#Roughing the Kicker

[bookstattoosandtea]

Blog Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway: Roughing the Kicker by Rheland Richmond & Emerson Beckett

Blog Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway: Roughing the KickerBy Rheland Richmond & Emerson Beckett The Package Deal Series, Book 6 Do you believe in fate? Yeah, me neither until the sexy Navy SEAL I hooked up with three years ago suddenly reappears back in my life in the form of one of my best friends’ older brother. And now, they want me to share a room with him in the Keys.  “Can you share a room with…

[regular-lord-reckoner]

i’m home !!

procedure went real well, everything was really smooth and almost as soon as they said, “you can count backwards if you want,” i don’t think i even said ten before i was suddenly in recovery and sipping some ginger ale.

honestly the worst part was the iv because they had to do it on the side of my wrist because apparently my veins are crooked ?? i just hate ivs anyway so that’s no surprise but other than that no complaints.

everyone was real nice and made sure i was well taken care of (my nurse even had me pee one more time before so she wouldn’t have to do a catheter which with my history…..thank you)

but yeah, i’ll have a follow up in about a month just to make sure everything’s good and the iud is doing its thing !!

i do have some cramping and bleeding but that’s normal, although a little funny because i literally just stopped my period yesterday but…oh well !! hopefully in a few months i won’t have hardly any so this we can handle and i hace some medicine (and my ~medicine) that’ll help so i’m all set.

mom had to go run some errands so my little recovery buddy is keeping me company. also, a moment of recognition for my new favorite shirt (thank you as always, Boss Dog Art; i’ve already got my eye on another one that says, “i think therefore i am against transphobia around the world” or something like that and it’s got a cool skeleton on it; this is my third shirt from them and they’re really comfy and good quality so not sponsored but check them out, they seem cool):

[aberfaeth]

THANKS HUMMEL

[moongothic]

It really is sad to look at OP now and see how rough the artwork has gotten-- and I'm not talking about 1098 being unfinished, sketches are sketches and comparing those to finished inks would be absurd

It's that Oda's actual linework has gotten really rough

And it's not his fault, dude's been working on this god forsaken series for so many decades, he can only do as much as his health allows and this is it. That's just how it goes, and it's okay

It's just sad to watch, and going back to old chapters makes it even more painful due to how dropdead gorgeous and clean the linework used to be

Like early OP the artwork was absolutely Too Clean, to the point the art could look quite stiff (though charming still in its own right). But when you get to that 2008-2012 era especially, Oda's linework had gotten plenty looser so it wasn't stiff anymore but at the same time it was so clean and beautiful to look at

Now Oda has the god tier composition and everything else going for him still, the linework is just really rough and messy at times. It's just how life goes. It just makes me sad.

[iimmaranhu]

//drained and angry, hiatus in effect

[c-nan]

hate my stupid heart that’s been held onto a “what if” for the past 13 years that makes any other possible romantic partner pale in comparison

[psychoticwillgraham]

even if my bday is somehow bad, it’ll never be worse than trump getting elected on my 21st bday

[kashverse]

sukuna was relieved that dinosaurs were extinct. not because he feared them. no—if dinosaurs were still around, he was convinced babykuna would have asked for one as a pet. and considering they already had mr pickles, a fat maine coon who took up more space than necessary, sukuna did not need a t-rex running around the house. but it turns out, dinosaurs are the new hyperfixation. because babykuna had been drawing. and with a proud flourish, she presented her latest masterpiece to you.

“mama, look!” she beamed. “it’s all of us!”

you took the paper, studying it carefully. it was…something.

mr pickles was drawn the size of a mountain, looking strangely reptilian, and on his mighty back sat three figures. you, sukuna, and babykuna herself. “is… is this us riding mr pickles?” you asked, impressed by the sheer creativity.

babykuna nodded enthusiastically.

sukuna peered over your shoulder, rubbing his chin. “so you’re saying if dinosaurs were real, you’d rather ride the damn cat?”

“mr pickles is special.” babykuna huffed.

sukuna scoffed but before he could argue further, she whipped out another drawing. this one had him depicted as a dinosaur, spewing fire, his arms comically tiny compared to his body. and right next to it? the word "FUCK" hastily scribbled out as if the artist was trying to cover up evidence of a crime.

sukuna stared.

“…what the hell is this?”

“your dinosaur form!” babykuna chirped, proud of her creation.

you were already wheezing, but the real kicker? there was a drawing of you next to sukuna’s disaster of a dinosaur. and it was perfect. like, disturbingly accurate—hair detailed, outfit immaculate, expression soft yet regal. compared to sukuna’s dinosaur, which looked like a rough draft from a caveman’s notebook.

sukuna’s eye twitched.

“okay, hold on. why does mama get a masterpiece while i look like a half-eaten turkey leg?”

babykuna gasped. “papa, don’t be rude to dinosaur you!”

“dinosaur me looks like he gave up on life halfway through.”

you, laughing, ruffled babykuna’s hair. “i think it’s beautiful, sweetheart.”

babykuna beamed. sukuna grumbled. mr pickles, the real-life dinosaur substitute, stretched lazily across the floor, clearly thriving.

