#I was so mad when I found out but these still turned out kind of nice

[earthlyangelbby]

Say Anything ❄️

CW: virgin!Eddie, kissing, fingering, blow job, P+V, nervous!Eddie reader is referred to as Angel she/her

Summary: A typical hangout turns into an unexpected sleepover when a snow storm traps Eddie at her house. A first for Angel and Eddie's friendship. But that isn't Eddie's only first that night.

7.8k words

For two months now she and Eddie had been inseparable, ever since they first met at Family Video, where he worked. She’d just moved to town, and Eddie, with his wild hair and easy grin, had been the first person to make her feel welcome. Spending their afternoons together, grabbing coffee, or just hanging out at each other's places was a welcomed new normal. Eddie insisted that in comparison to him, she was an Angel. So that's what he called her. Well most of the time anyway, Sweetheart and Darling still found a way to his list of names for her. 

Tonight, Angel had invited Eddie over again, knowing her dad was out of town. Her bedroom was its usual cozy mess, books, and clothes scattered across the floor. Eddie was sprawled on the bed, thumbing through her records.

The credits rolled across the screen as Peter Gabriel’s In Your Eyes played softly in the background. Eddie stretched his arms behind his head, his lips curling into a sly grin. 

“Alright, I’ll admit it—that was pretty solid. But the boombox scene? Total cheese.”

She hugged a pillow to her chest, narrowing her eyes at him. “Cheese? Eddie, that’s one of the most iconic romantic gestures of all time!”

Eddie scoffed, shaking his head. “Oh, come on. What kind of guy actually does that in real life? Stands outside someone’s window blasting music like a one-man concert?” He paused, his grin turning playful. “If I liked a girl, I’d at least write her a song or something, not just steal a track off the radio.”

“Wow, how original,” she shot back with a smirk. “A whole song? That’s so much cooler than Lloyd Dobler holding up a boombox.”

Eddie leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Admit it, Angel—you’d totally swoon if a guy did that for you. The letter-writing, the boombox, the whole deal.”

She sighed dramatically, pressing the pillow to her chest. “Lloyd Dobler is the perfect guy. He’s sweet, thoughtful, and knows exactly what he wants. Who wouldn’t want someone like that?”

Eddie chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay. Perfect guy. Sure. But you’d be bored stiff after two weeks with him.”

Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me?!”

“Admit it,” Eddie teased. “You’d miss the fun of someone who actually knows how to keep you on your toes. Lloyd’s all grand gestures and deep talks, but where’s the chaos? The unpredictability?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You mean the kind of chaos you bring? Let me guess you’re more of a Fast Times at Ridgemont High guy.”

“That’s harsh,” Eddie said, catching the pillow she threw at him. “But accurate.” He grinned, leaning back into the couch. “Give me Spicoli over Lloyd Dobler any day. At least he knows how to have a good time.”

Shaking her head, she stood up and started gathering the empty snack bowls. “Yeah, that tracks. You’d be too busy making fun of everything to appreciate a real romantic gesture.”

Eddie wandered over to her record collection, his attention snagged by the neatly stacked vinyl. “Alright, now let’s see if your taste in music makes up for your questionable taste in movies.”

“Questionable?” she called over her shoulder, shooting him a look. “Says the guy who probably listens to nothing but screaming guitars.”

“Not just screaming guitars,” Eddie shot back, flipping through the records. He pulled one out, holding it up with a raised eyebrow. “Ah, ABBA. Dancing Queen. A true masterpiece.”

She snorted, crossing her arms. “Mock it all you want, but ABBA’s timeless.”

Eddie held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, don’t get me wrong. I can get down to ABBA.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wait, seriously?”

“Sure,” he admitted, smirking. “I just like seeing how mad I can make you.”

“You’re impossible,” she said, rolling her eyes but unable to hide her grin.

Before she could respond further, the crackle of the radio interrupted them, followed by a stern announcement from the weather service.

"Weather alert: A severe snowstorm is expected to hit the area tonight. Please Stay indoors and avoid unnecessary travel until further notice."

She raised an eyebrow, lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Looks like you’re stuck here, Eddie.”

Eddie straightened up, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief. “Stuck? What do you mean? You invited me over on purpose, knowing this would happen. You wanted me to sleep over!”

Oh god, is he actually onto me? I mean, I didn’t plan for a snowstorm, but I’m not exactly upset it’s keeping him here longer. I can’t even deny that I might have... hoped for this. He’s probably just messing around.

She laughed, feeling the flush creep onto her cheeks. “It’s not like I planned for a snowstorm. Do you really think I can control the weather?”

Eddie leaned in, his grin widening. “So, you’ve got me stuck here with a snowstorm raging outside. I think that was your plan all along, sweetheart?”

She smirked, raising an eyebrow. “What? Do you think I invited you over just for the snow? Maybe I just like your company,” she teased, trying to sound casual.

Eddie's smile softened “You know I like your company too. I’m glad to be stuck here with you. Better than being by myself in my tin can.” 

She chuckled, glancing at the window where snowflakes were already swirling around. “As long as you don't hog all the covers we’ll be good Eds” 

Wait, what? Did she just—? Eddie’s thoughts raced. Did she really just say that? Does she want me to—sleep in her bed? Does she mean it? Or am I overthinking it? This is it. This is the moment. Don’t freak out, just stay cool, Munson. It’s just a bed.

Eddie’s grin faded for a moment, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. “Wait, so… do you want me to sleep in your bed with you?” he asked, a little taken aback by the suggestion. You have never crossed that line before, and the thought seemed to catch him off guard.

Her cheeks flushed with heat, but she shrugged it off, doing her best to play it cool. “I didn’t say anything about that,” she said, trying to sound casual, but there was a spark of something in her eyes. “I just meant, don’t hog the blankets if you’re sticking around.”

Eddie’s heart skipped a beat, and he couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. Oh, she definitely wants me in that bed. It’s in her eyes—she’s trying to act like she’s not into it, but I can tell. His pulse quickened as his mind raced. Okay, play it cool, Munson. Don’t give her the satisfaction of seeing how much I want this.

He leaned back slightly, glancing from her to the bed, pretending to give it a second thought. “Oh, I’m staying. No way am I braving that snowstorm just to freeze in my van.” His voice was smooth, but his thoughts were anything but. She’s giving me an opening. She’s letting me stay in her bed. I mean, she has to know how badly I want this. It’s all there, right? The way she said it, the way she looked at me…

She tried to hide the smirk tugging at her lips, but the playful gleam in her eyes didn’t quite match the nonchalance in her tone. “Relax, Eddie. It’s not like I’m asking you to stay forever.” She paused for a beat, her voice dropping into something just a little quieter, more teasing. “I’m just saying… share the blankets.”

Eddie’s grin widened, a thrill running through him. She’s giving me a chance here. She’s being coy, but I know what she’s doing. His mind spun with the possibility of what might come next. This is it. No turning back now.

“Well, in that case,” Eddie said, his voice low and teasing, “I guess I can handle a little blanket sharing. Not like I’ve got a choice now.”

Her lips fought a smile curving up slightly, “It's getting late, are you almost ready for bed?” 

Eddie let out a dramatic sigh as he tugged at the waistband of his jeans, giving her a playful look. God, this feels ridiculous. But seriously, I can't stop thinking about how she’s letting me stay here. In her bed. With her. This is actually happening, right?

He glanced over at her as she laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Guess I didn’t plan for the full-on ‘cozy night in,” Eddie said, a smirk tugging at his lips as he stood up, rolling his shoulders before making a dramatic show of pulling at the jeans again. Come on, play it cool. He caught her eye and winked, trying to act like it was all just casual fun, but inside, he was definitely feeling more than just the weight of the jeans. 

She shot him a teasing look. "What? You think those are uncomfortable? You really picked the tightest pair of jeans for a cozy snowed-in night?" she laughed, trying to hold back her smile. "You’re not gonna survive the storm in those."

Eddie glanced down at his jeans in exaggerated dismay. "You think these are the pants of misery?" He sighed dramatically. "Alright, you’ve got me. It’s either freedom of movement or... well, whatever this is."

She couldn’t help but laugh. "Exactly. You need something comfier if you’re planning to sleep." She casually walked over to her closet, pulling it open with a little shrug. "I don’t exactly have a ton of comfy options, though."

Eddie raised an eyebrow, half in jest, half in anticipation. "No sweatpants? Really?"

She turned back toward him with a smirk. "Sorry, not my style. But..." She paused, eyes glinting mischievously. "You could always just sleep in your underwear. No judgment."

Eddie froze for a second. His heart raced. Did she—? Did she just say that? He quickly suppressed the thought, but his mind couldn’t help but wander. "Oh, really? I’m free to just—" He cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. "Well, guess I don’t have much choice, huh?"

What if she’s serious? Eddie thought, his mind working overtime. She definitely wouldn’t suggest it unless she wanted me to, right?

She chuckled softly, glancing at him over her shoulder, amused by his reaction. She continued rummaging through her clothes, her heart skipping just a little bit at the thought of him actually following through. Does he know how hot he’d look in just his underwear? she thought, trying to focus on her task and not the fact that her imagination was already running wild. This is normal. I’m being normal about this. He’s not making a big deal of it. Neither should I.

"Guess that’s the only option," Eddie said, trying to play it off with a smirk, but inwardly, his excitement was building. Holy shit, she just gave me the green light...

She pulled a soft, cotton nightgown from the closet, holding it up to show Eddie. "This is what I’ll wear," she said, casually tossing it on the bed. It was simple, yet elegant—a soft blue nightgown that looked like it could almost flow if she twirled. 

Eddie’s breath hitched. His eyes flickered to her, then quickly down to the nightgown, his mind a little too distracted by the thought of seeing her in it. Oh my god, she looks amazing, even holding that thing up like it’s no big deal... He quickly pushed the thought aside, but his heart skipped a beat. "Nice," he said, a little too quickly. "That’s definitely fancier than my—well, my underwear."

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. Fancier? I’m just trying to be comfortable… but wow, he actually noticed. "Yeah, well, you’ll be fine in your own boxers," she said with a teasing smile. "Just get comfortable, Munson."

Eddie, still a little distracted by the sight of her in the nightgown, smiled and gave her a nod. God, I can’t wait to see her wear that.

"Alright, alright," Eddie said, his voice a little huskier than usual. "I’m gonna go change. Don’t worry, I’m making myself comfortable." As he walked off toward the bathroom, Eddie’s heart still pounded in his chest, anticipation hanging in the air like a sweet tension neither of them fully acknowledged—yet both could feel.

Her mind was already drifting, imagining him in just his boxers, stretching out on her bed, and her pulse quickened. This is gonna be a very interesting night.

As Eddie stepped into the bathroom, he quickly closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment to steady himself. His heart was still racing, a nervous excitement buzzing under his skin. Okay, Munson, you’ve got this. Just wash your face, get your shit together, and don’t act like a total idiot when you get back. He splashed some of her fancy cleanser onto his hands, massaging it into his face as he stared at himself in the mirror. Is this really happening? 

He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts swirling in his mind. Of course, it’s happening. She’s not gonna make me sleep in a freezing room. She offered it. Don’t freak out. Just play it cool. Don’t act like this is the first time a pretty girl has said you can crash in her bed, even though it is.

In her room, She stood in front of her mirror, gently brushing out her hair, the rhythmic motion soothing her nerves. Her thoughts, however, were anything but calm. I can’t believe I just said that. Did I really just casually suggest he could sleep in his underwear? 

She paused, catching her reflection in the mirror and giving herself a brief, amused glance. He’s here. I want him here. And this feels like... well, like something I’ve been hoping would happen.

She glanced down at the nightgown she’d slipped into, a soft cotton fabric that barely brushed her knees, the cool blue color feeling delicate against her skin. It’s just a nightgown, she reminded herself, but the flutter in her chest said otherwise. No big deal, right?

She tugged at the short frilly sleeves, smoothing them down, feeling her pulse quicken just thinking about Eddie returning.

Eddie stepped out of the bathroom, still drying his hands on a towel, but the moment he saw her, he stopped cold. She stood by the mirror, brushing her hair with slow, deliberate strokes, and the sight of her hit him like a truck.

God, she’s gorgeous. Like something out of a dream. She doesn’t even know what she’s doing to me right now.

She glanced over at him, catching his reflection in the mirror before turning to face him fully. “Hey,” she said, her voice light but carrying an undertone of something... softer.

Eddie cleared his throat, trying not to visibly gawk. He leaned casually against the doorframe, forcing a grin that he hoped didn’t look as shaky as he felt. “Well,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “looks like your pajamas win. Just my boxers can’t compete with... that.”

Her cheeks turned pink, but she held his gaze, her lips curling into a playful smile. “Guess I have better taste than you, Munson,” she teased, her confidence surprising even herself. But inside she was static. She looked him up and down 

Eddie chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to steady himself. “Yeah, well, if I’d known the competition was gonna be this stiff, I might’ve brought backup.”

She rolled her eyes, turning back to the mirror to set down her brush, but her smile lingered. Meanwhile, Eddie hesitated in the doorway, the playful smirk on his face betraying the nervous energy coursing through him. He rubbed his palms against the sides of his thighs and glanced at her, casually—but not really—trying to figure out his next move. He hadn’t been this nervous in ages.

“Alright, Angel,” he started, his voice carrying a teasing lilt, “what side of the bed am I claiming? Or are we flipping a coin for it?”

She laughed softly, turning from the mirror to face him fully. Her heart skipped at the sight of him standing there in just his boxers, his usual confidence somehow making the simple gesture of leaning against the frame look ridiculously attractive.

“The left,” she said, gesturing toward the bed. “That’s usually my side, but I’ll let you have it tonight.”

Eddie arched an eyebrow. “Oh, you’re giving up your side? That’s a big deal, Angel. I hope you know I don’t take this responsibility lightly.”

She rolled her eyes, climbing onto the bed and sliding under the covers. “You’re so dramatic,” she teased, fluffing her pillow. “But seriously, the left side is all yours.”

Eddie crossed the room and plopped onto the mattress, testing it out with exaggerated bounces. “Alright, not bad. Better than my van. You’ve got some luxury here.” He turned his head, flashing her a grin. “You sure about this, though? Sharing a bed with a wild card like me? I toss, turn, and talk in my sleep this could be dangerous.”

She smirked, pulling the blanket up to her chest. “I think I can handle it. Just don’t hog all the covers, and we’ll be fine.” He grinned, settling in as he tugged the blanket over himself. His bare arm brushed hers, and she couldn’t help but notice how warm his skin felt. A human furnace, for sure. The thought made her heart flutter.

As she lay there, Angel felt a rush of excited nerves spiraling through her. Eddie settled in beside her, and the small space between them felt charged with an energy she’d never experienced before. She glanced sideways, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes landed on his bare chest, perfectly defined and adorned in tattoos.

Holy hell, he looks good. She couldn’t help the warmth flooding her cheeks at the thought. 

