#I’m going to hide in my room until the hole in my chest goes away

[ghostspectorguy]

Hey so I know a lot of shows have the running theme of having a funny first season and then a heartbreaking second season. I’ve seen it done a lot of times with the owl house, gravity falls, DuckTales, etc etc.

What I wasn’t expecting though was the most heartbreaking and soul crushing one to be from an object show.

Ngl this one hit harder than ONE frfr. At least with that show there was a happy ending for some of the characters. But no for II there was no happy ending. Not for MePhone, not for Bot, not for Cobs, not for the Eggs, and certainly not for the viewers.

I’m now going to fill the void in my chest by rewatching seasons 1 and 3

Thank you Brian Koch for writing one of the most devastating endings I’ve ever seen 🫡

[soulofapatrick]

Sleep, I've Got You - Liam Mairi x Female Reader

Summary: you haven't slept in two weeks and two people are pushing you to seek Liam's help

Warnings: none

Words: 2.3k

Y/N's POV

The training room is filled with quiet conversation, but I linger in the doorway, unnoticed. Violet is stretched out on the floor with a book in hand, Bodhi and Garrick are watching Ridoc and Sawyer debating something trivial. Liam is just listening along, breathing air through his nose  when either of the goofs say something even more ridiculous than the other but he’s fiddling with a dagger in his hand. Xaden is in the corner, brooding as usual, his dark eyes occasionally flicking up to meet mine before drifting away. 

“Go to him.” Draighanmúr’s, or Draighan as I call him, voice rumbles in the back of my mind, firm and gentle. His presence is soothing, as always, but his suggestion catches me off guard, feeling his silent urge for me to move from where I’m still hovering in the doorway. He doesn’t say who the ‘him’ is but I know exactly who he is on about. 

I shouldn’t be here. My body is heavy with exhaustion, my thoughts fogged by the lack of sleep that’s haunted me for days. I know I should turn around and head back to the dorms, crawl into bed and pull the duvet over my head and try to get a single wink of sleep. Something, or someone, keeps me rooted in place, Xaden’s eyes flicking over to mine again once more before he goes back to brooding. 

The shadows around me seem to come to life, curling around my ankles like tendrils, their touch cold and almost tangible. There’s a light pressure at the back of my legs, an insistent nudge that makes me take a wobbly step forwards. My breath catching in my throat as I realise what’s happening—these aren’t just ordinary shadows. They’re Xaden’s. 

I glare at my wingleader instinctively, annoyance flickering in my chest. He’s the only one who could be doing this, the one manipulating the shadows to push me out of the safety of the darkness where I’ve been hiding. His eyes meet mine briefly, and there’s a knowing look in them, an acknowledgment of what he’s doing. He doesn’t say anything, though, just tilts his head slightly as if to say, You know this is for your own good.

Draighan chuffs in the back of my mind as if agreeing with Xaden’s silent comment, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and agreement as he tells me You need rest, and you know who can give it to you. His presence is warm, comforting, but it doesn’t take away the frustration bubbling inside me. Xaden and Draighan unknowingly conspiring against me. 

With a resigned sigh, I continue to shuffle forwards, my movements somewhat sluggish and uncertain—things you don’t want for a dragon rider. Every step feels heavier than the last, and I hesitate again, my body instinctively trying to resit the pull. But I can feel Xaden’s eyes boring holes into the side of my head, a silent pressure that refuses to elm me retreat. It’s as if his gaze alone is propelling my forwards, leaving me no choice but to keep moving until I find myself standing next to the group of boys. 

Ridoc glances up at me, a mischievous grin on his face which would have me worried if it were anyone else but Ridoc as he asks, “You joining us?” His tone is light, but there’s genuine curiosity in his eyes, like he’s surprised I’ve wandered over to them and not Violet. 

I just nod, the motion feeling more like a reflex than a conscious decision. Without saying a word, I sink down the wall, near Sawyer and a few steps away from Liam, close enough to feel the warmth of Liam’s presence but far enough that I don’t feel complexly exposed. 

The golden evening light streams into the training room, casting a warm, ethereal glow over everything it touches. Liam sits bathed in that light, his soft light-blond hair catching the glow, making him look almost ethereal. His tall, muscular frame, as built as Dain, is relaxed as he fiddles with a dagger, the blade catching the light as it twirls effortlessly between his fingers. His blue eyes are focused on the conversation, a soft, thoughtful expression on his face as he listens to the banter around him. There’s a rugged handsomeness to him, emphasised by the prominent nose and the sprawling rebellion relic that begins at his wrist and disappears under the sleeve of his tunic. When he smiles, a dimple appears, adding a touch of warmth to his otherwise stoic demeanour.

My heart tightens in my chest as I watch him. He looks like he belongs in this light, like the strength and calmness of it are just extensions of who he is. There’s a quiet confidence about him that draws me in, and I can’t help but feel my crush on him swell, massive and overwhelming. I’m head over heels for him, and it’s a feeling that terrifies me as much as it thrills me. 

Draighan’s presence in my mind is a steady, reassuring hum, bolstering my resolve. I scoot closer to Liam, my movements slow and deliberate as I inch toward him. My heart races as I reach out, nudging his right arm from his lap. He looks down at me, a hint of surprise in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything as I lay my head down where his arm once rested.

I tense, my whole body stiffening in anticipation of some kind of backlash or teasing comment. I’m ready for Ridoc’s sharp wit, for Sawyer’s playful jabs, or even for Liam to shift uncomfortably and pull away. But none of that happens. Instead, there’s a beat of silence, and then I feel Liam’s hand find its way into my hair. His fingers are gentle, tentative at first, before they start to move in slow, soothing strokes.

Liam's fingers begin to move through my hair, the touch light and careful, as though he’s afraid of hurting me. He smooths out the knots with practiced ease, each motion gentle yet firm. The tension I’ve been holding in my scalp and neck gradually starts to dissolve under his deft touch, the soothing strokes lulling me into a state of relaxation I haven’t felt in days.

As his hand continues to comb through my hair, he leans forward slightly, tilting my head to the side so that our eyes meet. His blue eyes, usually so sharp and alert, soften as they take in the exhaustion written across my face. There’s a quiet understanding in his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of how tired I am, how much I need this moment of comfort.

“You’re exhausted,” he murmurs softly, his voice low and tender. “Sleep.”

The warmth in his tone wraps around me like a blanket, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the noise of the room, the worries in my mind. It’s just him, his voice, and the steady rhythm of his fingers in my hair. He lets go of my face, leaning back against the wall as he continues his soothing ministrations. Before he settles, though, his fingers briefly brush against my cheek, a tender gesture that sends a warmth spreading through my chest. Then, his hand returns to my hair, the steady, rhythmic strokes coaxing me closer to the edge of sleep.

As I begin to drift, I catch Ridoc’s eyes from across the room. He’s been watching quietly, his playful demeanour momentarily subdued. He mouths a single word at me, a question: Nightmares?

I nod once, softly, the motion barely perceptible. It’s all I can manage in my state of exhaustion, but it’s enough. Ridoc’s gaze softens in understanding before he turns back to his banter with Sawyer, Bodhi, and Garrick, picking up the conversation where he left off.

The world around me fades into the background as Liam’s fingers continue to move through my hair, the gentle rhythm pulling me closer to sleep. Draighan’s presence hums softly in the back of my mind, a comforting reminder that I’m safe, that I can finally let go. My breathing slows, and before long, I succumb to the exhaustion, my body sinking into the warmth and comfort of Liam’s lap.

————

I slowly drift back into consciousness, the heaviness of sleep gradually lifting as awareness returns. The first thing I notice is the softness beneath my head—a pillow, not the comforting firmness of Liam’s lap where I last remember resting. I shift slightly, feeling the warmth of a blanket draped over me, its weight soothing against the cool air of the room. There’s another weight too, heavier and more solid, resting across my waist. It takes me a moment to realize it’s an arm, strong and steady, holding me close.

I blink, my eyes adjusting to the dim light in the room. The training room is gone, replaced by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through a small window. The familiar scent of leather and something distinctly Liam fills my senses, grounding me as I take in my surroundings. I’m not in the dorms, not in my own bed. My heart skips a beat as the realisation sinks in—I’m in Liam’s bed.

I take a slow, deep breath, feeling the rise and fall of the warm body behind me. His presence is solid, comforting, and undeniably familiar. The heat of his body seeps into my back, and for a moment, I just lie there, processing the unexpected but welcome reality of where I am.

Carefully, I roll over, shifting beneath the weight of his arm until I’m facing him. The room is quiet, the only sounds being the soft rustle of the blanket and the steady rhythm of Liam’s breathing. My eyes trace his features, relaxed and peaceful in sleep. His spiky blond hair is tousled, a few strands falling across his forehead. His sharp, blue eyes are hidden behind closed lids, their intensity softened by the calmness of slumber. His prominent nose and the faint shadow of stubble on his jawline give him a rugged look, but there’s a gentleness to him now, a vulnerability that makes my heart ache.

As I lie there, taking in every detail of Liam's serene face, I feel an overwhelming tenderness swell in my chest. His usually intense blue eyes are softened by sleep, his features relaxed in a way I rarely get to see. I can’t help myself—I lean in and press a gentle kiss to his jawline, just where the faint shadow of stubble begins. His skin is warm and slightly rough beneath my lips, the contact filling me with a quiet sense of intimacy.

The soft press of my lips causes him to stir, his brow furrowing slightly before his eyes slowly flutter open. For a moment, he looks disoriented, but then his gaze finds mine, and a slow, sleepy smile spreads across his face, the dimple in his cheek deepening.

"How'd you sleep?" he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep, and it sends a shiver down my spine.

I begin to answer, my voice still soft and laced with the remnants of sleep, "Better than I have in days—" But before I can finish, I notice his eyes flick down to my lips, lingering there for just a heartbeat before he moves.

In a fluid motion, Liam closes the small distance between us, capturing my lips in a kiss that feels like the culmination of something we’ve both been wanting for far too long. His lips are warm and firm against mine, moving with a gentle urgency that takes my breath away. His hand, still resting on my waist, tightens slightly, pulling me closer as if he needs to make sure I’m real, that this moment is real.

The kiss is slow and tender, but there’s a depth to it that speaks of unspoken emotions, of the comfort we find in each other. His thumb brushes over my cheek as he deepens the kiss, his touch both loving and reverent. I lose myself in the sensation, in the way his lips mold perfectly to mine, in the way his warmth seeps into every corner of my being. It feels like coming home, like finding a piece of myself I didn’t know was missing.

When we finally part, it’s with a shared breath, both of us a little dazed but undeniably content. His forehead rests gently against mine, our breaths mingling in the small space between us.

"Maybe we should get a little more sleep," he whispers, his voice a soft murmur that makes my heart flutter. There’s a hint of a smile in his voice, one that I can’t help but return.

"Yeah," I agree, my own voice barely more than a sigh as I shift closer, tucking myself against his bare chest. The steady beat of his heart beneath my ear is a comforting rhythm, lulling me back toward sleep. His arm wraps securely around me, holding me close as his other hand continues its soothing motions, tracing gentle patterns along my back.

As I drift off, the warmth of his body enveloping me and the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath my head, I feel an overwhelming sense of peace. With Liam holding me close, sleep comes easily, and I let myself surrender to it, knowing that for now, everything is exactly as it should be.

Fourth Wing Masterlist - To be made Comment to be added to tag list

[artdcnaldson]

🌝 and if i speak about how i’d sell my soul for patrick zweig to come home after a long day of practice all sweaty and his bones aching!! and how i’d be like get your stinky ass in the shower but yet i’m on my knees blowing him while we’re in there!!! and then if i say that it would kinda be the dream if he teased during said blow job - “c’mon i waited all day and you’re not even gonna gonna take it all” “baby you can do better” “hold still let me just use your throat”

what would happen if i said all that!

If you said all that I may have to be inclined to agree <3

Because he loves when you act like you’re not absolutely aching for it. When you push his face away when he moves in to give you a sloppy kiss, simultaneously bone tired and keyed up and needing an outlet. His shirt is somewhere on the floor of the hotel room, his clothes like a breadcrumb trail leading to your spot in the center of the bed, his favorite toy to work out all of his pent up energy.

“I’m not fucking you until you shower.” You tell him firmly. And you’re not lying, technically. But if you join him in the shower, sinking to your knees, that’s fair game.

And he thinks you look so pretty on your knees like that— the tepid water pressure trickles down your face, plastering your hair to the sides of your face, mascara starting to run in fat black streaks down your cheeks. Tongue on the underside of his cock, tracing the long line of him up to his tip.

He relishes in your hunger, the way you can’t hide just how badly you want to be a willing hole for him to fill. He pushes his tip between your plush, inviting lips, watches your eyes widen in disappointment when he pulls out and slaps his cock against your cheek.

“Ah— clean me up first.” You make a face, something between annoyance and arousal, but you give in so easily. He groans as you stick out your tongue, lapping at him with soft kitten-licks. His fingers tangle in your hair, the pressure stinging as you make out with his cock. “Atta girl.”

Patrick likes making you wait— likes that desperate look in your eyes when you’re yearning for him to give in. Your lips are spit-slick and pretty as they move to his balls, laving them with the same attention you showed his dick.

And you look so pathetic, on your knees with a hand between your thighs playing with yourself. Getting off on him claiming your mouth. He’d take a picture, if his piece of shit phone wouldn’t die out at a single drop of water.

He takes pity on you, only after his desire to be buried in your mouth turns into more of an ache. His thumb pulls your bottom lip down, making you open wide for him. You stick your tongue out and swallow him down like a good little toy.

It feels perfect— he’d certainly trained you to take it the way he liked, but he couldn’t ignore the urge to be an asshole.

“C’mon, baby—“ the hand fisted in your hair tugs and your whimper vibrates around his length. “Like you mean it.”

Drool drips stringy from your lips, making a mess of your chin, making a mess of him. A firm hand on the back of your head urges you further, to take him deeper and deeper. Your throat constricts around the shape of him, your nose, pressed into the thatch of curls at the base of him, eyes going watery and glossy as he stills there.

You squirm, trying to pull back, catch your breath. He holds you there and you gag slightly as the head of his cock bullies the back of your throat. Fresh tears spill down your cheeks, and he takes pity— pulling you off of him and relishing in the way your chest heaves with each desperate breath.

“Look at you getting off on it.” Shame and arousal floods you in equal measure, because he’s right. Even as he uses you as nothing more than a warm, wet hole, you’re aching for more. You want to be useful, to be a nice little reward for him. “Open up and look pretty for me.”

And you do. Tongue out, mouth open and inviting. He goes slow, at first, letting you get used to the feeling of your throat being used. You look up at him, fingers moving faster between your thighs. You want this. You want more.

You’re moaning and gagging around him, eyes rolling back as you chased your own finish. You loved when he got like this— when he used you for his own release. You’d never admit it to him, not verbally, at least, but he could read you well enough. He watches you tense and tremble beneath him, bucking against your own fingers. Feels you moan around him, and knows he’s fucking done for.

He pulls out of your throat and jerks himself off while you kneel beneath him, tongue out, waiting for it.

He really needs a new phone, he decides.He’d take a picture of you now, face painted in thick spurts of cum, lips swollen and smiling up at him as if to say ‘thank you, Patrick.’

Thank u for readingggg <3

[goodlucktai]

only going up from here

rise of the tmnt word count: 4k pairing: leo & mikey i wrote this for one of my very favorite people and best friends, the bentley to my bookshop and ben to my sammy and mikey to my leo. HAPPY BIRTHDAY @mykimouser! i'm genuinely better off for having you in my life, it would be significantly darker around here without you. i hope your day is absolutely amazing and you're surrounded by people who love you and you get everything you want forever <3 title borrowed from bummerland by AJR read on ao3

x

If you asked Mikey if he was protective of Leo, he would say of course he is! He wouldn’t even have to think about it, what kind of question is that? He’s protective of everything and everyone he loves, and he loves all his siblings more than life itself.  

If you asked Mikey if he was overprotective of Leo, he would say whaaaat? I don’t—I think you’re breaking up actually, shhhcchhkkchhssh—and he’d artfully dodge the conversation by literally sprinting away from it.

The thing is, Mikey knows how annoying it is to have well-meaning loved ones go into hypervigilant mode anytime they come within a five-foot radius of your person. He’s been lobbying since he was twelve for Raph to take the kid gloves off! And throw them far away!! Down a deep hole that Donnie could fill with cement and Leo could plant fake biohazard warning signs around so that no one would ever dare excavate!! 

But Leo has always been independent, more than any of the rest of them. More than maybe he really wanted to be. He takes care of himself, like he has to—like there aren’t a half dozen people around him who would happily do it, who want to do it, who would jump at the first chance to prove that he can depend on them for anything. 

Mikey doesn’t know when Leo got this idea in his head that dealing with him is a chore but it’s an idea that grew up with him. That grew about ten feet taller after the Krang invasion. It’s always towering over them, keeping Leo even further from the people who love him with both its long unwanted arms. 

Sometimes Mikey can slink past those arms and find the hole that Leo hides in and climb in there with him. He’s the best at it, because he’s the smallest, and the one their enemy’s eyes tend to jump right over when they’re sussing out a fight. He can go places the others can’t. And it’s a rule of the universe that once he gets within hugging distance of his brothers, they’re compelled at a molecular level to hug him. 

