#and i just feel like a scared helpless kid

[gt-abby]

Tiny!Omega AU

“THAT’S Omega?” Wrecker, exclaimed, a little too loud and close for Omega’s little ears. She could feel his breath brushing through her hair, and she shuddered.

“Wrecker…” They heard from behind them. Hunter was pressing his pointer finger and thumb on the bridge of his nose in disappointment. Wrecker wasn’t exactly known for his environmental awareness. “You’re gonna scare her if you lean in so close.” Hunter walked over and pushed the big guy a little bit back.

“So… what happened exactly?” Echo piped up from behind them, walking into the room. They were on the Marauder, after Hunter gathered around everyone to talk about the situation.

“Well, as far as I can tell,” Tech said as he clicked on a few buttons on his datapad, “We have yet to find an answer to this question.” He looked up.

Hunter scooped up his little girl with both of his palms as he held her up to their eye level. She’s never been so high before, since she was the shortest of the bunch. That took on a whole new meaning after Hunter found her on the rocks on the beach of Pabu, after looking for her for hours. Omega scratched the back of her head.

“I only just remember waking up on that rock from a nap when I heard Hunter shout my name…” she said, her voice was too small even for her. They all looked at her as if with question marks over their heads. Those four men were absolutely mountainous, even more so now that she was merely 9 centimeters tall. She cowered in front of them, unable to speak. Hunter seemed to have sensed that. He was good at reading her body language.

“Alright, here’s what we’re going to do now.” He said with his authoritative voice, “Tech, go with Echo to scout out the beach areas for any signs of anything unusual. Wrecker, go get some food. I’ll handle Omega.”

And so, they all left the room, each to their tasks as Hunter placed Omega back on the table and sat across from her, only his head visible above the surface.

“Hunter…” Omega began but couldn’t let any more words out before the tears started spilling out. She was shaking, and Hunter was left baffled, and unprepared.

“Hey, wow, hey, kid, it’s okay-“

She put her head in her hands as she wept, overwhelmed with emotions. Fear, anxiety, the burden of the unknown, all resurfaced once they were alone. He watched her as she let everything out, helpless in the situation of trying to comfort a child in such a bizarre state. Everything he’d been training for, all battle scenarios, survival tactics etc., were nothing compared to this. His little girl that he swore to keep from harm, needed him most, and he could do nothing. He clenched his fists under the table. They too were shaking. But he didn’t let himself break.

Hunter held out his finger and as gently as possible he lifted her tiny little chin so she would look at him.

“Everything will be okay, kid. I promise.”

—-

Here’s a little snippet of my new project. I hope people like this enough to keep reading in the future.

[queervegancryptid]

I have literally never been this hungry or physically exhausted in my life. Which is saying something.

I had to go to the doctor today. This is a rant about that, because if I didn't vent about it, I would fucking explode.

I made pasta and ate some. I didn't have enough sauce but put in a fuckload of nooch for b vitamins. It worked out okay. I could have added a protein but actually, no, I couldn't have. I keep apologizing for being such a colossal fuck-up of a human being, and I keep trying to be better, but we both know this situation is being impacted by its duration so far. In other words, I can't do what I need to do to get better because of how bad things have already gotten.

This is a problem. And I've got chronic pain from what's essentially cachexia by way of eating disorders and a doctor who doesn't get it despite being told over and over again. "Don't tell me my weight." Every time, I find out.

"I have anorexia and have been eating [numbers] calories per day, max, and it's getting worse." My weight has also been dropping, which I literally see on a fucking graph every time I come in, so clearly there's something going on here. I've lost over a third of my body weight since last year. If I wasn't anorexic, I would expect my doctor to raise some serious fucking alarm bells over that amount of unexplained weight loss.

"I get chronic tension headaches since I was a teenager. These are the drugs that help me." He prescribes Imitrex, which is for migraines, and it affects serotonin and shouldn't be taken by people who are also on other meds that deal with serotonin, which I am, another fact of which he should be aware. Because it literally says what I'm taking on the screen in front of him. If I hadn't had the background knowledge I gained through experience and actual academic research, I likely wouldn't have known that. And it isn't the first time he's done this sort of thing. I know what works for my pain. The word "migraine" did not leave my mouth in his presence, and I've told him and the staff dozens of times that I have tension headaches secondary to extremely bad anxiety since I was a teenager. I know what works and what doesn't. I've tried migraine meds for them before, actually. I know that's not what I need. And it could have seriously fucked my brain chemistry, to who knows what effect, at a time when my brain isn't doing spectacular to begin with.

I'm sorry, I'm never like this with anyone whose job it is to perform a service like this for me, but I just wanted to shake him and yell, "Why on earth won't anyone fucking LISTEN?" I kept my cool, but as I continue to try to start eating again, I'm not sure how dulled my emotions will stay. I wouldn't ever put my hands on somebody like that in anger. It's just not me. But I have a feeling the words will come out at a louder volume than they should at some point when I finally lose control of my filter around him. Seems like I should probably just bail before that happens.

Moreover, he doesn't know dick about treating eating disorders and has no intention of learning. I'm used to having to take my doctor by the hand, when it comes to certain things. I'm used to having to tell a story that isn't quite the truth because I know the truth won't get me what I need. In other words, I'm used to having to use a certain amount of finessing and suggestion to influence my medical providers, because otherwise, nothing would fucking happen.

But right now, I need help. I do. And I don't have it in me to teach a doctor what he didn't learn in med school, even if he wanted to know, and I don't think he particularly cares. He likes me and seems to view me as a sort of novelty, due in part to my transness and sense of humor. He does not treat me like a drug addict, like a lot of doctors do when you tell them you need pain medication, but he also doesn't treat me like a patient ought to be treated. He bills my insurance several times a month without doing his actual job as a doctor. So he's literally making money on my problems without understanding or doing anything about them.

He literally started to put bulimia in my chart as a current problem. I explained my symptoms and told him that the diagnosis is atypical anorexia, because I'm not bingeing and purging, one of the most basic of diagnostic criteria for bulimia, if not the foundational one that separates it from anorexia generally. Anorexia can come with purging, but it isn't a requirement the way it is for bulimia.

He said that bulimia should be the diagnosis on account of me not losing menstruation, which hasn't been among the diagnostic criteria for anorexia nervosa in a little while. It was removed from the DSM in (I believe) the fifth edition. And anyway, that wouldn't qualify me for a diagnosis of bulimia in the first place. I know; I've been bulimic. I was bulimic for a long time in my 20s. Sometimes, the patient knows what they're talking about. Also, I take testosterone and don't regularly menstruate. So the question of whether I have amenorrhea makes very little earthly sense, in any way, and I feel like that's pretty fucking obvious.

This is fucking intolerable. I don't know what to do, but I got here by closing my mouth and being accommodating above all else, to protect others, to get along, to save myself the humiliation or pain, and I won't get out of it until I solve the root causes.

I'm so tired of having flashbacks. There's also an age regression factor during and afterwards sometimes lately that's been a little disturbing. I don't particularly want to know what the root cause is behind that one, but clearly it's something that has to be dealt with if I'm starving myself to death over it.

Balls. I have to find a new primary care doc, don't I?

[smolsix]

-blows dust off this blog-

So

Little Nightmares III, huh???