Her heart raced as she shifted slightly, the sheets brushing against her skin. Seeing him in just his boxers made her pulse quicken in a way that had heat pooling low in her belly. 

This is Eddie. My friend Eddie. And here we are, sharing a bed like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Her mind raced with sudden images of what it would be like to lean in closer, to wrap her arms around him and feel every taut muscle under her touch. Just the idea made her core dampen in excitement.

 Is this really happening? Am I really lying here with him?

Eddie, on the other hand, was fighting his own wave of exhilaration. Being this close to her felt electric; her warmth, the soft scent of her hair, the way the sheets curled around her body. Everything was overwhelming in the best way. The moment he’d seen her in that nightgown, he felt a jolt of something primal, something he couldn’t quite place. She looks so beautiful, so inviting. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as they sat in the dim light, the soft shadows playing across her features. 

“Hey, you cold?” he asked. He could feel the way she shivered slightly, her skin just brushing against his arm. He had to suppress the warmth crawling through him at the thought of pulling her closer. “You know, if you need to, I could always offer my cuddling services,” he said, smirking as he waggled his eyebrows playfully. “I can be a professional snuggler. Consider it my personal mission to keep you warm tonight.”

Her pulse quickened at the suggestion. “Oh, really?” she replied, trying to sound casual. But inside, she was a flurry of thoughts, battling between wanting to take him up on it and pretending she was completely unaffected. “You think you can handle my cold touch?” 

Eddie laughed, the sound making her heart flutter again. “Trust me, Angel, by the end of the night, you’ll be the one begging for my warmth. Just you wait,” he said confidently. But his heart raced at the thought. This is it. She wants my warmth. She wants me to hold her. “Come on let me hold you, it’s a snowstorm out there; how can I let you freeze while I’m all toasty over here?” 

Angel could feel her cheeks heat at his words, excitement rushing through her like electricity. The way he said ‘hold you’ sent her mind spinning, and she wrestled with the desire to lay her head against his chest and feel his arms wrapped around her. Why does he have to make this so tantalizing? 

With a soft grin, she placed her head on the pillow directly next to him, inching closer. “Alright, snuggler, show me just how good you are at this.” Her voice came out a whisper, playful but carrying an undercurrent of sincerity that made Eddie's breath hitch.

He grinned, moving slightly closer, daring to let his bare skin make contact with hers. The warmth radiating from her felt amazing, and he could feel how beautifully soft she was against him. “Brace yourself,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “It’s about to get extra cozy in here.” He shifted, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her gently nearer, feeling her warmth seep into him. 

Angel melted into him, the softness of his body against hers sending a thrill through her. His heartbeat was steady and comforting, a rapid drum against hers. As his arm encircled her, she felt the tension slip from her body, replaced by the undeniable warmth of being so close to someone she’d grown attached to in ways she could never have anticipated. 

Eddie’s heart raced as he pulled her snugly against him, the heat radiating off her making his insides swirl. This is better than I ever could’ve imagined. The way she fit against him felt so right. He could hear the slight hitch in her breath, and it made the adrenaline rush through him even more. She’s here. Holding me, feeling this. “See?” he murmured, a satisfied grin on his face. “Told you I’d keep you warm.” But inside, he was screaming in delight. The way her body felt against his was overwhelming, and he tried to focus on holding it together. Don’t screw this up, Munson. Just enjoy this moment.

Her heart raced as she heard the thud of his laying so close in the dark. “Mmm Eddie you’re so warm. You feel so strong.” 

 Eddie felt a rush of warmth flood through him at her words, a grin spreading across his face. The way she nestled against him, gripping onto his arm like he was her lifeline, sent a thrill racing straight to his core. He could feel her breath tickle against his skin, and it was like he was on fire, mesmerized by how close they were.  “Yeah, well,” he said, his voice playful, yet laced with a newfound vulnerability, “I’ve got to keep you warm somehow.” As she snuggled closer, her cheek brushing against his, he fought to keep it together, even as butterflies erupted in his stomach. “Strong, huh?” he continued, tilting his head slightly to look at her, the proximity making it impossible for him to hold back the urge to lean in. “You sure you’re not just saying that to get me to flex or something?”

“Mmm, I might just need a demonstration,” she teased, giving his arm a playful squeeze. Her voice was light, but it belied the undercurrent of affection she felt for him. Being this close felt so natural, so electric, and she reveled in the warmth of his body. Something about the intimacy of the moment made her heart race; it was as if every inch of her was hyper-aware of his presence.

Eddie couldn't help but chuckle. “Oh, trust me, if it were flexing you wanted, I could definitely show you that,” he said, a hint of sarcasm dancing in his tone. “But for now, I think I’ll just let my warmth do the talking.” He shifted slightly, turning to face her more fully, allowing her to press against him as he wrapped his other arm around her. As he pulled her closer, he marveled at how it felt to hold her. Her body molded perfectly against his, the curve of her shoulder snug against his chest. She fit as if she were meant to be there.

“Better?” he asked softly, letting his cheek rest against her hair, inhaling the faint scent of her shampoo that was sweet with coconut and cherries—something that felt both invigorating and calming at once.

“Much better,” she murmured, a smile playing on her lips. “You really are the best at this, Eddie.” 

Eddie’s heart swelled. The way she spoke made it sound like he was achieving some kind of monumental feat, like being a master cuddler was a serious accomplishment. He tightened his grip around her, letting his fingers caress her shoulder lightly, the intimacy of it making him feel both bold and protective.

“Glad I could impress you,” he joked softly, trying to maintain a light tone while the weight of the moment pressed in around them. He couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was changing in that instant, their friendship evolving into something deeper, something undeniably thrilling. “You know, after this, I might get a bigger ego,” he added with a laugh, but his eyes held a sincerity that belied the humor. 

As she snuggled closer, burying her face against his neck, he couldn’t help but feel utterly captivated. “You’re too humble for your own good, Eddie,” she whispered, her breath warm against his skin, igniting a spark of something unnameable within him. It was a simple gesture, yet it unraveled him in ways he could never have anticipated. 

For him, the boundaries they’d once tiptoed around began to blur, and as he held her tightly, he realized that he never wanted to let her go. “Just don’t forget it” 

“How could I ever forget you Eddie? You're all I think about.” 

Eddie’s heart hammered against his ribcage, a rapid tempo that mirrored the storm brewing outside. She was right in front of him, a vision of confidence and desire, and he wanted her more than he could articulate. But even as he leaned in to kiss her, there was a subtle tremor in his hands, a physical manifestation of the anxiety swirling in his chest.

“Are you serious?” he asked, the words escaping his lips with a breathless urgency. Doubts flickered in his mind, but her gaze was unwavering, fiery, and absolute.

“Dead serious,” she replied, her voice sultry and sure.

Eddie's heart was still racing as she leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a soft, gentle kiss. He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto hers in surprise. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She smiled and replied, "I'm kissing you," before leaning in again. This time, the kiss was deeper, more intimate. Eddie felt a shiver run down his spine as her lips met his once more. He kissed her back, his lips moving tentatively at first, but as the moment deepened, he found himself getting lost in the sensation.

As they kissed, Eddie's initial uncertainty gave way to a growing sense of desire. His touches became bolder, exploring the curves of her body. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer as their lips moved together in perfect sync. The fears and doubts that had plagued him just moments before began to melt away, replaced by a sense of excitement and anticipation.

As they devoured each other's lips, their hands began to wander, seeking out the curves and contours of each other's bodies. She reached for him, her fingers tracing around his hips, teasing the hem of his boxers with a tantalizing slowness. Meanwhile, his hands glided up her thigh, slowly inching her nightgown upward, exposing the silky smooth skin beneath.

His fingers danced across her butt, tracing the rounded shape with a gentle reverence. The touch sent shivers down her spine, and she responded by tightening her grip on his hips, her thumbs dipping beneath the waistband of his boxers to tease the sensitive skin beneath. Eddie's hands continued their exploration, slowly creeping up under her nightgown to tease at her sides. His fingertips grazed her skin, sending sparks of desire through her body. Finally, he found what he was searching for - her breasts - and he squeezed them gently, feeling their softness and weight in his palms. Her nipples hardened beneath his touch, and she moaned into his mouth as he caressed her. His thumbs began to circle her nipples, teasing them into tight buds as he squeezed and released her breasts in a gentle rhythm. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and she felt herself melting into his touch, her body arching into his hands as she begged for more. Just as it seemed like they were going to combust from the intensity of their passion, Eddie broke away from the kiss, his eyes locking onto hers with a hungry gaze. "Can I take this off?" he asked, his voice low and husky as he tugged gently on the hem of her nightgown. The question hung in the air like a challenge, waiting for her response as they both stood there panting with anticipation.

As she spoke the words, her voice was a sultry whisper, dripping with desire and submission. "You can do whatever you want to me, Eddie," she breathed, her eyes locked on him with a fierce intensity. The phrase was a dare, a challenge, and a promise all rolled into one, and it sent a shiver of excitement down Eddie's spine.

"I want you," he growled, his voice low and husky with need. "I want all of you." The fabric whispered against her skin as it rose higher and higher, exposing her curves and contours to Eddie's hungry gaze. He watched, mesmerized, as her breasts were revealed, followed by the gentle slope of her stomach and the curve of her hips. Finally, the nightgown was pulled over her head and discarded. 

Eddie's eyes drinking in the beauty of her body. He felt his desire surge to new heights as he gazed at her, his hands itching to touch and explore every inch of her skin. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his words barely audible over the sound of their ragged breathing.

As Eddie's eyes continued to drink in the beauty of her body, she began to squirm with anticipation, her skin tingling with desire. "Touch me," she whispered, her voice a desperate plea. "Please, Eddie, touch me."

Eddie's hands hovered over her skin, his fingers twitching with restraint. He wanted to touch her, to explore every inch of her body, but he was hesitant to take the next step. He didn't want to do anything that might make her uncomfortable.

"Touch me," she begged again, her voice growing more urgent. "I want to feel your hands on me."

Eddie's eyes met hers, searching for guidance. "How?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She smiled, a sly smile that sent shivers down his spine. "Pull my panties down," she whispered.

Eddie's hands trembled as he reached for the waistband of her panties. He slowly pulled them down, exposing the soft skin beneath. She lifted, allowing him to slide the panties down her leg and discard them.

As soon as she was naked before him, she reached out and took his hand in hers. She guided it between her legs, placing his fingers against the soft folds of her skin. "Rub me here," she whispered, showing him how to gently circle his fingers around her clit.

Eddie watched in awe as she demonstrated how much pressure to apply, how fast or slow to move his fingers. She gasped with pleasure as he followed her instructions, his fingers dancing across her skin in a gentle rhythm.

As they laid there together, lost in the sensation of their bodies touching, she reached out and took Eddie's other hand in hers. She guided it between her legs once again, this time taking two of his fingers and placing them at the entrance of her opening.

"You can put them inside me," she whispered, looking up at him with eyes that were dark with desire.

Eddie hesitated for a moment before gently pushing his fingers into her body. As they slid inside of her warm flesh ,she let out a moan of pleasure and wrapped herself tightly around him . As Eddie's fingers slid deeper into her, she began to rock her hips back and forth, her body trembling with pleasure. He watched in awe as she moved against him, her eyes closed in ecstasy.

"More," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their ragged breathing. "I want more."

He looked up at her, his eyes wide with wonder. His fingers are still figuring out a rhythm "You like that?" he asked breathlessly. 

Angel nodded, her hips moving against his hand. “Yes Eddie, feels good, keep going," she urged, her voice husky with need. But then she saw the confusion in his eyes and realized he wasn't sure what to do next. So she took matters into her own hands, reaching down and guiding him inside her.

Eddie groaned at the feeling of his fingers being enveloped by her warmth. God it's so tight. I hope I'm not hurting her. I'm gonna try curling my fingers. 

He started to move, slow at first, not wanting to hurt her. But as she began to respond, her moans growing louder, he found his rhythm. “You sound so pretty for me sweetheart”

Hearing how desperate and hot Eddie sounded was almost too much. “Eddie please... feels good”

"So wet," he murmured. His fingers curled slightly, mimicking the action he'd take once inside her. "You're so tight and warm."

Angel whimpered, already aching for his touch. She wanted him to make her feel even better than her own hand could. "Faster," she begged breathlessly. "I need it."

"Mmm you’re so hot," Eddie replied, his words filled with desire. He sped up sliding two fingers between her folds, eliciting a gasp from her lips. "So slippery and soft," he praised, his voice barely above a whisper. His finger began to pump in and out of her, the friction causing her clit to pulse. Her hips started to move on their own, seeking more pressure. 

Angel reached down and wrapped her hand around his wrist, slowing him down. Grinding down on his fingers. “Focus on my clit and just tease my opening eds. Please. It feels so good”

Eddie listened, quickly pumping his fingers inside her and using the other to rub her clit, “Like that?” he huffed out.

Angel’s head fell back and her moans filled the room. “Oh! Eddie Yes! Just like that. Please. Please. I’m gonna cum.” Angel’s body arched off the bed as Eddie's thumb rubbed hard circles her clit while his fingers continued to tease her swollen entrance. The sensation was enough to send a powerful wave of pleasure through her entire being. She could feel her orgasm building, growing stronger with each flick and slide of his fingers. "Yes! Oh god, yes!" she cried out, her voice thick with desire.

Eddie smiled, watching her reaction, and continued to pleasure her exactly how she asked. He followed into her reactions learning just how to push her to the edge, making her writhe beneath him. His thumb danced across her sensitive nub, while his fingers played at her opening, torturously not giving her what she craved, but driving her wild with need all the same.

"Cum on my fingers, Angel," he whispered, his voice low and seductive.

She let out a strangled moan, her hips bucking against his hand. "I... I'm so close," she panted, her nails digging into his arm. Her whole body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending screaming for release.

"That's it, baby, don't hold back," he encouraged, increasing the pressure on her clit. "Let go. I've got you."

With a final flick, he sent her over the edge. Her back arched a silent scream leaving her lips as pure bliss exploded through her. Her walls fluttered around his fingers, pulsing in rhythmic waves as she rode out her climax.

As Eddie watched Angel's face contort in ecstasy, he couldn't help but get lost in the sight of her. She looked like a beautiful goddess, her body writhing and shaking as her internal muscles gripped his fingers. The feeling was unlike anything he'd ever experienced before, completely addictive.

Angel finally fell back onto the bed, panting heavily. Eddie could see how worked up she still was, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she caught her breath. He couldn't take his eyes off her, drinking in the sight of her flushed skin and messy hair.

"Wow, that was something else," he said softly, still lost in thought. 

Angel smiled at him, a warm and inviting expression that seemed to light up her entire face. 

"It was incredible," she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. "You have some skills, Eddie."

He winked at her playfully. "I'm glad my technique is improving." 

Angel let out a soft laugh and reached for him, pulling him down into a deep kiss. Their tongues danced together, tasting and exploring each other's mouths. Eddie could feel his arousal growing with each passing second, his cock hardening and pressing against her thigh.