When they’re holed up together, in that place Leo goes to when he’s alone, it gets a little warmer but it’s still cold. It feels like one of those early winter mornings when the shadows are the longest and darkest and cover more ground than they do the rest of the year and Mikey is just waiting for that spring thaw. He’s been waiting for what feels like forever, but he knows it’ll come. He knows it will.

Two months after the invasion, the sun peeks out.  

“I’m going to tío’s,” Leo announces to the lair, one foot out the door already. 

There’s an immediate crash from the lab, and the familiar sound of a weighted barbell falling on a snapper’s chest from the dojo, as two older brothers scramble to either throw their entire weight into stopping him somehow (impossible) or at least convince him that one of them should tag along (more likely, but Leo would not be happy about it). 

Mikey scrambles from his upside-down seat on the sofa to poke his head over the back of it and call out, “Can I come?” 

Leo glances back down the hall, probably calculating the seconds until his quick escape is botched, but then he looks back at Mikey with that crooked, mischievous smile that’s been Mikey’s favorite since he was two.

“Grab your shoes, Miguelito. We’re prison breaking.” 

“Gimme two shakes!” Mikey says over his shoulder, already bolting for his room. 

Mikey’s arms have mostly healed up from the golden portal he opened into the Prison Dimension. There isn’t a crack or a scar left but the lingering nerve damage is killer. The colorful custom arm braces that Draxum sourced for him help a lot and he’s good about remembering to wear them—so there is really no reason for their entire family to be such worrywarts about it. Especially when Don’s shell is still too tender for battle armor and Raph’s lucky he can still see out of his right eye. 

“It’s because you’re both the babies,” April said a few weeks into their collective recovery period, poking Mikey right on the beak that he had wrinkled in frustration. “The youngest in the whole clan. Even Casey Jr.’s older than you two. Deal with it.” 

Donatello is technically a month older than his twin, not that either of them care about pesky things like birth dates. They’re twins in their souls. Even though that means Leo has to grit his teeth and plot convoluted revenge when Donnie dares play the older twin card. 

But also, Mikey knows even though no one has come out and said it, they’re the two who scared the rest of their family the most. 

Donnie and Raph did what they had to do because it was their direct responsibility. Donnie was the only person alive who could have piloted the Technodrome with some degree of success even without his ninpo-powered technopathy. And Raph gave Leo his escape pod because his top priorities have always started and ended with his little brothers. If there had been another way out, he would have taken it. 

Mikey was willing to disintegrate to get Leo out, holding that portal open even though it hurt, even though every ounce of instinct and intuition was telling him to let go, even though he had no way of really knowing it would work the way he wanted it to. Leo threw himself feet first into hell for the rest of them and came out the other side broken and bleeding and traumatized, and he wasn’t sorry he did it. He would do it again, and again, and again. 

So—Mikey gets it. He does. 

It doesn’t stop him from cramming his Jordans on and snatching up the nearest hoodie—pink; he never gave that back to Raphie, oops. He whirls around to find Leo in his doorway, sword slung over his shoulder, weight braced on the neon blue foldable crutch in his opposite arm. 

“Little rowdy back there,” Leo says peacefully, regarding the state of chaos in the lair as their older brothers actively hunt them down. “Let’s take off from here.”

“You got it, boss,” Mikey chirps, hopping in place as he ties his shoe. 

The cyan portal opens as easily as April opens her bedroom window to usher them in for a movie night, bright and inviting. Having opened a portal of his own, Mikey has a brand-new appreciation for how incredible Leo’s ninpo is. He’s never hesitated to hop right through, even back when Leo was still getting the hang of it—either he’ll go where he’s meant to, or he’ll have a fun adventure wherever he does end up. Literally win-win. 

He steps out into Run of the Mill’s back of house. A harried server pauses mid-step to give him a strange look. Then she visibly clocks the blue of the portal behind him, rolls her eyes and continues on her way. Mikey beams at her retreating figure. She should know who Leo is, Leo is the best. 

Leo takes long enough to join him that Mikey has started poking around in the dry storage area. 

“Raph caught me,” Leo says faux-somberly. “I let him know we’d be home by dinner.” 

“With some calzones as a peace offering,” Mikey says with a nod, matching his grave tone. It makes Leo crack a smile, because it’s always charming to him when his siblings commit to the bit. 

“Can I please get through for a can of tomato paste,” a salamander yokai in an apron and unnecessary hairnet says loudly from behind them. Oh, they are kind of just hogging the whole doorway, huh?

“Weeeell, since you said please,” Leo replies, steering Mikey by the shoulders out of dry storage through the prep kitchen and out the employees-only door. 

Mikey ambles along agreeably, and accepts the hot basket of mozzy sticks Leo plops into his hands without questioning where it came from, and hops up into a seat at the bar since the dining room is pretty full. 

“I’m gonna go bug tío Hueso for a bit,” Leo says. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, and if you do—”

“—deny everything and throw Draxum under the bus however I possibly can,” Mikey recites. He would never actually throw Draxum under the bus—unless it was a really funny bus—but they both know that so there’s no point bringing it up. 

“You’re my favorite,” Leo tells him. He knocks his knuckles on the bartop to get the attention of the rabbit yokai back there and wiggles his fingers in a wave when he has it. The yokai’s fur poofs a bit, like always, and he immediately drops the handful of forks he was holding with a noisy clatter. Then Leo whirls off to go make trouble elsewhere, crutch slowing him down not at all. 

The rabbit yokai is one Mikey knows pretty well from a hundred other afternoons just like this one. Usagi isn’t old enough to serve drinks, but he likes to roll silverware behind the bar so he can prop his phone up beneath the counter and watch TikToks. He always watches the Hamatos when they come in—maybe one Hamato in particular. 

It would probably make him less flustered around Leo if he knew that Leo’s entire family had a betting pool going on the two of them. Or maybe it would make it worse. Hmmmm. Mikey won’t mention it just in case. 

“Hi, Usagi,” Mikey says cheerfully, popping open the lid on the marinara sauce nestled into his ill-gotten gains. “Mozzy stick?”

“Hi, Mikey,” Usagi replies. “No, thanks. I’ve already eaten like a million garlic knots today and señor Hueso is making me take the leftover lasagna home since Auntie isn’t back until—” He cuts himself off, embarrassed. He always volunteers a ton of information and then wrongly assumes his friends don’t want to hear about all of that and reels himself back in. “Anyway! How are things?”

“Good!” Mikey says. “I’ve been one-hundred percenting all my Pokemon games since I’m stuck inside so much.”

Instead of remarking on that, or on the bright eye-catching colors of his arm braces, Usagi says, “Woah, even Diamond?”

“Yeah! Ohmigosh, I forgot to tell you, I caught Feebas!” Mikey pulls his phone out to show him proof, the victorious picture taken of his Switch screen. “I finally had to just lock in and totally ignore my phone for like two hours. Raph definitely thought I died when I didn’t reply to a meme Donnie sent in our group chat. Check it out!” 

Usagi leans over the bar to see and his reaction is everything Mikey could have hoped for. He gasps, “It’s a shiny?” 

“It’s a shiny!” Mikey hollers, then ducks his head a bit when the actual bartender gives the two of them a pointed look. Tucking his phone away, he says, “So what is your aunt up to? And what does it have to do with leftover lasagna?” 

“Oh! Well, she’s visiting with her sister, and I told her I could definitely fend for myself while she was gone, but yesterday there was kind of an incident with the microwave—”

Someone settles into a stool at Mikey’s right, and cuts right over Usagi to say, “Hey, Michael, right?”

Mikey glances over to find a really tall cat yokai, tawny fur with a black rosette pattern which makes Mikey think of a jaguar, except his ears are long and fluffy, and his face is distinctly more human than feline. 

“Half-right,” Mikey responds, frowning. “You just completely talked over my friend, bee tee dubs.”

“I’m sorry!” the cat is quick to apologize. “I didn’t realize you were friends, I thought he just worked here. You don’t mind, do you?” he adds to Usagi. 

Usagi has the deer-in-headlights look of someone thrust into a social interaction they Do Not Want To Have, and Mikey cringes a little at himself for it. Resolving to make it up to him later, he swivels in his seat to get the attention back on himself. 

“What’s up?” he says, hoping they can speedrun whatever this is. 

“I was just wondering how you’ve been since the invasion,” the cat says. “We haven’t seen you or your brothers around here much recently.” 

“Yeah, we’ve been spending more time at home,” Mikey says, the usual canned response they’ve taken to giving when their friends and associates wonder about their less frequent appearances lately. “We had some close calls but—you know, we won, so.” 

Usagi’s ear twitches, and his mouth turns down, and he gives the silverware he’s rolling his full attention. He has a lot of feelings about the Hamatos being involved in a huge fight that he was completely unaware of until it was long over. Mikey thinks he would have helped if they’d asked him to. He’d definitely do anything if Leo asked. But how could they ask? 

The cat yokai says, “Yeah, I saw the footage. Very impressive.” 

Mikey frowns and stops turning his seat back and forth. “Donnie—my brother wiped all the footage with us in it.” 

“I’m sure he did. But someone captured a few minutes of your battle on a scrying mirror and it made the rounds down here.”  

Ugh, magic, Mikey thinks with derision for the very first time in his life.

He makes a mental note to ask Draxum about how they can get rid of that footage, too. 

If Draxum doesn’t know, Big Mama will. Leo is her favorite. 

“Did I see Leonardo come in with you?” the yokai is saying, leaning in a little. “A few of my buddies and I, we were wondering if we could interest him in a proposal.”

A suspicious little animal in the back of Mikey’s brain sits up straight and starts paying attention. It’s weird that the guy guessed at Mikey’s name but knows Leo’s. It’s weird that he’s been paying attention to their comings and goings from the one place in the Hidden Cities they frequent regularly. And it’s weird that he has a proposal for a teenager.

On the other side of the bar, Usagi’s eyes are dark and watchful. He and Leo can talk shop about kenjutsu for hours at a time, and in this second Mikey doesn’t have trouble imagining Usagi with a sword in his hand. 

“Why?” Mikey says. 

“Those portals—I’ve never seen anything like it,” the cat says. “He could do so much with that ability. I’m sure he’s got people falling over themselves left and right to offer him work, but my employer could probably double any standing offers.” 

He still sounds surface-level friendly and admiring, but there’s a rot beneath it all, sickly-sweet. A greed. Mikey abruptly wants this guy at least one ocean and a language barrier away from himself and his big brother. 

Yeah, Leo’s portals are second-to-none. It’s incredible, the way he can think in three different places at once and account for every single sibling on the field like he’s playing 5D chess while everyone else is playing checkers. He makes it look easy because he’s Leo, and that’s what he does—he makes impossible stuff look like a breeze. Give his ninpo to a clown like this cat and they wouldn’t be able to accomplish a tenth of what Leo has in two years. Even if they had a hundred years. 

And Mikey can feel himself falling into that trap that Raphael so often falls into—that Donatello is guilty of tripping into now and then—the overprotective one. In the same second he thinks about how capable and cool Leo is, he’s thinking about how he would do anything to keep creeps like this away from him. He’s thinking about how Leo deserves to be around people who like him and appreciate him for him, and not for what he can do for them. 

“He’s sixteen,” Mikey says coldly. To him, sixteen feels very grown-up, but he makes sure to say it the way everyone else in his family constantly says it. “If he wanted a job, he’d work here.” 

“Oh, yes!” Usagi blurts. Then, “Uh, I mean, we’re hiring.” 

“A guy who can portal like that, taking pizza orders? Please,” the yokai says with an amiable grin, like they’re all in on the joke together. “Seriously, can I give you my card? Let him think about it. He could, uh—do some real good. For the community, you know? The Krang left a mark everywhere, even here. If he wanted to give back, there are lots of opportunities.” 

He takes a monochrome business card out of his wallet and slides it across the bar. Mikey doesn’t even look at it. He can feel himself getting really, properly angry. 

Leo’s too clever to get played, but he’s so guilt-motivated. He’s got that huge shadow hanging over him that convinces him so easily that he has all this stuff he has to make up for. He has all this love he has to earn. If this creep framed his job opportunity to Leo as a way to give back, to help people in the wake of an invasion he entirely blames himself for, then Leo would be lured right in. It wouldn’t even be hard. 

Michelangelo is so. Sick. Of this guy. 

“Can I just save you the time?” he says, smiling super brightly. “He’s not interested.”

The yokai’s smile fades a little, expression distinctly less friendly, but just for a second. He looks at something above Mikey’s head, and the smile stretches back out again. 

“I’ll wait to hear that from him,” the guy says, nodding to indicate something behind Mikey. 

Looking over his shoulder, Mikey sees Leo and Hueso chatting as they emerge from the office. Leo is waving his hand while he tells whatever story he’s telling, bright and animated, a far cry from that frightened boy they pulled out of the Prison Dimension. He feels safe here and he doesn’t have to put on a performance for anybody here and it shows. It’s why Raph let him go earlier without much of an argument. 

Mikey isn’t about to let anybody ruin it for him. 

Hueso wouldn’t exactly thank him for starting a brawl in his restaurant during the late lunch rush—and Mikey’s done a really good job of not getting banned this month! 

So sabotage it is. 

He’s the youngest of five—six, now, with the addition of Junior to their ranks—and when it comes to big, wounded eyes and crocodile tears to shake dad off his trail and throw another sibling under the bus, nobody does it better than him. 

Moving fast, Mikey pitches himself sideways off his seat. The stool clatters over noisily and Leo looks up in time to see Mikey hit the floor. Picture-perfect. 

“Ow!” he cries out, only half-faked. He did kind of land on one of his wrists a little too hard. 

“What the hell,” the yokai says dumbly. 

Leonardo is beside Mikey so fast, Mikey’s not one-hundred percent convinced he didn’t teleport himself there. He crouches, broken knee and all, and says, “Gravity two-hundred and eight, Angie zero.”

“No fair,” Mikey protests, sitting up. “It was two-hundred and two yesterday.” 

“Well, this wipe-out was embarrassing enough it’s worth multiple points.” 

Despite his teasing, Leo is entirely focused as he tests Mikey’s wrist for pain. When that doesn’t cause more than a wince, he pulls at the velcro straps until it’s loose enough to slide off. Mikey patiently endures Doctor Leon’s careful assessment of his arm, and buckles the brace back on when he’s allowed to. 

“What the heck happened?” Leo only asks when Mikey is helping him to his feet. 

“That guy pushed me down,” Mikey said immediately, head lowered enough that he has to look up more than usual to meet Leo’s eyes. 

“What?” the yokai snaps. “I didn’t push you down!”

“Sure, I just decided to fall down for no reason,” Mikey shoots back sarcastically. 

“That’s exactly what you did!” 

Leo glances at Usagi, the only eye-witness. Usagi says, to the cat yokai, “I saw the whole thing, man. You’re really gonna sit there and lie?”

Oh, we’re keeping you, Mikey thinks gleefully, almost forgetting to ham up his hurt expression. 

The cat yokai is definitely pissed off, but Leo stands up tall and steps in front of Mikey, his body language daring the guy to say one unkind word about his little brother. Hueso takes over before anything unfortunate can happen, encouraging the yokai to get his food to go and also to consider never coming back to this establishment since he thinks it’s acceptable behavior to bully a child, et cetera. All in a day’s work. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Mikey sees Usagi sweep the business card off the bar and probably into the trash somewhere behind it. 

They hang out at the bar for the rest of the afternoon. Usagi isn’t on the floor today, restocking and cleaning and running food instead, so he gets away with chatting and sneaking them free cranberries-on-the-rocks up until they leave. Leo finds out about the leftover lasagna situation and convinces the rabbit to come over for dinner, including a calzone for him in their take-home order to sweeten the deal.

“Uh,” Usagi says, “sure. Okay. That’d be—yeah.”

“Nice,” Leo says. He sounds way cooler about it than Mikey knows for a fact that he is on the inside. But that’s Leo to a tee—make it look easy. Don’t let anybody in on the big secret that you struggle, too. You have to unlock like fourteen friendship tiers before you get on the other side of all that. 

They portal most of the way to their favorite manhole back home, walking the final city block for a few extra minutes under the warm red evening sky. 

“So what happened with Puss in Boots back there?” Leo says apropos of nothing, when Mikey’s dramatic rendition of his capture of the Feebas and ultimate one-hundred percent completion of Brilliant Diamond has winded down. 

Mikey looks at him sidelong, but Leo is still looking ahead. He does kind of need to pay attention, the city sidewalks aren’t always clear, but that usually doesn’t stop him from looking at his brothers while they talk, to his brothers’ eternal exasperation. 

“I told you, he pushed me.”

“Uh-huh. And what actually happened?”

Ughhhhhh, Mikey has only fooled Leo like three times in his entire life, why did he automatically assume this would be success story number four? 

“That guy was weird,” Mikey mutters. He watches the ground while they walk, his untied shoelace flapping around with every step. “He knew about your portals and wanted stuff from you. He was super shady, Lee! He was like if Kingpin from the Spider-Man comics and Gaston from Beauty and the Beast had a baby. And were cats.”

Leo snorts, and Mikey jerks around so fast he’s not able to hide his smile in time. 

Aha! Mikey thinks, doing cartwheels in his mind. He laughed, I win!

