosing them instead of him made him feel useless, like somehow he failed you.

“i can’t choose between you or them because you are the ones who broke this group apart…” more tears falling from your eyes “i-i can’t finn…i can’t” and before he could say anything else, you turned to face the door and quickly left your changing room.

drew noticed you walking down the arena corridors with teary eyes and no matter how many time he called you, your mind couldn’t register any sound or noise. it felt like you couldn’t hear anything except your heart beating in your chest.

i just saw y/n crying and going towards the emergency exit of the arena. finn balor just came out of her changing room. don’t know what happened but she seems overwhelmed, she needs you.

drew texted rhea. he was pretty worried when he saw in what state you were in. he knew that even if he chased you, you probably would have just pushed him away. he knew something about your past and he knew how the other females in the roster would give you “the looks” and honestly he felt for you, he just wanted you to feel welcomed because for him, the wwe was just a big huge family. he knew that you needed time, that’s why he warned rhea.

when she read the text, she felt her heart missing a few beats.

“what?” damian asked a little concerned when he saw the look on her face.

she was still a little shocked “drew texted me…he saw finn leaving y/n’s changing room and he said that when she left she was crying…she’s probably going’s back to the hotel, he said she’s going outside”

that was all damian needed to hear before leaving rhea’s changing room and sprinting over the emergency exit. rhea following behind, making a note to thank drew later.

they both saw you sitting on the emergency stairs and slowly they both approached you.

damian sat in front of you while rhea sat next to you “hey angel…” rhea slowly turned your face towards hers “why are you crying beautiful?”

in that moment you saw it in their eyes.

they cared.

they cared like a family.

rhea was about to cry because she couldn’t stand the idea of seeing you upset.

“finn wanted to talk to me…he, well, he basically offered me a spot to join him alongside with dom, jd and liv…” you said. you feared that they would get mad but rhea’s eyes told you the opposite.

“and what did you say?” damian asked you, gently smiling at you.

“that i can’t…i can’t leave you, i can’t even look him in the eyes, it just hurts too much and i can’t have you hate on me too” you softly spoke.

damian looked at you and saw nothing but pure intentions “y/n…we could never hate you. we know how close you and finn are, and i know it hurts right now so we won’t forbid you to see him again if you want to…”

“but i can’t damian! it doesn’t feel right, it’s not right! i’m not turning my back on you, i would never do that…you guys mean so much for me and i can’t stand the idea of losing you or hate you but…but finn said some things that made me think…”

“what did he say sweetheart?” rhea gently asked.

“well, for instance, rhea you just got married…and i can’t hold you back for the rest of my life just because my head is a fucking mess, you have your life and i don’t want you to feel the need to look after me forever…same goes for you damian, i can’t depend on you for the rest of my life…”

“that’s absolute nonsense y/n” damian said and rhea agreed with him. she was mad with finn for playing those mind tricks with you, knowing exactly that your mind wasn’t in the right place and that you would get negative thoughts very easily.

“listen” damian spoke “we are a family okay? we stay together, now, tomorrow and in ten years okay? just because we have a life outside this company doesn’t mean that you’re not a part of our life outside of it okay? we stay together instead and outside…i love you like you are my own sister, fuck you could be my daughter y/n…” damian joked making you laugh.

“damian’s right” rhea held your hands “we stay together because we care about you, now and in a million years…”

“thank you for everything guys…” you smiled at both at them.

“you don’t have to thank us love…” rhea wiped some of your tears away “now, why don’t you help me getting ready uh? tonight’s gonna be a big night and i want to look perfect” she laughed making you laugh too.

“yup” you smiled and with their help you got up from the uncomfortable stairs.

rhea mentally noted to thank drew and to kick finn’s ass because he made you doubt yourself, and most importantly, he made you cry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

okay so what about part 3 with reader and drew getting to know each other and developing feelings for each other and damian and rhea acting like big parents to reader?

PART 3

[britishteen]

You’ve always been hot, but how did you get so snatched? Is it just mindfulness or avoiding inflammation or something.

Finally, a question not accusing me of being a crackhead or an anorexic!

Okay, first I got real with myself about how I was living my life… was it really 80/20 or more like 60/40? I started to pay attention to a lot of people on Instagram who had what I wanted, which was a healthy and beautiful lifestyle, like mishka di. Liv shmidt is great if you don’t know how to eat/ are not a skinny bitch who can eat whatever tf they want. I consumed music, tv shows, YouTube videos, and ig that helped me see my dream life.

I did not particularly cut anything out, just had a lot less of it. Like coffee, I broke up with her but still have occasionally- like once a month. I drink matcha, or tea. Peppermint tea with honey, rose tea, blueberry and sage, and I usually always add honey. I drink electrolytes. They’re like $30 a pack but make me feel so much better in general. I really don’t eat dairy or gluten but because I really focus on fruits and vegetables to take up most of the space in my stomach.

I got a class pass, so I do an occasional yoga class, but I mostly walk. 12 3 30 on the treadmill or I walk as much as I can in a day. I do ab exercises on a mat like twice a week. Sometimes use weights, literally I just try to move, jump rope, help my boyfriend carry stuff, chores around the house.

I am in a calorie deficit. I don’t drink sugary coffee, I make matcha at home with maple syrup and sometimes I skip the almond milk and sugar. I really just want to feel clean and not sticky inside.

I eat fruit a lot. I eat vegan a few meals a week, I eat meat like twice a week. I don’t eat gluten a lot and I don’t eat dairy a lot, but I will have it when I want it— usually just makes me feel like shit. I make my meals at home— and I usually under guess how much I need. You don’t need that much, especially if I walk like 5k steps. I don’t drink alcohol, and I don’t smoke pot. But I will if I want to— I usually just don’t want to. I am very aware of how everything makes me feel and I suffer from panic attacks OFTEN so I try to really see what the hell is influencing my body. Overall, I really just try to treat my body with respect.

And I chase lightness, I always want something refreshing. And taking hot baths helps you get snatched, I do them almost daily. Everything I am doing is out of deep concern for where my body will be in a few years, and where my mental health will be.

[lotusloong]

Do you have specific headcanons for the different Monkey Kings? Do you have a favorite? Mine is Dasheng from Hero is Back :3

Hi hi!! Specific headcanons hmm? I guess I do have a couple that are general as well as some that are relationship specific! Honestly if people want to request specific headcanon lists and reactions I'm happy to write those too!

General headcanons about miscellaneous monkeys!

Out of all the different Wukongs that exist, MKR!Wukong is the best cook. I think this purely off of vibes, the fact that in his movie we see him savor the flavor of the immortal fruit and literally travel across China to get the most luxurious bowl he can for his master to drink water out of…It comes off to me that he’s a Wukong who cares about food and how it's presented.

Which is good for his S/O, you will have the best meals while traveling on the road with him. The only other person he shares food with would be his Master, and even then it’s on a rare basis. You? You’re eating what he makes every night and you best believe that Bajie is practically crawling at your feet begging for a taste cause he knows MKR!Wukong is the best cook in the group, who also refuses to share with him.

Contrary to this, LMK and NGNR!Wukong are both the worst cooks. Not that they don’t know how to cook, they can whip up something decent, the problem is do they have the patience and desire to do so? LMK will literally subsist on those peach chips, eating only that, if he was allowed to. Its not like it’ll kill him, but it would affect his fighting and general stamina levels so fine, he’ll eat a proper meal…

NGNR!Wukong is similar but the reason he doesn’t care about eating properly is because of that general hopelessness and depression he’s fighting through. It’s hard to convince himself to actually get out of bed some days, he definitely doesn’t care about standing in front of a stove to make a proper meal for himself. This does get better after Li or an S/O enters his life. Having people who care about you and encourage you to keep going definitely helps.

Netflix!Wukong would so totally have a skin care routine in modern day. He is all about face masks and sugar scrubs. If he and the Eastern Dragon King ever settle their differences and become friends, they would go to the spa together and gossip about other gods the whole time.

Speaking of, if his S/O is having a bad day, Netflix!Wukong would hold up a finger, telling you to wait just a moment as he leaves the room. When he comes back, he’s wearing a plush robe (with one for you thrown over his arm ofc) and a bottle your preferred drink after a hard day. He’ll settle down next to you and pull out his beauty care stuff, anything from face masks to nail polish, and encourage you to “spill the tea”, as the kids say in the modern day, while you pretty each other up.

Now BMW!Wukong is extremely protective. Not to say the other Wukongs aren’t, but BMW is probably the most…feral about it. Other Wukongs would simply bash your attacker on the head and glare before turning to you, asking if you’re okay, you’re not hurt right, etc-

But BMW? He’s not hitting your attacker on the head to knock the guy out, he’s lifting the stupid fucker high above his head and suplexing him back into the dirt. If your attacker is still twitching and groaning after that, Wukong will go for the throat. With his teeth. It’s a messy and bloody death, and after giving the corpse one last kick for daring to upset you, he’ll turn back to you with these big ol’ vulnerable eyes and ask if you’re okay.

There’s blood coating his entire front half, but you’ve never felt safer.

Now HIB!Wukong is so goddamn tired, but this monkey will do anything if it makes you and your adopted little ones smile. He’s probably the most “responsible” Wukong to exist, but that's still a very loose “responsible”. He’s still a Wukong, through and through, and has his moments of mischief.

An example - HIB!Wukong is notorious for stealing your things and holding them hostage till you give a “proper” amount of kisses. What is the proper amount of kisses? Who the hell knows, he never says. It changes every time he makes his demands. You’ve learned as his S/O to just pull him close and give him kiss after kiss till he’s a puddle in your arms. Then you’re free and clear to take your stolen item back and he won’t even complain.

I hope you like these! If anyone wants me to expand on them or wants to start a convo with me about any of the monkeys I’d be ecstatic to answer!

As for my favorite version of our monkey…Honestly I don’t know if I can choose? I really like them all for different reasons! I like how certain versions focus more on Wukong’s flaws and how he has to work to overcome them, like Netflix, LMK, and the OG Book version. But I like how other versions focus on how lonely he is and how he struggles to make genuine connections with others because of the life he’s lived, like HIB, NGNR, and MKR.

I also love how each of them has their own unique style that fits them! You would think there's only so many different ways you can draw a monkey, but the different sources (and even fans!) have so many unique ideas that really shine and make each Wukong their own! 

I could say my favorite Wukong is Black Myth/Destiend One because he’s the one that got me to nose dive into Chinese myth and lore, but I also have a soft spot for MKR because he was the first movie version I watched and I adored how they tackled his inner struggle with caring about those around him. But NGNR is veeeerrryyyy much my type. I love his casual swagger and nonchalant attitude towards everything, because he knows he’s the baddest bitch in the room and no one is going to challenge him and his strength. (That scene where he’s walking through East Dragon’s foyer and is messing with all the goons? Stealing their drinks and hats and calling them dumbasses as he passes by? Holy shit I was ready to get on my knees for him right then and there.)

And I could go on and on with the others like how I love HIB because the English version has him voiced by the legend Jackie Chan himself! And he loves his kids soooo much and my breeding/pregnancy kink loooovveeess that about him. Same with LMK! He tries so hard to be a good role model for MK, even if he messes up, because he genuinely cares for the boy!!! AAHHGGG-!

Honestly I don’t think I can choose just one as my favorite. They all have so many good points ♥

[bunnyinvanilla]

bar owner price getting hit on by some woman who’s not reader pleaaaaase 🙏 (fluffy or smutty idk)(both perchance)

thank you for requesting this flower blossom!! I hope to live up to the expectations, its longer than I planned it to be, but enjoy your freshly baked pie!🍰

warnings: sugar daddy price, sugar baby fem!reader, slight sliiiight public play, jealousy, laaarge age gap! price is in his 40s and reader is 21, ringed hand! oopsie!

you were sweet and kind, yes, but oh weren’t you the jealous type.

dammed be that time you’d asked price if you could still ‘help around the bar’ when it got too busy, when you could’ve simply been sitting on his lap, read a book and be his little sugar baby in peace. you rubbed a tablecloth against the already crystal shining bottle of whatever rich liquor bottle were holding, mind and eyes completely elsewhere — the night had started pretty good, John had been busy discussing with his teammates about the next upcoming mission, and you had been dusting off the countertop, all ribboned and dolled up.

but, just as little bunnies could catch the tiniest shift in the environment and put their senses in alert, ears twitching upward, stilling in their tracks, as the night went on, you could feel something, no, someone that didn’t please your inner senses.

you carefully placed the half filled glass on the tray, eyes shifting to where John was sitting. His ringed, left hand held up his usual poison, scotch with no ice, but Simon wasn’t sitting in front of him, nor was Gaz, or Johnny.

no, an older, clearly attractive woman was — everything about her poured an uneasy feeling down your spine, the way she was practically eye-eating john up, not even trying to hide her obvious smirk, shamelessly undressing him with her eyes.

you blinked, dumbfounded, towards her. She was everything you were not, generously gifted curves wise, confident, and conventionally attractive. If you were a bunny, she was a whole panther.

she leaned herself closer, practically squeezing her chest up to him, her lips mouthing something you couldn’t quite catch from here, but John wasn’t looking at her, his eyes were focused down on his glass, the tip of his finger distractingly tracing the circular edge of the glass.

he literally owned the bar, he could simply make her leave and do you a huge favor, right?

you let out a shaky breath, feeling the familiar sensation of warm, burning roots of jealousy creep up your chest and paint your cheeks red. Your throat stung, welcoming in the feeling that almost made you want to stomp your foot on the ground like bunnies did when they were upset and offended.

you angrily picked up the tray, walking down towards the costumer who’d been waiting for his order. He was sitting a few seats away from them, and despite your crippling frustration, you smiled at him softly, placing his drink down.

