#Stuff not enough women are told before having kids

[allurilove]

Camp Counselor x you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: yandere best friend x fem reader, you guys are both camp counselors, bimbo reader, protective and obsessed behavior, mentions of blowjobs, fingering, manipulation, sort of fwb, he's whipped for you.

*Finally a yandere with a name! He goes by "Pres" or "your best friend." I should be working on other stuff soon, but I can't focus for some reason. LOL! Maybe yandere husband part four next, or the superhero. This is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: Your best friend convinces you to go to this remote camp deep into the woods with him. He marketed it as a fun paid getaway, but he was ready to taint your innocence.

You’re the exact person he would go for, and the one he’s been wanting to fuck. He wouldn’t dare to toss you aside like all the other women he’s been with. No, he wants you forever. You're his.

Being a camp counselor with your friend was hard. He had the hots for you, and that was pretty clear. Your best friend was named after the late famous singer Elvis Presley. His parents went absolutely crazy for the rock and roll musician, so much so that they named their son “Presley.” But he went by “Pres,” wanting nothing to do with the man he doesn’t even like.

Pres was a hot-headed and flirtatious nineteen-year-old who was only nice to you. He was a bit troubled and rough around the edges, smoking pot and drinking beer whenever he could. He got into a lot of fights, and most of them were because of you.

You were sweet, bubbly, and innocent. You had a tight, round ass that drove him wild, your hair always blowing in the wind, and your mini clothes accentuated your body perfectly. He bought you anything you wanted and did whatever you asked. Despite his tough exterior, he was a mushy, gushy guy on the inside.

He was your closest childhood friend, always coming to your house for years without a single break. Pres told you about the job, shoving the flyer in your face, and he raved about the opportunity. Money, sleeping in cabins, and taking care of kids—it all seemed pretty easy. It also meant he could have you all to himself for three whole months!

The day before the kids arrived for the summer, the counselors had one last meeting. You were able to check out the cabins, rest up for the night, and be well-rested for the morning. That was until your friend snuck out of his cabin and came to yours.

He tiptoed quietly, clinging to the shadows as he looked around to see if his supervisors were nearby. Slowly, he inched closer to your window. Your friend had told you to keep it unlocked, so he hoped you had listened. He let out a small grunt as he used his biceps to lift the window, which slid up smoothly.

“Oh would you look at that?” He muses, pushing his body though. He eyed you up and down, noticing how you were already in your pink silk nightgown. “Now that’s the prettiest sight I’ve ever seen.”

All of the boring and long hikes to see a couple of mountains meant nothing in comparison to this. Seeing you in your room with lit candles all around, your legs apart, and your supple breasts covered by thin fabric was captivating. His feet found footing on your carpet as he approached closer to your sleeping form. That night, he slept right by your side, not wanting to leave you for a single moment.

You both teetered on the line between just being friends and being lovers. He would try to convince you to make out with him. You were just his type: ditzy, pretty, and downright adorable. He could show you a good time if you let him. His hands would rest on your hips, lovingly rubbing your sides up and down, occasionally slipping lower to your ass.

Presley convinced the kids assigned to you to hang out with his group, all so he could pull you into the woods and put on a cute display. He showered you with little kisses on your neck, his deep, rumbling voice cooing swoon-worthy words, and his brown eyes held so much warmth and affection. It was enough to convince you to get down onto your knees, his cock already pulled out of his tan shorts.

You’re a hot babe. Even hotter with your lips around the head of his cock. It must've been your first time, or you were just struggling with his length. Pres guided your head up and down, and with a loud grunt he came inside your mouth. He would tell you that you did amazing, help you wipe your mouth clean, and he’ll return the favor.

He doesn't understand what personal space even means. Your bed was his, and his was always open for you and only you. Once he got his rowdy kids to settle down in their bunk beds, was the moment he had you trapped outside, his fingers soaking in your cunt. He had his hand around your mouth, his knee pushing your legs apart, and his fingers kept pressing against the spot that had your head spinning.

No matter what he does, you still think you guys are just friends. Even if that word does irk him, he'll use it to his advantage. Showering with him was something friends do, so you can’t really say no. Him helping you clean every crevice of your body was just him being nice. Him choosing specific outfits that he wants to see you in was only because he was a 'fashionista.' He barely gave you any time to argue back when he stuffed your body into the swimsuit in the dead of night.

Pres tried his hardest to woo you. On lake day, he would pull off his shirt, muscles on display, and jump into the water. When he came up to the surface, his hair glistening in the light and his body dripping wet, he would try to catch a fish—doing manly things to show off. If that didn’t work, he would walk inside with you to the grand hall, where he’d make friendship bracelets with you. You were happy to do simple things like that, and he’d even make flower crowns with you.

The yandere was a competitive and athletic man. He would win at all of the games—tug-of-war, rock climbing, and don’t even mention any sort of crossword puzzle near him. All of his winnings would go to you. The chocolate gold coins from See's Candies were yours, the tiny trophy he got for catching the most fish was in your hands before you could blink, and the whittled statue of a moose from capturing the prettiest pictures was promptly put into your bag.

He had his softer moments: carrying your suitcases for you and putting them into the shuttle when camp ended, wrapping his jacket around you when you shivered, and letting you have the window seat because you liked to sightsee. He would remember your favorite snacks (he forced himself to like the same things) and offer his arm to be used as your pillow during the drive.

Right when he thought the relationship had progressed into something more, with your head resting on his shoulder, you said the words he didn’t want to hear: "You're the greatest best friend I have ever had."

Ah, shit. Seriously?

“Mhm, yeah, yeah,” he said unenthusiastically with a slight eye roll, and he gently patted your head. “Just go to sleep.”

[kirislovelygf]

new haircut (sevika x fem! reader)

contents: you and sevika are married, takes place between acts 1-2 (season 2), you give sevika a haircut, found family trope with jinx & isha :(( fun family time :D

wrd count: 1.3k

⍣ ೋ

things have been crazy in the lanes for the past new months. i haven’t seen this many enforcers on our streets since.. actually i've never see this many.

ever since those noxians came and paid topside a visit, that kiraman girl had been on a serious power trip.

she became some kind of dictator down here and now she’s got her men flooding the streets. beating on people, putting up weord propoganda all over the city, arresting good men and women..

all in search for jinx. they're promising bullshit to anyone who turns over jinx to theauthorities but no one down here is dumb enough to do that.

sevika’s been trying to rally the undercity together for some kind of uprising but i’ve been helping jinx keep a low profile.

she’s never been good a laying low.

we’ve mostly spent these days playing in the hideout, taking naps all day, stuff like that. it’s more fun with her new little friend isha.

i’m not sure where she came from, but sevika told me she just.. fell from the sky basically. and just followed jinx around from then on.

the three of us were hanging out one night. i was playing around with my makeup on isha, who’s been begging me to use it on her.

“not too much, she’s still little.” jinx said as she was fixing a new gadget of hers at her desk.

“where you think she’s going? out to party? have some drinks? it’s just for fun.” i chuckled, raising my brush to isha’s eyes.

“close your eyes, sweetie.” i instructed. she did so with a cheeky smile. i smiled at her giddy fingers tapping the metal floor in excitement.

“we’re gonna do some glittery pink… it’ll look super pretty.” i told her.

as i continued, i heard the stomping of boots toward us.

i look over at sevika, home from another day of work.

“hi, vika.” i smiled.

“we doin’ makeovers?” she said jokingly as she walked over.

“yeah, she’s been crying for one for days.” i said. isha whines and hits my knee, making me laugh.

i look up at sevika staring at herself in the cracked mirror. she’s looking at the sides of her head and feeling the back of her head.

“what? realizing you woke up uglier than yesterday? i bet if your ask, she’ll give you your own makeover.” jinx giggled.

sevika stayed quiet before looking over at me.

“you think you can help me with something?” she asks.

“what is it?” i asked, looking for some lip gloss for isha.

“i’m not loving my hair.. it’s hard to tie it up with one arm.”

“what? i love your hair, vika. and i don’t mind doin’ it for you, i’ve said so already.” i said to her.

she chuckled. “it’s not just that. i’d like it better shorter.” she says, glancing at herself again.

jinx looks up and gasps. “can i cut it?”

“no.”

“you want it cut! you just said-“

“not by you.” she grumbled. jinx scoffs.

“i’m great tdoing hair. you think i sleep in these? every night..” she says, holding up one of her blue braids.

"and? you haven't cut your hair since you were a kid. that's literally baby hair-" sevika argued.

“it’s okay, i’ll help.. but i still think you should leave it as is.” i sighed.

“thanks. cause there’s no way i’m letting her near my head with scissors.” she said.

“no haircut is gonna make you look less like a grumpy troll under a bridge... just sayin.” jinx said before putting her goggles back on.

“hey. that’s my wife.” i snapped.

jinx mocks me before going back to fixing her gadget.

i put a bit of gloss in isha before i told her she was done and she jumped up to look at herself.

sevika laughed as isha tried jumping up to see her reflection but couldn’t reach.

she picked her up and set her on her leg so she could see herself. she smiled widely in admiration of herself.

i stand up. “okay.. now, where are the scissors?” i sighed out.

jinx giggled menacingly before going to a drawer and pulling out these sharp, deadly knives attached to each other.

isha gasps.

“oh hell no..” sevika grumbled.

“are you trying to behead her?” i laughed.

“they’re all i got.” jinx shrugged, holding them up with both hands.

i stare at her before she sighs, throwing the giant scissors aside and finding appropriately sized scissors in a drawer.

“thank you.” i said. i look at isha. “you gonna help me, kid?”

she shakes her head “no” and jumps down. i laughed softly before looking at sevika’s reflection.

i sighed out. “okay… are you sure?” i asked her.

“yeah.” she sighed out.

“hm..” i took out the hair tie from her hair and let her hair fall to the sides of her face.

“uh… okay.. jinx, come here, i don’t know shit about cutting hair.” i said.

“no!” sevika protested. i slapped her shoulder.

“stop being a baby! damn! i’m just gonna have her tell me what to do.”

sevika huffs in relief as jinx walks over to us.

“okay.. let’s see… what’s the vision? what’ll make you wanna fall in love with her all over again?” she asks me.

i shrugged. “i love her like this.” i patted my hand on her head. she looks at me with a bored face.

“okay nevermind, bitch. fuck you.” i snapped. she laughs.

jinx hums in thought. “okay.. i got it. we’re gonna go short in the back, long in the front. sound good?” she says.

“i don’t know.. are you sure?” sevika asked.

“yes, just trust me. jeez..” jinx grumbled. i laughed as sevika was getting visibly nervous.

jinx guided me to cut off sevika’s hair in a way that so that it doesn’t look like a chopped mess.

i cut off the last of hair before jinx found a razor to use.

“whoa, hey, im not tryin’ for no buzzcut.” she protested.

“it’s just for the sides, you crybaby.” jinx said. she puts it in my hand.

“i don’t know how you put up with her.” she says. i laughed. sevika grumbled.

“it was funny.” i snapped.

“anyway, just relax, baby. it doesn’t look that bad.” i said to her.

we lightly shaved the hair on her sides before i finally finished.

“okay.. let me see.” she turned to face us with her new look.

“see? not that bad. you look... less terrible.” jinx said.

“yeah, not that bad.” i nodded.

i was lying, i was so wet, holy shit. sevika looked so good with her new hair.

the bangs falling on her eyes, her neck looking clean, ugh i needed her:

she checks herself out in the mirror and isha gives her a thumbs up.

“it’s.. good. thanks.” she nodded.

i took a quick breath before looking at jinx.

“alright, well, we gotta get home.” i smiled.

“already? it’s like.. 7. you don’t usually get outta here till late.” jinx said, glancing at her junky clock on her desk.

“yeah, i’m not tryin’ to run into any enforcers talkin’ about some “curfew.” i'm a grown ass woman, i'll go home when i want." i chuckled, lying about my intentions.

she scoffs. “i get it. see ya.” she waved at us as isha did the same, but more enthusiastically.

she signs “thank you for the makeup.” and i sign back “you’re welcome.” before waving to her.

i took sevika’s hand and dragged her out of the hideout.

“you’re in a rush.” she laughed as we walked onto the street.

i pushed her into an alley and pulled her neck down to kiss her. she kissed me back in surprise but leaned into it when my hands slid up her neck and into her freshly shaven hair.

“i’m so sorry i said anything before about not cutting it. you look so fucking good-“

“yeah?”

before she continued, i kissed her again, this time, she laughed softly against my lips.

i couldn’t stop staring at her the whole way home. we’ve been married for like two years and i feel like i’m crushing on her all over again.

i spent the night our my room letting her know just how good i thought she looked.

⍣ ೋ

a/n: her bob in s2 is so RARARGDHJBGIDWODHNPIDOBUO

[cybergoth1]

beyond the cowl | prologue | batfamily x isekaide!reader

masterlist | chapter 01.

summary: you're just a normal twenty-one-year old girl trying to navigate life with a shitty job and a useless degree. life isn't easy, and between expensive therapy sessions and the constant feeling of failure, you suddenly wake up in a body that wasn't yours, with a past that wasn't yours. now, in another dimension, you're dealing with the fact that you're a crucial part of the caped crusade that shaped bruce wayne's life. you're the second robin, the former girl wonder, and the vigilant gotham needed so much.

warnings/tags: swearing. reader being emotionally immature bc we love toxic women. no beta we die like jason todd. reader really needs her lexapro. alfred being a sweetheart in the end (pls lets pretend bane never killed him).

Sometimes you felt like they had lied to you. Straight to your face. Your friends, your family and your professors. 

They all made you believe that something important was out there, just waiting for you. They patted your back while you poured out your insecurities like the self-doubting idiot you are, and with the most convincing tone, told you that the world was your oyster. That opportunities are everywhere.

They said you shouldn't be that worried about getting a job. You still have plenty of time after graduating. Right? 

Right.

Their nice words turned out to be useless the moment you stepped out of college. Your dreams and expectations were shattered during your first month sending out resumes to every single company and agency you could find. And then, before you knew it, eight months had passed without you landing a decent job. The endless rejection emails and mounting bills started to make you lose sleep as you spent countless nights tossing and turning in your single bed.

That’s why you ended up here, one year later, in a café downtown, learning the difference between a flat white and a cappuccino for a living.

You wiped down the counter for the sixth time in the past half hour, keeping an eye out for any trace of coffee left by the last customer when he spilled it all over your hands and apron. The feeling of the cloth under your fingers was the only thing grounding you as your thoughts began to spiral for the third time that day. You couldn’t even hear the annoying hiss of the espresso machine or your manager's high-pitched voice nagging at you about some shit you didn't care about.

You only lifted your head when a customer called you by your name. It was the same high school kid who always ordered a caramel macchiato. Mia or something. Your mind wandered as you pulled a shot of espresso for the new order.

You shouldn’t be here.

You shouldn't be pretending your lifetime dreams were nothing. You shouldn’t be pretending that you feel fulfilled cleaning counters and serving people who barely looked up at your face while you handed them their orders.

You heard Mia asking for extra vanilla syrup.

Shit, that was so unfair to you. You did everything right; every single thing they told you to do. You checked all the boxes.

You got a degree, unlike half of your family, who barely finished high school. You didn’t get knocked up at sixteen, unlike your mom and older sister, and you didn’t get addicted to fucking alcohol, unlike your dad. So why are you still living like this — paycheck to paycheck, unable to afford dental care, healthcare, or even the most basic stuff like a new pair of shoes.

Deep down, you know why.

Poverty is an eternal, miserable, and unbreakable cycle — you were just naïve enough to think you could overcome it with simple actions. You kept your eyes fixed on the tall iced latte in your hand while zoning out. Yeah, time for another therapy session.

“Here you go” you tried to smile while handing her the cup. Hiding your growing anxiety and negative thoughts behind your customer service voice was a skill you were slowly, but surely, building up. But you probably looked weird as fuck since she gave you an awkward smile while muttering a "thanks".

"I still don’t know how you got this job. You look like a psychopath," you heard Nate, your coworker, from behind you, holding an empty milk pitcher.

He would be a nice, solid dude if he didn't act like a middle school bully most of the time.

"Yeah?" you rolled your eyes, finally turning your body to look at him. Damn, he really needed to shave his sideburns; he looked ridiculous. "Want me to tell you what you look like?"

His red hair and weird face made him look like a distressed orangutan. A very ugly orangutan.

He just smirked at your sarcastic tone. Fucking cunt.

"Nah, I'm good".

As the rest of the shift slowly passed, you kept checking your phone over and over, waiting for that email from the agency you applied to two weeks ago. You got nothing, as usual. Nothing besides a text from your sister asking for forty dollars; she probably ran out of baby formula again.

With a loud sigh, you decided to scroll through Instagram while Nate flirted with some customers. You quickly noticed that your college friend Christine had just been promoted again. She had been working at her father's company since her sophomore year, and her longtime boyfriend, Tom, had proposed to her in front of the Eiffel Tower.

Uh, wow, that's nice—good for her.

"Congrats, babe! Oh my god, he's so lucky to have you in his life. And good luck at your new job," you send her a quick DM, like a good friend would.

And you are, objectively, a good friend. You're even congratulating her on her promotion as if she weren't a spoiled, airheaded bitch who never accomplished anything on her own. Christine had everything handed to her on a silver platter; her parents got her an amazing job at their company, then paid for her boob job, her nose job, her new car, and her apartment—the list goes on.

You watched the couple showing off the engagement ring under the Parisian sunset and felt like the most self-absorbed cunt on Earth. At this point, you're used to feeling like that, at least twice a day. You spent the rest of your shift watching her stories over and over until it was time to close.

“I’m heading out,” you said to Nate as you finally grabbed your stuff from the break room. The city felt colder than usual that time of year; you could feel your lips getting chapped every time you stepped outside, so you quickly wrapped your old yellow scarf around your neck while zipping up your jacket. The café was already empty; the other employees had left fifteen minutes earlier, leaving just the two of you to close up.

Nate barely looked at you when you said goodbye to him.

You didn't care.

During your walk to the bus stop, you looked around the dark street pretending you’re not totally shitting yourself under the dim streetlights—holding your purse tightly against your frame, like you're about to be mugged by the thin air.

In those moments of raw vulnerability and panic, the whole idea of vigilantism seemed pretty cool. People in latex or spandex you don't actually know, jumping off buildings and beating up bad guys, defending the working class and pretty girls in distress. That's pretty neat, uh?

And very unrealistic.

Once inside the bus and comfortably seated, you let your thoughts wander again. You didn't know what you were doing with your life anymore. You never did, in fact.