“I’m not gonna let anybody walk all over you,” Mikey says, clenching one fist in front of him. “I know that you don’t need anybody looking out for you—believe me, I know.” They share a commiserating look, two little brothers against the world. Leo looks distinctly amused, like everything Mikey does is worth watching and bragging about later. “But I just love you so much, Leo. If this was a perfect world, everyone would love you as much as I do. But since that’s impossible, and no one will ever usurp me from my number one spot as your biggest fan, then I’ll settle for everyone at least liking you as much as I do. Which is still a pretty high bar, but it’s doable. If they just put the hours in, if they, you know, worked for it—”

“Oh my god, Miguel, stop,” Leo says, pushing at his shoulder. Mikey sways sideways with the push and comes right back, undeterred. 

“I’m unstoppable!” he hollers, lifting both arms and punching his fists up above his head. 

“Yeah,” Leonardo says, sounding like his old self again—sixteen years old, the whole world in his corner. “You’re the best.”

Mikey thinks he could do anything, he could light up the sky, he could punch a hole in the dimension, he could travel through time—he can definitely protect his brother. He’s the only person in the world who can get away with doing it, after all. That’s a big responsibility. Good thing Mikey is big enough to hold it. 

Daylight is only an afterthought in the sky now, all those rich autumn colors dimming into deep, vivid hues of purple and blue. The tunnel home is just around the corner, and they’ll have to reheat the food when they get there, but they’ll have to reheat Usagi’s anyway. 

When Leo reaches over and strings his arm around Mikey’s shoulders, Mikey adjusts his stride, shuffles his takeout bags to one hand, and puts his arm around Leo right back. 

“Thanks, Mike,” Leo says. “For being on my team. I know I don’t make it easy.”

“Your team is the only place I wanna be,” Mikey announces, when he’s sure his voice won’t wobble and give the wet sheen in his eyes away. “If you ever try to kick me out I will make your life a living hell. It seriously would not be worth it for you. Don’t tell Raph I said hell.”

Leo throws back his head and laughs for real. His crutch skids on a dead leaf and since they’re attached to each other they both stumble wildly and almost drop the calzones and get dirty looks from other Manhattanites. It’s the kind of moment that becomes the kind of memory that settles deep in the core of a person, never to be forgotten. 

And Mikey sees it—spring. The sun is finally coming out. Someday really soon, he thinks, those shadows that cling to Leo will have to find someone else to haunt. 

Until then, he can be sunshine enough for them both. 

[elsweetheart]

Can I please have Abby dicking down her shy gf with a strap-on

Love your blog btw 💙💙

thank u !! 🎀

only you.

🎀 minors + ageless blogs do not interact !! shy!reader and dom!abby yum :)

• your face is buried into the pillow you hold against your chest. you can’t look at her, you can’t — or else you might finish before she’s even really gotten to fuck you.

• but it’s abby you’re with, and you knew your moments of hiding away from the pleasure weren’t to last long as soon as she catches on that your shyness is getting the better of you.

• she was rubbing the tip of her strap up and down your soaked core, letting it nudge your clit as you squirmed against it with a muffled whine. she slid it down towards your hole and pressed it against the tightness.

• “you’re tensing up. gotta relax for me.” she hummed in her deeper voice, a hand coming up to massage your hips as she finally looked up at you. “and stop hiding.” she held back a smirk.

• you whined, because it wasn’t enough that you were completely nude, your hips pulled up to be elevated sat on her thighs as she sits on the bed before you — but she also was now demanding that you expose yourself even more. “but i’m—”

• “shy?” she completed for you, having always used that excuse. she gently eased the pillow away from you and you stared up at her guiltily, pupils dilated and lips swollen from biting down on. “shy girls don’t get fucked like this. only you.” you figured it was meant to come out as a little degrading or teasing, but from her voice it sounded loving as she began to rub soothing circles on your clit making your toes curl and breath catch in your throat.

• “abby. please.” you let her take the pillow away fully, hands coming up to grab her strong arms instead. “i’ll relax, i’ll — i’ll be good.” you whimper, trying to grind down on the plastic cock she was withholding ever so slightly. she loves when she gets you desperate and all your shyness goes out the window, putting your pride aside to beg for her.

• “you’re always good. just need you to be brave.” she reiterated, and pushed the strap in slowly — the satisfying fullness making you moan out, going to cover your face but stopping yourself. she sighed out at how she could feel you gripping the girth of the strap, both hands dwarfing your waist once she was pushed in to the hilt. “see how good you take that? nothing to be shy about is there?” she blew a loose strand of hair that had fallen free from her braid out of her face before she began thrusting, the tip grazing your g spot already making you cry out.

• “abby, mhpmgh—” you were sobbing five minutes later, the sound of the plastic fucking into you creating a wet slapping sound through the previously cold room.

• “aw, where’s my quiet girl now hm? all desperate and whiney. you wanna cum so bad don’t you?” she panted, her lips grazing below your jaw as she dropped kisses there.

• “mhm.” was all you could manage when she snaked a hand between your bodies and thumbed at your clit once more.

• “tell me what you want. be brave one more time and i’ll let you cum all over my fucking cock. you want that don’t you pretty girl?” she commanded and your legs locked around her ass, trying to pull her impossibly closer as you felt the tightness in your tummy building.

• “please just keep rubbing me there. s’gonna make me cum abs.” you wailed out, and that was all she needed to drive it home— fucking you until you practically exploded beneath her.

• once she was finally done with you, and best believe abby likes to play with you for a long time — your shyness crept back in as you screwed your eyes shut, cringing at all the depraved shit that came out your mouth. she pulled you closer as she caught her breath from quite the ab workout and watched you carefully with a small smile. she stroked the frown line between your brows as you privately cursed yourself out until your eyes fluttered open, face smoothing out a little despite you still looking tense.

• “whats the face for?” she kissed your temple.

• “just embarrassed. i was acting all… dirty.” you avoided her eyes and she held back a laugh as to not embarrass you further. she took your chin gently in her grasp and made you look up at her with an earnest expression.

• “you sure were… it was pretty—” she kissed you. “sexy—” she kissed you again. “if you ask me.”

[bluegalaxygirl]

Hiiiii!! i’m so glad your back and i hope your doing well!!

I was thinking if you could maybe do a one shot/hcs about if zosan found their partner reading a spicy book???

Hope you have a great rest of your day!!

Thank you and that sounds like such a fun idea, i also thought id spice it up a bit so i hope you like. Also love the kitty with the Santa hat profile pic so cute.

Warning: Bad language, Sexual content but no smut and Making out

Reader is GN, Poly relationship, established relationship, Zoro X Sanji X Reader.

^ Your not a spicy book kinda person but you know who is? Sanji, even though he's in a relationship with two people he still has those magazines. The cook doesn't hide it from you and Zoro, you both know that he keeps them under the bed.

^ It some times bothers You and Zoro that he has those magazines but on the plus side the cook hasn't bought any new ones since he started dating the two of you. You know that since Sanji isn't shy about it, if you ask he will show you his collection.

^ Zoro never had an interest in that kind of thing, he always says how disgusting it is when ever he catches a glimpse of them or finds the cook looking at one. The swordsman does love to tease the cook about them though, making Sanji blush and babble much to your amusement.

^ So with all that said it was surprising to you when you found a hidden untitled book while cleaning your room that you share with the boys. Pulling out the bottom draw to put some clothes away something pink caught your eye on the floor right at the back.

^ It was a struggle to reach it, having to bend your arm over the back of the draw you pulled out to tease what ever it was forward and then having to reach under the chest of draws to pull it out completely.

^ The book was pink with a single rose on the cover, there was no title or description on it so you opened finally finding the title "Inferno Hearts", your first thought is that it's Sanji's and maybe he lost it but the book didn't have any dust on it.

^ You placed it on the side thinking you'll talk to Sanji later and see if it's his but as you were cleaning curiosity got the best of you so during your break you deiced to read some, it was deferentially romance but the content made you blush bright red.

^ You found yourself laughing, smiling and gasping at the content becoming enthralled with it, unable to put it down until you got to the spicy part. You froze but couldn't stop your eyes from reading the most intense and romantic seen you have ever seen or read, your hole face goes red just as the door opens.

---------- Story ----------

You were so enthralled by the book in your hands that you didn't hear the yelling from outside until the door to the bedroom flung open, you gasped from your spot on the bed as you looked up to see Zoro and Sanji yelling at each other, their shirts wet "Just say your sorry, it's not that hard" The cook growls undoing his stained tie while Zoro rolls his eyes shoving past the blonde to get into the room while taking his top off "You weren't watching where you were going" The swordsman growls throwing his shirt to the side before freezing in place looking at you on the bed with a bright red face holding a book in your hands. Sanji goes to yell back angry at Zoro for bumping into him when leaving the kitchen causing the try of drinks he was holding to cover both of them but stops when seeing the swordsman's wide eyes. Raising an eyebrow the cook looks over to you on the bed and gives you a smile, he couldn't help but blush at your cute flustered face "Hello my love, i'm sorry for disturbing you" Sanji takes a new shirt out of the draws starting to take his shirt off to put the other on. His words manage to snap you out of your frozen state and slam the book closed "Oh no, I'm sorry Sanji i should have asked before reading it" You try to laugh away your nerves as you move to sit on the edge of the bed, Sanji changes his shirt and throws on a new tie before walking over to you and looking over the book you hold out to him "My love you don't need my permission to read your book" He laughs a little while pushing it back to you.

Confusion strikes you while watching as Sanji does his tie, once he's done you hold the book out for him which he takes "It's not mine, i found it under the chest of draws while cleaning. I thought it might be yours" You state keeping your focus on Sanji as he flicks through the book but in the corner of your eye you see Zoro going into the draws and pulling out a shirt in quite the hurry "It's not mine, i'm more of a visual person than a reader of this sort of thing" Sanji laughs with a slight blush handing you the book back. Zoro rushes to leave the room while throwing his shirt on but is stopped by his name being called by you and Sanji. With a sigh the swordsman slowly turns around his face bright red while avoiding any kind of eye contact with the two of you "Zoro... Is this yours?" Sanji asks with a smile already knowing the answer by how the green haired man is acting, the flustered look, the rush to get away and the frozen state he was in as soon as he swore you reading the book told him everything. "N-No" Zoro rubs the back of his head while looking away from the two of you. A smile forms on your face as you stand up, the swordsman has never been the romantic type so you never thought he would read something like this. "It's ok Zo, it's actually really good" You state while walking over to the man with the book held to your chest, he still refused to look at you but somehow his face went redder "I mean it Zo, you don't have to hide things from us." You try and reassure him only to hear a snicker from Sanji behind you.

A quick look at the cook told him to shut up, Sanji jumps at your look before freezing in place and clenching his teeth, so he won't say anything. Looking back at Zoro his eye's shift to look down at you seeing a sweet smile and loving eyes "I know you don't want to be teased over it or for the others to find out so i won't do either and Sanji" You turn to glare back at the cook who looks down in shame "He won't tell anyone either but i know he will tease you over this" You sigh smiling back up at Zoro who relaxes at your words, Sanji nods as he walks over to stand next to you "Yea Zo, i won't tell the others but i will be teasing you over this, lets call it pay back for all the times you've teased me over my magazines" Sanji laughs while poking Zoro's side causing the swordsman to growl and grab the cooks tie pulling him closer "You two better not tell anyone" he growls as Sanji puts his hands up in defense and nods along with you. "As for the teasing, i can take what ever you throw at me" The swordsman gives a cocky smile while letting go of Sanji's tie, you hold the book out to Zoro, but he pushes it back to you "You can keep reading it since you seemed soooo into it" The swordsman leans down to be eye level with you causing your cheeks to go red "I mean it is good but... That scene" Your blush gets worse at just the thought, Zoro chuckles at you before pulling you into him by your waist "If it makes our Y/N blush then it must be super spicy.. Didn't know you were into that kinda thing Zo" Sanji starts to tease wrapping his arms around Zoro's free arm.

The swordsman tries to ignore him but when Sanji whispers something in the green haired man's ear the cook is shoved away "D-Don't say shit like that" Zoro's face goes bright red once again as he stutters stepping away from the cook and letting you go, Sanji smiles wide as he walks closer until the swordsman's back is up against the door, Zoro reaches for the handle to escape but Sanji grabs it first stopping the door from being opened "Oh come on Zoro. If you like the book so much, why don't we recreate it" Sanji teases making you blush but hold back at laugh at how flustered and panicked Zoro has become. "My love, why don't you read a part out to give me an idea of what to do" The cook gets close to Zoro's face who is almost frozen in shock and embarrassment unable to move as the blondes hand runs over his hip. You shake your head while walking over to the two, you wanted to save Zoro but then Sanji turns to look at you giving you a cheeky smile and a wink, you knew this was his payback and a good way to have some fun so you open the book. Deciding to go gentle on the swordsman you read out a kissing scene getting Zoro to stutter trying to tell you to shut up but you continued until that part was over. Sanji nods at you before brushing his lips against Zoro's "Your eyes are the light to my darkness, oh how i adore them" The cook whispers quoting the man from the scene as he presses his lips lightly onto Zoro who tries to push the cook away but can't seem to muster up the strength to do so. You blush at the two before putting the book to the side and walking over running your hand up Zoro's arm.

You can't let Sanji have all the fun plus the swordsman looks too cute all flustered. Leaning into the swordsman's neck you blow lightly in it causing the man to shiver while Sanji slips his tongue into the swordsman's mouth humming a little and letting his hand run up to Zoro's ribs. "I will always shine bright for you, so even in the darkest of night, you can find your way home to me" You quote the mans partner in the scene before lightly placing your lips on his neck, kissing up and down it in slow long kisses. Zoro can't help but let out a slight moan from the feeling, his heart pounding in his chest as different conflicting emotions run through his body. Sanji soon pulls away panting for air while placing his forehead against Zoro's who's eyes are still slightly wide while his whole face and neck are bright red "My dear, my angel of light -" Sanji whispers as his hand travels up your back getting you to stop kissing Zoro's neck and look up at him, the cook didn't need to say anything, you already knew what he wanted so you leaned in closer to Zoro's face letting your hand run up the swordsman's arm to rest on his shoulder while Sanji pulled away slightly his hand running through the swordsman's hair "I have always and will forever love you and follow your light" The two of you say in unison before kissing Zoro's lips, the three of your lips moving together as the swordsman's hands quickly wrap around the two of you holding you all close together. Zoro relaxes into the kiss letting out a hum of satisfaction, he may still be flustered but maybe the teasing wouldn't be too bad after all.

[imawh0r3-86]

Patching Up Mafia!Eddie After a Deal goes south

It is our lovely Evie AKA @funsonmunson-again’s birthday week! I believe I chose prompt number 13!

warnings: mentions of gun and knife violence, referral to blood, I think like two curse words, mentions of sex, my terrible writing.

You don’t know what’s going on. All you know is that it’s too late for this shit. It’s nearly 3 am and Eddie hasn’t come home. 3 am and you’re restless, having made your 3rd cup of coffee (Honestly it was sugar. Not a caffeine rush.). 3 am and the dogs haven’t stopped following you around, sensing your worry. Cerberus, the newest addition, is whimpering and you’ve tripped over him too many times to count or care.

You’re sure you’ve worn a hole in the kitchen floor with how many times you’ve paced it. A new wave of exhaustion hits you as you cradle your warm mug and you go to sit on the couch across the room, drawing your legs close to your chest. Cerberus comes to sit on your lap and Vecna rests his long nose on your knee.

You can’t stop thinking of all that might have happened to keep Eddie away. What if he’s hurt? Caught? You try not to think about any other implication of that, but of course sitting here, in his house, pictures of he and you in the most strategic places so no visitors could see, his dogs at your feet just trying to understand what was wrong, that plan obviously failed. Your face crumpled and hot tears streamed down your makeup-from-the-morning-before covered cheeks, your cat coming out of one of her many hiding places to curl up on your shoulders. You cry until your tears run dry, mourning what you don’t even know. Then the drowse overtaking you with the warmth of the animals and the hot drink running through you.

You sleep for what felt like 5 minutes, being woken up by the dogs barking and gravel crunching in the driveway, you keep your eyes shut, still trying to comprehend where you are, you hear the door open and close, the alarm beeping loudly before the code is punched in and the door locks.

“Hey boys, sorry I messed up your sleep schedule huh?” You hear his voice, whispering into the still light kitchen. You sit up and see the blood drops trailing along as Eddie walks around, opening cabinets in the kitchen and breaking the seal on a new bottle of bourbon. He’s not noticed you yet.

Diablo is the first to decide that it’s just dad and that you’re still better and saunters back over, nails clicking on the hardwood floor. “Ed?” you called quietly. You see him jump in surprise, instinctively reaching for his piece before noticing it’s you, his broad frame drooping noticeably as he walks over to you, stripping his harness and leg holsters, all the heavy weaponry dropping to the floor, spooking the cat.

You stand, an emotionless look spread on your face, tears of joy filling your eyes just to know he’s alive, standing in front of you, regardless of how hurt he is.

You open your arms and Eddie all but melts, curling his body over yours and wincing as he bent to nuzzle his face in your neck.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me Princess.” He mumbles right into your ear, you can hear his ragged breath under the skin of his tattooed chest.

You pull away from him in surprise, he winces at that too.

“Really? You think I’m not gonna wait up for you when you said you would be home 4. Hours. Ago.” You cross your arms and glare at him.

“Baby’m sorry it’s a new gang, they’re big and it’s- it doesn’t matter baby. Can we please go to sleep now?” He sounds so tired, his voice cracking from overuse.

This causes your gaze and heart to soften and you lead him upstairs.