“could show you a great time, big bear”

you stilled at that luring, seductive voice, your smile faltering when you heard her words. You hated the way it sounded, the way she dared to use a nickname on him. Only you could.

she winked at him, and stood up, her clothes revealing enough to leave little to the imagination. Great, you’d have to ask Johnny to get you some ice cream so could eat it while crying over yourself. You heard her heels clink distantly, towards the back of the bar, down to the bathrooms, and you straightened your back, a flustered, annoyed expression on your usual soft, smiling face.

taking the empty tray back with you, you walked past John, ready to hide yourself behind the counter and brood all night long about what had just happened — your own heels sounded louder than usual, each step trying to ease up some pent up sparks of anger,

“doll” the gruff, deep voice called from behind you, low and heavy. You stopped, still not facing him, halfway past him. You frowned, waiting a few seconds before turning towards him and start walking again,

one, two, three, four steps until you were in front of him. He was looking up at you, eyes always so impossibly intense, you could never tell what he was thinking, always so impassible, self assured and keeping his composure.

that’s when your juvenile immaturity came out. You crossed your arms together, shifting your position imperceptibly, yet little enough that he could see the light tilt of your hip. Now it was his time to stare, his eyes warm like the golden liquid he’d been drinking, taking greedily in every inch of your feminine, short uniform.

“what, sir? do you need an ashtray?” you questioned, your sweet voice tinted with an uncharacteristic sarcasm as you blinked down at him.

oh, he loved seeing you like this. A part of him got off at seeing you all pent up and flustered. His brow perked, the side of his mustache twitching up amusedly — your eyes fell onto his lap when he shifted, parting his legs and shifting his hips upwards, spreading his thighs wide. He brought his free hand down and patted his lap twice, gesturing for you to sit down.

the sight made you flush, your cheeks grew red and your belly twisted with a warm knot, you could feel your panties already growing wet, but you remained resilient for an instant. “I can’t, I’m working”

“you can if I say so” he didn’t leave any room up for questioning, muttering the words out like an order, knowing well enough you always did whatever he told you to — you were his good girl, after all.

you bit the inside of your cheek, and sighed. You were annoyed, jealous, you didn’t care how immature it seemed. You turned around, sitting yourself down into his lap.

his arms quickly crossed around your waist, pushing you closer against him. He drank quietly from his glass, eyes studying your crossed arms, your red cheeks, and pout.

that’s what made bunnies all worked up then…

“easy, pet” John chuckled, warning you so gently with a tone that made you shiver on his lap, his warm breath fanning over your neck, “eyes on you, love,” he murmured, his hand sliding from your waist all the way down your short, tight skirt, resting uninvitedly between your thighs “always.”

he was wolfishly trying to soothe you, trying to mold your mind into reassurance.

”but she doesn’t know it,” you replied, and John almost grinned at how adorably you looked and sounded, always so polite, quiet and sweet, he’d never seen you quite this annoyed.

that woman chose that exact moment to come back from the bathroom, and price could feel your body tense up against his, tense and nervous. She slowed her tracks upon seeing you all curled up on his lap, a glint of realization crossing past her and a frown decorating her face.

“shh, sweetheart,” John murmured gravelly against your ear, but you were a bundle of nerves. He sipped from his glass — eyes narrowing at the woman across the room. He slid his hand further down, slipping right underneath the hem of your skirt, brushing up and down your thigh without going up too high in the public setting.

you held your breath, your cheeks burning a bright red, and turned your head to look down at him. He set his drink down, and with an unexpected movement, he gripped your thigh and pulled you harshly closer to him. “wait, sir-“

“look at me, doll”

you did.

“who gets to have me every day, anytime she wants?” he rasped quietly, his gravel voice making you clench your thighs against his hand. His tone had been clear, he wanted you to answer him. “answer me, sweetheart.”

“i-i do” you blubbered out, arms no longer crossed, but on both sides of his legs.

“who do i take home with me, to my bed, to the back of this bar, every night?” his hand travelled higher, brushing against the hem of your panties, the cold metal of his rings against your clothed clit. You could feel a hardness underneath your lower back, and you blushed at the feeling of his erection pressed against you, almost fighting the urge to grind against it.

“me, sir…” you breathed out, your pent up frustration and jealously slowly being replaced with other feelings.

“who gets daddy like this?” he accentuated his words with a subtle buck of his hips against you, making you swallow back a whine at the feeling of his hardened, clothed length underneath the fabrics of his trousers.

“m-me, sir…”

“good girl, she wants what she cannot have,” he twisted two fingers, pressing the hard material of his rings against your panties, making you trap and bite down on your bottom lip. The thin hem of your skirt covered that act to the outsiders, hiding it from peering eyes. “can stare all she wants, daddy’s all yours, bunny”

with a swift motion, he put his hand underneath your chin, and tilted your head up towards his. “behave f’me, love, ‘aight? no need to be jealous”

you’re still pouting, a shy, annoyed bunny that was just clingy and needy, could you blame her? You nodded and he leaned back on the sofa chair, veiny, hairy hand distractingly caressing your thigh, not venturing too far.

you hadn’t even realized that the woman had left the bar, mind too focused on John’s hands and words, but before you could say something, he tapped your thigh twice. “now, get up and go to my office, need to help daddy fix what you’ve caused”

[bonne-chanson]

If you'd be interested, could you write a story about the reader having to take care of Ranpo when he's sick?

a/n: this is perfect timing actually bc i’m down with a cold rn HAJDBKDN eurgh :(( anw, i hope you enjoy this (reverse?) sick fic! not sure if i captured ranpo’s personality enough, but i tried :’> there’s an established relationship here, so if this isn’t your cup of tea and you just wanted reader taking care of ranpo in general, feel free to tell me so i can whip smth up quickly for you! :>

under the weather and your care

✑ character/s: ranpo edogawa x reader

✑ short desc: his immune system is struggling way too much after playing in the rain and eating lots of candy.

✑ content includes: fluff ; sfw ; established relationship ; sick fic ; nothing to warn anyone about, reader just has to take care of ranpo

✑ word count: 1.6k words

"I told you to drink more water."

Ranpo could only huff at your berating words, crossing his arms childishly while he turns his head away to avoid your stern gaze. As much as he was the world’s greatest detective, his boyish behavior still makes him refuse to acknowledge the fact that you were right to say that too many sweets without drinking enough fluids and having a fever was, indeed, a terrible decision.

A few days earlier, the both of you were assigned to a mission that somehow ended in having to travel to Shibuya for the final piece of evidence. Ranpo, as always, lived up to his title by piecing everything together within half a minute, and the next train to Yokohama wasn’t going to stop by the station any time soon, so he asked himself (and you)—

What harm is there in exploring the city for a little while?

It turned into a spontaneous date of sorts, enjoying all kinds of tourist spots from dressing up and playing around with many colorful fashion pieces in Harajuku to riding go-karts around the emptier streets (which ended in chaos). His favorite, however, and not much to your surprise, was visiting Totti Candy Factory with you in tow, immediately heading over to the buy a big serving of rainbow-colored cotton candy to munch on before grabbing at least two baskets to put the rest of his chosen sweets in (and unfortunately, you ended up going home with five).

Of course, being the ever-loving darling you are to your sugar addict of a boyfriend, you paid for everything. How could you not when he pouted at (coerced) you into bulk-buying them for him?

Everything was fine, even with the amount of candy bags you both had to carry, up until it started to rain.

Shibuya crossing was surprisingly emptier than usual considering it was already late in the afternoon on a weekday, and the freedom to prance around in the rainwater gave him enough thrill to begin jumping on the bigger puddles of the street, yellow rainboots creating the biggest splashes. Pedestrians and passersby eyed him strangely before avoiding him as they walked along, and you, charmed by his adorable character, thought it was funny—

…Until his boyish antics made him roll around in the puddles simply because it was fun.

It didn’t take much longer before you were dragging him away from the street and bowing your head apologetically at the surrounding people crossing as he whined helplessly. Soon after, you found yourselves sitting on a train back to Yokohama, the cushions wet with rainwater as you sat across each other. The poor detective complained about wanting to cuddle closer to you for some warmth, but you rejected his advances, trying not to get the seats any more wet than they already were.

You awkwardly avoided eye contact with him on the way home, guilt gnawing at your insides, and when you gathered enough courage to catch a glimpse of him in front of you all shivering and grouchy, the tug on your heartstrings made itself known. Though, it wasn’t really enough to justify getting your clothes wet in the process, so you forced yourself to look away instead.

(You’d regret that later.)

Yosano could only sigh at the condition your boyfriend was in when the two of you first entered her office, but after prescribing some medicine and her usual advice for common colds and fevers, his body temperature slowly began to go back to normal.

Or so you thought.

The problem is that at some point, when his fever began to simmer down, he remembered the five bags of candy you two had bought the other day and began indulging himself in his sweets instead of sipping the miso soup you’d made for him.

So, his fever is back.

And here you two are, about three days later, with Ranpo currently suffering from a clogged nose and a terrible headache, not just because he was drenched and cold for too long and because you both didn’t have anything to dry him off with on the way back to the agency that day, but also because he refused to follow the doctor’s advice and ate too much sugar while avoiding all the soup and water you would bring him.

And now he has a very itchy sore throat to boot.

You sigh, handing him a cup of lukewarm water as he sniffles and scrunches his nose, looking away.

“Ranpo,” you chide, raising a brow. “Come on… your fever won’t die down if you don’t drink enough fluids. You keep refusing tea and soup because they’re too bitter for your taste, so water is your best option. Yosano-sensei said so, remember?”

He sticks his bottom lip out, pouting at you, and for a moment, you almost give in just because you pitied the red-and-stuffy-nosed detective sitting up on his bed.

“But I don’t like the aftertaste of the candy when I drink water!” he barks back. “And I already drank my medicine for today!”

You roll your eyes, but the gesture is followed by a small chuckle. It’s hard to stay impatient with him.

“Yes, but you need a lot of fluids and sleep so the medicine can work. Otherwise, you’ll be out of business for another week,” you explain, bringing the glass closer to his lips. “The agency wouldn’t be anything without their best detective, after all.”

“Their best detective?”

“…The world’s greatest detective.”

It takes him a few moments, but his pouty face is eventually replaced with a big grin and a laugh interrupted by a few coughs. As you rub his back comfortingly, the gesture soothing his coughing storm, he takes the glass from your hand and hums.

“Okay, fine… But only because the agency still needs me!”

A sigh of relief escapes your lips and you smile again, watching him chug the glass down before wiping his lips with his pajama sleeve. Much to his own comfort, the water did, in fact, help with his sore throat, its cooling nature soothing the itchiness irritated earlier by all the sweets he consumed in one sitting.

“See? That wasn’t so bad.”

Refusing to acknowledge that you were, yet again, right, he places the glass back down on the bedside table before grabbing at your wrist to try and pull you closer to him, shoving the blanket out of the way momentarily.

“Ranpo—?”

“Cuddle me,” he says, still trying to drag you onto the mattress. “You didn’t cuddle me on the train back home the other day, so I was all cold and ended up with a fever. The least you could do is to cuddle me now because I’m still all chilly.”

The sheets of his bed begin to rustle when he traps you in his arms, keeping you next to him like a cat with its favorite toy. Your struggle for some space doesn’t go unnoticed — he grins when he spots this, only engulfing you with the tightest embrace he can give and all the affection he has to offer. He doesn’t hesitate when he nuzzles your neck and curls up closer to you, your body heat helping him relax a little from the headache that came with his stuffy nose and high temperature, allowing him to feel a little more at peace with his current condition.

So, with a final grunt, you take the edge of the blanket and use it to cover yourselves as you turn to your side to let him bury his face in the crook of your neck a little more, your fingers threading through his hair. A nap for now would be good for him, you figure, and if your presence helps calm him down enough to lull him to sleep, then you’d gladly stay for hours on end on his bed with him like this.

But he doesn’t fully close his eyes — not yet. He grabs a tissue or two to blow his nose every now and then, dropping the crumpled trash onto the floor next to the bed (you make a mental note to clean up later), but he can’t seem to drift off to dreamland.

“Something on your mind?” you murmur into his hair, petting it fondly.

He lets out a deep sigh in response.

You’re the only person who can ever come close to reading his thoughts as he had allowed himself to open up enough to be vulnerable around you. Despite being able to catch up to him most of the time, there are still moments that are foggy enough to make you ponder about the thoughts whirring about in his head. So, you make it a point to communicate with him as much as possible and ask him whenever the situation needs to be addressed.