The beauty of the night, the cold air coming from the bus's open windows, and the lights of the buildings dancing against the dark sky managed to soothe some of your pain for a few minutes. Your legs ached after hours of standing behind the counter, you felt burns on your hands, and your feet were uncomfortably squeezed into shoes that were a size too small.

Gradually, you fell asleep leaning against the bus seat, thinking about a nice pair of shoes you saw in the mall three days ago.

The first thing you noticed while slowly waking up was how comfortable you felt. The fabric beneath your body was as soft as silk, and the scent of fresh lavender emanating from it indicated that it had been recently washed—fuck, what is this? Heaven? You whined, shoving your whole face against it and breathing in.

Yeah, that’s definitely lavender—

Wait.

Public transportation didn’t smell like lavender, last time you checked. Your whole body went rigid as a cold shiver ran down your spine.

You immediately opened your eyes.

Fuck, fuck. What the fuck is happening?

You weren't on a bus anymore, that's for sure. Jesus, where's your purse?

“Fuck!” you almost screamed in pure panic as a painful sensation spread between your ribs and stomach, burning so much it seemed to take your breath away as you tried to sit up.

You were on a bed. A king-size bed. Sitting on silk sheets.

“Oh my god, someone kidnapped me—”

You looked around the bedroom as tears immediately filled your wide eyes. Your heart raced, and your hands trembled as you tried to make sense of the unfamiliar place you had woken up in.

The growing panic and fear for your life were so overwhelming that you couldn’t even notice the beautiful, very personal decor around the room or the several photos on the walls and desk, showing your face next to people you had never seen in your entire life.

"Oh, miss, thank God you're awake" a gentle voice said — is that a british accent? — close to the bedroom's door.

That's it, you're going to be killed by a weird, rich old man, and he's going to sell your organs on the black market.

Oh God, you quietly sobbed, you've always slept on the bus on your way back home, and you've never had any problems before—

Through the tears that blurred your vision, you could finally make out the figure of a tall man slowly approaching your bed. He was holding a cup of tea and a plate with what looked like a sandwich.

A cucumber sandwich.

"It seems like you may have hit your head quite hard. And your ribs," he said, handing you the cup and placing the plate on the bedside table. The man sighed loudly. "Master Damian really needs to contain his enthusiasm during sparring sessions."

The cup shook in your left hand as you looked at him with tearful eyes. He politely pretended not to notice your desperate state or the tears in the corners of your eyes as he walked back to the door.

"Hey, Alfie, have you seen my white socks?" another voice called out, this time from the hall.

"They're still on your bedroom drawers, Master Dick."

"Oh, right, sorry."

Wait, that was Batman's butler or—

Your vision faded to black as you collapsed back onto the silk sheets.

tag-list: @rosescarlettx, @btsloveer07-blog, @rainbowstar, @xingyunny, @mikyapixie, @sheep-from-rad, @fandomly-obsessed, @migilore, @natsukicookies, @candlewitch-cryptic, @socialmess-jery, @mona1704, @dieforcoffee26, @stupouid, @astrelz, @dind1n, @cxcilla, @mimi-sanisanidiot, @ceridwyn3, @sunako50

[artyandink]

lipstick, baby

Summary: Dean liked to indulge as a demon. On food, pie, women. To him, it’d just be him seducing every single girl that came by with a wink and a flash of his pretty smile, then they’d practically be spreading their legs for him. Then there’s you. There was something about you, that had him coming to you instead of you to him. He wasn’t really complaining.

TW: Drinking, Demon!Dean objectifying women but also being hot at the same time, badass reader, smut, mention of Sam, Crowley being a wingman, reader has a bone to pick with Heaven, reader’s a former hunter

STW: Riding, thigh slapping, ass slapping, tit slapping, whiskey play, temperature play if you squint, really filthy stuff, dirty talk, unprotected sex (do not try at home unless you are married and want kids), switch!Dean, switch!reader, marking (except Dean’s is marking with lipstick), uhh- mentioned dacryphilia?, degradation on both sides (use of slut, pussyslut), face sitting, fingering, slight exhibitionism?, praise kink if you squint, oral sex (m + f receiving)

Song Inspo: Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande

Whiskey every day really was the fine life, Dean mused as he finished his fifth glass of whiskey in the fifth bar he’d hit in three months.

Sam, of course, had been on the lookout for his location, but he never stayed in the same place for very long, which made him harder to find. It was fun, of course. Sex with women night after night, hearing them scream for him as he broke Crowley’s bed with no regrets. Anything to satisfy his high sex drive. Then he’d move onto a new one, and see them struggle to walk the next day. They’d shoot him a sultry, almost inviting look for him to fuck their legs out (they didn’t have much brains, so legs were the next best option), but he didn’t care. It was always a one use for him, not much more than that.

The bartender, a sweet piece of eye candy with long brunette hair, creamy mocha skin and a smile that told him all he wanted him to do to her, passed him a new glass with three fingers of whiskey, her fingers brushing his with promise of her getting on her knees and using her fingers and mouth on his cock.

Too bad, cause she did that a few days ago on her break, right before he blew her legs out.

The clearing of Crowley’s throat snapped him out of his inner monologue, having Dean glancing towards him on his right side. “Courtesy of the lady across the bar.” The former drawled, nodding across the bar counter.

Dean rolled his eyes, scoffing lightly and looking across the counter- god-holy-damn.

Your hair, your eyes, your lips. Those pretty things stretched into a smirk that could only be sultry as you nursed a whiskey, your scarlet lipstick leaving a print on the rim like the one he had on his napkin. It instantly sent thoughts of those prints on his chest and abs through his mind. Over his anti-possession tattoo. On his cock.

Dean wordlessly stood up, making his way slowly over to you. He took notice of everything. The corset bra underneath the red plaid that was left open. Ripped jeans that clearly had garters visible and the beginnings of sexy nylons visible.

Oh, he approved. He definitely approved.

“And who might you be, sweet thing?” Dean asked, voice low and panty-dropping and rough. He leaned his side against the counter, his eyes taking their sweet time in analysing every dip and curve of your body and imagining his hands on them. His own body burning as if your hands were already on him. Damn, that ring on your middle finger would feel so good.

“Said it on the napkin.” You replied, and then he nodded, checking it again. Ah, now he saw.

Dean offered you a smirk that was enough to make any other lady’s legs open wide, but yours didn’t. You just offered one back. “Pretty name.”

“Will I ever know yours, or will you remain the handsome, mysterious stranger who comes here every night?” Paired with a chuckle and a slow sip of whiskey right over the previous red print you’d left on the rim. Damn, you were good. Just the sound of your voice was enough to have him twitching in his jeans.

“Dean Winchester.” He drawled, his tongue tracing his teeth, hoping to sink them into your skin and mark you. A bit of a detriment to the enticing visual was the obvious mark of being a hunter. Dean could tell one of his former own. There was a silver knife in your boot. “And you’re a hunter, sweetheart. Here to kill me?”

The question had a scoff coming from your mouth. “Hunter? Baby, no, you got me all wrong. I’m not a hunter, especially after the dicks who call themselves angels have been makin’ good America into a clusterfuck. I doubt I’m gonna be happy with ‘em. This knife ain’t for you.”

The statement had a grin spreading on Dean’s face. You hated heaven, he liked that. You spoke your mind, he liked that. Your words rolled off your tongue, he liked that. He liked you. “Got a bone to pick with heaven, darlin’?”

“Less a bone, more an eyeball, but call it what you want.” You shot back with a sip of whiskey. Yeah, you were really good.

Dean’s hand found your hip, gripping it, his thumb pressing into your skin. “Can I call you what I want, baby girl?”

“You’re already doin’ that, Dean, I doubt there’s much more ground to cover where that’s concerned.”

“Damn straight.” He grinned, getting closer and closer. He felt your hand on his bicep, gripping firmly. Your hand on his shoulder, creeping up to thread your fingers in his hair. It all felt so… dizzying. “Tell me, what’s a fine piece like you doing in a bar like this?”

“Just passing through, seeing the sights.” Oh, dear Lord, now he could feel your breath on his. Dean was used to having control as a demon. “And now… I got another one on my list.” This time, it was like there was a rope and you were holding the other end of control instead of him holding both ends. Cause right now, all he could think about was how your thigh pressed in between his legs, grinding firmly against the bulge made by his rapidly-hardening cock.

The friction had a low groan rolling off his tongue, but it was sealed from the others in the room by your sweet, dizzying lips, your hand on his bicep sliding to his upper back and pressing him closer. By base, pure instinct, his hand on your hip pulled you closer, movements slow, calculating as you both shared your whiskey palette with every searing kiss.

Dean could take in your scent from the proximity. Earthy spices. Sharp perfume. The distinct musk of whiskey. All enough to make a normal man’s head spin. Made him want to add the sweet taste of your pussy to the menu.

And all at once, all too quickly, your lips left his, but burned a trail from his jaw to tease his earlobe with your teeth. “How about we ditch the party and go somewhere more comfy?” You murmured, your nails raking over the fabric of his shirt, over his chest. “Place is kinda dead anyway, and you seem like all kinds’a fun.”

“Mm.” He hummed in agreement, fumbling with his wallet and slapping a random amount of bills on the counter. “I’ve got a place.” Humming again, he grabbed a handful of your ass, rolling it before slapping it firmly. “Let’s go, darlin’. Now.”

“Fuck.” You stumbled back through the door to Crowley’s room, Dean’s lips attached to yours like you were his last dying breath. The room itself was a grand one, with a queen size, pieces of lux furniture and two beside tables, one of which having a bottle of whiskey on it.

One of his hands was tangled in your hair while the other was, like before, groping your ass, harsh breaths coming in bursts against your mouth. His scent of whiskey, beer and old leather mixed with yours, a cocktail of dizziness and heat and pure sex.

Dean was too preoccupied with the way your scarlet lips fell, smearing onto his own and then his skin, as you’d abandoned his lips to start laying your claim on his neck. And he wasn’t sure when his flannel and undershirt made it to the floor, but it did, and now he was bare chested and sporting red lipstick marks all over his chest, and the numbers were climbing.

He groaned, his hand tangling in your hair, reminded of his old self (however much he didn’t want to be, but now he wasn’t really complaining), his love then of being dominated by a woman and damn, was he enjoying it now.

Perhaps because it was you who was dominating in this moment.

Doesn’t mean he wasn’t going to revert back to his preferences.

Dean tugged your hair, baring your neck to him and allowing him to attach his lips to your neck, unclipping that godforsaken corset bra with a hum, finding your bare tits. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.” He murmured, reaching a hand up to roughly grope one of them, his mouth descending to one nipple and letting his mouth envelop it, sucking harshly and flicking his tongue over it, his index finger and thumb toying with the other in tandem with his tongue, pulling or pinching with each suck.

“Shit-” Your hand flew to his hair, arching into his touch with a low moan and a couple more expletives. The feeling was electrifying— cause damn, did this man know what he was doing. He switched his attentions, swirling his tongue around your other nipple before sucking over and over and over, wanting to draw as many sounds from you as possible-

Wait, why was he sucking on air suddenly?

Dean looked down to see you on your knees, undoing his belt buckle with a surprising amount of efficiency and popping the button on his jeans, pulling down the fly. They pooled my his feet, and he kicked them and his boxers off- holy shit.

You’d taken Dean’s cock into your mouth, the whole expanse, swirling your tongue like he did on your nipple and taking the whole length of him, right until he hit the back of your throat, relaxing your throat to avoid your gag reflex from kicking up.

Dean’s fingers twisted in your hair, a strangled groan leaving his mouth as his hips bucked into your mouth. “So good, baby girl.” He choked out, gritting his teeth. “So good with those pretty lips around my cock- son of a bitch.” As expected, the lipstick not transferred to his mouth and chest was now on his skin, and he didn’t mind one bit.

You pulled almost all the way off to suckle at his tip, a motion that had him jerking once and then twice once you took him back into your mouth with hollowed out cheeks.

“Keep that pussy wet for me, darlin’.” Dean grunted, his head tipping back. “Keep it as wet as that beautiful mouth.” And you obliged, your hand moving to undo your jeans’ fastenings, slip past rub and toy with your clit, your pussy already damp from his ministrations on you.

Your hand gripped his thigh, and with a few well-timed swirls of your mouth and assistance from your hand, he was spilling into your mouth with a drawn out moan of your name. It was like white hot sparks went through his system, but he recovered quickly, pulling you off his cock once you’d swallowed every last damn drop.

With a well-practiced move, he hoisted you to your feet and threw you over his shoulder, striding across the small distance between your previous position and the bed with a firm smack to your ass, throwing you down onto the bed. He licked his lips at the sight of you like that, practically collapsing down on top of you to press a searing kiss on a freckle that resided just above your belly button, yanking down your jeans in the progress as he then went on a mission to mark up the majority of your torso with his teeth.

Once he was done, he took a moment to admire the sexy constellation before stealing a kiss from you. Dean’s eyes landed on your garters and the skimpy little nylons you were sporting under the jeans, as well as the now ruined black lace panties that matched the corset bra he’d unclipped earlier. A grown bubbled up in his throat, followed by a gravelly chuckle.

“You really know how to get the attention of a guy like me, huh, sweet thing?” He murmured, sweeping a hand over his mouth and biting his lip, taking a moment to really appreciate the visual.

“I take more pride in what comes after.” You gave him a sexy smirk that had his cock throbbing. “It’s one thing to get attention, but I take more pride in keeping it.”

That got him nodding. “You sure can keep it, baby.” He worked off the garters and nylons, chucking them aside and hooking a finger into the hem of your panties. “Attached?”

“Do I look like I’m sewn to them?” A wink from you. Damn, he was hooked. Line and sinker.

“Touché.” He flicked his wrist, which tore the panties until they were beyond repair, dropping them somewhere else. His eyes locked on your soaked pussy, and fuck-shit-crap was it the most pretty thing he’d ever seen.

Within seconds, Dean had your legs over his shoulders, slapping your thighs and kneading them, using the grip on them to spread you open and run his tongue up your dripping cunt. The moment he got his taste, of the sweet, sweet ambrosia, something switched and he really began to work.

He felt your fingers thread in his hair again, your palm pressing him closer to you, and was he complaining? No. He could make a damn home right here. Right here, at your pretty fuckin’ pussy.

He’d fuck that pussy raw.

“F-Fuck, Dean!” You gasped, your thighs closing around his head, but he didn’t mind, lapping at you before licking up to your clit so he could suck at it. His fingers joined the party, slipping one in, then add one with no resistance whatsoever, with had him groaning against you and sending vibrations through your body that felt rather like electricity. Blinding electricity.

“That’s right, pretty thing.” He growled against your cunt, crooking his fingers before sucking on your clit again. “Show me how goddamn needy you are.”

You found yourself barrelling to the edge quicker than any other man had ever possible managed, and damn, did it feel good. Too good.

“Gonna-” You had to cut yourself off to gasp and let your eyes roll back when Dean curled his fingers and hit your g-spot, “gonna come-”

“Come for me, baby.” Dean encouraged, slapping your thigh firmly, kneading the flesh. To get you there, he traced his name out on your clit before sucking, which had you coming on his fingers and tongue, maximum voltage sparking your veins and hanging stars in front of your rolled eyes.

You felt Dean’s tongue lapping up everything you had to offer, all your come and he didn’t waste a drop. He sucked your arousal off his two fingers, licking his glistening lips and collecting the copious residue off his chin with his thumb, sucking that into his mouth with a look that could only be described as pure porn.

The sight of him - mussed up hair, naked, lips smeared with red, the same to his neck, chest and cock - was pure porn.

“More.” Was the only thing he said (growled, more like), and he flipped you over, practically manhandling you until you were kneeling on the bed. Straddling his face.

His hands took your hips and yanked you down, and he instantly licked a long stripe up your pussy, your hand flying to grip the headboard as you ground down onto his face, obscene sounds leaving your mouth but you didn’t care, really. All you cared about was the god of a man making you fall apart in record goddamn time with just his mouth.

Dean grabbed handfuls of your ass, slapping the softness and groaning into your cunt. This was honestly where his element was. Not hunting, not demonhood, no. He belonged with his tongue on your pussy.

His hands reached up to grope your tits, kitten-licking at your clit while his fingers tweaked your nipples, adding a dual level of stimulation that made you rock your hips faster.

Dean’s left hand reached down, swiping two fingers through your soaked pussy and lifted those to your mouth, and he chuckled. “Suck, sweet thing.” You took those fingers into your mouth, tasting yourself and feeling those two fingers that had previously worked magic on you in your mouth. The calloused pads pressing on your tongue. “That’s it. Such a slut for my mouth, huh?”

“Could call you a pussyslut then, hm, Dean?” You panted amid moans, running a hand through your sweaty hair. “Can’t get enough of it, can you?”

“Well played.” He growled, working faster, determined to get you over the edge. A few more licks, a couple more strokes and Dean did just that, his name rolling deliciously off your tongue as you came on his tongue for the second time. He drank all that up too, like a parched man in the Sahara.

Dean was normal used to sensitive, pliable women at this stage, but no, you shifted back and shoved him down when he was about to get up, making him fall back with a soft grunt, his head pressing into the pillows.

His hands gripped your hip and thigh by instinct, the pads of his fingers digging into your skin when you lifted yourself, sinking down onto his cock and taking all of him in one.

All of you was an expert at this.

“Fuck.” Both of you moaned in unison, his hands tightening on your hips while your nails raked down his chest, leaving red trails that instantly cleared up.

You couldn’t help but whimper, your hand gripping the your hair as you adjusted to how goddamn big he was. Out of all cocks you’d taken in your life, Dean fuckin’ Winchester took the cake. “So good.” You muttered absentmindedly, already feeling your pussy clenching and him buried all the way inside you, reaching places you didn’t know you had.

“Shit, sweet thing, you’re so tight.” Dean groaned out, and his hand left your hip to grab the bottle of whiskey, popping off the stopper with his thumb and chuckling. When he saw you not moving, he slapped your tit, hard, but somehow extremely sexy. “Move. Now.”

Now, had that been anyone else, you’d have tied their wrists to the headboard and edged them until they cried. But with Dean Winchester, well, you could risk relinquishing control for a second, or five.

You began moving- up and down, up and down at a dizzying pace, one that had your thoughts clouding as the side of his cock brushed against your g-spot. “Oh, fuck, baby.” You moaned, your mouth falling open. What was it with this man?

Dean took a sip of whiskey from the bottle, swallowing it and grunting roughly. “That’s it, pretty thing. Ride my cock. Bounce on it, attagirl. That’s a good girl.” You let out a whine in response, and an even louder one tumbling from your parted lips when you felt the cold sting of strong whiskey drip down from your chin, to your neck, over your tits and further down, poured by Dean from the bottle of whiskey that was then returned to its place on the bedside table.