You crawl into bed expecting him to just throw off his clothes and crawl in with you. But he doesn’t. He looks winded from the simple walk up the stairs, running his hand through his hair before undoing the velcro of his bulletproof vest and peeling it off, face crumpling in pain as he pulls it over his head and starts to unbutton his shirt.

He walks into the bathroom, Cerberus following him and nosing at his hand. Eddie sighs and rubs the puppy’s neck, his collar jangling.

You realize then just now exhausted Eddie must be, it’s how rigid his stance is, that makes you get up and stand next to him as he looks himself in the large mirror, peeling his shirt off to reveal a dark bruise on the side of his abdomen, a bullet shaped crater straight in the middle. He raised his arm and jabbed at it with a finger and hissed loudly.

“Fuckin HELL.” Ed bounced on his heels at the jutting pain.

“Baby that’s what you DON’T do are you tryin’ to hurt yourself more than you already are? What did you do, get shot??” You stepped closer to him and turned his body your way. You see several of the same bruises across his chest and a makeshift bandage made of blue surgical towel on his shoulder.

“Can you not tell by the bullet shaped divots?” He said unenthusiastically, staring down at you with unshed tears of exhaustion and pain in his calf-brown eyes.

|“Oh don’t be such a baby, you’ve had worse.” You feel comfortable enough to joke now that you know you’re boyfriend is not dead in an alleyway with coke in his pocket.

“Kitten, you couldn’t even take the judo flip I gave you yesterday.” Eddie gives you a pointed look while you bend over to get the first aid kit out of the cabinet. He makes no secret of ogling your ass in your PJ shorts, not even taking his eyes off of your hips and the way the tight fabric cups you in just the right place, in your looney tunes shorts mind you, when you turn around.

“Really? You must not be that hurt if you can still stare.” You put your hand on your hip with the kit in the other, eyes narrowed.

"C'mon baby, it's here that's hurt not my eyes!" He gestured down with his bruised hand. You roll your eyes and sit on the counter, beckoning him over to you.

"Kitten, you're really asking for it right now-" He starts with a chuckle, but is cut off by the light pop to his mouth, made by your hand.

"You're the patient. I'm the master." You use the latter word very suggestively and he definitely notices, what with the sudden huff he makes as he comes to stand in between your legs.

You push him back so you can see to pull the makeshift bandage off, revealing a rather gnarly-looking stab wound that had mostly patched itself over already. You look at him with sad eyes, because you can't imagine how much all of these bruises and knicks on his pretty porcelain body must ache and what he went through to get them all.

"What happened?" You say quietly while rubbing an alcohol wipe on the wound before putting a real bandage on it.

"Don't worry about it baby, alright?" He hisses when you poke at one of the bruises. "And leave those alone I'm begging you." Eddie cups your face and shakes it while he says this, his pretty face pleading.

You press a kiss to his nose and drop your hands.

"I can't do anything about those, so I guess you have to let them do their thing." You run your hand down his head to the hair tie holding in his tangled mane, pulling it loose and rubbing his roots.

He nods and steps back so you can get down and follow him to bed.

As you snuggle under the covers, you can't help but be grateful. Grateful for Eddie, for these killing-machine dogs that you love so much laying at the foot of your bed, for the ball of a white cat staring at you in the dark from the highest shelf in the room, for everything.

You and Eddie don't fall into your regular snuggling situation, since spooning would hurt, so you settle for throwing your leg over his and facing him, running your hands over his cheekbone as his breath evens into relaxation but not quite sleep.

"Ed?" You whisper, nearly straight into his ear.

He grumbles in response, his heavy eyelids barely fluttering.

"Please don't do that again.." You give a few butterfly kisses to the junction between his jaw and neck.

"I promise, honey." Eddie scoots a little closer to you, further wrapping his thick arms around what he can reach with the position.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Kitten."

[marksbear]

"I know who you really are."

JOE GOLDBERG X SLASHER MALE READER

Warnings! ONESHOT, Stalker joe, killer reader, killing, blood, gore, Y/n is a manipulator, animals eating human flesh, reader loves animals.

J/n - Job name.

JOE POV:

Everything was perfect. I had the perfect wife, perfect job and an amazing son.  Our life was perfect. 

Until he came. 

He was new to Madre Linda. He was young and ( tall,short, regular.) He never made an effort to talk to the other neighbors, only talking to them if he's spoken to or absolutely necessary. He lives alone but has multiple strange animals. Like snakes, way too many cats and dogs,birds, rats, raccoons, ferrets and fish. 

 Love and I watch him almost everyday to see is he a threat to break this “Peaceful and loving community”.  He sticks to a routine only breaking it to go to a neighbors party or event. In the morings he usually goes on a run for thirty five minutes and stops on the second when it is past thirty five. Then he’ll go back home and let his land animals walk around the yard for their fitfhteen minutes of play time. After that he goes back inside to eat and feed the pets.

Now it's work time. 

He hires a sitter most of the time, male but sometimes female. Once he gets the sitter ready and double checks with his animals he leaves for J/n. By the time he comes back it's about 10:10 on the dot. Sitter leaves with Y/n walking them to the door with a smile. And the smile disappears fairly quickly as they sitter gets into their car.  

Today

Sherry and Cary had this great idea to have the biggest house party in the neighborhood. To which the whole neighborhood agreed too and all went. But I didn’t expect that He was gonna be here as well. Which surprised everyone that he brought a lovely man with him named Ken. 

Love and I watched Y/n and Ken every single second of the party. Every few minutes Y/n will whisper something in Ken's ear about someone in the party. From Ken's reaction it had to be the most craziest and dark secret about them.

Y/n looks at his phone and doesn't spare a glance at Ken leaving the party. Ken quickly follows like a lost puppy making me scoff.

I turn to Love and she's busy talking to her so-called friends. I quickly exit the party going to my car and start it and turn the headlights off. I begin to drive slowly behind not drawing too much attention.

The couple walks to Y/n house without sharing any conversation. Once they get there Y/n opens the door for Ken who kisses his cheek as a thank you. I clench my jaw tightly and park my car somewhat away from his house.

3RD POV

"You are one lucky man Ken" Y/n says to him once he gets in the house leaving the door unlocked. "Really? How so Y/n?~" Ken asked seductively unbuttoning his dress shirt.

“Well it's simple most people never see an ecosystem this big and diverse in one house!” Y/n shouts with Enthusiasm smiling ear to ear to finally talk about someone beside the pet sitter about his animals. Ken lets out a fake ohhh. Y/n turns his face around to see Ken that's naked on his couch. “Before you get the wrong idea, I do have a license to own them. Don’t want you to think i’m some porcher.” 

“Come eat, girls and boys!” Y/n shouts walking to the kitchen and getting an axe from behind the fridge. 

Joe watches multiple animals leave their rooms upstairs hiding in the closest watching them pass. The house became silent for a while with only a few dogs barks. 

Joe slips out of the closet looking for an escape. He finds an open window and begins to approach it but gets stopped by a harsh hand on his shoulder. There Is Ken holding onto Joe for his life. Blood everywhere and bite marks and tiny holes from the bird's beak littered on his body and one of his eyes was missing also his other hand that looked like it was chopped off.

Joe uses all of his strength to push Ken off of him and makes a b-line to the window but gets bounced back from a strong chest. Joe hand springs to his neck gasping for air hitting the snake that is slowly suffocating him.

“That's Jane! She's a Boas constrictor. She's such a good hugger.” Joe's legs begin to buckle and his face turns a slight purple. “Just say the word and I'll help you.” Joe tries to speak but nothing comes out making Y/n laugh.

“Jane off.” The large snake immediately loses her grip and slither off the semi-purple man. “You remind me of my rats. Quiet and mysterious listening when you don’t expect anyone to listen. You don’t spread diseases and damage like them. You bring death and tragedy.” You walk up to Joe picking him up, taking him to the bird room and using one of the chains putting them on his wrist trapping him in the room.

“When you are well rested, You will help me out with the animals then text your wife your gonna be gone for a few days maybe weeks even. FyI this is the bird habitat so pray they don't poke your eyes out or something goldberg~"

"I think me and you are gonna be one great couple once Love is out of the way.~ Maybe i'll be your new Love or beck who knows?"

"I know who you really are joe..."

[nightxcreature]

Old MacDonald

Summary: On a hunt with Sam, Dean, and Bobby, Reader finds herself navigating an uncomfortable situation.

Warnings: Cursing (obvs), Claustrophobia, fear of snakes (mentioned), Prob grammar mistakes (sorry), Reader and Dean fighting for a brief moment

Pairing: Bobby Singer x Daughter!Reader, no established relationships

A/N: Sorry i went on a little hiatus, we're prepping for vacation, and I've been distracted getting everything ready for that. I hope you enjoy this one, its just a fun little hunt.

The small axe in my hands hadn’t touched the wooden floorboards since we arrived at the creepy cabin in the woods several hours before, the three men in front of me having taken it upon themselves to try and pry the wood apart with various other tools. We had been looking for the bones of an old farmer from 1780 and had been led here, in search of a tunnel where he had supposedly been disposed of. Dean had been using anything he could find to tear apart the old building, claiming demolition was his ‘specialty’…and I had rolled my eyes so many times at this point that I’m surprised they hadn’t gotten stuck in the back of my head. The three hunters had yet to find the tunnel under the home, throwing boards and dirt around the cabin haphazardly when Sam finally broke through into blank space below his feet.

                “Found it.” He called, bracing himself against the wall in front of him as he regains his footing, “Doesn’t look like any of us are fitting down there though.”

                I pushed off from the stool I had been sitting on to duck under his arm for a good look. The hole was roughly the size of a laundry chute, big enough for a child or small adult to fit through. I grimaced and shook my head, my thoughts already racing at the idea of someone having to go down there; I’ve never been claustrophobic, but I certainly wasn’t interested in developing the fear.

                “Any other ideas?” I ask, still staring down at the tunnel entrance. When no one answered, I slowly looked up and made eye contact with the two men across the room who were looking at me as if I had two heads. I glance up to Sam and raise an eyebrow, “Is there something on my face?”

                He chuckles awkwardly and shakes his head ‘no’ before pulling me away from the edge as he steps back, “I think you misunderstood me…”

                I look between him and the two men currently avoiding my gaze before pointing at the hole in the floor, “You said none of us are fitting down there. I’m not sure how I could misunderstand that.”

                He shakes his head again and gestures between himself, Dean, and Bobby, “None of us are fitting down there.”

                I gape open mouthed at him before bursting into a fit of laughter, “You’re hilarious.”

                None of the men reply, each avoiding my gaze in their own way before Dean mumbles under his breath, “You’re the smallest.”

                My laughter dies as quick as it started when I snap my head in his direction, “Yeah, the smallest, not the stupidest! If you want those damn bones so bad you go down there yourself.” I pointed a finger toward the hole, my other hand placed high on my hip as I glare at him.

                “Me? I couldn’t fit down there if I wanted to!” He yells back, crossing his arms across his chest.

                “So, you admit that you don’t want to?”

                “Who would want to go down there?!”

                “Exactly!”

                A shot goes off in the middle of the cabin causing the two of us to snap our mouths shut. Bobby stands in the center of the room, his shot gun smoking and a harsh look of annoyance on his face. He raises a single finger and points toward Dean, “I raised you boy, if I hear you yell at my little girl like that again I’ll skin your hide, you hear me?”

Dean nods his head and looks back at me, mouthing, “Daddy’s girl.” From behind Bobby’s shoulder.

I roll my eyes and stick my tongue out at him until Bobby turns that menacing finger in my direction, “And you,” He gruffly starts, narrowing his eyes and frowning, “Stop being a wussy and do your damn job. Ain’t a single one of us in this room that’ll let you die.”

A deep sigh leaves my lips as I hold his gaze, “He started it.” I mumble as I cross the room and grab a flashlight from the duffle by the door.

“I don’t care who started it, I’ll finish it.”

I shake my head, patting his back as I pass him on my way back to the hole, “Yeah, I know, Old Man.” I squat down by the tunnels edge and glare back toward all three of them, “If I die, just know that none of you can reach my bones down here and I’ll haunt you for the rest of your miserable lives.”

Sam nods, a slight smirk on his lips as he wraps a rope around my waist, tying it in a knot and grabbing the other end tightly, “Wouldn’t expect anything else.”

I let out a little laugh and glare at Dean playfully, “Better keep that magazine collection in a safe place…ghost me’ll be gunning for it.” I turn back toward the tunnel as he lets out an awkward chuckle, the smile on my face falling as I stare into the darkness. I take a deep breath and brace my arms on the edges before dropping down into the darkness below.

A quiet grunt leaves my body as my feet hit the rough dirt at the bottom, the flashlight had fallen from my loose grip causing the inky blackness of the tunnel to surround me. My breathing was heavy, and a shiver ran through me both at the temperature down here and at the thought of not being alone in this darkness. I scrambled on my hands and knees in search of the light, running my hands cautiously over the ground where I finally found the plastic tool.

“You good, Sweetheart?” I hear from above me, Dean’s baritone echoing down the tunnel as the sound reaches me.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright.” I click on the flashlight and crawl my way down the narrow tunnel, as quickly as I can, “Be right back!”

“It smells like ass down here.” I whisper to myself, squinting ahead to try and make out anything that even closely resembles bones, “You better be down here, Old McDonald, or I swear to god on this farm you’ll have my foot in your ass.”

At that, my light lands on a large brown bag thrown against the wall ahead, it looks to be empty save a small bulge at the bottom, “Bingo…” I point the flashlight up toward the ceiling and shimmy my way over the rocks and dirt between the bag and me. Gripping the mouth of the bag, I slowly slid my hand inside.

“Please don’t be a snake, please don’t be a snake. Please, please…” I breathe out a sigh of relief when my fingertips brush the brittle surface of aged bone, “Oh, thank God…”

I dump them out in a pile, glancing at them quickly to make sure they’re real before dumping salt on them and backing down the tunnel again, throwing a lighter as I go. I make my way quickly back to the entrance and stand, bracing one foot on the dirt wall in front of me, “Pull me up!” I yell, feeling a strong tug as one of the guys yanks on the rope. I climb my way up, grabbing onto Sam’s hand as he lugs me the rest of the way out.

“That wasn’t as bad as…” I glance between the three of them, each looking like they’ve had the shit kicked out of them and I grin, “Did he finally show up to stop us?”

Dean rolls his eyes, throwing dirt at me and grabbing his duffle bag, “Just get your shit and lets go.”

I let out a loud laugh, grabbing my bag and throwing it over my shoulder, “You wish you would’ve been the one navigating the tiny hole now, huh?”

[someplace-darker]

Kinktober Day 12: Hate/Angry Sex | Frank Castle

Pairing: Frank castle x reader (no y/n)

Wordcount: 2.1k (jfc)

Warnings: 18+, PWP, hate sex, canon-typical violence, blood, floor sex, they fuck in a dingy abandoned building, reader is afab but no pronouns are used

Summary: Frank makes a mistake that you pay for, and you hate him for it. You hate him for not saying anything about it. Or do you.

A/N: This is so much longer than I intended it to be but this is for leo and my roommate who is also feral off the fucking walls for frank. Which i mean, yeah, understandable.

The bullet wound in your leg is throbbing, metal still buried in your thigh as Frank had  so graciously observed when he prodded at entry wound. “There’s no exit, we have to get that outta there,” he mumbles and the pain makes you want to scream at him to speak up, tell him to stop with the fucking bedroom voice when you’re two seconds away from passing out. Then again, Frank always talks like that and you can’t tell if it’s a you thing or if he’s truly just a man who sounds like a caged animal growling at its captor. 

“Jesus christ Frank, get us out of here before I start crawling,” you grit your teeth, fighting with everything in your body not to cry out when Frank scoops you up off the concrete floor and heads toward the black truck parked outside the door. “Just stole this car too,” you groan once he pulls open the door and sets you on the tan passenger seat, apparently feeling kind enough to pull the buckle across your chest and pressing it into the clip. 

Time is beginning to warp in your head, blinking sluggishly as he closes the door only to open them to lamp posts passing you on the highway.

“Try not to fall asleep,” Frank’s jaw is tense, only glancing at you for a second “you might have a concussion, and it’d really suck to hide your body if you bled out right now.” That gets a huffed laugh from you, deciding against biting back at him just for now. You’re too tired, and the cool glass of the window feels really good against your cheek. 

It takes singing softly under your breath until you reach the warehouse to keep yourself alert, much to Frank’s chagrin, his stone faced expression as he carries you through the entryway saying more than he ever will. 

The shock of the night is beginning to wear off by now and you wish you had something to mute the pain, something to keep you from screaming when you inevitably will have to remove the bullet, but you don’t so you resign yourself to the agony prematurely. The small room you find yourself in is incredibly barren, the walls stripped of color, the grey paint making your head spin more than it already is. 

He sets you in a rickety metal chair, the steel digging into your ass uncomfortably but you brush it off, the hole in your leg more of a concern than your comfort. “I’m gonna have to pull that out, and I can’t have you fighting me while I have tweezers in your leg,” Frank grumbles, squatting down to rummage through a cabinet until he finds a bottle of alcohol and dollar store medical kit. 

“So you can steal cars but you can’t steal better medical supplies?”