And he’s grateful for that. He may very well consider himself a better mind-reader than you, but to have someone care for him in such a way that they also want to know what’s going on in his head when the world often tends to alienate him for being him is a blessing in itself that, although he never mentions it aloud, he’ll cherish forever.

Ranpo opens his mouth.

“…You didn’t give me a good night kiss.”

You blink.

“What?”

“You always give me good night kisses before we go to bed,” he points out. “It’s part of our routine. You didn’t give me one yet, so I can’t sleep.”

It’s almost impossible to hold back the giggle creeping up your throat.

“Ranpo,” you call, stifling the little laughs between words, “I can’t do that right now. I might get sick if I kiss you. You’ll be passing your fever onto me.”

“But if I can’t go to sleep, then I won’t get any better, and I need you to give me a good night kiss to help me go to sleep.”

Damn him and his (childish) logic.

“…Okay.” Deciding to get this done and over with, you cup his cheek. “But only on the forehead, alright? I’m not risking getting your germs right now,” you jest.

Yet the moment you lean in closer, your lips ghosting the skin of his forehead, he tilts his head upward to allow his lips to meet with yours. Your eyes widen and you scrunch your nose a little when he releases a rather obnoxious mwah! after, and as soon as you pull away, you are faced with the cheekiest expression he can muster.

“Ranpo!”

He yawns as you scold his name, snuggling back into your arms again. “Good night, [Y/N]…”

That initial annoyance of yours quickly fades away and you can’t help but shake your head and smile as you cuddle him closer to keep him warm.

You can never stay mad at him no matter how many times fate (rather, the rain and all of his candy in this case) has to put him under your care. You love your detective too much, after all.

a/n: feel free to let me know how i did! this was also my first time writing for ranpo, so i hope i captured him well enough :’>

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Simon wakes with a hangover after a night out and decides he's gonna fuck Price about it. #GhostPriceWeek

Day Three: Blushing/Tea

cw: anal sex, kissing, blowjob, handjob, fingering. Britlish. ( @gomzdrawfr )

Simon slumped on the sofa and flicked the telly on. BBC One, Sunday Morning Live. He'd turn it over to something a bit less bright and breezy but he'd already dropped the clicker and it was a whole five inches from his hand.

The pint of water he'd sunk before collapsing into bed the night before deserved a VC for the futile battle it had fought against the sheer volume of alcohol in his bloodstream. A clean engagement, but in the end the enemy had been too strong. Not even a quick shower had lessened the thrum in his temples and the ache of bad sleep around his eyes.

There was nothing for it. He'd have to order Powerade from Ubereats. Unfortunately, his phone was currently M.I.A.

As Sean Fletcher introduced criminologist and fraud expert Dr Elisabeth Carter to discuss how gullible religious cranks were getting scammed out of their money, Simon heard life shuffle around in the ensuite attached to their bedroom. The bone-deep groan of pain, the sound of furious teeth brushing and running water, followed by the gargling and spit of Listerine against porcelain. Moments later, Price emerged into the living room with his head in his hand.

“Mornin’,” Simon rumbled, head lolling against the backseat of the sofa.

“Unfortunately…” Price replied, squinting in the light streaming through the balcony doors. “Sitrep.”

“‘Angin’ out my fockin’ arse.”

“Rog,” Price mumbled, shuffling over to the kitchenette. He hadn't bothered throwing a shirt on, his flannel pajamas sitting low on his hips, slippers trodden down at the back. “Where did MacTavish learn t’ drink like that…”

“S’national sport up there. Reckon they start ‘em young.” Simon watched Price fill the kettle and pull two mugs from the cupboard: one red, one blue. “I'll text ‘im later an’ tell him we went out for a 10k at 5am.” He slouched over the sofa to grab the remote and turned down the volume on the telly as the fake laughs of the presenters grated right through him.

Price wandered to the fridge after dishing out the tea bags and a generous amount of sugar, and lingered with the door open, milk in hand. “Was the filfy kebab really necessary? Yer fuckin’ insides must be rotten…”

“Don't recall you complainin’ when you were scoffin’ half of it in that bus shelter.”

Simon had offered to purchase two kebabs in the full knowledge that his would be raided the moment he unwrapped it, but Price had declined, because chips and doner meat tasted a hundred times better when it was pilfered from your boyfriend’s pita bread, while he struggled to perch on the tiny fuckin’ bus shelter bench and eat at the same time.

“Tha’ explains why I were breathin’ fire when I woke up.”

Simon heard the clang of the bin as his respectfully wrapped leftover kebab was relegated to landfill. “Brutal.”

“We’ll go out for a fry up down the road when my ‘ead stops spinnin’.” The kettle clicked and Simon heard the slosh of water as Price poured their brews.

“Could order in.”

“Don't be fuckin’ lazy. Fresh air’ll help.” Price carried the two mugs over to the sofa and Simon reached up to take the blue one as it was passed down.

“Yer bloody ‘eartless,” Simon said.

“Fink you'll find ‘m all ‘eart.” Price slumped onto the sofa and leaned into Simon's side, his eyes lidded. Simon took a few cursory sips of tea, his mouth like teflon after years of scoffing overcooked rat packs and over-boiled filter coffee, before placing the mug down on the coaster.

It was difficult to ignore the draw of Price's body when it was pressed so close, even through the haze of a hangover. Simon tilted his head into Price's ruffled hair and breathed him in. Despite spending a night on the lash, he still smelled fuckin’ delicious; faded cologne and deodorant, a sleep-warm musk beneath it all. Simon’s cock twitched with interest, enticed by the smell and heat of his partner, relaxed and half naked against him.

Simon slid his arm around Price's chest, fingers playing in the soft curls of his body hair before he cupped the swell of a tit and squeezed. The give of firm muscle beneath his palm made a lick of arousal curl through his gut, and Simon nuzzled Price’s head over a little to nibble at the shell of his ear.

“Gerroff,” Price huffed, putting up token resistance by nudging his elbow against Simon's ribs, but he didn't pull away. If anything, he reclined a little further over Simon's chest, sipping his tea once more before resting it on the sofa cushion, fingers hooked loosely in the handle.

They'd been too hammered to fuck last night. Sure, there had been some heavy grinding when they'd stumbled through the door, some sloppy, heated snogging, but the moment they had stripped off and fallen into bed, they had passed out in a heap of tangled limbs. A lazy Sunday 'morning after' was the perfect time to make up for it.

Simon stroked Price's happy trail and slipped his hand into the loose waistband of his pajamas without preamble, inviting himself to Price's prick as his eyes wandered back to the telly. His touch was gentle, lazy, caressing the soft length with his fingertips until it began to chub up. He stroked back and forth over the ridge of Price's crown through his foreskin as it slowly drew back, enjoying the muted sighs of enjoyment as much as the velvet softness and warmth against his palm.

“Yer plannin’ t’ do anythin' with that or yer jus’ gonna give me blue balls?”

“Depends, ya gonna drag me into public with a hangover or ya gonna let me order in?”

“You cruel little shit,” Price murmured without heat, lifting his hips to rub his cock against the heel of Simon's palm.

“What’ll it be? Deal or no deal?”

“Noel Edmonds is a fuckin’ turn off…”

“Stephen Mulhern now.”

“That cockney twat ain't much better–fuck, Simon, c���mon, la… do it proper, like.”

“Still waitin’ for the decision.”

“Fine, fine… MaccyD’s kitchen round the corner ain't bad–haa, ah, mmm.”

Simon stroked firmly from base to tip, squeezing on the upwards tug around the glans. Price bucked into his palm, precum wetting the fleece of his pajamas as Simon worked him over. Simon felt his body warm through the cotton of his shirt, and pressed a kiss into his hair as his own cock pushed his shorts into a tent.

“You make me so fuckin ‘ard,” Simon growled into Price's hair. “Jus’ the bloody smell of ya drives me mental.”

“Yeah? Show me, Simon. Show me what ya want…”

Simon trailed his hand down until Price's balls sat in the cradle of his palm and two fingers were teasing the rim of his hole. Price didn't push him away, but spread his legs with a low, wanton moan, his hips rolling up to grind the wet head of his cock against Simon's wrist.

A slow Sunday morning fuck now well and truly on the cards, Simon needed to prep. He pulled his hand away reluctantly and leaned over to grope through the clutter in the drawer of the lamp table. They had fucked on this sofa so often that Price had dumped a tube of durex water-based amongst the allen keys and miscellaneous house debris.

When Simon slumped back with his prize in hand, Price had rolled onto his front and was shoving at Simon's shorts with an impatient growl. Simon lifted his arse magnanimously, his hard cock flopping free against his thighs as Price pushed his waistband past his knees, pressing his nose against Simon's shaft. “Heard receivin’ a blowie after the giver’s drunk tea feels good,” Price said, licking a thick vein bulging from ruddy, hard flesh.

“Fancy testin’ that?”

Price smirked and leaned to the side just enough to knock back the rest of his brew before he returned to Simon's cock. He gripped the base, drawing the tip of his tongue through Simon's slit to savour the first beads of precum, before swallowing him down with a deep, longing moan.

“Oh, fuck…” Simon lifted his hips into the tingling heat of Price's mouth, his head falling back with the rush of pleasure through his hips and up his spine. Yeah, there was mileage in the tea thing. His hand pushed into that soft, ruffled hair only for an anchor as Price hollowed his cheeks and swirled his tongue, head bobbing slowly as he drooled and moaned around Simon's cock, his mouth stretched almost beyond capacity.

If someone had said a few years ago that Captain John Price was a champion cocksucker, Simon would have knocked them the fuck out for the slur. Now he knew it would have been an accurate evaluation of his skillset. The fuckin’ mouth on him. And with the added flush of the tea, Simon's bare toes curled against the floor in pure ecstasy.

When the initial shock eased into a more constant swell of pleasure and Simon's stomach unbunched, Simon could concentrate enough to slick his fingers and slip them between Price's arse cheeks. He circled his rim in firm, smooth passes, teasing him into relaxing. He felt the sweet vibration of Price's moan as he slid his first finger in, Price’s legs spreading until one knee dropped off the edge of the sofa, back curved to give Simon better access once he'd wriggled out of his flannel trousers.

Simon tilted his head back and closed his eyes, luxuriating in the filthy, wet sounds of saliva and lube, the suction of Price's clever mouth punctuated by the rumbles of guttural moans as he was fingered open, the weathered hand that cupped and tugged Simon's sac was warm and firm, enjoying the promising heft that would soon empty deep inside him.

There was another reason other than convenience that Simon enjoyed fucking Price here. It was the living room mirror on the opposite wall. Tall and narrow, intended for a last minute check of teeth and hair before they stepped out the door. Maybe Simon had purposefully hung it at the perfect angle to reflect their athletics on the sofa, but if he had, that was between him and god.

Either way, since it's arrival he'd got to watch Price's back flex, sheened with sweat, as he ground himself down on Simon's cock, and watched his face as he was fucked from behind over the coffee table, even admired himself working on top as he'd pushed Price’s head down and pounded into him until he'd come screaming and begging, muffled by the sofa cushions. There was something about the sight of them together, of Price taking his cock and loving every second, that set Simon on fire.

“C’mon, up ‘ere.” Simon tugged at Price’s chin until he pulled off his cock with a soft pop. “Reverse, lean back.”

“Givin’ orders now…”

Simon smirked, holding Price’s hips to help him balance as he straddled Simon's lap, dropping one hand to smear a little lube on his cock and grip it at the base to hold it steady. He got to watch as Price’s body swallowed him, slick hole stretching wide to take every fuckin’ inch until Price was seated almost to the hilt. Simon's hands slid over his hips and pulled him down into his first thrust, forcing a choked noise from Price’s throat. Simon pressed a kiss in the middle of Price's freckled back and murmured into his skin. “Oh, fuck yeah, you're so fuckin’ ready for me, you wan’ed this so bad, didn'tcha?”

“Yeah, Simon… oh, oh, mm, yeah, your fuckin cock…”

“C’mere.” Simon pulled Price’s back against his chest and tilted his chin for a deep, wet kiss, their tongues working over each other as Simon slid his hands beneath Price’s thighs to lift them up and apart, forcing Price to relax back and let himself be fucked. Simon dragged his cock in and out slowly, savouring the long, drawn out pleasure of each thrust, always leaving the tip inside and sinking in almost to the base.

Price moaned and gasped, trying to hold the kiss at first, but soon having to flop his head back as Simon began to thrust faster. At this angle, with the wicked curve in Simon's cock, he was dragging over Price's prostate with every roll of his hips.

“Haa, ah, Simon, yeah, yeah, fuck, yeah, so fuckin’ good.”

Simon could just about see over Price’s shoulder in this position, those few inches of height in the torso coming up trumps in providing the perfect view of the most beautiful fuckin’ sight in the world; John Price being split open on his fat dick. His muscular thighs spread wide, secured by Simon's hands into yielding, his hole sucking greedily at Simon's cock, his face, neck and chest blushing and his cock flopping and drooling against his belly.

“Look at ya, look--ahh, look at yaself in the mirror, John… mm, fuck, look ya takin me.”