I was trying to avoid being excited about it because no solid release date and 2024 could be a few months from now or a year from now and Idk how long I can handle being so fuckin hyped for this game YEEHAW

BUT I CAN'T, I KEEP THINKING ABT THE GAME AAHAHHGAGA

so here are my thoughts, if you wanted to know

FIRST OF ALL, i am so glad that after we saw LTNM II we thought it'd be co-op but it was just an AI, that we finally get co-op! AND ONLINE TOO, i spent the first day worried it'd be shared screen same room situation since i wasn't trying to get my hopes up but then I realised I can just.. google it.. AND IT IS!!! ONLINE!! IDK WHO I AM GONNA PLAY IT W FIRST AAAAAAAA

anyways, you can definitely tell it's a new studio working on this game, the world feels mostly the same but the character designs themselves are definitely stylistically similar, but not the same. With Six especially, the MC designs were very simplistic and realistic but used colour (or for Mono, a single design quirk being the bag) to stand out against their backgrounds and against the enemies which are largely neutral colours. But these new ones feel... "over designed"? On their own they definitely aren't, but in comparison to Mono, Six, Seven, and even NPCs like the flashlight girl, they have a lot more going on (especially the little wrench kid, Idk which one is Alone and which one is Low yet btw OOP)

Despite it being a new studio and you can tell, new puzzles and environments, they're still doing their best to have the OGs vibes and whatnot to feel familiar, namely in the trailer they bring back the fuses, and the additional gameplay video there's a short scene with an environment with all the shelves you can find in LTNM 1s gnome section (the one with the cart that is affected by the Maws swaying).

But regardless, it still feels different enough my brain is still nervous about it. I also feel In A Way about Tarsier having LTNM II explode and their franchise getting the attention it deserves, only to have it stuck with Bandai and now it's going to likely explode again and they aren't involved. Idk how anyone on that team feels about it, but if it were me omg.

Also the only boss we've seen so far (i hope they add more and i def want some to be a surprise so im not gonna assume this is the only one for now) feels... out of place? it has the design qualities of a LTNM boss, but the size of it makes it more of a spectacle than a warped/corruption of an adult. All the previous bosses fit in their environment, we are the small ones and they are scaled to the world around them. This is the first time, outside monster Six who imo is a bit of an outlier anyways due to her circumstances, we're getting a boss who is this huge and doesn't even fit their own environment. I hope we get a lore reason for this in some way, because currently the boss doesn't have the same vibe as the others and it's throwing me off a bit. Don't get me wrong, it'll be terrifying, but looking at the picture as a whole they are sort of out of place for me rn. I don't hate the bitch either, I'm not gonna be like omg get rid of it or change it, but it does strike me as odd seeing it for now.

And yes the tall man is too tall for a lot of things, but he's not THAT big. He's more like yer tall guy who hits his head off doorways, which happens irl anyways LMAO

Little Nightmares primarily tries to capture the feeling of being a small child and how everything is big and scary, but a doll that huge is out of the realm of reality set up for us already. It's gone from scary corrupted animal to godzilla, if that makes sense.

OH AND THE MIRRORS ARE VERY LTNM COMICS OF THEM TEE HEE < 3

[martyrbat]

batman and superman vs vampires and werewolves #2

[gilligould]

.

[pepprs]

i know i need to shut up abt it esp bc i don’t know for sure if i actually got exposed to covid but like. it’s just so fucking frustrating and terrifying. not just in the case of covid but with other things too like driving. you can take every precaution to keep yourself and the people around you safe but all it takes is one selfish careless asshole who can negate that in a heartbeat and ruin your life or maybe even end it in some circumstances. lol

[tchaikovskym]

Whenever a life change I worked for and looked forward to is going to happen: oh no!

[bl00dw1tch]

depression will literally have you googling "i need something to hope for rn" 💀

[35gofbeansprouts]

💭.

[luveline]

Hiiiiii!!!!!!! I recently got back into criminal minds and devoured all ur hotch fics like a MANIAC (you write. So unbelievably well. Im also in love w ur tasm peter stuff, you are just such a good writer thru and thru) and that one request where Jack calls reader mom for the first time really stuck w me so I was wondering if maybe I could request smth of the opposite? Like not-so-single mom!reader and hotch have been dating for a while and her lil girl calls him dad for the first time :3 🖤🖤

thank you for requesting! 💌 —your daughter calls Hotch dad for the first time. fem, 2k

“Come in, come in!” Hotch says, the door held ajar by his arm, forcing you to squeeze in and save the heat. “Quickly, honey, please, get out of the rain.” 

Sarah bursts in through the door and away from the rain, her vinyl coat covered in raindrops, her boots wet with mud. “Aaron!” she says, pulling it into something softened and excited at once, though her ‘r’s are weak, closer to ‘w’s. “I missed you.” She jumps from one foot to the other. 

He makes sure you’re safely inside before he abandons you. It’s not very kind to you, but he can’t help himself. “Sarah,” he says, without your daughter’s sweetness but heavily fond, “I missed you more, honey. How many days has it been?” 

“Four!” she says, holding up four fingers as Hotch grabs her by the waist. 

He doesn’t mind her wet coat, working an arm around and beneath her to shuck off her muddy shoes. They topple to the ground to unveil damp socks. 

“Oh, no, your socks are wet. I did all the laundry while we were waiting, I have some warm ones for you in the dryer. Should we get you out of this coat?” 

“Where’s Jack?” you ask. 

“Eating. He was starving, couldn’t wait.” 

You kick your shoes off and gather them with Sarah’s to line up by the door. Hotch takes off Sarah’s coat with some one-armed manoeuvring, aware of her smiley gaze following his every move. 

“I,” you say, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek, cold lips to his rough skin, “am gonna go to the toilet really quickly. Hi, handsome.” 

He savours your kiss and watches you go. He owes you a better greeting, he missed you just as much as he missed your girl. For now, he wipes the cold from Sarah’s cheeks and stations her comfortably on his navel. 

He loves her like his own. He’s privileged to get the opportunity, and it’s hard not to feel that low level of awe whenever she’s around, because she loves him the same way. Sarah waits for him to smile before she wraps her arms around his neck, long enough to twine her fingers in the short hair she finds there. 

It’s funny to love someone you had no hand in bringing into the world, but no less real. He’d do anything for Sarah. I miss you doesn’t cover it, but it’s a start. “I missed you,” he murmurs, not well-versed in baby talk but always willing to try for his kids. “It’s so nice to see you. Jack missed you too, should we go see him? I can change your socks.” 

He ushers her back enough to see her. She has such loving eyes, not shy at all as she nods her head. “Can you make crackers?” 

He beams. “Oooh, yes. Crackers and cheese and apple slices, I know what you want, honey. It’s ready for you in the kitchen.” 

Things weren’t easy at first for either you nor Hotch. He works too much, and you both have priorities that can’t be shifted, but the connection between you was easy. Love, undoubtedly, pretty much the moment you met, even if it scared him. He never thought he’d get a second chance and he’s not sure you thought you’d find yours either, and yet loving you has been as helpless as loving your daughter. He doesn’t have a choice and he doesn’t want one. 

In this time, you’ve found routine. He’s introduced the idea of moving in together and you’re excited for it, though concrete plans haven’t been laid. There’s a lot of questions and no need to rush into answering them yet. He has no intentions of letting you go now —Hotch will do anything it takes to keep his small family. 

Today, right now, that’s crackers. 

“Sarah!” Jack says when he sees them, jumping off of his chair to climb on top of it. He holds his hands out and Hotch leans down with a loving laugh to let his son hug her. “You’re back!” 

“I’m back,” she agrees. 

“Do you want some of my sandwiches? Daddy made me two.” 

“Yes!” she says, wiggling to be put down and given what he’s promising. 

Hotch fights to take her to the sink and wash her little hands, to her horror and whining. He says, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you gotta wash your hands before you eat.” 

