#and then he never fuckin logged on again-

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

REDAMANCY. 18+

pairing. logan howlett x fem!reader word count. 3915 summary. you often worry you can never keep up with your husband's continuous acts of love and care, your attempts always seeming to come up short. logan catches on and shows you that there’s nothing for you to prove. warnings. 18+ only!! reader has a moment of inadequacy at the beginning, logan being attentive<3 quick description of thigh riding but it's not proper, titty kissing, fingering, cum eating? (licks his fingers) pinv sex. angst start, fluff middle, smut ending. mdni a/n. #needthat

Feelings of inadequacy seem to follow you like a stray dog. The constant, repetitive thought that what you do or say or think or feel may never be enough. But it was silly really, to be afraid of the contents of your own mind, especially when you had no reason to feel that way.

You thought these feelings were controlled, contained even. But as you anxiously twist your wedding ring upon your left finger, you can’t help but slip into that prior mindset you believed to be packed away. You beside the stove, mindlessly watching the simmering pot of tonight's dinner, staring at the vegetables bubble around in the sauce. 

It was Logan’s favourite, and it was a token of your appreciation for yet another grand gesture of his love towards you – the thanks a slither of what he does for you on the daily. But as you watch over the chicken pie filling in the saucepan, you can’t help but notice something missing, something that’s supposed to be there but isn’t. 

And when you blink from your fixed, hazed stare, you see exactly what you need on the countertop. The chopped up pieces of bacon on the board —his favourite part— sitting there like it’s mocking you, telling you that you’re terrible for forgetting it. And it’s not like you can add it now, it would be horrible and ruin it completely. 

All you can do now is move on, move past it. Though now it feels like you can do anything but. The bacon a reminder of your apparent failures, inadequacies. It was silly to be caught up on missing meat, but it wasn’t just about that – it was like it was even more proof that you were out of your depth with Logan. That forgetting the bacon somehow made you a horrible, horrible person.

You stare at the board for a moment, trying so desperately hard not to let it get to you and then you see Logan walk past the window – a couple fresh chopped logs of wood under one arm, an axe and a bunch of wildflowers in the hand of his other. And somehow the sight made you feel nothing short of awful. His thought and care once again overshadowing your attempts.

You quickly wipe under your eyes, an act of precaution to make sure nothing had seeped from you while you beat yourself up over something so tiny. You follow the sound of the front door opening, the scuffling of his boots following shortly after as he places down the pieces of timber. 

“Smells fuckin’ good,” he compliments, the warm, homely smell hitting at his nose immediately. 

He walks over to you, right, flower-held hand tucked from your view as he moves to stand behind, free arm reaching for your waist the second he’s close enough. 

“I got’ya somethin’,” he whispers behind you, punctuating his sentence with a kiss under your ear – his neck peering round and over your shoulder. 

You turn into him, your back against the edge of the counter to see what you already knew to be in his hand. He pulls the flowers from behind his back, the stems cut neatly with the help of his adamantium tools. They’re beautiful, all hand picked from the surrounding forest around the cabin. 

He guides them to your hand, noticing your unusual hesitation as you stare at the bouquet. He, too, pauses, looking over your face to understand your silence. Did you hate them? You never usually hate them.

“Do you…” he hesitates, trying to find the words. “Hate them?”

“No,” you say, word soft as you shake your head, the motion just as gentle as your voice.

Logan cocks his head slightly, angling to meet your eyes but you only divert them again, turning away from his gaze as you reach for the bunch of flowers. Only now they’re out of your grasp, his hand to his chest. 

“You okay?” he asks, the withdrawal of the gift an attempt to make you meet his eyes. 

“Yeah,” you lie with a nod, a small, faint, smile accompanying the fib. 

“You’re not lying to me, are you?” 

You look over him quickly, expression bashful as you shrug. He hates when you lie to him, especially about these things. It was only a white lie really, just a small, teeny tiny mistruth to spare yourself from embarrassment. But your silence doesn’t last long.

“I messed up dinner,” you admit, the confession pried from you by his prolonged, patient silence. Your words are quiet as you avoid his eyes, instead staring down to his chest.

He glances past you and into the saucepan, seeing no such fault. He faintly shakes his head, features quizzical as he tries to understand.

“It looks good to me,” he says, with a slight, but genuine shrug – unable to see what you see.

You close your eyes with a sigh, the noise light and airy as your head drops, gaze lowering. 

“I forgot the bacon.”

His head cocks once again, the motion like he’s growing more and more confused. 

“Yeah?” he prompts, trying to get you to say more. 

But that’s all there is to say, you forgot the bacon – that’s it. It wasn’t like it was a pause or the beginning of some speech.

“It’s your favourite part,” you reply, defeat evident in your voice. 

“Uh-uh?” he guides you through your confession, still unsure of what the issue is. He knew there was more, he just had to ease it out of you. 

“It’s your favourite part,” you repeat, momentarily glancing up to meet his eyes. “It’s not your favourite meal if I forget your favourite part,” you cut yourself short as your voice begins to waver, a bubble forming in your the back of your throat. 

He holds onto your short eye contact, following your gaze when your head goes to turn. “Come on now, talk to me,” he offers his comfort, speaking like it was a plea.

“I feel like I can never keep up.”

“Keep up with what?” he questions, desperate to keep you talking. 

“With you,” you pause and place your hand over your opposite upper arm, the act a brief moment of self soothing. You exhale softly before continuing. “You do all these nice things for me— see? Look,” you point to the flowers in his hand. “Right there. You thought of me and you got them and they’re beautiful. Why can’t I do that?”

Logan opens his mouth to speak, though you’re keen to continue. The bandaid free and invoking all your feelings to come out at once. 

“I make you desserts, I make a mess. I buy you something, I buy the wrong thing. I make your favourite dinner, I ruin your favourite dinner,” you pause, your vision growing blurry. “Sometimes,” you pause once more, wiping your eyes. “Sometimes I don’t know if you know how much I love you. Like, I can never seem to prove it and I don’t—” you cut yourself off, stopping yourself from what you were about to say. You didn’t want to make a further mess of things. 

“You don’t, what?” he asks, his attention undivided as he listens to you. “You don’t, what?” he repeats, eyes boring into yours as he urges a response from you. 

“Want you to feel like you made a mistake,” you confess, voice quiet like you were ashamed for thinking such thing. 

“Do you think I made a mistake?” he questions, flipping your moment of insecurity back on you. Though his words hold no malice, no intention of hurt – just simply speaking like he was trying to figure you out. 

Your silence speaks louder than any words could. Your eyes quickly flickering over his face like you were anticipating what he may say in response. It could go one of two ways: irritated and angry or soft and hurt. 

“I haven’t,” he says, voice as firm as his eyes. “I know I haven’t,” he repeats, trying to engrain it into you. 

All you can offer Logan is a faint, flattered smile, fragments of disbelief just as evident within you as before. One thing about your husband you knew to be forever true, is his earnest nature. So you knew he wasn’t telling you what you wanted to hear only to spare himself.

Logan places the flowers on the counter to the right of you, laying the bunch neatly at your side. He keeps his attention on you, eyes fixed on yours as if he’s trying to prove his sincerity – his honesty. 

His head drops slightly as he rests his lips against your forehead. “Do you believe me?” he asks gently against your skin, punctuating his question with a kiss to where he just spoke.

You wrap your arms around him as you tuck your face into his neck, hands connecting in the middle of his back. “Yeah,” you reply, word muffling into him. 

It was a lie, a partial lie at that. You knew in your heart —deep, deep in there— that it was true, and that you believed it, but right now? You just couldn’t get it into your head. So you lied, not wanting to run around in circles with repetitive asks all evening.

But this is Logan, he knows your tells and when you’re lying. But he doesn’t poke any further, instead pressing another kiss to your forehead before pulling away, clearing his throat briefly. 

“Why don’t you go lay in the tub,” he starts, usual gruff voice now soft, speaking like he’s trying to soothe you. “I’ll finish that off,” he gestures with his eyes, nodding to the stove top on the other side of you. 

You turn to look at the ‘mess’ beside you and nod, accepting his help with no more deflecting or avoiding. And as you step aside, you stroke over his back where your hands laid just moments before, the act another one of your silent thanks.

His left, ringed hand brushes your left, ringed hand as you move from your placement in front of him, your fingers loosely entwining for a short, brief second before passing. 

⎯ ☆ ⎯

Standing in front of the dresser in your shared bedroom, you change from your towel and into something a little more comfortable – opting for a robe and slippers. You give yourself a quick glance over as you pass the mirror on your way out the room, though you don’t take too much notice, instead flicking off the light switch as you set off to the living room.

The bath helped. It helped massively, actually. 

Your slippers scuffle along the hallway of your cabin, the floorboards worn and creaky by it’s old age. Lingering in the doorframe, you look over at Logan on the sofa, elbows resting on his knees as he stares at the lit fireplace ahead – looking as though he’s lost in thought.

“Hi,” you start, capturing his attention.

His eyes flick up to you, a faint —his usual— smile welcoming you back. He clears his throat like he’s going to speak but instead he taps the empty seat on the couch beside him.

You look around the open space before your eyes land on the orange, warm light shining out of the oven and onto the tiles. The pie you started to make now sitting on the centre shelf. The rest of your messes cleaned and tucked away, all evidence hidden. And there he sits, asking for no recognition – no praise or approval for cleaning up after you. He’s just there, patiently awaiting you.

“How long’s it been in?” you ask, gesturing to the oven. “The pie,” you add, turning to look at him with a smile.

“Three minutes,” he reciprocates your warmth as he nods you over to him. 

“Did you let the pastry warm up?”

He nods.

“And the—” 

“Taken care of,” he interrupts, slipping his hand into yours. He guides you to stand between his legs, eyes honed in on you above. Like he’s anticipating you, he answers the question you’re about to ask – once again proving just how well he knows you. 

“Cooked it in ‘nother pan then added it on top,” he replies, speaking casually.

You stifle a laugh as you shake your head – it was really a simple fix. 

With his gaze still focused on you, he begins playing with your left hand, his thumb mindlessly grazing your ring – the fiddling an absentminded act. As if he’s reminding him and yourself of your marital bond.

“Thank you.”

He hums, the sound far more gentle than his typical rough ones. It’s like he’s acknowledging your appreciation without taking the credit for it.

You extend your free hand, reaching for the side of his face, touch light as you brush over his cheek. Your thumb traces under his eye, soothing over the tired skin as you take a step closer – silently instructing him to lean against the back.

Logan does as wordlessly asked, his hips rolling underneath himself as he repositions, sitting in a manspread for you. He follows your movements as you sit on his lap, straddling one of his beefy thighs, your arms briefly hooking around his neck as you do so. He looks up at you from your very, very slight height advantage, eyes keen as he gazes into yours – staring like he’s trying to read you. You seem far lighter, far happier than the last time he saw you. 

One hand rests on his cheek, the other grazing through the shorts of his dark hair – your hold gentle and dear as you press a string of soft, slow kisses across the stubble of his beard. One by one you get closer to his mouth, reaching his lips by the fourth. 

His hands move up you from behind, skimming across the cheeks of your ass until they’re resting on your hips, the presence of his hold noticeable through the robes' thin fabric. He begins a pawing – irregular, needy squeezes into you like he’s silently communicating his thoughts and wants, scoping out whether you feel the same. 

“How much time is left on the pie?” you quietly ask, speaking against his lips. Your question also an attempt to scope him out.

His grasp around you tightens, the slight force of his hold making your grind against his thigh. “Enough,” he prompts, murmuring into your mouth – lips not yet daring to connect.

He grinds you over your thigh, the motion slow and leisured as he holds you over him, working you up little by little. Gentle exasperated breaths from you caught between your closeness. 

Upon hearing those sounds he loves ever so much, he pulls you into him, wrapping you into a brief, momentary hug before turning and laying you on the empty space of sofa beside him. He adjusts, situating above you but to your side, weight anchored beside you. 

You look up at him sweetly, eyes flickering over his face in the same way he does you – specks of admiration and lust forming within each of your glances. You adjust under him, the act like you were trying to redirect him, guide him to above rather than to your side. Wanting to feel him graze up against you.

Logan brings his free hand to the side of your face, touch heavy and desperate as he thumbs over your cheek, holding you there as he presses a couple lengthy kisses to your lips – the contact anything but brisk. And with that hand around the swell of your cheek, he’s grazing it down your neck, trailing towards your chest. 

He parts the loose, flimsy material of the robe, parting the fabric so he can slip a hand inside. Cupping one of your bare tits, he pulls it out from underneath – the full weight of your breast held within his warm, large hand. All of it on display for him to marvel at from above. 

Angling his neck, he reaches for your tit, tongue swiping over the nipple just moments before his lips encompass it. The warmth of his mouth making your stomach tingle and fingers tighten in his hair, a jolt-like roll of your hips accompanying your desperate micro actions.

He holds himself there for a prolonged moment, keeping his lips to your nipple as his fingers begin a very slight pawing around the lower swell of it. The motion like he’s rolling you within his hold. A streak of residual wet being left behind as he pulls his head up from your chest.

You look down to him between your tits, his face just mere inches from yours. One of your breasts still within Logan’s manly hold, the pad of his thumb rubbing over your priorly sucked nipple — the act a soothing caress. 

“Where’d you want me?” he asks, voice quiet between your close distance. “What’d you want?” he adds, just as softly as before, speaking like his one goal is to provide service. Service to you. 

You make a faint, disgruntled whine upon his questioning, your mind whizzing with thoughts of him, ideas of him. The feel of his cock growing hard against your thigh only making your head race faster. 

He shifts above you, lips reaching for yours as his hand around your tit travels down and between your thighs. The warmth of his touch is nothing like your warmth. He slips behind the opening of your robe, his fingers itching to your bare cunt ever so slowly, moving like he’s trying to help you decide. Though he’s doing the complete opposite — making it all the more challenging to answer with your mind whirring like it is. 

He lines the crease of your cunt with the pad of his finger, brushing up and down with the lightest, faintest of touch — his lips resting against yours so he can swallow your jittery breaths. The strokes from him are almost mindless, brushing over you like he’s unaware of the effects he has on you. Still has on you after all this time. 

“This?” he whispers against your mouth while his finger trails up the slit of your pussy, grazing over your folds.

You nod against him in response, the motion gentle and careful.

Logan teases over your cunt’s lips, collecting the slight build up of slick to smear and trace over you — spreading your arousal with his light touch. Working you up the and more. He pulls away to look over you, wanting to watch your face. 

And when your eyes find his, that’s when he slips his middle finger into you. Holding onto your gaze as he presses inside with the utmost of ease. 

It was what you needed, not what you wanted. And he could tell — the knitting of your brows and slightly unsatisfied crumple of your nose telling him before you even got a chance. And as you open your mouth to speak, mere milliseconds away from asking him to add another, he’s already lining his ring finger up with you, slipping it inside to accompany his middle. 

The steady rocking of him further blurs any sense of coherency in your mind, the slow massage-like fucking of his fingers against your g-spot loosening you up nicely for him. 

Your hand in his hair moves to the side of his face, grip desperate as you hold him there, muffling incoherent words of thanks — each murmur being overshadowed by those blissed noises he can never seem to get enough of. And while you keep his face to yours, your other hand is reaching for his arm between your thighs, fingers struggling to enwrap the meat of his upper wrist. 

The pumping of his fingers into you is steady, each graze of him from the inside coming from a place of leisure, like the concept of haste is the furthest thing in his mind. 

Though, he’s only human and there’s only so much he can take. Especially when you’re squirming under him like you are. The clicking of his fingers in your pussy only making it harder on him. 

So, he slowly retracts from the wet warmth of your cunt, strings of your cum remaining connected to him, until they don’t. And as he pulls himself away from you, he licks over his knuckles, lapping over the milky white band you left around him.

Logan sits on his heels between your thighs as he unbuckles his jeans, his dry hand tasked with the job of unbuttoning. He gives the band a hasty tug down, the act nothing short of pure desperation. 

He digs down the front to grab a hold on himself, grasp tight around his dick as he pulls it out over the top of his jeans. Cock hard and heavy within his hold. And as he gives himself a few preparatory strokes as he leans back over you in his prior hovered position — weight anchored on his free arm beside your head.