He leaned forward, lapping up the whiskey from where he could reach, guiding your movements while his tongue flattened against your skin and licked stripes over your neck, your nipples, the swell of your tits and the valley between them.

“Y’look so good on me.” Dean growled, using his now purchase on your hips to bring you harder down onto his cock, watching it disappear into your pussy with gritted teeth. One hand left your hip, thumb finding your clit and once again tracing his name before moving into fast yet calculated, perfect circles, his lips adding to it by sucking more and more marks onto the skin of your neck and chest. Making sure you couldn’t cover them, not easily, at least.

“Y’look so good under me.” You shot back after a series of moans and whimpers and loud expletives, and he laughed deep and rough, hand finding the back of your head and bringing your lips against his, parting them, letting his teeth graze and tug at your bottom lip. His hand smoothed over the curve of your ass, gripping it for the nth time that night. Then, before he knew it, your pussy had clamped down on him like a vice, and you were over the edge, coming with a rolling of your eyes back into your head.

Dean gripped your chin, bringing you to look at him with hazy eyes as his name was ripped from your lungs, crying out and rendering you breathless as he then worked you down from the high, chasing his own by thrusting up into you.

Works two ways. You get to come down and he gets to come. Fair deal.

And the deal was fulfilled on both ends, cause while you had come down from your high with a delicious ache and/or satisfaction in your pussy, courtesy of Dean, he’d also got to come, spilling into you.

Thank God you took Plan B, even though it’s not 100 percent effective.

You lifted yourself off of him, rolling onto your back beside him as you both caught your breath. You’d sort of had an out of body experience, being treated to three intensely mind-blowing orgasms. And you’d always been the one to dominate. Not today, since a demon unexpectedly called Dean Winchester had proven you wrong with his gravelly voice and rough nature.

Damn, if you were a hunter, you’d be missing out on this religious experience.

“I’m assuming you’re the type to do a lady then go.” You breathed, running a hand through your sweaty hair while both of you adjusted the blankets on you at the exact same time.

“I don’t think that applies this time, princess.” Dean smirked, looking you over with an impressed undertone and an obvious blazing heat in his gaze. “Nah, definitely not this time. I’m keepin’ you, for a very long time.” He chuckled, biting his lip. “If you’ll allow me to keep you, darlin’.”

“Keep me, maybe not.” You winked, but then grinned. “But I’m definitely stayin’. Can’t just do you once and then leave it right there, can I?”

“Damn straight.” He chuckled, then rolled onto his side, cupping your cheek and thumbing your bottom lip. “Cause I’m still wonderin’ what else you can do with that pretty mouth of yours.”

©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

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[dollfacefantasy]

TELL ME WHEN YOU HEAR MY HEART STOP ♡

pairing: naoya zen'in x fem!reader

summary: today's a very special day for you and naoya, and he plans to celebrate it with a very special gift.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, dubcon, kidnapping/captivity, drugging, stockholm syndrome, p in v, fingering, breeding kink, puppy play, misogyny, mentions of spanking, corporal punishment, and psychological torture stuff

a/n: birthday gift for my sweet wonderful friend who i love so very much @nexysworld <3 also!! imagine naoya as a few years older than his canon age for the timeline in this story to work.

“Naoya taking a wife… I never thought I’d see the day.”

The sound of Jinichi’s voice speaking his name drew Naoya’s attention to the two men walking several feet ahead of him on the stone path. His golden eyes flitted from the blue sky above to the pair of them, narrowing as he focused on hearing the next part of the conversation.

“It’s not that shocking,” Ogi replied, “He’s the future head of the clan. There’s no way Naobito would let him fail to produce an heir. Even if the old man had to find some bitch to pay off, the kid was always going to get married.”

“That’s true, but don’t you find it the least bit odd? Seeing him at events with some girl on his arm now? Before, he could never shut up about how the women shouldn’t even be allowed at those things. To be honest with you, I always thought he swung the other way,” Jinichi added.

“Well, yeah. But look at her. If he was ever gonna wed a woman, it was gonna be one like her. Quiet as a mouse. Moves through rooms like a scrap of silk in the wind. Doesn’t go anywhere without him,” Ogi reasoned.

“I don’t think that’s her choice,” the other man quipped.

Ogi shrugged. “Maybe not, but she goes along with it. I only wonder if she’s always been so naturally obedient or if the kid beat it into her.”

Gritting his teeth, Naoya had enough of listening to this. He sped up to catch his relatives. Once within arm’s length, he laid a hand upon Jinichi’s shoulder and pulled him around. His lips curled into a sneer upon making eye contact.

The sudden tug shocked the older Zen’in, his brows raising and lips pausing around the word they had been forming. Ogi followed his direction and came to face the future head of the clan as well. The three of them stood there for a moment. Naoya let them have a few seconds to register that he’d heard their conversation.

“I’ve never thought of either of you as intelligent, but I thought you smarter than thinking it was acceptable to disparage your future clan leader out in the open like this,” he said.

“Our words weren’t intended to be negative, Naoya. We didn’t mean to upset you,” Jinichi started.

“Because you didn’t think I would hear,” he shot back.

From the looks on the two faces in front of him, it was clear the men weren’t afraid of Naoya. That irritated him of course. He wanted all of them to fear him, to feel that if they so much as put him in a bad mood, they would suffer. But the emotion he did see on their features satisfied him enough to prevent that from being a pressing issue.

The gleam in both Jinichi and Ogi’s eyes told him they respected his rank. They may hate him and believe him to be nothing more than Naobito’s spoiled-rotten son, but they accepted the fact that there was nothing they could do about it. And he almost liked that more.

“But really? The implication that I have to lay hands on my betrothed to receive her submission wasn’t meant to be an insult?” he mocked, “The idea that my father would have to pay some woman to be my wife wasn’t said to demean me? I don’t believe that for a second.”

“They were just jokes,” Ogi defended, “How you deal with your woman is your business.”

“Oh, I know it is. How I discipline her is of no concern to you, but do you really think I would have chosen someone so unruly to spend my life with?” he questioned.

“It’s just that you have such high standards-” Jinichi stated.

“I do have high standards. And she meets every single one,” Naoya cut him off, “You two don’t have to explain any further. I’ve already decided to forgive you because I know the root of all of this is jealousy. Ogi, I can tell you wish there was some way you could trade in your wife for mine. Someone young and fresh. Eager and passionate. Not dried up and drained of any personality from more than a decade of dealing with you.

“And Jinichi. Have you ever even been with a girl? I’m sure if my wife took the time to so much as smile at you, she’d have you trailing her like a drooling dog. So please, spare me your judgements about her being ‘quiet’ or shy or whatever you think. There simply isn’t much to say when the company is made up of people like you two,” he finished.

The both of them blinked at Naoya in return, unsure of what to say in response to the scathing words. Arguing would probably cause a blow up that would draw the attention of Naobito, but cowering would inflate the young man’s already super-sized ego. Luckily for them, Naoya continued speaking before they had to make a decision.

“Either way, it’s all water under the bridge. I know you two won’t make this mistake again,” he smiled, “But in case you need the reminder, don’t ever utter the word ‘bitch’ in a discussion about my wife. And if I hear you calling me kid again, you’ll find yourself feeling sorely out of place when I take mine as head of this clan.”

This time Naoya didn’t bother waiting for a potential reply before pushing through them and continuing his walk. The pathway fell into serene silence now that it wasn’t polluted by their annoying chatter. Birds chirped in the trees above while a gentle Spring breeze rustled the hedges on either side of him.

He let out a soft sigh as he turned a corner as his shared suite came into view in the distance. Never did Naoya think he’d see the day where he defended a woman so valiantly. Though that was the crux of why he did it he supposed. You weren’t just some woman. You were his. His bride-to-be, his beloved, his special girl. The only person of the female persuasion he’d let walk one pace behind him instead of three.

God, it was ridiculous. Even thinking of you now made his heart race. He envisioned your sweet, sparkling eyes. Your cute lips that tasted like the richest wine in the world. That luscious body below that gave him wet dreams like he was a horny teenager.

He sighed, longing for you even though he’d be in your presence in a matter of seconds. No matter how often he saw you, it seemed it was never enough. If he could, he’d blow off all his duties around here and stay with you for the entire day.

Opening the miniature gates to his suite, he walked across the paved path to a small wooden staircase. He headed up the three steps and finally reached the doorway that would lead to you.

Upon entering his home, he slipped off his shoes and took a glance in the nearby mirror to make sure his hair was in place. On the thin end table against the wall was a pile of wedding invitations. The sight of them brought a smirk to his lips. Save the date! Mr. and Mrs. Zen’in would like to invite you… scrawled in elegant calligraphy and bordered in gold trim.

“Sweetheart, I’m home,” he called through the house.

He waited a few seconds for the sound of you rushing towards him. That phrase served the same purpose as a whistle to a trained hound. He’d taught you well over the last year. Everyday when he said those words, he could count on you to come to him, to ask about his day, and check on what he needed.

Only today, he didn’t hear the pitter-patter of your footsteps.

His eyebrow raised. In an instant, his body tensed, his lips set into a scowl. He tried telling himself you could be temporarily occupied. Maybe you were taking a bath or had fallen asleep for an afternoon nap. You could just be watching tv or listening to some music that muffled the sound of his voice.

He knew it was probably one of those, but his mind couldn’t help going to the worst place. That you had escaped.

His fist clenched by his sides. He bit the inside of his cheek. Walking further into your shared home, his eyes glanced around to look for any immediate signs of your departure. So far there was nothing. All the furniture was in place, no windows had been left ajar, one of your jackets draped across the back of an armchair.

She knows better now, he thought to himself. Last time you’d tried leaving two months ago, he had hoped it would be the last time. He’d caught you tumbling from the bedroom window while coming home to fetch a paper he’d forgotten. If he found out you’d pulled the vanishing act again today, he’d make the fury he’d felt in that moment seem like minor irritation.

When you tried leaving out the window, the two of you had locked eyes as you clambered off the ground. It would have been kind of cute if he wasn’t so pissed, the way he could see the realization in your eyes that you had majorly fucked up. You tried running, but Naoya was fast. He had you by the back of the neck in seconds, his nails digging into your tender skin.

“My little puppy felt like exploring outside her crate, hm?” he’d asked with barely constrained rage, “You know you’re supposed to ask for permission to do that. You’re not allowed to wander on your own yet.”

Naoya always ended his rules in yet even though he wasn’t sure if he actually planned on ever giving you the freedoms he currently forbade. A small part of him believed that the false hope would inspire your obedience better than direct punishments would. Not that it stopped him from giving you regular punishment though. That day he dragged you back into the house and spanked you till your ass was raw. You wouldn’t have been able to run for a light jog after that. It left you crying for nearly a whole day, so he had hoped it would have been a lasting lesson.

He continued to prowl through the house like a fox hunting its prey. Gliding into the kitchen, he again saw nothing out of the ordinary. You even had the oven on. He wanted that to be enough to put him at ease, but he couldn’t let himself relax. You might have left it on intending to burn the house down.

From there he slipped into the hall. You weren’t in any of the rooms off that walkway, so he headed for the stairs. He moved up them in silence. If you were still here, he didn’t want you to know his exact location. Paranoia had fully taken root. It wasn’t just escape that worried him now. Maybe you had figured out that never worked. You could have graduated to planning an attack. That wouldn’t work either, but he wouldn’t put it past you. For all the times you’d wailed about wanting to kill him, he didn’t believe logic factored into these little rebellions.

God, what if you had found the propofol in his nightstand. He kept it unlabeled, but you’d probably recognize that milky liquid by now. You could have found the syringes in his sock drawer too while doing the laundry.

Shit. Shit. Shit. You could be waiting, tucked behind a corner, ready to jab him in the throat like he’d done to you a year ago. In his defense though, you actually needed it. You were so upset that night, it bordered on hysterical. He’d come over to keep you company because even though he’d only been with you for a year, he’d known you much longer.

You were Toji’s girlfriend.

He’d met you while trying to track him down years before. The day he spotted you, his eyes had been trying to find his older cousin on a crowded city street. Instead they landed on you. Back then, you had a real baby face. Your eyes shined under the rays like they'd never known a cloudy day. The delicate daylight made your skin glow and your features appear softer. He felt drawn to you. It was like fate that you happened to be hanging off Toji’s arm.

Naoya had become friends with both of you. Hanging out with Toji was great because he was Toji. Naoya would have had fun with him if they just sat there and stared at each other. But shocking to everyone including himself, he actually liked you. He acted polite towards you, friendly even. He naturally smiled when you laughed. His eyes watched you during conversation. He took interest in the things you said.

In his mind, he maintained that he still didn’t like the company of women for the most part. But if Toji took an interest in you, there must have been something that made you worthwhile.

He fell in love with you silently. It was a feeling he never planned to act on. He would never betray his cousin like that. Instead, he’d just observe you in awe from a distance. He’d resign himself to only being your friend. Cousin-in-law if it came to that.

But then Toji died.

It left you devastated. Naoya felt hollowed out too, of course. He never thought he’d see Toji die. Part of him didn’t even believe that was possible. But even in comparison to his shock and grief and despair, you took it really hard.

You pulled away from him. Gaps between his visits transformed from days to weeks to months. You never outright told him you didn’t want him around. Your offers to play video games just dried up. You didn’t start conversations anymore, only offering minimal reactions to what he said. Most days you were busy taking extra shifts at work and on weekends you were hanging out with your own friends who Naoya “didn’t know.”

He followed you to a couple of these outings after feeling like he was going crazy experiencing withdrawal from you. Only he didn’t find “friends.” He found you, alone at the bar, getting yourself wasted until some guy would take you home with him and leave you feeling more empty than before.

After that, Naoya decided it was his duty to intervene. He would never have betrayed Toji for you, but now that Toji was gone, he would be what you needed. His cousin would want that, someone to protect you and make you feel loved. Someone to prevent you from destroying yourself in your sadness.

So on the anniversary of Toji’s death, he came to visit you. The two of you talked in short, tension-filled sentences. He could feel the guilt dripping from your every word. It was awkward, and he didn’t try making it any easier. Soon enough, as he expected, you pulled out something to drink to soothe your nerves and make the evening tolerable. And with the liquor came your tears.

It was easy really, corralling you to his chest and rubbing your back, whispering I’ve got you over and over. Then one little prick and you were out cold against him in less than a minute.

You weren’t too happy when you woke up the next afternoon in a place you didn’t recognize. His bedroom was much nicer than your apartment. Luxury furnishings adorned the space while expensive blankets covered your sluggish form. The upgrade in surroundings did little to convince you though.

When he came in to explain to you your new circumstances, you listened quietly at first. He thought for a second that it might all go smoothly, that you would see the value in him taking care of you. But then he got to the part about becoming his wife and bearing the next generation of Zen’ins… and you didn’t seem so on board with all of that.

Now, his heart pounded in his ears as he reached the top of the stairs. 

The first few months of your training had been rough, but he honestly thought he’d made great progress with you. All the fighting and yelling and crying broke you down quite a bit. The period of sleep deprivation helped as well. And of course, you’d done great for that couple weeks he’d kept you on a leash. You’d still have your bratty moments every now and then, but overall, you were doing much better now. You’d come so far and learned your place. Just sometimes, you forgot that he knew what was best for you.

And he wasn’t evil. He could be understanding. Going from your life of reckless independence to being taken care of by someone so responsible would be a big change, especially for such an emotional little thing like you. That’s why he only punished for actual disrespect.

He hoped that wasn’t what this was right now. Today was a special day. He planned to come home with open arms for you, not a raised belt. But like always, he would do what he had to.

Cautiously, he ventured through the second floor of your house back towards the bedroom. Once he was within a few feet of the door, he could hear some rustling. Finally some indication that you were still in the house. He let out a breath, but his muscles stayed taut. You could be trying to slip out the window again, prying off the nails he’d tacked through the sill.

His shaking hand landed on the door, his fingertips giving it a light push to knock it open. He braced himself, ready for the worst possible scenario. His plan wouldn’t change. Your compliance was the only variable in this situation.

He came into the bedroom and scanned around for trouble. You weren’t at the window or rummaging through his nightstand like he’d feared. You weren’t crouched at the foot of the bed, poised for an attack. Rather, he saw the closet doors open. That was where the noise was coming from.

Crossing the room, he peered between the double doors. Now his body could finally relax. He let out a deep breath and ran his hand over his face. Inside, you were there, safe and sound and not trying to escape. You were on your hands and knees, ducking beneath a shelf as if trying to find something. It seemed like you were having some trouble. Soft grunts fell from your lips and your hips wiggled as you tried to reach further. He couldn’t help noticing the way your back arched in this position along with your hips squirming. His pants felt a little tighter while watching you struggle, but he could deal with that in a few minutes. He cleared his throat to get your attention.

“There you are,” he said.

At the sound of his voice, your head shot up, knocking into the shelf above you.

“Ow,” you squeaked before pulling yourself free and sitting up. Your eyes looked up at him, wide and nervous. “Hi. Sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.”

He laughed at your little mishap before walking over to you and patting your head. “It’s alright,” he said, running his fingers along your scalp. 

His sweet puppy. Obedient just as he’d hoped. You deserved more credit than he gave you it seemed. He couldn’t let you totally off the hook for not meeting him at the door though. That was how bad habits formed. 

“Though maybe you shouldn’t start cleaning out the closet around the time I’m usually home.”

You nodded without protest before rising to your feet and tucking yourself to his side, your cheek squishing against the crisp fabric of his shirt.

“How was your day?” you asked. Your voice sounded meeker than usual, but he supposed you still feared the possibility of getting in trouble.

He wrapped his arm around you and squeezed your shoulder. “It was fine. Nothing special,” he said with a shrug. He began walking you out of the closet and back into the main part of the bedroom. “What were you looking for in there?”

“Today those people came over to fit me for the wedding dress, and while I had it on, I remembered these shoes I have that would go with it. I was just trying to find them, so I could ask if you liked them,” you answered.

A perfect answer in his book. You were looking for something in regards to the wedding, and not only that, but you planned on asking him for his opinion on it. It made his heart soar.

His fingers coasted up and swept below your chin, making you look up at him. As your jaw tilted upwards, his eyes fell to your neck. More specifically, the tight piece of material wrapped around your neck.

Your collar.

Just looking at it had Naoya’s cock stirring in his pants. He valued that little strap of fabric more than the diamond ring around your finger that cost thousands. His fingertips flicked the dangling silver tag that hung at the front.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, “Are you getting excited for the wedding?”

You shrugged and gave him a small smile. While he would have preferred a resounding Yes, he would take this. It was a vast improvement from the times you’d burst into tears if he so much as uttered the words wedding or bride in your presence.