Frank just ignores you, dragging another chair to stop in front of you so he can sit, setting the kit beside his boots. He brings the bottle to his mouth and bites down on the cap, popping it off with his teeth before passing it to you. You don’t even bother to sniff it to find out what it is, taking a swig instead to hopefully dull the pain. It burns going down, the air in your chest being punched out by the potentness of it. 

The distraction is fleeting, bottle being taken from your grasp and poured onto the open flesh without warning. 

It’s too much, an unbearable flare spreading throughout your body, scream tearing its way from your chest before your vision goes black and you slump forward. 

-

There’s something weighing you down, holding you to your spot on the cot for the next however many days, unable to keep yourself conscious for more than thirty seconds. You see brief flashes of Frank between it all, sat by your side, pacing the room, sleeping on the ground next to you. At one point you even think he’s holding onto your hand. 

When you finally do properly wake up it’s dark outside, the frosted window in the room showing no sign of the sun outside. Your leg twinges uncomfortably but it’s bearable, the voice in the back of your head rattling the cage of your conscience. 

Never again. I will not go through that ever again.               

It takes another day or two after that for Frank to even consider speaking to you, and it’s only to change the bandage. Fury simmers in your chest and you put your hand against your sternum and rub in an attempt to make it go away. You’re too tired to fight with him, but he’s said absolutely jack shit since that night. 

“You could at least say something to me after you almost got me killed,” you snap when he begins to clean up the wrappers and cotton swabs, packing everything back into the case. A muscle twitches in his neck at your comment, shoulders rolling back like he’s shrugging off your presence. 

“No,” you seeth, standing from your seat to hover over his crouched form “you’re going to acknowledge me. The big bad Punisher can’t handle himself long enough to check that there’s no collateral? That maybe he should stop beating the already down man and check on the person who came along to help?” Somewhere between the two of you is a line that you’re ignoring, a line that is being grazed against a bit too much but you can’t seem to stop yourself.

“I have stayed quiet. I have gathered information for you, I have-” you swallow the lump in your throat, fighting the urge to cry from the overwhelming amount of rage in your system “I have dragged your ass from situations where you would’ve died had I not been there.” Frank still isn’t looking at you, instead wiping off bloodied medical sheers and placing them in the box. 

Only when you rear your healthy leg back and kick the kit across the floor does he blink up at you. You still stand above him, looking down at his face for some sign that you’ve gone too far. Despite your lashing out, Castle is a soldier through and through, giving no tell that you’re treading on thin ice even if you yourself can tell. 

“Fucking say something Frank! Anything at all would be great,” you shout, taking a staggering step back when he stands abruptly to his full height, looming over you. 

“What do you want me to say, huh? That I fucked up? I’ve been aware of that since you passed out from shock and blood loss,” his voice is tight, the mix of tone and lack of facial expressions making you uneasy. His eyes are his biggest downfall, that being the only source of emotion you can read off him. 

“Maybe,” you hiss, jabbing your finger into his chest to get your anger across. You know you’re being excessive, you know that if he wanted to he would stop this, but he’s not. So you continue.

“I think you’re too focused on your own bullshit agenda to care about the people around you and I hate you for it,” you turn your jab into a shove, pushing at his chest and causing him to step back. It’s kind of annoying that you put genuine force into it and all you get in return is three more inches between the two of you. Still, your lips curl into a sneer, reinforcing your statement.

“I hate you.”

Frank processes what you’ve said, a crack in his mask forming when he licks his lips. He nods, and you think that’s going to be it. You’re going to go your separate ways and you’ll never see him again. But Frank is a many of many surprises, opting to close the distance between your bodies and grip your chin tightly in his hand. He tilts your head up to eye level, tipping his head down and you think if you moved in the slightest, your noses would brush together. 

“See I don’t think you do,” he husks, eyes flitting from your eyes to your mouth and lingering there “I think you want me so bad it makes you look desperate. It makes you angry that I don’t give you the attention you need. Is that what you want, huh? You want my attention?”

His statement has you glued to your spot, stomach twisting into a knot with excitement. The delay in your response makes him grunt and he pats your cheek with his hand to get your focus. “Yes,” you force out, aware of the slow inching of his mouth towards yours “I want your attention. I want you, Frank.” 

Frank’s mouth is on yours immediately, his kiss so possessive it feels like he’s two seconds away from consuming you in your entirety. There’s no sense in making it to the makeshift bedroom, the cot won’t be able to support both of you. You slide your hands down to the waistband of your pants, hooking your fingers in and shimmying them down your legs between frantic kisses and shared breaths. 

Frank follows suit, undoing his jeans and letting you help, taking the task of kicking them off to himself while you dip your hand into his boxer and grip him. He’s only semi-hard and already big, and for a moment you wonder how he walks around with it. Groaning into your mouth he pulls away, pulling his shirt over his head and then reaching for yours. 

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, growling in frustration when he’s unable to get it up off of you, grabbing the neckling and tearing it with ease. Despite yourself you laugh, delighted with the outcome of your argument, now pumping his cock in your hand with one less shirt than you had before. 

It’s like your brief self defense class with him all over again, wrestling each other to the floor in a pile of skin and sweat but this time the outcome is different. Instead of you tapping out, he’s holding himself above you on his elbows, waiting until you’ve positioned him at your entrance before pressing in slowly. Hatred melts into lust, melts into a kind of affection that had been previously submerged deep within you. 

“You run your mouth so much but the second you get my dick in you, you forget how to speak,” Frank scoffs, pulling out almost completely before slamming his hips into yours. The wound on your thigh burns with the position and aggression of it, but in some sick twisted way it makes the gratification that much heavier. Maybe that’s what this is, you think, a sick and twisted relationship between two fucked up people in an abandoned building. 

Frank fucks you like he hates you.

You dig your nails into his shoulder to draw blood.

It’s a struggle between predator and prey, a clashing of teeth and skin and mouths and limbs. But god if it doesn’t feel like the most fucked up depiction of heaven. 

Frank grabs the back of your thighs and pushes them up close to your chest and you shout, blinking back tears when blood begins to seep through the white gauze taped to your leg. “So fucking close Frank,” you plead with him, fisting your hand in his hair and pulling his head down to press your nose against his cheek, panting in his ear. It seems to spur him on, his cock  deeper into your cunt and his hand shifts to slide against your clit. 

“How pathetic,” he groans, palm bearing down against you in a circular motion “you hate me so much but you’re about to cum on my cock. Come on then, sweetheart.”

You do as he says, curling in on his body and pressing your face into the crook of his neck, cumming with a body wracking shudder. He coaxes you through it, removing his hand from your pussy to lift your ass. Frank cums not even thirty seconds after you, burying himself as far inside you as possible to finish. The concrete floor is beginning to make your back ache, and the throbbing in your thigh is more prominent as you come down from your high. 

Frank notices the blood and curses under his breath, pulling out of you with a hiss and reaching for the supplies that you had kicked away earlier. It’s quiet as you collect yourselves, Frank handing you his shirt to put on since he ruined yours, repatching the wound in silence. Guilt rises in your body and you clear your throat, reaching a hand out to rest on top of his.

“I don’t hate you. I shouldn’t have said that,” you whisper, blinking up at his brown eyes. 

Frank nods, thumb coming up to rub your hand “I know. And I won't let you get hurt again. I promise."

[emwritesstuff]

housesitting | bucky barnes x reader

summary: Housesitting for Steve Rogers has many perks. The man has the comfiest bed you’ve ever slept in; his coffee machine is top tier; and he also pays for every single streaming service you could think of, because he doesn’t wanna miss anything.

You can hardly see how Bucky Barnes stumbling into his apartment at 3 am with multiple wounds is one of them. But I guess it might be?

notes: this is my attempt at a more ~comedy centered one-shot, with some making out in the middle because uh, who doesn’t like that? In other news, reader is Chaotic. Canon mcu (Infinity War/Endgame) is non-existent in this.  (word count: 3K)

warnings: language, mentions of blood, gunshot wounds, general patching up shenanigans, some making out/grinding but not quite third base

[PART 2: breaking and entering]

Housesitting for Steve Rogers has many perks. The man has the comfiest bed you’ve ever slept in; his coffee machine is top tier; and he also pays for every single streaming service you could think of, because he doesn’t wanna miss anything. An old popsicle thing, you assume.

It’s peaceful, too. The neighborhood is nice and quiet, the other tenants are either extremely polite or too scared of Captain America to make much noise. You’ve had very nice stay-cations at his place, where you were free to choose to binge The Office while eating an entire pizza in the spam of 2 episodes or taking advantage of the quiet to write your grad-school thesis.

So when a loud BANG almost makes you drop your coffee mug on the floor, your spidey senses are immediately on alert. You don’t care how many times Peter insisted that it wasn’t a thing, your arm hairs stood up and your heart started hammering on your chest all the same.

You contemplate squeezing under the bed, turning off the show that was long abandoned and hiding until whatever it is goes away, but before you can do any of that, a string of sharp cursing and soft thumps and thuds snaps you out of your fear.

Maybe it’s a burglar. You could take a clumsy burglar, easy.

Now feeling like Tony had just welcomed you into the Avengers, you hop off Steve’s bed and let your baby Yoda socked feet carry you stealthily into the living room, holding a table lamp as if it was a baseball bat.

Everything is quiet, with no signs of forced entry at the door (you remember someone on Law and Order using those words), and in the dark you don’t notice the bloody trail coming from the kitchen.

You’re imagining things, then. When was the last time you slept? You don’t even feel tired, but you know sleep deprivation always gets you all kinds of crazy.

It happens the second your arm falls to your side and your posture shows the slight of relaxation. A strong arm around your neck and a hand against your mouth to muffle the screaming.

In the quiet of Steve’s apartment building, there is only you shrieking and howling and thrashing against the hold of a stranger.

“Don’t fuckin’ move.” You still.

And then you bite into the hand that is muting you, immediately regretting it when your teeth sink into something hard. Metal? Concrete? Ouch. You resume your resistance, determined, and is shoved away.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Who the fuck are you.” His voice is gruff and dulled over the mask he is wearing, and as you’re taking this giant of a man in, you notice it.

The metal arm. The strapped leather jacket. The tortured blue eyes.

Winter Soldier.

The intruder is James “Bucky” Barnes, Steve’s best friend. That’s who the fuck it is.

“I’m Steve’s house sitter! I even have a key.” You say, with arms in front of you to signal no harm but inching closer to the table lamp with every step.

“House…sitter? Where’s Steve?”

“Who knows. Maybe a mission. He texts me, I come over.” You shrug, and put a chair back to where it was before it got knocked over.

“I don’t believe you. Where is Steve?”

“Listen, I don’t know, okay? I guess he’s just out for a few days. I don’t ask. He just lets me stay in here so I can water the plants and feed the Avengers.”

“The– the what?”

“The Avengers! The fish, see.” You point to the aquarium, where a handful of colorful fish swam peacefully in.

Peace. So much for your peace, because now what you have is a surly super soldier eyeing the fish tank like it was the most loathsome thing in the entire universe, except maybe for you.

“I hate this thing. Naming them makes it even worse.” He trudges back to the kitchen, stomping on the floor like he was on a parade.

So much for the other people’s peace, too.

“Hey! Sir. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s 3 in the fucking morning?” You sass, putting your hands on your hips when he retorts that yeah, he does know. “What are you even doing here?”

“Back from a mission.” He grumbles without looking at you, as if you’re the one who stumbled into his place in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t your place, but still.

“Don’t you have a house?” There’s a part of you that knows pushing the Winter Soldier’s buttons is asking for trouble, but your tired and confused brain decides to ignore it.

“You interrogating me? I need a motherfucking– ” He wheezes and nearly doubles over, holding on the door frame between the living room and the kitchen. You finally spot the blood, both on the tiles and seeping out of the Soldier’s jacket and pants.

He’s hurt. Shit.

“– first aid kit.”

“You need a motherfucking hospital!” You shrill, panic chilling your bones. You don’t do blood. Or any kind of wound, for that matter.

The man ignores you, opening up cabinets hastily. You huff, and walk past him to get to the actual home of the first aid kit. Steve’s oldest, closest friend and can’t even find a box with pharmaceutical supplies in his kitchen. You slam it on the counter next to him.

“You’re welcome.”

“Zip it.”

Just a look from him is enough to render you speechless, and not in the good, butterflies-in-your-stomach kind of way. You’re positive that one swat of that metal arm and you’ll be flying out of the window.

He begins by removing his mask, revealing a handsome face underneath, and you try your best to focus on how dark and menacing it looked while locked in that scowl of his. Then, he unbuckles his jacket and discards it on the floor, it coming to a stop next to your feet.

Oh man, he’s naked. Well, not really, just the incredibly toned, strong and muscular top half of him, but you stare wide-eyed as if he was.

“See somethin’ you like, doll?” He quips, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and you turn your back to him, mostly to hide your own embarrassment.

“No.” You cross your arms resolutely, because you definitely don’t think he’s attractive. He is a rude, grumpy, private-property-invader-bastard. Doll. Yuck.

You hear a rumble come out of his chest. Is he laughing? Shithead. Other noises follow, wheezes, small grunts and the tinkle of metal on the marble counter.

A particular pained grunt makes you turn, and you see Barnes with his body twisted, trying to reach a bloody hole on his back. It would be funny if he wasn’t trying to poke a gunshot.

“Do you need… help?” You ask, against your own will, only to be met with his icy gaze.

“No.”

“Come on, you can’t even reach that.”

Another glare is shot your way, and you quirk your brow up. He did need the help, you think, because aside from the muscles and the sweat making him glisten like a delicious – wait what – glazed donut, the man looked like hell.

“…fine.” He slides a pair of surgical prongs, something you identify in your head as oversized tweezers, and you instantly regret your offer. Pressing an iodine-soaked cotton ball to a wound, sure. But not this.

He turns his back to you without a word, supporting himself on the marble. You think that he’s about to make a dent on the goddamn stone if he keeps holding onto it that hard.

“Ah, fuck. Shit. Fuck. Ugh, it’s so gross. Fuck.”

It’s the most horrifying thing you’ve ever done, but you try your best to get to the bullet quickly, so very thankful that Barnes holds himself perfectly still for you. “Got it!”

He lets out a long breath when you toss the prongs and the bullet on the counter with the rest and resumes his cleanup. So, he’s not even going to say thanks. Great.

You try not to think about how you still want to make conversation while you hurriedly scrub the blood from your hands, because aside from the hostility and him jumping on you as a meet-cute, the guy peeks your interest.

Steve has said Barnes is nice, too, and you believed Steve, because he’s basically incapable of lying. Or maybe because he’s pretty. Both, for sure.

With your hands now clean, you turn to him, mouth open with some kind of conversation starter that is immediately forgotten.

Oh man, he’s naked. For real this time.

Bucky Barnes has stepped out of his pants while you were overthinking by the sink, now standing in only a pair of black boxers. It’s like he feels you staring at his butt, because he turns to you with raised eyebrows.

“Last one’s on my thigh. I got it.” He’s holding the prongs this time, and you’re glad you don’t have to do anything, because your face next to that groin might make you go into spontaneous combustion.

“Yeah.”

He hums. You hope all of this is a fever dream.

“Isn’t there a med bay at–”

“Don’t like people prodding and pokin’ at me.” His comment makes you grimace. He’s the Winter Soldier, damn it. You know the stories, everyone does. Of course he doesn’t like being prodded.

He looks at you funny, probably because you went dead quiet. You don’t want him to think you feel pity, because you don’t, but god don’t you feel bad for poking him now, even if verbally.

“I’m gonna – grab one of Steve’s – uh. Dude you need to put some clothes on. Jesus.”

He laughs at you again, which you’re thankful for because anything is better than the awkwardness of the other subject. You pick up a black pair of sweatpants that was so deep in one of Steve’s drawers that you know he’d have to have bought it and never had the guts to put it on. This one would do just fine.

If there is one thing Steve Rogers isn’t, is a black sweats guy.

“Here.” You deposit the sweats and a white tee on the counter, one of the millions that you found inside the closet. Barnes was patching himself up now, bandages wrapped everywhere on his body.

Got his ass kicked good. You shudder when you imagine the state of the other guy.

He eyes the clothes, and saying nothing, returns to his task. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I didn’t ask you to help me.”

“Yeah, but I did anyways! ‘Cause I’m stupid, I guess.” You almost hurl a dirty plate at him when he scoffs, muttering a yeah, guess you are. “God, why are you so grumpy?”

“Well you try being shot 5 times and see how cheerful you are after.”

“You got shot 5 times?!”

Looking at you from between his brows, the Soldier nods to the five mangled bullets sitting on the counter. You think about how you’ve made yourself a sandwich just hours earlier on the exact same spot. You want to puke.

Taking time to look around yourself, you can finally grasp the state of Steve’s ever-so-pristine kitchen, now a mess of dirty clothes, blood and your own few dishes from the night before. You don’t even think about what you’re doing as you move, gathering every single cleaning supply you can find, and start working on the cleanup.

You’re struggling, because obviously you’ve never done this before. Anyone can tell, from your soft abdomen and your severe lack of muscle, that you’re not an Avenger. Sure, you work with them, but you’re usually neck deep into advanced tech, not in the gym by any means. Also, you don’t do blood.

That means you have to think about something else, anything else, while you’re manically cleaning the floor. One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, the Winter Soldier’s tight ass, four sheep, get it together goddamnit –

“Leave it. I’ll clean.”

You huff, he huffs back, and you look up at him.