Guiding his cock to you between the opening of your robe, he pushes his head through your lips, collecting your arousal like it’s his personal, endless supply of lube. And only when he deems himself ready, he’s lining up with you, the tip of his dick pressing up against you for a brief moment before he’s easing in. Slowly but surely feeding himself into your cunt. 

Upon the entry of his thick, heavy cock, your hands fly up to his face, holding either cheek to keep him close, lips skimming like they did just minutes before. Breath being caught in your throat, the air almost trapped as you feel him sink further and further inside, filling you entirely with himself.

He stills, keeping the whole, full length of his cock plugged inside, the motion of his hips non-existent as he gives you a quick second to get reacquainted with his size. He lowers his head, pressing his forehead against yours while he catches his own breath, the suction-like feel from your cunt having the same effect on him as he does you.

You squirm underneath him and your knees cling to his sides, keeping him glued to you.

“Move,” you whisper, the word like that of pure need. “Come on.”

His lips straighten against yours, a subtle smile forming. “Thought’ya liked the buildup,” he speaks quietly. 

The hand that was around his dick, feeding into you, now rests on your face — carefully manhandling you and keeping you put. Logan nips at your lips quickly, pressing a chaste kiss to them as he rolls his hips into you, bumping his cock up.

“That’s what you wanted?” he teases, pressing a kiss just under your chin, making you tilt your head back. Hand moving with the motion of him, palm grazing to rest at the base of your throat. “It is, ain’t it?” he continues with his teasing, muttering between kisses along your jaw. “Hm?”

You hum, the noise sounding like a whine amongst your other blissed sounds. The concept of formulating coherent speech seeming to be far too difficult with the way he feels inside of you. All you can do is squeeze your eyes closed and nod, unable to do anything more than that – just lay beneath him, taking his tender, loving fucking. 

Logan’s one true goal: to replace all prior feelings of pain with pleasure, wanting to make you forget about your upset from before. And with the way his dick is winding into you, he’s getting closer to that goal. 

⎯ ☆ ⎯

including the moodboard bc she’s cute

[chrolloluvr]

💸 Ways Toxic!Mammon takes over your life as your controlling, doting boyfriend (pt.1?) 💸

Note: Female!Reader, AFAB (Whoever came up w/ voxtok shout out to you!!!), this also takes place before Fizz quit. Also not proofread!

Warnings: semi nsfw, cussing, manipulation, slut shaming, killing, dominance, toxic relationship goals!

Social media. As we all are aware, he has a huge influence online. He has millions and even billion of fans, which he can exploit and persuade very easily. He controls your accounts, people you follow, the things you post (if he even lets you post at all), etc. He controls all of your comments, and filters them. One time, your best friend had left a comment that said, "Damn girl, looking fine ASF", And he was fuming. He forbid you from ever seeing that 'friend' ever again.

You most likely have to make a secret account that you post on. And its very popular. It may consist of you talking about Mammons icks, dancing videos with him (you convinced him, because you told them they were privated.), which all most likely get millions of views. But lets hope Mammon does not find it, or else he will not be happy with you.

How you two as a couple are perceived. He cares alot about his public image. So he will pay out media outlets and news stations to percieve you, himself and your relationship in a good light. So lets say Mammon is getting "cancelled", (he never in a million years actually would, too many people look up to him and adore him.) for bringing supposed groupies backstage after an event he is hosting. Even if he actually did, he would pay the media huuuge amounts of money to get himself out of trouble. Same goes for you. Your poor choices reflect onto him as well, since you two are a very public couple.

Like I have said before in previous posts, you two are definitely the most watched, reported and popular couple in Hell. Sinners and native demons admire the dynamic between you two. So lets say you lash out at a fan for getting their camera too close to you? And then that fan posts footage on Voxtok or Sinstagram, you may get some backlash.

Lets be honest, Mammon probably wont jump to defend you unless it involves him in some way. If it does not involve him, he will block some people by logging into your account, (because he knows all of your passwords), but nothing more.

The clothes you wear. He buys you your clothes, so in his mind, he has every right to choose what goes on your body. If he sees you wearing something revealing, he will tell you 'you look like a slut babe. Where are you going, the fuckin' strip club?' He says shit like that even if your showing an inch of stomach. He for the most part wants you to wear things he chooses. He prefers if you two are matching all the time, but if you are just going out to get groceries, he likes when you wear oversized sweatshirts/hoodies, with leggings. I know its an oddly specific combo, but he thinks it doesn't show off any of your supple skin, and you look so appealing. Especially if its a brand Mammon owns. Mans will go feral. I feel like every time you leave the house with or without him, he will be sitting on the couch, saying 'C'mon, you know the drill cutie. show daddy what your gonna wear, yeah?'

He loves it when he sees you in a natural, underdressed state alone at home. His by far most treasured thing he likes to see on you, is you either in your bra and matching panties, or you in an oversized t shirt and panties with no bra. He especially likes those really dainty, "girly" colors and patterns. He likes seeing you dress feminine.

Calling him daddy. Yes you heard me. He has a huge power influx, and having you call him that fuels the fire in his ego. If its the morning, and you yawn and stretch out a tired, 'good mornin' daddy', he is hard. And this isn't even a fully sexual thing for him, since he isnt all that sexual extremely often. He just loves being called daddy. But if it were somebody else calling him that, they would get the death stare and an upset Mammon. But with you, he likes dominating you. So call him daddy. It will get him in a good mood, and If you want something from him? A daddy or two wont hurt.

Who you talk to. Once you two are together, he with subtly cut people out of your life that he thinks are a threat to your relationship. He will try to cut off any of your male friends or if you had any, your ex's. This sneaky man will probably send photos of you giving him head that he took without your permission. And he will never tell you he did that. Anyways, once he gets rid of all of these people, he will convince you that 'ohhh, princess, c'mon dont get your panties in a twist. Maybe they are just on vacation, you dont gotta act like a little whiny bitch-'. And by vacation, he means threatened, or killed.

He does not want you being influenced by anybody but himself. And especially not by any men. One of his many influx of issues is his jealousy/possession, (which I will get into on another post.) SO really the only other person besides himself that you can talk to are people he has met, and are proven to him to not uphold any power against him.

Meaning he will never let you meet Asmodeus. He is a horrible influence in his mind, and he does not was Ozzie to make you aware of his manipulation tactics. He may let you meet Beelz or Lucifer, but never Ozzie. He is the embodiment of lust, which is like toxic waste for your mind.

You bank account. If you need him to send funds, he will as long as you give him a little kiss on the cheek. But if you have been a bad girl, you might need to work for his money. If he is feeling particularly nice today, he will text you, sending a photo of the transfered funds he sent you, reading 25k+ sent. He loathes in the 'oh no you didn't have to Mamm' he gets from you, or the 'I feel bad, send it back!' Because in reality, he does not like to spend his money on anything useless. And to him, you aren't useless. So sharing some of his "hard earned" cash truly shows how he trusts and believes you wont go out on a limb for him.

And plus, now that your with him, he has taken all of your funds. He wont tell you that, even thought it didn't matter, considering how little you had compared to his trillion dollar net worth. So if you ever do stupidly decide to leave him, you wont be able to.

Puts a tracker on you, or has his goons follow you. This is another thing you are blissfully unaware of. He has an unreleased app on his phone, where he can see wherever you are at all times. While you were sleeping in your shared bedroom, he would put a tracker chip deep into you ear. So that he doesn't have to worry about his most prized possession running away when he isn't around. Or if he cant physically see you and he wants to? He has some loan sharks or his bodyguards follow you silently. I think awhile back, Mammon developed "Mammons Super Secret Spy Glasses", a product made for naive kids, and was released to the masses. But that transformed into an opportunity to exploit his goons into using them to spy on you. Do they want to creepily follow you? No. But can they refuse. Absolutely not. Nobody can refuse Mammon.

If somebody does take you somewhere, he will have his goons kill them, but come to the location and make it look like he killed them for your sake.

Controls where you can and cant go. He 100% does this. He wouldn't even let you in the vicinity of any kind of smoke shop, strip club, etc. He wants you to stay innocent, and naive for him. Meaning he will never let you in the lust ring, which alludes to the fact that him and Ozzie... aren't on the best terms per say. But will let you in any other ring under severe supervision. He cant have you doing any stupid shit to mess with his public image.

He wont even let you roam around in his own ring, because he is well aware of how dangerous it has become. He doesn't want his pretty little thing being kidnapped by some dirty, greasy men on the streets. But if you really want to go somewhere, he will let you go near there, but he will cover your eyes with his top two hands, and guide your waist with his bottom pair of hands somewhere he deems safe.

I also think he would follow you to the bathroom, and he would definitely offer to (does anyways) wipe for you.

How you act. Once you two are together, you will learn things the Mammon way. He will teach you how to become his esteemed future wife, and soon you might even have his kids (when he feels like babytrapping you, but that might be a later work.) He will teach you his version of manners, such as how to sit properly on his lap, teaching you how to french kiss (Which he assumes is your first time kissing somebody), How to sit still properly on his large cock, How to rock your hips just right-

He just wants you to be prepared for him. If he comes home at night, he expects the usual kiss on the cheek, asking him how his day was, and then the finale, which consists of your naked body and your legs being spread wider than his shit eating grin. He just wants to be ready to blow your back out, not having to worry about wasting time.

In the morning, he wants his breakfast served by none other than his obedient little princess. Then, he wants you to personally brush and floss his teeth. Then, he wants you to pick his outfit. (you will never truly get a say, he just wants to know from your perspective what makes him sexier.) And finally, the finishing act, holding your hair tightly into a makeshift ponytail, while he bobs your head up and down his cock.

Sexually frustrating you. After a while, you will miss his sexual touches. You will begin to crave them, as you will find yourself wanting him more and more. He is just so good at eating your pussy, and making you feel like your on cloud 9.

So don't be suprised if you find yourself humping his leg, as he bounces his thigh up and down to try and overstimulate you.

Makes you come to his shows. He will drag you to them. He does not care how tired you are, you will be there and sit pretty. He will let you in for free, but if you want a piece of merchandise, or some popcorn, he will make you pay. (even though its his money). When you first start dating, that is the case. But now that you two are officially an item? You sit up on the terrace with him in his webs. He has two of his left side arms wrapped around you, while he forces you to hand feed him.

And sometimes people catcall you from up above. One time, a couple dudes got drunk of Beelzejuice, and started berading you. By asking you to flash a peek of your tits, and show a little pussy. You were highly offended, but Mammon was not happy.

Those guys ended up in the E.R., but they would have died if it weren't for your expertise in calming Mammons temper. After that little incident, Mammon had later that day taken your ass on a one way ticket to pound town. So you can thank those guys, I guess...

Anyways, what if you need to use the bathroom during a show? He pauses the entire thing, because he wants you to watch how good of a planner and mastermind he is at pageants. Will literally wait outside of the bathroom door for you, and checks his watch if your taking "too long".

But anyways, he will also try to get you and Fizzarolli to be friends, since both of you are basically brainwashed by him.

The things you buy. He will not ever let you buy any cheap shit. Its a bad look on his behalf. So every time you two go out, you have to ask him if you can get something. If he deems it as "not doing anything for your look", he will make you put it back. And this goes for everything. Online orders, Voxtok shop (tiktok shop), etc. It always has to be approved by him.

Also, he will never let you buy any sex toys. He thinks his fingers, tongue and dick are more than plenty. If you ask him for any sex toys, he will call you an ungrateful little whore. So its best if you don't ask, unless you want Mammons over the top mumbling and grumbling.

Emotionally manipulating you. He will do this all the time. If he ever does something wrong, he will never admit to it. He will either never glaze over it, or will turn it on you somehow. It will start with his angry grunting, huffing, and puffing. If you ever ask him if he is ok, he will literally whip his head towards you and give you the most deadly glare you will ever see. His Aussie accent will come out very abruptly when he's mad.

Throw the worlds biggest temper tantrums. Sometimes you think hes a baby in an adult mans body. Some of his have gone on for days on end. He will pull every trick in the book. Whining and fake crying are things he has tried to use on you.

If he is really ruffled up, he will start yelling at you for no reason whatsoever. He just yells a bunch of belligerent bullshit, and does not give any reason why. Truly, the best thing to do to calm him down is spread your legs nice and wide, and let him lap at your cunt for hours. If he is 'borderline dangerous' mad, he will refuse to talk to you for a couple days. Even if you try, he wont budge. Deep down, he cares for you. And he knows that if he gives in, he might hurt you.

If he wants something from you, he will flash his infamous puppy dog eyes. (Bottom photo below), But if he is annoyed with you, he will make the deadly glare (Top photo below)

So, just try your best to keep him calm and happy. Even if that is through means you don think are necessary 💚

[2-dsimp]

Nokka being a influencer, handsome buff gym one at that, probably means he has thirsty fans in his comments/dms.

I'm not much of a jealous type, but if my husband/my man had people trying to hit him up, especially after seeing the ring on his finger or knowing he is married/taken, I'm blocking them from his social media.

I'm leaving love bites, scratches, lipstick stains, everything possible all over him just so people know he is taken.

I speak of this as if I'm also not a major crybaby and would sob and pout if I see anyone in person try to pick him up/flirt or tries to subtly even touch his muscles lol

But yeah, I would be jealous, angry and crying if anyone even tried to flirt with Nokka despite him being married to his darling.

『Featuring your yandere husband finding out about your jealousy』

——-;———;——-;————-

Cw: Wifey reader! Suggestive 🔞

——-;———;——-;————-

At first Nokka would be somewhat confused at your behavior until he sees you fuming at the comments underneath his workout videos. Of which he doesn’t really bother checking unless it’s to answer genuine questions about his workout regime.

He’d look over your shoulder peeking at what the hell was upsetting his wife only to stumble upon thirst comments that he never peeped at before. Since he was mainly focused on getting his workout routine done.

Nonetheless your husband had a shit eating grin from finding out how his cute wife got so worked up over him. And would basically spoil you with presents that you ranted about wanting to have.

Amazon packages would be randomly delivered to y’all’s home periodically. Namely, when you’re acting out on your possessiveness for him. As if to reward you for taking pride of being his wife. And claiming him as yours.

He’d also hand you his phone and straight up tell you to get rid of “the spam” clogging up his notifications. As he nonchalantly manhandles you into his lap as he switches on the tv to the sports network.

Nokka would always demand that you handle his phone, wether to send a text, check his phone logs for him, or to take a nude picture for his camera roll gallery collection tilted “my wife”

As much as he find your jealousy over him down right attractive. He hates any indication of you doubting his loyalty to his dearest wife. So at times he’ll be sure to remind you that you’re his wife and that he’s your husband.

“Whose dick does this belong to? Speak up wife I anit finna ask ya again! And You better scream it loud for me… Uh huh that’s right baby all this is yours, and don’t you ever fuckin forget that.”

[macfrog]

call me

idea came to me in a dream. enjoy also! i made a notifs blog! taglist life is NOT for me, babies. feel free to head on over, follow and turn notifs on to be updated anytime i post! 👉 @macfroglets 👈 you’re gonna wanna do it before this sunday…😉🤠

inspired by @bageldaddy who is the author of the dreamiest series on this site, my biggest crush, and also told me not to tag her but i respect my elders so.

pairing: joel miller x call girl!reader

summary: you moonlight as a call girl, receiving mediocre call after mediocre call. one night, one joel miller dials in, and grants you the most exciting ten minutes of your career

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) this fic is pro-sex work. reader is a phone sex operator, mentions of anal and oral, dirty talk, couple mentions of daddy, praise kink, mutual masturbation, alcohol consumption, cursing

word count: 3k

main masterlist

“What now, baby?” you whisper, laughing to yourself. You’re palming at your breast, your fingers pulling in around your nipple. Your core begins to throb. “You’re gonna touch yourself.” “That what you want?” “’s what I want, angel. Do it for me.”

It started out as a joke, if you’re being honest.

A wine-drunk night with Liv, sat at opposite ends of the couch, legs intertwined somewhere in the middle of the cushions. Her blouse was stained pink – your fault, apparently, for making her laugh too hard. Her glass tilted a fraction too far and before you knew it, you owed her a new shirt.

“Say it again, say it how he said it,” she snorted, patting her chest down with the damp towel you’d handed her.

“…quite frankly, disappointed with your performance,” your head tilted back and forth, mocking the nasally voice of your fifty-one-year-old, receding-hairline-equipped boss. Ex-boss. Asshole.