When they finally broke apart, Angel looked down between them, her eyes widening as she took in the sizable bulge straining against Eddie's boxers. She licked her lips hungrily, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"I think it's time I returned the favor," she purred, her hand sliding over to palm his erection through the thin fabric. "I want to make sure you feel good to Eds. I want to feel your cock in mouth."

Eddie gasped in surprise at her bold words, his eyes widening as he took in the sultry look on her face. He'd never heard Angel talk so dirty before, and it sent a shiver down his spine. The combination of her sweet, innocent demeanor and these naughty, filthy words falling from her lips was intoxicating.

"God, Angel," he panted, his voice strained with desire. "You keep talking like that and I might just explode before you even get started."

She smirked up at him, enjoying the effect she was having. "Is that a challenge?" she teased, her fingers tracing the outline of his cock through his boxers.

Eddie shuddered, feeling himself throb under her touch. "It might be," he admitted, his breathing growing heavier by the second.

Angel didn't waste any more time. She tugged his boxers down, his aching cock springing free. It was thick with a pink tip glistening from all the precum. 

Eddie watched, mesmerized, as Angel wrapped her hand around his length, her hands made him look so big he thought.

She gave him a gentle squeeze, then stroked him upward, her palm gliding over the smooth skin. The sensation was incredible, sending ripples of pleasure through his entire body. 

"Ah, yes," she whispered, her voice husky and full of promise. "This is what I'm talking about."

With that, she leaned forward, her mouth opening to take him in. Eddie felt a jolt of electricity run through him as her lips closed around the head of his cock, the warmth and wetness enveloping him like a dream. He was lost in the sensation, his hips bucking reflexively into her mouth.

Angel moaned softly, the vibrations running up his shaft and making his balls tingle. She began to move her head in a slow, sensual rhythm, her tongue darting out to taste him.

"Holy fuck, Angel," Eddie groaned, his hands coming up to tangle in her hair. "Your mouth feels amazing." He could hardly believe this was happening, that the sweet girl he'd known was now on her knees in front of him, sucking his cock like a pro. The sight alone was almost enough to make him cum right then and there.

"Look at you," he panted, his voice rough with lust. "You’re so fucking sexy, taking my dick like that. You like it, don't you? Like having me in your pretty little mouth." he whimpered out desperately.It was obvious he was losing himself in the pleasure and babbling nonsense. 

Angel hummed in response, the sound sending shivers down his spine. She picked up the pace, her head bobbing faster as she took him deeper. Her cheeks hollowed with the effort, creating a delicious suction that made Eddie's toes curl.

"Damn, sweetheart, you're going to make me cum if you keep doing that," he warned, his breath hitching. "But I don't want it to end yet."

She pulled away, leaving a trail of saliva connecting her lips to the tip of his cock. "Then maybe we should try something different," she suggested, a sly smile playing on her lips. "

Angel laid down on the mattress, “C’mere Eds”

Eddie was excited but also nervous, some of his confidence from just a second ago leaving him, he placed himself between her legs, hovering over her and leaned down to kiss her on the head.  “Tell me if it hurts or if I do something wrong.” she nodded.

He reached between their bodies and grasped himself, pumping it in his hand a few times, lining it up with her opening. He rubbed circles around her opening with his tip. This made her moan, then with a gentle push he inched into her slowly wet heat. She felt tight and silky smooth around him, her inner muscles clutching at him as he filled her completely.  Angel’s breath quickened as Eddie’s movements intensified. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body, stoking the fire within her.  "Faster," she gasped, arching her hips to meet his. "Don't hold back."

Eddie growled low in his throat, picking up the pace. The room filled with the sound of their heavy breathing and skin slapping against skin. Sweat glistened on their bodies as they writhed together, lost in the throes of passion.

Angel wrapped her legs around Eddie’s waist, urging him deeper inside her. She could feel every ridge and vein of his hard length stretching her, filling her completely. The pressure was delicious, teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure.

"Eddie!" she cried out, feeling herself nearly there. With one final thrust, she exploded in a powerful orgasm, her body shuddering beneath him.

"Oh my God, Angel," he panted, his eyes closing briefly as pleasure washed over him. "You feel so fucking good."

Eddie groaned deeply, the sound muffled by her neck where he buried his face. His body tensed and shuddered as he followed her over the edge, he pulled out, spilling himself onto her stomach. 

Both panting heavily as they tried to catch their breath. Slowly, reality seeped back in - the feeling of sweat cooling on their skin, the scent of sex thick in the air. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Then laid beside her. As their bodies slowly relaxed after the moment they had just shared, Eddie's body trembled unexpectedly. It started with a slight shiver, then gradually grew more pronounced, his muscles involuntarily twitching. His chest heaved as he tried to steady his breathing, but something about the vulnerability of the moment made his whole body shake.

Angel noticed immediately, her brows furrowing in concern. "What’s wrong Eddie, you're shaking?" she asked softly, her voice laced with a tenderness that matched the care in her eyes.

Eddie didn’t respond at first, his body still shivering, his fingers curling against the bed. He tried to hide it with a forced laugh, but it came out shaky. "I….I don’t know ." 

Without hesitation, Angel pulled him closer, her hand gently rubbing his back in soothing circles. She kissed his shoulder lightly, her voice full of reassurance. "You don’t have to be tough with me, Eddie. It's okay to feel... whatever you're feeling."

Eddie let out a shaky breath, his body still trembling in her arms. He swallowed hard, trying to find the words, but his voice was a little off like he couldn't quite gather his thoughts. "I don’t know what’s happening. It's like... my body’s just freaking out."

Angel continued to hold him, her hands tracing his skin with a comforting rhythm. "It's okay," she whispered again, her voice soft as she pulled him even closer, her warmth radiating against his. "It’s normal, you’re safe. I’m here."

He clung to her, the tremors beginning to slow, his breathing finding some steadiness as she whispered words of comfort. Eventually, the shaking stopped, and he exhaled deeply, the weight of everything finally sinking in.

"I just like you so much," he murmured again, but this time, there was a deeper sincerity in his tone. "I... I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Angel smiled softly, her hand brushing the damp hair away from his forehead. "You don’t have to know," she said gently. "I’m right here, I’m with you Eddie."

As Eddie’s breathing finally steadied, a crooked grin crept onto his face, though his cheeks still carried a faint flush. He looked at Angel, his eyes warm and glinting with mischief.

 "You know," he said, his voice still a little shaky but laced with humor, "when the snow clears, I think I need to head to the post office."

Angel blinked, confused for only a split second before realization dawned on her. She narrowed her eyes, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "You’re not seriously talking about sending me a letter like Lloyd Dobler, are you?"

Eddie chuckled, the grin spreading wider as he tilted his head back against the pillow. "Busted," he admitted, the laughter in his voice easing the last bit of tension lingering in the room. "But hey, if it worked for Lloyd..."

Angel rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t suppress the smile that followed. "You’re ridiculous," she teased, nudging him lightly. "Do you even know what you’d write in that letter?"

He shrugged, a mock-serious expression crossing his face. "Something profound. Like, ‘You’re amazing, and I’ll stand outside your window with a boombox any day.’"

She laughed, the sound bright and genuine as she leaned into him. "Oh, you’re full of it," she said, shaking her head fondly. "But you know what? I wouldn’t mind getting a letter like that."

Eddie’s grin softened into something more tender as he looked at her, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "Noted," he said, his voice low. "But I think I’ll stick to telling you in person. Feels more... us."

Angel’s smile widened, and she rested her head against his chest again, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "That’s perfect," she whispered, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on his skin. "Just don’t expect me to buy you a boombox."

Eddie laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Deal," he said, holding her tighter.

Thanks so much for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments/tags

[moonxpalace]

You have any Iris pregnancy headcanons, please?

Sure! here they are:

Iris doesn't find pregnancy itself too tiresome. She can live with not sleeping on her back, nausea and weird food cravings. But the worst thing? The hormones. She cries over everything. Once she dropped a fork and said "sorry." And then she realized she said sorry to a fork and cried.

Ash knows Iris can take care of herself, as she has mad acrobatic skills and can navigate through forests without a compass. When she becomes pregnant he can't help with being overprotective of her. Iris thinks he goes too far when he insists of holding her hand when she goes down the stairs.

The doctor had a hard time with finding out the gender during the ultrasound. No matter how much the doctor tried to make the baby move, it was only turning its back on them ...

When they got home, Ash and Iris decided to guess the gender. Ash is 100% sure it's a girl, while Iris thinks it's a boy. Iris justifies it with "since I mostly sleep on my left side, it's a boy. If I slept on my right, it would be a girl. That's what the Elder at the Dragon Village says!" Ash thinks this is ridiculous ... But Iris ended up being right when Oliver was born.

Ash and Iris are invited on some Champion event when she is around 8 month pregnant. None of her elegant dresses fit her, so Iris cries again. She insists that she looks like a big Wailord. Ash tells her lovingly that in that case, she's the most beautiful and majestic Wailord ever ... and Iris just cries even more. Ash doesn't get why she is upset ...

Once Ash had to get up at 2 AM to drive to Viridian City because Iris was craving baby carrots dipped in strawberry yogurt

Ash and Iris didn't have a "Baby shower" or "Gender reveal party" because they found these kind of parties to be pointless and pretentious.

Ash's Dragonite is the most excited about Iris' baby bump. She can't help but hug her more than she usually does

Iris' Dragonite pretends he doesn't care about the baby. But he is actually a big softie and makes sure to obey Iris 100% while she is preggo (to avoid stressing his trainer out)

Iris is close to Delia, but they become even closer during her pregnancy. Delia is super excited about her role as a grandma and will drop everything to come visit Ash and Iris if needed.

Ash is worried that Iris doesn't ask him to do enough. He knows pregnancy isn't easy, and that Iris is stubborn and likes to do things herself. Therefore he does everything she asks him to do - even vacuuming the whole house (which he normally hates)

Whenever they discuss names, Ash and Iris end up joking around. Ash insists on calling the baby "Ashton/ Asher/ Ash jr." if it's a boy, and "Ashley/ Ashlynn" if it's a girl. Iris says that's stupid, but she's laughing and that makes Ash laugh as well. In the end Delia is the one who suggest "Oliver" - and they think it's perfect.

At a point Iris insists on an all natual home birth with no pain relief. Ash is totally against that (What if something goes wrong?? Wouldn't it be much safer in a hospital?) Later on Iris agrees

Iris refuses to be absent from work. She still accepts battling requests and attends Champion meetings most of her pregnancy (as long as she feels fine)

The birth was harder to Ash than to Iris lol

Welp, this became a bit too long. I had more ideas but let's stop here for now!

Thank you for the ask 💕

[holdmymallowsweet]

Headless activities

Look, Nick found a friend to hang out with after he was asked to leave. Cute.

Happy Halloween! 🎃

[blueish-bird]

Chainsaw Man considers the question of what would happen if a 19 year old with autism was forced to parent two semi-immortal teenagers with ADHD

[running-in-the-dark]

aw man. for a minute there I thought I might be allowed to take Ibuprofen again since I stopped taking the antidepressant that I was on. but sadly no, you're also not supposed to take it when you're on the anxiety medication I'm on 😔

[toziers]

had a bad dream and now im in a bad mood. hate how that accidental cranial self-sabotage works

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC My Brother in the Mirror

Damian doesn't like mirrors.

He never mentioned the fact to other members of the family, but they are detectives and vigilantes, it's their job to be observant. Which, after so many years, becomes a habit.

Damian doesn't actively avoid the mirrors - he has a mirror in his bathroom, he didn't express any discomfort over going into a mirror labyrinth at some carnival they've attended (he expressed disgust over taking part in something so stupid, in his words, but that's a whole another story), and he actually spent a few minutes in front of the funhouse mirrors when no one was looking, watching his own reflection distort in various ways. He also has no problems with his self-image - he doesn't mind pictures of him taken at any time (unless it's Tim, but that's, again, a whole another story), he's drawn a few self-portraits that were rather accurate and he liked them.

He just doesn't like mirrors. For some reason.

His family, both close and extended, never questioned it. They did some gentle research to see if the dislike was caused by some kind of problem Damian was experiencing without telling anyone, but when they found no proof of that, they've just decided it was some quirk of his. Everyone has quirks. Dick doesn't like eating cereal like a normal person, Tim despises sleep, Steph is at war with any color other than purple.

That is, until one day, Tim witnesses Damian sitting in front of a mirror.

He is not even aware of it - the whole family is having a game night, and through some arguments and rearrangements on the couch, Damian ends up sitting on the left side of it, where his back is turned to one of the three mirrors in the room. Tim, who's lost the last round, is slumping in an armchair nearby, pointedly looking away from the screen where Damian and Jason are enthusiastically competing over the first place in Mario Cart. Of course, Tim can't just not watch it since he needs to know their strategies. But turning back around would also be admitting defeat.

The solution? Easy, watch the screen through the mirror.

Which is when he notices it.

Damian in the mirror doesn't act the same as Damian in the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Tim can see the real Damian moving around, shoving Jason with his elbow, fully concentrated on the game, and yelling something. Damian-in-the-mirror is sitting unnaturally still, the back of his head over the couch unmoving.

Tim forgets all about the game when Damian's reflection starts to turn around. Slowly and carefully, eerie in the way the horror movies are, the boy in the mirror turns his head around like an owl, his neck twisting inhumanely.

His eyes are green. Green like the toxic waste, like Jason's madness, like acid in cartoons, like the Waters of Lazarus.

Damian in the mirror smiles, his unblinking, gliwing eyes fixed on Tim, and his teeth are sharp and pointy, and there are too many of them, humans can't smile this wide.

"-im? Tim!" A hand nudges him in the shoulder, and Tim looks away from the mirror, finding Dick standing over him. The noise of the game room returns all at once, and, wait, when did it become quiet for Tim?.. He must have a strange expression on his face because Dick's easy smile falls slightly, and he frowns, "Is everything okay?"

Tim looks back to the mirror, but the green-eyed boy in the mirror is gone, and the mirror only reflects Damian as he is: sitting on the couch.

"Yeah," Tim shakes his head and forces a smile on his lips, "I just zoned out."

"Okay," Dick pats him on the shoulder and gives him the controller, "It's your turn now."

Tim takes the controller and turns around, facing the screen. Tim throws a quick glance at Damian, who had slid down on the couch so his head would not be in the reflection anymore. Tim sees the cold, warning hint to his eye, a clear do not speak of it message.

Tim doesn't like that the mirror is now behind him.

[whateveriwant]

Task force 141 reacting to their very pregnant wife still trying to clean, cook etc

This turned more into ‘Task force 141 preventing their very pregnant wife from trying to clean, cook, etc’ lmaooooo I hope that's alright

Price

HA! Good one!