[bahablastplz]

Come Play: Chan x Reader

You and Chan are playing a dangerous game of who will break first... and it's not going to be you. CW: Teasing, spanking, choking, hair-pulling, dom! Chan, unprotected sex, rough sex, degradation (use of words like whore and slut), safe words mentioned WC: 2200

You aren’t sure how you got yourself into this mess in the first place. You and your boyfriend were playing a dangerous game, one that neither of you were willing to admit. 

You had only been dating for a few months, sure, but you found yourself overrun with desire just about every time you saw Chan. He, apparently, felt the same way, always pressing searing kisses to your lips and neck. It never went further than that–he wanted to go slow with you, take the time to explore your relationship and all that. 

Gazes became more intense and touches started to linger… then he started smacking your ass. Playfully, of course, whenever you walked by. He giggled at the way your cheeks would flush and the way you wouldn’t look at him. Whenever you decided to return the favor, however, he was faster. He would always catch your hand before you landed a smack onto his perfect ass, much to your dismay. 

You found the perfect opportunity during movie night. He was walking toward you on the couch, his arms full of blankets and various snacks, no way to defend himself… He must have seen the mischievous glint in your eye. “Don’t,” he warned you, but you were already winding up to send a loud, playful smack right to his behind. You erupted into a fit of giggles until you saw the look in his eyes, straight-up predatory. Your blood ran cold and before you knew it you were up and running toward your room, unable to stop your laughter. Chan dropped everything in his hands and ran after you, grabbing you by the waist and slinging you over his shoulder. Perfect, you thought, as you now had direct access to his ass that you playfully smacked a hundred times as he hauled you into your bedroom. What you weren’t expecting was for him to throw you on the bed and drag you over his lap. 

“Chan, what–” 

“You think you’re so funny,” he mocked. You squirmed in his lap, unsure of his intentions but he was quick to splay one large palm on your back, effectively keeping you in place. He grabbed the bottoms of your shorts, hiking them up until your bare ass was on display for him. 

“Wait, Chan, I didn’t mean to–” 

THWACK. 

He landed one very harsh hit straight to the flesh of your cheek causing you to cry out. Well… okay. Maybe you moaned. Loudly. 

He kneads the flesh, soothing it with deft fingers. You don’t have to look at him to see that he’s smirking. You’re just as surprised when he lands a twin smack to the same impacted area. The third one comes just as quickly and before you know it, he’s adjusting your shorts for you and pulling you to your feet. 

“Movie time?” he asked nonchalantly as if that did not just happen. You nod weakly, face scorching hot. If this was a game he was definitely winning. 

*** 

Day 1 of trying to rile up Chan and win… whatever this was. You are much more obvious with your touches, trailing a finger down his muscled chest and blinking at him innocently. The real kicker, however, is when you kneel right in front of him and pull back your hair. He leans back on the couch and spreads his legs, a dangerous look in his eyes before you abruptly stand up. 

“Found it!” you exclaim, holding your phone up for him to see. His jaw clenches, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek as he smiles tightly. You felt smug and you weren’t afraid to show it, smiling back at him proudly. 

He makes it up to you later when he walks up behind you in the kitchen where you’re cooking dinner. He wraps his arms around your waist and presses up behind you impossibly close where you can feel his bulge pressing into you. You gasp, stilling as he pushes his hips against you; the friction is delicious and you can’t help the breathy sound that escapes your lips, wound up from the past few days. He reaches above you then, grabbing a pan from the cabinet before pulling apart and giving you a saccharine-sweet grin. “Found it,” he mocks. You roll your eyes at him and huff. You are not going to break first.

Over dinner, you moan unabashedly into your food. You’re obnoxious about it, closing your eyes and tilting your head back as you savor the food. Chan is stiff the whole meal, and it probably seals the deal when you reach over and grab his hand, pulling his fingers into your mouth as you suck the sauce from his fingertips. You make sure to let out a little groan around them, even going as far as to swirl your tongue around them and give him an intensely seductive look. 

He laughs nervously, his ears turning crimson. You had the upper hand. 

Next movie night, he pulls you close to his body, cradling you in his arms. His hands stroke up and down your arms, soothing you as you relax into him. You should’ve known it was a facade, however, when he reaches down to pull up your blanket and his thumb brushes over your nipple. He circles over it once, twice, before he finishes pulling the blanket up. “Oops,” he says. If you were relaxed before, you definitely aren’t now. 

The next day you find the most scandalous outfit you can pull from your closet. A thin tank top, no bra, and the shortest little skirt you own with a very pretty yet suggestive pair of panties. The second Chan sees you he tenses and you can already tell the outfit has the desired effect, but you decide to push it even further, dropping your wallet right in front of him and bending down to pick it up. You’re slow, deliberate, and you can feel his gaze on you. You give him a perfect view of your panties and you even wiggle your ass, taunting him. Then just as fast you pick up the dropped item as if nothing had happened. 

His hand stays on your thigh all night. You’re not sure how much longer you can keep up this act, every little touch making all of your nerves stand on end. He squeezes your thigh, rubbing circles against the flesh as his fingers trail up, up, up… He toys with the bottom of your panties, his fingers playing sensually with the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You barely breathe. 

God this game is progressing at an alarming rate… But you have an ace up your sleeve. 

Time for another movie night that is sure to go mostly unwatched, the tension palpable between you two. 