“You got shot five times. Go sit down or something before you blow your back too, grandpa.” You call him that to assure yourself that he is old, like actually super old, and thirsting over him is weird. Even weirder when he’s all bandaged and bleeding. And still shirtless. Shit.

He mumbles something that you ignore, and stomps off. You think you actually did a pretty decent job with the cleaning, considering.

You need coffee. Definitely an entire bottle of vodka too, but there was no alcohol in this god’s good home, so you settle for the brew that you made earlier. You pour a mug for Barnes too, because you’re nice like that, and amble into the living room to find him slumped on a chair.

“Coffee?” You start, settling his mug on the table next to him.

“It’s almost 5 a.m.”

“Guess I’m up early for once. Maybe I should go for a run.”

He snorts, and opens one eye to inspect you from where he is. He reaches out for the coffee, using his metal hand, and you consider the two ways this could go.

He’d shatter the mug right then and there. Or, he’d throw it at you. Your jaw goes slack at what he actually does, sirens blaring loudly in your head. Truly astonishing, the most bewildering turn of events.

He drinks from it.

“Thanks. Quit staring at me.”

“Wow, Mr. Winter knows the magic words. Mr. Barnes. Sergeant?” You’re thinking aloud, abandoning any trace of sanity you’ve been holding. You even sit on the couch next to his armchair.

“It’s Bucky,”

Again, absolutely bewildering. You must be going insane.

“– and you talk too much.” He finishes, with an end-of-story tone, and returns to his rest. At least that felt like normality.

“Bucky. Bucky.” You roll the name on your tongue, feeling a weird buzz start to take over you. It grows stronger when you notice he’s looking at you, one brow quirked as if you lost your marbles. “You know, Bucky, this is definitely not how I saw my night going. Home invasion, playing surgeon – not my usual kind of fun.”

You get up, maybe because you decide that you – and Bucky – need a blanket, or maybe because you need a distraction from his chest going up and down like it’s got a business with making you want to touch it.

You’re not a slut, but who knows? Jim Halper would get it.

“You’re that kid, aren’t you? Stark’s assistant.” Bucky’s voice, low and husky, makes you jump. You look at him, your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

It’s surprising that he knows you, considering. He’s – well, he’s basically a celebrity, if ex-assassins could be considered that. You’re only Tony’s techie, and you and Bucky have never actually met, not even in the few parties you had attended to stop your boss from nagging you that you had to actually go out and have some fun sometimes, because you’re still young and cute and you need to enjoy yourself before you get saggy and bitter.

Jokes on him, you were born bitter.

“I’m no kid.”

“Nice socks.”

You wiggle your toes and it makes the ears of one of the baby Yodas move.

“Still not a kid! If you wanna be sad and wear your sad, plain socks, Bucky, that’s entirely your choice.” You said, pointing your index at him, making circles in the air with it to really get your point across.

Bucky smirks, and you go up to him with the two blankets on your arms. He’s blocking the door with that bulky body of his, and you raise your eyebrows quizzically.

“I’ll have you know – meeting Steve’s annoying, mouthy, pretty house sitter is not how I saw my night going either.” Bucky puts a doubtful tone on house sitter, as if he still doesn’t get exactly what it means.

You blink. You’re positive you heard it wrong. Is he… is this flirting?

“You think I’m pretty?”

“I called you annoying and mouthy too.”

“Yeah, I mean I know that much about me.” You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “The pretty part is new though.”

Bucky still hasn’t moved from the doorframe, and you find yourself staring up at him. He is inches away now, pupils blown wide in the darkness, and you can see a ring of steely blue around them. He licks his lips, and you’re drawn in.

The maelstrom in his eyes sends you spinning.

“I think someone should say you’re not see through, much less–”

Bucky shuts you up by pressing his lips onto yours, a slow, exploratory kiss, the tenderest he’s been all night. His metal hand rests on your lower back, making you shiver at the cool touch.

You’re all panting and eagerness when you cup his face with both hands and press your body against his. You need to deepen this kiss. You haven’t drooled over Bucky Barnes all night to keep things lovey-dovey.

He responds in earnest, pulling you closer. The flesh hand on the back of your neck is a stark contrast against the chill of the other. You and Bucky stumble from the corridor and back to the living room, knocking over a few of Steve’s decorations in the process.

“I don’t feel as bad for this one.” You mumble against his lips, stopping to look at a particular framed picture of Captain America in uniform, surrounded by every single counterfeit Cap in Times Square.

“S’ one of his favorites.”

You nod, you’re aware. Steve thinks it’s the most hilarious thing ever.

Bucky’s breath tickles the hairs on your neck when he continues.

“I hate it.”

“Yeah.”

You capture his lips again, and you two resume your chaotic redecorating. You’re thankful for Bucky’s strong arms keeping you from falling over, because at this point you’re not sure if your legs work anymore.

He takes you with him when he drops down on the same armchair from earlier, and the dizzy spell you find yourself in is broken when you hear him groan.

Right. He’s battered up and stuff.

“Shit, Bucky, I’m sorry–”

“No.” He pulls you close again, and guides your body to straddle one of his thighs. “Stay right here, doll.”

Doll. God-fucking-damnit.

His hand moves under the elastic band of your pants, oh my god you’re making out with Bucky-Hot-Piece-Of-Ass-Barnes in your wiener dog pajama bottoms, and finds the hem of your underwear. He pulls on it, and you yelp when he lets it snap against your side.

He laughs, and you vibrate along with his chest.

You find yourself grinding on his leg, sucking on his bottom lip, raking your nails along his shoulders, doing anything, everything for more, trying to burn the taste and the feel of him on your memory. He moves on to kiss your neck and you sigh, tugging on his hair and making sure you’re holding on for dear life.

Your eyes flutter open, enough to see the fish Avengers in their tank.

The Avengers.

Steve Rogers is an Avenger. So is Bucky, technically.

You’re making out with Bucky. One of his hands is on your boob.

This is Steve’s apartment.

You manage to sober you up enough, despite Bucky’s constant attacks of open mouth kisses and bites on your neck.

“I don’t think Steve would – if we–” You lift your head begrudgingly to look at him. “You know, on his armchair.”

“Right.” He didn’t seem convinced, but his hand moved up from your butt to your waist again.

Steve Rogers was probably miles away right now and still cockblocking you.

Even worse, his furniture was cockblocking you.

Stupid star-spangled IKEA shopper.

And his hot best friend. Who’s currently smiling at you in a such a way that makes you almost abandon all comradery towards Rogers and the sanctity of his place.

You debate getting up, but resign yourself to burying your nose in the crook of Bucky’s neck and just staying there, because honestly, when are you going to have the chance to do this again. Never, that’s when.

Also, he’s surprisingly comfortable for someone with a metal arm and such a jacked-up body.

“You’re sleepy.”

“No, I’m like, super awake.”

It’s a lie, because now that the sparks have flown and the rush of blood in your ears gave way to the quietness of the early morning, you feel yourself drifting, on and off, surprising yourself when you come to once and find that Bucky is still there, warm under you.

“Sleep, doll. I need it too.”

You shift, ready to let his rhythmic breathing lull you to sleep. The last 75 sleepless hours catch up with you.

“Bucky? If you want to break into someone’s house again sometime – I have a first aid kit too. Just sayin’.”

[biggest-stupidhead]

Hi! I love your Levi imagines, and I saw that your requests were open, so here goes: Can you write a Levi x female!reader story where his s/o is pregnant and goes into labor when Hange is off on a research expedition, so Levi has to deliver the baby with only his squad for assistance? Bonus points if someone on Levi Squad faints in the process!

Heyyyy anon, this idea is so precious and I will definitely do a lil imagine for this scenario! <3

Summary: You go into labor without your designated delivery nurse. 

Word Count: 1.9K

Warnings: childbirth, nothing too graphic. 

__

In the early months of your pregnancy, you and Levi had both been ecstatic. But once the last two or so months had creeped up on you, the two of you began to get anxious. Hange had originally agreed to deliver the baby, seeing that she was the only person that Levi trusted to go near you besides himself. You felt ready to pop as you sat out in the courtyard with Mikasa, she was watching you like a hawk, grey eyes alert and tracking every muscle twitch. It had been strange, as soon as you began to suspect that you were pregnant, Mikasa had began clinging to you. It was as if she sensed the change, eventually you gave up on trying to figure out how she had known, and chalked it up to her Ackerman DNA. 

Eren and Jean were running around, Connie desperately trying to keep up with them as they passed a deflated ball back and forth, obviously keeping it out of Connie’s grasp. You smiled fondly as Sasha leapt into the air and snatched the ancient ball from them, passing it to Connie, who ran in the opposite direction. Armin and Annie were laying on a blanket looking up at the sky, Annie’s hand was pointing at a cloud, you could see her lips moving, followed by Armin’s soft laugh. 

You hadn’t wanted kids. Not really, that hole had been filled by these fools, but once you all had overcome the issues in Marley, those feelings began to ebb away. Especially once you and Levi began seeing each other. He had been reluctant, but Hange had stayed consistent in pushing him to pursue you. Low and behold two years later, you were married with a bundle of joy on the way. You had felt nauseous all morning, crampy, and sore in your lower abdomen. It wasn’t until the afternoon, about two hours prior that you had felt the first contraction. They were closer now and you weren’t really able to hide them anymore. So Mikasa noticed when you flinched for the second time in twenty minutes. She turned and placed a firm hand to your shoulder. 

“What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?” She asked, those coal grey eyes scanning your face for an answer. 

“I...have been having contractions.” You admitted guiltily as you rubbed your swollen stomach to ease yourself. 

“Uh oh...” Mikasa’s expression dropped, skin paling as the realization struck her. Hange had left only days prior, for an important meeting alongside Erwin and the other high up military personnel. 

“It’s fine, I’m fine. It isn’t quite time yet, just maybe help me get back inside?” You were beginning to sweat as the contractions began to become more intense. She nodded and helped you to your feet, the others all noticed the movement and followed like little ducks. You only managed to stumble into the parlor and fall onto one of the sofas there, the teens all towering over you. 

“What do you need?” Annie was standing at your side, the back of her hand pressed to your forehead. 

“I’ll go get Levi!” Jean offered before taking off and up the stairs, sprinting up them two at a time. 

“I’ll go get snacks!” Sasha sprinted towards the kitchen, Connie chasing after her. Armin was standing frozen as he watched Mikasa and Annie both take your hands. Eren was just as bad as Armin, those jade green eyes wide and focused on the space between your legs. 

“Uhhhh (Y/n)....I think that-” Eren’s face was beet red as he stumbled over his words. 

“Your water broke!” Armin informed you as you tried to meet their eyes over your stomach. 

“No, I could have sworn that my contractions were-” 

“What in god’s name is-” Levi froze, Jean panting alongside him as they all stared at the fluid dripping down your legs, soiling the couch and your cotton dress. 

“(Y/n)...” Levi’s face was pale and his eyes were wide as he rushed to close the space between you. You eagerly gripped his hand as another contraction he let out a shaky breath along with you as the contraction ended. 

“What are we supposed to do?” Eren said numbly as he stared at Mikasa who was propping your up. 

“We...need to get her a better bed or, something.” Mikasa spoke slowly, Annie nodded in agreement, her icy eyes scanning the room. 

“Move those chairs, then go get a mattress from one of the rooms down the hall.” Annie ordered, Eren and Armin darted off to complete the mattress task, while Jean began shoving the chairs out of the way. Connie and Sasha returned, with rags and towels along with an apple shoved in Sasha’s mouth. In mere minutes the room had been transformed into a makeshift delivery room, basins of clean water and mountains of towels. Mikasa and Levi helped you down onto the stripped mattress, Mikasa settled behind you, allowing you to recline back into her. You were shocked by how calming it was to just feel her heartbeat. Levi started by your side, his hand gripping yours. That was until Annie cleared her throat and looked down at your knees. 

“Someone...needs to check...” Annie trailed off as everyone shared uneasy glances. Connie shook his head violently, Jean looked green along the gills, Sasha crunched on the apple. Armin swallowed loudly. 

“I can...coach someone but I don’t think that I’m comfortable actually...” He flushed as he spoke and you let out a low groan. 

“Look I don’t give a shit who does it, but someone needs to see how dilated I am.” Your breathing was deep and somewhat controlled as the room once more fell silent. 

“I’ll do it.” Levi said finally as he placed a kiss to your knuckles before shuffling to the end of the mattress. Armin joined Levi, but his eyes were glued to the ceiling. 

“O-Okay you need to take your fingers and line them up at the erm...you know.” Armin’s cheeks were so red. Annie huffed, unamused as she joined them at the foot of the mattress. 

“Sit down, you’re making me nervous.” You said breathily to Jean, Eren, and Connie who all quickly came to rest on the floor near your head. You grimaced at the feeling of Levi’s fingers against you. 

“Uh...what am I looking for?” Levi’s voice was unusually high as he clutched your calf nervously. 

“Four fingers!” You groaned, leaning back into Mikasa as you felt yet another contraction. 

“That’s two in five minutes, it’s nearly time.” Armin informed, eyes still on the stone ceiling. 

“Four? Then...it is time.” Levi said breathlessly as he lifted his head to meet your eyes. 

“Great okay, start your breathing like Hange taught you (Y/n).” Mikasa spoke surprisingly calmly as she rubbed your shoulders. You began to pant, shutting your eyes tightly as the lower half of your body felt like it was being torn in two. You let out another moan, you vaguely noticed that Connie and Sasha had both gotten up and were rummaging through the bookshelf. 

“-It says in this book that...the baby’s tail should fall off in no more than three days?” 

“Are baby’s born with tails?”

“No...at least my siblings weren’t..” 

You let out a bark of laughter at the pair as they debated the contents of the book. 

“Shut the fuck up you two and get those towels ready.” Eren ordered, his face pale and voice high with panic. 

“Yeah what he said.” Jean agreed, his hand covering his eyes as he held your free hand tightly. 

“Okay but this book says-” 

“For the love of god just-” Eren made it half way through his sentence before you let out a low groan as you pushed for the first time. Armin nodded in approval, Annie as holding your dress up as Levi narrowed his eyes in concentration. 

“That’s it, take your time.” Annie encouraged as she reached into her boot for her dagger. You felt your baby slide down, and into the birth canal. 

“I...can see the head!” Levi announced as he held his hands out for the baby as you prepared for another good push. 

“Good, only a few more (Y/n)!” Armin assured you as he blindly reached out and braced himself on Levi’s shoulder. You moaned, throwing your head back into Mikasa’s shoulder as Eren dabbed your neck with a damp towel. 

“So close, you can do it.” Mikasa encouraged as you let out a choked sob, your pelvis felt as if it was about to rip in half as you felt the head crowning. 

“Okay Levi, you need to guide the head out, twist so that the shoulders can come out.” Annie informed calmly as she watched Levi gently rotate the baby’s head, allowing the baby to slip free. He let out a shaky gasp as he held the newborn in his hands while Annie sliced the umbilical cord. Armin finally looked as Connie wrapped the baby in a fresh towel. 

“I’ll clean-” He pushed the towel aside and beamed at you and Levi. 

“-her. I’ll clean her up.” He said as he and Sasha rushed to the nearest basin to wash the baby. Mikasa rubbed your arms as Armin began guiding Levi on the steps to delivering the placenta. 

No more than five minutes later, you had your baby girl against your chest. Her head was amazingly full of black silky hair. Her eyes were shut, but you had a feeling that when they opened that they would be a charcoal grey. Levi shuffled up next to you, pressing a kiss you your temple, his lip trembling as he looked down at your daughter. 

“You did it.” You said breathlessly as you smiled up at Levi. 

“No...you did it.” He said as he gently placed his hand over your daughter’s back, which was rising and falling steadily. Mikasa shifted as she tried to worm away from you, Levi gladly taking her place. 

“What will you call her?” Eren asked as he wrapped an arm over Mikasa’s shoulders. You swallowed thickly and looked back up at Levi who was still busy staring at your baby. 

“Kuchel.” You said without hesitation, Levi seemed startled when he heard the name, and then his eyebrows furrowed as he fought to keep his face free of emotion. 

“Yeah, that’s-” His voice cracked and he buried his face in the crook of your neck. 

“-that’s perfect.” he finished his sentence and the kids all mumbled their agreements as they watched you push your dress aside to feed your baby, who was cooing and gripping at the seams of your dress. 

“Kuchel.” You hummed as Levi stroked her back, her eyes cracked open for the first time, and you choked back a sob at the sight. 

Her eyes were not grey, but a familiar (e/c), she had your eyes. 

“Oh-” Jean choked back his own sob, biting his knuckles as he turned on his heel and buried his own face in Sasha’s shoulder as he cried. 

“Jeanboy” Connie said teasingly, despite the thick emotion in his own voice. 

“Let’s get out of here everybody.” Annie advised as she watched Levi thread his finger through his daughter’s as she began to suckle on your breast. 

“Congratulations.” they all murmured as they took their leave. You relaxed back into Levi, finally able to be alone for the first time with your little family. 

__

Lol I loved this, I used to want to be a labor and delivery nurse. But that was before I realized that Chem is NOT my friend. Anyway, sorry I couldn’t squeeze in someone fainting, but if you care I think that Jean would be most likely to. Only because he’s an only child and doesn’t know what child birth is like. 