No seriously, it's actually hilarious that you think you'd do anything for yourself when your hubby's around

That man has been waiting on you hand and foot since you first got together. So now that you're pregnant and you think he'd let you so much as lift a finger? You must have a serious case of pregnancy brain, sweetheart

Price is doing all the cooking, the cleaning, the running errands, etc. throughout the entirety of your pregnancy (and at least the first several months postpartum)

He's kept you practically bed bound these last few months to the point where you think there's a perfect indent of your body molded into the mattress

Seven months in, he's suddenly called away to a quick mission halfway across the globe, and you think finally you'll get some of your autonomy back...

Well, think again because who should show up at your door the next morning than your mother-in-law herself, ready to pick up where her son left off

She came at the behest of your husband, of course, and was armed with a detailed set of care instructions

What does your husband think you are? Some sort of one-of-a-kind, priceless artifact that needs special handling? (Actually that's exactly what you are. Price-less… I'll see myself out 🚶🏻‍♀️)

Ghost

When it comes to having some semblance of independence during your pregnancy, Ghost will give you a bit of a longer leash than Price, but only just so

You’re going for a walk around the neighborhood? Hold on, let him grab his coat to join you. Or you're going into the backyard to tend the garden? He'll pull the weeds while you water the plants

But when it comes to letting you do certain things, there are some hard nos that he will absolutely not budge on

You try to use a stepladder to reach the top of the cupboard? Stop! You'll break your neck! You try to pick up anything heavier than 10 pounds? Stop! Give it here! You try to drive?... Don't even fuckin' think about it, precious.

The farther along your pregnancy progresses, the better he gets at predicting (and intercepting) your next move

You were gonna do laundry today? Well, wouldn't you know, he's already got a load going in the washer. You were about to make dinner? Well shucks, he just ordered takeaway from that Greek place you love

His ability to read your mind is honestly impressive once you get past how damn annoying you find it. Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean you're incapable of fending for yourself, and you're tired of him acting as if otherwise

But really, you can never get mad at anything he does for you. After all, what kind of a husband would he be if he didn't take care of his missus and your little one?

Soap

If you take Ghost’s cautiousness, mix it with Price’s thoroughness, and crank it up to an 11, you get Soap

From the moment he found out you were pregnant, he put your house into full lockdown mode, stopping just short of booby trapping the front door in case you got any funny ideas

You want some fresh air? Just open a window. You want to go for a walk and stretch your legs? Just take a few turns about the living room like you're some Austenian heroine

Don't let him catch you doing any kind of physical labor, because so help him Jesus he will grab a spray bottle and use it like you're a feral alleycat he's trying to house-train (he wouldn't really... but don't test him)

You try to unload the dishwasher? Ehrr! Wrong move. You try to remake the bed? Ehrr! Nice try. You try to mop up your own mess. Ehrr! Enough already. You try to– OCH, WOULD YE BLOODY SIT DOWN, WOMAN?!

For nine long months during his requested leave from work, your husband is attached to you like some kind of loving, smothering barnacle

But doesn't he miss his job, or the lads for that matter? What if the world needs saving? What will they do without him?

Well, (in his exact words) fuck the rest of the world! You're his world, bonnie, and he'll give you everything you could ever wish for and then some

Gaz

By far, you have the most independence with Gaz than you would with any of the other three men… at least, at the beginning of your pregnancy, that is

Once you get to around five or six months he becomes just as helicopter-y as all the others; he's just ever so slightly more bearable, perhaps

There's lots of peeking his head around the corner to check on you throughout the day or appearing seemingly out of thin air whenever you're doing something he'd rather you wouldn't

You've lost count of the number of times you've been in the middle of cooking or hanging up the laundry or whatever and his hand has suddenly appeared out of nowhere, gently taking the object from you before directing you to sit and rest

And like, look. He knows you can handle yourself. He knows you could conquer the whole world if you wanted to. That's one of the things he loves about you the most

But seeing you like this – so fragile, so vulnerable, so beautiful and soft and pregnant with his child; his child – it just… It makes him…

He just needs to do these things for you, alright, love? Just let him take care of you, please? Would you let him do that?

You already have so much you have to carry. Let him ease some of the burden off your shoulders. Let him do these small things for you because they don't even compare to all that you're doing for him 🥲

[muzansfangs]

You tell them you got a brazilian wax by a guy.

Starring: Choso Kamo x f!reader; Kento Nanami x f!reader; Higuruma Hiromi x f!reader;

Format: short-imagines;

Warnings: nsfw, dirty innuendos, fluff, jealousy, established relationships, nipple play, spanking, playfully biting the partner arses, oral sex (reader!receiving), vaginal sex, breeding kink, creampie, face sitting, unprotected sex;

Plot: A trend on Tik Tok made you plot a devious plan to make your beloved boyfriend going mad. He knew you had an appointment for a brazilian wax. He obviously assumed you were going to be assisted by a woman. How will he react, when you tell him it was a man? Will his jealousy go too far? Will your prank get you in a bad situation?

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Choso Kamo.

Choso’s lips glided down your neck, nipping, sucking onto the flesh with the same care a potter would handle his fragile new creation. This man was genuinely head over heels for you. Ever since his little brother had introduced you two, Choso had found a new reason to live and, supposedly, be a better person. He had learned so much about human interactions, about feelings and even about intimacy. While he was not properly addicted to sex, this man loved being inside of you more than anything. He needed to touch your soft skin, he needed your warmth around him. That evening was not that different from an ordinary one.

His hands were cupping your breasts, fondling them, thumb and index rolling your handened nipples to elicit from your throat the soft moans he loved to hear from you so much. You did not fail his expectations. You cried out, head lolling back against his shoulder in ecstasy.

“Sing for me, babe” Choso mumbled, your insides clenching around his shaft deliciously as he slowly bucked his hips up to stimulate you.

The squelching sounds filling the room were making your head spin, eyes fluttering to enjoy the sensations to its fullest. You hated pissing him off, you really did, but above anything else you loathed causing his heart to ache. Still, that trend was too tempting not to try it on your sweet boyfriend.

You hummed, sinking down further onto his cock to meet his lazy thrusts “Louder? I don’t want the neighbours to complain again, Choso” you replied breathless, tilting your head to the side to kiss his cheek. Your hand reached towards his left hand, giving it a squeeze, before guiding it down towards your pubes.

Choso groaned, fingers grazing the smooth skin in delight, while he reached down to flick your throbbing clitoris dilegently “They can burn in Hell, baby. — he promptly said, smiling against your neck — All I care about it you and this sweet pussy of yours. Gosh, I can’t wait to taste your orgasm later” he praised you, causing you to shriek for a deeper thrust of his hips.

“Yeah? Is it that sweet, babe? I got to tell Akio then. I couldn’t describe its flavour to him today” you blurted out, only for Choso’s smile to disappear.

Choso.exe stopped working.

His movements halted, his eyes darkening as he grasped your chin to turn your head in his direction. Lying to his face was going to be hard, especially since he had put up such a puppy face that your heart ached in your chest.

“Akio? Who’s Akio?” Choso asked you, his voice low and a tad serious.

“The guy who waxed me today. Did I forget to mention him to you?”.

“Akio is a guy, isn’t he?”.

You giggled, booping his nose affectionately “Sure he is, silly. What’s with that?”.

Choso huffed, the tips of his ears turning pink as he embraced your tighter “A guy… Did you let another boy look at your pussy? Babe, why? Tell me that’s not true! You would never let anyone touch your—” he wept and you could swear tears brimmed in his eyes. Oh no, that was enough. You could not keep it up anymore.

You sighed, shaking your head vigorously “No! It’s a joke, Choso, please! I’ve been an idiot! Forgive me, baby! Look at me” you interrupted him, pressing your forehead against his one.

Choso relaxed, his breath still kind of irregular as he palmed his forehead in distress. You had really scared him. He could not still bear with jealousy. Apparently, he was not the type to go mad. Choso was too kind-hearted for that. Dealing with feelings was still hard for him. His lips captured yours, gently, holding you close as he relished the feeling of being in your arms.

“Don’t do it again” he whispered and you nodded your head in agreement. Poor Choso, struggling with jealousy.

Higuruma Hiromi.

This man was born to give you oral. Underneath you, head squeezed by the fat of your thighs, your dripping core bare for him to lavish with his tongue and your clitoris for his nose to stroke, Hiromi could happily die. The sweet sounds you made, the way you rolled your hips for facilitate the way he lapped at your folds with flat of his tongue were such a delicacy. If he was asked about a good way to die, the stressed out lawyer would have decidedly declared you his designated executioner and welcomed your pussy as his deathbed.

Now, sitting on his face, hands scrambling up to hold onto the metal bars of the bedhead, you whimpered out his name in bliss. The pleasure was so intense your obnubilated mind was neglecting the plan, your thirst for him not quenching in the slightest when you felt the tip of his tongue slip in between your smooth, slippery folds.

“H-Hiromi! Gosh, don’t stop” you drawled out, back arching as his hands, sprawled over your arses, squeezed onto the rounded globes in unbridled possessiviness.

He had no intention to stop, not even as his chin and nose were coated onto a glistening mixture of your juices and his own saliva. This was not a simple way to cherish your moments with him, this was downright his favorite addiction. Hiromi did not really care if you skipped your appointment with the beautician. He frankly appreciated how much care of your body you had, but he had never asked you to get a wax. Never. Still, when you did, he could not deny how much he loved the way his tongue smoothly skimmen over your silky folds.

“Ride my nose harder, baby” he rasped, his cock twitching in his pants as you shifted upwards, following his command eagerly.

You inhaled sharply, eyes downcast to peer down at your husband’s face barely visible from underneath your thighs. The timing was perfect. Eyes screwed shut, Hiromi was gradually guiding your hips back and forth to help you rub your swollen clitoris over his prominent nose. Waves of electricity ran through your veins, as you let out a pathetic whine. Now, or never, you had to drop the bomb before it was too late.

“I don’t think there’s a single hair left, right?” you breathed out, Hirmoni’s teeth nipping gently at your labia with a huff.

“Not even a single one… — your husband rumbled out — Not that I’d mind anyway” he whispered, mouth opening to leave wet kisses on the inside of your thigh. You two were making a mess.

You shivered, biting down onto your lower lip to concentrate better before shattering that poor man’s world with a single sentence “Yeah, I know, Hiroshi did such an amazing job”.

Hiromi’s assualt on your heat ended instantly. Hooded eyes opening, a knot creasing his forehead, he glanced up at you inquisitively “You meant Hiroko, not Hiroshi. I sincerely hope so”.

“No, I meant Hiroshi. — you countered back, breath still uneven as you wiped away the sweat beading your forehead with the back of your hand — Hiroko got down with a cold, he’s in charge of the beauty center now. I probably forgot to fill you up with the news” you replied, trying to sound convincing as Hiromi just stared blankly up at you.

Maybe it was just your impression, but the atmosphere around you, once charged with sexual tension, grew gloomy, almost chilling. His finger slipping into your core all of sudden made you choke out a screech of surprise, pleasure and discomfort engulfing your lower abdomen as you gawked down at him.

“Don’t talk. Not a single word unless I demand you to speak” Hiromi flatly said, curling his finger into you unforgivingly slowly.

You gaped in shock, legs almost giving up as he shoved another finger into your sappy hole, his eyes darkening as he assessed your reaction. He could not believe you had waited up until that very moment to tell him such a thing! You, his muse, his reason to wake up in the morning, you had let another man touch his nest.

“Did this man touch my home? Did you let him graze his fingers over your pubes, down to your labia, spreading them for him to enjoy the view?” he interrogated you, his tone sharp and cold, taking the same edge it did when he was in a courtroom. This was a problem. You knew you had to stop that circus.

You cried out, lips parted, as you shook your head “H-Hiro! It was a joke! It was a joke, I swear!” you fretted, watching with glee as his expression relaxed and he slided his fingers out of you.

You did not register how he slipped out from between your thighs, pushing your face down onto the pillow as he bit down onto your arse. All you knew was that, when he finally was deep inside of you, his mouth neared your ear and he got back at you from your silly staunt “Let me fill you up with something better than a fib, hm?”.

Nanami Kento.

Large and calloused hands gripping your hipbones, cock stretching you out deliciously, you did your best not to reach your climax right away. Kento Nanami, the best partner you could have ever asked for, was taking his sweet time with you. His hips smacked against yours in a firm, steady pace, as you almost drooled over the polished wooden surface of the desk.

Sex after he came back from his small work trips was the best. Passionate, intense, the lust blinding you two all of a sudden. This time, it had washed over you, when he had seen you saunter towards him all dolled up for a dinner out. A dinner he had promised you before leaving and a dinner you were probably going to be late for.

“I missed you. Wholeheartedly. Waking up alone sucks” Kento stated, burying himself into you to the hilt.

You moaned out, nails scraping the wood as you pushed back against him, squeezing him up perfectly to enjoy the way his girth made itself space within your walls. You were absolutely in a frenzy, your make-up ruined, as you rested your cheek against the desk.

“I missed you too, oh so much” you replied, breath uneven as he leaned down to plant a kiss onto your nape, thrusting slowly into you, making love instead of fucking. This felt just perfect, so perfect that, if it was not for him speaking up, you would have forgotten completely about the devious plan you had in mind.

“You even waxed for me, huh?” he whispered, causing you to tighten up around him again and for your husband to grunt in pleasure.

“You shall t-thank Noboru for the last minute appointment he agreed on” you blurted out, Kento’s eyes widening at your words. A shot through the heart would have felt less painful.

A man had seen his wife’s pussy? Oh, that was impossible. He was probably too tired and had misheard your words. The Hell with that, he was never tired when he was with you. Kento Nanami had heard you correctly. He cleared his throat, hips still, whilst he gazed down at you.

“Noboru?”.

You swallowed forcefully, glancing at him from above your shoulder “Yeah?”.

“Are you perhaps implying you lied down on a couch, legs wide open, to let Noboru touch your pussy?” he inquired, voice calm and collected, even if his grip on your hips was getting bruising.

You nodded your head “And what if I did?”.

“Then I will accompany you the next time you want to get waxed. — Kento replied, giving you a warning thrust that made your breath hitch in your thraot — You know, I would not want our dear Noboru to just imagine the filthy sounds your pussy makes, when I fuck it. Let’s give him a show, darling. What do you say? Would he like to watch me fuck you?” he asked you, resuming his relentless pace.

His hand landing harshly onto your rear caused you to whimper out, sweat beading your forehead, as you regretted your choice to tease your beloved husband. His silent, latent jealousy was turning out to he too hot to handle. He caught a glimpse of you trying to open up your mouth to admit it was all a lie, but he shushed you with another spank.

“Hush, sweetheart. — he cooed, your whines a melody he would have never get tired of — I know you were joking. But we both were serious about trying to have a kid, right? Let’s start tonight. Fuck the dinner, I’ll cook for you later” he rasped out, increasing the pace of his thrusts.

Oh, dear, your wobbly legs and the hot seed dribbling down the inside of your thighs were the signs the only two men allowed to see you naked were your husband and your gynecologist.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! I always feel so giddy when I write for JJK. Hopefully, you’re going to enjoy this piece. I don’t think you guys will get a part two soon, but I do not close the door to that possibility.