He puts her in her own chair, and it is Sarah’s chair, outfitted with a big pillow so she can see the table and marked by a pink star sticker, putting a placemat in front of her. Jack quickly pushes one of his sandwiches towards her. “There you go.” 

“Thank you, Jackers,” she says. 

Hotch smiles. Despite their different interests and ages, they’re quick to get along. 

He shouldn’t pry while you’re in the bathroom, but he worries about you. “Honey?” he calls up the stairs. 

“I’m just changing!” 

“Yeah? Can you bring some socks for Sarah, please?” 

You shout back something incomprehensible. He returns to the kitchen, where Sarah looks over the chair with pleading eyes and asks, “Crackers?” a piece of lettuce stuck to her chin. 

“Ah,” he says showfully, turning to the fridge to grab the plate of crackers, sliced cheese, and apples he’d Saran wrapped an hour ago. He peels off the wrapping and places it in front of her. “Here, sweetheart. Do you want anything else? Maybe some chips?” 

She laughs and grabs a piece of apple without answering him. 

“What about you, sweetheart? Drink?” he asks Jack. 

“Yes please, daddy.” 

Hotch makes Jack a cup of orange juice and Sarah a sippy cup, hers diluted some with water. He places them down in front of the kids, crouching between their chairs, intending to stay and chat. “How’s that?” he asks, tilting his head to the side to listen for your light footsteps on the stairs.  

“Thanks, daddy,” Jack says. 

“Thank you, daddy,” Sarah echoes, reaching for him. Hotch offers his hand, startled, not quick enough to hide it. She doesn’t pay any mind to his expression, pleased to have her hand held and her big plastic plate of crackers to munch on. 

“Why’d you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” you ask, passing him Sarah’s socks, and rounding the table to stand by Jack's other side. “Hi,” you add, ruffling Jack’s hair, “look at you, gorgeous, you got your hair cut.” 

Hotch rubs Sarah’s knuckles, trying to phrase it, not sure how to tell you with the kids still there. Will Sarah feel embarrassed if he brings it up so swiftly? Will she feel like she’s done something wrong? Will you? 

“What’s wrong?” you ask. 

He decides to present you with the situation. He’s not manipulative, but clever. “Mommy got your socks, too. Can we take these cold ones off, is that okay?” 

“Yes, please,” Sarah says.

You watch in confusion. Hotch gives you a quick look. Trust me for a second. 

He eases the socks off of her feet, laughs when she laughs at his tickling, even if he’s not quite sure how to feel. Happy, he gives her toes a squeeze and bunches a sock up to pull it over her heel and up to her ankle. “One,” he says, repeating the process with the same tenderness. “Two. There we go, all warm again, Sarah.” 

“Thanks, daddy.” 

You breathe in. 

Sarah puts some cheese on a cracker and offers it to Hotch, who eats it while you summon him away with silent parent talk. He kisses her forehead and wipes it clean as he goes. 

“Did she do that when I was upstairs?” you ask quietly. 

Hotch knows you. Loves you, but knows you intrinsically. He knows just by looking at you that you’re happy, but you’re worried about something, and it’s not hard to guess what it is: he might not want Sarah to call him daddy, and telling her not to might break her heart, and yours too. 

“She did.” 

“She’s never… expressed that interest to me.” 

“Sometimes they think about things more than we know.” Jack still surprises him as he did when he was a toddler.

“She just loves you,” you say. 

“I love her. She can call me whatever she wants to.” 

You hold his wrist, taking a step closer to him. “Are you sure?” 

“Of course I’m sure.” He murmurs now you’re close, ducking his head to yours, two halves of the same heart looking at one another’s hands. “I love her more than anything in the world. I want to make her crackers for the rest of my life.” Hotch puts his index finger to the soft skin under your chin. “Maybe by tomorrow she’ll forget she called me daddy and she’ll never say it again, but… I want her to. Is that okay?” he asks. 

You lean up to kiss him and you nod into his lips, which makes it hard but not impossible to kiss back. “She loves you so much,” you say quietly. You’d only wanted a quick peck. 

He might’ve said he loves her more than anything, but there’s a level on which he holds her and Jack where you sit too. He loves you. You made Sarah who she is all by yourself, and you’re so lovable standing in his reach. You’re perfect. 

Maybe he’s feeling sweet because Sarah called him daddy. 

“I think Jack confused her,” he says. 

“Maybe. You are, you know, her dad. You do everything a dad would.” 

Hotch slots his leg between yours and leans back to force you into his favourite kind of hug. You laugh slowly, hug the same, your arms sliding up over his shoulders to wrap behind his head, your hand cupping his hair. 

He closes his eyes and feels your waist. 

“You don’t have to worry,” he says. 

“I don’t worry about you and Sarah, I know you love her. I guess I just worry about us. Not that you don’t love me, Aaron.” 

“Big changes,” he guesses in a whisper. 

“Big changes.” 

He encourages you away to hold your face. He hopes that waiting with you in quiet for a while can explain it better than words. 

Your shoulders finally relax. 

[griffinkid]

I don't want to be treated like a fragile helpless baby, I want to be treated like a little one just learning things for the first time

I want to get the level of praise and encouragement that little kids get that nobody gives you as an adult

"Great job! You did so well with this."

"I know you're scared but I'll be right here with you."

"It's alright, everybody makes mistakes, you can always try again."

"Even if you fail, I'll still love you."

"It's tough learning new things, isn't it? Nobody gets it right first time, don't be discouraged."

"You did your best and I'm so proud of you."

Edit: you know what, I didn't actually think as many of you were going to relate to this, but since this is getting notes:

I'm proud of you. I think you're doing great.

You don't need to compare yourself to others. I like you just the way you are.

I know you feel alienated sometimes, but I promise, you're always welcome here.

Yes, you've made mistakes. I've made them too! I still like you and so does everyone else!

Life is tough, but not all of us are. It's alright to be soft. Stay soft.

You will be just fine. We all will be just fine in the end.

I'm so sorry I had to add this

[sepublic]

I cannot imagine being Camila Noceda because so much of her arc starts around her being scared for her child, wanting her to do well and succeed and being afraid she’ll get hurt. And then right under her nose, her daughter has disappeared on some adventure in another world but at least she seems fine, right?

But you still let yourself break and you end up saying things you might regret. And then it’s only when you begin to worry about her that she comes back and she is scarred. She’s hurt. There’s a cut on her eyebrow and you realize it will never heal. It always reminds you of how you weren’t there for her, you couldn’t protect your daughter from those who hurt her, and if you’d been enough for Luz then maybe she wouldn’t have needed to come to the isles to begin with and be injured. You see how she’s begun to loathe and hate herself, because of things and people entirely outside of her control, and you couldn’t have been there to comfort her when she needed it. So now it’s built up for Luz into this horrific trauma that she hasn’t even yet begun to unpack.

Camila is stronger than everyone because if I’d seen my kid come back like that, I’d have broken apart asking what happened, are you okay, etc. But instead she remains strong because she can see that Luz and her kids are scared and they really need an adult who can be strong for them. Camila probably thought about what happened in Yesterday’s Lie afterwards, and come to regret her outburst; She must’ve guessed how it hurt Luz and made her feel terrible and alas she was right! So she vowed not to make that same mistake again and be even stronger next time, and she was!!!