But seeing as how much they have been through in the canon universe I doubt that childbirth would be the most disturbing sight lol. Hope that you enjoy this! Requests are still open so send me stuff :) 

[woos-lil-oreo]

12:36 AM

Warnings: hard dom Jongho, DEGRADATION, voyeurism, pet names, asphyxiation play, implied overstimulation... I think that's it xD let me know if I miss anything

Taglist: @ceopjy @shusan @woowommy @yunhofingers @dazzling-lightzzz @gay-for-gaon @yungisstar1117 @yunsangoveryonder @damissub @wishuponthestars @wooyoungsbae @qiankunlove-blog @rdiamond2727 @ammcg0119 @yelloimmitch

Author's Note: Hi people, I know... I know, I've been away for a minute. And I'm sorry xD check my pin for what happened. And I want to thank you guys for 600 followers!!!

Well, technically *goes to check the follower count* 606 followers! Thank you for putting up with me and my shit posting schedule lol

I really appreciate it and I hope to make my way completely back here and give you guys such ✨ wonderful content ✨

Also, this is a request from @jonghos-simp the ask is here

I hope you like it and spam up Jongho's other fics and drabbles on my masterlist, I take a lot of pride in those xD

~

Your squirm across the table as Jongho makes quick work with his fingers in your core. You can hear the squishing sound of your juices coating his slender fingers. You try to shimmy away from the sensations, but you don’t move quite fast enough as Jongho grabs you by the throat, ceasing your movements.

Your eyes blink open immediately, and your hands fly to his forearm, almost as if you’re supposed to be pushing him away. You feel him slightly tighten his grip, gradually cutting off your circulation, making you feel light and floaty.

“Isn’t this what you wanted? Mmmh, my dumb little whore… a complete mess in front of my hyungs.” Jongho degrades you to himself in a stern tone of voice. You can’t respond as your breath is caught in your throat from the tingles going through your body.

His hand is going so fast, and you feel your orgasm coming. Your chest rises and falls as your breath picks up in short pants, your toes are curled, and your hole grabs his fingers in a vice grip.

Jongho can barely move, but he takes the opportunity to curl his fingers on that warm, plush spot. Your body twitches as you feel your climax preparing to crash into you like a tidal wave. You gasp and whimper as the feelings intensify. Sensing your orgasm, Jongho leans down to your ear.

“Hold it in. Don’t you dare cum without my permission.” He punctuates the sentence by shoving his digits knuckle-deep inside you. You let out a long and dragged-out moan that sounded borderline pornographic.

“Please, sir. Let me cum. I’ve been so good for you. I even counted how many orgasms I almost had–” You beg until you realized you fucked up when Jongho lifted his brow at you.

“Did I tell you to do that?”

“Uhm… no sir, I’m sor–”

“Just as I was about to show them the best part.” He says as if he was saddened by the situation you managed to stir up.

“Since you wanted to be such a nasty little fuck and disobey me, grinding on my lap when I specifically told you that I would tend to you when we got home and do things I didn’t tell you to… I’m not going to let you cum.” Jongho declares and chuckles at the fear in your eye as he lets go of your neck.

Your first instinct is to take in long deep breaths, but not out of relief. “You are going to beg to them,” he nods his head over to the other members, “to beg them to let you cum. The collective decision has to be yes. Everyone has to vote yes.”

You sit up with flushed cheeks and a developing handprint around your neck and look over to the rest of the guys.

Hongjoong and Yunho are trying their best to hide their arousal (and red ears) with sheer chastity that you can clearly see through. Seonghwa is watching with an analytic spark in his eye as if he’s trying to learn your triggers. Yeosang and Mingi have their arms and legs crossed to seen unfazed, but the hard-on they’re sporting is giving it away. San and Wooyoung are fully engaged in what the hell is happening on their dining room table.

“So, are you just gonna sit there, in a puddle of the mess you made, or are you going to get on your knees and beg?”

You look back at Jongho, and your cheeks begin to get warm as if this whole circumstance is normal and he gave you a bouquet of roses. You look down and nod as you go to hop from the table. You hear your juices squelch as you peel away from the table and make your way to the living room carpet.

~

[disasterofastory]

Three times when you fall asleep on Ivar (Ivar x Reader)

Three times when you fall asleep on Ivar Ivar x Reader Warnings: none

I.

Your life is busy and tiresome between training and your energetic brothers. The little pests can’t sit on their arses for one minute. If they are not on your heels, then they are somewhere else getting in trouble. You love them to death, but your days would be so much calmer without them.

You sit next to Ivar while his brothers train. They dance around each other, laughing and chatting about a slave girl.

“Who are they talking about?” You ask the youngest son of Ragnar.

“Margarethe,” he hisses with clenched jaw. His blue eyes are burning holes in his brothers.

“Why are you angry?” You ask him. “Are you interested in the slave too?”

“No, she is just a slave,” he shrugs.

“Then what is your problem?” You ask stubbornly.

You know the brothers since childhood. You spent most of your time with Ivar when his eyes were deep blue, and everybody was afraid to play with him because of his bones. He was never interested in the other sex. At least not until now.

“Why do you care?!” He snaps at you.

You stay silent. You are too tired for his moods.

Your eyelids start to get heavier and heavier till you can’t open them anymore and blackout. You lean on Ivar’s shoulders, your folded arms against your chest and your legs in a small spread. He hears your breathing, and your hair tickles his neck. He is annoyed. He doesn’t like your weight against his, and he doesn’t know what to do. Should he move? Or wake you up?

He moves.

He crawls out under your slumber form, and you fall to the ground where Ivar was a few seconds ago. He doesn’t even look back at you when you yell at him.

“You are a dick, Boneless.”

II.

The second time you dare to fall asleep on Ivar is during a sacrifice. The sun is long gone from the sky, the torches are on fire, and Aslaug speaks about the Gods and the next raid against the Christians. Your face is painted with black coal, and your hair is braided for battle, although you know you won’t fight tonight. You sit next to Ivar on a barrel. You enjoy his face while he looks at the sacrifice. He is in awe.

The voices start to fade away, and your body moves to Ivar again. For a few minutes, he doesn’t even notice, and when he does, he does nothing about it. He has a better plan. He waits for almost ten minutes for the bowl with the blood in it. He paints his face with it, then reaches above you and pours the whole liquid onto your hair. You gasp at the warm feeling which goes down on your face and neck.

“Ivar!” You shout at him, straightening out.

Of course, blood is an important part of your customs, but you don’t want to bathe in it if it’s not on the battlefield.

“What?” He asks innocently, but his sly smirk betrays him. “I think the red looks good on you.”

“Sometimes I don’t even know why I’m friends with you,” you murmur, offended. You stand up and don’t wait for his answer. You just want to go home, wash down the blood and go to sleep.

He looks after you, and his smile slowly fades away.

III.

After the first two times, you are careful around Ivar. In reality, you don’t even have time for him. You train and help with the chores around the house when you don’t look after your siblings.

One day you busy yourself in the garden when you look up and find Ivar behind the fence.

“What?” You ask him, surprised. You didn’t talk with him for a few days.

“Are you still angry with me?” He asks you impatiently. He doesn’t like it when you don’t seek him out, and he hates it when he has to apologize to you.

“No, Ivar,” you answer, and you are mean it. You are used to his mean behavior. “I’m just busy.”

“Busy enough not to come to the feast?” He asks. He sent Hvitserk to ask you about your plans tonight, and when his brother came home with the news, Ivar knew he has to come to get you himself.

“Yes,” you answer shortly. “I already told Hvitserk.”

“But you have to come!” He demands. “I’m your prince!”

“Ivar, just stop!” You tell him. “I won’t go, deal with it.”

“Tell me, why!”

“Because my parents want to look for a husband for me!" You burst out. “And I’m tired! And I want to sleep! And I can’t do that because I always have things to do, and if I can lay down, I can hear my parent working on to have more kids and my brothers noisy even when they are asleep!”

Ivar's eyes widen while he listens. He didn’t even know about your problems, but it’s not a surprise after all. Whenever you two are together, you are the one who listens to his complaints about his brothers, the slave girl, and his useless legs.

“Then you have to come!” He decides.

“What? Did you hear me?!” You ask him angrily.

“You need a night to relax, and I make sure after the feast you can sleep calmly.”

He will be damned if he let another man have you.

Before sundown, you dress up and braid your hair. You wear a burgundy dress with silver decors and a warm pelt on your shoulders. You still don’t want to go, but you know Ivar will be furious if you don’t show up.

When you arrive, the hall is already full. It seems everybody has a great time. Yeah, you wish you could go home and relax.

You see the brothers at the main table with Aslaug and an Earl from the neighborhood. Your eyes lock with Ivar’s, and he beckons you to come, sit next to him. You greet the others before you sit down next to the dark-haired Viking and look at him suspiciously when he starts to pile up foods on your plate.

“What?” He asks. “You worked all day, I’m sure you are starving.”

“Thanks,” you tell him cautiously. You know Ivar rarely shows his affection or care to others, so you have to be careful about him if you don’t want to anger him.

You start to eat, and he is right. You are starving. The food you thought is too much is gone before you know it.

“Ivar?” You ask him more warily when he puts his arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer to him.

He looks at you almost pleadingly. It’s hard for him to show his feelings and even harder for him to speak about them. His blue eyes search yours to find his answer.

“I can’t let you marry someone else,” he tells you quietly so the others can’t hear him.

“Since when?”

“Does it matter?” He asks you, and you shake your head no.

For a few minutes, you are still a little bit frozen. You never imagined a future with Ivar, but you couldn’t imagine a future with someone else.

When he notices you start to doze off, he pushes you softly to his room.

“Go, change your clothes. I ordered the thralls to bring you some clothes for the night.”

“Ivar, if it’s a prank…” you warn him.

“It’s not, I promise. It’s warm and comfortable.”

You smirk, and he immediately looks you over suspiciously while you lean closer to him to whisper into his ear.

“Your one of your tunics would be enough.”

When you lean back, you see his face is red, and his lips are slightly open.

You turn around and go to Ivar’s room to change and make yourself comfortable on his bed. The wood burns and crackles on the fireplace and the furs make you warm as you lay down waiting for the Viking.

You hear him crawling to the door and slowly opens it to let himself enter.

“Is it comfortable?” He asks you.

“Yes,” you answer.

He climbs up to the bed and changes his clothes as fast as he can. You saw his legs countless times, but he still tries to hide them. You don't like it, but you understand him, and this talk can wait.

He lays down next to you, but he is rigid.

“You can get comfortable… you know?” You tell him patiently. You would be lying if you would say you don’t enjoy his haunted figure.

“Of course, I know,” he snaps at you. “This is my bed.”

“Okay… Mighty Bed Owner,” you laugh at your joke.

He doesn’t answer, and you start to doze off again. You feel warm and comfortable and tired. So tired.

Ivar waits almost half an hour to make sure you are asleep before he moves closer to you. He doesn’t even have to do much, you unconsciously lean to him till you almost on top of him. He feels your breath on his chest where the tunic doesn’t cover his skin, and your arm weighs on his stomach.

How could he let any man feel this?

[oilivia]

“Be a good girl and spread your legs” - w/ Kuroo, Atsumu & Suga

request:  Ummmm, idk if you're still taking requests, but could I get prompt 20. With Atsumu, Kuroo, and Suga? Pls and thank chu!

a/n: these were super fun to write and i somehow ended up with three very different things, but i hope you’ll enjoy! please be mindful of the tws, i’m posting them separately for each drabble. no beta! smut under the cut.

pairings: Kuroo w/ virgin reader & slight corruption; Suga w/ daddy kink & dumbification; Atsumu w/ cowgirl, wholesome

wording: 2.1k

if you want to request drabbles, i have a list of prompts here, but please read my rules first here.

Kuroo

tw: implied virginity, fingering, oral (f receving), slight corruption

“Tetsu-” you moan softly, your hands sinking in his hair, his lips sucking at the delicate skin of your neck. That will leave a mark, but you don’t care. The fact that you are in his dorm room and his roommate could open the door any minute slips from your mind as you feel his hands knead your clothed breasts. All that matters is how good it all feels, how it leaves you wanting more, how his calloused fingers know just where to touch you.

“Be a good girl and spread your legs,” he asks, voice laced with honey. If it was up to him, he’d rip the clothes off of you, free your pretty tits so he could sink his teeth into your perky nipples. But no, he has to take it slow. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you from the start, he doesn’t want you running away from him. You’re so sweet and innocent and your body isn’t used to being touched by a man. You writhe under his fingers, goosebumps littering your skin. He won’t lie, he loves it. Even though his cock twitches painfully in his pants from the lack of friction. He’ll just build you up, steadily and patiently, until you’re on your knees begging for him to fuck you.

Kuroo can see just how shy you are, how you hesitate for a second at his command, your eyes darting to his as if you want to make sure you understood correctly. He smiles sweetly, pressing his hands on the inside of your thighs and pushes them apart slowly. He watches you intently, grinning internally when he sees how you cover your mouth with your hand, averting your eyes as if to hide from his gaze. It’s so cute how embarrassed you are.

Your chest heaves, your breathing shallow. Your whole body feels as if you have a fever - your skin’s burning up, a dull ache in your abdomen. He kneels in front of you and when you feel his finger lightly trace your clothed slit a loud whine escapes you.

He would tease you, tell you that he knows how desperate you are for his cock by the way the wet spot on your white panties grows with his every touch. But he can’t do it yet. He’ll keep the teasing remarks to himself for now, content to watch the string of slick still connecting your folds to your panties when he tugs them down. Your body isn’t as innocent as you are.

“Can I?” he asks, a playful smile on his lips when he sees you nod sheepishly.

Kuroo can’t help but grin when he sees how tight you are, how he’s barely able to push his finger past your entrance. Your moans get louder when you feel his tongue press on your clit, swiping the sensitive nub as his digit thrusts in and out of you incessantly. Will you really cum just from this?

Your walls clench, your body twisting as the pressure in your abdomen snaps, waves of pleasure rippling through you. Your juices spill on his hand as he keeps fucking into you, savoring the lewd expressions on your face as you come undone for him. You’re so beautiful, exquisitely so.

And if that’s how you react to just one finger and a few strokes of his tongue, he can’t wait to see how pretty you’ll look creaming on his cock, the fucked out expressions you’ll be making. Sometimes being patient pays off and Kuroo is sure this is definitely one of those times.

Suga

tw: hard dom Suga, daddy kink, dumbification, infantilization, praise, edging, overstim, dacryphilia, sex toys, mentions of alcohol  

When you met Suga you thought he was just another pretty boy, nothing too special. The kind you take home to your parents or marry after you’re done experimenting.

“Be a good girl and spread your legs,” he commands, sharp eyes fixed on your body.

Turns out, his favorite pastime is watching you squirm as he fucks your brains out. All it took was stumbling into his bed one night after work, both of you drunk and lonely. And now you spent most evenings on your knees servicing his cock and waiting for him to take pity on you and stretch your walls.

You comply, opening your thighs and giving Suga a perfect view of your pretty cunt, soaked and throbbing. A small vibrator buzzes happily inside, pulling soft whimpers from your throat. He pushed it inside you on the lowest setting more than an hour ago - punishment for being late. The setting that isn’t high enough to get you off, but it’s high enough to make a mess out of your hole, to have you begging for him to let you cum.

“You look so good like this, you know? Like a dumb little baby, look how your cunny gushes.” He kneels between your legs, scooping the liquid between your folds with a finger “You like having that vibe inside you, hmm? Does it feel good?” He questions, his tone belittling. But you don’t care. All you care about is how good that tiny touch felt. You want to ask for more, but you know how much Suga hates it when you speak out of turn, so you settle on answering his question.

“I-It feels good, daddy,” your voice feels so small and broken as soft moans escape between each of your words. He smiles and your heart swells. You did good, he likes your answer. He watches you proudly. When you two met you were such a little brat. He worked so hard to make you behave, to make you into the dumb little fuckdoll that you are now. He loves you so much.

“That’s my baby. Now, tell me, will you be late again?” His palm is raised over your aching clit, ready to slap the bundle of nerves if you say the wrong thing.

“N-No, daddy,” you try. He smiles again. You sigh with relief, your chest rising and falling with your every breath, your nipples perked from the rush of emotions.

“Good girl,” he coos. His fingers find your clit, rubbing and pinching. “Is this what you want? You want me to let you cum?”

You nod desperately, cries and pleads erupting from your throat as  you feel your climax within your reach. Just a little bit more and you’ll cum. You let out a whine when he stops and pulls the vibe out of you - you were so close.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Suga tugs down his boxers, his cock springing, large and throbbing. You lick your lips in anticipation. He gets between your thighs once more, aligning his tip with your hole. He pushes it in, torturously slow. Your legs are on his shoulders, your hands pinned above your head by his strong grip. He chuckles when he sees the way you squirm, how hard you’re trying to get more of his cock inside your plush walls. “You’re such a dumb little baby, so needy for me. You can’t cum without daddy’s help. What would you do without me, hmm?”

“I-I need m-more, daddy, please,” you beg, tears welling up in your eyes. Your insides felt like they were on fire. And you were so close to the sweet release of your orgasm. If only daddy took pity on his little baby and helped her cum.

“If you’re asking so nicely.” Suga slams his hips into yours, shoving the rest of his cock against your cervix all at once. He thinks you look so cute with your salty tears streaming down your face. You don’t last long, not with the pace at which he’s rutting into you. Your mind goes blank, tongue lolling out of your open mouth, your body convulsing under Suga’s. And he keeps thrusting into you, not even letting you catch your breath. You climax again, harder than the first time, your head dizzy, body going limp. Your walls are clamming on his cock, squeezing it and milking him for every last drop of his cum.