“Oh, fuck,” she heaved, still catching her breath. “That’s so fucking funny.”

You sighed in agreement.

“So…what are you actually gonna do now?”

You shrugged. “Sell my body.”

“Dare you.”

“I would.”

“I know you would. And you’d be good at it, too. ‘s why I’m telling you to do it.”

You kicked her ankle. “I got bills to pay, dude.”

“What about one of those call girls?”

And, well. That was that.

You’d googled it after seeing her off to her own apartment, watching her wobbly form stagger across the hall and stab her key a few times into the wood before it landed in the lock. The door closed with an accidental slam which echoed up the stone stairwell, and you crept back to your own place.

Palms either side of your laptop on the counter, face lit in a blue glow, dripdripdrip of your busted tap echoing around your dark kitchen. They asked for an email address – you used the one you’d made up before you realized email addresses were permanent – and a phone number. Said someone would call you to discuss it. You shrugged, hit Sign up and went to bed.

Within hours, you’d spoken to some sharp-accented woman who asked quick, snappy questions and uhuhed her way through your answers. Her name was Erica. She told you she’d look after you, told you to call her with any questions or concerns you had.

All she wanted from you were the basics: you liked sex, you masturbated, you knew how to dirty talk. You sorta knew your way around things like anal, and could manage a convincing pitch for things of a more…exploratory nature.

And then she asked when you wanted to start. You told her that night.

Your first caller – like, ever – was some guy with a midwestern accent who asked you to narrate fucking him. Like, spanking him with a paddle, calling him a bad, bad boy. You threw your nerves to the wind and went along with it, and honestly, had a pretty rad time. He was cool.

But one was enough for your first night. You logged out and went to bed. You told Liv the next morning, and she punched your arm a little too hard and yelled, That’s my fuckin’ girl! Was it hot? Did you…y’know?

No. You never get that lucky. Some calls you can lie idly on your couch and let your limp hand surf beneath the hem of your underwear, push lazy circles against your clit as the dude moans in your ear or gasps when you whine.

Sometimes their mics can pick up the faint sound of them jacking off, and your brain slips you an image that makes your stomach flutter. Sometimes you’ll hang up and take yourself the whole nine yards with your laptop sitting on your mattress, porn on the screen, and your vibrator between your open legs.

It’s pretty intense work. Sometimes.

But all in all: no. You never…y’know.

One week in, you were cooking dinner whilst telling Trevor – thirty-nine, Buffalo, New York – how you’d take his huge, throbbing dick in your throat and let him fuck it. He asked to hear how turned on you were, just talking about it. You lowered your phone down to the pot of macaroni and gave it a stir.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned down the line, “you’re so fuckin’ wet right now, huh?”

Huh.

Tonight, you had pizza rolls. Less sexy.

You just got off another call. Thirty minutes of describing how good you’d take him up your ass. You’re bored, turned off by this point, and tired. It’s almost 3AM.

You pace around your apartment, flicking switches off and tossing cushions back into place. Spilling small sips of wine from your glass onto your tongue as you’re plunged into darkness, one click at a time.

You don’t get much while the sun’s up. Most days, nothing at all. That works for you, though. You can run errands, grab groceries, do sweet-fucking-nothing whilst waiting for the influx of calls that will inevitably come your way by nightfall. When the streetlights come on, the rush hour traffic dies out front, the shuffling of tired feet up the concrete staircase outside your front door slows down – you just log in, and your cell will eventually start to ring.

Your cell, which now lies wedged between the couch cushions. You notice the sound of it vibrating as you’re pulling your curtains closed. Half-way shut, you desert them and wander over. Intrigued.

No Caller ID. The usual. You swipe right. The robotic voice tells you there’s a request on your account for a ten-minute call. Tells you to dial 1 to accept, or hang up.

Ten minutes? At three in the morning?

Usually, at this time of night, they’re longer. They’re drunk, or their partner finally fell asleep, or they just want your attention for a bit. See them through the uncomfortably quiet night.

But ten fucking minutes?

Ten minutes would make you somewhere around thirty-five dollars. They had the option as the timer ran out to extend the call, if they wanted. Most of them did. And that worked fine for you.

You’re unemployed. Who knows what money you’ll have in a week’s time? An extra thirty bucks – probably more – right before bed? A little nightcap?

You dial in and answer the call.

He doesn’t say anything when it connects. You hear the ruffling of clothes.

Your voice naturally dips a couple octaves, coats in something smooth and husky. Glistening, gleaming, sex-driven. “Hello?”

He clears his throat. His voice is deep, rich. More vibration than speech. He speaks with a Southern drawl, like bare skin running over silken sheets. It’s smooth, and sensual, and sexy. “Evenin’.”

You knock the last light switch off with your hip and doddle through to your bedroom. Mornin’, actually. “Hi. What’re you after, baby?”

He takes a beat to reply. More ruffling. He chuckles a little before he says it. “Baby? That what you wanna call me?”

Your glass scrapes softly across your nightstand. You bounce down on your mattress, springs moaning as you roll onto your stomach. Knees bent, your ankles link in the air. “What do you want me to call you?”

“Guess we can figure that one out together.”

“Alright. I like a challenge. You wanna start with your name?”

Another pause. He sucks in a deep breath. “Joel.”

“Joel,” you repeat, thumb picking at your nailbeds. “That’s a sexy name.”

He doesn’t respond. Just gives a non-committal grunt, and a smile pulls across your lips.

“What are you into, Joel?”

He sniffs. “Thought we could figure that out, too.”

Something in the way he says it, the curve in the words, maybe, tells you he knows damn well what he’s into. What he means is: you can figure that out by yourself.

Like you said: you like a fucking challenge.

“You like nicknames? Daddy? That kinda thing?”

A low growl passes his lips. “Not this early on, I don’t.”

You know from the hitch in his voice that he likes it. That little catch at the bottom of his throat, the way the words stumble on their way up. Know you’ve plucked a string deep inside.

“Well, you know you only got ten minutes, right?”

“I’m aware.”

“’kay,” you sing, flipping your hair over your shoulder. You exhale, drawing shapes on the pattern of your bedsheets. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinkin’ about, then? What’s on your mind, cowboy?”

Cowboy. It’s the accent. He sounds Texan, or something. His words float through the receiver all wound, coiled up and tight.

Joel doesn’t seem to care. He answers your question truthfully.

“Thinkin’ about what you’re doin’ right now.”

You smirk. Sometimes you like the attention, too. You turn your head, check the clock by your bed. Two minutes have passed.

“I’m…lying in bed, in the dark. Had a couple wines, feelin’ pretty good. But this is all about you, so.”

He chuckles softly. “’m lyin’ in bed, too. In the dark.”

“You feelin’ lonely?”

He takes another deep breath. You figure he does this before he gives most answers. He sounds the contemplative type. Always double, triple checking his sentences before he lets them go.

“Just need somethin’ to take the edge off.”

“Okay,” you breathe, “let me. What do you need?”

There’s a long break between the end of your question and the sound he makes before he answers. You pull the phone from your ear and glance at the screen to make sure it’s still connected. Time says another two minutes have passed.

Joel grumbles. It echoes around your ear like thunder in the distance. “You touchin’ yourself?” he eventually asks.

“Uhuh,” you reply, nails picking at a loose thread on your comforter.

“Yeah? How’s it feel?”

“Good,” you mewl, tugging at the seam. Your teeth grit as you yank at it. “So – fucking – good.”

There’s another growl from the other end. It vibrates through your speaker, purrs in your ear.

“You ain’t fuckin’ touchin’ yourself.”

Your hand stops. Your eyes stick on the thread. “I am.”

“You are?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me how.”

You roll your eyes, turning onto your back. Your fingers play with the buttons of your shirt. Fuckin’ – tell me how. “I’m…” you sigh, “…I’m laying in bed, on my back. My hands are –”

“What you wearin’?”

“Isn’t that the sorta stuff you oughta ask when I first pick up?”

He speaks calmer. Clearer. You can hear the smile on his lips. “’m askin’ you now. What you wearin’, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. So he’s that type. Whatever. He’s kind of pissing you off.

“A shirt. And socks. And panties. No bra.”

“’n where you touchin’ yourself?”

You huff. “Between my –”

“Watch the attitude.”

You almost fucking laugh. Your breath escapes your chest in a silent burst. “Between my legs,” you tell him, flat and annoyed.

“Mhm. Above or beneath the panties?”

“Beneath, daddy.”

A tiny groan passes his lips. He doesn’t mean for it to, and a second, angry grumble follows, like he’s pissed at himself for letting it slip.

You take a lock of hair and twirl it around your finger, pulling tight until the tip whitens. “You touching yourself?” you ask, voice sickly sweet.

Joel ignores you. “Take it off. The shirt,” he clarifies, when you don’t answer.

You shuffle around a little, making sure he can hear the movement. You unbutton the shirt until it’s lying loose over your breasts, then tug it down over one shoulder.

“Alright,” you tell him with a heavy breath, laying back on the mattress, “it’s off.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and your eyes flutter closed.

“Mhm.”

Joel chuckles under his breath. “Know when you’re lyin’, angel. Take – it – off. Don’t be a brat about it.”

This is half the game for him, you realize. This is his thing. He gives commands, you disobey them, and he kicks you into line. Tells you to behave.

You figure you like it almost as much, going by the heat pooling between your legs.

Your shoulders lift and you tug the shirt over them, tossing it to the floor. You lie back, bare against the sheets, and your hand instantly cups over your breast.

“Better,” Joel breathes.

“What now, baby?” you whisper, laughing to yourself. You’re palming at your breast, your fingers pulling in around your nipple. Your core begins to throb.

“You’re gonna touch yourself.”

“That what you want?”

“’s what I want, angel. Do it for me.”

You don’t take much more convincing. Your hand slips down your front, cups over your mound. You gasp when your fingertips brush against your clit.

Joel hears. “Yeah,” he hums, “’s a good girl. Take those panties off ‘n rub that pretty little clit for me.”

Your fingertips give one last kiss to the fabric of your panties. Your mouth tips open a fraction. You suck in a quiet breath, and push your hips up off the bed. The lace slips down your thighs in one motion.

Joel’s grunting steadily now, small noises slipping past his lips and into your ear. You spread your legs and push against your bud again, massaging the sensitive skin.

“Fuck, Joel,” you whine, and he groans in response.

“I know, I know,” he’s saying, and you hear the metal tinkle of his belt buckle. The fraying sound of denim being shifted. One slow, relief-filled groan.

His hands are on his cock.

You’d put more effort into caring that he’s been fully clothed this entire time, if you could think straight. You’re applying more pressure to your clit, rubbing faster, harder, then letting your fingers drift downward, move between your gleaming folds.

“Wish I was there with you so bad,” Joel purrs, and your eyes flutter open.

“Yeah?” you choke.

“Yeah.”

“What would you – do to me?”

He shudders. “Would fuck you real good, sweetheart.”

“Fuck,” you breathe, fingers circling faster.

There’s a gentle tugging; a rhythmic breathing. The odd break in his voice when his hand tightens, or you make a sweet little sound, or he catches himself giving too much away.

“Fuckin’ – be all over you. Nice ‘n hard. You want that?”

“Mhm,” you mewl, panting. “Want it so bad.”

“Yeah, you do,” Joel says. You can hear the sticky sound of his precum, leaking from his tip and running between his fingers, being pumped down his shaft by his fist. “Feels good, angel, don’t it? When you do what you’re told?”

“Y-eah,” you whisper.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and you picture a tight fist choking a thick cock. Picture that same fist unwinding, curving around your mound, fingers pushing deep inside you.

“Joel,” you whimper, and your fingers move down again, dipping nearer your tight, wet hole.

He grunts in response. “Don’t – not yet,” he tells you.

You whine.

“You got somethin’ else to use?” he asks, then interrupts before you can answer. “Yeah, you do. Go get it, sweetheart. Tell me what you got.”

“V-vibrator,” you mumble, hoisting yourself up and lunging across the bed to your nightstand. You haul the drawer open and sift between balled-up socks until you’re clutching the long, thick shape, fingers tight around the dips and curves.

“Let me hear it, angel.”

You click the button and the toy whirrs to life, vibrating strongly in your hand.

Joel hisses. “Alright, sweetheart, lie back. Gonna put it on that pretty little pussy, alright? Gonna make yourself cum for me.”

“Uhuh,” you murmur, one hand lowering the vibrator between your legs, the other holding the phone to your ear in a vice grip.

You push the round tip down to your clit and your head falls back with a loud moan. Joel sends one straight back at the sound of yours. It fades into a whimper, a desperate cry as you massage yourself with your toy.

Your legs clench as you dip it lower, letting the head nudge against your entrance, sending flutters of pleasure across your dripping cunt.

“Don’t fuck yourself,” Joel instructs, and your hand quickly pulls back. “Save it.”

This mystery man, who you’ve known for – if your clock is right – eight minutes, now; whose name is the most information you’ve gotten out of him; and whose face you couldn’t pick in a lineup…has such a hold on you, that your body instinctively reacts to his every word. An automatic reaction to do exactly as he says, when, five minutes ago, you couldn’t wait to get him off the phone.

You fucking listen to him. Save it for what? your head asks, and you ignore it. You don’t push the toy any closer to your center.

It drives hard against your clit, fast vibrations rippling down on the hot, swollen skin. It sends floods of warmth between your legs, drawing your arousal slick and wet from between your folds.

Your chest is damp, gleaming with sweat. Your breath cuts short in your throat, guttural noises replacing it as they reverberate through your mouth, across your tongue and into your dark bedroom.

Your walls start to clamp around nothing. You angle the vibrator so that it sends deep pulses across your pussy, shutting your eyes to picture Joel’s thick cock burying deep inside you as you climax with a loud, broken cry.

“Yeah, good girl. That’s it. Sound so pretty, angel. ‘s a good girl.”

You’re whimpering his name as you come down, holding the toy to your clit and letting your high wash over you. Your chest jumps, breaths heavy and staggered, gasping for air and then letting it rush out of your lungs in desperate pants.

“You know how good you are at that?” he asks, when your breath steadies again.

You giggle softly. “’s why I do it, baby.”

“Worth every fuckin’ penny.”

You sit in the post-orgasm haze for a few seconds, waiting for the room to stop spinning and your body to feel like yours again. You pull the phone from your sweat-stuck cheek and glance at the time. You have less than thirty seconds left. Joel seems to do the same, for his voice returns to your ear in a gentle, low whisper.

“Alright. Speak soon, angel. Be good.”

The call cuts.

----------

taglist: @slvbl @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @casa-boiardi @msjarvis @acornacreacure @totallynotastanacc @alejaa-a @aphterthoughtt @pedroluver @earthtogrogu @sexygaypalpatine @cool-iguana @serenaxpedro @lizzyervs @bitchwitch1981 @brittmb115 @stormseyer @scarletthefierce @patti7dc @pattwtf @atticrissfinch @pascalpvnk @lizzyervs @jediknightjana @jessie8605 @iknowisoundcrazy @caitispunk @vickie5446 @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi @gracieispunk @hellishjoel

(psst! after this weekend my taglist is no more! follow @macfroglets + turn on notifs if you wanna be in the know when i post!)

[rosyjn]

Can I request Jake fucking the kids baby siter?

(Neytiri is like death because in this house we hate cheating)

alr alr 🙏

warnings: tsaheylu, creampie, legal age gap

Smut warning ⛔️!! MDNI

“C’mere,” Jake coos. Eclipse has passed already, you put the kids to sleep hours ago. You peek into their tent, watching all 4 of them sleep. A snore leaves Lo’ak’s mouth, but none of them budge. The sky is dark, the bioluminescence and moons of Pandora illuminate it dimly. The blue and purple lights cast nightly shadows across the village. Jake leans against a tree, watching you check on his children.

“Coming-“ You nod, scurrying over to him. The ground momentarily lights up with your footsteps.

“Y’know how much ya do for me?” he lowly chuckles, rubbing his head. “I dunno what I’d do without ya,” his leg moves a little, and the muscles in his thighs flex for a second.

“Oh, it’s- really no problem, sir,” you assure him, lowering your head in respect. The beads in your hair make little clinking noises as some strands swoop in front of your face.