Anyway, likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

until next,

X O X O

TAGS: @axesfordays @areyouflying

[stylesispunk]

'Hands in the hair of somebody named Marcus'

Marcus Acacius x f!reader

next part

summary: the cursed blood of Geta and Caracalla runs through your veins sealing your fate. However, the General Acacius is willing to fight for you.

w.c: 5k>

warnings: angst, violence, power imbalance,and fluff.

a/n: I had this one in my drafts but after watching gladiator ii twice. I had to finish it and write about my beloved General Acacius because he deserves it. I hope you like it. This may have a part ii depending on its performance. PLEASE DON'T BE MEAN. Reblogs and comments are always. appreciated 💌

| dividers by @/saradika-graphics |

Inhale.

Exhale.

Breathe in, breath out.

There was it, the rattle breathing inside Marcus Acacius lungs. The way life has turned out for him felt like cuts all over his skin.

Sometimes he felt he could even breath from how bloody his hands were. How dirty his name felt to his own honor. How salty his tears felt down his cheeks every night. Every time he closed his eyes at night, the screams pierced through his ears.

Mothers mourning their children.

Men mourning their wives.

Families destroyed.

All because of him.

All because he must have served those two spoiled kids so called emperors of Rome.

And he still couldn't wrap his mind around the idea of you, someone so pure and kind was cursed to share the same blood as them.

Every time he came back to the city. He witnessed on first hand, how badly you were treated by them.  The laughs, the humiliation, the segregation, and how your voice had been silenced just for you to be unwillingly part of a legacy that felt like your back being split in two.

Marcus was aware of the adoration people felt for you, how your kindness had reached to every single person in the empire. People loved you, but you were nothing more than a puppet under their fingers.

And he felt pity for you.

He could see the way your eyes seemed lost in the arena, in the way your hands trembled where Geta or Caracalla looked at you with disgust when you didn't approve of the madness they had arisen under their control.

You were the opposite of them.

You were Kind.

Kind as no one had been on here for so many years. You shared the same dream of Marcus Aurelio.

An empire for the world and a refuge for those in need.

and Marcus looked at you with tenderness in his heart from afar.

Most of the time you didn't acknowledge him. He knew you weren't really fond of him or the idea of him leading armies to claim cities under the glory of Rome.

For you, he was just a general repeating the same cycle of madness.

And you didn't acknowledge him until Geta slapped you on front of him for not showing your gratitude towards him after his returning from battle.

The sting lingered on your cheek after his slap, not from the force but from the humiliation of it. The room fell silent, the tension arose like flames to the fire. Geta and Caracalla, with their arrogant disdain, seemed to punish your perceived disobedience.

But Marcus? His expression shifted, subtle, yet profound. His sharp gaze, so often unreadable, burned with an intensity that wasn’t anger but something close to defiance. He stepped forward, his towering presence demanding the attention of everyone in the room.

“Enough,” Marcus said, his voice calm and gentle, the command laced with quiet fury. The word carried weight, a warning not to be ignored. Your brothers exchanged a glance, clearly displeased but unwilling to challenge the general directly. They turned and left, leaving muttered curses in the air.

The room fell silent once again, and you found yourself standing alone with General Acacius. Your hand hovering your cheek, the skin still warm from Geta’s punishment. You didn’t look up at first, embarrassed not just by the slap but by the realization that Marcus had witnessed it. You had worked so hard to ignore him, to keep him at a distance, but now, there was no avoiding him.

“You didn’t deserve that,” he said softly, his voice a startling contrast to the authority he had wielded moments ago.

You finally raised your eyes to meet his, expecting pity but finding something else entirely different, something softer. “It doesn’t matter,” you murmured, attempting to dismiss it, but he shook his head.

“It does,” Marcus said, taking a step closer. “You shouldn’t have to endure this, least of all from them. They’re your blood”

His words hung in the air, and for the first time, you saw him not as the general who commanded armies in your brothers’ name but as a man standing apart from their cruelty. He wasn’t like them, not entirely.

And perhaps, you thought, he never had been.

Your gaze lingered on Marcus for a moment longer, his eyes searching yours as if waiting for you to say something—anything. But you couldn’t. Your throat tightened, and you turned away, moving to the window to avoid the weight of his attention.

“I don’t need your protection,” you said, though the words came out softer than you intended. “You’ve done enough by speaking against them. They will get under your skin for it.”

Marcus hesitated, his heavy footsteps echoing as he approached you. “You shouldn’t have to thank me for doing what’s right.”

His words made your chest ache. When was the last time anyone had done what was “right” for you? You stared out at the gardens beyond the window, their beauty feeling distant, unreachable. Your brothers had never cared about right or wrong, only power.

“I don’t understand you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “You fight for them. You serve them. And yet…”

“And yet I see who they truly are,” Marcus interrupted gently. “I serve Rome, not their cruelty. There’s a difference.”

You turned to face him, his nearness almost startling. For the first time, his presence didn’t feel overwhelming. Instead, it felt… grounding. Safe. He stood tall, but his expression was open, waiting for you to respond.

“They’ll hate you for standing up for me,” you said, your tone cautious. “They don’t forgive things like that.”

“Let them hate me,” Marcus replied without hesitation. “I won’t stand by and let them treat you as they do.”

The conviction in his voice sent a shiver through you. You wanted to argue, to remind him that opposing your brothers would bring nothing but trouble, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you found yourself studying him. His broad shoulders, the sharp lines of his face, and the way his eyes softened when they rested on you.

“I don’t need anyone fighting my battles,” you said, though even you weren’t sure if you believed it. “I’ve survived this long on my own.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” he replied, stepping closer, his voice low but steady. “You deserve better than survival.”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words pressing against you. Before you could respond, Marcus straightened, his demeanor shifting as if sensing he had said too much. He nodded once, a gesture of respect, before stepping back.

“I should leave you to rest,” he said. “You’ve been through enough today”

Your breath caught at the sound of his voice, so steady and sincere, the words lingering in the air like a balm to your frayed nerves. You wanted to reach out, to say something and stop him, but you hesitated, unsure of what held you back.

Marcus took another step away, his broad shoulders tense, as though leaving you was harder for him than he let on. His words, though respectful, carried a tone of finality that made your heart twist.

“I’ll see you soon,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost reluctant. He bowed slightly, taking your hand in his, and kissing it as his dark eyes met yours, “My lady.”

As if his words had worked as a kind of manifesto, the “soon” came no long after.

There you were in the gardens, barefoot, with your wild hair looking at the moon shining over the town you had been forced to call it home.

Marcus could see from your posture to your void eyes when you were there in the middle of your brothers, faking enthusiasm, while inside your bones you hate with passion this torturous show.

You didn't wish to be cruel to the world but kind.

You didn't wish to see blood coming out from innocent men who had fallen prey under the hands of the cruelty of the roman empire.

And you were exhausted of seeing and hearing the cheering of people celebrating death as a spectacle.

You didn't want this to be your life but just a nightmare you were going to wake from too soon.

And now, as Marcus could see the moon reflecting on your face. He was able to see through the golden jewelry and the soft material of your dress, he could see a soul pleading to the moon to set her free.

Something must have alerted you. You turned around facing him hiding under his cloak.

"General Acacius?" You whispered, closing your eyes a bit to take his form under the soft light of the moon.

"My lady" he replied softly, with respect to his tone.

“What are you doing here?” you breathed, your voice trembled under his gaze.

He hesitated for mere seconds, his gaze intense as it locked onto yours. “I could ask you the same, my lady,” he replied, a trace of sweetness in his tone. “It seems even those closest to the emperors need to escape from time to time.”

A silence fell between you, charged with a tension that both thrilled and unsettled you. The few stolen glances you’d shared over the past days had spoken volumes, but you had never dared to hope his heart could be beating as fast as yours in your presence.

You turned around again, your back to him. "I love coming here to look at the moon. " You spoke, breaking the silence "This seems to be the only place my brothers haven't tainted yet."

"How they don't know about this place?"

"My father sent this place to be built for his only daughter." You replied, and Marcus could notice how the corners of your lips graced with a smirk, even from behind. "A place for her to be a girl."

"What do you mean?"

"You know, General. Women seem to be useless for having a voice, less for ruling an Empire. Everything I can do is stay here and feel like I own something." You hold your voice for a minute, “I’m just a statue waiting to crumble.”

Marcus didn't reply to your words and if it wasn't for the sound of his steps getting closer you would have thought he left.

You could see his outline from the corner of your eyes, the way his face had been marked by cruel events you despise. A red mark on his cheek, a few scars on his neck and for brown eyes that contrasted from his hard exterior, shinning under the same moon as yours.

"How did you find this place, General?" You asked, bow fully looking at him. You were wondering how your brothers never knew about this place but him had been the first man to find it, just after his return.

He took a brief look at you from the corners of his eyes. "I would say that something brought me here," he paused for a moment, "but it seems like it was you, my lady."

You had to hold your breath for a moment. You didn't expect such words from Marcus. He was the beloved general of Rome. But to your eyes he was still a man who had built his honor from cruelty or that was what you thought.

"I don't believe so." You replied, despite the rapid beating of your heart, you didn't want to be fooled by a man with soft brown eyes and a heart that seems to be kind. "I do not desire a man to follow me, not less one who is the puppet of the cruelty of all this cold nonsense."

"My lady…"

"Please, you may go now." you said, turning your gaze back to the moon.

Marcus didn’t leave immediately. Instead, he lingered in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the faint torchlight flickering in the hall. His hand rested on the edge of the door, his knuckles tight and pale as if he were restraining himself from saying something he would later regret.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the crackling of the embers in the hearth. The tension between you felt almost unbearable, a quiet battle waged in silence.

“I know what you think of me,” he finally said, his voice softer now, like the hush of a secret shared in the dark. “You see a man of blood and iron, one who serves an empire that devours cities for the Glory of Rome.” He exhaled slowly, almost as if gathering the strength to continue. “You’re not wrong to think that. There are nights when I wonder if all of this is worth it, if I am worth anything beyond my sword.”

His admission struck something deep within you, though you kept your face turned toward the moon. You refused to let him see the small crack forming in your carefully constructed armor.

“Then why stay?” you asked quietly, your voice carrying an edge of challenge. “Why continue to serve a cause you doubt?”

“I stay because I must,” Marcus said without hesitation. “It is all I have known, and it is all that has been asked of me. But you…” His voice faltered, and you felt the weight of his gaze, though you didn’t dare meet it. “You are different. You are everything this empire is not, kind, unyielding. Someone like you should be the one ruling Rome, the princess.”

You chuckled at the statement “My brothers would send me to death before I’ll have the chance to sit on that throne.”

Your fingers tightened around the fabric of your dress. His words shouldn’t have this effect on you, yet they lingered, stirring something unfamiliar.

“And that is why you should go,” you said, more firmly now. “You’re talking nonsense”

Marcus took a step closer, his steps echoing faintly against the cobblestones “Perhaps I do not belong here,” he said, his tone unwavering, “but that does not mean I will walk away so easily and let this empire fall under your brother’s madness.”

You turned to him then, unable to ignore the quiet determination in his voice. His eyes, those soft brown eyes that had once seemed so dangerous, now held a sincerity you hadn’t expected. For the first time, you saw not a general, but a man, a man who carried the weight of his choices and the burden of his doubts.

“You think you can change my mind?” you asked, your tone sharp despite the unease stirring in your chest.

“No,” Marcus admitted, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “But I hope, one day, I can show you what I am talking about.”

Before you could reply, he bowed his head slightly, as a gesture of respect rather than submission, and turned to leave.

As the door closed behind him, you stood in the quiet of the garden, your heart beating fast while his words played over in your head.

The arena buzzed with the deafening roar of the crowd, their excitement spilling into the air as dust kicked up from the floor below. You sat stiffly behind Geta and Caracalla, their laughter and sharp whispers grating against your ears. This was how it always was, trapped in their own world, watching their cruelty unfold.

Today, the games were bloodier than usual, the violence more drawn out, as if they relished every clash of blades and every cry of pain. You tried to ignore the chaos, your gaze drifting to the far horizon, where freedom felt like a distant dream in the blue sky.

But then, a movement to your right drew your attention. You turned your head just slightly, your breath catching when you saw Marcus approaching. His expression was calm, unreadable, though his eyes softened ever so slightly when they met yours. Without a word, he settled into the seat next to you.

“General,” you greeted, your voice low.

“My lady,” he replied, his tone equally soft, though there was a subtle warmth in it.

For a while, neither of your spoke. The sounds of the crowd and the clash of weapons filled the silence between you, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one.

“They love this,” Marcus finally said, his voice barely audible over the noise.

You didn’t reply, too focused on fidgeting with the material of your dress, your fingers twisting the fabric in small, anxious movements. The tension in your shoulders was noticeable, your gaze fixed on the arena below, though it was clear your mind was far from the bloodshed.

Marcus noticed. He always noticed. After a moment of hesitation, his hand moved, gentle, placing it over yours. His touch was warm, steady, and it stopped the restless motion of your fingers.

Startled, you glanced at him, your breath catching as you saw the softness in his expression. There was no judgment, no pity, only quiet reassurance. For a moment, you forgot where you were, the chaos of the arena fading into the background.

But the moment didn’t last.

“Ah, what’s this?” Geta’s voice cut through the din, sharp and mocking.

You flinched, quickly pulling your hand away as Geta turned in his seat, his eyes narrowing as he looked between you and Marcus. His lips curled into a sly grin, the kind that sent a chill down your spine.

“Well, well,” he drawled, leaning closer as if sharing a secret. “Our dear sister has caught the attention of the great general. How… intriguing.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his gaze unwavering as he stared ahead.

Geta leaned back in his seat, his grin widening as an idea seemed to spark in his mind. He turned to Caracalla, nudging him with an elbow. “Brother, I think we haven’t been too generous with our sister, have we?”

Caracalla raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What do you suggest we could do for her?”

Geta’s grin turned wicked, his eyes gleaming with malice. “A little incentive for the games. Let the gods decide her fate.”

Your blood ran cold as you realized what he was suggesting. “Geta, don’t—”

He ignored you, standing abruptly and raising his arms to address the crowd.

“Citizens of Rome!” Geta’s voice boomed over the noise, silencing the arena. “Today, we have a special reward for our brave gladiators. A prize worthy of their strength and valor.”

Caracalla caught on quickly, his laughter echoing through the stands. “Indeed, a prize unlike any other,” he added, his voice dripping with amusement.

You shot to your feet, panic rising in your chest. “Geta, stop this!”

He turned to you, his smile cruel. “Sit down, sister. This is for the glory of Rome.”

You didn’t move, but your voice faltered, your protests drowned out by the cheers of the crowd as Geta announced his decree.

“The victor of this fight,” he declared, “shall win not only their freedom but also the hand of our beloved sister.”

The crowd erupted in applause and cheers, their excitement deafening.