Price did look and Simon got to watch those blue eyes widen as he saw his own pretty little hole swallowing Simon's thick cock, watch it bully him open with each thrust and leave him empty every time it drew back. Price moaned, low and broken, one arm curled behind Simon's head while the other sloped down his body so he could jerk his own prick in rough, messy tugs.

“Gonna come--fuck, nn--so deep in ya, John… want me leakin’ out of ya for days.”

”Simon!”

“Feelin’ me inside ya, ahh, as you bark orders.”

“Haa, ah, fuck, fuck!’

Even with the distant echo of his hangover, the pleasure of fucking into the snug heat of Price’s body and listening to him fall apart was overwhelming. Simon sunk a little lower to brace his elbows for a harder fuck, and felt the throb of Price’s climax in the clench and flutter of his arse. Price arched, his legs pushing out against Simon's hands, testing his strength, as he continued his relentless pace even as Price painted his own belly with milky white.

The wrecked sounds each thrust forced from Price's overstimulated body were enough for Simon to follow him over the edge. Two big hands slanted over his hips to pull him down and Simon thrust up, coming as deep as he could. Price moaned, leaning forward a little so his thighs could spread side over Simon's lap. “Oh, fuck, Simon, tha’s fuckin ‘ot… ya filthy git.”

Simon knew Price loved being fucked full; the spread of warmth as Simon's balls emptied inside him, the way he'd feel it leak out of his stretched hole when Simon pulled out, evidence he'd been thoroughly bred.

Simon ground up, biting his lower lip as his thumbs pushed into the muscle of Price’s arse. He didn't want to pull out. He wanted to stay in what was his forever, but as the euphoria abated and his cock softened, he decided he'd rather spoon his fucked out partner and order a fuckin' Big Mac. Gently, he eased Price off, snagging some Kleenex from the coffee table to clean up before he half draped himself over Price's back.

They cuddled in the afterglow, too big to spoon on the sofa really, Price's leg hanging off and Simon's knuckles dragging on the floor, but both were too interested in exchanging lazy kisses to care. At some point, Simon found his phone and punched in their order and Price began to doze.

Once they'd eaten, Simon would decide just how many times he was going to make Price come before they had to turn in for work on Monday. Double figures seemed a reasonable goal.

[blondechariot]

🌶️Hot Sauce and Heart Eyes🌶️ (Festival!Mingyu)

pairing: Kim Mingyu x reader

Summary: At a crowded summer festival, Mingyu runs into a sharp-tongued street food vendor who has zero time for idols and even less patience. He keeps coming back—for the food, obviously. Definitely not for the way she rolls her eyes when he flirts. Probably.

Part 2

You’re six minutes into your “I hate my life” internal monologue when the next customer steps up to your stand. Your shoulders ache, your fingers are greasy, and someone spilled a drink on your shoes earlier. And the festival has only just begun.

“Next!” you shout over the noise, poking around in the pan with your tongs. “Menu’s on the left, no extras, no refunds, and if you ask for ‘extra spicy,’ that’s your problem, not mine.”

No response.

You frown and look up. The guy in front of you is wearing a dark shirt, messy hair, and… one hell of a cocky smile.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m impressed,” he says. His voice is deep, slightly rough, and way too charming. “The last person who talked to me like that was my grandma. And even she never promised me food this good.”

“I guess your grandma didn’t have a sick coworker and a massive line waiting on her,” you throw over your shoulder, hoping the young man will finally decide and order.

“That part’s true,” he replies with a chuckle while scanning the menu. “But my sister and I could be pretty impatient too.”

“Interesting names,” he adds.

“All mine,” you reply, giving him a look. “Got something to complain about?”

“I can’t decide between the Hot Mess and the Wrap Battle,” he says thoughtfully, crossing his arms over his chest.

You flash a quick grin while your coworker smirks and watches you from the side. You turn fully toward him now, leaning on the counter.

“So what does the head chef recommend?” he asks, looking up at you.

You tilt your head and glance at the long line behind him.

“Well, I don’t know. Regulars swear by the Hot Mess… but it’s seriously spicy,” you say with a devilish smile.

“Just how I like it,” he confirms with a wink.

You raise your brows in surprise. “One Hot Mess coming right up,” you say, satisfied.

As you turn toward the fryer, your coworker nudges you in the side with a knowing smile. “He’s cute—try not to kill him.”

You just laugh softly and shake your head. “I’m only giving him what he asked for.”

You say that and start frying up some bacon and onions in a pan while the fries sizzle away in the deep fryer. You add a bit of salt, a pinch of sugar, and a splash of balsamic vinegar. When the timer goes off, you pull the fries out and dump them into a serving tray.

You reach for one of the sauce bottles—your own creation: a mix of mayo, sriracha, lime juice, and a little honey. You give the fries a generous drizzle, top them with the crispy bacon and caramelized onions, and finish it all off with a handful of chopped jalapeños.

“One Hot Mess,” you say proudly, presenting the tray to him.

He inhales sharply and hands you a twenty-dollar bill.

“Keep the change,” he says when you try to give him his change back.

“Enjoy,” you tell him, already knowing how this is going to go.

You keep an eye on him from the corner of your vision as you serve the next round of guests. He handles the first few bites like a champ, nodding with approval. But as he makes it past the top layer, you notice him clearing his throat, shifting a little more in his seat.

You can’t help but smile when his ears start turning red and he wipes his mouth with the napkin. He coughs a few times but doesn’t stop. You have to admit—his commitment is kind of impressive.

The first wave of customers dies down and the music from the main stage kicks off as things calm around you. You take the chance to bring the trash over to one of the big dumpsters.

When you return, he’s still on the bench, still eating.

You hide your grin and walk over. “So? How’s it taste?” you ask, hands on your hips.

He looks up at you, his nose and the corners of his mouth bright red.

“Delicious,” he rasps, then clears his throat.

“I love spicy food,” he adds, his voice stronger now.

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head in disbelief as you start to head back to the truck.

“Do you have a name?” he suddenly calls after you.

You glance at him, surprised. “Why do you want to know?”

“In case this ends up being my last meal, I think my family and friends deserve to know who’s responsible,” he says with a grin and extends his hand. “I’m Mingyu.”

You hesitate for a second, then shake his hand.

“Shouldn’t have talked so big, Mingyu,” you say with a shrug.

“I didn’t know you moonlight as an assassin,” he laughs, though his tray is now empty. He exhales in relief and wipes his mouth again.

He looks up at you. “So, what’s your name?”

“I’ve got work to do,” you reply with a polite smile and turn back toward the truck.

“Oh, come on!” he calls after you—but he’s smiling wide as he watches you walk away.

Day 2

The next day, your back hurts worse than any hangover—and that’s saying something. You barely slept, your hair’s in a messy bun that’s more mess than bun, and you’re seriously wondering if it’s possible to grill with your eyes closed.

The sun’s brutal. The line is growing. And you hate everything—

until you see him again.

Mingyu.

Again.

Same hoodie, same cocky energy—except this time, no entourage. No team. No cameras. Just him, a Coke in hand and a smile like he’s been looking for you all day.

“You’re back,” you say without looking up, tossing onions into the pan.

“And you remember me. I’m flattered.”

“And you want to eat here again?” you ask, incredulous, remembering how red his face was yesterday.

“Something about the food here got me hooked,” he admits with a charming smile.

You smirk and nod. “What’ll it be?”

“I think I’ll try the Mini Heartbreak—since that’s what I’ll be if I still don’t get your name,” he says with a wink.

You laugh out loud and glance at him over your shoulder. “Does that usually work? The charming lines?”

“Usually, yeah,” he replies with a shrug.

You laugh again and shake your head in disbelief. “Don’t you have anything better to do than stuffing your face with my overpriced food?” you ask curiously.

“Well first of all, I appreciate that you admit your food’s overpriced. And second, yes—but I’ve got my priorities,” he explains.

You don’t comment, but your smile gives you away.

Instead, you get started on his order—and once again, he gives you way too much tip before sitting down to eat.

Day 3

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you laugh as his face pops up in front of your truck the next day.

“Today it’s gonna be the Grilled and Committed—hoping you catch the hint,” he says proudly.

“I seriously can’t with you anymore,” you reply, shaking your head in disbelief but smiling as you toss your towel over your shoulder and start making his food—again.

Since it’s still early and the crowd is spread out nicely across the grounds, you take the liberty of sitting down with him.

“I think this one’s my favorite,” he mumbles, biting into the grilled cheese loaded with three types of cheese and fresh tomatoes.

You smile and shake your head. “You do realize you’ve spent sixty bucks at a food truck in the past three days, right?” you ask, genuinely surprised.

He shrugs and licks some cheese off his finger. “Worth it.”

You chuckle and rest your chin in your hand. “So, where does one usually find you when you’re not haunting the food court?” you ask, glancing around.

“Here and there. I’m pretty versatile,” he says casually.

He answers shortly, “What about you? Do you have to work the whole festival, or do you get to actually see something?”

“I’m off tonight and tomorrow night,” you say. “Haven’t really had the chance to enjoy any of the music yet.”

He frowns. “You’re working a festival but can’t experience the music? That sounds like a crime against humanity.”

You shrug. “That’s how it is when you work. You know that feeling too, don’t you?” you ask carefully.

Before he can respond, you hear giggling and a few excited voices. You turn around to see three girls standing behind you, waving enthusiastically in your direction. Mingyu smiles and waves back as they walk off.

You turn back to him, confused. “Okay…?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He takes a sip of his soda and shrugs. “I make music,” he says casually.

You blink. “Here? Wait—are you, like… a celebrity or something?” you ask, stunned.

He just grins and nods toward a nearby poster wall. You follow his gaze and spot a big poster.

“Seventeen,” you say under your breath—and to your surprise, you spot him on it with a group of other guys.

„Are you shitting me?“

He gives you a wide smile. “Should I have mentioned it?”

“Uh, yeah?!”

“Would I have gotten a discount?”

“No—but I wouldn’t have made your food so spicy. Gotta protect that voice,” you say, flustered.

He chuckles. “So you think it’s rude to hide important information?” He raises an eyebrow. “Like, say… your name?”

You roll your eyes but nod. “Alright, fine. You win. Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeats, as if he’d imagined it being something else.

“What kind of music do you guys do?” you ask, curious now.

He wipes his mouth with a napkin, then rolls it between his hands. “Come find out.”

“You want me to come to your show?”

“Why not? You wanted to check out some music anyway. And it’s better if you see it live than me trying to explain it.”

Seeing your skeptical expression, he tilts his head. “I’ll even advertise your food truck.”

You laugh out loud. “Not that I need it. But let’s say I do make time for a band—”

“Group,” he corrects you with a wink.

“Group,” you repeat mockingly, pulling a face. “Let’s say I make time for a group I don’t even know—where do I go?”

He nods and pulls a small pen from his jacket pocket.

“Here, just show up here. From there you’ll see everything, and I’ll come find you after the show,” he says while scribbling a location onto your wrist.

“I’d take you backstage, but I just got your name and barely know you,” he adds sarcastically, slipping the pen back into his pocket.

“You have my word—if I see you standing there tonight, I’ll shout out your food truck on stage. You’ll have a line around the block,” he promises as he gets up from the bench.

You stare at him in disbelief but nod. “We’ll see about that,” you say cheekily.

“Oh, we will!” he calls over his shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

[flevsiel]

The Batter headcanons!!!