“Walk with me,” he makes a gesture with his hand and turns towards the forest, his head still facing you. You quickly hasten to him, getting next to him as your steps align. He’s so much bigger, taller, and stronger than you. The jungle of Pandora is your favorite. At night, it’s even more beautiful. In fact, you don’t know how this little coincidence happened- being alone with the mighty Olo’eyktan in the most beautiful spot. “You’ve got no clue how much I owe ya,” he croons, looking at the ground as you two wander deeper into the forest, walking on a hunting path.

“I promise, it’s nothing-“ you laugh, momentarily stopping as Jake spots a fallen log in the distance. It’s wrapped in glowing, purple vines that connect to the rest of the vegetation. He grabs your hand and you jump for a second, and he leads you off the path. His grip on you is tight- almost hurting you.

“What are you doing?” you ask, eyes dilating and ears perking up. He almost melts at the way you look at him, it’s adorable. He jumps over to the log, sitting on it. His legs are spread wide and he still holds your hand. You stand in front of him, watching him gaze up at you.

“Sit,” he says. You move to the side, turning your body to place it on the log. Jake suddenly grabs your hips and manhandles them. “No, not there. On me,” he demands. The sudden change of demeanor scares you into submission. You immediately plop your ass down onto his thick thigh, your knees knocking together in the space between his legs.

“Gotta tell you..“ his voice grows soft again, after he sees how nervous you are. “..I think ‘bout ya all the time. The way you…” he pauses, losing himself in thought.

“Mr. Sully, I-“ your cheeks change color with embarrassment. “This isn’t appropriate, sir” you tell him, standing up off of his lap.

“Sit back down,” he immediately grabs you again, roughly adjusting your body to sit back in his lap, forcing you to straddle him. You gasp, feeling his warm, muscled body against yours. Somehow, the friction through your loincloth activates something. Maybe it was the way he grabbed you, or the way he looked at you. Whatever it was, your heat enters the picture. You feel like there are butterflies in your stomach- in the most arousing way possible. “Call me Jake,” he says.

“Yes, Jake,” you reply.

“What I was saying is, you’re so fuckin’ good at what ya do. Takin care of my kids,” his hand slides up and down your body, making you shudder. “You look good doin’ it too,” he remarks. “So responsible, so pretty, so smart..” he continues, moving a strand of hair out of your face. He has never been this close to you, and he’s watching your face and body closely, to absorb every little detail that he never got the opportunity to see.

“Jake..” you whisper, pressing your face against his. He warmly accepts it, surprised that you’re reciprocating.

“C’mon, you’re killin’ me,” he groans, blood rushing to his cock faster and faster. “Please, tell me I can do it,” his hand grabs your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh.

“Do what?,” your back arches at the feeling of him.

“You know what,” he holds your body close to his with one hand, reaching for his queue with the other. You pull your face away for a second. You remain straddled around him as the tendrils of his kuru eagerly wiggle. You nod, reaching for your braid and holding it up to him. “Ready?” he asks.

“Yes,” you’re stuck in the lust. But now, you’re mating with Toruk Makto, the legendary war hero. He desperately connects your queue to his, and the sensation makes you whimper a little. An electric feeling shoots through your body, and you grab onto his shoulders desperately. Jake lowers his head, his breath hitching with pleasure. You immediately reach down for his loincloth, overcome with arousal.

“That’s it,” he growls, watching you untie his loincloth and push it away. His cock springs out at you: hard and hot. His lips press against yours, his tongue roughly invading your mouth. You kiss him back hungrily. You continue making out with him, your wet cunt soaking through your garment. Jake pushes the fabric of your loincloth to the side, discreetly moving you. He tries to position you over his dick. You follow the way he guides you, positioning your wet entrance over his tip.

“Need you to help me,” you whisper.

“I gotcha,” he reaches for your hips, slowly pushing you down onto his length. The whole time, he’s paying attention to the way you react: how you clench, how your face moves, the arch in your back, and the way your muscles clamp around his girth.

“Mmph!” you yelp as his dick penetrates you further and further. He hisses, watching how your tight cunt takes him in. You arch your back, letting him hit that spongy spot. It provokes a moan from the both of you, his tip hitting a new angle.

“Fuck,” he groans. “So tight, relax for me,”

“Oh..” you try to catch your breath, breathing in through your nose. You try to make your inhales timely and consistent. Trying your best to relax.

“You got no idea how long I’ve been wanted to do this to you,” he says in your ear, pushing your hips all the way down until his cock bottoms out inside of you. Your folds brush against his pubic area as he tightly holds you down, feeling your pussy to the fullest. You bury your head into the crook of his neck, planting lazy kisses on it while you’re there. “Can you do something?” he asks, holding and controlling your hips. He bounces you slowly up and down his length.

“Anything,” you let him kiss your head briefly.

“Tell me you want me, that ya need me,” he talks in your ear, sending shivers through your body. Your queues remain tightly connected.

“I want you, I need you,” you submit immediately, picking your head up and closing your eyes in pleasure.

“Fuckkk..” he bucks his hips up into you, making a regular paced thrust as you hold onto him desperately. Your heat swallows him desperately. Your walls feel every single vein and throb. You two fuck like animals- your bodies are moving together and the forest fills with the noises of skin slapping, squelching, moaning, and the little chitters of the Pandoran creatures of night. Your stomach coils in pleasure. Jake’s abs grow shiny with a sheen of sweat as he thrusts into you from under.

“Close?” you whimper, already feeling yourself clamp and squeeze on his girth.

“Yeah, gonna milk me dry?” he teases.

“Yes!” you arch your back even further, immersed in pleasure. Jake chuckles.

His thrusts grow erratic and rough as he chases his orgasm. You wrap your arms around him and bury your head into his neck again. Your body bounces with every rut and you moan and blabber incoherent gibberish as your body reaches the height of its pleasure. When your climax finally washes over you, electric pleasure shoots through your body, running through your kuru and forcing Jake to spill his load. His hot, thick seed shoots into you. You’re surprised by the amount. He spurts his cum over and over again, little drops dripping out of your full pussy as he groans and throws his head back.

“Haven’t came like this before,” he remarks, pulling out of you with a squelching noise and watching his semen trickle out. You stay holding on to him, still recovering from the sex. The tendrils of your queue remain tightly fastened to Jake’s.

“What are we gonna tell them?” you pant, staring off into space.

“Tell who, sweetheart?” Jake coos, rubbing your back.

“The kids,” you look up into his eyes and he pushes the baby hairs out of your face.

“I’ll tell em you’re their mama,” he coos, kissing your forehead.

[courtingchaos]

There’s Levels To This

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

A/N: oh my god It’s the beach episode! Dip your toes in kids, the water is fine. This is for my dearest @chestylarouxx who has me yearning on the daily for beach shenanigans with one Edward Munson.

Warnings: Just sex and drinking in the sun.

18+ NSFW No Minors

To say Eddie wasn’t your friend would be wrong. At every level he was dear to you, from a simple ride to work in the mornings all the way to your petty crimes partner now that the two of you were old enough to know better.

“A fall guy.” He’d said.

“Or at least someone with better eyesight.” He’d said, this time pushing your glasses back up your nose.

“Someone that has a getaway car.” He’d said while spinning his key ring around his finger. That callused digit bounces in the corner of your vision, thick and longer than yours. Nails bitten short with grime from the shop still under them.

You’re trying to hand the store over to the night manager and Eddie’s come in early. Beelined directly for you standing behind the elevated register and leaned all cool and carefree on your counter.

“I don’t want to get involved tonight Ed. Trying to leave town tomorrow if you remember.” You mutter at him while you try to finish counting the till.

“Well duh, I’m not gonna get us caught. We need to leave at what, 9?”

“We?” You lift your head and he reaches over and pushes your glasses up again.

“Yeah, you didn’t know?” He gives you mischievous smile. “Your mom invited me. Sorry you had to find out like this.”

“What’d you do to butter her up this time?” You drop the pencil on the till log and shove your hands onto your hips.

“Nothing! I simply told her how Wayne was going on his fishing trip this week too and I was gonna be rotting around the trailer all…by…my lonesome…” He leans in, props his chin on his elbow and gives you big puppy eyes.

You haven’t fallen for those in about four years.

(This is a lie. One of many but this one is a repeat offender in your repertoire of excuses for Eddie Munson.)

“Rotting?” You jerk your hand in front of your hips. “Is that what they’re calling it now?” You grab the till and hand it over to your replacement and she gives you a nod and directs a long suffering sigh at your shadow.

“You think I wait for Wayne to leave town? Barely can wait to get home sometimes.” He grins. “Your bathroom is remarkably soundproof, did you know.”

You smack him in the chest with an old stack of magazines. “You’re a pig.”

“Yeah well what’s that make you?” He follows you to the back, management having long gotten over trying to tell him anything.

“The prize pony whose stall you keep breaking into.” You seethe at him. It’s all in good fun but he still pauses in the doorway and squints at you. He opens his mouth, plush lips forming around a word before he seems to think better of it. Runs his tongue along along his top teeth and leans again while you get your stuff together.

“Do you even have swim trunks?”

“No, that’s why we’re going to goodwill.”

“Please tell me we’re not stealing from goodwill today.” You ask when you walk past him again.

(You do this thing where you never ask him to move. He wouldn’t anyways but you always use this excuse to brush against him. You think he’s gonna complain about tits pushed into his chest? Ha.)

“God no. I wanted to break into Harrington’s pool.”

“Oh, a little B and E before we skip town?” You do a little shimmy and Eddie laughs.

“Yeah. Running away to Florida with your mom and her boyfriend. So inconspicuous.”

Eddie finds the most obnoxious pair of neon pink trunks and you run him into the ground with your teasing.

“Between your pasty ass and these, you’re gonna blind those poor panhandle girls.”

“Listen pet, they’ve never seen something like me before. I’m gonna have jaws in the fuckin’ sand.” He keeps flicking through hangers of swimsuits and misses your face exploding through 10 expressions before you hack out a sound that makes his head whip up.

“Pet?!” The disgust is thick in your tone and on your face.

(Another fake out. The day Eddie stops giving you nicknames is the day you cease finding happiness.)

“Yeah you know what, I don’t like it either. I heard it somewhere and wanted to give it a shot.” He shakes his head and grimaces and quickly yanks a hanger to hold up the worlds tiniest bikini.

“Found your suit.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“You’re slime.”

“Oh come on, you need something to wear to the beach. Unless you’re going stark because then I need to rethink my whole outfit.” He snorts and playfully tosses his suit over his shoulder onto the ground.

“I’ve already got one.”

“Aw, we didn’t even get to go shopping together!”

“Eddie?” You sigh and his head pops back up over the rack after picking up his dropped clothes. “Shut the fuck up.”

He drops you off at your house so you can finish packing and he goes to his trailer to start. You agree to be ready by 10 so it’s dark enough that Steve’s neighbors won’t call the cops.

(You spend the two hours mindlessly folding laundry and imaging all the tanned southern belles chasing after Eddie and his tattoos on white sand. When you try to pack your socks they’re shoved into tight balls and none of them match.)

“Is this even crime if Steve knows about it?”

“Steve doesn’t know when we’re going so yeah, still crime.”

The drive into Loch Nora is full of Eddie’s ‘songs about weed’ mix until you hit the neighborhood entrance and then Eddie kills the radio. He drives the speed limit and keeps the windows rolled up and slides seamlessly into the Harrington driveway like he belonged there. It isn’t long before you’re both shimmying over the fence and stripping clothes, leaving them like a trail to your crime scene. Eddie cannon balls into the deep end and you wade down the stairs slowly.

The water is hot like the air is hot, barely a difference between the wet and dry parts of you.

(The wet parts of you are definitely wetter when Eddie breaches the water. He’s got chlorine in his eyes so you get to stare longer at his curls flattening to his head. The blue light of the pool reflects off his pale skin and his tattoos come alive under moving water.)

“Oh okay good, I can still swim.” He sputters and runs his hands through his hair while he treads water. “Can’t be playing possum in front of the babes now can I?” He starts his slow paddle over to you until his feet touch the bottom and he can walk. The wet glistening on him has you clenching your hands under the water and hoping that he doesn’t see it.

(You’re good at this, the lying. To yourself and everyone else and especially to Eddie.)

“Is this the infamous bathing suit?” He flicks the zipper on your chest before miming an explosion around his head.

It’s a high necked, high cut one piece split down the front with a long black zipper. When you’d bought it you’d felt like the Babest Babe to ever Babe. Now though, with Eddie giving you an up and down glance you have some second thoughts.

Too much skin? Thigh? Ass? It’s no string bikini but it is tight and that zipper was hanging lower with every shift of your chest under the stretchy nylon.

“Gonna have to keep you in the cooler, baby.” He presses his finger into your bare shoulder and hisses. “Too hot.” He slinks backwards and falls in slow motion, arms spread outward to float.

(You notice it then and you think about it later, how he keeps his hips dipped below the water line. You won’t lie to yourself about keeping your eyes on him in the hopes you’d catch a glimpse of too tight trunks.)

“Shut up.”

“Make me.” He says to the night sky while he floats away from you.

You would if you could, but this isn’t that kind of relationship is it? Eddie is your friend, on every level imaginable.

Except that level that you don’t think about and keep locked in the basement of your imagination.

So you swim in Steve’s pool and Eddie pretends to be an alligator to try and pull you under.

He dives off the board and sits on the bottom of the pool to see how long he can hold his breath.

You sit on the edge and watch him wear himself out with laps and handstands and somersaults.

You sit and watch him glide through the pool like he was made from it.

You two get out of there without anyone noticing and he asks about the trip on the way back to your house. He asks about the drive and if your mom’s boyfriend will let him drive and what the hotel situation is like.

“Am I gonna have to share a bed with you?” He leans away from you, an overtly grossed out look shot at you. “You have those glacier feet and I’m not going to be held liable for any elbows in stomachs if they touch me.”

“You snore like a tractor.”

“But at least my feet don’t kill with their icy touch.”

Wayne drops Eddie off in the very early hours of 8 am. You can hear voices talking downstairs but then there’s heavy footsteps and then a huff and a shove of your shoulder and clammy skin pushing into your own sleep warm skin. Eddie smells like his morning cigarette and his peppermint toothpaste and for a fleeting moment you forget exactly what this is. That level you daren’t imagine is abruptly surface level and you roll back into him. Your nose smushes into his shoulder, your leg winds over his and you settle back into the pillow.

A solid few minutes of waking up and with every braincell that fires, your heart beats faster. He’s motionless like a corpse. Barely breathing judging by the little huffs against your pillow case.

“I am…so sorry.” The regret rolls off you and you shove off him to the other side of your bed, back pressed up against the wall.

“It’s okay I-“

“I was still asleep, I didn’t-“

“I shouldn’t have climbed in your bed unannounced.” He stares. You stare. The sheets between you two shift when you sit up and slide off the end of your bed to get up.

“I’m gonna uh…bathroom.” Stuttering and rubbing sleep out of your eyes you grab your pile of clothes and then sit in the bathroom for ten minutes.

(You lie the whole drive to Florida. 11 solid hours of kidding yourself, keeping a pillow shoved between yours and Eddie’s knees so your thighs won’t touch. Every pit stop you stare at him while he folds out from the back seat and think about wrapping your leg around him again.)

The motel is pink and blue and right on the water. The big arch that indicates the entrance to the beach welcomes you to Emerald Shores and while you don’t consider yourself a beach girl, it’s actually quite beautiful.

Your mom and her boyfriend have a room on the second floor and you and Eddie have been relegated to the bottom floor.

“Just call us peons and get it over with.” Eddie whispers at you from the corner of his mouth and you laugh before The Boyfriend can turn back around with your room keys.

Eddie spends all of ten minutes in the room before he just disappears while you’re in the shower. He comes back an hour later with a handful of shells and a pizza.

“What a resourceful Indiana raccoon you are.”

“Yes, and if I didn’t forage for us, who would?” He tosses the box on the bed next to your legs and you don’t miss his lingering stare on your calves. He covers it with a nod and a joke.

“You better wear socks tonight. I’ve already got the A/C set to 65, I don’t need you putting me on ice too.”

(You withhold the truth from Eddie the next morning by not waking him when you wake at 6 AM and find him latched around your middle.)

Eddie rents a spot with two chairs and an umbrella and he gets to talk to every girl walking the shore that afternoon. You’ve been alternating between PBR’s and waters and now to avoid the dark cloud trying to damped your mood you ratchet the chair back and scoot out from under the umbrella to take a nap. Eddie asks about 100 times if you remembered sunscreen and you tell him 101 times that yes you did and no you don’t need him to reapply it for you.