“Can we cuddle?” you ask. It’s innocent enough. He sees no wrong with your suggestion despite the way his brows furrow and he tries to read between the lines. And so he pulls you close to his chest and wraps an arm around your torso. You can feel the heat of his breath on your neck as he presses play on the film… you didn’t even catch the name of it. 

Because it takes all of five minutes for you to wiggle your ass against his front, intentional about the way you brush against the bulge in his pants. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, voice low. Your heart rate increases tenfold and you can’t help the giddy smile on your face. 

“Getting comfy,” you explain. You squirm even more and you feel his hand grasp even harder against your torso, trying to hold you in place. You can feel his length harden behind you and you grind against it, grind, grind, grind… 

“Fuck this,” he says abruptly, throwing the blanket off of you. He grabs your hair and drags you to the end of the couch, bending you over it. “Here I was, trying to be a gentleman… wanted to be nice and gentle for our first time… but you had to be a brat, play these mind games with me, yeah?” He grabs your shorts and panties and pulls them down your legs in one swift blow, leaving you exposed to him. 

“You started it,” you remind him. “Had to… bend me over and spank me like it was nothing.” 

“Was trying to show you what happens when you misbehave… Obviously you missed that memo.” He slides his fingers through your folds, not surprised to see you’re soaking wet. He reaches his hand around your front and pushes his fingers past your lips, making you taste yourself. He’s a little harsh, pushing his fingers back a little further than necessary. 

“You liked it,” you accuse. “You tried to one-up me every time.” He lands a harsh slap to your ass and you moan, burying your head into the couch. He grabs your neck, pulling you up until your back is pressed up against his chest. 

“I’ll make you regret it,” he whispers into your ear. “I’m not going to go easy on you, and when I pound into your tight little pussy you’ll wish we never played this game. Safeword is… uh, pineapple, yeah?” 

You nod at him and he lets go of your throat, allowing you to fall forward once again. You hear the sound of him unbuckling his belt and the notable thunk of fabric hitting the floor. He pushes forward until his length is sliding against your core, his thick tip teasing your clit with each thrust. It feels incredible… the days and weeks of tension more than worth it for this outcome. 

His tip catches at your entrance and he begins to push in, slamming his hips into yours. He bottoms out immediately, easy thanks to your dripping arousal, and god you swear you can feel him in your guts. 

“Big,” you mumble. 

“You can take it,” he snaps. “Don’t try to back out now when you’ve been teasing me like a little slut all week.” You moan at that, clenching around him at his words. One large hand spreads across your lower back, pushing you further into the couch. He pulls out slowly and you can feel inch by agonizing inch of his length as he drags his cock along your walls before he slams back into you just as hard, causing you to cry out. 

Before you know it his hands are on your hips, bruising tight as he uses you for leverage to snap his cock relentlessly into your hips. The pace he sets is absolutely brutal and mind-numbing, and you can’t help the spew of cries and nonsense that falls past your lips. You beg him, though you’re not sure for what. Reprieve? No, you certainly didn’t want that. 

He uses your body for his pleasure. You’re not even sure your feet are touching the floor with the speed and strength that he pounds into you with. You’re blabbering and you’ve never felt so good, his length reaching parts of you that have never been touched before. Your clit rubs deliciously on the arm of the couch and the sensations are almost overstimulating but a new level of pleasure you didn’t know existed. 

You arch your back and try to turn your head to look at him but his eyes grow so dark your breath catches in your throat. You aren’t expecting for him to lift one leg up, pinning your head down to the couch with a socked foot as he resumes the brutal pace. 

SMACK. 

One hit to your ass has you clenching around him as you let out a noise that is straight-up pornagraphic. “That’s for licking my fingers and moaning like a whore.” 

SMACK.

“That’s for that slutty little outfit you wore.” His pace quickens, and how is that even possible? He’s already breaking records for how fast his hips are pistoning into yours. 

SMACK. 

This one is the hardest yet and he follows it by grabbing the sensitive flesh hard. “And this, this is for that little display on the couch. Grinding your hips into me like you’re so desperate for my cock.” 

Your orgasm hits you like a freight-train. You all but scream as you come undone around him, spasming and pulsing around his cock and yelling his name like it's a mantra. He fucks you right through it past the point of sensitivity and he’s quiet now, thrusting into you only a handful of times before he slows, pushing himself as deep into you as he can go and grinding into your sopping core as he releases. You feel every pulse and twitch of his cock before you’re flooded with his hot cum and god it feels like he’s spilling buckets inside of you, his orgasm seeming to last a full minute. 

When he pulls out of you you both release a content sigh before he picks you up and carries you to the shower. 

“Was I too rough?” he asks, suddenly shy as his ears go red. It’s cute, the way he can spew utter filth into your ears and fuck you like it’s your last day alive before turning into a blushing, sheepish mess. 

“No,” you reassure him. “In all honesty that’s the exact outcome I wanted.” He laughs at that, turning on the stream of water as he helps you to your feet, washing your body for you. 

“I promise next time… geez, that’s really not how I expected our first time to go, you minx!” he interrupts himself with a fit of giggles. “Next time I’ll really do it right.” He kisses your neck and you hum into him. 

“Does this mean I won the game?” 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n: yes i still plan on releasing that omegaverse fic but it's a long one and this inspiration hit me like a truck <3

masterlist

[anthotneystark]

Well, if you're rough and ready for love (Honey, I'm tougher than the rest)

(edit: now on ao3!)

Eddie is suffering.