He planted a kiss on your forehead before sitting on the foot of the bed and pulling you into his lap. You sat up straight on his thigh with your shoulders back. Good. He stressed the importance of not slouching to you. It was unbecoming of someone with your beauty.

Two of his knuckles dragged down the curve of your face while his eyes studied your face for a moment.

“You know… today is a very special day,” he said, connecting his gaze with yours.

They swirled with nervousness, uncertain what kind of special today was. “It is?” you asked.

“Yeah. It is,” he confirmed. His fingers rested below your jaw while his thumb swiped back and forth across your chin. “Today’s our anniversary.”

You blinked at him for a few seconds. “But we’re not married yet…” you said and cocked your head a little.

“I know that, silly girl,” he said, rolling his eyes, “I’m not talking about our wedding anniversary. I’m talking about the anniversary of us. Of me bringing you here. The real start of your life.”

Realization dawned all across your face. “Oh,” was all you said.

“Don’t give me that,” he said with a little pinch to your jaw, “It’s a lot more important than ‘oh.’ That was the day you really became mine. My little puppy.”

He snuck his arms around you and pulled you flush against his chest, rocking back and forth with you for a few moments. The way his body swayed felt like how a child would do it with their favorite doll. His fingers traced up and down your spine.

You shut your eyes and relaxed in the embrace for a few moments. His tender attitude at the moment helped keep your thoughts quiet, which was good since the information he just gave you feelings the exact opposite of his.

While nostalgia warmed Naoya’s chest, a sense of dread permeated your body. You had been here for a whole year. An entire year of your life, wasted away while you played house between the walls of the Zen’in estate. You had honestly given up on escape after the last time when he threatened to upgrade your collar to an electric one, but the idea that you would actually be here forever didn’t feel real until right now.

Something about the one year marker ticking by made the time more than an abstract concept. The same was true of Toji’s death. Some days it felt like he was gone only a week, others you felt like the last time you laid with him was in another life.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you think of him now. It was stupid, but sometimes you worried he’d be disappointed in you for giving in. He fought his way out of this place. Now one of them had you, and you were just taking it lying down.

But you couldn’t fight back anymore. You just couldn’t. This wasn’t so bad. You told yourself that everyday as you lounged around the house or made him dinner. It could be so much worse. It’s not like Naoya kept you in a box under the bed or in some dank basement. He treated you like a wife. Sure he could be… old-fashioned to put it nicely, but you were pretty sure that, in his own twisted way, he really believed he loved you.

And the worst part about this whole thing was you were kind of sure that, in some fucked up way, you felt some sort of attachment to him too.

You’d liked Naoya as a friend before any of this happened. When he was just Toji’s little cousin. You thought he was cute. A little mouthy, but funny and sharp. He was still that way now, and when you behaved he let you see that. That was when nostalgia hits you. When he got you laughing, some part of your brain felt like you were back in the apartment, waiting for Toji to come home from the store.

And when he wasn’t in a bad mood, he could be pretty sweet. Sure the puppy stuff made you want to vomit at first but now it was kinda cute… It was just his special thing for you. That’s what you told yourself. He took care of you, and he could be loving and gentle. He could be a lot worse to you. Some of the other men around here were to their wives.

Those thoughts only brought you turmoil though. You hated yourself for getting used to him. For finding reasons to defend him to yourself. To justify his eternal presence in your life.

As much as you tried to keep it down, a sniffle broke its way out of you. You hoped he didn’t notice. He was being nice right now, and you wanted so badly to keep that going. You didn’t want this to turn into a lesson.

But unfortunately, he heard the soft sound. He narrowed his eyes and grabbed your jaw, forcing your head off his chest. His eyes looked down upon your face now, not in admiration but with inquisition.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, the words coming out with the smallest hint of accusation.

Before you could even think of a cover, you shook your head. There was no way you were gonna risk having to explain your feelings to him. Naoya wasn’t the best with that.

“No…” you replied, “I’m just… I’m so… I’m so happy.”

He continued to stare at you, though his gaze dissolved from displeased to plain confusion. You brought your hand up to hold his wrist.

“I never thought I would be so lucky to have someone like you who takes care of me and looks out for me. I just can’t believe it’s been a whole year. It just makes me think about everything,” you whispered. The low volume helped them seem more authentic. If you had to be emphatic about this, it would probably seem forced.

A gradual smile began forming on his face. “Well no wonder you’re crying. You know you and thinking don’t go well together,” he teased and pulled you back to his body.

He let out a lovesick sigh and rested his cheek against the top of your head. You released a breath too. Without his scrutiny, you could relax. His hand resumed petting up and down your back while he held you.

“My poor puppydoll… you get overwhelmed by all those big feelings in your head so easily,” he cooed, “That’s why you need me. You know I can handle it all for you.”

You nodded on instinct.

“That’s my girl,” he praised, “But I didn’t bring today up for no reason. I wanted to tell you something.”

“What is it?” you asked and wiped at your misty eyes before looking up at him again.

“Well, because today is our anniversary, I thought you deserved a gift. But you’ve been such a good girl lately, so polite and well behaved, doing everything I ask of you. It couldn’t be just anything. It had to be special,” he explained.

You tried to map out where this might be going, but you came up short. He rolled over with you, slotting you beneath him on the mattress. His elbow held him above you while his free hand came up and clicked off your collar. Your eyes widened as he pushed it aside. Today must have really been special to him.

“I was thinking and thinking and thinking, but I couldn’t come up with anything that my puppy would need. You already have so many pretty outfits. So many good pairs of shoes. All the toys you could want. I keep you so well-spoiled… so what would be a good enough present for my sweet little bride?” he asked as he ducked down to your neck, “Can you guess?”

His mouth began laying hot kisses on your throat. You shuddered under his touch. He licked at your pulse point before nipping at the skin. You know he wanted to leave a mark. That was the main reason he bothered kissing your neck at all.

When he didn’t say anything after a few seconds, you realized his question wasn’t rhetorical. He expected you to guess.

“Um… I don’t know. Are we gonna go out somewhere together?” you asked hopefully. It had been a long time since you’d seen the city. Or anywhere that wasn’t this house or the grounds of this estate.

He laughed a little against your skin, peppering the area with another series of pecks. “Good try, but no. I thought of something even better,” he breathed.

You tried to think of another guess, but you honestly had no clue what he intended to use to mark this occasion.

“I don’t know,” you acquiesced.

“That’s ok, baby. I didn’t think you’d get it. It was just cute watching you try,” he teased. 

He nosed at your neck once more before pulling back and looking down at you. His hand rested on your hips, his fingers clasped around the soft flesh there.

“I was thinking that because you’ve been such a good girl for me lately, that you’re ready for me to give you the greatest gift you’ll ever receive,” he whispered, “My heir.”

Every cell in your body froze upon hearing those words. You stared at him, jaw tight and eyes unmoving. How did you not think of that? It was obvious now that he’d said it. You’d known about his desire to eventually get you pregnant since your first day here, but he’d always referred to it as some distant thing. Some event that would occur after the two of you married.

There was only a month until the wedding though, so you supposed he was on track.

“Like a baby?” you whispered back, still wishing somehow that you’d misinterpreted what he meant.

“Well obviously,” he said, “Now’s not the time for joking, puppy. I know you’re ready.”

“I…” you started, but you cut yourself short. You didn’t know how to divert him from that idea without causing a blow up. “I’m scared…” you tried.

“There’s no reason to be. You know I’ll take care of you. The whole time you’re pregnant, you’ll be spoiled even more than you are now,” he said and kissed you, this time on the mouth. His lips moved against your own at a sensual pace before he pulled back. “It’ll feel so good. It’s what this body was made for. To carry Zen’in babies.”

You didn’t know what else you could possibly say, but luckily that wasn’t a worry for long. He went back in for more kisses. His tongue worked your mouth open before slipping in and caressing your own. You moaned softly and brought your hand up to thread through his bleached tresses.

He smirked against your lips. You could feel the smug curve of it rise as he steadied himself above you. His hand kneaded your hips before his fingers hooked over the top of your bottoms and began pulling them down.

Your heart thundered in your chest. “Nao, I don’t know…” you whimpered, but he silenced you by pressing his mouth harder against you.

“There’s nothing for you to know, baby. Nothing you need to worry about. You let me make the decisions remember? Just be a good girl for me,” he mumbled. 

He rolled his hips against your center, forcing your legs to spread wider in the process. You could feel his bulge against the thin cloth of your panties. He did it a couple more times, rocking the hard mound against your clothed cunt. The dull friction felt good, you couldn’t deny that. Your breath hitched and you arched against him slightly.

Despite you starting to reciprocate somewhat, he could still feel the tension in you, and he didn’t like that. Normally it wouldn’t bother him so much, but tonight was different. He wanted you desperate to carry his babies, begging for him to fuck you full of his seed. It was an honor after all. Even if you still had reservations, you would come to see that in time.

His right set of fingers delved between your thighs, lifting the elastic of your panties and cupping your pussy. He slid his middle digit between your folds. In a few seconds, the pad swirled around your sensitive bundle of nerves. It flicked across your little clit, drawing a whine out of you.

“You don’t understand how badly I need to breed you, precious,” he breathed.

Your legs squirmed, and you bit your lip. You tried to keep your thoughts in line. A few small strokes to your pussy wouldn’t melt you so easily.

But it wasn’t just a few small strokes.

Naoya went back to kissing your neck, working all over from your jaw to your shoulder. His finger played with you until you began leaking arousal. He ground his erection against your thigh and whimpered next to your ear.

You could try to ignore it all you wanted, but you could hear the need in his voice. He sounded like an animal in pain. His other hand gripped you with the force of one as well.

“It’s all I want in this world. To rule this clan with you at my side, full with my child,” he panted, “You’ll look beautiful. Swollen in all the right places. Your body glowing as it does what it was meant to.”

Another moan fell from your mouth as his dreams began to infiltrate your mind as well. And while you were all worked up, you could kind of see the appeal.

“It’ll feel so good for you, fulfilling your purpose. Your body will be so sensitive too. You’ll ache for me, puppy. Your body will crave me like oxygen because it’ll know I own you.”

“Naoya,” you gasped. His finger slid down to your entrance and prodded inside for a moment. He pumped it in and out. It wasn’t enough to make you cum or give you serious pleasure. But it was the perfect amount to steal the thoughts from your head and melt you beneath him.

“Good girl,” he purred, “This is what you need, baby. That silly little brain is trying to hold you back because you’ve been taught that everyone expects more of you. But I don’t. I don’t expect you to work or make decisions or do any of that hard stuff because I know that’s too complicated for my little puppy. It wouldn’t be fair to ask that of you. All I want you to do is relax and let me have control. Just be my good little girl and listen to what I tell you. And what I’m telling you is that you’re meant to be bred. That’s all you need to do, my sweet wife.”

A moment passed where nothing changed. He kept kissing you while you stayed still. But then your hands rose to his chest and started grabbing at his shirt, trying to tug it off. And he knew he had you.

“Silly girl, just a few sweet words and you fall apart so easily for me,” he muttered.

In your mind, your resolve hadn’t completely collapsed. But what he’d said didn’t sound horrible. It was definitely the best case scenario for being here. So why not enjoy your anniversary. You could worry about the consequences tomorrow.

He made quick work of his clothing and your remaining coverings. In no time, he stood nude above him while you laid exposed on the mattress.

Stroking his cock a few times, he climbed on top of you. His golden eyes drooped with lust as they focused on you. You wrapped your legs around his waist in an attempt to guide him where you needed him most.

“So eager to be full now, are you?” he mocked.

You nodded and looped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down on you. Most of the time, he wasn’t a fan of such clinginess while he was on top of you, but you were behaving better than he expected. He could let it slide just this once. It was your anniversary after all.

He lined up with your hole and nudged the tip against you teasingly.

“Naoya,” you whined, tightening your legs around him.

“This is what I get for spoiling you, huh? A whiny pup,” he murmured and pecked your cheek as he sheathed himself inside you.

Your walls locked around him, squeezing and fluttering at the pleasure that came with the first thrust. His breath came out a little shaky as he adjusted to the feeling of you around him. He shut his eyes for a moment, just feeling the warmth of your tight embrace.

“Your pussy’s begging for it,” he said as he dragged his hips back. He then pushed into you again.

Another long stroke followed the first, and then another after that. He set himself into a steady rhythm, rocking his hips back and forth. You mewled and clutched at his shoulders.

“It just feels so good,” you whimpered.

His grip became stronger on you too. He held you close to his body, ensured you couldn’t run or squirm away from him in the slightest. His pelvis continued to piston against you. The faint sound of skin clapping on skin filled the bedroom along with your combined sounds of ecstasy.

Every time he bottomed out, his silky tip bumped against some sweet spot. You cried out with almost everyone. Your eyes rolled back, blissed out from the continuous stimulation.

“That’s it. Just take it,” he huffed, nestling his face against your neck. You could feel his hot breath steaming against your skin.

Arousal continued to gush from you around his cock. Your slick smeared against your skin and coated the patch of dark hair at the base of his dick.

“Nao… deeper, please,” you whined.

He sighed and obliged your request, slamming into you as hard as he could. Your head board knocked against the wall.

“There you go,” he grunted, “Nice and deep. Gotta get it all the way in so it will take.”

You felt so good that hearing that didn’t even bother you. If anything, it dragged you closer to the edge.

“Gonna- ah! Gonna…” you tried to tell him.

“Just think about it. If I knock you up tonight, you’ll be pregnant during our wedding,” he said. He rolled his hips against you at a slower pace that still reached just as deep. “You’re supposed to wait till the wedding night to try, but no one would know. It’d be our little secret. My gorgeous bride, bred and beautiful just for me.”

Your hips bucked eagerly, out of your control. A pitchy whine left you, audible proof of your desperation.

“That’s it, puppy. Cum for me,” he crooned, “Cum for me so I can pump you full and put a baby in your belly.”

You cried out and locked your limbs around his body. Your muscles all quivered as release crashed into you. It hit you like a bomb going off. Your eyes screwed shut while your jaw clenched. Strangled moans still made their way out though.

He groaned right beside your ear. The pulsing of your cunt only grew more rapid around his length. It massaged him just how he needed to reach the finish line. He kept working himself in and out right until he felt that peak. Then he slid in all the way and let his body go lax on you, trembling with the pleasure of his orgasm.

You held him while his cum spilled inside of you, and afterwards the both of you remained attached. Your hearts pounded against each other where your chests met, rising and falling with labored breaths. His fingers lazily pet your head, trailing down to your shoulder to trace little patterns there.

Eventually, he pulled out and rolled off of you. His hand came to rest on your lower stomach without a word. He held it there for a few moments before rising onto his elbow and giving you a kiss.

“My perfect bride-to-be,” he whispered, the tip of his nose nearly touching yours, “I think whatever you had in the oven has long burnt by now.”

The tone in which he said the words had you thinking for a few seconds they were just some sweet nothings you didn’t understand. But upon taking a deeper breath and smelling the air, you realized he was right. The food you’d put in the oven before he’d come home was probably burnt to a crisp at this point.

“Sorry,” you said, instantly sitting up to go and correct your mistake.

But with a gentle hand on your shoulder, he ushered you back down against the mattress.

“I’ll have the servants bring us something better and clean it up,” he said and nuzzled your cheek, “What do I always say? I’ll take care of you. Even your little mistakes.”

You nodded and relaxed again. Your eyes drifted down to your stomach, the location of your possible future greatest mistake. Despite everything that had just transpired, you hoped it wouldn’t take.

“Oh I almost forgot,” he said, breaking you from your thoughts. His hand came up to your throat, your collar between his fingers. He grinned as he fastened it back into place. “There we go. It would be wrong of me to leave my pup without her collar.”

He flicked the dangling tag once more before laying beside you again.

[storiesforallfandoms]

change in a heartbeat ~ billy butcher;the boys

word count: 2523

request?: no

description: billy butcher is many things, namely an idiot, and he showcases that best after he finds out his girlfriend is pregnant

pairing: billy butcher x female!reader

warnings: swearing, angsty angst, mentions of abortions, use of y/n, pregnancy stuff, butcher being an idiot which like what else is new y’know?

masterlist (one, two, three)

I knew I was pregnant before the test came back positive. I never believed when women said that because it just seemed improbable, but I definitely knew. Besides noticing I had missed my period, I just felt off in a way I couldn’t describe. I guess I had to know, otherwise I wouldn’t have taken the test. And there it was, the two lines confirming my suspicions.

I always thought I’d be scared to get a positive result on a pregnancy test. I never thought I was ready to have a kid. But in that moment, I was overcome with joy. Sure, the thought of pregnancy and childbirth was still terrifying, but I was actually excited about having a baby; I was happy to be carrying Billy’s baby.

I knew he was coming over the day I took the pregnancy test. I had timed it so I could tell him the second he walked through the door. There was no way I would’ve been able to keep this to myself for long, and I knew it was something I had to tell him in person. The second I heard him opening the front door to my place, I was throwing myself into his arms, nearly knocking him over.

“Alright, what’s this then?” Billy chuckled.

“I have some news,” I told him. “Very good news, I think.”

“What is it then, love?”

I pulled the pregnancy test from my back pocket and presented it to Billy. I watched as his eyes looked over the plastic stick. My excitement started to turn to dread as I watched the amused look on Billy’s face disappear.

“Is this a bloody joke?” he asked.

I flinched at his harsh tone. That definitely was not the reaction I was expecting. “No, it’s real. I have another one in the bathroom if you want to watch me use it as proof.”

I was trying to make a joke to lighten the mood, but Billy’s face didn’t change.

“This is good news?” he asked, holding up the pregnancy test.

“It...is?” I definitely didn’t sound as certain as I had felt moments ago. “I thought so anyways. I thought...I thought you’d be happy, too.”

“Why the fuck would I be happy about a baby I don’t fucking want?”

His words cut through my chest like a knife. I took a step away from Billy. I felt tears welling in my eyes, but I tried to hold them back.

“Maybe I thought you loved me enough to want to have a child with me,” I countered.

Billy scoffed. “Oh, come off it (Y/N). This isn’t about how much I love ya. It’s about the fact that I don’t want kids, no matter who they’re with.”

“Well, I’m pregnant and it’s yours. So what are we going to do about this?”

I was hoping he’d say that I was right and he wanted our baby. I wanted him to apologize, and maybe even drop to his knees and kiss my belly to be a bit cliche. I wanted him to just accept this baby, that was it.

Instead, he asked, “Would you get an abortion?”

The dam finally broke and tears started to run down my cheeks. I snatched the pregnancy test back from Billy and held it so tightly that my nails and the plastic were digging into the palm of my hand.

“I think you should leave,” I told him, trying hard to keep my voice even.