(Yes you do! If you’d stop being insane for two seconds you could have his hands on your back and over your shoulders and up along the high cut of your hip and maybe he’d dip those musicians fingers behind your convenient zipper and-)

“You might want to pull your zipper up then.”

You peak one eye open to stare down at your chest. From this angle your don’t have cleavage so much as a valley but the zipper on your suit has popped down a few more teeth and Eddie seems to have noticed.

“I just don’t want you burning is all.” He sniffs. You roll your head to look at him and catch his quick shift of attention away from you.

In your light napping you hear a few voices asking Eddie where he’s from and if his tattoos hurt. One girl says she loves his hair, “especially tied back like that, so cute.”

Another girl asks about his girlfriend.

“Oh her?”

You imagine he points over his shoulder at you with a big thumb.

“Yeah. You sure she doesn’t mind you talking to me?”

You’d love to sit up and point out that you’re awake and also that she walked up to him but Eddie beats you to it.

“Oh this is all a cover. She’s actually scoping out this beach.” He gets a conspiratorial lilt to his voice and you imagine he’s leaning forward and turning on his Munson Charm.

“For what?” Mystery girl number 10 asks.

“She’s an international jewel thief and she’s heard there’s some real old money around here.”

You snort and alert them that you are, in fact, listening.

“Wait, seriously?” Suddenly this girl sounds wary. She makes up an excuse and scampers off down the beach back to her tan friends.

“Swing and a miss, Munster.”

“No. I made you laugh didn’t I?”

If Eddie has to watch that zipper unzip another zip he’s also going to unzip all of his zips.

It’s hot, and he and his brain have been baking under the sun but he refuses to leave. With you laid out in that fucking bathing suit he can’t miss a single moment of you in it. He’s on his…sixth, maybe eighth beer and his looks get longer with every empty in the cooler. He can make out the tan line on your hip when you roll over and he almost inhales the last of his drink because you’re all legs and ass. He can’t wait for later when you’ll be laid out after your shower, shorts hitched up from you sliding down the comforter and he’ll be able to catch a glimpse of that darkening line along your butt.

“Fucking hell…”

“You wanna head back in?”

(He does. He really does. He’ll carry the cooler and his towel in front of himself to hide his eagerness. He’ll carry your shit too just to watch you walk unencumbered in front of him, leading the way back to the air conditioned heaven and your thin pajamas.)

Three days in, two left to go and Eddie has decided he’s done lying to himself. He watches you every afternoon out in the sun in your bathing suit or the worlds shortest shorts and the most cropped band tees that he thinks might have been his at some point. He watches you run and roll over sand and wade cautiously into the ocean. There’s this part of your stomach he’s positive he’s never seen before and he watches very closely for the soft roll of it to peak out from under your shirts.

(He’s wanted to sink his teeth into you for a while but this new body part makes his teeth hurt. He drools after your thighs and dreams of digging his fingers into the soft dough of your ass. He imagines while he watches you stretched out on your towel that you’d be so soft in all those hidden places and he imagines so long he lets his beer go hot in the sand.)

He walks to cheap little gas stations over hot asphalt and hotter sand to get beer with you. He’d worry you two were going a little hard in the paint but it’s Florida where it’s practically state law that you drink shitty beer by the 12 pack, daily, if your staying on the beach front.

He follows you around like a loyal hound and acts like a guard dog when these fucking dudes start sniffing around you. Tall and tan and smelling like sunscreen and ocean. Eddie walks close behind, your constant second shadow and these fucking dudes get the hint when he glowers at them.

“I don’t think Floridians take too kindly to us midlanders.” You chew on a fry thoughtfully, knee hugged to your chest.

“What do you mean?” Eddie is finally drinking water after two days and a midnight migraine reminded him why you can’t just exist off of piss water beer.

“That girl the other day didn’t think you were funny which, come on.” You roll your eyes and say it like it’s so obvious how funny he his and he’s instantly convinced he could chuckle his way into your cutoffs. “And these dudes, they practically cross the street when we walk down the same sidewalk.”

Eddie just hums at you and finishes his water. He watches you wipe your fingers on your rapidly darkening thigh and he wants to lick the salt and sunscreen off your skin.

You find this little seafood place for dinner and Eddie is surprised he even sees your mom and her boyfriend show up. They’re not unwelcome but he’s sure they haven’t left their room since they arrived.

He has to put real shoes on which throws him for a loop but it’s not fancy. Neither of you are that, especially after almost four days of bumming it at the beach and being mildly drunk for most of it. He’s still watching everything you do, convinced and baptized in the Florida sun and sand that he can tell you his truth finally.

He waits for a break in your conversation with your mom to tap his index finger on your knee. “Can we go to the gas station before we head back?”

“Of course. Need more beer?” You nod as you ask. “I don’t know if we’ve had our daily allotment.”

He laughs through his nose and when you turn back to answer your moms question his stomach does a nervous flip and he doesn’t trust the shrimp on his plate anymore.

“You didn’t finish your dinner.”

“Okay mom.”

“I just wanted to know if everything was okay. You’ve been quiet today.” You stroll beside him, sandals in hand while he carries a fifth of southern comfort that he nervously bounces against his thigh.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “just taking it all in a guess?” The sunset paints the horizon in a way that is alien to the sunsets in Hawkins. “It’s pretty.” He says that to the side of your head while you look at the sky over the ocean. Even in his shorts and his chopped up tee he’s sweating but the breeze coming off the beach tells him this is all nerves and maybe he wasn’t ready to say it.

“Wanna take a walk on the beach?” You stop at one of the entrances and nod your head over, soft smile laid out on your face.

“Sure.”

The light paints both of you in a soft pink light and Eddie really needs to buy your mom something, anything to show his appreciation for the invitation. He could have missed out on this, instead probably working overtime at the auto shop and drinking sadly by himself, counting down time till you or Wayne got home.

Instead he gets to watch you walk ahead of him and lead the way to a tall fishing pier. He watches you kick the sand around and look for shells to add to your new collection.

“Can I ask you something?” You don’t turn around, just trust that the wind will blow your question to him.

“Anything.”

You only stop when you get to one of the massive pilings, turning to lean your shoulder into it above the mess of barnacles. You stare at him, raking your eyes over his body and when he’s about to open his mouth you ask him.

“Can I kiss you?”

He’s 23 and not never kissed, just never been asked. Your open look shows your sincerity, eyes shining in the waning light, lip worried at by your teeth. He wants to sooth those nerves and kiss the salt air off of you. He chuckles, a light huff through his nose.

“Yeah.”

Your eyes light up as you get closer, dropping your handful of things into the sand.

“I’ve wanted to…for a while.”

“It’s not just my laissez-faire beach attitude drawing you in?” He drops the bottle behind him.

“No.” You smile before you kiss him. Soft hands on the side of his face bring him down and in, his curtain of hair blocking out the rest of the world. His lips are plush and a little chapped when they touch yours, damp from him nervously licking them before you’d bridged the gap. His hands find homes on your waist and he doesn’t miss the small sound you make when his fingers creep up under your shirt. You hold on to his face and push up into him and for a moment, he forgets you’re both on a public beach. He lets his hands wander to those hidden places and eats up your groans that you place directly in his mouth. It’s only when he hears the distant roar of an approaching atv that he comes to. Reluctantly breaks the kiss but keeps his forehead pressed to yours.

“Can we go-“

“Yes, please.” You snatch your things off the sand and start walking back towards the motel, his hand clutched tightly in yours.

Later he’ll come out of the bathroom still shaking sand out of his hair even after his shower, to find you watching tv. Still naked but wound up in the starchy sheets, one long leg left out so he can stare.

(That’s where he’d started as soon as the door closed. Backed you right up against the bed till you fell and he followed your leg up to your knee up to your hip, kissing off the sand and the salt and your sunscreen like he promised. He calls you sweetheart and beautiful and sweet like honey and he gets to watch you preen under his words.)

“Have a good shower?” You’re soft and relaxed into the bed, biting on a nail and watching him.

“Eh, so-so.” He didn’t bother with a towel, you’ve just seen him and he intends on you seeing him more.

(He was right. He was able to laugh you right out of your shorts. Nervous giggles while he inched up your stomach, tongue tasting soft skin and dipping in along your bellybutton. Like magic you were out of your shorts and out of your top and he’d had an idea that you weren’t wearing a bra but the light v of tanned skin between your breast makes him pause all the same.)

“Water pressure no good?”

“No, I still have fucking sand everywhere.” He kneels on the bed to slowly crawl over to you.

(He likes how you watch him. He realizes when he has one pebbled nipple in his mouth that you’ve been watching him for longer than today. Your heavy gaze directed down at him while he licks and nips at thin skin. He grabs and gropes your breast and you sigh and he thinks about buying this motel and never leaving.)

“Oh I’m sorry baby.” You coo at him. He hovers over you and shakes his hair above you.

“See?” And you squeal as sand litters the pillow.

(Your noises kill him softly. He’s heard you laugh and groan and yell before but not like this. Your laugh when he kisses up your neck sounds different that before. When he slides your underwear off and wastes no time pushing his fingers into your wet heat, that groan is deep in your throat. He’s not even fully undressed before he has you undone, loudly yelling his name and clutching his arm while he abuses that spot deep inside that makes you gush over his palm.)

“What the fuck Eddie!” You slap at him to get him off but he drops his weight and pins you in place. You still smell like sunscreen and ocean and cheap beer and he swears he’ll find a way to bottle it.

“I don’t want to leave.” He says sincerely.

(He can’t leave actually because this is the room where he got to touch you. A hundred kisses before he even gets his pants off, 50 more before your hands pull him from his boxers, another dozen or so while you lazily run your hand up and down his length and one final one before he pushes into you slow. He forces himself to keep his eyes open so he can watch. Your gasping and your reaching. The way you bounce under him when grabs the headboard for leverage and soundproofing.)

“This is nice, isn’t it?” You sound sad as you card your fingers through his drying curls.

“I mean…Hawkins can be kind of nice too. If you want.” His chest is tight when he asks his non question. Drops his truth out into the open like that.

(That tight feeling isn’t new, he’s always gotten that with you. Now though the levels are all different. You’ve kissed him and made him cum hot across your belly and you keep holding on to his head like he’s something precious to be kept safe and and and-)

“Hawkins can be nice.” Simple agreement makes his heart swell. He takes a deep breath and finally relaxes into you. You shimmy around to get the blankets over both you and Eddie’s dead weight. He plays with the ends of your hair laying against the pillow, white sand flecks sparkling in the dim motel lighting and decides he’s seen enough of the beach this week.

(You don’t lie to him much anymore, just enough to keep his ego in check. If he had any idea just how deep it all went, you’d never be able to pull him off the ceiling. He’s still a pig and he’s still slime but he’s your pig and your little plastic trash can container of slime. You’d be lying if you said Eddie wasn’t your friend, but the levels got all gummed up with sand and shells and now you don’t have to lie to yourself anymore.)

((Sacrifice for the read more))

[enigmatist17]

The first thing Cade Yeager felt was pain, which was to be expected when you're suddenly slamming into asphalt that had not been there five seconds ago. Well, that and the combat bruises and cuts, but those were permanent these days.

"Holy- are you alright?!" He can hear a few voices around him, and Cade winces as he cracks an eye open to see a few people knelt down around him. "Sir, can you hear us?"

"Just...just give me a second." His head feels like it's about to roll off when Cade sits up, but his physical discomfort is pushed aside for fear when he realizes he's surrounded by a large group, that little voice in his brain telling him to run run run run run. "What...?"

"Everyone back up!" The whistle of a police siren had Cade up and onto his feet in seconds, glad someone grabbed onto him when the world pitched to the side and he nearly fell back to the ground.

"Look, you guys are sweet to be concerned, but I have to go." Cade tried to pull away, swaying a little but mainly remaining upright as he looked around, realizing for the first time that things were...off.

"You're not going anywhere, not until we contact the Autobots. Guys don't come falling from the sky every day!" One of the cops shook their heads, Cade blinking at the kind of uniforms he hadn't seen since he was a kid back in the day.

"Wait wait wait, you know the Autobots?" That was...not what he expected, but regardless of the nods as the crowd was dispersed, he scooted ever closer to a huge gap that could easily lead to a large forest. Whatever answer one of the officers had been saying went unheard over the din of approaching cars, and Cade bolted for his exit, ignoring the surprised cries as he went for the forest behind the shops around him. It was jarring as hell to go from being in the middle of South Dakota to somewhere in the Pacific Northwest ???, but Cade could worry about the cool air when he was far enough from the public, shivering as he jumped a log and headed toward some distant running water.

"You know, I was not expecting to chase down a wayward human today." Cade had a split second to register the voice from his right before something landed in front of him with a loud thud, the human barely having enough time to dig his heels into the dirt to prevent himself from slamming into said thing. An Autobot he'd never seen stood a few feet away, hands up in a friendly gesture as they tilted their head slightly, clearly waiting for Cade to make the first move in their impromptu standoff. "I mean you no harm."

"Uh...thanks?" Cade cleared his throat as he slowly stood up from where he'd been crouched, running a hand through his hair. "I don't recognize you man, gotta name?"

"My designation is Prowl, and yours?" One of Prowl's doorwings twitched when Cade glanced around, blue eyes tracking every move with an intensity that made the inventor very uncomfortable. As much as Cade wanted to get a better look at the Cybertronian, the black and grey coloring, coupled with the unmistakable shield emblems that belonged on police cruisers, only made him wary. "If you try to run, I must advise you that you will not make it very far."

"I don't know man, I can run pretty fuckin' fast, been evading bots and the military for years." This Prowl's eyes widened momentarily before kneeling down, eyeing the human curiously. "What?"

"I do not know where you have come from, but we do not hunt humans for sport." The human crossed his arms with an annoyed look, before jumping at the sound of rapidly approaching cars, eyeing an escape once again. "Those are my allies."

"Oh jeeze, that's real comforting." Cade could feel the talisman crawling down his arm as various cars appeared between trees, watching the six cars that had appeared transform into Autobots of various sizes, the largest one towering far above the rest not too far from where Cade stood. Despite the older model of semi-truck, Cade felt his jaw drop when the taller bot spoke, kneeling down with a friendly hand held out.

"Greetings, I am Optimus Prime, and these are my fellow Autobots."

"....you know, I have to say, you are massive." The Optimus in front of him tilted his head slightly at the lack of surprise, and Cade shivered at the feeling of being scanned, though from this Optimus, it felt wrong. "Also rude, ask to scan me first? What is it with you Autobots and not askin' for shit?"

"You know of us?" This Optimus retracted his hand, but kept himself in place. "I also apologize for the scan, I was curious. What is your name?"

"...Cade, Cade Yeager." The talisman rested in the palm of his hand as he waited for the next move. "So...you guys can just walk around in the public eye?"

"Of course, we are allies with the human race, and protect them as much as we aid." Optimus shuttered his optics at the surprise that crossed Cade's face, shooting a quick glance at Prowl, who shrugged as he stood.

"Wow...never thought I'd see the day." There's a bitterness that lingers in his words, the human shifting in place before taking a proper look around. "And there are so many of you guys."

"You haven't seen anythin' yet my man." A bot to Cade's left hummed good-naturedly, and for the second time, Cade's jaw dropped at a familiar yet unfamiliar figure. "Got more of us back at the Ark and worldwide."

"...holy shit, you -!" Mission City had been kept quiet for a long time until the Chicago War, and footage of that day had been circulated once the government could no longer suppress the information.

That included someone catching Megatron ripping Jazz in half.

"Judgin' by the look on your face, I'm not around anymore huh?" Despite the smile on his faceplate, Jazz felt his Spark falter at the implication, catching Prowl's doorwings twitching in the corner of his optic.

"You - you went down trying to kill Megatron, for what it's worth." The name of the enemy faction's leader made more than one bot hiss in anger, but otherwise, they remained silent. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it, can't change what's already happened." Jazz shrugged. "How's about we take this party to the others? I can just about hear Wheeljack and the others gettin' ready to tear out and head this way."

"Wheeljack is here too?!"