It’s hardly the first time, but it’s self-inflicted this time. At least it’s not going to physically almost kill him like the bats did.

Emotionally, sure, but not physically. That has to be some kind of win.

“Did you get Vecna’d? Do I have to get my trumpet? I don’t know if you can play Metallica on a horn, but I’ll try if you need me to.”

“Buckley, I would pay money to see you attempt it,” he says absently, his gaze never moving.

“Good, I could use the bonus.”

“Probably a good time to say I’ve only got Monopoly money.”

“Damn, there goes that plan.”

He hums an agreement, startling a moment later when a hand is suddenly blocking his view.

“Stop drooling, it’s not attractive.”

“Nothing about me is attractive to you.”

“Fair, but still. Ew,” she snorts.

“It’s not my fault, I can’t help it. He’s just so���.” He doesn’t even have a word for it, so he just sighs.

“Who would have thought. Mr. Anti-Conformity drooling over Jock Extraordinaire. He’s wearing pastels. What have you become?”

“Shut up, he’s your platonic soulmate.”

“He is. And I love him. I just also know that he’s all sporty and preppy.”

“He can be as sporty as he wants as long as he keeps wearing those shorts he had on the other day.”

“Gross.”

“Even you can admit he looked good.”

“Sure, but you’re drooling again.”

He should be allowed a little drool. Steve had looked so biteable.

“He’s not even wearing shorts today, it’s too cold for that, doofus.” It was. Summer had well and truly turned into fall. Shorts had been replaced by jeans (except on the days Steve and Lucas played basketball, then the shorts came back out), polos more often than not were exchanged for sweaters, and by god, it was kissing him even more than the shorts and tank tops of summer had.

(This is without even considering the extreme number of shirts that Steve had sacrificed to become half shirts “for more air flow, because I can’t just walk around shirtless, obviously.” Because it was obvious. Showing his chest was too much, but the soft skin of his stomach, interrupted by the trail of dark hair vanishing under his waist band, wasn’t too much. Obviously.)

It made no sense. It shouldn’t have been worse with less skin showing. But it was because somehow, knowing that the soft knit of those sweaters was covering slowly paling skin, strong muscles and that beautiful, amazing layer of softness that rounded out hard edges…well, it completely ruined his train of thought until he couldn’t remember where he’d been going originally.

Worth it, just getting to imagine how Steve looked under his clothes.

“He’s worn this stuff before, why does it have you in a coma today?” Robin sighs, put upon even though it was her decision to sit with him.

“His hair.” Because that was the kicker today. Because Steve Harrington had never walked outside looking less than completely perfect.

Because Steve somehow managed to look amazing even roughed up and dirty.

Because Stevie was comfortable with himself and picked the clothes he liked and didn’t bother hiding scars that only proved how far he’d be willing to go to protect his loved ones and didn’t care about if he didn’t look perfect.

“He didn’t style it.”

“I can see how you’d get that impression, but I assure you he did.”

“What?!” That makes Eddie finally look at her, nearly falling over where he’s sat.

“Yeah. It’s just not hairspray. He’s trying something new.”

“It works for him.” The response is automatic. Because it’s true. Because poofed up and closer to god could only work on someone as pretty as Steve, and gunked up and water-logged could only work on someone as pretty as Steve, and bedhead could only look that good on someone as pretty as Steve.

Steve is just. So pretty.

But today, today it’s not firmly in place, soft even if it’s not going to move from it’s position. Today it’s not slicked back with water as he pops up from under it to splash one of the kids. Today it’s not half flat from where he slept on it, the same side he’ll leave pressed into Eddie’s shoulder if he’s not quite ready to start the day.

Today, it’s soft, curling around his ears, over his forehead, fluttering in the wind. It’s not the same kind of curly that his own hair is, the chaotic kind that if he tried to brush it, it’d eat the brush. It’s gentler, and he desperately wants to touch it.

“Seriously, I’m worried about your brain right now.”

“My brain is fine.”

“Close your mouth then.” Well, that’s embarrassing. He tosses a glare at her, and it’s just enough time to miss Steve heading their way. He does fall over where he’s sitting this time, but it’s so worth it because it makes Steve laugh.

He’d do an embarrassing amount of things to hear that laugh.

“You okay?” Steve asks, looking so fond and amused at Eddie’s antics that it makes his heart skip a beat.

It’s still surprising, having that look aimed at him, getting it from Steve.

“Fear not, Sir Stevington, I will survive,” he says, pushing himself up dramatically. Steve’s eyes crinkle as he snorts another laugh, and they both ignore Robin quietly bleching.

“Yeah? Good. I’d hate to see you get through everything just to get taken out by your own theatrics,” Steve says. Eddie doesn’t even have time to react – Steve’s smiling and that always slows him down – when his gorgeous, beautiful friend pulls off that pale green sweater and presses it into Eddie’s hands.

“Don’t get cold on me, alright? I saw you shivering,” he says, like he hasn’t just ruffled his own hair once more and completely distracted all of Eddie’s thoughts in the blink of an eye.

And then he’s gone, off to give another attempt at skateboarding (trying to follow Max’s instructions and letting her laugh at him when she hears him fall before she does whatever trick it is perfectly even without her sight), and Eddie is left standing there, watching that perfect, broad back covered by a too tight tee shirt.