Beside you, Marcus remained seated, his expression unreadable. But you could see the storm brewing in his eyes, the muscles in his jaw clenching as he processed what had just happened.

And for the first time, you saw something in him that you hadn’t before, a quiet, burning fury, one that made you wonder just how far he would go to defy your brothers.

"They offered me as a price." You whispered to Marcus who was offering his arm for you to hold, as you tried to keep your composure.

You felt humiliated.

You felt that men owned you and despised the feeling.

Marcus didn’t respond right away. His arm remained steady, extended for you to hold, a silent offer of support. His face, though unreadable, betrayed hints of a restrained anger—anger that wasn’t directed at you, but at the cruelty of your brothers, the twisted spectacle they had made of your dignity.

“They did,” he finally murmured, his voice low but firm, so only you could hear. “And they will answer for it.”

You hesitated, your hand trembling slightly before resting on his arm. The gesture was subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone else, but between the two of you, it felt like a silent pact. Marcus guided you to sit back down, his movements deliberate, as if shielding you from the prying eyes of the crowd.

“Hold your head high,” he said quietly, leaning just close enough for his words to reach you. “You are not a prize. You are a queen in all but name.”

His words, though softly spoken, struck a chord deep within you. They carried a weight that steadied the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm you—humiliation, anger, and a raw, aching vulnerability you despised feeling. You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to sit straighter, your gaze fixed on the arena even as your chest burned with resentment.

The fight began, the clash of swords and the roar of the crowd filling the air. The gladiators fought with a ferocity that was almost unbearable to watch, knowing that your fate hung in the balance of their blades. You despised every second of it, despised the men in the arena who saw you as a reward to be claimed, despised the crowd who cheered for your subjugation, and most of all, despised your brothers for orchestrating this humiliation.

And yet, as the fight dragged on, your attention kept flickering to Marcus. He hadn’t moved, his posture rigid, his gaze fixed on the arena with an intensity that made your heart race. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, fingers tightening with every blow exchanged below.

“They cannot do this,” you whispered, your voice trembling with barely contained anger. “They cannot decide my life like this.”

“They can try,” Marcus replied, his tone like steel. “But they will not succeed.”

His words were cryptic, but there was something in his voice, a quiet, unshakable resolve that made you glance at him. For a moment, you wondered if he already had a plan, if his mind was racing with strategies to undo the cruelty your brothers had unleashed.

The fight ended abruptly, the crowd roaring as the victor emerged, bloodied but triumphant. Your stomach churned as the man was announced, his grin wide as he looked up to the podium where you sat. You felt Marcus tense beside you, his hand gripping his sword so tightly you feared it might snap.

“Don’t,” you whispered urgently, sensing the storm about to break within him. “Please, Marcus.”

But he didn’t respond, his gaze locked on the victor below. And for the first time, you wondered just how far Marcus would go, not just to defy your brothers, but to protect you from their cruelty.

The victor's triumphant roar echoed through the arena, and the crowd erupted into wild cheers. You couldn’t bear to look at the man below, his eyes alight with the promise of his prize—you. Your stomach churned with revulsion, and your breathing quickened, panic clawing at your chest.

“Come,” Marcus said quietly, his voice cutting through the noise. His hand found yours again, firm but not forceful, and this time, you didn’t hesitate to take it. The heat of his palm against yours grounded you, gave you a tether to hold onto as you stood on unsteady legs.

You didn’t wait for your brothers’ gloating remarks or the smug expressions on their faces. Without a word, you let Marcus guide you away, his presence shielding you from the leering eyes of the crowd. The noise of the arena began to fade as you descended the steps, replaced by the rapid beating of your heart.

The corridors beneath the stands were dimly lit, the cool air a welcome reprieve from the suffocating heat of the arena. You kept your gaze forward, refusing to look back, refusing to give your brothers or the victor the satisfaction of seeing your fear. But inside, you were trembling.

“Marcus,” you finally whispered, your voice breaking. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere they can’t touch you,” he replied, his tone low and steady. His hand tightened around yours, a silent vow that he wouldn’t let you face this alone.

The two of you emerged into the open courtyard behind the arena, the setting sun casting long shadows across the stone walls. The sounds of the crowd were distant now, muffled by the heavy doors that closed behind you. You stopped walking, pulling your hand from his and turning to face him.

“They’ll come for me,” you said, your voice laced with frustration and fear. “They won’t let this stand. Geta and Caracalla—”

“They’ll have to go through me first,” Marcus interrupted, his tone sharp, his brown eyes fierce. “And I promise you, my lady, they won’t succeed.”

You stared at him, his words sinking in. He looked every bit the general now, strong, resolute, and unyielding. And yet, there was something else in his gaze, something softer that made your chest tighten. He wasn’t just protecting you out of duty or honor. There was something personal in the way he looked at you, in the way he stood so close, as though shielding you from the world.

"I can fight in the arena" he said, "for you."

You stared blankly at him, shocked at your core.

"What would you win from that? Do you want to own me like those men?" You asked.

"I do not wish to own you, my lady. You're not property. You're a free woman, and If I win, I'll become your husband and you would never have to endure those humiliations ever again."

"Just because I would be yours." You whispered, still broken at the thought of not being enough.

"You would be my wife, not my property." He clarified, "I will live and fight to keep your honor just as you deserve"

You looked away, heart pounding, his words washing over you like laurels over your skin. A part of you longed to believe him, to let his offer pull you from the grip of your family’s ambitions. But fear clung tightly, rooted in years of being nothing more than a pawn in your brothers' power games.

"General…" you murmured, voice wavering. "If you fight for me, you put yourself in danger. And if you fall, my life will only become darker, lonelier. I don’t want your blood on my hands."

He stepped closer, his eyes steady, fierce. "I would rather risk everything than stand by while you suffer. You deserve a life where you choose, where you're loved, not used."

Your throat tightened, emotions swelling. "But if you fight and lose, you’d be at their mercy. They’d make you a symbol. A warning to anyone else who dares to defy them."

He lifted your hand, pressing it to his heart. "Then let them try," he said, his voice unyielding. "For you, my lady, I would face even the wrath of the empire."

His touch was gentle, but his resolve was unbreakable. In that moment, you realized he wasn’t just a man willing to fight for you, he was someone who saw you as more than a title, more than a sister to emperors. He saw you, truly.

“Why?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why would you risk this for me?”

For a moment, he hesitated, the stoic mask slipping just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the man beneath. “Because you deserve more than to be treated as a pawn in their games,” he said finally. “And because I…” He stopped himself, shaking his head as if the words were too much to say aloud. “You don’t deserve this.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight with emotion.

"Acacius… if you truly wish to do this," you whispered, your fingers trembling in his, "then I will stand by your side, come what may."

He smiled, a rare softness breaking through his stoic exterior. "Then we’ll face them together, my lady. And if they stand in our way…" His eyes darkened, a spark of defiance glinting within them. "They’ll learn that love is a force they cannot control"

"Do you believe you could come close to loving me?" You asked, heart pounding.

His reply didn’t come from words. Instead, he squeezed your hand over his heart.

His words lingered in the air, hanging between you like the delicate balance of a fragile moment. You searched his face, his steady eyes holding yours as if daring you to see the sincerity in them. For all his strength, for all his might as a general, Marcus stood before you as something else entirely. A man laying his heart bare.

Your breath hitched as his hand moved from yours to gently cradle your cheek, his touch warm and careful, as if he feared you might pull away. You didn’t. You couldn’t. Instead, you leaned into his palm, your heart pounding so loudly you thought he must hear it.

“May I?” he murmured, his voice soft and hesitant, as though you were something precious, he was afraid to break.

You nodded, unable to speak, your eyes fluttering closed as he leaned in. His lips brushed against yours, tentative and light, testing the waters of your comfort. It was not the kiss of a conqueror or a man accustomed to taking what he wanted. It was the kiss of someone who had been waiting, who had held back his own desires out of respect for you.

The first touch was fleeting, but when he felt you relax into him, he deepened the kiss, his other hand settling on your waist to anchor you against him. The world around you faded. The distant noise of the Coliseum, the threat of your brothers, even the weight of your own fear. All that remained was the warmth of his lips, the steady beat of his heart beneath your other hand.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet that followed. “Loving you,” he whispered again, his voice thick with emotion, “would be the easiest battle I’ve ever fought.”

[timmydraker]

When patrolling together, Red Robin and Robin get cornered by the Joker.

They aren’t too worried at first considering he’s seemingly only got a dozen men and others are on patrol, but then they see what the men are holding.

Joker had made a new Joker venom and they are seemingly the test subjects.

Damian is instantly ready to fight, but Tim is running the odds through his mind and it’s not good. They have a good chance of getting out, they are trained after all, but not without one or both of them getting the venom and who knows how long it will take to make a cure of a new concoction.

Tim can’t let that happen.

Jason, Barbara, himself…

Damian will not be added to the list of people of people tormented by this mad man.

With coms being out of reach as the two went into a private channel so they wouldn’t get in trouble for bickering, and their every move being watched, Tim had few choices.

Tim swallows and pushes Damian behind him, standing tall with his chin up even as his hands start to shake.

Damian starts to protest but Tim is speaking first, “Let him go and you can-… can have JJ back.”

The way Joker starts to grin even wider, slow and painful, is the most unnerving sight Tim has seen in a long time.

Joker laughs loud and starts clapping.

“Oh joy, oh joy! This is more fun than I thought! Always so good at surprises, JJ!”

His laughing doesn’t stop as Tim shakily turns to his little brother, who’s almost eighteen but still little even as he grows taller than him, and holds onto his shoulders.

“Robin, I need you to listen to me. You have to let me go with them or you’ll get hurt, okay? You have to promise me you won’t follow us because I can’t let you get hurt like me and-“

One of the goons takes the chance to knock Robin out and lets him slump into Tim’s arms.

Just as he begins to panic about them hurting Damian or bringing them with him, Joker comes up behind him and wraps an arm move his shoulders, “Don’t worry about him, JJ! Little Robin number… whatever, will be just fine! Batsy will find him and take him back to his nest, while we…” - Joker leans in so he can whisper in his ear - “have a little family catch up!”

Tim nods, not finding it in himself to smile or play along yet, but keeping up his end of his offer.

It takes one day of shocks after his forced make over for him to settle back into the role he learnt the first time. Last time it took two and half a weeks for him to give in and learn his part properly, and then a few more days before he was rescued, but this time it feels almost natural as he puts on a big grin and starts a familiar giggle.

He thinks of Damian, who may have been turned into Joker Junior Junior or some other absurd name, and tells himself it’s worth it to protect him from any more trauma.

Tim is kept for a month, playing house with a mad man who makes rants about JJ’s mother leaving him for a woman and being tortured every time he doesn’t laugh quick enough or seems just a little distant.

When he’s found he doesn’t realise. He’s just sitting there at a dinner table with straps on the chair keeping him down. He’s laughing loudly, knows if he stops he’ll be hit or shocked or forced to drink some kind of toxic chemical until he pukes up blood. He can’t stop, because Papa will be mad and he’s scary when he’s mad and mama isn’t there anymore.

When he process the change of scenery he finds himself in a hospital bed in the cave.

JJ and Tim are so blurred into the same person that when he sees Damian he has no idea who he is at first. He almost expects someone younger, the little boy who first showed up, because that’s the little boy he gave himself up for.

But when Damian stared back at him and starts to tear up Tim finds himself remembering who he wants to be.

He pulls his little brother into his arms, jostling Alfred the Cat, and sobs into his hairline while ignoring the green in his periphery and praying he doesn’t start to laugh.

He fails, but Damian doesn’t give up on him.

[apomaro-mellow]

inspired by this post

The last thing on Steve's mind was Eddie Munson. Even when he was all Dustin could talk about. He barely spared the guy a thought when they were in school together to begin with. Eddie occupied precisely zero percent of his brain space.

So it was kind of jarring to have him suddenly take up all the space he had. Steve had come to the school to pick up Dustin, Mike, and Lucas only to see them crowding around Eddie, who was holding one of the nurse's trusty ice packs to his face.

Steve usually just honked his horn to get them to run up and get in, but there was no separating them right now. And the moment Steve walked over, there was a cacophony of voices, shouting over each other. He had to shout even louder to get them to stop and Eddie's wince didn't go unnoticed.

Once it was quiet, Steve only asked. "Who?"

"Jason and his cronies", Mike spat out.

"All of you, car. Now."

"But-!"

"Now!", Steve ordered. The three of them shifted and Steve realized he needed to be specific because obviously they weren't going to leave Eddie behind. And leaving him wasn't a part of Steve's plan either.

"All of you. Munson, you get to ride shotgun."

He didn't wait long enough to see Eddie's expression before turning to get in his car. There was a mad scramble and once again they continued to shout at each other, trying to tell the story. Steve didn't even bother trying to quiet them then, settling for having to piece together the story.

He knew Lucas had tried out for basketball. Between Steve and Mr. Sinclair, he'd gone from hopeless to hopeful. Steve even warned Lucas that sometimes the team did a little hazing for the new recruits. Apparently the hazing went too far in Lucas' case and Eddie stepped in.

Steve never would have expected Eddie to care. To actually step between Lucas and danger when he'd gone out for sports instead of his weird nerd club. Steve found it easy to relate. When they got to his house, he didn't mean to, but basically manhandled Eddie to the bathroom where the first aid kit was.

"Umm-"

"Don't talk", Steve said. Both because he needed to work on his face and also because he wasn't sure what Eddie would say. This was weird, of course it was. But it was the right thing to do. Steve wondered when the right thing would start to feel less weird. After patching Eddie up, he sent him to the living room. Dustin had already turned the tv to something, taking advantage of the Harrington's sound system. And Mike and Lucas were already raiding the fridge.

"Don't get too comfortable", Steve said, hands on his hips. He sighed before heading up to his room. The nail bat was still in his trunk, but he wouldn't need a weapon that rough. When he came back downstairs, bat hanging over his shoulder, Eddie's non-swollen eye got wide.

"Where are you going with that?"

"Taking care of some business", Steve said. "If I'm not back in an hour, order some pizza. Eddie and only Eddie is allowed to drink the beers in the fridge."

There was a trio of groans, but Eddie was still to gobsmacked to speak.

"What the hell is he about to do?", he finally found the words once Steve was out the door.

"Probably gonna bust some kneecaps on Lucas' behalf", Mike said before crunching on a handful of potato chips.

Eddie looked to Dustin for confirmation. There was no way, right? But Dustin only grinned.

"I told you. Bad. Ass."

Eddie still didn't believe it even when Steve returned, a bit sweaty and hair slightly mussed, the beginning of a bruise on his cheek but otherwise unscathed.

He had to believe it when he found out Jason and a few other players suddenly had broken hands or legs.

[rabbitblackx]

AHASDBROFBDVSJ FINALLY!!! THE REQUEST I GOT!!!

Art the Clown sees his next victim (reader) and trying to make her uncomfortable only to get uno reversed so hard that he is doesn't know if he should kill her to end his misery or just swallow the pill and go fuck it and they become killer besties.