I'm dumping EVERYTHING I got on y'alls foreheads so get ready

(includes doodles that I'm only half proud of 🫠)

General:

Batter isn't familiar with being vulnerable, so his first time ever crying infront of someone would probably depend on how heavy his emotions are, & how much he trusts the person (so he'll either let it all out or be hesitant)

His smile tends to look stiff & forced, almost creepy

which brings me to my next: uncanny teeth!! I love the idea that his teeth are unusually straight & a little longer than natural (also stronger) because it'd only make sense considering he eats raw meat! Also it makes a genuine smile look stiff anyways

He likes to hum to himself & I also like the concept that he can beatbox (yes I stole this from the old soft breeze comment section)

probably wouldn't be the best pet owner (Mortis said so himself) & doesn't have much fatherly instincts

this man cannot STAND to see his add-ons hurting or dead - even though he knows he can revive them, he's aware they can feel pain & doesn't want them to be hurting

Romance <3

considering he's probably never told anyone “I love you” before, he'd be one to say it as often as he remembers to & wants to hear it from you as well

in terms of affection, he's shy about asking for kisses & sometimes hugs from behind (that way you can't see how awkward he feels or if he's blushing). He also may like to keep a hand on you when sleeping

his kisses tend to be quick & tight (especially pecks on the cheek)

tentative hand-holding!! he only holds ur hand in large crowds or if he's at risk of losing you, otherwise he links your pinkies or interlaces your fingers together

he doesn’t act that much different when in love, but he does try to smile & laugh more for you (along with affection & all that)

I don't know if he'd have one specific love language, but I think acts of service would be a more common form for him. Think about it - he's a man of little words, so WOA is already knocked out. He's not very touchy despite trying for the sake of romance in general, so no PT. Quality time & receiving gifts just don't stand out too much for me to consider extremely consistent, but they're still there. You've been with him through his mission so it's obvious he likes you by his side, & as for gifts.. he'd greatly appreciate something he didn’t have to fork over credits for.

in terms of dates, he'd either prefer a dinner/cozy night in at home, or going somewhere quiet (night on the beach, a lonely lake)

his ‘type’ isn't very specific, but I'd say either someone whose personality has a big energy (my only ‘comparison’ is Zacharie lmao) or someone just as shy & awkward as he is in this relationship so he doesn’t feel so alone

this man will absolutely short circuit if you call him handsome/cute/hot/hunky/etc.

bonus trivia

his go-to photo pose is just a thumbs up (gives off the energy of a dad's “ok 👍🏽”)

he either meditates before bed & sleeps in a ‘coffin’ pose, or meditates & proceeds to snore like a buzzsaw

nervous behavior is just sweaty palms or playing with his fingers (or the fingers of whoever's next to him)

his blush reaches the tips of his ears

I'm very proud of this btw

I feel like he'd get a really bad sugar high on slushies, sodas, or energy drinks

bro has NO sense of table manners (& hardly ever uses utensils)

he makes hand hearts like this:

by namaqun

aaaand I think that's all I have for now! some of these ideas were from the perspective that batter is living on earth & not the zones btw. ty 4 reading <3

[whambamsami]

snowed in pt. 2

pt. 1 pt. 3

summary: after a brutal breakup, all you want is a snowy escape in the mountains. what you get is a cabin that's very much occupied, a dangerously attractive roommate, and no exit strategy. you plan to avoid the situation by visiting the town center. often.

such a shame the weather has other ideas.

warnings: 18+, swearing, alcohol, eventual smut!

note: i literally broke up w my long term boyfriend today and i just stole our argument for our main gal so this will probably develop into something extremely self-indulgent LMAO

“What kind of Hallmark bullshit is this?”

“I know!”, you mutter, phone wedged between your cheek and your shoulder as you sort through what’s left of the produce section.

The local grocery store was practically ransacked, presumably by people who were much more prepared than you were, stockpiling for the storm that inched closer by the second. You’d planned to make a little charcuterie board for yourself. Have some marmalade, maybe, or a fresh baguette. But after a quick glimpse into the cupboards of the kitchen (‘fully stocked’, Lisa had said), it was a safe bet that you’d be handling the food on your own.

Plus, now you were cooking for two.

Something told you that he would have quite the appetite.

So you grabbed some potatoes, vegetables, ingredients to make soup, and enough meat to feed an army, hoping that would be enough. 

“Is he hot?” your sister pries.

“Of course he’s hot. Because someone up there,” you jut your chin toward the sky, not caring that she can’t see you at the moment, “has it out for me. I mean I just got out of a relationship, I ran away to the mountains in an attempt to avoid anything with a penis, and boom. Man with penis. In my house.”

Your sister didn’t laugh. Kate always knows when you’re deflecting. It drives you crazy.

“Speaking of…”

You roll your eyes, grabbing some sugar and butter and tossing it into your overflowing basket.

“Speaking of what, Kate?” you dare her.

“Has Connor called?”

Great. The breakup check-in.

“No, he hasn’t. Oh, unless you count the 17 calls from today. Or the 31 from yesterday.”

“Jesus.”

“I know. You’d think he’d get the hint by now.”

“Is that why you escaped to the only place in America without cell service?”

You chuckled to yourself, feet taking you to the liquor section like your body knew you needed it more than your mind did, and you stop by the beer. Maybe Bucky would like some. 

“Maybe.”

By the time you pull up back to the cabin, the snow had noticeably picked up. Still soft, but steadier now. You squint up at the sky, slamming the truck door behind you, gathering the plastic bags in your arms. The wind catches your hair as you tromp toward the porch.

I didn’t buy the beer just for him, you muse as you start to put the perishables in the fridge, I bought it because I’m going through a breakup and I’d like to get drunk. And I’m generous, so I got us something we could share. Or- whatever, this is Vermont, people drink beer here-

You’re halfway to the bottom of your first bag when something moves. 

You freeze.

Slowly, a white ball unfurls itself on the couch.

A cat. A massive, fluffy, purely white cat. Almost regal. Like you’re interrupting something. 

“Oh.” you breathe, “Hi.”

The cat blinks, long and slow. 

“You must be the owners’, hmm?  Another surprise roommate for me?” 

It flicks its tail. Hops down from the couch and pads into the kitchen like it lives here. Which, you suppose, it does. 

It stops at your feet, looking up at you. Almost expectantly.

You toss down a piece of turkey from your sandwich stash.

The cat sniffs. Then eats.

“Great. At least one of you likes me.”

When you pull the six-pack out of the next bag, you glance down to the cat sheepishly.

“What? They’re not just for him,” you mutter, as if the cat asked, “Just… cabin etiquette.”

You had just finished putting away the groceries in silence, cat curled at your feet, when the door creaked open, cold wind swirling.

Bucky was standing just inside the door, nudging it closed behind him with his boot. His eyes darted between you and the ball of fur that was rubbing affectionately against your ankle. 

“I see you girls have met.”

You huff, and turn to face him. You do not acknowledge the beer you’d carefully lined up next to the fridge.

“Oh, a girl, is she?”

Thank god. This cabin could use a little feminine energy.

He grunts, but you can see he’s trying not to smile. Like he’s proud of her.

“Yep. Alpine. The lady of the house.”

You reach down to scratch under her chin.

“Alpine, huh? Did Lisa name you that?”

“Actually, I did.”

Huh.

Didn’t peg him for a cat guy.

“Did you go grocery shopping?” he asks, nodding toward the empty bags that were still on the counter. 

“Oh, yeah, I did. All you had in the pantry was some old pasta and these weird freeze-dried meat sticks.”

“Survival foods.”

“For who? Astronauts?”

“For me,” he says dryly, grabbing one of the meat sticks and biting into it like he’s proving a point, “They don’t go bad.”

You snort, busying yourself by pulling the beers out of the cardboard, storing them in the fridge.

“I got these,” you say a little too quickly, “for, you know. Cabin… ambiance.”

You hear the scuff of his boots against the wood floor. Then nothing.

Curious silence. 

You close the fridge and glance over your shoulder. 

He’s lifting the beer, inspecting it. Turns it over in his hand. 

“Didn’t take you for the dark beer type.”

“I’m not. I panicked. The label had trees on it.”

He huffs, not quite a laugh.

“Good instinct.”

“Plus, I figured if we get stuck together for too long, we can drink ourselves to death.”

That got you a full chuckle. Rumbling. 

It was nice. 

An hour later, the fire’s still going, and dinner is actually coming together. 

You’ve taken over the kitchen, settling on an old sou[ recipe you used to have as a kid. You figured carbs and nostalgia were a safe bet on a night like tonight. 

You glance over at Bucky, who’s hunched over a cutting board, dicing up a clove of garlic, slow and far too focused for how simple the task was. 

Stirring the pot on the stove, your foot taps to the faint sound of jazz he’s playing from a record player in the corner of the living room. The silence isn’t awkward. It’s easy. Comfortable.

“I thought you’d be better with that knife. Aren’t you supposed to be handy?”

“You’re lucky I’m helping at all.”

“Fine, suit yourself. I’m sure there’s plenty of doomsday meat left in the cabinet. If you think I can’t eat all this soup by myself, you’re mistaken.”

“...Fine.”

You toss a pinch of salt into the pot and flick the burner down to low, letting the aroma of garlic and butter fill the cabin.

“It smells good,” he grunts.

“I know.”

You grab bowls and move to the small wooden table of the dining room, making sure to nudge your chair a bit further away from Bucky’s before he could take a seat. 

“You don’t cook much, then?” 

“Not much, no. It’s only me and Alpine, anyways,” as he pulls out the chair that seems much too small for his body.

You hum.

“Sounds a bit lonely.”

You slide the bowl in front of him. His fingers brush yours, briefly. You both pretend not to notice.

“That why you adopted her?” you ask. “Alpine?”

He shrugs, spoon in hand.

“She found me. I was fixing up a cabin up north a couple years ago and she just… showed up. Kept showing up. Eventually started sleeping in my bed.”

“That sounds like the dream relationship.”

That earns a real laugh from him. Deep and low. His shoulders relax a little as he blows on his spoon and takes a sip.

“Okay,” he admits, “This is actually really good.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” you tease.

“I’m just saying… if you ever get tired of the city, I’ve got an opening for full-time live-in chef.”

“Oh, wow. A job offer and a place to sleep. Do I get health insurance?”

“I can see about dental?”

The candle in the center of the table flickers between you, soup warming your chest.

But the way he’s looking at you now, softer than before, is what’s really making your cheeks flush.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” you say, tilting your head to the left.

“Why did you come here?”, he continued, “I mean, you seem social. Sweet. You’re a good cook. Why aren’t you with family, friends? A boyfriend?”

That makes you pause a bit.

“You really want to know?”

He nods. 

“Breakup,” you admit, “an ugly one. Three years.”

You stir your soup slowly as you continue.

“Thought we were spending the holidays together. But we got into a fight. He said some… not nice things. Broke up.”

“So you ran to the woods?”

“So I ran to the woods.”

He grins. Surprising you a bit.

“That explains why you were so excited to have a random man as your roommate, then,” he joked.

You roll your eyes, but the smile sneaks out anyway.

“Yup. Dream scenario.”

Your eyes flick to his, and the smile lingers a second too long. His, too.

Then you set your spoon down. 

“Truth is... I didn’t really have a plan. I just needed to get away. I kept picturing this... cabin in the snow. Quiet. No expectations. Just me.”

He leans back in his chair a bit The candlelight softens the hard lines of his face, the permanent set of his jaw.

“Three years is a long time,” he says quietly. Not pitying. Just... recognizing.

You nod. 

“Yeah. It was. We were always a little off, truthfully. Wanted different things, saw the world differently. I brought up some concerns I had-fears, really. About how we’d never fully meet in the middle.”

You laugh a little, bitter at the edges.

“He didn’t like that. Said I was disgusting. Disrespectful. Disobedient.”

The last word comes out smaller than the rest. Sharper, somehow.

There’s a beat of stillness.

Bucky doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t lean in or say the wrong thing.

He just exhales slowly, setting his bottle down with a quiet clink.

“That’s not a word you use with someone you love.”

You glance up. He’s watching you Not with pity. With something steadier. Sadder.

And a little angry on your behalf.

“He liked control,” you say quietly. “And I got tired of being polite about shrinking myself to make room for it.”

“So you ran to the woods.”

“So I ran to the woods,” you echo, smiling softly this time. A little more tired. A little more free.

Bucky watches you for a second longer, then leans forward, elbows on the table.

“For what it’s worth… this version of you?” He gestures to the kitchen, to the table, to the space between you,  “She fits just fine.”

You don’t know what to make of how he’s looking at you now. Like maybe you’re starting to make sense to him.

The silence lasts a second longer than it should before you’re forcing a smile and leaning back in your chair.

“Well, now I definitely need a beer.”

“Alright,” he chuckles, already rising from his seat and heading toward the fridge, “I’ll make myself useful.”

He tosses you a beer, clinking his against yours like a peace treaty. 

Then, after a quiet beat, he sets his bottle down, without taking his first sip.

“You didn’t deserve that,” his voice lower than before, “What he said.”

You blink. 

“Thanks,” you manage, “I think I just didn’t want to feel so… insignificant all the time.”

He nods. Doesn’t look away.

“You don’t seem insignificant to me.”

And it’s quiet again. 

But the air feels thicker. 

“Careful,” you joke, desperate to deflect, “any more compliments and I might start to think you actually like having me here.”

“Might,” he says, corners of his mouth twitching, “but where’s the fun in admitting it?”

Your heart skips a beat.

You take a sip of your beer. 

It tastes terrible. But you need it. 

Mostly to try to hide your smile.

He sees it anyway. 

@cherryandsugar <3

[phasecornnuts]

Hiiiiiiii! If you’re still open for requests maybe you might wanna write something where the reader casually mentioned that they/she had a partner on earth before they died and Alastor takes it a bit too drastically and has just been very salty and asking too many questions 😭 if you like that

Please & thanks ❤️

Hey guys I've returned! Sorry for taking a little while, I was busy with finals/I wanted to relax on my spring break so I didn't have a lot of time. I lowkey kind of cooked with this one too so enjoy :3

Also, I sorta made the reader be from around the same time period as Alastor (sorta late 1910s early 1930s) for extra spice

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had become a daily routine for you and Alastor to have afternoon tea together in cannibal town. Always, between the hours and four and six o’ clock after Alastor had finished his broadcast and you, your hotel duties, the both of you would walk down to Rosie’s Emporium to nibble on finger sandwiches, candied eyeballs, and other treats. 

The sun was still high in the sky, sending fingers of light through the windows of the cafe; the building was alive with the chatter of demons and hell-born alike. You and Alastor had just sat down, a short cannibal girl with a heart-shaped face and glowing brown ringlets placing your usuals on the table. Oh how beautiful they were! Too pretty to eat, garnished with tiny sprigs of mint (or, at least, it may have been mint) and resting on plates of delicate porcelain. With polished silver beside them, and matching teacups and saucers too, it all looked like a party for a girl’s favorite doll.