“This is a whole new level of pathetic, I think.”

“Shup it,” Eddie says, then freezes, feels her shit-eating grin growing. “Shut up!” He groans.

She can laugh all she wants, he decides, pulling Steve’s sweater over his head. It’s warm with his body heat, smells like his soap and his cologne and him.

She can laugh, he’s got a beautiful boy to watch, one who looks at him with a promise of what’s to come, when the time is right.

[bookstattoosandtea]

Release Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway: Roughing the Kicker by Rheland Richmond & Emerson Beckett

Release Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway: Roughing the KickerBy Rheland Richmond & Emerson Beckett The Package Deal Series, Book 6 Do you believe in fate? Yeah, me neither until the sexy Navy SEAL I hooked up with three years ago suddenly reappears back in my life in the form of one of my best friends’ older brother. And now, they want me to share a room with him in the Keys. “Can you share a room with…

[burreauxsworld]

Can we get dad Joe where he has five boys all mini him and wife is pregnant with baby girl🌸

This is such a vastly different thing for me to write because I imagine Joe being the biggest girl dad but I’m gonna give it a shot!

~~~

The Burrow household is nothing short of chaos. A controlled chaos though. The kind of chaos that brings a smile to your face as you watch your four rambunctious little boys run around. You and your husband, Joe, have 4 little boys and a little girl on the way.

There’s Jackson and Joseph Jr, the twins and the two oldest at 7 years old. Then there’s Dylan, who’s 5. Lastly, Colby, who’s 3. All of them are carbon copies of your husband. With their big ocean blue eyes and curly dirty blonde hair.

Jackson, like Joe, is big into football. The two of them throw the ball back and forth for hours. Joseph on the other hand, is more of a mama’s boy. Just like his father before him. Whenever you went, little Joey went. Whenever Joe went, Jackson wasn’t far behind. The two little ones, however, could go either way. Sometimes they wanted you, sometimes they wanted Joe. It just depended on the day.

Today, it was the latter. You leaned against the door frame of the sliding glass doors leading to your backyard, watching as your husband and four boys played a game of football. Well, Colby attempted to play, but he mostly just stumbled around the yard messing with whatever random toys he could find.

A smile graced your lips as you watched your husband show his boys how to throw the perfect spiral. You laid a gentle hand on your baby bump, glancing down.

“Be prepared. This is your life” you mumble, looking back up at your boys. “Mama,” Colby babbles, while he stumbles toward you. “Mommy’s home!” Dylan tells, capturing the attention of his brothers and father. “And she brought dinner, because she doesn’t feel like cooking” you tell them, as little arms wrap around your lower half.

“Alright boys, careful. Don’t be too rough” Joe reminds them, planting a kiss on your forehead while the boys ran toward the kitchen table.

“How’s baby Gracie?” He asks with a smile. “Very active today. I think she might be the bengals newest kicker” you joke and he beams with pride. One thing Joe couldn’t wait for, was the arrival of his little girl.

[koralcove]

okay, but like... the thought of sylus and xavier of how they generally are in bed... like, i think some ppl get them swapped up, coz like...

everyone's saying that sylus is such a beast in bed and would absolutely demolish you until your legs feel like you'd need to go through physical therapy to walk again... and they're absolutely right.

BUT

i also hear those who say that sylus is an absolutely soft and sensual lover in bed, and honestly, that version speaks TRUTH. because, HAVE YOU SEEN THAT MAN WITH US?! the way his character progresses with becoming absolutely, indescribably, adoringly soft with us. the big bad, dark and mysterious, cold-blooded, ruthless leader of onychinus is willing to do things out of his element just because we think it's fun. you want matching cute onesies? he's already purchased a pair for us. you want to go take silly photos together and hang out in an amusement park where he could be publicly seen doing mundane and questionably harmless activities that personally don't look like it suits his style? if that's what you want, then he's not opposed to it.

that man is absolutely soft with us, and you can't tell me that he wouldn't prefer to make sweet, deep, lovin' with his darling. the way he'd want to be pressed impossibly close to you, your body so soft against him, taking every bit of effort to not rush into this intimate moment with you because he wants to feel every inch of your skin tracing on his fingertips. he wants to prolong the sensation of your warmth radiating to him, shushing your whines with his deep baritones of, "there there, sweetie. no need to rush, i'm not going anywhere," always with that teasing lilt in his voice, but it can't cover up the adoration spilling out of him.

and god, he'd be gentle with you. he knows you can take what he gives you, knows what you're capable of. but damn, he couldn't resist giving you all that gentle devotion because you're just so precious to him. and through all the rough edges of his living, he wants to give you something tender. wants to bare how putty you make him just from your presence alone. he doesn't think of it as a weakness. in fact, it fuels his fire of making sure to stake his claim on you properly by giving you all you deserve. and he always sets the pace. wants you to feel how absolutely weak-kneed you make him in an imitation of his light touches that set small sparks of desire on your skin, pressing searing kisses on you as an invisible brand until he finally gives in to the lust gnawing at him, but making sure to always, always, be careful with you.

and then, there's xavier...

xavier with his cherub-like features that you think can do no harm if you didn't know him well enough. with how he looks like a constantly clueless puppy that you can easily please with the temptation of a nap time, you'd think he'd be the type to go with some lazy, intimate love making with you while you're both half-awake... which is not wrong, really, but that's just the tip of the iceberg.