Art The Clown When Reader’s Weirdly Okay With Him

Art found you eating alone in a diner one night, slinking over to your booth with his trash bag over his shoulder. He slumped down across from you, glaring into your soul with his mad eyes. You glanced up from your food, a grin meeting your face. His scowl soon became a broad smile too, eyes wide as he silently stared. You only grinned bigger yourself.

You and Art both smiled at each other in an intense silence for about a minute. If anyone else was there, they’d certainly be creeped out. You got the impression he was trying to make you uncomfortable, but two could play it that game.

“Cute bag. Where’d you get it?” You joked, nodding to the trash bag of weapons next to him. Art just kept on smiling, holding insane eye contact. “You’re kinda cute too, ya know? I like the black and white.”

He waved your compliments off bashfully, fanning his white face as if it was going red. You giggled and kept egging him on, teasing and playfully flirting. Art was surprised by your nice demeanour and lack of fear, feeling entertained by it. You were way more fun to be around compared to his past victims. Too bad you had to die. :(

When you finished your meal and paid, you bid farewell and left the diner, but Art followed like a dog. You glanced over your shoulder as you walked down the dark streets, grinning at him.

“Hey, you coming along?”

Art nodded enthusiastically, shuffling behind you with his trash bag. You could still tell he was trying to freak you out, but you weren’t there yet.

“Okay then. Let’s go!” The clown kept following you down the quiet streets, anyone passing looking disturbed at his appearance. “You’re a good guard dog. You keep the creeps away!”

Art tilted his head at your remark, eyeing you in a funny way. Why weren’t you scared? Couldn’t you tell he was a creep himself? It was beginning to grow annoying how nonchalant you were about him. This was getting old. Scream and cry already!

Art kept following you, and debated grabbing a hammer from his bag. Your back was turned and no one was around. A good whack would do you good right about now! But he refrained.

The killer kinda liked your voice. It’d be a shame to cut your vocal cords, and you had probably been the nicest and funniest person to him yet. He wasn’t used to the kindness.

Art grew pissed. You were annoying! Be afraid! He poked your side angrily and you squeaked.

“Hey! What?”

He glared and pouted. You tilted your head with a playful grin.

“What’s the matter, boy?”

Okay, as frustrating as you were, he had to keep you. Art didn’t know why, but you cooing at him almost like he was a pet… kinda did something for him.

[callmecoke]

Thinking of the first time the 141 discover you on a website for Sugar Babies...

TW: Sex work, specifically being a sugar baby. Mention of insanity, but it's mostly exaggeration; this one's pretty SFW, but I would proceed with caution because the subject matter is adult. Not Proofread!!

This is the first instalment of something I’ll continue writing about!!! And also my first post!!!! Yipeeee😆😆😆

I’m thinking about one tired, slow, dull day with our favourite 141 boys as they sit around waiting to receive orders and go-tos from higher-ups. They’ve done everything they could to pass the time: Polished and prepared the weaponry, sorted and stored old files, and Simon even got desperate enough to fold, wash and tuck in bedding for the second time. But eventually, they ran out of little distractions and were left waiting for orders that might never come. Bit by bit, it was driving them mad. The first to snap was Gaz, who was already pacing up and down the base like a madman. Out of desperation, he grabbed his laptop that he hid under his bed and opened it. He knew he wasn’t allowed to access electronic devices while at base; frankly, he wasn’t even supposed to have them at all. But Price couldn’t be bothered to chastise his sergeant, as he was equally starting to get desperate for some action too. 

Gaz just started opening tabs, looking for anything to pass the time. He wasn’t sure what his goal was other than to find something that might quell his building insanity. That’s when he saw it. Some sort of…dating website? No, not entirely that. It was filled with livestreams, gorgeous younger men and women just talking. He looked further and found it was some kind of sugar baby service where people could come on and interact with lonely rich fellas with cash to spend. Interesting, but not his thing. He was about to exit the page when he spotted your livestream. You were attractive, no doubt about that, but you also seemed a lot more nervous than the other ‘sugar babies’ on this website acted. Like you were new to all this. Your live stream was just you sitting on your bed with the laptop in front of you, only having a dozen or so viewers at most. Curiosity struck him, and his finger moved to click on your livestream. 

The audio of you talking played out of the speakers on the laptop, making the other three men's heads turn in Gaz’s direction. You spoke softly, careful with your words as you talked about yourself and your day, answering questions now and again. It was intriguing. You had each of their attention with the way you spoke. None of them had spoken to a civilian for months. Outside of the 141, they barely even saw another human being with the way they were stuck there. So hearing your voice felt like singing angels to them, one that came to pull them out of the darkness of their minds. Soap and Simon silently shuffled to where Gaz was and leered behind him, watching you talk over his shoulder. Price continued to sit on his side of the room, but he was still entranced by your voice. Even ordering Gaz to turn up the volume if it got too quiet.

Gaz soon realised that the livestream was nearing its end. You hadn’t earned a lot of money, and you were slowly losing steam. But Gaz was desperate. He needed to hear your voice again. To talk to you, speak to you, interact with you somehow. His fingers moved before his brain did, and he input his card details into the website faster than the speed of sound. You had to pay in order to leave a comment and interact on this kind of website, so he tipped you a healthy sum of cash before typing out the quickest sentence he could to get your attention.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

[diejager]

Saccharine and Monstrosity pt.1

Pairing: Eldritch Horror!König x mermaid!reader

Cw: kidnapping, manipulation, DARK FIC, trap, luring, mention of breeding kink, protective König, mention of partial nudity, hunting, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 4K

I got inspired by @konigsblog ‘s post.

You enjoyed the sun as much as any other betta fish mermaid, laying on the warm rocks and bathing under the bright, yellow sun. You lived in a school of fish that moved near the shores of a tropical island a few generations before, building houses under the coral reef and rocks where newly placed branches would grow and work as a natural shield. The world you lived in - the part of the ocean you called your home - was bright and colourful, the shallow waters clear and gleaming under the warming sun.

You liked all things bright and colourful, either big or small, you decorated your part of the cave with things you found while swimming around your territory. Be it a golden coin shining on the ocean floor, or a shard of coloured glass, you picked it all up and stuck it around your room. Sometimes, you found pretty things near the limits of your home, and other times, you ventured closer to the edge of the darkness when something shiny caught your attention. 

Over the ridge of sand that drew the start of the darkness, that deep and menacing slope down to the deepest part of your ocean, where darker, meaner and cruel beings born of cruelty and madness lived. It was somewhere all mers were warned of, to stay far away from the darkness and never stray from the light that fed and protected you. You thrived in the light, your body absorbing the warmth from the sun that made your scales vibrant and feeding from the fauna and flora that lived beside you: seaweeds and small fishes. 

Your kind grew up with stories of horrifying monsters and cruel creatures that lived in that abyss, lingering near the shallow to catch a pretty, little mer for their hoard. Whatever became of the taken was still unknown, once a mer was taken by One, no one would hear from them from then on. Your parents had warned you about straying too close from the shallow, daring fate when you swam over the ridge to collect those pretty gems you fancied so much.

“Don’t worry,” you’d grin at her, fins flickering behind you. “I’m a fast swimmer, mom!”

You were a fast swimmer, slipping between rocks and corals, hands cradling your little shells while you fled from the dark, twisting over the ridge and vanishing between the corals. That’s what you did most days, picking up people’s trash to make it your treasure, fingers cleaning the sand off the holes and crevasses before sticking them to your walls. You also tinkered with metal creations you found, a silver fork or a rusted-looking instrument. 

Granted, you joined in hunts, catching sardines and herrings, claws digging into its scaled bodies and teeth ripping into its flesh, the only other taste being sea salt, or bathed under the sun, but you preferred scavenging for loot. Although mers hunted alone, most found it easier to do it in groups, swarming shoals of fish and catching in a group of a dozen at a time for your little colony. So when you were fed and rested, you were back out, treading the line between the shallow and the abyss.

You swam slowly, head turning left and right for anything that would catch your attention, for that small glint hidden under a thin veil of sand or a long metallic object sticking out from the ground. You already had a few things in your arms, a few shells, human objects thrown overboard or floated into the sea, and small treasures: white pearls. You picked things up from both sides, mind in a comfortable and pleasant space, prideful of your catch so far that you were oblivious of the eyes following your colourful body. 

His pale eyes wandered over your puffy cheeks and sweet lips, those squinted eyes in mirth as you searched for more. He went down the curve of your shoulders and the swell of your breasts, perky nipples covered by pretty shells, over your soft stomach and that bright, colourful tail of yours that first caught his attention. Every scale glistened under the sun, reflecting the light on the sand while you swam, your fins curving with the twist of your tail. 

You were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, an angel collecting treasure, just like he did. He saw the batch in your arms, clutched between your breasts when you dove to pick something up on his side. You were as adorable and innocent as you were pretty, your action oblivious of his predatory eyes, dipping into his territory without fear of retribution on his part. He liked that bold and daring attitude of yours, fitting for someone so courageously bright and flashing your bold colours to him. 

If he were to drop something closer to him, would you still swim towards it or ignore it for something closer to the ridge? If he hid until you were close enough, would he be able to wrap his limb around you? To feel your soft skin and coarse scales under his slimy arm. He was glad he decided to hunt today, searching for both prey - mer or fish, he isn’t picky about what he ate - and treasure. Hidden under a couple of tentacles, he dropped a golden coin a few feet away from him, his veil and the darkness helping him hide from your sight. 

His heart soared when he saw your eyes widen, a smile curling at the corners of your lips when you saw his little coin, diving towards him with enthusiasm. You were so close to him, hand stretching to grab the object with small, clawed fingers. When you held it in your hand, appraising it, he felt pride bubble in his chest, rising to his mind as he took this occasion to get his arm around you. You flinched when he wrapped the tip of his tentacle around your tail, squirming around in terror. In a panicked struggle to escape him, you dropped everything you’d collected and fled from him with a cry.

He watched you swim away from him through saddened eyes, hearing the thudding from the things you dropped, even the coin he gifted you. His eyes never left your fleeing body until you jumped over the edge, your tail the last thing he saw in that moment of self-deprivation and sadness. He hoped you’d come back, forgetting the fear of his sudden attention and daring fate once more.

He came the next day and the day after that, but you weren’t there, your precious smile and happy eyes were a memory in his mind, a fleeting moment in his gloomy world. He came back every day, hiding in the darkness, on the line between pitch darkness and light shading. He wished you were there every day, his eyes bleeding with optimism and hope for a single smidgen of bright colours. 

He hadn’t seen you in the following week. His shoulders slumped and caved into himself in sadness every time he came by, his blue eyes dulling bit by bit, that hopeful thinking drowning under realistic thinking and a pessimistic mind. Then he caught a glimpse of colour against the white sand. Before long, he saw arms filled with shiny items, trailing nearer to your side than his, but still chasing for treasures. 

If he wanted to approach you, to touch your soft-looking skin and run his arms over your scaled tail, he’d have to find a way to lure you in. He watched you the first few days, his tentacles curling on itself and burying himself in the sand, the hundreds of suckers searching for buried treasures to leave for you. When you turned your back to him, his unwinding arm left the things he found near the ridge for you to find and take. Little gifts for you, courting gifts he left and gifted you in an attempt to woo you. 

You were skittish and fleeing but took all his gifts with shaky smiles and grateful eyes, you knew he gave them to you. Of course, you did, you were his brave and smart little mermaid, approaching his offerings with apprehension - he felt hurt you feared and got nervous around him, but he understood you, his kind ate yours - and scanned the sand around you for any danger before crossing the line. He felt giddy when you added them to your stack, his mind-blowing with dreams and thoughts of you decorating your little cave with the things he gave you. On the ceiling, against the wall and on the ground or surfaces, you would use the things he gave you for your home. 

It sent him up the walls of his caves with joy and excitement, his limbs curling to rearrange his home to prepare for you, to accommodate your arrival to his big, lonely home.

It took a week or two - or so he thought, his perception of time was and had always been warped in some way - before you became comfortable enough to approach him, to let him curl his slimy tentacle around your tail and up your body. He could finally feel you and it made him ecstatic - he was over the moon every time he got to touch you. Little pokes, fleeting squeezes and feathery bites from his suckers on your flesh, all things he let himself taste before your coupling. A coupling between the prettiest and the cruellest beings in the ocean would unwind the seams that made your worlds, pulling the string that separated the beauty and the beast in this cursed universe.

Granted, you hesitated to cross into the pitch darkness of the abyss, dancing just a few inches from his abode with an armful of trinkets from König. Your slow and steady breath, words you blessed him with when you muttered to him, calling out to know if he was there and your grateful grin were a common, yet welcome sight in his daily swim. While a bit reluctant to join him on the other side, you eventually swam across, your eyes melting into the black before you. You were unseeing as much as you were blind, if not for the guiding palm of the Eldritch creature that you befriended and the shine of treasure you saw around him. 

You wished you could see anything but the gleam of treasure and the black mist of the abyss, your hand wandered over his, searching for his body, to feel the one who’s been gifting you treasures. Your fingers trailed upwards, feeling the tightness of his muscles, the curves and hardness of his arms were sinful. You truly wished you could see him at this moment, but you kept at your advance, clawed fingers moving slowly with unbridled curiosity. When you reached his broad shoulders and well-pronounced chest, it rumbled, a purr coming from König. Its deep sound shook you with need, your tail enthusiastically moving back and forth as you listened to him. 

“Are you happy, Schatz?”

His voice was even better than his soft purrs, in a way that made you want to melt into his arms and never bother moving if he kept talking to you, the sound of the creature that gave you gifts and affection. König’s spine-chilling voice seemed like a mix of many voices, both soft and raspy, and both deep and smooth, but it was something you enjoyed, that you found yourself liking a bit too much. 

“Yes,” you breathed, eyes travelling skyward, towards the source of his voice.

Your breath caught in your throat, choking a gasp at the prettiest blues you’d seen staring down at you. They were majestic, gem-like with a pretty sheen that made them glow like a beacon of light. You wondered why you’d never seen them, seeing how bright his eyes were. They lit up his face, or the veil he wore over his face, showing the pale streak of makeshift tears down the incision he made for his eyes. You shamelessly admired him, unbothered by the lost puppy-like stare you gave him in your glowing beauty. 

You’d crossed a threshold, where a creature of light never dared to cross, stepping into the arms of an Old One and embracing their madness. Although you were oblivious to his intentions, the loud proclamation of his courting rituals and attempts of crying out his love - the Old One’s rituals and cultures were much of a mystery to those who didn’t study them, much of a taboo for anyone outside of delusion and greed - he hadn’t refrained from his deliberate show that would be nearly shameful and embarrassing to others of his kind. 

Some wouldn’t bother with such frivolous acts: confessions from the deepest part of their dark soul, proclamation of love and undying adoration, or having to scavenge for gifts - offerings - to the subject of their attention. His kind took and took, reaching for that small glimmer of hope and beauty and corrupted it, bending it to their liking and building something from the ashes. It wouldn’t - would never - be the same as they were before, but that was how the Old Ones liked it: control, corruption, ruin, madness and power.