That is, if it weren’t human meat. 

Looking up from your plate, you saw Alastor turn his head to follow the cannibal girl making you frown. His gaze returned to you before he caught you staring, a chipper grin on his face as always.

“She could be a dead ringer for Mary Pickford, don’t you think?”

Your eyebrows perked. You hadn’t looked long at the girl admittedly, though you stared long enough to know that she was no Pickford. You pursed your lips,

“I don’t see it, Lillian Gish maybe.”

He looked at you like a mad-woman, “You don’t!?”

“No! Her eyes are much too large!”

Alastor chuffed, proceeding to rest his chin on his dark hand, “In the eye of the beholder I suppose.” 

You rolled your eyes, “You only say that because of her curls,” you stated while picking up the teapot and pouring yourself and Alastor your cups, “Now, drink before it gets cold.”

For much of your lunch neither of you spoke, merely enjoying each other’s presence while pecking on some food here and there. Throughout the meal the waitress brought more plates, pancreas tarts, minced tongues coated with cinnamon sugar, and sweet pies filled with rotted venison and cooked kidneys, all Rosie’s treat. Alastor had been taken by the small pies in their mulled deliciousness, the meat so tender you saw his eyes water. He pleaded you to try one, though you couldn’t, your stomach filled to the brim from the other treats and delicacies. 

Alastor picked up the small pair of silver tongs from beside him and placed two sugar cubes in his tea, “I do say, it’s nice to have a meal companion again.” He took a sip from his teacup and grinned. 

You nodded in agreement, lifting the milk jug from the table and pouring a generous amount into your cup. “Likewise. Good dinner conversation is a horrid thing to lose.”

“Truly.” He took another drink. “Before you, I hadn’t had a proper luncheon since my mother.”

“From what you tell she sounded like a fine woman.” His grin lost its eeriness, becoming fond instead. 

“She truly was, and such a fine cook too.” Alastor gazed at the fine pattern painted on the rim of his saucer, “her jambalaya was the best, our side of the Mississippi” he chuckled. He began to remember then, “And her gumbo and her crawfish etouffee and her pecan pralines”

It was odd to hear his voice so full of affection, but nice too. So strange, to think a man who broadcasted his murders of other overlords and feasted on their flesh was once a little boy who clung to his mothers skirt and happily ate her cooking. 

“Maybe one day you’ll cook for me then?” you teased

“Oh why wouldn’t I for my favoritest of sinners?” He took your hand.

You leaned in towards him, a silent flirtation. “Or perhaps I could prepare something for you?”

He looked at you from his dark, hooded eyes, a certain intrigue radiating from them. “Would you now?” he said, leaning in closer. 

“Oh I would, anything you’d like.” the tip of your oxford lingering at his ankle. “My food was good enough for my darling back on earth, why would an overlord of hell have any complaints? Other than not enough seasoning I suppose.” 

That was when the laughter in his eyes died. Alastor bit the inside of his cheek before finding the words to speak, “Your darling?”

 “Pardon?”

“You had someone,” He straightened up, pulling himself away from you, “back on earth?”

“I hardly see how it matters now.” 

Alastor’s tone grew curt, had such a simple word bruised his ego? 

He crossed his arms, “What were they like?” each word as sharp as his teeth.

You pulled your hands close to you, confused at his curtness, “They were….they were nice. Cordial, spirited, vivacious, however you would put it. If you’re-” Alastor cut you off. 

“How did you meet them?”

“On the trolley.” That only served to make him scoff.

“Tch, how common. The trolley.”

You chewed your bottom lip, trying to deny the anger towards him that began to knot in your belly. “It was a different lifetime.” You asserted, a hard finality to it. Pushing yourself from the small table you smoothed your skirt and adjusted the ribbon that was tied so nicely in your hair. 

Without looking at him you said, “Tell Rosie I’m grateful for her hospitality and I will try to find a way to repay her. Also that I’m sorry that I had to retire without saying hello but I feel rather…faint.” Before leaving completely you said, “See you back at the hotel.”

The rest of the day you hid in your room, sulking and pacing. Charlie had tried to coax you out, seeing how angry you’d been when you came back, but you denied every effort she had. 

“It’s not good to stay cooped up in there,” the Princess pleaded.

“I like my alone time.”

 “But- but I had games planned! Husk was going to show us how to play Blackjack and Dominoes!”

“I prefer bridge, and he’ll just cheat us anyways.”

She gave a disappointed sigh, and outside the door you could hear Vaggie talking to her, telling Charlie to give you your space. 

For three nights straight you avoided Alastor, finishing up your hotel duties quickly before hiding in your room. You grew bored after the first day admittedly, a person could only sleep and bathe and read so much. The fourth night is when he knocked on your door while you lied draped on your couch, your nose in a book you’d already finished before. Thinking it was Charlie, you ignored it, sure she’d get the message. It insisted however, rapping harder the second time. You sighed, annoyed. “Who is it?”

“Alastor, may I come in?”

A sour taste came in your mouth, “No.”

“You cannot lock yourself away from me forever.” 

You lifted yourself off the couch, full of bitterness, “I can and I will!”

An electric hum filled your ears, the sound of Alastor weighing his words, “Could you at least entertain my attempt?”

Walking to the door and opening it slightly you saw his face, those deep, hooded eyes dark as blood, cracked lips, and hollow cheekbones. All of those beautiful, haunting features draped in remorse. You sighed, cursing the affection you had for him. 

“Fine, but I’m still cross with you.” That made him smile, if only a tad. 

Opening the door fully, you saw he’d brought one of the dining carts from the unused kitchen clad in a clean white sheet. Alastor pushed it to the center of the room before spiritedly ripping the cover from the cart, presenting polished silver dishes of raw meat and organs. From the bottom shelf of it, he had pulled a fine bottle of wine and two shining glasses.

“I helped myself to a bottle of Husk’s finest, the patrons here don’t have as refined tastes as you and I.” He gave a small grin. So this is what he brought with him, a peace offering. Your stomach was empty from only eating a small meal earlier in the day, so perhaps it was not in vain, though you weren’t sure if you were ready to forgive him. 

“I’ll help you set the table,” you offered, feeling guilty he put so much effort into pleasing you. 

Alastor held his hands up, “No need darling.” He put his hand on his throat, “What I said the other day was very…” he coughed into his hand, “ungentlemanly of me, and I wanted to make it up to you.” 

You folded your hands and held them to your chest, looking at the embarrassment he tried to hide. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, and raised your gaze to his. “Thank you, Alastor.” His grin widened as he sat down beside you. 

He uncorked the bottle of wine, beginning to pour it into the glasses, “Of course.” He handed you the glass which you took gladly. The vintage was so dark it looked black, reflecting the lights that glowed from the ceiling. Swishing it, you could see the hidden shades of red that the wine hid.

“Demon’s blood, Husk calls it.” Alastor told you before he took a long sip. 

“Fitting. Do you know how long he’s aged it?” Alastor shrugged, taking another swallow. 

“I didn’t care to ask, but it tastes so good going down. Come, drink, I didn’t bring this up so I could get drunk by myself.” That made you giggle, how much he valued the both of you eating and drinking together. 

Taking his lead, you titled your head back, savoring the warm burn of the wine going down. Its hot fingers lingered in your chest before fading, like drinking cold medicine. In three large gulps you finished your glass, noticing the way Alastor’s eyes watched your throat as you drank. After finishing your second glass you began to dig into the food he’d brought, pancreas tarts, cooked kidneys and…oh good god! On the largest plate was a raw heart, fresh and bloody. 

“Where did you get this? You shouldn’t have!” Your eyes went wide and your mouth began to salivate. A raw heart! Oh and it was human too! Such a fine delicacy must have taken so much begging from Alastor!

“Rosie owed me a favor. And I owe it to you, for making such a jackass of myself.” 

You took another sip of your wine, feeling your face begin to flush. You helped yourself to a tart while Alastor poured himself another glass. As you ate you felt his eyes on you again, focusing on the way your teeth bit into the pastry, your swan’s neck showing your swallow, and how your tongue dragged across your lips. Feeling bold, you placed your feet in his lap and wiped the corner of your mouth with your finger, licking the tip of it with your tongue. He swallowed, hard, his eyes growing wide. 

“Are you looking at something?” Your voice a heavy seduction.

“Possibly.” He drank again. Leaning back on the arm of the couch, he placed his glass on the floor. The tips of his fingers grazed your legs, “Though I do have another question for you, if I may.”

A sultry smirk grew on your face, “That depends on what it is, Al.” God, you could see the glint in his eyes then.

Alastor looked up at you from his hooded eyes, “I’ve been wondering…about your “darling.” You arched an eyebrow; your interest piqued. “Did they ever have…you?” His breath shuddered. 

“Have me, how?” You teased.

“Oh humor me my dear,” He purred

You smirked and shifted your legs in his lap. “Hmm, maybe once or twice…” You sit up from your recline and crawl onto his lap.

“What sorts of things did they do to you?” 

Running your fingers down his chest you savored the way he squirmed and shifted, “All sorts of unholy things” 

Alastor choked on his breath, his eyes transfixed on your face. Slowly, he caught it, regaining a certain boldness afterwards. His hand found the top of your stocking, fingering the nylon taut to your thighs. “Getting rather comfortable aren’t we my dear?”

The smirk you had deepened and you pulled in closer, feeling the heat of his breath tickle your cheeks. You looked into his eyes, “I could get much more comfortable if you like, Al.” For what seemed like ages you lingered, until you felt you had tortured the man enough. Slowly, you leaned in, seemingly ready to kiss his shiny red lips. Grinning, you pulled a piece of dry skin from his bottom lip between your teeth, peeling it to show the bleeding flesh beneath. 

You sat back on his lap and spat out the skin. Looking at him, you saw that hunger in his eyes again. That fine line of decorum the two of you had with one another, ignoring the lingering gazes and longing touches, all thrown away with one bite. Underneath, you could feel his arousal beginning to grow hard. You rolled your hips slightly into him, earning a throaty groan from Alastor. From the silver dining cart you pulled the piece de resistance, that raw bleeding heart, and sunk your teeth into it, tasting the sweet flavor of iron. Trails of blood dripped from your mouth onto your decolletage, slowly turning brown and flaky.

Alastor’s breath heaved, growing even harder from that sultry cannibalistic display. He pulled you towards him and pressed your mouth to his, saccharine saliva mixing with sanguine. His tongue slid and twisted about yours, savoring every inch of its taste. You pulled away from him to catch your breath, making him whine. Leaning in again, he dragged his tongue along your neck, cleaning up the drying strings of blood. 

Both of you straightened up then, him holding you proper now. One hand ran its fingers through his shiny red hair and the other cupped his aching sex, so taut against his trousers. 

“Is that what you were so upset about Al? If they fucked me or not?” You purred into his ear.

The tips of your fingers fluttered over his hip, tracing its edge before returning to his cock. “I bet you wondered if I did this to them, didn’t you?” A small nip was placed on his neck, leaving a red half-moon. Your breath grew hot against his cheek as you whispered into his ear again, 

“Maybe I did, and maybe I did so many more dirty things to them.” 

Alastor enraptured your mouth in another needy kiss. His words heavy with radio static, “What sort of things my dear? Or are you all talk?” Your grin widened seeing the shock in his eyes when you began to unbutton his overcoat.

“Let me show you.”

Four little words was all it took to send him over the edge. Picking you up, his hands traced over all the parts of your succulent body. When he flopped you on the bed, hair as tousled as a pin-up, you reached out a stockinged leg to him, that devious look on your face growing. Oh how badly he wanted to have you, hastily unzipping your dress as you stripped him down to his undershirt and trousers. Deft fingers hooked around the tops of your stockings, pulling them down as fast as they could. You dropped his trousers and took off his shirt, admiring all of that soft, gray skin.

You pressed your mouth to the flesh of his stomach, blessing it with small love-bites that made him shudder. All along his torso you left red patches and traced your cool fingertips along the hard edges where his ribs poked out. You tilted your head up and moved his hands to the straps of your brasserie, exposing all of your hot, yearning flesh. He cupped a breast and lied on top of you. Grinding his sex to yours he moaned into your mouth. It had been so…so long since you’d been wanted, since someone pressed their body to yours and you felt all of their heat as they slid into you, over and over again. 

“Al,” You breathed

“What is it?”

“Get on your back.” 

And so he did. 

Alastor’s back against the mattress and your palms against his chest, you let him enter you. He let out a string of curses when you did, and even more when you started moving in those easy rolling motions. Those large hands of his held the curve of your waist as you rode him, his eyes half-lidded as he watched your breasts bounce. 

“The first time I saw you…” You began, going a little faster, “I wanted you,” You heard a small thud as he dropped his head against the pillows.

“I thought about you kissing me and touching me all over” That’s when the pulses of pleasure started to build up, prickling you in sweet needles that went all the way up your spine.