“(Y/N) - ”

“No,” I cut him off. “You’ve made your decision and I’ve made mine. I want you out of my fucking house, now.”

“If you are going to get an abortion, I want to come with you.”

I shook my head. “I’d rather you not. In fact, I’d rather not see you at all.”

Billy nodded. I saw some hurt on his face, and I was glad I did. I hoped my words hurt him just as bad as his hurt me. Without another word, Billy went back out the door. Once it closed behind him, I sunk to the floor and let myself sob. I realized I was still holding the pregnancy test, so I tossed it as far away from me as I could.

Stupid fucking piece of plastic.

~~~~~~

Butcher’s POV

I looked down at my phone for the fifth time in about 20 minutes. I don’t know why I was still hoping to hear from (Y/N) after our last encounter. It had been days, nearly a week, and neither of us had spoken to the other. Not that I expected (Y/N) to be the one to break the silence.

“You still with us, Butcher?” MM asked. To say he sounded frustrated would be an understatement. I couldn’t blame him since this was the third or fourth time I had completely zoned out while he was explaining our plan.

“Yeah,” I lied.

They all knew it was a lie, but they weren’t going to call me out on it at this point.

MM started talking again, but it immediately became background noise to me. My hand inched closer to my phone again. I couldn’t stop myself. Even knowing it had been mere seconds since I checked last, I had to see if there was any messages.

There wasn’t.

“Butcher!”

“Fuck off, mate!” I snapped back. “Jesus Christ, can’t a man just check his phone?!”

They were all looking at me and it pissed me off. I wanted to punch all of them in their stupid fucking faces - except maybe Kimiko. She’d probably rip my arm off before I even touched her.

“What’s going on, man?” Hughie asked. “You’ve been irritable for days now.”

Damn that kid for being so perceptive, and for caring enough to ask.

“It’s nothing.”

“Is it about (Y/N)?” Hughie asked. “You haven’t mentioned her or brought her around in days.”

“I said it’s fuckin’ nothing!”

They all shared a look. MM asked, “What happened, man? Is she okay?”

My hands curled into fists. I took a deep breath in to try and calm myself. I may as well be honest with them if I was going to be snapping at them. “She’s pregnant.”

They were silent. Unsure looks crossed their faces, but once again, Hughie was the first to speak, “That’s...great. Isn’t it?”

“It would’ve been if I hadn’t told her to get rid of the baby.”

A chorus of “what?!”s rang out through the room.

“I thought you loved (Y/N), no?” Frenchie asked. “Would that not mean you should be happy that she is having your baby?”

“It is your baby...right?” Hughie added.

I restrained myself from snapping at him. Given Becca’s circumstances, it wasn’t a bad question. “Yes, it is, but this life I lead is not one for a baby. You should know that best, MM.”

“It’s hard to do what we do and have a kid, sure,” MM agreed. “I worry about Janine every second I’m not with her, but that’s how I was before we started chasing Supes. That’s called parenting, Butcher.”

“This is different, and you know it.”

MM raised an eyebrow at me. Christ, I hated that fucking face; like he could see right through into my head and read my every thought. I hated the lot of them for knowing so much. For caring. Everything was easier when I didn’t have so many people who were actually level headed and caring.

“Butcher, I say this with the utmost respect: you are a stupid motherfucker,” MM said. “I know what your concerns are, and I’m not saying that they’re not valid, but if you are going to let a woman like (Y/N) get away over your own worries without talking to her - and I know you haven’t told her the truth because I know you - then you are the dumbest motherfucker that I know.”

He was right and I knew that. It may be too late, but I had to talk to (Y/N) and tell her the truth. If she still decided we were over and she didn’t want to keep the baby, then I’d respect her decision. I just needed to talk to her at least.

I was moving towards the door before I really realized it. Frenchie called after me, “Where are you going?”

“To talk to (Y/N),” I responded.

“But the plan!”

I was out the door before Frenchie finished his sentence.

~~~~~~

(Y/N)’s POV

I wasn’t expecting anyone when a knock came at my door. Most people wouldn’t get overly paranoid about a random knock, but most people didn’t deal with psychopathic Supes. I didn’t make a move at first. Realistically, it it were Homelander, he wouldn’t knock. He’d break into my house and laser me dead before I even knew what was happening. That didn’t stop me from sitting completely still, trying to calm my pounding heart.

Another knock came and I reluctantly stood. I had a bat next to my door in case of intruders. My hand closed around the bad as I looked through the peep hole to see who it was.

To my surprise, Billy Butcher was stood at the other side of my door.

I debated on not opening it and letting him stand there until he gave up and left. But then he said, “I know you’re there, (Y/N). Just open the door.”

Reluctantly, I did as he said, but I didn’t take my hand off of the bat.

“I’m an idiot,” he said before I could speak. “I should’ve talked about my concerns when you told me you were pregnant, but instead I let myself get freaked out and say shit I didn’t mean. I know an apology isn’t enough, but I am so, so sorry, (Y/N).”

“What are you so concerned about?” I asked. I wanted to know his true feelings before I slammed the door in his face. It might be the closure I needed before I finally let go of this relationship.

“Can I come in so we can talk?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re lucky I’m letting you talk period. Don’t push your luck, Butcher.”

He nodded. “Alright, fair enough. I’m terrified of turning out like my old man.”

And just like that, nine words caused me to let down every guard I had put up the second I saw him through the peep hole. He didn’t have to say anything else, because that was enough to make me understand. But he went on anyways, “My father was a terrible fucking man, and my mum let him be terrible to me and to Lenny. I had no other older man to help me, to look up to. Lenny had me, and what did I do but go and leave him alone with that monster. And if I had no one else to take after but my dad, then how can I not turn out like him with my own kid? It’s never something I had to worry about when I was married to Becca, because I didn’t have that same level of anger and hatred as I do now after everything that’s happened to me because of those fucking Supes.”

Of course he was worried because of his dad. I should’ve realized that the second he started freaking out after seeing the pregnancy test. It didn’t make his reaction or his suggestion right by any means, but maybe if I had realized before then I could’ve gotten him to actually talk to me instead of kicking him out of my house.

But he wasn’t done. “And what’s to say that Homelander doesn’t do something to you and the kid once he realizes you’re pregnant? I took his son from him once, what’s to stop him from taking mine? I can’t guarantee you or the baby would be protected all the time, and I can’t lose someone else that I love to that fuckin’ cunt.”

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about that for a split second when I took the pregnancy test at first. Homelander had no morals. He wasn’t above hurting a child, or a pregnant woman, just to hurt Billy. But Billy and I had been together for over a year now and nothing had happened to me yet. I trusted him to protect me, and I trusted everything he had taught me to protect myself.

“I was a fucking idiot for everything I said before,” Billy said. “I wouldn’t want you to get rid of our baby, (Y/N). I don’t have a lot of good things in my life lately, but you are one of the best things. This baby would be one of the best things.”

I could feel myself getting choked up again. I cleared my throat and asked, “And what if I already got rid of it?”

“Then I’ll put another one in ya.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped my lips. It was the most Billy response he could’ve given.

I finally let go of the back and stepped aside. I motioned for him to come inside and he did without hesitation. I led him to the living room where I had just been sat before he showed up. I picked up my phone from the couch and opened it to play him the recording I had been listening to on repeat for days.

His brows furrowed together. “What is that?”

“It’s our baby’s heartbeat,” I explained. “When you go for an abortion, if you’re far enough along they’ll sometimes have you listen to the heartbeat before you make your decision. At first it just sounded like a bunch of noises to me, but when it kicked in that it was the heartbeat of my...our baby...I just couldn’t do it.”

When his eyes met mine, I saw that they were shiny with tears forming. I couldn’t remember ever seeing Billy Butcher cry in all the time I had known him.

“So...you’re still...?”

I nodded. “There’s still a bun in this oven.”

He had his hands on his face and was pulling me to him before the words were fully out of my mouth. His pressed his lips against mine. I balled his Hawaiian shirt in my fists and held him close to me. Everything felt right again. I finally felt whole for the first time in nearly a week.

“I’m so sorry, love,” he said when he pulled away. “I promise you, I will be here for you and for our baby. Every step of the way, I promise.”

“I believe you,” I said. “And I promise you that you will not be like your dad. I know you won’t. I trust you and I believe in you.”

He kissed me again before dropping to his knees in front of me. He pulled my shirt up enough to show my belly and pressed a kiss against the sensitive skin, tickling it a little bit with his beard.

“I’m going to protect you, kid,” he said. “I won’t let a soul hurt you. That’s a promise.”

[elegantlyeva]

Can you please do shy!reader with Sirius? but she's a little more comfortable with him? and maybe something with gifts

DAY FIVE

Priceless

Summary: Finding the perfect gift for his perfect person was harder than Sirius thought.

Word Count: 1.1k 

After hours of dragging his feet through shops and flirting his way out of a scolding from two old women—because he shoved their kids trying to get to the front of the line—Sirius has decided he’s done with the holidays.

“What’s wrong with him?” Remus’s voice cut through the haze. He must’ve just gotten out of class.

“He’s being insufferable,” James replied with the kind of dramatic eye roll Sirius didn’t need to see to picture.

He groaned, sinking further into his chair.

“Is it the girl again?” Remus asks, placing his stuff on the table.

“Of course it’s the girl. It’s all he talks about anymore,” James yelps when Sirius brings his hand to smack the back of his head. “Ow.”

“You’re speaking of me like I’m not right here.”

“You’re acting like a sad lump. I told you, girls are easy. Get her flowers and write her name on them.”

“That’s impersonal,” Sirius muttered. “She’s not just any girl. She’s…” He trailed off, not knowing how to put it into words. She was perfect, but that hardly covers it.

“Why don’t you just ask her what she wants?” Remus asks, confused. James answers for Sirius.

“You’ll be alone forever, Moony. What girl wants you to ask? We’re supposed to know what they want.”

“Sounds like rubbish to me.”

“Enough. Both of you. You’re horrible friends and even less help,” Sirius groans.

Remus gives him a kind look and a pat on the shoulder. “S’alright, Padfoot. Have you gotten her anything to work with?”

Sirius sighs, nodding his head. “Practically something from every shop at Hogsmeade.”

“There’s the creepy drawing as well,” James brings up.

“Creepy drawing?”

“I’ll turn your hair green and say you did it to show your admiration toward Severus,” Sirius warns.

James puts his hands up in surrender.

Remus sighs. “Can we please stay on topic? What creepy drawing?”

“I had Roger Hughes help me paint this photograph of her and me together.”

“That’s nice,” Remus says. “What’s the problem?”

“Sirius is a horrible boyfriend,” James quips.

“I’m not her boyfriend,” he replies, rather mournfully. You had told him you wanted to move slowly, and he’s sure it’s because you think he’ll drop you for the next girl.

“I’m worried it’s too much,” he says instead.

“Why don’t you give her a label for the holidays?” James mumbles. Remus hushes him before Sirius can strangle the boy.

James gave a dramatic sigh. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

Sirius let the conversation drop, gesturing for them to change the subject.

Two days later, he found you by yourself, your bag slung over your shoulder as you made your way through the corridor. He stepped up behind you, reaching for the handle of your bag to take it off your shoulder.

You flinched, and he cursed inwardly. “Sorry,” he mumbled, pulling his hand back, but you shook your head.

“It’s fine,” you smiled softly, letting him take your bag. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be looking for me.”

“No? Well, clearly they’ve been poisoned. I would’ve come looking for you earlier had I thought you’d be alone.” He takes your hand in his free one.

You laughed quietly. “Most of my friends have left for break already.”

“Shame,” he said, then added, “Good thing I found you before you started pining for their company.” He laced his fingers through yours, watching as a small smile tugged at your lips.

“Actually,” he said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, “I got you something.”

Your smile faltered slightly. “Why?”

Sirius blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean why? It’s the holidays, love.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I thought we agreed not to do gifts. You said it was too… relationship-y.”

“That was different!” Sirius protested, squeezing your hand again. “That was for my birthday. You shouldn’t be spending money on me.”

You frowned, clearly unconvinced. “You spent money on me.”

Sirius tsks. “Hush, woman. Let me finish.” Your glare and the urge to kiss you overtakes him, but he keeps his hands to himself.

“Before I give it to you, two things. One, if you poke fun at me, I’ll be heartbroken forever. Two, if you hate it or think it’s creepy—”

“Did you get me a voodoo doll or something?”

“Wh—no.” He frowns. “As I was saying, if you think it’s weird or whatever, I can give you some of the stuff I got you at Hogsmeade. Or if you really want, I can get you basic flowers like James suggested.”

You smile hesitantly, bringing a finger to poke him in the side. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

He sighs. “Yeah, you would say that now.” He grabs something out of his bag—a poorly wrapped square... something.

He makes a move to hand it to you but takes it back. “Open it when I’m gone.”

“Sirius.”

“Fine, fine,” he sighed, finally giving you the package.

You pulled him over to a window ledge, sitting down as you carefully unwrapped it. Your expression softened immediately, face contorting to one of surprise, then fondness. “Oh.”

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, nerves creeping back in. “Oh?”

“Oh,” you repeat.

He sighs. “Darling, I’m gonna need more than that. Is that a good ‘oh’ or a bad ‘oh’?”

“Very pleased ‘oh,’” you say, smiling, cheeks feeling warm.

Relief washed over him. “Yeah?”

It’s a picture—well, a painting—of the two of you. A very pretty one at that. The two of you are outside on the lawn, and Sirius had said something that evidently made you laugh. The way his eyes are painted almost convinces you that he likes you. Like really, really likes you.

“I didn’t know you could draw, much less paint,” you add, a light tease in your words, but your eyes look so kind that he hardly cares.

“I can’t. Well, I couldn’t. I had to pay this Ravenclaw—Hughes—more than I’m willing to admit to teach me how.” 

Then, uncharacteristically nervous, “So, you like it?” You were staring rather hard.

You lean over to press a kiss to his cheek, surprising him for the first time that day.

“I love it. It’s pretty.” wrinkling your nose sweetly, “you put thought into it.”

“Don’t get sappy now.” Then, softer, “I’d like to be your boyfriend.”

He hears your breath hitch, and he’s ready to mask his hurt feelings when you respond, “I’d like to be your girlfriend.”

Sirius grinned, his confidence returning. “Yeah? Means you can’t get all cozy with other boys.”

“What other boys?” you ask, confused and a little dazed, still looking at the painting with adoration.

“Tricked you. If you agreed, I would know you’re seeing heaps of people.”

You laugh, and he can’t help himself any longer, pressing his lips to yours.

You tense at first but soon melt into him, eyes closed and lips soft.

When you pull away, matching smiles are on your faces.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Different

Arsenal Women x Teen!Reader

Summary: You're different from the other kids

To your Mam, it was like the end of the world.

To you, it was something you had seen approaching from a while away. You'd never been the most coordinated of people. Your spatial awareness was terrible and it was like your limbs applied what your brain told them with a five-second delay.

You'd known since you were little that you were different.

You think your Mam knew too.

You'd never really been able to play football with her, no matter how hard you'd tried when you were younger. Sports weren't your thing.

You knew that she was disappointed in that but she'd tried to find different hobbies for you.

You had cried after your third guitar lesson, your fingers making it difficult to pluck the strings, and you felt the same way about art.

It was only a matter of time that something like this happened. Honestly, you think it should have happened long before that.

Your teachers had always been willing to sweep your bad handwriting under the rug. They had always written it off as you not caring enough or having no interest in the lesson. You were scatterbrained at times and got easily distracted when you were bored. Your hands shook at the idea of catching a ball or using a paintbrush.

Everyone had just put it down to being a slow learner with low self-esteem.

Nobody ever realised you had never really improved.

Except for your math's teacher.

He had noticed the signs this year when he took over your class.

So, here you were, sat in the canteen at Arsenal with hunched shoulders as your mother ranted and raved to the others.

"There's nothing wrong with her!" Katie denied as she paced back and forth in front of you. "Who the hell does he think he is? Saying there's something wrong with her?"

"He actually said that?" Leah asked, eyes wide.

Katie dropped her arms. "Essentially! He said that it was in her best interest to get her tested! There's nothing wrong with her!"

You held your tongue. There was something wrong with you, you thought. You knew you were different to the other kids. You'd made your peace with that a while ago.

You had your exams next year and you dreaded it. It took you nearly a full week to write essays. You didn't know how you would cope if you had to write them under exam conditions.

You clutched at your school report, willing yourself not to cry. It was all the same, each and every one of them.

Homework Performance: Below Average

Assessment Performance: Below Average

In Class Contributions: Average

Overall Grade: F

Comments: y/n is a very bright girl in one-on-one or class discussions but needs to apply herself more in her written work

It was the same thing over and over again. You could do nothing right when it came to written work. You could barely hold your pen or finish off your thoughts within the time frame of your mocks.

"How dare they!" Steph continued, jumping in on what your Mam was saying. "She's very smart! Katie, you can't let them treat her like this!"

You blinked away your tears as Beth ran a soothing hand up and down your arm.

"I'll be having words!" Katie insisted," There's nothing wrong with her! It's not her fault they're not teaching her properly!"

You loved your Mam, you really did but you could never get a word in about this stuff. It had been a constant problem that started all the way back in Year 2 when your teacher brought up serious worries.

'She's just a slow learner' your Mam had insisted. 'She'll get there' she'd promised.

Only you weren't a slow learner and you never did get there.

It was like the rest of your classmates had left you behind in a marathon and you were sprinting just trying to catch up. They had left you behind in the dust until they were nothing but specks in the distance while you had already collapsed from the exhaustion of it all.

You never even crossed the starting line.

More tears fell onto your closed fists. It took everything in you not to cry out loud.

"It's okay," Alessia said softly to you," Katie'll sort it out."

You didn't want Mam to sort it out. You didn't want this to be swept away again.

Your exams were next year and you just wanted someone to fix you. You wanted someone to tell you what was so fucked up in the head that holding a pen in your hand was your version of playing against prime Barcelona for the rest of your life.

"Hey," Leah said. Her hand was on your shoulder now and you tried not to flinch away, hunching your back so you could curl into yourself. "This means nothing. You're so smart and if those teachers are grading you unfairly then Katie's gonna let them have it."

"They're not grading me unfairly," You choked out," I just can't write. Leah, I can't write anything."

"Your handwriting's a little messy," Leah tried to soothe you, not knowing that her misunderstanding of the situation was making everything worse," But that's okay. You've got plenty of time to work on it."

Your eyes flicked to look at her, red and puffy as you beseeched her to understand," I've been working on it my whole life, Leah. I can't write."

"You can."

"Thanks but I need realism right now. I'm failing. Because I can't write during an exam. GCSEs are next summer. I'm screwed."

"It's plenty of time!" Leah said, still trying to hype you up," You'll get there."