But man that must’ve been so scary and helpless and painful, seeing what happened under your watch. Being unable to provide a fix in getting her back home, so of course Camila goes along to the Demon Realm once she gets that opportunity, because this all started because she wasn’t there for her daughter when she needed her most. Of course she supports her in coming out, as well as in staying in the isles; She won't blame Eda for giving Luz what she wanted and needed, as Eda herself couldn't be a hypocrite by telling Luz to stay with her mom. Camila won’t let Luz face this stuff alone like last time, not when she knows and Luz feels better about trusting her (or had to, anyway) and it’s what saves Luz!!! Because when Luz relapses after failing against Kikimora, it’s Camila who’s there to pick her back up and tell her everything she needs, which leads to Luz’s palisman String Bean finally emerging!!!

But then Luz dies and just. That scar must’ve reminded Camila that she wasn’t there to protect her daughter from anyone that might hurt her. And despite helping a little against Kikimora, it still happened again. Permanently. Man I wish Camila had a “GET AWAY FROM HER YOU BITCH” moment to get back at Belos for all she did her to child. But Camila had to keep going because after Yesterday’s Lie, she knew she still had other kids to look after. She was strong for Vee during Yesterday’s Lie, only to let herself drop right afterwards in front of Luz. But not again. No time for self pity, you just have to move on after a death and keep living, just as you did with Manny. And in the end, Luz IS all right, and she’s better than she’s ever been and there’s some huge relief.

Just augh Camila Noceda. Luz went on an isekai adventure, but maybe so did her mother? And I don’t mean with the Boiling Isles, I mean with the U.S. Camila might have been an immigrant, and not just the child/descendant of one. And even if she wasn’t, she still moved to Gravesfield. So in general so much of her life has been about going to another world and trying to survive and feel comfortable in it. As it was for Luz, too; But they survived along the way and found what fellow “weirdoes” they could, with Camila meeting Manny, who could’ve also related to her as a fellow Dominican American. And now she’s found others who can relate to Camila in other ways, as Manny also related to her as a huge nerd.

[ashwhowrites]

HII, LOVE YOUR WORK. Can you do Eddie Munson x popular reader that he has hopelessly in love with. One day, the reader is trying to avoid this guy who’s been asking her out so she kisses Eddie but from then Eddie thinks they are dating. Not knowing how to tell him to not hurt his feelings but he finds out and feels stupid. WITH HAPPY ENDING!!!

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Jumping ahead

Eddie had been in love with Y/N ever since high school. He always thought she was cute but she entered high school as a woman, and boy she was a woman.

He felt his mouth go dry whenever she was near him. He barely kept his eyes to himself, finding her anywhere he could. His ears were always perked up to hear her voice and laugh. He worshipped the ground she walked on; she had no idea he existed.

Well, that was until Friday night. Eddie never went to parties but he heard some kids wanted weed. So he went to make fast money. He ignored everyone, letting people come to him.

He heard loud voices come out of the house, and the argument quickly grabbed his attention. He turned to the noise, standing up once he saw Y/N marching outside with a pissed-off look.

Even pissed off she looked beautiful. He watched in case he needed to step in, disliking the way the boy followed her and gripped her arm.

She tried to shove him off but he wouldn't let go. Eddie packed up his stuff and put it underneath the table. Then puffed out his chest and made his way over.

"Let her go," he growled, he was very intimated by the tall and muscular jock but he'd do anything for the girl in front of him.

She looked at him with soft eyes, pleading for help. He gave her a quick glance and glared at the boy.

"This doesn't concern you," the boy argued, his grip still on Y/N.

"It does," Eddie replied, his voice deep as he stepped forward. Eddie wasn't muscular by any means, and he knew he'd definitely get his ass kicked. But the way Y/N was looking at him, so scared and helpless, the bruises would be worth it.

"How so?" The boy asked, letting go of Y/N as he shoved Eddie hard. Eddie stumbled back, almost losing his balance. But he grounded himself to the floor, his hand clenched in a fist as he prepared to throw the first hit.

"Because of this," Y/N said

Within seconds Eddie felt sticky glossy lips pressed against his. His eyes were wide as he looked at her. Her eyes were closed, her hands were in his hair and her tongue slipped in his mouth.

Eddie unclenched his fist and closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around her body. He shoved her against him, shivering at the way she moaned against his tongue.

Was he dreaming? He feared he'd wake up in his bedroom with wet boxers. It felt like they were the only two in the world. He imagined fireworks shooting in the sky.

Y/N was shocked by how much she was enjoying the kiss. His lips and control were so firm, locking her in place. And she liked the way his arms were around her, refusing to let her body move away.

She pulled away, desperate for air. Her eyes locked on Eddie as she felt the afterwaves of the kiss. She never knew much about Eddie, just his name and face. And well now how he tastes.

Y/N turned around to see the boy gone, a relieved smile on her face as she turned to Eddie.

"See you Monday," she said with a flirty smile. She walked away and gave him a wave, a flirty one as her fingers wiggled.