as someone who goes with the flow, xavier is not opposed to anything you would suggest, even if the idea itself seems outlandish, then that boy is down (just like how down bad he is for you). you wanna be on top? cool, no problem with him being the pillow princess. you want him to take you from behind? he'll give you an absolutely mind-blowing back shot. but the kicker with xavier is that he's an absolute FREAK (we talkin' abt neck-breaking freaky deaky shit), and i love how everyone collectively agrees on that. because there's just smth abt a man who appears so unbothered by a lot of things, always cool in faces of plight (and girl, his heartbeat is literally slow, does nothing ever faze him???) that the thought of him going wild is just a big ol' WOWZA. AND PAIRED WITH THAT INNOCENT LI'L PUPPY FACE OF HIS?! oh honey, i'm already unzipping your pants for you-

and honey, his strength... his stamina?! girl, he be the kind to go at it alllll night. "once isn't enough" ALREADY SAYS A LOT. and that man is not shy at all, because you can't tell me that he whispers absolute filth in your ear, catching you off guard at how uncharacteristic it seems of him, but it flows so smoothly through his tongue that you just have to wonder what kind of thoughts run through his head when he's with you, because rn, as he's pounding you silly against the mattress, hips pistoning into you at lightning speed, yet still hitting oh so deep into you, he's absolutely insatiable for you. and he would not hesitate to go all out on you as long as he knows you can handle it. because he knows it can be too much. but when he sees those tears streaming down your cheeks from how good his dick is at making you see stars, shaking under him as you grip onto his arm, he couldn't resist with bullying your poor overstimulated body and getting an orgasm out of you just one more time out of... maybe three? seven? he's lost count.

but don't get me wrong, xavier is still the type to be skin-achingly intimate with you. loves how you're pressed against him as you both lazily rock your hips against one another. but it just so happens that he's a absolutely ravenous with you as well, rutting into you like a bunny in heat.

with sylus, love making with him is tender, reverent, but never losing that intensity, while xavier is absolutely uninhibited and would even lose track of the amount of times you've already cummed for him.

[juanaa-ii]

In another universe, Mike would’ve been a kick-ass secretary. Not Harvey’s secretary but like some CEO’s secretary because I’m sure you don’t need a college degree for that (or maybe you do?)

It’d be a cool story. Harvey decides, ultimately, he can’t risk hiring Mike and lets him go after the cops are gone. Even gives him his business card and tells Mike that if he ever needs any help, he’d take his case pro-bono.

Mike is sullen but goes back to bike riding deliveries. The CEO just had his secretary walk out on him and he’s down on his luck, looking for someone competent. In comes this smart know-it-all kid who not only memorized the layout of his firm enough to deliver his package promptly, but also knows just from a glance at the documents that the CEO shouldn’t take a deal he was just about to sign.

And Mike goes on this whole tangent about how terrible the deal is and this CEO is baffled and thinks ‘I want this guy’ and then Mike spills his whole life story again (Because obviously) and the CEO is like ‘you’re hired, you don’t need a college degree for this job’.

And it’s a rough week, adjusting to his new boss and his coworkers but while he isn’t rising so much in social situations, he’s certainly even brighter then CEO hoped for.

And, biggest kicker? The CEO is recently signed off as a client of Pearson Hardman. Or, particularly, as Harvey Spector’s client.

The whole point of this tangent wasn’t about Harvey or Jessica or Louis. It was actually about Donna. I think the two of them would’ve been great friends if Mike was a secretary. Mike would’ve been like Donna. He’s terrifying but unlike Donna, he’s completely oblivious to it. Donna reads people but Mike memorizes images and conversations. His visual and auditory skills scares the others. When he asks for something, you do it because you don’t know if he has dirt on you and you don’t know if he’s seen what you did in the bathroom or if he’s heard the conversation you had in the break room.

Mike just thinks the others are very kind workers.

Now that I think about it…what if Mike was Louis’s secretary?? Oh lord.

[doeinlace]

EPISODE ONE – "pretty little thing"

a soldier boy x innocent!reader mini series series masterlist

he sees you before you see him. all wide-eyed innocence wrapped up in something too soft, too delicate for a place like this. you don’t belong—not in a bar like this, not surrounded by the kind of men who take what they want without asking. you’re something sweet in a room full of rot, and maybe that’s why he can’t stop looking at you.

but the real kicker? you walked in anyway.

you stepped into the lion’s den, wrapped in something soft and powdery pink, like you didn’t realize you were putting yourself on display. like you didn’t feel the weight of every gaze snapping toward you, some more lingering than others. but his? his is different. his is locked in, razor-sharp, dark with interest.

he waits. watches. lets you squirm a little.

your fingers are fidgeting with the hem of your dress, your lips pursed like you’re trying to make yourself small. but you feel it, don’t you? the way his gaze burns, how it drags over the curve of your throat, your bare shoulders, the hint of lace peeking from beneath your neckline. you’re pretending not to notice, pretending not to know exactly who he is.

that’s cute.

he could drag this out, let you shift under his gaze, let you pretend you don’t feel the air thickening between you. but he’s never been a patient man.

his boots hit the floor heavy as he moves, making sure you hear him before he even reaches you. he’s big, broad, all heat and dominance when he settles beside you at the bar. the bartender barely acknowledges him—one look is all it takes for them to pour him a drink, no questions asked. but you? you’re frozen, stiff, your hands going still in your lap.