König wouldn’t do that, he wanted to cherish you, add to what you were and watch it bloom like those bioluminescent creatures in the abyss; even against his creator’s wishes. He’ll put you on the highest pedestal he has, eternally imprinting the image of you as his most precious treasure into his mind. You’ll be a thing of miracles, a thing of blessings, a thing of new beginnings. He wanted all and everything with you, but he’d have to take it slow, to coax you into this redundant pattern that ensured your trust and comfort and have you follow him of your own volition. 

He doesn’t mind waiting, he’s had hundreds of years of sitting and waiting, patience was a virtue he grew to learn, to hold in his giant palm and clutch like a gift from the ever-growing, chaotic universe. He can wait and plan, so he will, König will lay down his plan and wait until he can bring it to reality.

Wait he did, for you to grow comfortable enough to follow him deeper and let him pull you in from your side. It took you a month of back and forth, squirming around your infatuation with König and exchanging trinkets, words and fleeting kisses with him. He adored your little giggles when he traced your sides with a bolt tentacle, curling under your plush tits and the tip sliding under your strap. He loved the pretty shells you gave him, cleaned from sand and any barnacles, it showed him how much time you spent on it for him. His heart bloomed and swelled to impossible heights when you pecked his lips, giving him shy and gentle kisses that he grew addicted to. 

You were so sweet and so soft, your lips the taste of heaven for a creature of madness. Your hands were gentle like a cool balm over a burn, soothing his wild thoughts. Your little gifts for him - reciprocating his affection - were currently the most important things in his cave, a sign of your love and devotion. It made him wonder what would you let him do once you gave yourself to him. Would you succumb to the everlasting pleasures he could give you, or would you demand to help him take care of his own in a mutual haze? He couldn’t help himself, letting his chaotic mind conjure the most absurd and erotic dreams, his body vibrating with excitement; and now, at the peak of your trust in him, he watched his plan - a well-placed trap - come to fruition. 

“Come, Schatz,” he beckoned you forward, his burly arm stretching to coax you to follow him, holding out his open palm to you. “I have something I want to show you. Pretty things.”

Without a thought, to question his intentions or to ask why he couldn’t have bought them for you like he usually did, you took his hand and let his fingers curl over yours, intertwining your smaller digits to his as he pulled you to his chest. His embrace was as safe and pleasant as the last one - yesterday - and caused a flurry of emotions to erupt in your chest, he was warm in the cool darkness, loving in all the ways you could think. You could close your eyes and imagine a smile rippling across his face with joyfully squinted eyes peering down at you. 

Held against his chest, his other arm wrapped around your waist with a firm squeeze of his hand where your skin turned to scales. He whispered sweet promises, words of encouragement to see the way to his home and excited explanations of what awaited you. Pretty things, he said, you knew what he meant - at least you think you did - you shared much in common, and pretty things were something you both agreed on: shiny metals, interesting trinkets, shimmering shells or finely-minted coins. All things humans valued before throwing away; one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. 

How unfortunate that you couldn’t see in the dark, yet how fortunate you wouldn’t know the way back, it was something he relied on heavily to keep you, if you didn’t know how to navigate in this utter blindness, there were no risks of you trying to escape his caring hand. You were smart, you wouldn’t simply venture off without knowing where to go and how to see, especially with how vast his territory was and how dangerous it was. He shared his home with other simple-minded animals, sharks, fishes, eels and any other abyssal creature that lived and depended on the dark to live. 

Your innocent curiosity about the things he deemed pretty enough to hoard made his heartbeat, that addicting feeling he got from touching you, kissing you and speaking to you. Even if the deeper he went, the colder it became, you never once complained, your wide eyes and grinning face were the only thing you gave him. He was truly relieved to know that you were patient and understanding of his home, not one hiss or pout while you shook and clung to him, depending on him for warmth. He liked that, to see you rely on him so much. 

“We’re here, mein Liebling,” he hushed, cradling your face as he dove down, through the entrance of his cave. He shielded your fragile body with his many arms, protecting you from the rush of water current flowing against him. He chose this one to build his nest, using the strong current as a natural barrier against weaker creatures. 

When the waters calmed to a still, he loosened his hold on you, unravelling his arms to let you explore the many passages and alcoves in his home. To accommodate you, he strung up bioluminescent flora, using them as light to find your way around, with silken algae over a few rocks to mimic the beds mers slept in and a few other things that he thought you’d need: a mirror, a few floating plants to add to its mystical beauty and clusters of soft materials in nearly every room. 

He let you wander, your tail flapping back and forth to lead you down the long hall and explore the many rooms. He used a room to sleep, one as a pantry and storage, and another one to hold his hoard, but he had a lot of empty and unused space, more than enough for you and your children to thrive. He wanted to let you roam at your own pace, but he had something to show you, something he was proud of making. 

He pulled you from your little cloud of joy, wrapping an arm around you, his sticky suckers latching onto you as he coaxed you his way. Only then had you taken the time to admire König under blue light, cheeks warm with a burning flush and doe-like eyes staring at the naked expense of his hard abdomen, stomach sculpted to perfection that had Adonis shying away. His arms were big and round, muscles straining the scarred skin with delicious appeal. 

Downwards, following the sharp dip of his navel, were dozens of dark tentacles lined with round, pulsing suckers. Like an octopus, they were covered in a slimy sheen, every limb flexible and able to move independently. The lower ones were thick and soft, acting as a cover for whatever he hid beneath them, while some were thinner, whose source came from under his veil. Those, however, were a mix of normal and horrific tentacles, some had eyes replacing the usual suckers, tinted in the same colour as his irises, that glowing, pale blue. 

It made your body heat up, fingers tingling with nerves - or was it? When faced with something you found appealing, it’d be natural to feel flustered, no? König thought so, that’s how he spent the first days reacting to you, heating up to a bothersome flush to everything you did. He watched your awed stare, that daydreaming haze in your eyes when you looked him over, his whole body clear under the gentle light in his cave. 

“This way.”

Without making your gaze leave his figure, he drew you in, heading towards his biggest room where he caught and strung everything to fit his pleasure and mood. It was somewhere deeper into the system with walls strong and sturdy, and the round ceiling higher than the other rooms. On one side was a pile of golden objects of all shades, light yellow to a darkish gold, nearly bronze; on the other was a mix of pretty silver things and metallic black objects, rusted by age and the salty ocean; and on another, the smallest of them all, comprised of a few dozens of colourful shells and corals frozen in time that you’d given him. 

He saw your chest expand, your smile growing brighter and brighter at the pile of gifts you gave him, your bubbly laugh as you swam towards it, twirling around it proudly. You looked around the room, admiring his large collection and how it seemed to spill down every pile in an attempt to reach the other one, forming a protective ring around your presents, but always coming back to the bright pink, blue and yellow shells. You were happy and appreciative of the time he spent working and arranging his hoard. If he could, he’d preen and purr to you, to show just how much your proud smile meant to him, watching you appraise his work was satisfying. 

He already felt like things were falling into place perfectly, he could see the life he had envisioned with you coming to life, the little intricacies that popped into his mind seeming too appealing. His dreams were slowly becoming a reality, the things that he could only imagine were now tangible to his hands, and the future he salivated at was so, so close that he could sink his teeth into its flesh. 

He knew it. He knew it when he watched you swim to him with that big, adorable smile on your face, that it was in his hands. He could see it now, how his lonely cave would be filled with life and laughter, children with a mix of your beauty and his madness chasing one another between the many openings and your round, swollen stomach welcoming another of your children to the world. That was all he could think of while he cradled you in his arms, his tentacles latching to your tail and back. 

“You’re happy, ja?”

Next

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @candlewitch-cryptic @im-making-an-effort @0alk0msan 

[nastyaromatherapy]

Brother's best friend (18+)

You see Nate, who you're not so fond of, at your house hanging out with your brother.

do i have many Ethan requests currently? yes. but am i currently salivating, thirsting, and barking for nate? yes.

pairing - bbf!nate jacobs x fem!reader

one shot length, 1.4k+ word fic

warnings: PIV, nate's kind of the worst obvi, nate says the r-slur, nate's like graduated highschool by now, uhh idfk creampie ig

The stench wafting out of your brother's room was disgusting, the fumes infiltrated your nostrils when you walked through the hall to get your laundry. You tried to ignore him and his friends over their yelling which was damn near impossible, who knows what the fuck they did in there. All you knew is that it was stinky, sweaty, and weirdly horny.

You shuffled your way into the laundry room and started loading the machine. Somehow the smell of your dirty clothes was more tolerable than his room. Suddenly the noises from the musty dump got louder, signifying that the door had opened. You paid no mind, not wanting to see him or Daniel, or whoever else was lurking in that place.

You had just about finished loading the washer until you heard a voice. "Forgot something?" You turned around and looked up to see Nate with a pink thong dangling from his fingers. "Thanks," you said with annoyance. You yanked it from his fingers to throw it in the drum.

Nate was hot, a grade above you, but you still disliked him with rationality. In your junior year he catfished you, leading you to embarrass yourself in front of the person that you thought you were texting, and then you became a joke amongst his friend group.

He stood behind you as you threw in tide pods and started the machine. You turned around and he was still there. "That the same pair you wore in that one pic?" You rolled your eyes, "Which one?" He chuckled to himself. "The fact you have to ask 'which one' is laughable." You scoffed and stormed out of the room, brushing past him.

"When will you stop being mad at me?" He called out, making you turn around. "It's been a year, c'mon everyone's forgotten." He spoke. "Not you apparently! Maybe if you stopped being a total dick, we'd be neutral like how I am with the rest of my brother's friends." You huffed and walked to your room with him following behind. "Okay, okay y/n, I'm sorry." He said as he leaned against your doorframe.

"Whatever Nate, why do you want my forgiveness so bad anyways? Just go back and hang out with my brother." You said while straightening random trinkets on your dresser. "Because, y'know, I want to be neutral with you. Besides, I'd be lying if I said I haven't jacked off at least once to those photos-" "Oh my god Nate, ew! Just get your perverted ass out of my fucking room!" You yelled, attempting to push his tall frame out to no avail.

He looked down at you, finding the power difference endearing. "It's not my fault you're perfect," he purred, making you soil your your panties. You always loved when he complimented you. You swallowed as you looked up at him. "My brother's gonna wonder where you are so, you should y'know, before he comes looking for you." He shakes his head. "Your brother's retarded, he's not gonna wonder shit." He said as his hands reached to shut your door.

"Nate," you whispered before he leaned down to kiss you. You internally gasped as your hands found their way to his cheeks, and his traveled to grope your ass through the oversized tee you drowned in. The groans he let escape into your mouth was enough to make you completely drench your panties, your other hand reaching for his shirtless chest. The two of you traveled to your bed, not breaking the kiss, only casually coming up for air.

You were positioned at the bottom, head resting on your pillow with him above you. He slipped his tongue into your mouth just as he slipped his hand underneath your shirt, fingers making their way to your heavy clit. You whimpered and jolted at the connection, inching your legs wider for him. He rubbed circles around your bulging clit through the panties whilst his tongue journeyed through your mouth.

"Nate, please," you whimpered into his mouth. He pulled away leaving your mouth agape as he lifted your tee over your head. "Fuck," he whispered to himself. You sat up to kiss him as he grasped your tits, kneading them and squeezing on your nipples. You moaned into his mouth from the friction as you reached down to his crotch. He groaned when he felt your hand on his erection. You broke the kiss to unbutton his pants, pulling them down as you licked your lips. You eyed his length through his Calvin Kleins and massaged him through the fabric.

He moaned from your touch, biting his lip as he looked down at your hand. You reached your hand in to stretch the waistband and pull his cock out. His chest rose and fell as you leaned down to lick his shaft before swallowing him. He bit back a whimper as you took him deep into your mouth. Your soft plush lips wrapped around his shaft like a ring that slid up and down his girthy length. Your doe eyes met his dark ones as your cheeks hollowed, making you moan around his cock.

"Fuck, I always knew you were a slut from those photos," He said between grunts. Your eyebrows furrowed as you breathed heavily through your nose, stomach churning from how aroused you were. Vibrations were sent up his cock from your moans, making him twitch in your mouth. "Shit you're gonna make me cum," he whispered before painting your mouth white. You slid off of him, letting the cum canopy over the rest of his length, making a mess on your bed.

After catching his breath, he fisted your hair in his hands to pull you up to him to interlock lips. He grimaced at the taste of his bitter cum on your lips as his tongue grazed yours, his hands again toying with your perky nipples. "Why'd b/n have to have such a hot sister," he whispered, making your hole flutter. "Maybe so you'd have something fun to do in his godforsaken tomb." You smirked against his lips before he laid you down back onto your mattress.

He spread your legs, eyeing that darkened, damp patch on your panties. You closed your eyes, slightly embarrassed by your physical arousal. He pulled them down, a string of natural lubricant following behind. You stretched your legs in the air and opened them wider, letting him view your glistening pussy.

He tapped his tip atop your sticky folds, his cock already covered in cum. You whimpered at the contact, and he smiled a smug smirk at your reaction. "Yeah, you want it?" He whispered condescendingly. "Yes Nate, please! I need you so bad," you begged. He lined his cock up with your gaping entrance before plunging in. You moaned out as your pussy stretched to accommodate his length. You moaned out with every thrust of his hips, not doing your best at keeping quiet.

He chuckled at himself whenever you cried out when he went deep, his tip grazing your sensitive cervix. "Such a slut taking one of your brother's friend's cocks, yeah?" He groaned as he pistoned himself in and out of your pussy. Your hole was sloppy and wet, and a ring of his previous cum formed around his base. "Please don't stop Nate, it feels s'good," you slurred out.

He slapped your tits making you yelp and leaned down to suck on your lips. You moaned into his mouth as his cock fucked your pussy animalistically. "'Pussy's so fucking good," he groaned against your lips. "You gonna touch yourself whenever I'm on my way to hang out with your brother? Gonna pull me away so I can fill you up with my cum like the good slut you are?" He asked. "Mhm, yes Nate, I'm gonna need your cock everyday," you moaned, clenching around his length. "Good fucking girl," he groaned.

Your stomach twisted and you found yourself throbbing around his length, close to cumming. "Nate, I'm s'close," you whimpered out. "Fuck, cum for me baby," he grunted through his teeth, making you unravel all around his cock, your cum dripping like warm honey on his length. With one final thrust he came too, shooting his load into your tight cunt. He pulled out and watched the mix of cum spill out of you, leaving a puddle on the sheets, and your hole that was left gaping.

***

The two of you put your clothes back on and he walked out of your room. Your brother notices him from the hallway and finally wonders where he's been. "Nate, dude, where the hell were you?" He just smugly shrugged. "Bathroom, jacking off to your sister," he starts, looking back at you. "She's fucking hot." You scoffed, "Gross," before closing your door.