“My pretty baby, so good for me,” he whispers as he gives you a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Let me clean you up and I’ll cuddle you.” You don’t even hear his last words as you succumb to sleep, your exhaustion overtaking you.

Atsumu

tw: cowgirl, nipple play, kinda wholesome, Atsumu says baby twice, somehow this one ended up super sweet

Were you always such a tease? Atsumu asks himself as he stares at the way your tits bounce, threatening to spill from your low-cut dress. You’re skipping towards him, huge smile on your face and arms open to engulf him in a hug. You haven’t seen each other in a while, not since you moved to a different city for your job. But none of that matters now - you’re back.

Just like you’re back on his lap fifteen minutes later. Your lips are wrapped around his, your hands playing with the hem of his pants. You taste just as good as he remembers. God, how he missed you. He sucks on your tongue, his fingers pinching your nipples. He smirks when he realizes you’re not wearing a bra. He always hated how those pesky things got in the way of his touches. You bite his bottom lip when he pulls away from the kiss and you smile, a devilish glint dancing in your eyes.

“Did I give you permission to stop?” You tease and he laughs. You’re even feistier than he remembers.

“Fuck, baby, I missed you so much,” his fingers dig into your back as he breathes deeply, taking in your intoxicating scent. “Be a good girl and spread your legs.”

He thinks your cocky smirk is adorable. “When was I ever a good girl, ‘Tsumu?” Still, you oblige, not because he asked you to, but because you want it just as much as he does. You move to straddle his lap, your hand between your bodies, stroking his cock through his pants. His mouth crashes with yours again in a sloppy kiss, tongues twisting as you swallow each other’s moans.

“You want me?” you question, your clouded eyes lying on his, mouth slightly open as you pant trying to catch your breath. His cock twitches at the hypnotizing sight - you could’ve asked him for anything right now and he would oblige.

“What do you think?”

“I think you can’t wait to bury your cock in my cunt,” a smirk plastered on your face as you reach for his boxers, rubbing your thumb in circles over his leaking tip. He hisses at the unexpected touch.

“You know I do.” Lifting yourself on your tiptoes, you pull your panties aside with a grin, placing Atsumu’s tip at your drenched entrance. You gasp as you slowly sink on his cock, relishing the way his girth spreads your ravenous cunt, inch by agonizing inch. You’re not prepped and even though you’re wet, your tight walls burn as his tip pushes inside you. But you couldn’t wait, not with his tantalizing cock finally within your grasp.

The way you’re riding him, arms wrapped around his shoulders, naked tits pressed against his taut chest is driving him crazy with lust. Why did he ever let you go? Your moans sound so sweet and he whispers your name in your ear, over and over, like a prayer. He licks at the shell of your ear and your cries get louder. You gyrate your hips, his palms resting on your waist as he meets your thrusts halfway.

“Your cock feels so good, ‘Tsumu,” you mewl as you pick up the pace, chasing your high with each slam of your hips.

“And you’re so fucking tight. Fuck, baby, look at me. I want to see your face when you cum,” your cunt is clenching snugly around his cock at Atsumu’s words. You indulge him. He watches you bend and undulate as you grind against him faster and faster. He feels his own climax build up and just as your body thrashes in his arms with your orgasm, he fills you up with his cum, his tip resting against your cervix.

“Let’s stay like this for a bit,” Atsumu mutters and you nuzzle your head in the crook of his neck, humming in agreement.

© 2021 all content belongs to @cherrysdollhouse​, please do not modify or repost without permission

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Prompt idea: Geralt gets a contract for a monster that has been sighted nearby. When he tracks it down, he is surprised to find mothman!Jaskier who (much like actual mothman) has an ass that won’t quit.

?

I just want you to know that Mothskier now lives in my head rent free 24/7. I love him. I would die for him. This is my new favorite emotional support au.

2k-ish words - please feel free to shove comments through the bars of my enclosure, I would really like that

art by the ever-wonderful @mawbwehownets, whose drawing of Mothskier made me legit cry.

tw: mild injury, brief blood mention, strangers to lovers

---

“So what you’re saying,” Geralt raises an eyebrow slowly, curious, “Is that you need me to catch a monster that’s half man and half moth?”

“Yup.”

“Alright,” Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. The frustrated Witcher takes a slow breath to calm and center himself, before he ends up botching the entire contract-writing process. Humans tend to grow attached to the strangest monsters sometimes, and apparently this mysterious local being was no different. “Let me get this totally straight, so there are no mistakes or misunderstandings. You want me to capture this man-moth and get it out of your woods, but you don’t want me to kill it?”

“He’s called the Mothman, and he’s pretty damn stubborn about sticking around,” the aging farmer corrects Geralt with a little frown. Then his expression shifts and he smiles in a way that seems almost apologetic. “We were hoping you could find a way to relocate him without hurting or killing him, Master Witcher.”

“That’s completely possible, if he isn’t attached to this specific patch trees by any magical or biological means. You said his natural habitat is just… the forest?”

“As long as there's an abundance of pine around he seems pretty happy. Before he came to live with us, Mothman lived in a heavily forested area up the coast; or at least that’s what the historical records and local mythology seem to indicate.”

“That’s actually pretty helpful information to have on hand, I’m impressed,” Geralt nods. “Alright, Mr. Stevens. I promise to relocate the poor thing without killing or maiming him, and I’ll be sure to take him somewhere far enough away that your crops won’t be in danger. Thanks for calling me first instead of just going straight to an extermination service.”

“Honestly, Master Witcher,” the farmer sighs and readjusts his dirty baseball hat, “If it weren’t for the mischief he’s been getting into lately, we would have let him stick around until spring. I hate to admit it to a man as strong and stern-faced as yourself, but the poor creature is almost… adorable at times.”

“Well that’s a first,” Geralt chuckles, honestly amused by the situation he’s found himself in. “A monster being referred to as ‘adorable’ rather than ‘terrifying’. I’ve never heard such a thing in my many years of life.”

“Then you’d better prepare yourself, Sir Geralt. He’s got a pair of big blue puppy-dog eyes that’ll knock you on your ass if you aren’t careful. And that’s coming from a man who raised three daughters with dimples.”

“Hmm. Fuck.”

---

Geralt knows enough about moths to come up with a plan he thinks will work.

Before he heads into the woods to find and capture the poor wandering creature, the Witcher takes a detour through the lighting section of the nearest Lowe’s.

---

Unfortunately for Geralt, the farmer was right about the power of Mothman’s puppy dog eyes, which are big and blue and begin to water as soon as the Witcher’s net knocks him to the ground. The creature lies in a whimpering tangle of limbs beneath the heavy, magically enhanced restraints. Geralt takes an opportunity to look at what the locals called "a cryptid".

Mothman has a long, lithe body that's covered in a light layer of grey-brown fur, but his hair resembles that of a human’s, falling over those enormous blue eyes in a lovely chestnut fringe. When Mothman sees the swords on Geralt’s back he cries out in panicked recognition and tries to pull his arms up far enough to shield his face. The lamp Geralt used to lure him into the clearing is still bathing him in a pool of yellow light; it’s almost pretty for a monster, Geralt notes.

As the Witcher takes a step forward, the cryptid squeaks and buries his face against his own shoulder. His entire frame is trembling.

“Hey there, shhhhh,” the Witcher murmurs quietly. He drops into a squat and holds both hands up to show Mothman that they’re weapon free. Tears are now falling freely down the creature’s surprisingly human face; whoever or whatever this is, they are likely some kind of Fae. “I’m not here to hurt you, I just want to get you back through the veil.”

“Liar,” Mothman huffs. His voice has a surprisingly musical quality to it and Geralt is now sure of his Fae parentage (or grand-parentage).

“I promise I’m not lying,” Geralt reassures him, slowly crawling forward. When he reaches for the nearest corner of the net, he feels all of Mothman’s muscles go tense. “I’m going to lift this up and I am going to restrain you, but I swear that I’m not going to kill you. I wish to cause as little distress as possible. Is that alright, Mothman?”

The creature hisses and yanks his foot back away from where Geralt’s hand had nearly touched it. “Jaskier.”

“Hmm?” Geralt glances up, raising an eyebrow.

“My name is Jaskier,” the Fae repeats, glaring up from between the sections of woven rope that make up the heavy net. “Not Mothman.”

“My apologies, Jaskier,” Geralt bows his head. He words his introduction carefully, in case this thing can manipulate his name like others of his kind: “You may refer to me as Geralt.”

“That’s your real name,” Jaskier states. The Witcher’s head snaps up.

“How did you know?”

“Hmm,” Jaskier sticks his tongue out as he mimics the sound Geralt made earlier. “Not telli-AH! Stop! Oh go- gods, stop! Please!”

Geralt drops the short section of rope he’s trying untangle from around Jaskier’s ankle and snaps his eyes upwards, already searching for damage. “What’s wrong!?”

“My wing!” Jaskier bawls. His scent spikes out through the clearing, sharp with panic and pain. The creature’s chest begins to shake more violently than before, his shoulders shuddering with the rising force of his sobs, “It’s t-t-torn! Oh gods, my wing! Sir Witcher, p-please!”

Geralt freezes, his gaze settling on the torn section of Jaskier’s large, furry wing. It’s a nasty wound near one of the joints, a faint trickle of barely-luminescent blood has already dried around the edges. Jaskier tries to flutter it a little and screams in agony when the muscles shift too suddenly, shrilly enough that Geralt needs to cover his hypersensitive ears. The Witcher's heart crashes down into his boots; based on the way the shivering Fae has gone pale and silent, the pain is too much for him to process. He’s gone into shock.

A torn wing is exactly the kind of thing Geralt had promised the farmer (and the collective of townspeople he represented) wouldn’t happen to the peaceful moth creature if they hired a Witcher instead of an exterminator. He sighs and gives the strange being another once-over. “Everything's alright, Jaskier. You’re going to be alright. I’m so, so sorry that you've been wounded. We’ll get you out of this net and get you something for the pain, but it’s going to hurt a little to untangle you. Stay still, don’t struggle, and it’ll be over soon.”

“J-Just kill me,” Jaskier pants. He’s continuing to hyperventilate and Geralt needs him to calm down before he passes out. The Fae reaches a hand for the dagger at Geralt's waist and the Witcher twists out of reach with a frown. Jaskier sobs again, fingers still seeking, “I might n-n-never fly a-again so just k-kill me!”

“Breathe with me, Jaskier,” the Witcher instructs, forgoing patience and cutting through the net with that same dagger. He scoops Jaskier up into his arms, ignoring the keening sound at the back of Jaskier’s throat when his wing is jostled, and rushes the Fae to his truck, tucking him into the passenger’s seat and wrapping him in a large, fluffy blanket. “I’m taking you to my friend. She’s an expert at healing magical creatures and I'm certain that she'll get your wing fixed in no time.”

Jaskier doesn’t give an answer. When Geralt looks up into the creature’s face again, the injured Fae has already passed out.

---

Jaskier moves with all the grace of a newborn foal as he explores the room Geralt has provided for him. His wing has been inspected, treated, and bandaged by a rather scary sorceress named Yennefer, who glared at the Witcher the entire time she was caring for him. She had also taken one of Geralt’s old t-shirts and cut an enormous hole in the back for Jaskier’s wings to fit through. The shirt’s bottom hem falls to the middle of his thighs and the thick black material is softer than anything he’d ever felt before.

He hears a knock on the door and calls out, “It’s open!”

Geralt enters slowly, bearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a mug of tea. “I brought you some last minute supplies and - uh… I brought you some tea. Yen always likes some before she goes to sleep and I figured since this was a new place and new places can be scary that I should-”

“Thank you,” Jaskier interrupts, smiling shyly. His antennae twitch happily as he takes the offerings from Geralt's hands and the Witcher watches them with wide eyes. Jaskier carefully sets the pajamas and the tea on the nightstand before turning back to look at Geralt. “I will… see you tomorrow?”

Geralt gives one sharp nod. “Hmm.”

“Goodnight,” Jaskier sing-songs, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as Geralt exits.

From the other side of the closed door, Jaskier’s superior hearing picks up the Witcher’s final whisper: “Goodnight, Jaskier. I will always be sorry for causing you pain.”

The next morning he meets Geralt at the breakfast table, refreshed and ready to learn about the human world. He’s summoned a glamour in order to hide his more Moth-like traits, the only things that remain of his true nature are his wings and antennae; his fur is gone and he’s dressed in a pair of sweatpants and that same old shirt. The Witcher offers him a bowl of fruit and mug of something sweet-smelling. Jaskier glares into the mug with a slight pout to his lips before finally asking, “What is this?”

“Hot chocolate.”

Jaskier takes a sip and his antennae flutter, twitching happily as he swallows the best drink he’s ever had in his long life. He eats a strawberry from the bowl and slowly works his way through the hot chocolate, eyeing Geralt warily as the Witcher moves through the familiar kitchen to make his own breakfast.

“Where is Yennefer?”

“She went home,” Geralt shrugs.

“She isn’t your mate?”

“N-No,” Geralt sputters, turning to stare at the nervous young Fae. “Why would you think that?”

“You smell like each other.”

“We spend a lot of time together,” Geralt shrugs again. “Good friends, that’s all.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier mimics his host for a second time. Rather effectively by the annoyed twitch at the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “Just wondering.”

“Anything else you’re curious about?”

“Why don’t you have more lights?”

“Huh?”

“Lights,” Jaskier gestures around the minimalistic layout of Geralt’s open-concept kitchen/living room and its distinctive lack of lamps. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans forward against the dark marble countertop. The pout has gone from 'slight' to 'full-bore' and Geralt is clinging desperately to his braincell with how cute it looks. “It’s no fun.”

“You really like lamps, don’t you?” the Witcher replies, mouth dry. Jaskier huffs and takes another sip of his hot chocolate, antennae flickering back and forth in irritation. Geralt bites his lip to hide a smile; it’s too fucking cute, which is an odd thought for a Witcher to have.

“So what if I do enjoy a nice lamp or five in my living space?” Jaskier argues. "I'm a Moth of taste."

“No matter,” Geralt laughs quietly. “Finish your drink before it gets cold.”

---

Jaskier stays with Geralt for a few weeks while his wing heals, and for a creature whose sole interest seems to be fancy light fixtures, the Fae becomes a source of light in Geralt's own world. They go to a nonhuman friendly second-hand store to find Jaskier some more clothes and Geralt discovers the cryptid's love for oddly patterned shirts in bright colors. Jaskier chooses several to fill out his closet, as well as a sweater two-sizes too large in deep black (Geralt tries his best not to attach any meaning to this choice), a few pairs of pants, and a jean jacket that he declares, "Can be altered."

They watch movies together and make food together - Jaskier is always incredibly impressed by the way the automatic coffee maker works, and how easily Geralt can control the flames of the stove. Jaskier also follows the Witcher along on less dangerous hunts and helps bandage him up after worse ones, always there with a smile and a little kiss over the cleaned-up wound.

“It really is magic,” Jaskier always insists, lips pink and shining from licking them as he concentrates. "It makes you heal faster."

Geralt realizes one night - two weeks into Jaskier’s stay, as he leans against the doorframe and watches the strange creature’s even breathing - that he has gone and done the stupidest thing a Witcher can do: fall in love with a pretty, temperamental young Fae. Head over fuckin’ heels, actually.

So he makes a decision.

---

The next evening, after the dinner dishes have been cleaned and put away, Geralt herds Jaskier down the hall to the guest room. Those entrancing blue eyes blink up at him in obvious confusion. “Bedtime already?”

“No, not quite. I just- I made you… uh…”

“Do you have a surprise for me?” Jaskier asks, used to the Witcher's issues with verbalizing.

Geralt nods, relieved and thankful for the Fae’s steadfast understanding. “Do you want to cover your eyes or should I just open the door and show you?”

“I’ll close my eyes,” Jaskier smiles, covering his eyes with both hands. Geralt finds it adorable, as Jaskier always is, and allows himself a matching grin as he swings the door open. The ceiling light is off but Geralt has built a blanket fort at the center of the room and surrounded it with fairy lights of all colors and sizes. Inside the blanket fort is a mass of blankets and pillows; Jaskier has the odd habit of building nests - Geralt jokingly calls them cocoons - and sleeping in those on the floor instead of on the very comfortable mattress the Witcher has provided.

“Open them,” Geralt urges.

Jaskier pulls his hands away and Geralt watches as his pupils go huge and wide. Jaskier's face breaks out in the sunniest, most blindingly happy smile Geralt has ever seen. He turns and throws his arms around the Witcher, his wings fluttering behind him and his antennae twitching and flicking above his head. He tries desperately to speak but only manages a half-snuffled little “I’m-” before bursting into tears of joy.

Geralt just holds him, letting his arms fold carefully around Jaskier’s waist, just beneath his wings.

"I just wanted you to know that, if you wanted to stay, there would be room for you. Your room, if you want it."

"I do," Jaskier smiles, burying his face in the Witcher's neck. "I'd love to stay. I'd love nothing more than to spend my days going on adventures with you."

"Well then," Geralt gathers all of his courage and presses a soft kiss to the crown of Jaskier's head. He's met with happy spasms from the antennae so he does it again. And again. Moving from the top of the Fae's head to his cheeks and then his mouth - pretty and pink and pouting and so worth the trouble. "I suppose we can get started on our next adventure tomorrow."