---

The Ark ended up being some sort of Autobot ship; Cade relieved to find the spaceship wasn't in the middle of flight or deep underwater. Hopping out of Optimus' cab once they had arrived, Cade couldn't help but stare at the sheer amount of bots just walking around, a far cry from the ragtag group of survivors he knew. Optimus kindly led him inside their base and explained their background, pointing out a few bots he had heard of, and many others he had not as they approached a massive computer.

"This is Teletraan-1, the heart of our operation. If your Optimus is here, this will help us find him as it did for you."

"Must be one hell of a computer." Cade whistled, picking a spot along the wall out of the way of the various Autobots to take a seat with a yawn. "Where are we anyways? This is not South Dakota."

"You are in Oregon, not far from the city of Portland."

"Oh...never been to Oregon." He watched the Autobot leader start typing away at the massive screens that littered the computer, unsure what else was needed from him. To be honest, it was the first time in ages Cade didn't need his head on a swivel, and before he could think on it too much further, the inventor was out like a light.

"Cade Yeager, do you -" Optimus blinked when he turned to the human, only to find the man slumped over against the wall, chest rising and falling in recharge. The Prime walked over and knelt down, carefully sliding one servo under the recharging human to pick him up in one movement, Cade freezing at the initial contact before going lax once more. The walk to the room they had repurposed for the small growing bad of humans that worked with them wasn't too far away, Sparkplug the only one around for the moment as he tinkered with one of Wheeljack's failed experiments.

"Hiya Optimus, what brings you here?"

"Someone needs to recharge, and doing so against Teletraan-1 is not the most comfortable place." The leader chuckled, depositing a man Sparkplug hadn't seen before on the bed Carly usually used when she came to visit Ironhide.

"Who's he?"

"He is...a visitor." Optimus carefully pulled a blanket over Cade before straightening, giving Sparkplug his full attention. "His name is Cade, and I fear he might be disoriented if he awakens alone. May I ask that you watch over him?"

"No worries, I was planning on spending the night anyway." Sparkplug nodded, eyeing the man with a curious look. "I'm assumin' he set off that weird alert from Teletraan?"

"Indeed, and it appears he might not have arrived alone."

---

In a forest not far from the Ark, Optimus Prime comes online with a groan, his frame rattling from some sort of impact he can't remember. The pain wasn't too overwhelming as he slowly sat up, a little relieved to see his sword wasn't too far from his reach, groaning as he grabbed it and drew it close.

His spark stops when he doesn't sense Cade anywhere nearby, the Prime looking around wildly as he finally gets fully up onto his pedes.

"Cade?! Where are you?" Optimus winces when he takes a step forward, but disregards the pain as he continually scans the area, cursing at the human town that wasn't far off. His only luck was that it was the dead of night, and despite Cade not responding to his calls, there were no recent signs that anyone had been around the area to potentially arrest Cade. What eventually did catch his attention were faint energon signals that appeared to be coming closer to his location, battle mask emerging as he did his best to hide in the thick forest. A few kilicks later four cars pulled to a stop along the road Optimus observed, transforming with their backs facing each other as they scanned the area.

"Teletraan-1 marked the signal not far from here, so fan out and keep your weapons holstered." A white and red bot spoke with a pointed look, Optimus' spark stopping yet again as he had to stop himself from calling out to a bot that shouldn't be alive. "If any of you startle him, you'll be on Red Alert duty for a whole deca-cycle."

"That is cold mech, real cold." A black and white visored mech responded with a shake of his helm, and this time, Optimus couldn't stop the pained vent that escaped him. All four bots whipped their helms to look in his direction, servos flexing but remaining away from their weapons, barely able to make out a tall figure within the trees.

"....Optimus? Is that you?" A taller red mech called out, stepping forward with a small smile. "Yer buddy Cade told us you'd be comin'."

"Where is he?" Optics widened as Optimus slowly stalked forward, clearly a few helms taller than their own and looking like he'd been through the proverbial grinder, a massive sword in hand as he stared down at them with his battle mask extended. "If this is some trick, none of you will leave alive."

"Whoa whoa my mech, no need for threats." The visored mech stepped forward, servos still raised. "We aren't here to hurt you, I swear to Primus. We don't know how this happened, but you and your buddy got pulled here from...wherever you're from, and we only want ta help ya get home."

"Home...a word I know no longer." Optimus stared at the mech, who could only be Jazz, before slowly sheathing his sword. "We cannot remain here, the humans are too close."

"The humans are our allies, they won't harm you." The fourth bot chimed in, one so small Optimus had not seen him initially. The Prime stared at him for a long time without speaking a word, shoulders sagging from weariness as he finally walked forward to the road, transforming into a massive semi-truck.

"Show me the way."

Optimus didn't say a word as they led the bot to the Ark, the beat-up truck getting more than a few side eyes from passing motorists. If eyes stayed on his form for too long, Optimus would veer off-road and remain there until the humans pressed on. The four other bots eventually formed a perimeter around Optimus, sparks aching at the insinuations. More than a few bots were hovering around the ship's entrance when the group arrived, whispers and shocked noises escaping them when Optimus transformed, scanning the crowd with a pained expression.

"I would normally ask a new bot for their designation, but I believe this time, we can skip the formalities." A shorter version of himself stepped forward, and it was clear that their shared voices were a bit disconcerting to hear. "Welcome to the Ark."

"Thank you." Optimus stepped forward as he retracted his mask, eyeing the Ark with a curious expression. "This ship is...much larger than the Ark I knew of long ago."

"I shall take that as a compliment." His double chuckled softly as he turned to the other bots, helm tilting forward slightly. "Everyone, please return to your posts, there will be time for questions later."

"You heard the man, let's go." Jazz whistled as he passed by the taller bot, giving him a nod as various mechs grumbled but dispersed to avoid any potential punishments. It wasn't long before the two Primes were alone, the shorter Prime motioning for his counterpart to follow.

"Ratchet can fix you up if you'd like, unless you require something else?"

"Please, show me to Cade Yeager."

"As you wish." Optimus led his taller counterpart inside the Ark, explaining what various areas were as they walked, ignoring the stares and whispers as they headed for the human living quarters. The shorter Prime stepped back to allow the other to step inside, Cade still asleep on the bed he'd been placed on breems earlier. He was silent as he watched the other Prime kneel down beside the human, a servo gently resting on his cheek as he murmured to him in their native tongue. Cade stirred at the voice and pressure, and to Optimus' astonishment, his eyes were shining blue much like their optics did as he looked around blearily, visibly relaxing when he caught sight of the mech crouched in front of him.

"You're here?" Cade moved to sit up, but Optimus gently pressed him down with a soft shake of his helm, Cade frowning a little but sank back into the mattress with a hum. "You alright, big guy?"

"I am alright, you need not be concerned for me." The human scoffed as Optimus shifted to sit by his bedside, sagging against the wall behind him.

"Right, and I'm in the best shape of my life right now." Cade rolled his eyes, the glow fading from his eyes as he sat up with a wince, holding a hand out when his Optimus moved to steady him. "Do you want to transform, or is that too much?"

"I would prefer to remain this way." Optimus held a servo out when Cade grabbed the blanket and pillow from his bed, the human climbing on as Optimus opened his chest plating, carefully placing Cade onto the seat inside. "Is this comfortable?"

"Always is." Cade sounded half asleep as he got comfortable, pulling the blanket over himself and gently knocking some of the metal beside him. "Get some recharge, or I'll make you regret it."

"As you say." Optimus made an amused noise as he adjusted, his optics appearing to flicker off as he heard the other human in the room stop tinkering. Not long after, the lights in the room dimmed. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it, you both look like hell." Optimus grumbled something as the second human chuckled, only truly offlining his optics once the other had left the room, closing the door behind him. Tossing the maglock he carried for emergencies onto the door, it helped to know it would at least buy them time if anyone came by, and Optimus finally let his beleaguered body experience relief as he faded into recharge.

[untaemedqueen]

At Your Service

Escort!Jeongguk x CEO!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 17.

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Angst, Fluff, Cold Heartedness, Emotional Trauma, Healing, Smut, Dark Humor

Warnings For This Chapter: Breast Play, Daddy Kink, Squirting, Love Making, Pregnant Sex, Jeongguk Being Fuckin' Filthy, Praise, Begging, Creampie // Taehyung Acting Up As Per Usual

Jeongguk was only without you for a month but during that time he forgot what it was like to lay in bed with you.

He forgot how you cuddled close to him in the chilly mornings, burying your face into his chest with childlike stubbornness. He forgot how you almost always softly whinged when he kissed the top of your head to wake you up. And he almost forgot how beautiful and incredible it feels to have your limbs tangle with his in the wee hours of daybreak.

Now that he's moved into your mansion, now that he has all of his belongings here, he finds himself appreciating the mornings even more.

You're not as sick as you were when you first found out you were pregnant but you're still exhausted all the same. Nothing wakes you up anymore, your hormones make you lay in bed like a lump on a log until his child deems it acceptable to rouse awake.

Curling his hand around your flat stomach, his lips drift softly over your shoulder.

To know he's bringing a life into this world with the woman he adores more than anything makes him constantly euphoric day in and day out.

It's funny to think that in just two weeks he'll be accompanying you to the wedding he was hired to go to so long ago. It's almost as if everything is coming full circle.

Drifting his lips to your hair, his eyes squeeze shut. There's such peace here at this moment. There's a serenity that cannot be matched and he's simply basking in its wonder.

This mansion you explicitly used to shelter yourself from the outside world is a newly defined place that you'll be raising a little life. All of the meaningless emptiness of the grand estate will have child-like giggles and babbling.

Tracing his thumb over your swollen womb, your once again boyfriend thinks of all the possibilities within this home.

Your whinge alerts him that you're waking up and it brings a soft smile to his pierced lips.

When Hawking hears that noise, he jumps onto the bed with curious excitement and your boyfriend lifts his head with wide eyes as a warning. His dog, now your dog as well, is so big and goofy that he has no spacial awareness. And if something happens to you or the baby, Guk will never forgive himself.

"Mornin'," you murmur to the Great Dane who doesn't heed his owner's cautious look.

Burrowing his face into your breasts, you cringe visibly and Guk is sitting up in an instant.

"Come on, dude," he hisses, pushing the dog's face softly away from you.

"It's okay, he doesn't understand," you reply sweetly, kissing the top of Hawking's head.

Everything about you lately has been swelling and aching, it's uncomfortable to be sure.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," your boyfriend whispers.

"It's okay, really," you promise, turning towards him.

Jeongguk lays himself back down, giving you a smile that is devastatingly handsome. He's so in love, he's so excited to become a parent with you that it's readily apparent on his features.

"How're my babies?" he coos, combing some hair back behind your ear.

"Tired," you breathe, which makes him nod in turn, "hungry, achy, crampy, emotional. I could go on."

He chuckles then, the sound making your bones almost jello-like.

You haven't been up to wearing your nightgowns to bed lately, the fabric that goes over your breasts is too restricting. So when your boyfriend looks you over in full, he can't help the way that his tongue slowly licks over his bottom lip.

The darkened veins around your swollen tits makes him almost frenzied with wanting but he's been respectful since you took him back.

Cupping your chest with his large, warm hands, he kneads the swollen skin very softly with his fingers.

Your whine lets him know how much you adore it and suddenly he's disregarding his huge dog beside you to crawl over you.

He rests his backside on the balls of his feet working to soothe your aches and pains immediately. Your skin is hot under his hands, almost as if you have a fever just on your chest.

You groan softly, letting your head loll back at the simple relief.

"You're so beautiful, I love you so much," Guk avows.

"We love you too," you whisper through clenched teeth.

To say you've gotten used to being pregnant is an understatement. It took you a few days, surely, you were frightened and scared beyond all belief at first but your boyfriend has ingrained in you just how much he adores this and you and his baby. So, it didn't take you so long to come to terms that you're growing a life inside you.

Bending down, Guk presses soft kisses to your areola. When you gasp loudly, making Hawking jump with fright beside you, your boyfriend finds his cock stirring.

"Feels good, baby?" he hisses, wrapping his lips around your puffy, dark nipple.

He suckles gently, suddenly forgetting the need to calm your aches and pains. His hand toys with the stiffening peak, rolling it ever so slowly between his thumb and index finger.

"Daddy, God!" you cry out, squeezing your eyes shut tightly.

"Mhm," he groans against your skin soothingly, flicking the tip of his tongue to your bud.

His free hand trails lazily over your side, stopping shortly to graze along your swollen womb before continuing on it's long path but before he can even get there you're yelping out like you're about to orgasm.

His eyebrows furrow and he suckles harder against you, pinching and rolling just that much more fervently and when his hand reaches the apex of your thighs, you scream his name with heady pleasure.

Your arousal squirts out of you and coats his hand, body trembling with satisfaction and he lifts his head with a curiously triumphant smile.

"Cumming just by your tits? That's new," he breathes, stroking at his cock.

Your juices make his long, hard cock slick and he positions himself at your entrance with a raised eyebrow.

"Can you handle this right now, baby?" he inquires softly, drifting his hand over your cheek.

With a whinge, your hands coast up his heavily inked arms. You stare up at him with heavily sated eyes that seem to twinkle with the need for more.

"Give it to me," you beg softly.

That's all he needs to hear.

Entering you slowly, his mouth drops open at the sheer warmth and wetness. Your cunt is like a fucking siphon around him and he lets out a strangled groan at the feeling.

His elbows purchase themselves over your shoulders and he kisses you slowly and passionately as you adjust to the intrusion of his thick cock.

"Your pussy feels so different," Guk whines against your lips, "feels so fucking good."

You hook your hand around the back of his head, needing him so close to you.

"I love you," you whisper, looking up at him with soft, needy eyes that makes his cock throb within you.

"I love you too," he promises, pulling out almost all the way before slowly thrusting back inside.

This isn't a rough fuck, this isn't a quick thing that horny lovers do. He sets a slow, deep pace that makes your loins quiver. He's making love to you. He's showering you with every ounce of passion that he can to show you how grateful he is that you're with child.

"Oh fuck!" you squeak out, feeling his lips trail from your lips to your jaw and downward.

He suckles at your nipples once again, adoring how your legs butterfly open for more. Your arousal is messy and abundant, earning the most pornographic noises as he fucks you diligently.

"You're so fucking incredible," Guk hisses, licking at your nipple until your back is bowing off the bed.

He takes this opportunity to curl his arm around you, pulling you closer to him as his strokes begin to quicken.

"O-Oh! Daddy!" you blubber out, combing your fingers through his hair.

"That's it, sweetheart. Good girl," he praises, suckling at your sensitive flesh harder.

Your nails scratch at his skin, leaning pretty red lines he'll surely be tracing with his fingers later in the day.

"I can't wait till your bigger, till I can set you on your knees and fuck you from behind like an animal. I'm gonna hold your belly so tightly while you throw it back to me like a little slut. Your swollen pretty tits are gonna leak milk everywhere, begging to mother my baby. Fuck," he hisses, fucking into you harder.

He doesn't know where those hopes and dreams came from but he's pretty sure they've been laying thick on his mind since the minute he got you into bed the first time.

His irises burn with an intensity that makes your breath catch. He believes what he's saying, he wants you to do every vile and nasty thing with your pregnant body that he can and it only brings you closer to the edge.

There's a bubble growing and growing within your loins, it's expanding at a rapid pace and when he sits up and flips you over like you weigh nothing, the explicit show of strength makes you almost want to fall off the precipice then.

His chest lays over your back, hand cupping your small, swollen womb. His lips tug at your earlobe and you can only cry out in a semblance of babbles as he begins to fuck you stupid.

"I'm gonna worship you and this pregnant belly until my last fucking day. I want you to walk around this mansion stark naked with your big stomach in your hands and my cum running down your fucking thighs," he hisses, nibbling at your skin softly.

There's a demon within him now, some sort of incredibly aroused being that you can't help but want to bend your will to.

"Y-Yes, daddy! Please!"

"Yeah?" your boyfriend coos sweetly, "you want that? You want me to fuck your little pregnant cunt everyday? You want to drip with me everywhere you go? You want to hold your belly for me while you suck my cock or take it deep inside you?"

You nod incessantly, sobbing as his hand hooks around to the apex of your thighs. He rubs short, quick circles to your swollen clit, groaning at how tight you're getting around him.

You like this too apparently, you love the imagery, much like him.

"Fuck, throw it back to me, baby," he hisses, lifting himself off of your back.

His free hand slowly coasts over your spine while the other continues it's diligent work between your legs.