"That's what everyone says," You grumbled. You tucked your school report back into your bag.

Your Mam had been writing those off for years, adamant that the teachers were just harsh on you, that slow and steady wins the race. But the race had been long over by now and you were probably closer to the beginning than the finishing line.

"Don't listen to that stupid man," Mam said as she came closer, cradling your cheeks in her hands," He doesn't know what he's talking about. There's nothing to test you about. You're perfect."

You certainly didn't feel perfect. You felt like your world was crumbling and your hands were shaking too much to haul yourself to safety.

You sighed and finally spoke," I want to be tested."

Mam's face turned thundery. "You've no reason to be tested. There's nothing wrong with you."

"There is Mam!" You weren't usually one to shout but this had gone on long enough. "I know it and you know it too. There's something wrong with me."

"There's nothing wrong. You're just a bit different but that's okay."

You pulled yourself out of her arms. "I want to be tested. I'm different to the others and I want to know why."

Mam looked like she wanted to argue but someone came to your rescue.

"Katie," Kim said," Get her tested. I know what you're feeling like but, seriously, get her tested, if only so you can be right and you can yell at more teachers. But, if there is something that's affecting her, surely, you want to get support for her?"

Mam sighed, looking over at you as you sobbed in Viv's arms.

She'd known you were different when you didn't hit your milestones as a baby. You were slow to crawl and slow to walk. She knew you were different the moment you let her throw a ball in your face instead of trying to catch it. She knew you were different when you came home in tears at age five because you couldn't write properly or when you got teased at school because your shaking hands couldn't control the paintbrush either.

Katie knew you were different but that didn't mean you were broken. Being tested for something made it seem like there was something wrong. There was nothing wrong with you and Katie would kill anyone who insinuated otherwise.

"Katie," Kim said again," She wants to be tested. Her teachers think it's a good idea. She needs this if only to be a bit more settled."

Katie looked back at you as Lia and Laura offered you food and drink to refuel from your impromptu public breakdown. She sighed.

"I'll...I'll call her Maths teacher back, see if he says any recommendations for where."

[grimespial]

Double The Daddies

Daryl Dixon x Single Dad!Male Reader

At first, I can imagine Daryl thinking one of the women were the mother, like people thought Shane was Carl's father

It wasn't until he actually noticed that it was just you two in the tent, I mean most single parents he knew were mothers with dead beat baby daddies, it was a bit of a suprise to him.

But of course, your kid is the one that decides everyone else are "scaredy-cats" and has practically imprinted on Daryl

Daryl at most said a few sentences total to them, doesn't matter how blunt the kid just won't get the hint

The more you had to go collect them or stand near Daryl to be close to them, the closer you and Daryl ended up getting.

If Merle was around he'd never hear the end of how soft he was, but something about this kid just knew how to tug at his heart

It became second nature to look for you in a room, moving closer when there was any danger,

He didn't even notice until Rick was looking for you and pointed out that Daryl tends to keep an eye on you two.

Daryl was honestly scared when he started feeling weird around you, he ended up brining it up to Carol before getting laughed at

He was not amused.

She told him it was called a crush, and that made it worse. What do you mean he had a crush? And to a man? This was all new so he avoided it

Which meant avoiding you and your kid

To say it hurt was an understatement, but your baby was hurt so much worse. They just couldn't understand why Daryl wasn't around anymore

You could push the feelings away when it was just you, but when they asked "Where's Dad Daryl?" it was enough.

It didn't help how they saw Daryl care for Judith, wondering why he didn't like them anymore.

You had to wait till your kid was asleep before confronting him, it was going to end up in a shouting match so hopefully they wouldn't hear it.

Shouting match was correct, what wasn't expected was it to be cut off by Daryl kissing you. He looked as shocked as you did, before you pulled him back in

What you forgot to warn Daryl about was he might accidentally be called dad, and that scared him.

How is he supposed to be a dad? He didnt exactly have a good example growing up. It was something to get used to for sure, but you always gave him the choice to talk and ask them to stop.

You really became a little family, a life without Daryl seemed impossible now.

When Daryl was out on runs he always looked for stuff for you and your kid, it helped that Carl enjoyed to share his comics, or as he said, "infect them with comics."

Your cell had a blanket covering the door, Daryl loved you, didn't hide or deny that he was yours, but he didn't want just anyone to see him so vulnerable.

Your kid, that was one of Daryl's favourite phrases now but you'd never hear it come from his mouth, but it was clear when his smile just slightly raised everytime it was said.

Your kid never left Daryl alone if they could stay together, somehow convincing him to carry them around on his hip or shoulders

If you'd told Daryl before the apocalypse he'd have his own little happy family, he'd have probably taken it as some sort of mockery.

And now he wouldn't change anything, even if it took the world ending to find his new world.

[piastrinorris]

What Are Friends For?

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!Reader

Genre: smut

Tags: Stranger Things (series), 18+ (MINORS DNI), oral (m receiving), handjob (m receiving), masturbation (f receiving),

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: A late night post-Truth or Dare chat with your best friend has you admitting your own lack of experience, sexually. Thankfully, he's more than happy to tutor you.

A/N: finally got inspo for one of my wips! just another 12 to go 🙃

As Nancy and Robin work together to drag a near-catatonic Eddie out of Steve's living room, you nudge the party’s host’s foot with your own. “Alright, Harrington, truth or dare?”

He chuckles, “Seriously? Still? We’re the only two people left, right now.”

You shrug, “’M not ready to go home, yet. Unless you’re really willing to turf out your best friend onto the cold, dark streets of Indiana?” You look at him, doe-eyed, and he laughs again.

“Okay, fine, I’ll bite. Truth.”

“Who’d you lose your V-card with?” you ask plainly, and Steve, halfway through a sip of his drink, chokes on it.

“What the hell! Remind me who it was that insisted on the ‘nothing sexual’ rule when we started playing?” he sputters out.

You shrug, “Around the others, sure, but I’m curious. It’s like, the one thing we never talk about.” 

Steve sighs in defeat. “It was… Tina Langdon. At that party on the last day of sophomore year. The one you wouldn’t go to.”

“Couldn’t,” you correct him, “I was ill, remember?”

He scoffs, “Please, you were fine all day, you can’t fool me, you just chickened out!”

“This isn’t about that,” you shake your head, feeling yourself get flustered.

Steve grins slowly. “Yeah, it is! I know you, you were getting some heavy hints from… Who was that guy, oh my god, this is gonna bug me…” He falters, rubbing his jaw in thought.

"Greg Patowski," you mutter.

"Greg Patowski," he repeats in a reminiscent tone, shaking his head and looking up as he waves his finger up and down. "Alright, 'fess up, your turn now. Who was yours?"

Your cheeks burn hot. "Steve!"

He grins wickedly at you. "C'mon, dishing out what you can't take? That's not like you! You started this!"

After a moment, you bashfully murmur, "It was… It - you just…" Steve still looks at you with anticipation, so you blurt out, "It was Greg, okay?!" He scoffs in disbelief. "He - it was that night, too, actually. He came over from the party to 'check on me', we made out on my bed, it… went further. He was in the room and out again within ten minutes," you admit with a scowl.

Steve's jaw drops in shock. "Are you serious?!" You nod. "Who el-"

"No! My turn to ask now." You take another moment to compose yourself before asking, "W-what's your favourite, like, part of it?"

"Sex?" he asks, and you nod. He blows a long breath out before eventually answering, "Probably the stuff before it. Like head, god. Giving it? Hell, yeah. Getting it? I swear, I don't care what else happens," he throws his head back and smiles wistfully.

Shuffling in your seat, you ask, "H-how did you know what to do?"

"Hm?" Steve asks, and you die a little internally as the thought of repeating yourself, though it seems as though he's heard you. "Oh, well, Tina was, as you know, the grade above us, so she was already more… Experienced, and that helped a lot. She pretty much told me where to go and what to do." He shrugs. 

You're already nervous enough about having to explain yourself to him, when Robin and Nancy reappear at the doorway. "Hey," Nancy calls, making you jump. "Uh, we threw Eddie into one of the guest rooms. Rob and I are just gonna head home, now."

Steve frowns, "You carried him all the way upstairs? I could've done that for you!"

Robin glares at him from under her brow. "What, because two poor, defenceless young women couldn't handle it on their own?" She gives you a look which you silently translate and respond by punching Steve in the arm, which makes Robin laugh, "Nice. See you kids around!"

"Night!" Nancy calls after her before they both head out the front door.

Steve rubs his arm and pokes your shoulder. "So, Jumpy McPuncher."

"Good one," you deadpan, and he laughs.

"C'mon, spill. What's got you so worked up?"

"Well…" you start hesitantly. "You know I was telling you about the guy who's been kinda flirting with me at work?" Steve nods. "I was, uh, thinking of asking him out, but then I was thinking about the bigger picture, and how eventually that's gonna lead to - to, y’know, possibly sleeping with him, and I was wondering how to make it… Enjoyable, since I don't really know how to…" you falter through the end of your sentence, and Steve frowns.

"You've… Been with others since Greg, right?" You shake your head, and he looks at you incredulously. "What?! You've dated people since then!"

"Dated, sure, but I'd make up some shit about not being ready for a commitment before it got to that point," you admit quietly. 

Steve nods slowly, with a thoughtful frown. "Okay. So… You wanna learn how to please a guy?" You nod bashfully and his nod quickens as he hops up onto the couch you'd been leaning against. "Alright."

You look at him in confusion. "W-what are you -?"

He takes some pillows off of the couch and hands them to you. "For your knees," he explains.

"Are you…?" You ask quietly.

"Offering myself as your test dummy? Sure, if it'll help you out," Steve's reply is so casual. "That is, of course, if you want, don't feel like you have t- oh, okay," he smirks as you tentatively unbutton his jeans.

You snap your hands back into your lap in embarrassment. "Oh, sorry, did you want to do that?"

"No, no, if… If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, we really don't have to," he studies you with concern, but you shake your head.

"No, I… I want to. This is the best case scenario, right? I can learn, and not worry about disappointing - not that I don't care what you think, but like, you're you, you know?"

He smiles warmly. "Sure am, and you're you. And I'll guide you on what to do, but you gotta be confident with it, 'kay? Just get going with it, and don't take it personally if I tell you to do something a little different, alright?" You nod, and once again reach to undo his jeans. He shuffles them down to his thighs, and you can see a noticeable bulge in his underwear. "You wanna take it out, or me to, or not yet?"

"Can I…?" You clear your throat, remembering what he just said about confidence. "Can i just touch it over…?" You hold your hand to hover just over his crotch area and he smiles with a nod. The affirmation is oddly calming as you start palming him, and he hums out a soft moan.

"That feels nice," he muses. "Nice and gentle."

He keeps humming with delight as he watches you, and you notice something as you keep palming him. "You're getting hard, already."

"Doesn't take much, right?" he smirks. "Plus, you're doing so well, there."

"I, um… I know you're saying I should take things at my own pace, but I don't wanna take too long, should I take it out now?"

"Go for it," Steve mutters under his breath, still smiling.

You reach beneath the elastic of his underwear, take his shaft in your hand and move it out into view. Your eyes widen and your jaw drops when you see the size of it. "You, uh, you're much bigger than Greg Patowski."

He chuckles, "Good to know. Still wanna keep going?"

You nod, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "Yeah. So, what do I do from here?"

"Whatever you feel like doing," he shrugs. "You can use your lips and kiss it, or use your tongue and lick it, or you can get straight onto putting it on your mouth. I promise you, as long as it feels good for you, it's gonna feel good for me, too."

You study his member for a few seconds before tentatively licking along his length. He lets his head loll against the back of the couch. "Oh, god, yes. That feels so good. Mmm, and you look good doing it, too," he muses as he looks at you. You look up at him and chirp in questioning affirmation, and he bites his lip. "So good. You know, if you really wanna tease them, you can push your whole mouth against it without wrapping your lips arou- oh, fuck, just like that," he groans as you lean into your motions.

You sit back on your heels to frown, "But if I do that, there's still so much that I can't fit."

"So there is," he raises his eyebrows. "Why don't you try spitting into your hand and getting to work on the rest of it?"

After spitting into your palm, you smirk up at him. "Oh, you want me to get to work?"

He's about to give you an equally smug response when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock and start working it. "Fuck, yes, there you go, just keep touching m- mmfff," he moans. "God, see? You're a natural."

Still stroking him, you experimentally run your tongue around his swollen mushroom tip, to which he grips the cushions next to him oh-so tightly. You finally wrap your lips around his member and sink down onto it as much as you can.

He moans so loudly that he brings the couch cushion up to his mouth to bite down on it. It makes you instinctively hum around his cock, which makes him squirm and whine more. You pull back again to look up at him in awe, and he asks, "What? Surprised that I'm moaning, or that you're able to make me?

"A little of both," you admit bashfully, and he sits back, spreading his legs further as he leans back. 

"Well, when you're doing such a good job, of course I'm gonna," he smirks.

"S'pose I've got a good teacher, huh?" You raise your eyebrows as you jerk him off.

He shakes his head, "Can't take credit for that, baby, this has all been you. Though, if you want a little guidance, why don't you try sucking your cheeks in while you're down there?"

You happily take him back into your mouth, revelling in his moans as he encourages you. Every ounce of praise he gives you tingles that shoot to your core, and every instance of him calling you a good girl has you light-headed.

You try and sneak your hand between your thighs, but it doesn't go unnoticed. With a chuckle, Steve asks, "You good?"

You whine, "Y're not… Th'only one who's… Enjoying this."

His smug expression stretches into a full-blown grin. "Yeah? You wanna touch yourself? Go ahead."

"Is this good? The right thing to do?" You ask as you reach inside your panties, face melting with pleasure as you finally make contact with yourself.

"Fuck, yes, baby, you look so fucking hot down there, getting yourself off to - what is it, huh? You like the praise? The moans? Or do you just really like having my cock in your mouth?"

That's the real answer, right at the end. You've never especially wanted to get this intimate with anyone, not even that one flirty customer you'd thought about asking out, but now there's only one person you ever want to be thus close with.

But he's your best friend. He's doing this in the name of helping you overcome your anxieties, that's all. You can't jeopardise what you've got with him.

"All of it," you whimper out, briefly looking over to glance at his fingers to allow yourself to imagine them as you sink your own inside you, getting back to sucking him off, making sure you hollow your cheeks every now and again like he told you.

With his moans, you lose yourself in the moment of imagining him touching you that as you hook your fingers inside of you, you instinctively keel over, sinking yourself further down on his cock. Steve lets out a long, stuttered groan at that. "Fucking shit, baby, y'almost got me in whole, god, wanna fuck the rest of me into you, too." You whine around him and he tuts, "Don't think you're ready for that, yet. You're gonna gag, and I don-"

You push yourself even further down, trying desperately to ignore your gag reflex, and he throws his head back to moan, "Fuck, yes, good girl! Such a good girl, taking all of that fucking cock, and holding it there, all while touching yourself, fuck. You're so hot, y'know that? Oh, fuck, baby, you need to breathe, c'mon," he reminds you softly, pushing you away. "That's it, oh, look at all that drool," he simpers, wiping the spit from your chin.

"Do… Do people like that? Seeing all… This?" You gesture towards your face, and he shakes his head.

"Don't know, don't care, doesn't matter. I fucking love it," he groans as you wrap your hand around his shaft again, stroking him all the way from base to tip. "Oh, shit, you really are a fucking natural at getting me off, baby. You gonna get us both off at the same time, yeah?" You nod, and his face contorts with his impending climax. "Fuck, get that mouth back on me, I wanna feel your moans against my cock coax the cum right outta me."

Not needing to be told twice, you happily comply, making sure you try to moan around him as much as possible. He strains out another moan, gasping out, "Fuck, so… So proud of you, look at you. Taking me so well, looking so fucking good touching yourself. Such a good little student, 'm gonna teach you so much more. How a real man eats you out, how a real man fucks you, fuck, so much for you to learn. Y'want that, baby? Tell me. Tell me with my fucking cock in your mouth."

"Wan' y'to hh-fuck me, hh-so bad," you whine, not moving, and he groans.

"You're so fucking cute when you talk with your mouth full, baby. Aww, you gonna do it? You gonna make me cum in that pretty little mouth of yours?" he groans, and you rub at your clit rapidly. "That's my good girl, fuck, look up at me with those eyes, so sweet, so sexy, while you get us both off, c'mon, baby, you can do it, atta girl."

The impending desperation in his tone mixed with his words finally sends you over the edge, moaning shrilly around his cock as you feel your orgasm press deeper than anything's ever felt before. You practically see spots as you squirt all over your fingers, trying desperately to stay focused on keeping Steve's cock in your mouth long enough to take all of his load, swallowing everything as he gives it to you.

He breathes deeply as he comes down from his high, smiling blissfully as he sits forward, cradling your face in his hands. His large, thick-fingered hands. He licks his lips to speak when the wet patch on the pillow you'd been sitting on distracts him. "Holy shit, did you squirt?!" You look up at him and shrug, and he strokes his thumbs against your cheeks. "From now on, I'm making that happen for you, 'kay?"

"So, you meant it? You'll keep teaching me?" You ask hopefully.

"In a ways," he shrugs. "I'll keep showing you what real pleasure feels like… But not for some… Guy who shows up at your work sometimes. Sure as shit not for some Greg Patowski type. I'm. Here to please, you. Got that?" 

You nod, licking your lips, a hint of a smile tickling at you. "Real hung up on Greg still, huh?"

"Yeah, well, it should've been me," Steve admits. "I wanted to make my move that night, but then Patowski bounced early, and everyone was talking about how he was bragging about how he was gonna seal the deal with you. And so, my young and stupid self went and drowned my sorrows with Tina."

You chuckle softly. "You know, when I heard knocking at my window that night, I really hoped it would be you. Always dreamt of you sneaking in through my window and having your way with me. But I like this better."

"You do?" he asks, leaning closer.

"Yeah. You were right, about getting with someone with more experience." You shuffle yourself closer to him, further between his legs, letting go your arms rest around his hips. "'Cause now you've definitely ruined other men for me."

He grins, pulling you up and scooping you I to his lap before grabbing you by the back of your neck and kissing you fervently. "You wrecked me a long time ago, baby. Glad to see you're finally catching up."

[ladykailitha]

The latest in the Steddie brain rot, so you now those crossword thingies where they say the first three words use see are x (your love life for the next year, your new year's resolutions, stuff like that)?

There was one for fan fiction, the words I saw were enemies to lovers, historical, and time travel.

I'd link to it but FB refreshed and I lost it.

But buckle up, babes, we're going in for a ride.