Eddie smiled at the ground, he shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to make his jeans comfortable again.

~~~

Monday rolled around and Eddie had never been so excited to go to school in his life. He walked on cloud nine, a swag in his step as he felt confidence oozing off of him.

Y/N kissed him. She picked him and she made out with him. Then made it clear they were going to see each other again. She never paid attention to him in school, but now she would.

Y/N was putting her lunch in her locker when Eddie appeared next to her. She gave him a polite smile.

"Hey, Y/N," he said with a bright smile. She couldn't help but smile brighter herself as she looked at him.

"Hi, Eddie," she closed her locker and turned her body to face him.

She was stunned when he leaned in and pressed another breath-taking kiss on her lips. She melted and kissed him back, her arms lopping around his neck.

He pulled away, a shy smile on his face. She blinked a thousand times as he simply walked away.

~

Eddie already raced to tell all his friends about the kiss with Y/N. And how they were definitely seeing each other. She kissed him twice, she had to be interested. And boy was he interested in her.

Y/N felt bad for overhearing Eddie's conversation with his friends, but she felt even worse that he believed they were dating after their kiss.

She didn't want to hurt his feelings, but how the hell was she supposed to clear the air?

He was very cute, and he knew how to kiss. She was very interested in getting to know him and open to letting that lead them to dating. But she didn't know anything about him and now he's telling people he's her boyfriend.

She walked away fast, trying to think of how to bring this up to him.

~~

Two weeks passed and she never quite figured out how to say it. He talked to her all the time, held her hand in the halls, and was never shy to place his lips on hers. She really liked all of it.

They did go out on some dates, and she enjoyed his company. Over the two weeks, she had a fat crush on him and wanted to be his girlfriend. So, she figured what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. She'll gladly be his girlfriend.

But she was so lost in her little relationship that she forgot her friends were snakes. They were quick to gossip and that boy who never gave up on her was making his way back in.

~

"Yo, Eddie. I heard you and Y/N are actually together. Is that true?" Luke asked the name Eddie finally figured out after that party.

"Yes," Eddie said, quick to walk past him but Luke grabbed his arm.

"Now hold on, Munson. Because I heard after she kissed you, you thought you guys were together and she didn't know how to tell you that it was just a kiss."

Eddie felt the color draining from his face. He shook Luke off his arm and made an escape. He racked his brain and felt embarrassment rushing through his body. He was an idiot. He moved way too fast and didn't check to see where she was with all of it.

He also felt terrified. What if she didn't even like him? Just didn't know how to say no so she only went along with it.

He sat in his van, patiently waiting for her to jump in. He heard the door open and she slid in, planting her lips on his cheek and then closing the door.

"Ready?" She asked, he nodded and started the van. She seemed excited and happy to see him, but was all of that an act?

He waited until they sat down at the small restaurant before he questioned her.

"Luke told me something today and I want you to tell me the truth," Eddie said, swallowing nervously.

Y/N sat up straighter, a twist in her stomach. "Of course," she replied with a small hopeful smile.

"Did you mean anything from that kiss? Or was it just a kiss and I got way too ahead of myself?" He asked, she frowned at his sad eyes. She took a deep breath before she spoke.

"You want the truth so I'll give you that. It was supposed to be just a kiss. Something to throw Luke off of me. I'm sorry for using you like that. It was wrong and very wrong to not consider your feelings." She watched as Eddie's shoulders fell. "But" he perked up slightly, looking at her through his lashes with his head down. "I've loved every second we've spent together."

She reached over to softly hold his hand. "I really like you and I'm sorry I didn't say anything. I understand if this changes things, but I'm being honest that I want this with you, for real."

Eddie felt himself smiling at her words before he understood what she said. His stomach fluttered with her hand in his.

"I'm sorry for jumping far ahead without even communicating. I think I got so excited that I didn't even think." Eddie laughed, she giggled with him and rubbed her thumb against the top of his soft skin. "I want this too."

"Really?" She asked, a huge smile broke across her face, and felt excitement in her stomach.

"Have you seen you? Never letting you go." Eddie joked but yet meant every word.

"Can you ask me officially?" She raised her eyebrow with a small smirk on her face.

"Y/N, will you be my wonderful and beautiful girlfriend?" Eddie asked, he already knew the answer but still felt himself getting nervous.

"Absolutely," she said, leaning over the table as she placed a soft and gentle kiss against his lips.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[angellesword]

Baggage l JJK (01)

Summary: Drowning in debt and blood, Jeon Jungkook knows he's better off alone, lest he brings people down with him.

But one drunken night changes everything.

In a blink of an eye, Jungkook found himself drowning not only in debt and blood, but also in dirty diapers and judgmental stares from you, a.k.a his long-lost love and the guardian of the son he didn't even know existed.

Genre and warnings: best friends to lovers, co-parenting, idiots in love, slow burn—really slow burn, mutual pining, angst, fluff, implied smut, kissing, minor character death, slight getting back together, OC cusses excessively so watch out

Pairing: dad!Jungkook x adoptive mom!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

→ Next Chapter (02)

***

You know it's New Year's Eve when people flock to Incheon's Chinatown. Some were rushing to buy gifts for their families and friends, while others ate in a fancy restaurant or watched fireworks and the famous lion dance.

As for Jungkook, he knew it was New Year's Eve when he could earn double. 

"I said I don't want to take a picture!" The loud wail of a little girl could be heard through the vast street of Chinatown. Many shoppers looked at the kid and her father with disdain. The child was crying hard, yet her father simply laughed it off, urging the child to take a picture with Jungkook or, rather, with Ronald McDonald.

Jungkook was wearing the infamous mascot costume of that red-haired clown of McDonald's.

"Come on, Wonyoung-ah. Just one picture, please?" Seokjin, the child's father, batted his eyelashes, acting cute. It worked on his partner Namjoon. Unfortunately, it didn't have much effect on Wonyoung.

"No! He's so ugly and scary!" Wonyoung stole a glance at Jungkook. The mascot looked so hideous that Wonyoung couldn't help but throw her ice cream at Jungkook.

"Wonyoung." Namjoon, who had been quiet all this time, grimaced when he saw Jungkook stilled—as if the ice cream that hit his chest also froze his heart.

Namjoon usually tolerated the young girl's brattiness, but seeing that Wonyoung crossed the line and even hurt someone older than her, Namjoon couldn't help but scold his daughter.

"Apologize to him." Namjoon tilted Wonyoung's shoulder, compelling her to face Jungkook, who was still rooted to the ground.

Jungkook had never liked kids. He thought they were annoying and full of shit. What happened today totally embarrassed him. Not to mention, many people witnessed the jarring scene.

"I don't want to! Why don't you listen to me! He's a bad clown! He scares people!" Wonyoung refused to look at the mascot. Honestly, Jungkook couldn't refute the kid's reason. He, too, was aware of how ridiculous he looked. Most of his co-workers went on vacation leave. No one was around to help him apply his Ronald McDonald makeup. He had to do it himself.

Jungkook had no talent when it came to makeup. He had accidentally put on too much white face paint—even his manager laughed at him. But despite feeling helpless, he still swallowed his pride and went out to entertain customers. It's just for one night. Someone who needed money to survive couldn't be picky with the little opportunity available.

Not everyone was lucky enough to throw away food like it was nothing. Wonyoung was a young heiress; throwing ice cream at Jungkook was considered throwing tantrums and not wasting food. They had money. They could buy people's silence.

That's precisely what happened. Namjoon was hellbent on making his daughter apologize, and after a long time of coaxing, Wonyoung finally (although reluctantly) managed to say she was sorry.

Namjoon apologized on behalf of his child, too. Conversely, Seokjin gave Jungkook some hush money after promising to 'discipline' Wonyoung at home.

Jungkook could only nod, once again forced to swallow his pride and accept the money offered to him. Poor people like him didn't only have fewer opportunities; they had no self-preservation either. He endured long hours of smiling as kids cried seeing his face. The brave ones were a little easy to deal with. They only clung to his legs, asking their guardians to take more pictures with him.

It was already late at night when the last customer bid him goodbye. Jungkook was exhausted; the cold winter wind made his body shiver. He was itching to go home.