“And about you sticking your fingers in me and..and your tongue too” You felt your face heat up and your sex grow slicker, admitting those indecent thoughts you only entertained during late nights when your fingers wandered. Alastor gripped your waist tighter, making your rhythm harsher. You looked down on him, his eyes glazed over with euphoria, and felt your mouth pool with saliva.

Digging your nails into the skin of his chest you kept on. “For a whole week I couldn’t keep from slipping my hands between my legs.” Your voice, thick and hoarse. “I wanted to know what you tasted like, if-if your mouth tasted like blood,” that was when he quickened the pace even more. Your sex was so hot and wet, all the way at the base of your spine you could feel your orgasm coming to you, a full-body shiver that made your eyes well with tears. 

The last part was what sent him over the edge though. 

“Sometimes, I’d bite myself so I could taste the blood when I’d touch-” was all it took to make him come. 

Fuck it felt good too. A weak falsetto escaped your mouth when he released, so warm and filling. That’s what made you reach your end too. You clawed your nails in his skin so deep there were two broken half-moons on his chest. Your thighs clenched against his torso, quivering, as you could feel your body become as light and floaty as chiffon. 

Alastor let the both of you ride it out, that sweet joyous bliss. When your mind returned from the heaven it was sent to, you leaned over, resting on top of him. He moved you gently, pressing you closely to his chest. For a while, neither of you spoke, the air lingering with the smell of sweat and blood and sex. You ran your fingers through his hair again; He kissed the back of your hand before speaking. 

“If I’d known all that would come out of making you angry at me, I would’ve earned your ire a long while ago.” You rolled your eyes, flicking his chest playfully. 

“Perhaps we could do this again, without the arguing?” You propose, “You’re quite good at it.” 

A smile stretched across his face as he played with a lock of hair that rested near your face, “Expect nothing less from an overlord of hell cher.” One of his hands slid to your lower back, tracing small circles on that creamy flesh. 

“How about we try one more time without the arguing, for good measure?”

You smirked and kissed him again. All for good measure.

[delight-angelsbliss]

hey, i hope youre having a good week!!

im not sure if your requests are open but do you think you could write a sonic or shadow x reader whos a type one diabetic? ive seen maybe one other idea abt it for shadow and id love to see people write about it in more detail!

ofc, if you dont write for that, a general fluff for either of the two hedgies will work fine :3

Warnings: mentiones of syringes, not proofread as always

Precis: Hcs for sonic and shadow with a type one diabetic reader + normal relationship hcs

Notes: my cousin also has type on diabetes I found out in 2023 I only get to see her once a year. Ok so when I wrote like (っ˘ڡ˘ς)  that popped up and why r ppl using Arabic for their symbols?? Why is ت a smiley? And ppl complain abt using the Greek alphabet for symbols but then use the Arabic one as if that isn't hypocritical. Also I used what I've seen from my cousin and she used insulin syringes I've heard there r pills but I've never seen them so I hope this was ok! Hey dear keyboard from my mobile? Can you please stop making any simple present into a simple past or past form? 🥺

Sonic

Sonic isn't really good with memorizing reminders, his carefree attitude and fast pace of the world makes his head focus on other things than reminding people of things

But that doesn't mean he won't try to remind you to take your insulin

He isn't really a genius when it comes to health but he knows some of the basics like not using sweeteners or sugar in tea, making sure you always have insulin on hand and to always keep some before a meal

Sometimes sonic has to make himself look away as you pump a syringe inside your body before eating, no matter how many times he gets used to seeing you do that before eating, it makes him so sad knowing you have to do that everyday

It doesn't matter to sonic what kind of illness you have, as long as you're happy and healthy it makes him happy. He loves all his friends and that doesn't mean you'll get the same love, attention and more from him as his partner

Even when sonic isn't there he puts reminders and notes around your phone to remember stuff (even if you don't really need it) Sonic is trying his best but he knows he isn't able to do much that can help you which makes him sad almost everyday knowing he won't be able to take anything troublesome out your life to make it easier

Sonic still tries to be understanding and makes sure to sometimes drink tea without sugar for moral support no matter how bitter

Even if you chuckle, tell him he can add honey and that it doesn't bother you, he still persists as he tries to make jokes to lighten the mood and make sure you don't think about the mountain of syringes pumped with insulin and the lifelong condition you have

He'll make sure you're happy and remember as much as you can, he'll be the biggest help he can be!

︶ ⏝ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ⏝ ︶

Relationship hcs

Sonic may not have much time to spend but he makes every moment count, or at least tries to. Since Eggman is always plotting something, it is known as Sonic's "duty" to stop him while also keeping his charismatic personality

Some missions last months while some last a day or two, it varies a bit too much but that doesn't mean he isn't always there for you. I've said this before and I'll say it again: just because he isn't home much doesn't mean he won't think about you

His mind always wanders while fighting, thinking of you, at home waiting for him all alone (you're probably not alone but he likes to think so for his own ego) He doesn't like leaving you all alone but it is how it is

When he is at home he always wants to bring you with him outside. Mobius is such a pretty and sunny place so why not enjoy it? We all know he loves to run but he'd adjust his pace to be able to walk with you and listen to your day or whatever you say

We all know Sonic has immense pride and ego, so it isn't a surprise to other when he shows you off and makes sure everyone knows his love for you and the relationship you two have, to sonic, being yours and you being his is like a blessing. Sonic feels luck everyday knowing he's with someone he fully trusts and loves with his whole heart

Sonic knows that he won't always be there, that there's a lurking danger that he might croak during a battle, so he always tries to make the moment with you a good memory

^ he sees it fit to make many dates for the two of you, trying to make the memory one to hold onto, dinners, cuddles, movie nights, deep conversations while on a walk. You name it! He wants to remember his time with you forever and ever, he wants the same for you and he'll make sure it happens

His pet names for you are: babe, baby, my girl, babygirl (surprisingly), my love

Average teenage romance pet names if you get what I mean

Shadow

Shadow is stubborn, quiet and brooding, but that doesn't mean his memory is bad, he'll still be able to remind you daily to take insulin and actually researches what can make your blood sugar worse

He takes your condition seriously and tries his best to be there for you and help you with whatever you need: a ride to the doctors? Everyone get ready and buckle up! Cuz here we go (jay reference)

Shadow might be brooding but that doesn't mean he won't care for you and your health, he's like that with everyone even if he doesn't show it. His trauma of losing others has made him scared to feel that again so he becomes somewhat overbearing when it comes to your health concerns

He'll act like a mother and make sure you always have your insulin and drink tea without any sweeteners, this can obviously sometimes become too much to handle when he berates you for having high blood sugar or something else

The best way to get rid of that is sitting down and talk, listing a few reasons on why you need that overprotective kind of style to stop

Babes I know most of y'all throw an insult and can't make counter arguments but please learn to do that cuz it's a life long skill you'll need trust me

And you'll also need it here to be able to make him see how you don't like this overbearing behavior and nitpicking

If you do win the argument he'll try his best to tone it down, but that doesn't mean he won't stop helping you deal with it all. He's still too afraid you'll leave him one day or croak

Sometimes he just sits on his bed, thinking about you, it makes him nervous knowing you're dealing with something so horrid. We all know Shadow is more of a homebody so he tries to make dates indoors like a candle lit dinner, movie nights, plain cuddling and more!

︶ ⏝ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ⏝ ︶

Relationship !!

Shadow is very stubborn as we know (ahem idw) but he's still loving and listens to you/your ideas, he's already figured out what it means to lose people and he doesn't want to make the mistake of underappreciating someone again

He still sometimes has some nightmares of losing the ones he loves, including you, which makes him sometimes sleep on the couch as to not disturb your sleep. His nightmares usually consist of some places like the ark (did I say that right idk I blame the German dub) and his time there, when he does have nightmares he's in a vulnerable position, which he does not like at all, it'd best to console him at that time and hold him close while reassuring him you won't ever leave him

He tries his best to complete missions or outings as fast as possible so he can get back to you and do something together, even if it's just cooking a meal

His favorite things to do with you is definitely starting a new show, some of his favorite genres are definitely those crime involved action shows like 9-1-1 or something similar

His pet names for you are: my darling, love, precious, treasure and more stuff that makes you feel like royalty

[kakao-lovey]

Girl, fix your health.

Things you should be doing to live well.

If you struggle a lot with your health or generally aren't feeling well, I'm very sorry, and I hope I can help a little bit. This post is for everyone, even those who are just fine but looking to keep it that way.

Check-ups

Even if it's just once every 2 years, you've got to go give the healthcare system some money and check in with your doctor. This is especially true if you have (Or had) chronic health issues in the past.

Ask for:

Blood pressure (You can get this free at most pharmacies as well)

(You might think 'No, I never eat fast food, and eat mostly plants / am vegan' especially then!! Low blood pressure can cause fatigue, fainting, and a generally bad mood.)

Blood sugar levels

B12, Iron (Aren't usually tested at checkups, but I would recommend if you have deficiency symptoms or problems with undereating)

Calcium and vitamin D

Cholesterol levels (Assess risk of heart disease)

Complete blood count: checks for infections, anaemia or blood disorders

Thyroid, liver and kidney function test

Skin check (This applies to every skin colour. Skin cancers aren't exclusive to white people.)

(AFAB) Breast exam

(AFAB) Hormone panel

By the way, I'm also not a doctor. My highest medical qualification is 10th Grade biology. Please, discuss with your doctor what tests would be necessary for you.

Cardiovascular training

I hate cardio so much. Or, I used to, before I found a sport I enjoy that involves a lot of it but is still fun. If you like running, good on you! If you're like me, and need a lot of motivation and encouragement to get on a treadmill, here are some reasons why you should:

Heart health: you might think, 'This isn't a good enough reason. I am young, thin and never had to worry about fat in my coronary arteries.' So, how long do you want to live? Until 40? 50? Cardiovascular diseases are the number 1 cause of death on the entire planet.

Weight loss / management: cardio doesn't just burn calories, but also boosts your metabolism. If you're not into weight loss, remember boosted metabolism -> more energy.

Mood improvement: endorphins, baby. Cardio relieves stress, anxiety and depression, and we could all do with that.

Better sleep: fall asleep faster, wake up early and feeling refreshed.

Cognitive enhancement: exercise aids memory, focus, and creativity.

And here are some ideas how you can do it:

'Running sports': soccer, hockey, rugby, netball, basketball, volleyball, tennis, squash. Give humans a ball and a stick, and they're entertained for centuries.

Jumping rope: easy, convenient and heavy dose of cardio.

Swimming, running, cycling, or all three in quick succession

Hiking: adds a dose of nature

Dancing: I LOVE those K-pop dance workouts on youtube. 10/10 (If I'm alone in my room and nobody can see me)

15 minutes of sunlight

If you're like me and downright scared of UV rays, you need this. Why?

Vitamin D: A vitamin only absorbed by sunlight, which absorbs calcium and strengthens bones and the immune system. You're more likely to get a deficiency if you use sunscreen properly, and I think this applies to my audience (Love you guys)

If you're deficient in vitamin D, you might feel very fatigued and have muscle and/or bone pain.

Adjusts your circadian rhythm: This might not apply to those who get up very early, but sunlight directly after waking up is probably the best thing to do if you want to feel refreshed in the morning and sleepy at the appropriate time in the evening.

Supports metabolism: Natural sunlight aside, it's even debated among nutritionists whether vitamin D suppresses appetite and aids weight loss.

Healthy drink swaps

Food swaps are cool. What's even cooler is not just paying attention to what you eat, but what you drink as well.

Coffee for the caffeine → green or black tea There are so many forms of these teas. Matcha, herbal green tea, Ceylon... They are so loved because they give you that caffeine fix while being hydrating and not disturbing sleep or having a 'Crash'.

Coffee for the warmth and creaminess -> Rooibos or Earl Grey (Milk teas) with honey

Store-bought fruit juice -> Homemade green juices or orange juice If you have a juicer, don't sleep on it. Store-bought juice often contains sugar, which surprised me so much? They are also many times reconstituted concentrates, which just means they have been boiled at high heat to remove the water, then re-diluted with less water elsewhere. This has the side effect of killing (Denaturing) enzymes in the juice, and vitamins are just enzymes. If you don't have a juicer, use a blender and strain.

Soft drinks -> hibiscus, rose hip, grapefruit etc. iced tea Be sure to make it yourself, or purchase from a brand you trust not to add sugar or preservatives. I cannot stress enough how important it is to say no to these drinks.

Sports drinks -> infused water Try lemon, strawberries, mint, cucumber (My favourite) or blueberries.

Hot chocolate -> Matcha latte Here's another tip: if you want to treat yourself to a nice drink but don't want to have stomach problems or break out afterwards, try buying expensive mineral water. This may sound stupid, but trying out different bottled water and judging them like a fine wine is great fun to me.

Prioritising sleep

Here are some tips to fall asleep faster at night:

Don't consume any media (Read, watch movies/shows/Youtube) for a short time before going to bed: this helps my brain to 'Quieten down' a little bit. It happens in much the same way your brain feels like noodle soup after binge-watching youtube shorts for four hours while depressed, just on a smaller scale. If you stuff yourself with content before sleeping, you won't be able to let go as easy.

Have low light levels around you throughout the evening: circadian rhythm again. If you need to be on a device, turn the brightness way down and put on a blue light filter.