Hawkins has always been hell. There was no denying that. Eddie in 1983 isn't sure he's going to graduate high school. Yes, he knows it's only October, but school really sucks.

All the bullshit with his dad and trying to make life suck just a little less, he accidentally stumbles on a Gate. But not to the Upside Down. At least monsters he handle (not really, but he's trying to be brave), but snobbish upper class in the middle ages? Yeah, that's going to be a problem.

Like he knows how to talk and how to act, he's be researching the hell out of that stuff since he was a kid.

He doesn't know how to get back , so he kinda wings it and becomes a traveling minstrel. Like it pays decently enough and people will talk to him.

Then he hears of a little princeling who hasn't smiled since his mother died and King Richard is willing to pay a handsome sum to whoever can make the prince smile.

Eddie decides to take up the challenge. If he can get into court, then he have more of ear to the ground to be able to get back to his own time.

The initial audition does NOT go well. The king doesn't like him and the prince is in different.

So Eddie runs his mouth. It really should have gotten him killed or at least thrown in jail, he calls the prince a couple of rather choice insults. And holy fuck, the Prince smirks.

It's not a smile, it should have not counted as one. But the king does. He tells Eddie, now named suitably Edwin (yes he knows his parents named him Edward, but Edwin seemed older somehow), that he now has 30 days to turn that smirk into a real smile as that is when the ball for the Prince to chose his bride and he can NOT have a dour son.

Eddie gets thrown into the Prince's room and is told to stay there until after the ball.

And now he's pissed. That was not the plan. He needs to find a way to get back home. To running water, heated buildings, and flushing toilets.

Dressing up is one thing, D&D is another, but this is Hell. What he wouldn't give to go back to the hellscape that was Hawkins High.

The prince he's learns is named Stephan, so piss him off Eddie calls him Stevie.

The two are hostile to each other. Steve doesn't want the ball, he doesn't want to laugh or smile. He wants to mourn his mother in peace, thank you very much. Which pisses Eddie off. He didn't get the luxury of mourning his mom, and he was much younger than Steve. Dude is nearly twenty. Grow up.

They start snapping and sniping at each other. But close proximity to each other starts to wear off their sharper edges, and they learn to tolerate each other, then like each other.

Then just two days before the deadline, Eddie makes Steve laugh. The King is overjoyed and now Eddie feels terrible. He forgot the price to be paid for making Steve was laugh was to lose him.

As he's packing up to go, a duchess named Eleanor slips into his room and tells him she knows he's from the future and she knows how to get him back. He needs to stay at the castle. So she "hires" him as her personal bard.

Steve is surprised and happy to know that he's still around. The ball comes and he's introduced to a lot of beautiful, rich, well connected women. Lady Christine from France, Duchess Tamera from Russia, Countess Annaka from Germany, and Marchioness Martina of Italy. (Am I borrowing from my other medieval story? Maybe a little. Shush!)

Steve is forced to wait on these women hand and foot, all the while his cousin, the Thomas, the Duke of Hagan is cozying up to King Richard, making an all to obvious bid for the throne.

Lady Eleanor has figured out how to get Eddie home, but Eddie doesn't want to leave without Steve, so he tells him who he really is. Steve wants to believe him , but it's so fantastical.

He starts packing up a bunch of his clothes, his mom's jewelry, and some trinkets from his past that he wants to keep. He has about three bags full and Eddie is getting antsy.

Steve runs into Lady Christine and tells her he's running away and she can either move to the side, or he's going to have to tie her up and gag her. Because he will not be stopped.

She winks at him and runs to the opposite direction Eddie and Steve are going and starts screaming there is an intruder in the castle.

All the guards go rushing to her, leaving the path Steve and Eddie need to travel free.

They get to the gate and Lady Eleanor shoves an scroll into Steve's hand, telling him that all she asks in payment is that when the time comes, when meets a little girl named Jane, with extraordinary powers to give her the scroll. It will help her end the troubles once and for all.

They jump through the gate and they land in the forest behind Forest Hills, just three days from when Eddie left.

Eddie does not graduate that year, because he's too busy teaching his boyfriend modern life and dealing with actual fucking monsters, who knew?

Steve gives Eleven the scroll when he learns her real name is Jane and she has so many questions, but with the information Lady Eleanor gave her, she can completely collapse the entire system. Return it to just a place where nightmares come from and not actually evil.

It takes a lot of effort and some major team ups, but she does it. The Upside Down is no more.

Eddie keeps asking Steve what he's going to with the stuff he brought with him, until Steve sells one of the trinkets to a museum and gets serious money from it. Steve explains that historians are the same no matter the era. You show them something that will blow theories out of the water and they will eat that shit up.

And they live happily ever after.

A lot of museums come calling but after learning about vaults hundreds of feet below their building, hiding treasures from the world out of greed, he will only sell to earnest collectors and small well funded museums that he in turn donates to.

Steve also learns Thomas and Christine married but he died shortly procuring an heir and she took over as regent making her the best queen they ever had.

[bloop-bl00p]

Rewriting Charlie: The Princess of Hell

(Using a GIF from the pilot before that’s the only version I like)

I didn't like Charlie in the series not only does she suffer from the terrible conditions of being a female character in a show belonging to Vivziepop but her overall innocence doesn't make sense to me.

I can understand why she would be naive and all that stuff, she probably got heavily sheltered. While we don’t know what her relationship with Lilith is, Lucifer cares enough about her to know that Hell is a dangerous place for a kid. An adult version of her would be aware of Hell being full of dangerous people but would still be vulnerable to extremely good manipulators like Alastor. That’s how her character felt to me when I watched the Pilot.

But then Vivziepop decided to give her a concussion.

It’s not cute or funny, she’s a grown adult and still acts like a child that just freshly got out of the womb. I can understand the optimism, she worked really hard on her project and things are finally starting to set in motion even with a few highs and lows.

But seriously, episode 4 pisses me off, she didn't try to do anything to stop Valentino. Not only did she not listen to Angel Dust who was visibly scared, but she also did nothing when he came out of the dressing room with a black eye. That’s not miscommunication that’s brain damage, the girl was dropped as a baby and her cerebral haemorrhage never stopped.

“But Angel stopped her🥺”

And? She’s the princess of Hell, surely she realizes that the only reason Angel did that was because Valentino told him to do so, surely she understands that the only way she could assure Angel's safety and make sure he followed through with his redemption was to remove Valentino and possibly the other Vees from the equation? Right?

She could rip the contract! She can’t? Well, get your father involved! I’m pretty sure an angel, fallen or not, can do something about a petty contract between two sinners, otherwise, it’s time to actually explain to us how this whole deal and soul-owning work.

Or better, she could simply kill Val, you know? Because Angel isn’t his only victim and killing him would free countless souls from his abuse. She obliviously cares about other sinners, no matter how despicable they are. Wait, what do you mean she’s against violence?

Girl can clearly fight and get violent if necessary, and the Pilot is still canon. Don’t you dare tell me this specific part of her isn’t cannon anymore, you either make a pilot entirely cannon or you simply remake it to fit your new vision? Unless you wanna confuse people.

If I had no other option to protect a friend, and possibly protect other people, Valentino would have been long gone. What are the other Vees gonna do? Be mad? I’m the Princess of Hell if my hair gets touched, Lucie gonna get angry. And if they touch my friend, well, they are dead.

✦ Meet Lenore, they are non-binary

The relationship between Lilith and Samael is open, they aren't married a concept way too holly for hell. It’s quite rare for the two to find themselves in the same place for more than a couple of hours, let alone spending the whole night alone. That’s why Lenore is a such special case since they actually are Samael’s child.

They were born around the early 17th century and visited Earth all the way through the early 18th century to late 19th century, they’re 413 years old making them the youngest of Lilith’s children.

Lenore was not raised by Lucifer of Lilith but by a group of sinners nicknamed Lilith’s Daughters or Lilins. They are women under Lilith’s jurisdiction. I’ll talk about them when I’ll talk about Lilith.

✦ Personality and goals

I pretty much did my own character at this point since Lenore shares little similarities with Charlie, like very little. Their most prominent default is their superiority complex, Lenore is the only child of Samael which makes them pretty powerful by default. They were seen in high regard by the members of society and each expected them to somehow fully bring Hell into this new marvelous era of prosperity.

After centuries of being constantly told that their ancestry made them superior to most, Lenore eventually started to believe it. They won’t directly tell you that you’re weaker, it’s mostly communicated through their behavior and how condescending they can sound when talking to Imps or Sinners compared to royalties.

They also like to flaunt their knowledge over a vast subject of things like witchcraft, which they learned during their childhood with the Lilins. And while yes, they are pretty smart, they still fell to the massive anti-heaven propaganda, essentially believing that The Trinity is this overly powerful dictator and that Hell is the only way you can get away from his wrath… partially. While they do ask lots of questions, questions they learned to keep to themselves, the Authoritarian God is an idea that was fed to them since childhood. It’s hard to see it in another way. No, Lenore doesn’t care that much about Heaven nor do they care about the sinners of Hellborns.

So why a sanctuary? To separate themselves from their parents of course! Familial bonds in the Dawnherald family are really weak, especially considering they grew up with an absent father. Lilith just allowed them to have a portion of land in Limbo after countless requests.

Lenore wants to build their own legacy and something intently better than the kingdom of their parents, first because they don't want to live in their shadow. The praises coming from being their child comes with the price of always being seen as such, just the offspring of two important figures which they don’t want, and second because the foundation of how Hell works is boring. Fears and hopelessness were how Samael and the Fallen Angels imposed their supremacy onto the inferior who were the sinners, while it worked and kept working, Lenore with their ego felt like they could control the population better by weaponizing something rare in Hell, kindness.

In the sinners’ eyes, Heaven abandoned them, Hell is merciless to the weak and there’s Lenore. The one that actually cares, the one that feeds and protects them, their savior. Even if they never see the pearly gate, they sure can feel safe in this false Haven provided by them, how benevolent.

They created a whole persona to hide their true intention, voluntarily creating this reputation of being an inexperienced princet to be able to manipulate gullible people with more efficiency. The more people would underestimate them the more convenient it is for them. The sanctuary is here to test multiple of Lenore’s ideas on how they could change rulership in Hell for the better.

“Everything for the people nothing by the people.”

This is the core of how their sanctuary function, you will get to the safety of a shelter, food, and basic civil rights as long as you obey. This is not a utopia but what Hell has the best to offer, sinners always try to find better options to survive, and the sanctuary just happens to be that. All that is asked from them is obedience and bringing something useful to the community.

This refusal to give any form of agency to their protégé stems again from their Pride and desire to control everything, they simply cannot see themselves outside of a leadership role.

Everyone in Hell sees this as a temporary means, an endeavor they would immediately stop the second they are promoted to be more active in Hell’s politics. Hell thrived with the chaos that occurred because of the harsh life conditions, suddenly changing the system just because one of Lilith’s spawns is pretending to have a ‘better alternative’ would be ridiculous. It is clear that most people see their sanctuary on a surface level and mostly see it as this place where sinners and others are fully free of their movements.

✦ Family

Sheesh! That’s not really a sensitive subject since their interaction with their parents is almost non-existent. Their siblings also seem to not want to have anything to do with them, the feeling is shared.

They never saw Samael in person but they are mostly curious about him. They only know him through history books telling the Tale of this ancient Morningstar finally realizing his self-worth and fighting against the tyranny of the Trinity. It’s easy to pick up the fact that their father holds dear his self-importance, they relate, in a way, but their interest doesn’t go beyond a historian being curious about an unknown historical figure. They never met him, it’s better to not make assumptions.

One question still lingers in their mind… what could drive such a well-respected being to turn away from The Trinity in such drastic ways? The point of dictatorship is to make sure everyone is perfectly indoctrinated into the regime, how did their father, after millennia of servitude randomly pick up on this? These are obliviously questions that they shouldn’t ask and, for the sake of maintaining appearance, it’s best to search the response on their own. At best, they’ll be totally reasonable answers, at worst they’ll find something that they were not meant to see.

Ah, Mother Lilith, they have seen her in person and often have little weekends with her. A charming individual, indeed, they would love her even more if it wasn't for being constantly told to give up on their silly little games with sinners. While they did make up a naive persona for the rest of Hell to be fooled, the fact that their own mother doesn’t take them seriously is appalling to witness.

Lilith is the active ruler of Hell with a handful amount of right-hand men/women if it wasn’t for their pride Lenore would have begged to be put in a position that would allow her to change Hell’s policy. Something they always manage to bring up, even during eventful tea times, those are rare their mother is always busy. The woman is still fun to converse with as she holds wisdom from more than 10 centuries of existence, it’s always useful.

✦ Details

✧ The reason why Lenore doesn’t have a much more important roles in Hell’s hierarchy is because they are young by Hell’s standard.

✧ Right now, Lenore isn’t trying to form any meaningful relationship, they’ll end up with Vaga nonetheless. I did not think of a specific sexuality for them honestly so feel free to fill the void with your headcannon if you want.

✧ Lenore’s a witch, while I’m probably going to go on a magical fantasies type of witchcraft, I’ll still have a few actual things that are actually practiced by actual witches. Plus there are a few practices that can be useful for the story.

✧ Them finding out about redemption and even wanting to do it in the first place is established much later.

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

I can’t get this thought out of my head.

CoD ML

The taskforce has gotten used to Ghost saying “Can’t wait to get home to the missus.” It came as a surprise at first because he’s not the best, if not the downright worst, at expressing his emotions. Nonetheless, they’ve gotten used to the phrase and any other variation of it.

However, no one was prepared for this time. “Finally going home to my lady and the kids.”

Kids?

KIDS?!

When did this happen? Simon didn’t mention you were pregnant and neither did you. John is absolutely baffled because surely you would’ve told him since he’s the second to know this type of stuff. After all, he’s the closest to you after your man.

Soap is overjoyed, already fancying himself the fun ‘uncle’ and congratulating his mate. “Didn’t think you’d ever be a father, Ghost, but look at ye! I do hope your daughters get the looks from their bonnie mother. Unless you’re handsome.”

“We had this convo before, McTavish. I’m quite handsome.”

“I still don’t believe ye.”

Kyle is absolutely gobsmacked, but keeps it at a polite “congrats, sir”.

Little do any of them know the ‘kids’ have four sturdy legs, whiskers, and gorgeous thick fur. You’ve even deemed them the most handsome fluffy children of the neighbourhood.

Simon and you adopted two Norwegian Forest Cats before he had to leave on deployment, named Ragnar and Rollo. He wasn’t a fan of the names at first, but agreed to them to please you. Then again, he’d let you pick the names for your children if you ever decide to start a family.

Until then, this is more than enough.

Simon quietly slips beneath the covers beside you. It’s a bit of a struggle to manoeuvre his large frame around your two sons, who are quick to pounce on their father and loudly start purring.

“You’re back,” you drowsily murmur, awoken by Ragnar’s and Rollo’s sonorous purrs. Your subconscious registers his presence so you instinctively turn onto your side and snuggle up to him. “Should’ve said you’d come. Would’ve-“

He kisses your forehead. “Shh, go back to sleep.”

He knows you’d have shown up at the airport. You always do since he usually lets you know in advance whether he’s home bound and at what time he expects to be back in England. However, tonight was a very late flight though the shift in time zones made it a very, very early morning one.

Whatever the case, Simon would rather you stay at home, in bed with your sons, than be out in the dark. If he could, he’d forbid you to go out in the evening after sunset unless you’re taking him with you. Fortunately, despite never having explicitly agreed nor have it actually mentioned, you’re of one mind when it comes to that. After all, it’s hard to miss the posters and flyers against sexual assault and intimidation of women.

And you do feel safer when Simon’s with you.

Vice versa is also the case. Indeed, your big burly bastard of a man shares the sentiment.

He’s been doing a lot of mental work recently to work on his emotional intelligence. One thing that’s been helping a lot in opening up and trying to form connections, well, an even deeper connection to you (he’s not a people person so you’re pretty much the only one he talks to outside the taskforce) is gaming.

Yup, Simon Riley is a gamer.

A massive Assassin’s Creed fan too. This is a hill I will die on, you can’t convince me otherwise.

So imagine his surprise when after breakfast you slip a present across the table to him. How his eyes light up, the delight banishing the suspicion that cast a darkness over them, when he sees you bought him a special edition of AC: Mirage. Little does he know you placed a pre-order the moment he told you Ubisoft was coming out with a new game in the franchise.

“Thought you might like this. As a ‘welcome home’ prezzie,” you say, hiding the smile spreading on your lips behind your coffee mug.

“Thank you, love.” He stands up and walks over to your side. You get up too, arms outstretched in anticipation of one of his rare bear hugs. In spite of his stone cold persona, Simon seems to radiate heat whenever he’s home. So you stand there for a few moments, simply enjoying the feel of his arms around you.

After cleaning up and changing into a pair of sweats, he turns the PS5 on. Ragnar and Rollo plop down on the couch on either side of the both of you, freshly returned from their habitual morning stroll around the yard. You snuggle up to Simon, basking in his warmth while watching him play.

A perfect lazy family day.

[secretkinkz]

Can u write where it’s a age gap between Toji and reader. Where Toji is toxic, manipulative, mean to the reader and is sleeping around with other women or girls and reader doesn’t know until she checks his phone since it’s buzzing like crazy (Toji in the shower washing off one of their perfume) and reader sees them sending pictures and reader is crying and started packing when Toji is done taking a shower he doesn’t see her (reader) and sees that his phone is open and 1 week later goes to see reader. When he sees reader he gets her in bed and manipulates her and says all the good things about the other girls when he was sleeping with them.