"What happened to your costume?" The manager who laughed at Jungkook earlier couldn't laugh anymore, not when he knew it would cost the restaurant money to clean off the stain.

The chocolate ice cream thrown by Wonyoung heavily stained the costume. Jungkook explained what happened. Unfortunately, the manager only shook his head.

"Nope, that can't be. It's your fault you didn't dodge. I'm gonna have to deduct the laundry fee from your salary."

Jungkook's hands balled into fists when he heard about the salary deduction. There was ringing in his ears, and as if that wasn't cruel enough, the manager added, "I'm not going to double your payment this day. Half of it goes to dry cleaning."

The strong urge to grab the manager's collar and slam him on the wall made Jungkook's hands twitch. Who even dry-cleans a fucking mascot costume? A whirlpool of profanities at the bottom of his heart threatened to swallow him whole. Jungkook wished he could just disappear from this world.

Logic sided with him in the end, though. Jungkook needed a job. He couldn't leave even if he wanted to because if he did, where would that leave those people to whom he owed money? He couldn't escape his responsibilities. Yes, it would be satisfying to smack the hell out of his manager, but after all that gratifying feeling came the consequences: he would lose his only source of income, face a civil case, and be forced to look for a new job.

The last one was the hardest thing to do. No one would want to hire someone like Jungkook. He was a failure, and almost all business industries knew about it.

For the third time tonight, Jungkook swallowed his pride. He held the crook of his manager's elbow and beamed, "Manager Bang, have mercy on your poor employee, would you? You promised to pay me double today."

Jungkook struggled to steady his voice. He swore he never cried, not even when losing millions of assets. But things were different now. Back then, he lost everything because of his own decisions. But today's case was different. He didn't ask any of this. He didn't ask that stupid brat to throw ice cream on him. None of these was his choice...because sadly, he only had one choice:

It was to beg. 

"Please? I-I need money. I need to..." Jungkook choked on his bitter spit. He shook his head. Never mind his needs, never mind his reason. It wasn't like others cared. He could only compromise, "What if I wash the costume instead? You don't have to pay at all."

Jungkook was so passionate about his proposal. He kept spouting nonsense. It was a pity, really. Even his manager couldn't bear looking at his face. It was such a cringe-worthy juxtaposition to see a happy clown almost crying.

"Okay, fine!" The manager cut Jungkook off. He had never seen someone desperately beg for money. It made him uncomfortable. "Do whatever you want. Just get out of my sight."

The manager shuddered again, but Jungkook smiled, almost kowtowing as he received his compensation.

"Thank you, Manager Bang!" Jungkook smiled at his manager before finally leaving the food chain. He didn't change his outfit, realizing that things were better off like this. It was winter, and he had no money to buy coats and boots. He had to make do with this clown costume.

With little compensation in hand, Jungkook walked around Chinatown, spending his transportation fee on food instead.

It was New Year's Eve, after all. He felt like he at least deserved to eat something delicious. Jungkook originally wanted to buy crabs but could only afford five sticks of chicken skewers and a bottle of the cheapest soju. 

Jungkook had low alcohol tolerance. It had been many years since he last drank, and the consequences of that night had been awful—so awful he decided to never drink again.

Tonight was the only night he'd break his promise. It was New Year's Eve. He had no one by his side; he could only rely on alcohol to give him warmth.

As expected, Jungkook's vision doubled after just a few sips of soju. He couldn't stop drinking, though. The alcohol burned his throat and stomach, but it was nothing compared to his bitterness as he looked at the building before him.

The Bighit building. 

Out of hundreds of restaurants and food stalls in Incheon, Jungkook had no idea why he chose to dine in a place where he would have a clear view of Bighit. He did so well trying to avoid going to this part of the city for years, so what changed tonight? Was the embarrassment he experienced earlier not enough?

Did he need to be reminded of the pain and humiliation he went through at the Bighit back then?

Or was it because he missed someone?   

Jungkook's heart throbbed just thinking about that someone. It had been long since they last saw each other. Things had changed already. Take Bighit as an example. It was called HYBE now.

Some people left, including him. But some things never changed. The building was still as magnificent as ever.

Jungkook felt nostalgic. He couldn't stop himself from walking toward HYBE. Years ago, he could go in and out of this building as he pleased.

Everyone would bow down and smile at him. What a pity that he could only stare at the façade of this company now.

Jungkook wasn't the same man years ago, but the alcohol clouded his mind. He felt as if nothing had changed. He thought he could stand outside the building, smiling like an idiot as he waved at an angry girl leaning against her car, a frown decorating her lips while rolling her eyes.

Jungkook smiled despite himself. How shameless of him to think about that girl? To think that he could drink alcohol and pretend like he could turn back time?

Oh, how he wished he could turn back time. He would do anything to see that girl roll her eyes again, to hear her scream one more time.

Jungkook laughed bitterly.

He missed the girl.

The snowflakes fell, followed by tears falling from his eyes. The tears he thought had frozen over time.

And then he heard the sound of the fireworks before seeing it illuminate the dark sky.

It's New Year.

He heard the sound of her voice before seeing her face-to-face.

"Jungkook."

The fireworks enveloped his ears, but it was nothing compared to his loud heartbeat.

Jungkook looked at the person who had just uttered his name.

Did time really freeze? Was this some kind of New Year miracle?

Or was the alcohol still messing with his brain, making him believe that he was still the Jungkook from the past? The Jungkook could see the girl, also known as you, any time he wanted.

Jungkook blinked, chuckling.

It was absurd.

How drunk was he to see your car again parked in front of Bighit?

Jungkook was drunk, but the image in front of him wasn't a fragment of his imagination.

You were really here to pick Jungkook up.

Just like before.

***

NEW JJK ONESHOT HERE

→ Next Chapter (02)

This fic is originally a soukoku fic which I'm posting/revamping as a JJK one (I don't know, man. I feel like I have to change the characters to eradicate my writer's block. This fic has been on hiatus for many years. This will probably have 8 chapters in total. (I've written 4/8 already, so stay tuned!) This is also for those few readers who never fail to message me, asking if I will be writing more JJK fics. Here you go, I guess? Hehehe

I appreciate COMMENTS the most <33 I love you, guys. Thanks for reading.

[tropes-and-tales]

Good Girl

Day 2:  Dry humping (Bob Floyd x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 

CW:  Idiots in love; praise kink; smut (dry humping; outercourse; whatever the youths call it now - clothed grinding and such); 18+ only.

Word Count:  2996

AN:  This is loosely related to the very loosely-formed Seresin cousin mini-series, found here. It was requested for Kinktober by @justreblogginfics!)

You and Bob continue your little dance for months.

You know the man likes you.  Every time you fly into town to visit your cousin Jake, Bob is always nearby, staring at you on the sly like a lovesick puppy.  He’s always just at the edge of the group gatherings—nights at the Hard Deck, parties at Nat’s house, afternoons at the beach—and you always feel those big blue eyes tracking your movements.

Everyone else notices it.  Harvard and Yale corner you at the Hard Deck, ask if you’ve noticed that you have an admirer.  Nat pulls you aside at her barbeque and obliquely gives you a rundown of Bob’s numerous good traits.  Only Jake holds his tongue, but you catch him narrowing his eyes at the WSO enough that you realize even your cousin—your cousin with his penchant for being self-centered, the handsome narcissist with the blinding smile—has noticed Bob’s crush too.

Bob never makes a move.

Nights at the Hard Deck when you blatantly lament being single.  The party at Bob’s house where you stayed behind to help him clean up.  The little touches you chance:  brushing your hand against his, a light hand on his shoulder, friendly hugs…they are an invitation, but he doesn’t pick up on it.

It’s Rooster who clues you in.  The man takes your hand one night at the bar and tugs you outside where the ocean crashes along the shore in the darkness.  In the dim light, you can just make out the man as he peers down at you.

“I know what you’re doing,” he says.  “But you’re going about it all wrong.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

You catch the white of his eyes as he rolls them.  “C’mon.  It’s obvious you like Bob, but you gotta make the move if you’re interested.  You gotta be blatant with him.  He won’t get it otherwise.”

“Why not?”  Your stomach twists unpleasantly; you wonder if perhaps you’ve misread the situation.  Maybe Bob has a crush, but maybe it’s just a crush, and maybe there’s someone else he loves and this is just a passing bit of madness—