Comfort: Lavender essential oil, soft animals and candlelight are some of the things that could help you wind down in the evening.

Light stretches: especially if you've done exercise the day before. Focus on your shoulders and back, legs and neck, as these are the most commonly stressed muscles in everyday life. This *really* helps.

Brown noise / White noise / Theta waves: If you have not tried putting on non-melodic binaural beats or static while sleeping or meditating, you are missing out big-time. No scientific evidence this time, just take my word and go listen to pure theta waves.

Proper hygiene (TW: talk of germs)

We all shower, put on antiperspirant and brush our teeth (I hope). But these things might be equally important and not talked about enough.

Disinfect devices: use a lens cleaning wipe to clean screens and keyboards. Especially if you touch your face often. When you transfer germs from phones or laptops to your face or food, you are essentially giving them a free ride to your body.

The same counts for door handles, faucets and toilet handles. Use an antibacterial disinfectant to kill those germs.

Changing your pillowcase every two days: this is more an acne thing than a protect-your-immune-system thing, but even then, using the same pillowcase you smear residual skincare, makeup, drool and tears on every night is nasty.

Washing your hands before eating, cooking, after using the bathroom and after coming home from a public area

Getting a new toothbrush every month, and washing it after every use with hot water

Vacuum-cleaning the walls: Y'all. There's dust on your walls. Go wipe your finger on it, test the hypothesis. You do not want to breathe that in every day.

That's all from me for today.

~ Kakao <3

[mahi-wayy]

Hi. Umm idk if you are still doing those headcanons but if you are can you do one for arjun sarkar from hit 3

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 | 𝑨𝑹𝑱𝑼𝑵 𝑺𝑨𝑹𝑲𝑨𝑹

• General • Romantic [ both sfw & nsfw ]

a/n : shut up. I can't keep away any longer :D

• General

1. him is stubborn that's canon but once he gets attached he has almost blind faith in that person.

2. him and KD were batch mates, at that time he used to have a pet eagle ( sort of )

3. he likes animals a lot more than humans. anti-social apart from his job.

4. lost his mother when he was around six, left with his grandparents he develops a sense of being abandoned.

5. he graduates as one of the best in academics and training but also the worst in behavior, from the police academy.

6. he suffered clinical anger issues, blood pressure issues AND ptsd.

7. has only a hand full of panic attack mostly because all of that comes out as anger mostly.

8. his policy of "No dating a colleague" is because he's petty and people often told him to get together with someone from the force or mistook one of his team as his girlfriend so he started the policy.

9. he has a habit of cracking his knuckles since like he was teen. it usually happens when he wants to hit someone or say something but can't.

10. he often falls asleep in his jeep because look he has insomnia and can barely sleep and he's workaholic so he he doesn't really care that he can't sleep.

11. he has two past relationship, one during collage ( ended when he got in repeated fights ) and second was after collage and before academy but it ended right before he got in academy.

12. he gets very annoyed when he can't get blood off of his clothes.

13. his eating schedule is all over the place too, especially if he doesn't visit home during lunch time or for dinner ( which is notoriously doesn't )

14. he prefers to eat a lot more protein ( mostly because it takes time to digest and he doesn't feel hungry for next meal quickly )

15. he also makes it a point to spend at least two hours in gym regularly.

16. his habit of smoking developed in the first year of duty, mostly as a stress relief and than evolved over time from cigarette to like cigars.

17. his drinking is significantly lower, occasional only when he's under too much pressure or on days where emotions are too apparent to him.

18. he is allergic to almonds, it makes him dizzy and triggers breathing issues.

19. he takes his coffee with two milk and three sugars and for the love of God don't talk to him unnecessarily in the morning before you see him have atleast two cups of coffee.

20. he spends a significant amount of time in shooting range, especially when his PTSD is triggered.

• Romantic [ both sfw & nsfw ]

1. this man is not about to ask you out or even if he wants to it'll take him forever so please do it yourself.

2. he acts all macho and strong man but one compliment and few soft words will have him crumbly in your hands.

3. he likes to buy stuff for his partner, jewellery, watches, clothing. anything he or you might like.

4. makes effort to be there, especially when he can't be in person. constant texts and check in calls are usual.

5. he's very protective and easily scares away anyone he doesn't like looking at you.

6. this all being said he's not that dominant in bed. more of a service top kind of guy.

7. he's not the most vocal but grunts and moans every now and then.

8. he definitely has a praise kink and a think for sensors deprivation.

9. he's willing to let himself be tied up if he can return the favor.

10. enjoys a fair share of fast and hard pace but is more of a slow and deep kind of guy.

tags : @mayakimayahai @warnermeadowsgirl @voidsteffy @jkdaddy01 @rambheem-is-real @allari-ammayi @mellaga-karagani @ulaganayagi @ahamasmiyodhah @ranisingnewyetagian @myvarya @toomanyfanficsbruh @harinishivaa @chaliyaaa let me know if you want to be added or removed !!

[satorusugurugurl]

Hi, congrats on 2k followers! Can you do the margaritas prompt with Nanami for your event?

Spicy Margarita!

Summary: Marie’s Summer Fest prompt: margaritas

Pairing: Nanami Kento x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, buzzed sex, both parties are consenting, unprotected, sex, couch, sex, rough sex

Word Count: 1,776

A/N: thank you Nonnie!! A few of my mutuals know that I have a weakness for spicy margaritas or margaritas in general! I have been known to order commissions from time to time after consuming many margaritas on Friday nights! So this one came naturally to me!

One of the many things you loved about your husband was the fact that he was a foodie. Both of you enjoyed going out and having dinner, trying new restaurants, foods, and drinks. Especially when you were together on the weekends. While eating at a new Mexican restaurant one weekend, you found your favorite alcoholic beverage—a spicy mango margarita with Chamoy and tajin sugar-salt rim.

The drink was the perfect combination of salty, spicy, and sweet. If you could dive into the sweet, fruity frozen cocktail and swim in it, you would. It was your all-time favorite in the entire world.

It was until the restaurant shut down because the owner moved back to Mexico. That was truly a sad day when you and Nana saw the building was empty on a Saturday night. You cried over losing your favorite fruity cocktail but tried to find the next best one you could. Your journey was very disappointing because every restaurant you ate at didn't come close to making a tasty margarita. The drinks you had tasted were either too expensive or were just mediocre. Eventually, your poor heart couldn’t take the mourning any longer of trying to find the next best margarita out there. So you found yourself opting for the next best thing: Korean plum wine.

Soon, the memory of that tasty margarita would become nothing more than a memory. A fond one that was full of laughter and smiles. Until you came home from work on a hot summer day, only to be greeted by the sound of a blender entering the kitchen instead of your husband's soothing voice. Following the sound, you sauntered into the kitchen, freezing in your tracks as you stared at the blender's bright orange, frozen concoction. Your husband was rimming a glass and sticky red mix before rubbing it on a plate full of sugar.

“Ken?” upon hearing your voice, your husband turned to smile, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Welcome home, Love.” you watched as Nanami poured the contents of the blender into one of the rimmed glasses. “Here you go. Thank you for your hard work this week.”

Your mouth began to water as you brought the glass up to your mouth. After taking a long sip, the second spicy liquid hit your tongue. Your eyes snapped wide open. Your Margarita! Your sweet husband somehow managed to make your favorite drink. The sound of your happy moans leaving your mouth was music to your husband‘s ears.

“Kento! This is delicious!” you took another sip, eyes rolling back into your skull at the sweetness that envelops your taste buds. “How did you even manage to make it this perfect?”

“Trial and error.” emotions to a few other glasses on the counter. “I made these on the rocks to taste test until I perfected it. I blended it all once I knew I had the right measurements of everything.”

Along the counter were six glasses half full of orange liquid. You placed your frozen margarita down before trying one of the other drinks. The ice clinked in the glass as you brought your mouth tasting it. It was just as good as the frozen one he had handed you! You could tell there was something different about it; though this one had less spicy tequila, but it was still mouth-watering good!

“Mmm, it's so good, Ken!” Nanami took one of the five remaining cups and downed its liquids, humming at the delicious taste with less mango puree.

“Yes, you’re right, it is good.”

Not wanting to waste a single drop of the tasty drinks, you and your husband downed his six experiments before taking on the pitcher next. It was safe to say both of you were pretty buzzed when the last drops of the margarita were gone. And as the liquid seemed to warm your blood, you had an undying need to have your husband inside of you.

The thing about tequila was that it never left you feeling hungover, but it made you insanely horny.

So it was no surprise to your husband when you pulled your clothes off. The tequila left a certain glowly hue around your husband, fueling your hungry desire. Nanami was feeling the same. A warm, tingly sensation ran down his back as he leaned back against the couch, watching your eyes play with lust as you began hugging his sweats down. His hand gently reached around the back of your head, stroking your hair softly as you straddled his hips.

“I want you.”

“You do?”

“Mhmm~!”

Your tequila-laced breath moved in with his own, the smell of alcohol flooding your senses as Nanami gently gripped your hips with both his hands.

“Good, I need you too.” Nanami’s lips pressed against yours as he began bucking his hips up against you, needing to do nothing more than bury himself inside of you.

Which was how you found yourself in your current position, pressed into the couch cushions as you are back into you from behind. You cried out whimpers, leaving your mouth as the pillows muffled some of your sounds while you rocked shamelessly back against your husband’s cock. Nanami grunted, tilting his head back as he lost himself in the way that your pussy squeezed him.

His hand slapped firmly against your ass, massaging it roughly. “Fuck you're so damn tight!” he gripped the fat of your ass, forcing you to fuck yourself back against him harder.

“K-Ke—Kento!” you breathlessly whimpered, looking back over your shoulder at the crazed look in his eyes as he focused on the site of his dick disappearing inside of you. With your ass against him, his cock began to shimmer with your wet sticky arousal. “Nngh!”

He slammed the head of his cock firmly against your cervix, making your eyes roll back as your head fell forward, face buried in the cushions. Your sweet moans were muffled until Nanami wrapped his hand around your hair as if you were his tie and lifted your head out of the cushions. Those sweet little cries that left your mouth filled the living room, bouncing off the walls from how loud you were.

“Don’t you even think about holding back those sounds. I want to hear you.” He tugged your hair tighter, lifting your head higher. From the grip he had on your head, your back arched deeper, sticking your ass up higher, forcing his cock deeper inside of you. “Nngh fuck—mmph— yes, that’s my good girl taking my cock like a good little slut.”

“Haaah! Ah~ ah~ fuck! Fuuuck Kento!”

The couch creaked under your weight as Nanani began thrusting harder into you, slamming his hips so hard against your own that your ass rippled under the force. You were filled to the ultimate brim, his tip kissing your cervix, pressing deeper into you. You could feel him in your womb, leaving you crying, tears streaming down your cheeks from the oversensitivity as pure white hot pleasure rushing through your veins.

“Mmm~ that’s right, that’s my good little slut, crying over how good she feels.” Nanami kissed your shoulder blades before forcing your head back into a throw pillow. “Now be a good little cum slut, and squirt all over my cock.”

The slow lazy thrusts were completely halted as Nanami pulled all the way out, his tip catching on the ring of your tight entrance before he set a brutal fucking pace. He slammed into you and made you cry into the pillow, tears staining it, proof of how good and sensitive you felt things, thanks to the alcohol in your system.

But it wasn’t just the tequila that made you feel like this. It was the unfiltered love that you had for the man who was making you feel so good. He went above and beyond, making your favorite drink. Something that you had pretty much given up on our tasting again. But your husband had done the impossible. He had spent time, effort, and resources concocting that perfect drink to make you happy.

So, of course, you were crying tears of joy as Nanami fucked you so good. Consistently proving that he was the man you wanted to spend your entire life with. It only took three of that deep hard thrust, where his head rubbed and brushed against your g-spot perfectly before ramming into your cervix with a force that left you reeling as you came hard, squirting all over his cock all over the sofa, making a mess.

Your husband didn’t take long to follow you over the edge, hands gripping your hips and his large hands holding steady as he filled your cunt with his seed. The sensation of the spurts of hot white sticky cum filling you made you moan in pure pleasure as you let out muffled cries of your husband’s name into the pillow beneath you. Once Nanami’s cock stopped throbbing. He gently pulled it out of you, helping you sit back against him as his cum began leaking out of your pussy.

His lips gently pressed against your cheek as he ran his hand back over your head, pushing your hair out of your face. You turned slightly towards him, pressing your lips against his, and just as he began to smile at you, you started rocking your hips slowly against him, his face twisting up with pleasure and fear as you moved so fast he barely saw you. One second he was sitting up, holding you in his arms, and the next, he was forced down on the couch while you straddled his hips, hovering over his cock, while your combined cum drilled all over his crotch.

At that moment when he swears he could see a hearts in your pupils. He suddenly remembers the second reason behind your undying love of those spicy margaritas. Not only did it make you horny, but it fueled your already high sex drive. Swallowing hard Nanami watched as you lined his cock up with your pussy. He was in for a very long night. Not that he was complaining about it.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3

Summer Fest Tag List:

@typicalife-101