With every stroke he gives, you meet it and he moans loudly at the feeling. His head lolls back at the euphoria of it all and when he hooks his hand around your waist to pull you back even faster, you can't help the bubble within you as it's about to explode.

"Fuck, I feel it. That's my girl! Let go," Jeongguk praises, spreading your legs wider with his knees.

With a loud whimper, your body lets go. Your orgasm feels like shards of ice upon your body and you can barely register the slew of curses your boyfriend strings together behind you.

"Oh holy fucking shit," he whines, fucking you harder and faster until his thrusts become stunted and shorter.

With a deeply bassed groan, he spills his seed inside of you.

"My God," he sighs softly, pulling out slowly and laying down beside you.

He opens his arms and smiles as you immediately coddle to him, laying your face down on his chest.

"I love you," he whispers, running his hand over your womb.

"I love you too," you murmur, deeply sated.

As you begin to draw random shapes onto his chiseled chest, he stares down at you with adoration slowly creeping into his bones.

You, the mother of his baby, how deeply he fucking loves you.

"One, two, three," Guk counts, groaning loudly as he and his two best friends begin to set up gym equipment in the basement he didn't even know you owned.

You're giving him free reign within this mansion now. You're really starting to come to terms with sharing your life with him.

"Still don't like it," Tae murmurs, looking around the pristine basement.

"Oh my God, give it a rest!" Jimin hisses, setting down the rowing equipment.

Jeongguk has gotten used to ignoring the pretty boy lately. Nothing ever seems good enough for him anymore.

"She fucking lied to him! She withheld that she was fucking pregnant!"

Guk turns away from the both of them, grabbing his water.

"She was confused! She was scared! Christ, imagine you were a girl and you got pregnant so soon! How would you feel?!" Chim gripes back, folding his arms.

"I am not her!" Taehyung hisses, his voice slowly getting louder and louder with each word, "if she was fucking smart, she would have told him from the fuckin beginni-"

Jeongguk sighs loudly, spinning around and pressing his forearm against his best friend's chest until he backs him up into the wall. His eyes are wide with anger and ferocity.

"You are raising your voice in the mother of my baby's house. You're talking shit when she's right fucking upstairs. She was scared and nervous! Don't you think for a fucking second that I won't kick your ass where you stand just because we're friends! I'm sick of your shitty attitude, dude. I'm spending the rest of my life with this woman! Have some goddamn respect. If you wanna bitch and complain you can take it outside this fucking house and away from me! I'm sick of it."

Jimin puts his hand delicately on your boyfriend's arm, watching it shake with anger and fury.

"I said it's enough," Guk hisses finitely, letting Taehyung go.

The pretty boy fixes his shirt immediately after being let go, rolling his eyes at the sudden flair of anger.

"Y'know," the father of your child grunts, grabbing a beer from the new mini fridge beneath the bar you've only just installed yesterday, "Tae, you're one of the biggest fucking hypocrites I know. If you had one ounce of understanding in your body, you'd see just how fucked up you've been. You always complain about Y/N, about others and how if you were that person how differently you'd do things. Well guess what? You're not them. So shut the fuck up. I'm goddamn tired of you acting like you're the king of the universe and you never do any wrong. It's annoying."

Jimin clears his throat softly, nudging the pretty boy who simply huffs out and folds his arms.

"So you don't like it when I speak my mind? We're friends. Isn't that what friends do? Listen?" Taehyung counters, sitting down on the rowing equipment.

Guk snorts into the beer can as he takes a sip. He shakes his head softly, knowing that nothing he says will get through to his older friend no matter how much he tries. "Just keep your comments about my girl to yourself from now on. Or you'll regret it."

"Guk-" Jimin begins only to be cut off by the pretty boy.

"Oh yeah? And how will I regret it?"

"You'll lose the chance to ever see my baby grow up. I'm going to be a father, I have to make decisions that are right for me and my family."

Tae simply freezes, tilting his head to the youngest's threat. "That's vile."

"You're being vile towards my-"

"Gukkie?"

Your boyfriend's head snaps up and he's standing in an instant to greet you as you descend down the basement stairs.

"Hey sweetheart," he murmurs, walking over to you and placing both of his hands on your side.

"Are you okay?" you inquire, running your hands softly over his inked bare chest.

"Yeah! We're fine down here. What's wrong?" he replies, kissing the top of your head.

"I heard yelling," you whisper, looking up at him with doe-like, sweet eyes.

Just the sight kills him and he doesn't know how Taehyung could ever say anything bad about you.

"Oh, no, baby don't worry. We're alright down here. The boys are gonna leave soon and then I'm gonna make dinner for us," he coos softly, coursing a sweet hand over your cheek.

"Don't rush on my account. I'm just gonna go relax in the garden for a bit."

"How do you feel? Should you be laying down?" Guk asks sweetly, already forgetting the other two men in the room.

"I don't feel sick so I want to walk around for a while," you answer him, looking over at Jimin and Taehyung to give them a soft smile.

"Well that's good. I'm glad you're feeling alright," your boyfriend breathes, smiling down at you with his pearly whites.

You kiss his cheek softly before beginning your ascent back upstairs and he turns to his two friends.

"Thank you for helping me set up the gym, you're both more than welcome to come over and use it if you keep the mother of my baby's name out of your fucking mouths."

"I didn't say anything!" Jimin gasps, widening his eyes.

"Good, don't," Guk hisses, folding his arms.

Taehyung simply shakes his head, standing up off of the bench and rolling his eyes.

"What's your problem now?!" Chim groans, lolling his head back.

"Nothing," Tae replies, heading up the stairs and out of sight.

Your boyfriend simply holds up his hands, shaking his head. "He's really sensitive for someone that bitches about others constantly."

Jimin can only hum in agreement, chasing after the pretty boy with a sigh.

If there's one thing that Guk will do, he'll fight for you time and time again without any care for others.

<- Last Chapter Next Chapter ->

[lopsicle]

Catching Up

Fandom: Helluva Boss

Characters: Lee! Blitzø, Ler! Fizz (Can be seen as romantic or platonic, I love BlitzFizz)

Summary: As Blitz and Fizzaroli make up for lost time, Fizz discovers something he didn’t know about his former friend.

Tickletober day 2: Accidental

Warnings: Tickle Fic, innuendos.

Life had never been the same for Blitz and Fizzaroli since their second meeting in the Greed Ring. Sure, they’d reconciled their main issues and managed to air out some of the miscommunication forced onto them in their adolescence, but it had still been a decade and a half since they even just had a regular conversation. It was going to take a lot of work and effort to maintain that friendship, but that was work Blitz was willing to do. He couldn’t lose Fizz a second time.

Sometimes, Blitz would hang out backstage at Ozzie’s, listening to the clown perform his bits to the crowd, hyping him up whenever he had the chance. Sometimes that happened at Mammon’s, but it was rare Blitz would be allowed back there, much less without freaking out about being in the same room as a rockstar he admired from before he was even an adult. Fizz would even pop around to I.M.P sometimes, just his presence there was enough to drive up business so he had a warm welcome.

Though, their favourite thing to do was to just be with each other. It didn’t matter where, they usually preferred privacy but the two were neither careful or shameful, being able to do their business wherever. The pair of scarred imps could go on for hours and hours about whatever came into their mind, it was like they had a years long back log of all the things they wanted to talk about locked up in their brain, but never had the right person to say it too. They were just two sides of the same coin, better together.

One day, the two ended up in the privacy of Blitz’s room, which he (mostly) cleaned up for his guest. They’d both made themselves comfortable, Blitz laying down on his bed, sprawled out with her legs hanging over the edge, and Fizzaroli sitting over on the window sill, switching his face between the lacklustre view of Imp city, and his host.

‘Hey, how much can you feel?’

Fizzaroli’s eyes glanced over back to Blitz at his casual question, tilting his body to face him as he did so.

‘Like, emotionally?’

The clown tilted his head almost unassumingly, to which Blitz threw a nearby pillow at him.

‘Yeah, of course I mean emotionally-of course not, dipshit, of course I meant physically! You know, metal limbs and all,’

He huffed playfully, crossing him arms to which Fizz just chuckled, amused at his frustration.

‘Well, I can feel with my nose just fine! And my insides are…rigged with sensitivity, just ask Ozzie!’

‘I am not asking that feather covered, sparkly whore about how he fucks you.’

Fizz just laughed even harder at that, kicking his legs a little as he hopped off his self made perch, standing closer to Blitz.

‘Ahand, I can new sensors in my fingertips, Ozzy developed them himself to make things more…captivating.’

Blitz rolled his eyes and made a face, maybe a little out of jealousy, but there wasn’t much ill will behind it.

‘So now I can actually feel with them again! You have no idea how much I missed petting animals! And fucking with people, that’s great too!’

He ran his fingertips over Blitz’s still stretched out torso to make his point, to which the imp fucking squealed and curled up in on himself. Fizz tilted his head, sitting by Blitz with the largest shit eating grin on his face.

‘No fuckin’ way your ticklish! How did you hide this from me?!’

He asked excitedly, to which the imp blushed a little, trying to scramble backwards on the bed on his palms but he was quickly scooped up by his friend’s mechanical limbs and pulled closer.

‘Okay, it’s not that big of a deal this I’m ticklish! You don’t have to make such a big deal out of this, you knahaahhahw!’

The demon’s protests were cut off by a couple sharp scratches to his ribs, with a very eager Fizz now positioning himself on Blitz’s hips.

‘Oh, don’t you try and weasel your way out of this one! We’ve got, what, fifteen years of laughter to catch up on, and I’ve never heard you laugh like this!’

As much as Blitz wanted to remain tough and stoic on the outside, it was hard to do that while giggling, much less from your childhood best friend/crush tickling you. He couldn’t deny that the attention felt nice, not in a dirty way, he never expected to really…feel Fizz again due to his body being broken so it was a pleasant surprise. The tickling was just a bonus, though he weakly struggled against Fizz’s body to make it look like he wasn’t enjoying it too much. Though, Fizz saw right through him.

‘Oh, come on now, Blitzy, I’ve seen what your capable of, you could push me off you with ease if you wanted but you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’

Blitz’s blushing situation went from bad to worse as he shook his head from side to side, he’d normally try and hide his enjoyment under some snarky remark but it was hard to think of one while your sides were being squeezed and tickled. So he just resorted to this.

‘Fuhahahahack you!’

‘I’m right, aren’t I?’ Fizz chuckled to himself a little, allowing his nimble, dexterous fingers to skitter all over Blitz’s torso. ‘That’s alright, Blitz, you know I don’t just people, kinky or not, but there is no way I am not being in on this! You don’t know how fun this is me!’

Fizz gushed, pulling his hands away as he looked up at his friend excitedly. While Blitz may have rejected an offer like this from basically anyone a month or two ago, Fizz had softened him up in terms of accepting…anything really from others, plus it was a nice bonus that Fizz seemed to be enjoying it a lot.

‘…would you wanna continue right now then?’

‘Oh, with pleasure!’

[its-your-mind]

sorry I won't be done dracula posting until never bc ALSO TODAY. WE GOT THE REMINDER OF JONATHAN'S HAIR. I know that hair-turned-white-by-trauma is a well-known and oft-utilized trope, but what I fuckin LOVE about jonathan is that yes. he has been supremely and deeply fucked up by what happened in castle dracula. it took him months to recover with the nuns, and even when mina brought him home he wasn't fully There. it was only after he spotted the count in london and had van helsing come and tell him that no, he was not mad, the memories he had were real, this monster is real and he's now stalking london... that we see an upturn in jonathan's recovery.

but the thing is. the THING. is. hair-turned-white-by-trauma characters are always characterized by a deep, deep wound to their psyche that never healed properly. their interactions with the rest of the world are shaped by that wound - the powerlessness they felt when there was something or someone trying who hurt them, and they had no way to stop the hurt. they'll do whatever they can do get away, and accept help from the first person who offers. and jonathan's story does follow that trend.

BUT THEN. most of the time, that powerlessness and fear is turned to a facade of stoicism, of intense calm, cut through with occasional abrupt bursts of an intense anger that seems to come from nowhere. but it doesn't come from nowhere. it's a self-protection instinct. they were hurt before. they will Not let something do that to them again.

jonathan... calls for mina. when she comes, he marries her instantly. he gives her his journal, makes her promise never to read it unless she absolutely needs to know what happened to him. wants to keep these memories buried. then lucy, then van helsing, then seward... it was all real. and these people want to stop this from happening to anyone else.

and to jonathan, this isn't a quest for vengeance. he stays back. he helps mina keep the logs. he provides information where he can, stays out of the way when he's not needed. he becomes a pillar of support, the "husband of madame mina" who is at her secretarial disposal. the others sleep outside their room to protect them. it is only after dracula attacks mina that jonathan asks to go out on missions, to help seek dracula out, to join in the pursuit, kukri knife in hand, ready to stop the vampire where he stands and stab him through the heart. and when the count escapes? when they have to make a plan of pursuit that may not work? jonathan does not vow to avenge his wife. he does not vow to kill the count at all costs. he vows that, if mina is to be turned and they cannot stop it, he will go with her. he will not allow her to live as such alone. a vow not made from a place of deep anger and pain, but from an even deeper place of personal, unshakable and devoted love.

the character arc for a hair-turned-white-by-trauma character is so often dominated by a journey back to trust, back to love.

jonathan went into dracula's castle with a journal of train schedules and paprika-filled recipes for his fiance. every time he believed himself close to death, he would write a goodbye to his beloved. and so when he escaped, body withered and mind shattered, he didn't patch himself back together again with ironclad mistrust and an impenetrable heart of steel. instead, he tried to get home. when he couldn't, he called for mina, and he waited for her. he could not trust his own mind. he knew she would come. his memories felt like lies. he had complete trust in her. when he was weak, he knew she would be strong. she would hold him, support him, until his mind was strong enough again.

[hysteria-things]

hey so im ovulating and gentle sex sounds good rn so like give me a moment

Chris and you have been married for around a week. Due to Chris having commitment issues and trust issues you guys never really did anything intimate, other than cuddle and have long, sloppy make-out sessions. Your honeymoon was going great, you guys settled into a quiet beach house. It was beautiful and quiet with no one around. Chris had been extra touchy these last few days, always rubbing your waist, kissing you, having his hand rest on your hip or ass, touching the inside of your thigh. You knew, maybe to well, it was time, you knew Chris isnt a virgin and is experienced, but you, my dear, are a virgin. You've touched yourself, yeah, a few times, but never really went in there, deep. To say that you were nervous was an understatement. The evening before you guys had dinner in this beautiful fancy restaurant, came home, made out (obviously) then went to bed, A CLASSIC!

Morning rolls around, jeepers, you barely open your eyes, you stretch, the soft, cotton pjs rolling up to your hips, you turn to Chris as you lay on your stomach - teehee, i luv my husband. - you think to yourself, you just wanna play with his hair and kiss all his freckles one by one. You carefully remove a strand of hair off his face, kissing his cheek, you can't help but notice the log in his boxers - they weren't kidding when they said that morning boners are the best. - you felt a little flustered but brushed it off as you didn't wanna stare a little too much and have him catching you, that would be humiliating. You wrap your arms around Chris' neck in hopes to wake him up, the wind from the open window blows on you both, causing him to stir awake, he groans as his eyes flutter open. You stare at him lovingly.

"good mornin'." he says, OH MY GOOOOOOOOOD, that raspy morning voice he has makes you want to claw at his skin.

"Morning." You smile, giving him a peck on the cheek.

"You're so stinkin' cute." He says, pulling you closer so you lay on his chest whilst he's laying down, each one of your legs on opposite sides od his lower waist, your ass a little above his cock. "That's why i love you tho." He giggles, lightly tickling your sides.

You giggle, squirming on him, you accidently rub against his cock, causing him to groan

"ooup- sorry-sorry-" You apologise, chuckling as you look at him.

"it's 'kay, don't worry." He says, he sits up against the headboard with you on his lap, he looks at you lovingly before connecting his lips with yours. Your lips danced together, it was so passionate, so full of love - so gentle. Chris wrapped his arms around your back, edging you closer, you arch your back as an instinct, causing a hum to leave his mouth. He rubs your hips, your back, runs his hands all over you, everywhere, he needs you, oh my lady, so so so bad. He plays with the hem of your shirt.