You don’t have to I just thought of that. I love reading ur stories 🥰

Another request that I didn't see 😭, But baby. Y'all are giving some good requests. Okay so, I tried to understand what you wanted as much as I could. Here ya go sweetie..

~~~

MODERN AU

Warnings, not many: Cheating, mentions miscarriage, Manipulation, age gap (19/32) and, fem pov!

You lay in bed scrolling on your phone slowly, watching the adventures your friends go on.

They finished high school a year ago, some of getting married, or having kids, or just living the single dream. While you, on the other hand..

You were living with your boyfriend. Your parents kicked you out for getting pregnant by an older man.

"He wasn't good for you, he was abusive, toxic and controlled your mind."

Even as you begged them not to do this, they did it anyways.

They had plans for your future, plans you didn't know about but assumed you would go along.

Of course after you got kicked out, your boyfriend invited you live with him.

After 4 months of living together, you suffered a miscarriage. Toji blamed you, told you that you should've taken better care of yourself. He loved that baby, yet you let it slip between your fingers.

Cutting through your thoughts was the sound of Toji's phone buzzing rapidly. This was the 4th time it went off. Maybe it was an emergency..

You grab his phone and unlock it, looking at the messages.

{Hey, last night was great! I hope we can do it again, but not this week... I'm still a little sore. You're so big.. Here's a pic I took while thinking about you, enjoy.}

Your dry became dry, unable to stop scrolling you stare at the picture the woman sent. Her in lingerie, her... Breast...

You slam the phone down for a moment, trying to calm your racing heart.

There's no way Toji was.. cheating on you. You refuse to believe it.

You pick up the phone once again, going through all of the messages. There were multiple women, the majority of them knew about him being in a relationship.

They know about my miscarriage, he seeked comfort from them. The weeks he left me... He was busy being in the arms of another woman..

You place your hand over your mouth, muffling your cries. You had to leave, even if you had nowhere else to go. You couldn't stay here, not with Toji.

You stand up and quickly stuff your things into a suitcase, sobbing while doing so.

You had enough money for 9 days in a motel, that should do. Closing the suitcase, you quickly leave.

It wasn't long before Toji finished his shower and stepped into the bedroom, looking around. He stared at the scattered clothing on the floor in confusion.

"Y/n, what the fuck is up with the mess?" He called out, drying his hair as he reached for his phone.

Toji mentally cursed himself seeing Sabrina's message open.

He rushed downstairs, calling your name but there was no response.

"Fuck!"

~~~~

A week passed, you were struggling to get a job for a while but managed to get one at a diner. You had two days until you had to checkout, you could manage being homeless until your paycheck. You had a car, there was a free shower nearby and you could wash clothes at the cleaners.

As you were brushing your hair, there was a knock at your door. Room service?

You open the door, but once you see Toji you attempt to slam the door shut but he puts his foot in the way. "Fuck!' he hissed, kicking the door open. You fall on your butt as the door swings back and hits you right in the nose.

"Come back home." Toji shut the door behind him as he walked in.

"How did you find me?" You cried, backing away from him. "Location, you stupid fuck. I gave you time alone, now come back"

"You cheated on me, told them about the miscarriage.. I'm not coming back." You hiccuped, as he towered over you. His eyes seemed to be pitched black right now, he was pissed.

Toji gripped my arm and pulled you to your feet. "I love you, Y/n. They didn't mean anything. I-I had to cope. You were broken... So I sought comfort elsewhere. For just a moment, I promise. I never wanted to hurt you. Can't you see, baby?" He kissed you, rubbing your back in soothing motions. "Don't leave me. You're mine, I'm yours. They were a one time thing."

His thumb grazed your cheek, wiping the tears away. "I need you, okay? I was planning on ending things with them."

You close your eyes, wanting to believe his words. But you knew they weren't true. "You're lying, if you really loved me. You wouldn't have done it in the first place."

Toji's jaw tightened for a moment.

"Y/n, don't be like that.. Fuck, I really love you. But I was vulnerable.. I regret my decisions. Forgive me, I'll change."

He kissed your lips, nose, forehead and neck. "Please."

You lean into his touch, tilting your head to the side as he bites your neck gently, while his hand traces the sides of your shorts.

Not muttering a word as he pushed you towards the bed, pulling off your shorts as he kissed your stomach. "We'll try again, if that's what you want."

Soft moans escape as he presses his thumb against your clit, his tongue diving between your folds.

Pathetic, really. You spread your legs for him again, even after his unfaithfulness.

You clench the sheet, arching your back as tears fall from your eyes. Not forgiving him isn't an option, if you leave him then you'll be homeless. You refused to go back to your parents, they turned their backs on you.

You would have one last time with Toji before completely shutting him out of your life, even if it hurt. You couldn't allow him to continue hurting you.

"Don't cry, I'm sorry." Toji whispered, kissing you.

He positioned himself at your entrance, his touch was gentle and sincere.

Whispering loving words as he eased himself inside, moving slowly.

"I love you." "I'll never do it again"

He was my first love, the first person to tell me they wanted me, to touch me, the man I sacrificed everything for.

I thank him for my child, the few months I had with it.

But I can't waste my youth going in circles with him.

The night ended with slow and passionate sex but before the sun rose, I quietly left. Checking out and completely disappearing from the face of the earth.

Starting over, and forgetting about Toji. Even after his spammed messages, telling me I'd never find love. Or someone that will love me like he does.

Good, because that isn't love. It's not what I've seen. It's not like the stories tell it as.

~~~~~~~~

A/n: Zee End 😌❤️

[generalfoolish]

Into Your Arms

Summary: Your life is disrupted after a chance meeting with the 11th street kids, and despite your better sense you find yourself drawn to the chaos.

Pairing: Vigilante (Adrian Chase) x Fem!Reader

Warnings: *All of my works are M for mature so 18+ please; language, language, language, canon typical violence, sexual themes, canon-typical violence, gore descriptions, blood mentions, TW some PTSD related stuff

Word Count: 2.3k

Request: can I please request an Adrian Chase x fem!vet!reader...

a/n: I have the flu! Hope this makes sense 🙈 eep! edited to add the entire tag list

Master List | Tag List Form | Adrian Chase Master List

With tears in your eyes, you stared down the barrel of a gun at the motley group in front of you. They were talking, their voices filling the small space, but you couldn’t make out their words over the roaring in your ears, over the man who was holding that gun and had said without an ounce of remorse that he was planning to kill you.

You’d been intubating an English bulldog when he came in with a busted up eagle–of all things. Your breath stuttered as he raised his voice, the force of it causing him to move the gun. It was funny. You were about to die and all you could think about was that dog in the back. 

Dr. Hurwitz had managed to keep the eagle alive, but it hadn’t been enough for the man in front. He’d kill you all because you’d seen his face. With blurry vision you looked away from the barrel of the gun and at the man himself. He was dorky–in that boy next door way. In a different life, you’d consider him handsome. He reminded you of the goofy labradors you saw each day at the clinic, with his big eyes and soft hair.

Fear gripped your chest, forcing your breath out in small, panicked puffs. You were only dimly aware of Greg, one of the other nurses, whispering at you to “get it the fuck together.” 

“Hey. What the fuck are you saying back there?” The man with the gun asked, looking between you and Greg. 

“Just trying to calm her down; she’s hysterical.” Greg told him, and as if you’d rehearsed it, another sob wracked through you. 

“Oh, god. Are you okay?” One of the women asked, her voice laced with concern.

“Of course not, she thinks she’s about to die.” The other man answered, the one who had come in the beginning with the eagle.

You felt worse than you had before, but now your brain was soaking up the visual information you’d missed. Despite his gun still trained on you, your eyes were drawn to Vigilante–that’s what they had called him. 

“What other choice do we have besides killing this veterinarian, this nurse, this nurse, and this male nurse?”

“You can just say two nurses, man.”

“If I just say “nurse,” I think people will imagine it as a woman.”

“He’s standing right there! We don’t have to imagine anything. 

“It must be weird, waking up every day and being a male nurse.”

“You’re a fucking busboy!” 

“Oh great! Now we definitely have to kill them, because you’re giving stuff away about my secret identity!”

“Do we really have to kill these people?”

The pause of silence was too much for you, the shared uncertain looks between the group. A small whimper left your lips, and you cursed the sound. 

You had higher hopes for yourself than this. You never imagined you’d be in this scenario, of course, but when it came down to it, you’d thought you would be able to handle yourself. Instead, you’d turned into a sobbing fool at the first sign of danger. You weren’t even begging. You just stood there, metaphorically pissing yourself and waiting to die.

You willed yourself to stand straighter, but kept your arms up in the air. You’d die with a bit of dignity, even if you’d had to summon every ounce of courage and self to do so. 

“No,” The blonde began and that was all you needed to deflate completely. The false bravado simply slipped from you as fast as you’d mustered it. The fleeting confidence roared in your ears, drowning the rest of the conversation. You let yourself be jostled around, ziptied, and left in the waiting room of the vet office.

Your life gets simpler after that. You keep working at Dr. Hurwitz’s office; thanks to a considerable bump in pay, for not leaving (re: suing), you were finally able to drive a few hours to the coast for a little relaxation. You heal. The journey is as odd as the day that precipitated it. You settle back into your routine and can watch your regular procedurals–and don’t bat an eye at the guns, violence, and death. But a man talking too loudly at you in the office, his tone mean and cutting, and you’d crumple to tears in the staff room pawing at your phone for the speed dial number of your therapist. 

But it’s good, your life is good because it’s the one you didn’t expect to have. You take nothing for granted, and you spare yourself no criticisms. You learn to love yourself, and the inspiration of finally liking who you are seeps into every facet of your life. You take up photography as a new hobby, and you start going to the gym. It’s there you find a class in self-defense, and though you aren’t kidding yourself about your skill level against some supe, you figure you owe it to yourself to at least learn how to throw a punch.

You’re leaving class one night, taking a gulping sip from your water bottle, admiring the new ache you’d gotten from your sparring partner, when the street goes sideways. You hit your elbow hard, and barely register the clatter of your bottle and bag hitting the street. By the time you catch your breath, the attacker has made himself known. 

For a brief, blinding moment, you don’t move. Your chest is seized, your blood sluggish in your veins. You want to scream, run, fight, but you can’t move your stupid, useless body. A flash of blue, a great clap, and a spray of red followed by the kind of primal scream only the dying can make–and then you were being lifted up. 

Your elbow was a throbbing scream as your feet hit the pavement, right side up.

“You okay?” A man asked, though muffled from beneath a blue and black facial mask, you’d know that timbre and cadence of that voice anywhere. You want to scream, kick, spit–something to show this asshole that you aren’t the same scared girl anymore. But he’s lifted your arm to inspect the damage, and he’s taken his glove off. His touch is so gentle, the softest caress, that you actually answer his insane question.

“Yes.” Your voice is a hushed whisper, though not a scared, timid thing. 

“That was a sucker punch, by the way. You totally coulda kicked his ass.” You hissed as he pressed a particularly tender spot, and though he hadn’t seemed to be paying attention to you, his head snapped up. “That hurt? Oof, yeah. That’s a bitch. Let me take you to the hospital. We’ll take the Vigimobile.” He rambled off, nearly sing-song, and began to tug your other arm behind him. “I’m Vigilante, the car is mine, obviously. D’uh.” He paused only when I pulled back from him.

“What’s up?” He asked, looking around, like there might be a second thug.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” You told him, exasperated. 

“Why not?” His head cocked to the side, and you have to literally shake the image from your head as you remember thinking of him as a labrador.

“Why not?” You echo, your voice nearing hysterical.

“Your elbow is dislocated, at least. Worst case, fractured. I’m the only one here. Your phone is smashed, and you don’t have car keys in your bag.” He lists off items by raising a finger with each point. 

“You tried to kill me four months ago!” You scream at him, throwing your hands up to accentuate your point, remembering the pain in your elbow too late. The sharp pain that slices through your body leaves a fuzzy ring around your vision, and you see Vigilante take a step towards you as the world tilts sideways for the second time of the night. 

You groan as you pull yourself from that inky abyss, and smack your lips against the paper dry feeling of your tongue. 

“Where the hell am I?” You manage to croak out, and the shuffle of feet is the only indication you get that other people are around.

“Hospital.” A man’s voice tells you, and you have the funniest feeling you know the voice. The gentle comfort of that wraps around your delirious mind and pulls you back down.

The next time you awake it’s because of the sun. The windows were left open, meaning that the bright rays of the morning hit you full force. You blink harshly against the intrusive light, and remember being attacked. Fearful of the state of your body, you gingerly begin testing your toes and slowly you work your way up your body. You’re twitching your fingers when a knock at the door startles you. 

You don’t know the person standing in the frame, but you wish you did. He’s holding a balloon, flowers, and a stuffed dog. Confusion paints your face, and he waves sheepishly.

“Hi, you up?” He asks, shuffling closer hesitantly.

“Just barely.” You murmur back, shifting in the bed.

“They gave you a lot of pain medicine last night.” The man tells you. You wish you knew more about this whole bizarre situation. You couldn’t remember anything over the pounding in your head.

“That’s right, because I…” 

“Your elbow. It was dislocated, which is better than a fracture. But you did tear a tendon, which means you’ll be in a sling for a few weeks.” He explains, fidgeting with the stuffed dog.

“Did I have surgery?” You push, figuring he’ll at least answer some questions.

“No, no. I asked them to monitor you overnight.” 

“Why?”

“You…you might not remember me, but we’ve met before. I’m Adrian, and I threatened to kill you once.” You blink at his deadpan, waiting for the punchline. But you know he isn’t joking, somehow. You know him. He’s the one from the vet clinic, the one who saved you from the guy last night.

“Are you stalking me?” You ask, wondering partially if he’s here to finish the job. He laughs, too loudly.

“A little bit. I feel horrible about it.”

“The stalking?”

“No. When I tried to kill you. It was a precaution. But I’ve changed my mind about that. About a lot of things, actually. Anyway, I just wanted to say sorry for all of that, and I hope you feel better soon. I brought you some stuff.” He explains before dumping the stuffed dog in your lap and putting the other stuff on the nightstand. You try not to gape at him.

“Okay, I’m going to head out.”

“You just got here.” You say, surprising both of you. 

“You want me to stay?”

“For some reason, yeah. Would you?” With his eyes wide, he nods and takes the chair beside your bed. 

“How’s the eagle?” You ask, voice soft and unsure. Adrian picks up the conversation easily though and is soon animatedly telling you all about the bird's latest antics. 

You’re not sure how Adrian became such a regular part of your day, but you find yourself waiting for his visit all the same. He doesn’t have a pet, but he comes by the vet clinic and asks for your advice on all his potential pets everyday. He also tells you about his day, his night, and anything else he can think of. When he isn’t talking to you in person, he’s blowing your shit up with memes and weird emojis. 

The idea of seeing him every single day would have made you want to call your therapist before, but after he saved you, his choices began to make sense. Maybe you were making excuses, but he had become such a stable part of your life that you began to love his daily visits. When he missed one, which happened from time to time, you were miserable. He always made up for it, though.

“I’ve got a cinnamon chai for the apple of my eye!” His voice rang out, drawing you from your small cubicle to the front. Your smile grew when you took him in, and his own was full on beaming.

“Adrian, you didn’t have to get me a drink.” You scolded, secretly pleased as you sipped from the steaming cup. 

“Course I did, I wanna do that stuff for you.” He told you bashfully. You wanted those things too, even if it felt insane to consider.

“Actually, I had something I wanted to ask you.” He began, and you watched as his tongue darted out to lick his lips. “Would you wan…I mean, I would like to, if you want to, uhm. Dinner?”

“Sure, Adrian, I’d love to.”

“Sick. I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Okay, seven, it is.” You agree, taking another sip of your drink, and watch as he leaves. He must think you’ve looked away because he fist pumps into the air. You stifle your laugh and go back to work, thinking very hard about what you were going to wear.

@michi-reads @strawberriesandknives @uncle-eggy @fictionlandslanddreams @uwiuwi @lostinwinderland314 @kidd3ath @maplefire18 @zekegorilla @hypnoash @greenxtea0 @myguiltypleasures21 @Goblynnrockz @racetrackheart @ticharluv @likeficsinthewnd

[slowcatsisland]

Black Leg Sanji; Physical Characteristics Headcanons

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His hair was naturally straight but over the course of his time of his Baratie, Zeff has noticed that his hair is more fluffier and wavier than when he first met Sanji.

Some of the small baby hairs he has at the back of his neck curl specifically to his right.

When he’s missing Zeff he’ll put small braids in his hair. They are normally on the side of his head with his eye covered more in the back. He normally does this but once Robin offered to help him and he blushed so hard he couldn’t even respond- he just nodded his head with a smile.

His natural smell is something like cleaning supplies if that makes sense? Like, it’s very faint, it smells clean or like a type of alternative spring water? It stems from the mutations in his DNA.

He also doesn’t have a strong natural musk smell either, you can only smell his armpits and his feet..if ur close enough that is

His scent now though is primarily cigarettes and his cologne. His cologne is rather strong because he gets worried that the cigarette smell isn’t attractive to women (He carries mints bc of this). His cologne smells woody and lavender ish. (He got it from Zeff) BUT he also smells like whatever he cooked that day, especially if the prep took a long time.

His eyes are a grey blue and the blue pops out more when he cries

He’s tried shaving the swirl of his eyebrows, it doesn’t work

His nose is kinda prominent in his face (kinda like his LA Taz Skylar but different) . It looks like what you call a ‘greek nose’. His bridge used to be very straight and it could still be considered straight but it’s been broken by his siblings before so it’s a little larger than it used to be yk? Sora used to kiss up his nose bridge when he would cry around her

His bottom lip is actually pretty full, and he has a habit of chewing on it that swells it slightly and darkens the color too. His lips curls really easily into a smirky, snazzy smile yk? Like-

Dimple on his cheek……dimple….

His face gets flushed so easily when he’s flustered or embarrassed. Zoro has caught him off guard so many times and it always ends up with Sanji yelling with a pink face

He generally has good posture until he’s by himself and he hunches and slouches his shoulders horribly when he relaxes. His good posture stems from Germa, Zeff, and his desire to attract women. When he’s scared because his past (nightmares, talk of Germa, etc) his posture worsens.

He has a good amount of scars from his childhood but his skin fades very easily.

His worst scars are from lightning (Niji, Enel)

His body is more of a vertical rectangle shape. More toned. His legs are the most ripped part of him (obvi) so it sets him up nicely in clothes because his frame never becomes imposing.

I’m looking this stuff up and I think his body would classify as a ‘mesomorph’ type. ?

He is extremely flexible. His back is the least flexible part of him tho ykwim?

I’ve read a theory before that all the Germa kids have the ‘6’ tattooed on their thighs.

I’ve also read a fic before about Sanji having the number 3 tattooed/engraved in his skin that he didn’t know about bc it was on his back or smth until I think Chopper told him

Just thought I’d put that out there..

His hands are literally beautiful. His nails are almost always as short as they can be (bc chef) but they don’t have any scarring at all. He’s also one of those ppl with longer fingers and it helps a lot when he’s cooking’s

He has hips trust!! Yes he uses a belt but only bc it looks good I swear he doesn’t need it he has hips (crying emoji)

His leg muscles are terrifying to look at like they are sooo defined. And big. Def has a clear line that separates his thigh muscles from his quad yk? He can also flex his calve muscles really well.

Bro also has a pretty booty. But it’s all hard and all muscle so not much giggling happens back there lolll

He has ugly feet. I mean the structure is good and if they got broke/bunion they go back to how they were (Germa genes)

He doesn’t take care of them at all. Not even after fighting unless they hurt really, really badly/got injured. Everyday tasks also put stress on his feet because of his dress shoes but he doesn’t prioritize it at all. He’s got lots of blisters and red sore spots.

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I might make this a series this was fun

Mwah 😽