“Guy’s a brilliant wizzo, but he’s clueless with women.”

Now you roll your eyes at Rooster, and he chuckles at the gesture.  

“I’m serious!” he continues, and he holds his hands up, helpless.  “I think he misread a situation once with a girl when he was younger, and I think it scared him off of making the first move.”

“That’s a terrible excuse.  I got food poisoning from bad tacos once but I still eat tacos.”

Rooster chuckles again.  “Yeah, but you women can be devastating when you reject us.  I think poor Baby on Board was crushed before and now he’s just a pining little asshole, staring at you from across the bar.”  

You shrug helplessly and glance back into the Hard Deck:  you can see Bob in profile, and you get the impression that he’s just turned away, that he didn’t want to get caught watching you.  Watching you and Rooster together, chatting outside, laughing outside.  You feel a wave of sympathy for what Bob must be thinking—that you’re flirting with Rooster, that maybe Bob has missed his chance.

You turn back to the pilot.  You square your shoulders.  “Okay, I hear you.  I’ll be the brave one.”  A beat as anxiety blooms in your chest, makes your ribcage feel a fraction tighter, makes it just a bit harder to draw a full breath.  “And you’re sure he likes me?  You aren’t misreading this somehow?  I don’t want to look like an idiot, Bradshaw.”

He laughs outright, and he hooks an arm around your neck to pull you into a friendly hug.  

“Ah, kid, he loves you.  You make the first move, he’ll probably go ring shopping next weekend,” he says, and he lays a smacking kiss on the side of your head before releasing you, shoving you gently back towards the bar.

-----

You may be confident, but that confidence doesn’t always extend into your romantic life.  Still, you decide to be brave.

You make the first move.

When you go back into the Hard Deck, you notice that Bob seems quieter than usual, and you guess that he saw the hug, the friendly kiss between you and Rooster.  You guess that he is drawing incorrect conclusions about what he thinks he saw, and you hate to think of him suffering needlessly.

You sidle up to him, and you feel another wave of tenderness towards the man when he turns to look at you—still with that soft smile on his face, a glimmer of hope in his eyes despite what he must be thinking.

“It’s too noisy in here,” you say close to his ear.  “I was going to take a walk on the beach.  Do you want to join me?”

The hope in his eyes turns blatant.  “Really?”

“Yeah.  You wanna go?  C’mon.”  You don’t give him a chance to stammer his way out of it; you thread your arm through his and tug him towards the door, and he follows you without any resistance. 

You catch Rooster’s eye, then Nat’s as you leave.  The former tips you a knowing wink.  The latter gives you a nod, and she lifts her glass in a salute.

You don’t release him until you’re at the water’s edge, and you bend down to untie your sneakers and peel out of your socks.  He hesitates a beat then joins you, and he rolls up the pants to his uniform so that his shins are bare.

The two of you walk along the shore in silence for a bit.  It’s one of the things you like best about Bob—how he lacks the braggadocio to always talk, to always fill up every bit of silence with the sound of his own voice.  You know he’s perhaps more shy than the average person, but he doesn’t seem undone by it.  He seems comfortable just to be himself:  quieter than most, willing to sit back and watch.  

Case in point:  you hold your shoes and socks in one hand, and you take his hand with your free one.  Maybe he’s nervous, but his palm is warm and dry, not sweaty or twitchy.  If he’s nervous, it’s not obvious.

And he breaks the silence, after a while.

“Growing up in the Midwest, I never even saw the ocean until I enlisted,” he says.  

“Same,” you reply.  “I mean, growing up in Texas, we went to Galveston a few times, but that was technically the Gulf, not the ocean.”

“You like it?”

You feel the water lapping around your ankles, the give of the sand underneath your soles.  “I do,” you admit.  “There’s something really peaceful about it, and I love poking around at low tide and looking for sea glass.”

He glances at you, and you can hear the teasing in his voice when he replies, “I’m gonna tell Hangman that his cousin only visits him because he’s stationed along the coast.”

The words slip out of your mouth before you even realize you’re saying them.  “Maybe I only visit Jake because I like one of his coworkers.”

The light-hearted feeling of the moment deflates; Bob goes silent.  He takes a beat to reply, and when he does, his voice sounds strained.

“Bradley.”  It comes out curt, two quick syllables.  A statement, not a question.

You shake your head, let out a grumble of disagreement.  Up ahead, you can see the outline of a lifeguard station, painted white and rising ghostly out of the night.  You want to sit with him and finally talk with him, so you tug his hand and lead him there.  The two of you sit on the steps, side by side, hips touching and facing the ocean.

“Not Bradley,” you tell him as you pick up the thread of the conversation.  

“I saw you tonight—”

You shake your head again, cut him off.  “He wanted to talk to me,” you tell Bob.  “About you.”

You feel him go rigid beside you, and he huffs out a frustrated breath.  If there was more light, you’d see the furious blush that breaks out across his face, but it’s dark enough that you can only guess at his embarrassment.

And now that you’ve opened the Pandora’s box, you can hardly take it back, so you plunge forward.  Usually confident, you’re glad for the darkness too—you hope it hides your shaky hands, your inability to turn and meet his eyeline.

“I think you’re great, Bobby.  Honestly.  I thought you were handsome the moment I met you, but then I got to know you, and you’re quiet but you’re funny and sweet, and I was giving all these signs that I was into you, but nothing…I mean, I like you a lot and it’s just…”  You trail off, lose your words like an idiot.  You hadn’t enough time to rehearse this in your head; you just grabbed him at the Hard Deck and dragged him out here, and now you’re fumbling it completely.  You drop your head and swipe your sweaty palms along the sides of your shorts, and you take a deep breath—

You hear his soft “hey,” and then a split second later you feel his warm hand on your face, tilting your head up and turning you to face him, but nothing on earth could prepare you for the way Bob Floyd kisses:  gentle but firm, only a bit hesitant.  His lips are soft, and he breathes out a quiet groan when you reach up and lay your own hand along the side of his neck.

Your thoughts go fuzzy.  Your concentration—all the words you were fumbling to say—is shot, but when you try to break the kiss to finish what you were saying, Bob shakes his head faintly and mumbles against you lips.

“I know,” he says, and you can hear his accent breaking through.  “I know, honey.  Me too.”

Then he kisses you again, firmer this time, and a moment later, when he runs the tip of his tongue along the seam of your mouth, you open yourself to him, allow him to taste you.  You taste him too, and Bob Floyd tastes like the grenadine-laced Coke he nurses each night at the Hard Deck, never much of a drinker even on the rowdiest night.

If nothing could prepare you for the way he kisses, then certainly nothing could prepare you for how sweetly dominant he is, how perfectly he walks the line between gentlemanly and not.  Your clumsy confession must have given him the wherewithal to take charge, and you’re surprised when he puts a hand on your waist and gently urges you to turn towards him…then how he just as gently urges you to climb onto his lap.

It doesn’t take much urging, you find.  You’ve been ravenous for months for this exact moment, and you had thought it’d never come.  You break away long enough to study his face—this close, and with the faint light of the half-moon in the sky above you, you can see his wide blue eyes, his parted lips as he gazes back at you.  You don’t see any hesitancy in his expression at all, but then he breathes out, “please, honey” and he squeezes your waist, so you clamber onto him with no grace whatsoever, but neither of you care because the moment you’re settled on him, you bend your head to kiss him again.

As it turns out, maybe Bob was just as ravenous for this moment too.  He puts his other hand on your waist too, draws you closer to him, and you can feel the nudge and brush of his growing erection against your inner thigh.  He makes a strangled, pained sort of groan in the back of his throat the first time you touch him there, and his hands spasm on your waist, grip you tighter before he schools himself and apologizes.

You break the kiss, slow the moment down.  You cup his face between your palms and hold him steady, tilt his face up towards yours.

“Bobby, why didn’t you ever say anything?” you whisper.  

He shakes his head against your hold and offers you a rueful grin.  “Didn’t think you were interested.”

You snort and press a light kiss to his forehead, then another few to his cheeks, the tip of his nose.  You can feel how flushed he is under your lips.  

“You think I just randomly hang back at parties to help the host clean up?” you tease.  You shift your head, whisper the words in his ear, and you note how he squirms under you.  He’s growing harder, even at your playful kisses.

“Just thought…ah, just thought y-you were bein’ nice.”  His accent comes out stronger, and his hands squeeze you tighter again before he loosens his grip.  “You’re always so…so nice to everyone.”