“you lost, sweetheart?” his voice is rough, tinged with amusement, like he already knows the answer.

you don’t look at him right away, like you think ignoring him might make him disappear. that just makes him smirk.

finally, your head tilts, those big doe eyes blinking up at him, and fuck, that does something to him.

“no,” you murmur, voice soft, barely above the hum of the room.

his grin widens. “no?” he parrots, resting an arm against the bar, his frame caging you in. “then what’s a girl like you doin’ in a place like this?”

you hesitate, lips parting like you’re gonna answer, but nothing comes out.

he chuckles, low and rough, fingers reaching out before you can even think to flinch. he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering at the delicate curve of your jaw.

“bet nobody’s ever laid a hand on you, huh?” his voice drops lower, more private, just for you. his thumb drags along the slope of your chin, teasing, barely-there, but enough to make you inhale sharply. “not the way i would.”

your breath stutters, the kind of sound that makes him want to push. test how much he can take before you snap, before you turn into something desperate, something pliant just for him.

he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his breath warm. “what’s the matter, sweetheart?” it’s taunting and sweet all at once, a cruel little contrast. “scared?”

you don’t say yes.

but you don’t say no either.

and that’s all the answer he needs.

he grins, slow and easy, leaning back just enough to look at you properly. there’s something so damn satisfying about the way your lashes flutter, the way your lips tremble like you don’t trust yourself to speak.

yeah. he’s gonna have fun with this.

taglist

@jasvtsc @angelackless @soldiersgirl @soangelbaby @figthoughts @cowboysandcigarettes @dulcescorderitas @clairereadin @bluemerakis @sl33pylilbunny @ilovedilfs-4-ever @lunaleah @sydneytommostyles comment to be added

[billieonmars]

Carl Grimes x Gn!reader

Baby cuddles

Notes: This one was inspired by my baby nephew who is the sweetest baby in the whole world. I was rocking him to sleep and I just needed to write about babies cute little quirks :) also I know the gif doesn't match the ages of Carl and Judith in the fic, I just couldn't find one of young Carl and baby Judith.

Summary: New baby Judith has just entered the world and Carl's significant other takes it upon themselves to care for her.

Warnings: Talk about death of kids (not Judith), kissing, crying

The moment little ass kicker came into the world she was screaming and fighting. Her face red, gummy mouth wide, and fists clenched tight as if she would punch the first person she saw. Carl hadn't thought anything of her when she sucked in her first breath. He dotted over Lori while Maggie held the baby close. It was his mom; he had to do it.

Y/N wasn't there, thank God. Carl wasn't sure how he would deal with Y/N watching him kill his own mother. It was bad enough that they knew he did it, let alone watching him do it.

However, Y/N was there to take the baby from Carl's arms and into their own. She was small, too small. Despite them giving Lori more food than the rest, Y/N had a feeling it was pretty much impossible to keep the both of them fed properly.

Y/N was also there when they named her. Judith; old fashioned but comforting in a time where it's needed. The name made sense, Judith was the place most would head to when times got rough. Y/N especially took to the baby, often caring for her when everyone else was busy. Even though Beth tried to help out, Y/N would push her away and reassure her that they knew what they were doing.

And they did. The only person who knew about Y/N's family was Carl. They didn't open up to Carl about it until he asked; it was confusing how someone his age was already so good with babies. Y/N told him of their younger siblings. A sister and a baby brother, both of which Y/N helped take care of when their sick mother struggled to. They were only young when they changed their first diaper and made their first bottle of formula. It broke Carl's heart when they told him what inevitably happened to the young kids in the apocalypse.

Because of this, when Rick was off, succumbing to his own delusions, Y/N was the one flapping around the baby like a little hen. Carl helped as much as he could but he could never figure out why she was crying. Y/N, however, spoke the language of babies and knew instantly what she needed. Carl asked them how one time. He knew Y/N had siblings they cared for, but they seemed to have a parents sense that was only gained from deep experience.

"It's easy if you spend all day with her. You can see her face scrunch differently when she's hungry. And when she's sleepy she'll rub her eyes." Carl felt a little guilty that Y/N had spent enough time with her to notice the signs. He felt bad for not being closer to his own baby sister. So from that moment he decided he'll spend more time with the two.

The next day he was up and walking to Y/N's cell early. He knew Judith woke earlier than anyone and wanted to see if he could offer any help to Y/N. After all, he wouldn't want to be dealing with a fussy baby all by himself in the morning.

Judith sat in Y/N's arms as they leaned back against the cold wall. A bottle was stuck between her lips as she sucked and sucked. Judith always drank as if she was being starved. Sometimes when formula was low, Judith had to take it easy on the bottles and it ended up with a very upset baby for the day. No one could blame her; she was so small and unknowing of the horrible world around her. Y/N had already made it a promise to themselves to find her a home safe from the walking dead.

"Hey, you need any help?" Y/N was startled as they hadn't seen Carl come in. They jumped and baby Judith grunted. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay. It's just-" they sighed, "Judith kept me up all night. She refused to go to sleep." Only then did Carl notice the dark rings around Y/N's eyes.