“I’m nicest to you,” you point out.  You kiss a trail along the line of his neck, and he tilts his head to grant you the space.  At his pulse point, you can feel his heartbeat thundering away there, so you bare your teeth and nip him—not enough to hurt or even sting, but he groans out “shit, honey” and wraps a strong arm around your waist, hauls you right up against where he���s straining against his uniform for you.  His other hand finds the back of your neck, and he draws you to him, kisses you breathless as he guides you against him, sets a steady, rocking motion against him.

It's too much:  the way his clothed erection hits you just right, how he pushes you back and forth, over and over, until you are so wet that you’re certain you’ve soaked through your panties and your shorts.  Everything feels sensitive, swollen, but he keeps guiding you, lifts his own hips in time to the rhythm he sets.  It’s too much but it’s not nearly enough, and you wish you’d known how this entire evening was going to unravel because you would have just taken him home instead—

“This good?” he asks.  His face is tucked against your neck; you’re a fraction higher than him, perched in his lap, and he works his mouth almost lazily against your neck, your throat, the underside of your jaw.  He has one arm around your waist, holding you tight to him, but his other hand settles against your ass, kneads you there, digs his fingertips into the fat of your ass like he wants to own you.

You start to make a joke about being surprised to find he’s an ass man, but then he dips his head, works an open-mouthed kiss right where the swell of your breasts begin.  You whine at the sensation and thread your fingers through his hair.  You hold him there, and the desire coursing through you—the sharp ache between your thighs, the prickly-hot flush across your skin—makes you feel fuzzy, light-headed.  You remember he asked you a question, so you answer him, nod hard and mumble yes, he’s making you feel good, he’s making you feel amazing, but what about him?

“Don’t worry about me.”  He nips at your collarbone, runs his tongue along the line of it, dips his tongue into the divot at the base of your throat.  “Wanna make you come, honey.”

Hearing those words come from his mouth makes your desire rachet up higher, hotter.  You grip his hair harder, whine out his name, but then he adds, “you gonna be my good girl and come for me?”

There’s no way he could have known of your praise kink, so it’s just a lucky guess, but the unexpected phrase—my good girl…fuck if it doesn’t make you cock-drunk and stupid.  No other guy really ever cracked the code of that kink for you.  A few had made half-hearted attempts when you mentioned it, but Bob Floyd stumbles over it immediately, and your mind goes blissfully blank:  yes, you want to be his good girl.  Yes, you want to come for him.  Whatever he wants.  Anything he wants.  Everything he wants.

You let go of your hold on his hair, and you cup his face again, tilt his head up so you can kiss him.  “Yes,” you whisper just before you slot your mouth over his, push your tongue against his, kiss him so deeply that you’re sharing the same breath, mapping the inside of his mouth with your tongue, memorizing every bit of him you can.  Yes, yes.  Yes to all of it.

Mind blank, your pleasure overtakes you:  you feel the heat and friction from where he sets you grinding against him, you feel the bulge of his cock hitting you perfectly, and every bit of him—his subtle cologne, the soft feel of his hair, the quiet little groans he makes, the flex of his muscles as he holds you—pushes you close to the edge.  You teeter there, you ride him faster, the seam of your shorts pressing deliciously against your swollen clit, but it’s his words that push you over.  His quietly domineering orders.

“Come for me,” he whispers, and it’s a harsh, punched-out sound that makes your stomach swoop when you hear it.  “My good, sweet girl.  Come for me.”

Your orgasm breaks around you like a wave, and Bob releases his hold on your ass to draw you closer to him, let you ride it out as you shudder against him.  Both arms wrapped around your waist as pleasure sparks outward from your core, travels up your spine and courses through your limbs until your head is swimming and he’s tucking you against him.

“That’s it,” he whispers into your hair.  “Good girl.  So fucking good for me.”

And all you can respond with is yes, yes.  Only for you, Bobby.

[tojifile]

@Muzan Kibutsuji . . . (＾＾＃)

Tags: husband!muzan, emotionally dependent reader, f!reader, violence, suggestive, manipulation, muzan is taller than you, mansplaining if you squint, huge daddy issues, toxic relationship

A/N: Thinking about husband!muzan and his wife who’s emotionally dependent on him. She’s a huge crybaby but Muzan loves how dependent she is on him. He loves the dominance he has over her. THIS IS FOR WOMEN WITH DADDY ISSUES WHO WANT TO BE TAKEN CARE OF IN THE MOST TOXIC WAY IMAGINABLE. The relationship and everything is super toxic but I love those and honestly, red flags get me going! (I am a bad example of what you should do with your life, do not copy) Merry Christmas Eve to my ho ho hos! 🎄

p.s. an anon just requested for a Muzan’s wife runs away after finding out so that may be after this, just know that I love toxic relationships with guys like Muzan :)

husband!muzan who only goes out at night. He tells you he has a skin condition that started when he was a kid. There was no known cure, so his “company” constantly tries to find information on possible cures for people with the same disease.

husband!muzan who seemed like the perfect partner, dotting on you, always buying you gifts. He’d buy you things that reminds him of you which made you all the more attached. You loved his attention and how he constantly babies you.

husband!muzan who you caught consuming a woman during a stroll. It was already past 7PM but you decided to go out for a walk. Everything was good, the streets were bustling with different kinds of people, all smiling and happy—that was until you got to a rather secluded area.

You heard loud cries coming from a narrow alley. The screams lured you in. At the back of the alley was where you saw your husband—Muzan Kibutsuji, devouring a helpless young woman. He immediately sensed your presence and turned around.

He swiftly got in front of you and covered your mouth with his palm. “Hello, my love, I trust you enjoyed your evening stroll?” He spoke, his voice dripping with an eerie yet sweet, confusing feeling. You only looked at him with teary eyes in response.

husband!muzan who tries to reason with you but he didn’t even need to say anything. You still wanted him.

Such a shame that you had to find out about his secret, “Kibutsuji-kun..” was all you could mutter after he removed his palm from your mouth. You then started to cry in his arms as he caressed your hair, calming you down. God, he was so sweet towards you.

A few lines of blood dripped down the corners of his mouth. He looked down at you with a soft smile on his face. His suit and pants were stained with the blood of his victim but that didn’t bother him.

Most—no, all of his past wives would’ve been crying and yelling about how much of a liar and monster he is and/or running away. But here you were in his arms, you cried because you didn’t know how to react. You were scared that he’d leave you because you found out his secret.

husband!muzan who is happy to know that you’ve truly submitted yourself to him. He loves the feeling of being in control. It was adorable, the way you melted into his arms, even after you saw him consuming another human being.

husband!muzan who promises to never hurt nor leave you. He just loved controlling you a bit too much. It got him excited, knowing that he comes home to such a cute little human wife who he doesn’t have to hide his true form from.

husband!muzan who then escorts you home while holding you by the waist. Telling you about how you shouldn’t go out at night without him. He doesn’t want other demons to mistake you for a lowly human.

husband!muzan who was just really turned on by the events. As soon as you got home he had you on the bed, kissing you softly. He didn’t even have to use force with you. You were just so happy to submit to the man who gave you affection.

husband!muzan who sometimes lets his fangs sink in your skin. Just for you to tremble and whimper under his touch. He loved it when you would cling onto him and he loves the little noises you’d make whether it be from pain or pleasure.

husband!muzan who tells himself that he’s only staying with you and treating you like this because you’re a valuable asset, one that could keep his facade going.

husband!muzan who slowly submits to your affection genuinely, especially after that night.

husband!muzan who always makes you feel safe and taken care of. He might be the demon king but he can’t let his wife be let down. Muzan Kibutsuji was too much of a loving husband to let that happen.

husband!muzan who treats you like a child that needs to be guided. He can’t have you forming your own thoughts now, right? That would corrupt your innocent little mind. He couldn’t let you turn against him now that he was so attached to you.

husband!muzan who loves to pamper you like a little doll. He loves the idea of using you over and over. Although he doesn’t understand why he’s so attached to you, he just lets it happen. You were still a benefit to him anyway.

And finally.. husband!muzan who has you numb every time he’s had a bad night. Getting you to do nasty things with him, knowing you’re always so needy for his attention.

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