"Why didn't you ask me for help? Or Beth, or my dad? We can help, you don't need to take care of her all on your own." Carl moved closer and laid his hand on top of Y/N's head, combing the hair between his fingers. Y/N leaned into it, closing their eyes.

"Rick is still off his rocker, and I'm going to be honest; you and Beth aren't that great with babies." Sure Beth was gentle and soothing, but she wasn't fully equipped to handle a baby.

"I know I'm not that great with babies, but I can still help. She is my sister, after all."

"Okay, grab a diaper and a pack of wipes. She needs to be changed." By the time he had gotten the supplies, Judith had finished her bottle and was squirming uncomfortably in Y/N's arms.

Eventually, the diaper was changed and Judith was given a stuffed animal to play with. Carl went between playing with Judith and staring at Y/N. He couldn't help but admire them. It wasn't just their appearance that had drawn him in (although that was pretty nice), it was everything about them. They were selfless, kind, and had a beautiful connection with Judith. Y/N was always worrying about others before themselves, so Carl knew he was going to be the one to worry about them.

On their next run out of the prison, consisting of just Glenn and Daryl, Carl had asked for a few things. He noticed how Y/N's socks had holes, and how they only had a thin blanket for the cold nights. And most of all he noticed how Y/N had no hobbies or anything for entertainment. Despite their lack of electricity, some coloring pages or a puzzle could keep one entertained for a while.

After giving them a list of things for Y/N, he went back to their cell. Y/N and Judith sat on the bed asleep. Judith's face was pressed into Y/N's chest and her hands gripped their shirt tightly. In this moment Carl wished he had a camera, one of the polaroid ones that would print a little picture for him to carry around in his back pocket.

He carefully shifted them closer to the wall and slipped into the bed next to them. He wrapped his arm around Y/N's shoulders and held them close. Their relationship was complicated. They never expressed wanting to date or even be together in any way. However, cuddles and pecks were always present whenever they were alone. No words were spoken as they did these things because none needed to be said.

Y/N slowly opened their eyes, looking at Carl sleepily. Their foreheads met as they looked into one another's eyes. After a while, Y/N shut their eyes and leaned their head on Carl's shoulder.

"Hey." Y/N's voice was quiet and raspy, showing the sleep that had yet to ware off. "what are you doing here?" Carl took a deep breath of their hair.

"Glenn and Daryl left for the run. I had nothing else to do so I came to visit you and Judith." Y/N opened their eyes and nuzzled their nose into Carl's cheek. It was a habit they picked up a few weeks ago, it started when they had to be quiet as they slept close to walkers. It was a silent way for them to ask for a kiss. So Carl obliged, turning his head and pressing his lips to Y/N's. It was soft and perfect, like all their kisses were. They breathed each other in, not wanting to separate.

Their kissing stopped when they heard noises coming from Judith. Y/N quickly looked and prayed that she wasn't waking up; she got very grumpy if her nap was cut short. Thankfully, her eyes remained shut but she was more awake than she was before. Y/N could tell because she started lightly playing with his shirt, moving the fabric in between her small fingers. The action was reminiscent of the way she soothed herself to sleep with her stuffed rabbit. She played with their shirt in the same way she played with the rabbit's ears.

Y/N couldn't help but coo at the noises she made while she sucked away at her pacifier. Judith had a tendency to sigh and awe when she was content, which she was, asleep on Y/N's chest. She wasn't old enough to begin babbling yet, only being born a few weeks ago. However, the scrunched face she made when she was mad combined with her little noises, made it seem as if she was ready to burst out full sentences at any moment.

Judith made a noise again, this time one of struggling. She grunted as she tried to move herself closer to Y/N but failed because she hasn't yet learned to control her own body. Y/N helped her out, switching her from their chest to their arms as if they were feeding her a bottle. Judith accepted the new position and fell back into a deep sleep.

Before either of them realized it, tears were falling down Y/N's face. They couldn't help it as their body was wracked with sobs. Y/N tried to stop it as they didn't want to wake the sleeping baby. But the sobs were too harsh, shaking their whole body. Carl leaned over instantly to take Judith from their arms. He carefully placed the sleeping girl in her pack n' play and returned to Y/N.

"It's okay, come here." Y/N allowed themselves to be brought into Carl's lap and to snuggle into his chest. They breathed him in again, not knowing when this could end. Y/N was a mess of emotions; they missed their siblings and mom. The young kids, barely making it to toddlerhood, were gone. They were terrorized by dreams of their dead, reanimated bodies jerking and crawling on the floor. How could something so innocent be brought to this? They could still smell the flesh, the rotten, innocent flesh of babies.

Y/N hated it. They hated the memories, they hated the flashbacks, the nightmares, and most of all they hated how Judith was a reminder. She was a reminder of what they couldn't do; protect the babies. If they had only been there an hour earlier, if only they ran faster, if only... if only they did anything.

"I hate it, Carl. I can't stand it anymore." Sobs had turned to sniffles by the time they spoke. The tears were no longer falling as they had dried up. "Their faces haunt me." Carl shushed them and kissed their forehead.

"I know. It'll never leave you, the smell, the sight, the sounds. But we can push through. We will not die like this. We'll die when we're good and ready; all old and wrinkly."

Y/N tearily smiled at his words. Carl wasn't the best at comforting people but he knew just what to say when it came to Y/N.

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Words: 1875

This one is shorter than I usually like to write but I didn't know how to keep it going.