"Can i take this off?" He asks, as he looks deep into your eyes, you nod, lifting your hands up so he can take your shirt off. He slips your shirt off, and you have no bra on, god, this felt so embarassing and so.... hot at the same time. You flush a pinkish like colour.

"mmmh- so fuckin' beautiful." He says, running his fingers gently over your chest, making sure to be gentle with your tits. You moan, you look away, completely shy now.

He chuckles. " ma, 'ts okay, look at me." He says, cupping your chin as he turns your head back to face him, he smiles. "theeere's my girl. calm down hun, i gotchu." He says, smirking.

"you want this?" He asks, looking into your eyes again, deep - as if he sees your soul.

"i'm sure, chris, fuck - i love you." You reply, pressing a kiss onto his lips as he smiles, kissing you back passionately, one of his hands cupping your tit as the other roams along your back.

"i love you, i'll be gentle - so so gentle. If you need me to stop or if you need a break, tell me to stop and i'll be as still as a board." He says, moving a strand of your hair out the way. " 'kay?" He asks.

"i trust you." You say, biting your lip as his lips tease the soft skin of your tits. Your hands roam behind his head, your fingers running through his soft brown hair.

After 10 minutes of fore-play, chris and you are both currently naked, chris' cock red and wet from the precum and you hovering ontop of it.

"Spit." He says, bringing a hand up to your mouth as you spit into it. He then proceeds to pump his cock a few times with your spit.

"Are you sure your ready?" You ask, knowing how chris can be a little unsure and scared.

" 'm sure, mamas." He says, his eyes full of love.

"I love you." He replies to his words from before.

"i love you too." You reply, swallowing as you feel the tip of his cock entering your tight hole. God, it hurts, it's painful. Chris stops a little, you breathe.

"It hurts?" Chris coo's. " i gotchu, calm down, baby, relax."

A little longer and Chris is buried deep inside you, a few tears rolling down your cheeks.

"There there- you can handle it, such a good girl, hm?" He praises, you nod, your mouth opens but no words spill out.

Chris chuckles, you flush red. "Tell me when to move, 'kay?" You nod.

"go." You say, your breath hitching as you feel every detail od his cock in you.

His pace is slow, the room filled with whimpers and moans, he connects his lips with yours, he keeps hitting that sweet spot all over and over again. Fuck - you came already, you whine, feeling embarassed.

" 'ts okay, pretty girl , come on, let yourself go, let me take care of you." Chris says, his pace quickening.

"mh-mmphm- chri-s!" You moan, your hands clawing into his shoulders.

Chris whines, he places your tit in his mouth while his other hand rubs your back.

"doin' so good for me ma- " he says before getting cut off by a moan, he kisses the tears that are staining your face.

"such a sweet girl, hm?" He praises, groaning as he feels himself getting closer.

You connect your lips with his again, grinding your hips on his hard erection as you moan, feeling him abuse that sweet spot. He grips your hips, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he groans, filling you with his seed.

"Such a good girl, fuck, i love you.." he pants, flipping you over on the bed so you're laying down and he's inbetween you.

i got lazy sorry ooppsieeeee😔😔💔💔❗️❗️

LOVEY DOVEY CHRIS!!! PLEASE SAVE ME LOVEY DOVEY CHRIS!!!

I HEART THIS SO MUCH YOU HAVE NO IDEA OMG.

[the-seelie-court-official]

since there's no one left at twitter, whenever someone gets banned it's elon himself. he's that online.

hey speaking of, since he's actually committed the cardinal sin of fuckin with other rich people's money do you think he's gonna be court-mandated to log off? do you think the legal system is gonna be the one to tell that retirement-age fucknut that he needs to touch grass? i hope so.

i hope he is Legally Required to not touch a computer for a while. forced by law, and the men with guns that the law sends, to go outside. and he does. he does. he sees the sun, the grass, the gentle breeze that stirs the leaves on the ground. he stumbles out, in his ill-fitting and too-fancy shoes, into this wonderous world of ours. he kind of, stutter-steps down to a local coffee place. he mumbles out some order, manages to get a warm cup of something in his hands. it reminds him, vaguely, of human touch. he takes his coffee outside. he is starting to wake up to the beauty around him. he is hit by a bus. i never hear about him again.

[forwhump]

a/n; a radio station in my town took out a massive highway billboard that’s just a huge sign that says LONG LIVE COWGIRLS & I pass it on my way to & from work everyday & GUESS what it makes me think of LOL

anyway I can’t see any of the asks I’ve ever gotten for some reason so I can’t remember if somebody actually asked for more wren pov or if I was just scrolling the folder for fun but regardless here’s some more wren pov <3 a horrible little drabble, as a treat :’)

tw/cw: rape, noncon, transphobia, misgendering, sexual violence, captivity, psychological torture, medical torture, dehumanization

military whump, creepy whumper, mentions of living weapons, sexual servitude

There was a time, not even all that long ago, that Wren’s biggest fear was standing too close to the microwave while it was being used because he had a thing about it blowing up in his face. He would never stand directly under street lamps or traffic lights on the off chance they would fall and crush him. He didn’t like to drive behind logging trucks. He wasn’t a good Texan, and he’d always been a little afraid of horses.

Seems like such a fuckin’ joke now.

It’s pretty pathetic, actually, and Wren’s already crying but he sobs with this, too, muffled by the strip of lacy material they’d gagged him with. It wasn’t even all that long ago, and still, it’s hard to think back on a version of himself that thought the very worst thing that could happen to him was a microwave blowing up in his face.

He doesn’t even think I want to go home anymore. He doesn’t know how long it’s been. He thinks, I want to go back to bed. He thinks, I want Silas.

But he’s in bed, where he’s supposed to be safe, and Silas had been shot so many times in the face that even Medic couldn’t help him. He’d been handed over to the biomedical surgeons so they could try and salvage his brain. Nobody was sure if they could.

Point, of course, is delighted. All of his men are. Silas likes them the least, and there’s less of a threat to their lives when he’s dead. They can relax. They can play with Wren, and they don’t have to worry about his guard dog.

This time, they might not have to worry about him again. They’re celebrating. They use Wren’s body to do it, as they always do.

For the first time in a long time, Wren thinks, I want to go home. He sobs again.

As a kid, he’d been really scared of quicksand and of snakes crawling out of the drain to bite him. As an adult, he’s gagged as he’s gang raped in his prison cell by military guards. As a teenager, a teenage beauty queen in Texas, he had started to transition and that had come with a lot of real world fears that never came close to touching on this. It’s hard to imagine anything worse than this.

Silas is dead, and there’s a part of Wren that resents him for leaving him here but there’s a bigger part that’s desperate to join him. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t wanna do this. He’s so dehydrated the tears had stopped hours ago but he hasn’t stopped crying the whole time. Sometimes he wishes he could. He wishes he could get angry and stay angry and not give them the satisfaction. Sometimes, most of the time, Wren is weak and pathetic and scared and it hurts, it always hurts, and he can’t help it. He cries. He gives them the satisfaction. He wants to be where Silas is.

Point watches from the chair he had pulled up from Wren’s desk. Vineyard is behind him, chest against Wren’s back, holding him in his lap with a broad arm curled around his waist. His other hand is curled around Wren’s throat, not hard enough to cut off his air, not completely, but hard enough that it hurts. Hard enough that Wren will bruise around the throat in the shape of his handprint.

Hurt is between the spread of his thighs, pulling chunks of flesh out of his hips with his fingernails, frantic and feral to Vineyard’s calm and dominating. It’s overwhelming and they’re everywhere, they’re on all sides they’re in all of his senses they’re inside him, and they’re both so much bigger than him and Wren has never felt so small and helpless in his life. It makes his chest feel tight, it makes his chest feel the tightest it has ever felt and he can’t take a full breath in but he still finds it in himself to sob, somehow.

It’s a familiar sort of panic, thinking of Silas in times like this, but this time it snags on the cracks of that tightness in his chest and start to break it open, to fill him with something so desperately empty it has him gasping for breath.

Silas is dead. And what does that mean, really, when Silas is Silas, when Silas dies all the time? But Silas hadn’t just died, Silas had been slaughtered, and it wasn’t a matter of trying to bring him back from the dead but of trying to salvage his brain. To salvage it. He had died so completely Point felt comfortable celebrating the loss of him, and Point was never comfortable when Silas was involved.

I want Silas, Wren thinks, and that’s familiar, but Silas doesn’t come to his rescue this time. Wren has to fend for himself, and he’s so fuckin’ tired. He’s so tired. He wants to go where Silas went, and it’s not fuckin’ fair because he also just wants to die and he doesn’t even get that much. He’s wanted to die for longer than Silas can remember and Silas, of all people, beat him to it? Fuckin’ Silas?

He screams and he doesn’t know why, it’s too hard to narrow it down. Maybe a bit of everything. It’s muffled, anyway, by the gag, and it’s answered only with the rumble of Vineyard’s laughter against his back.

Silas had somehow brought out in him again that idiot kid that was afraid of drains because snakes might be hiding in there, waiting for him. Silas had made him stupid. He’d promised Wren he’d get him and he’d die to do it, if that’s what it took. Wren had made him promise right back not to die, that he had to come with him — he’d hardly doubted that Silas would get him out of here, away from all this. He had a resolve that was inhuman and a strength that outweighed it. He never said it like he was gonna try, he said it as a matter of fact, and Wren had believed him. He’d thought about introducing Silas to his mother — what would she say? She’d been a bit of a judgemental bitch when she was Wren’s mother, but how much had she changed?

Would she even want to see him? What would she think of him now? What would she think if she knew?

Point leans in close, too close, and Wren tries to flinch away but he takes a fistful of his hair and keeps him where he wants him. Wren’s wrists have been tied behind his back so long he hasn’t been able to feel anything but static in his fingers for hours. Point mouths along the line of his jaw, the edge of the gag, and murmurs, “that’s my girl.”

Silas loved him. Silas loved him so completely it killed him. He’d lived and died underground and nobody outside of this place will ever know he’d lived at all, but he had and it had been a life that was short and gruesome and miserable. But he loved Wren so much he died for him, and it’s not fuckin’ fair. How is that any fuckin’ fair? Wren spent a lot of his time reading, and he’d read enough that he knows this is not how this is supposed to go. A love like that is supposed to have a happy ending. A love like that was supposed to save them both.

He sobs and it gets stuck in his throat. Point smiles against his skin. “I’m sorry we had to put your dog down,” he murmurs, just as soft, and the warmth of his breath makes Wren’s skin crawl. “We gave you so many opportunities to be good for us. All you had to do was be a good girl.” Wren tries to turn his face away and Point bites his cheek so hard it makes him cry out. He hiccups out a sob, humiliating, and Point coos against his skin. “Look at you,” he says softly. “How could I stay mad at you?” He kisses Wren’s cheek so gently it gives Wren goosebumps and he sobs again. “You’ll forget all about the freak,” he murmurs. “We’re gonna fuck the memory of that thing right out of you, cowgirl.”

Wren tastes blood and he thinks his cracked lips are finally bleeding. His chest is hitching with trapped sobs but there are still no tears. Hurt groans, long and low and it makes Wren gag under Vineyard’s hand.

He wants to go back to sleep. He wants Silas. He doesn’t want to live like this anymore.

What a privilege to be afraid of the microwave. What a stupid little asshole he’d been.

But he’d been a whole person once, a human being. Somebody with feelings and regulated emotions and irrational fears. He doesn’t know what he is now, not really, but he’s less than human, he knows that much. He isn’t worth nearly as much, either. Nobody even knows he’s here, nobody that’s still alive or that’s not down here with him. Nobody’s coming to his rescue. Nobody’s gonna save him this time. When Wren’s finally allowed to die, he’s gonna die down here, cold and pathetic and worth no more than warm flesh.

It isn’t fair. It’s all so fuckin’ unfair.

He wants to go where Silas went.

[szagaloree]

His Wife…

Official series release✨

Walking through the forest I noticed several things, parts of the scorpions that were covered in moss and leaves, like it was abandoned and nature took over, which it did. I noticed and arrow with a particular colored feathers, I smirked knowing who it is from. “Let’s head out!” Quaritch said, I stood up huffing as I head over to the chopper to notice a child? “What the hell?!” I blurt out “even I said the same thing,” Lyle spoke, I was shocked to see young human boy out in the forest, he was scared out of his mind and I don’t blame him. Once the squad was back they inhumanly testing on him like he was some kind of animal and it was disgustin, he even had a nose bleed, it made my blood boil.

“God! The rda gets even more fucking sick testing on a damn child,” i grunted in anger, Quaritch comes back with a annoyed grumble “couldn’t even get the boy to talk,wonder what the kids knows,” quaritch says “really?! That’s what the fuck you’re worried about what the fuck he fuckin knows when they’re over here testing on him! He’s damn child you idiot!” I argued, he just stood there with his arms crossed not seeming to care, of course he didn’t he will never change. I walked breathing into my mask, “kid? Come out” I said gently, I peaked under the table that he was hiding under.

“Can i talk to you?” I ask.

He glances at me with fear but curiosity, he was hesitan, “my name is Gwen, may I ask yours?” I ask, “spider” he answered, “cool name spider,” I smirked, he glances at me a few times nervously before standing up, he had blue stripes over his body which told me a lot, he was with and raised by sully. “Are you okay?” I ask he nods looking down “I know those jackasses did some horrible shit to you, I won’t let them touch you, you’re only a child and they could careless of that they only want answers out of you,” I said “I wouldn’t say answers,” quaritch said and when he came spider went into hiding again.

I huff in annoyance “great your ugly ass scared him,” I roll my eyes “aye I only walked,” he said “that’s enough to scare anybody,” I said nonchalantly, “come out spider,” I said, he stood up glancing between us, “I’ll tell you what, if you tell us what we need.. you’re free but if not I will have to give you up to the lab coats,” Quaritch said, “more like the jackasses that want to be scientist,” I said “why do I feel like I know you?” Spider says to me confused as he stares trying to figure out the feeling.

“You ain’t the only one who said that,” I said standing up.

“Come on,” I said to him he instantly follows and shocked Quaritch on how spider listened to me so easily, he couldn’t even get him to speak to him nor move front he table. Later that night I stood with spider as he taught me the na’vi language, I loved their language it was really cool and fluorescent. Spider smiled as I spoke a sentence in na’vi “did I get it right?” I ask “almost there,” he smirked I chuckle, he gasps looking at my arm “that tattoo!” He points to my gun tattoo I have on my arm “what about it?” I ask confused, “I seen that before on somebody else, wait!” He springs up running to the screen “hey-wait don’t touch anything,” I got up “do they have any logs, of any of you guys?” He asks “old logs when I was human yea?” I answered raising a brow, “gwen-gwen-there look!” He points “yea that’s my gun tattoo I have it’s my first tattoo I got had another tattoo with a butterfly tattoo on my back see,” I show him, “woah-cool” he gasps.

“Hold on I think I can find it,” he says searching through the logs, till he comes across a specific log, “when I grew up they always showed me these videos of you,” he said, it was a video of me pregnant. My eyes widen slowly as I watch the video. “I can’t believe it! 9 months pregnant about to it to give birth any moment!” I squealed, I rub my belly “I still haven’t thought of a name, but I thought of a cool nickname..spider, I just hope it’s a boy,” I said, my eyes fill with tears “spider? Wait that means you’re my" I paused “son… yea, your my mom” he begins to smile “I… I was pregnant? That’s one of the memories I don’t remember,” I said covering my mouth trying to hold on my tears, spider frowns “why?” He asks “because I died,” I said I couldn’t believe it, I look for my biography in hopes to find the exact reason of my death because I cannot go farther then that.

Reason for death: Birth

“Oh my god!” I blurted out, “you died.. giving birth to me?” He looks at me I nodded, “oh, and you’ve been out here by yourself and I was gone,” I tear up “I wasn’t alone, they took care of me,” he says “but I missed half of my baby boys life,” I said, “but it’s not your fault,” he said, I sighed “if only” I sat down, “if only what?” He asks walking to me “if only I would’ve been able to hold you, I would be happy with that,” I said, “if you were.. able to go back you your avatar body, would you go back?” He asks I shake my head. “I’m better in this one then that, a new me, still with a bit of old but I feel new, not messed up with all that bullshit,” I said, “but I just now got something even more better out of being back to life, I got you now, I know Jake sully raised you or Atleast helped,” I said he nods, “he raised you good, just thankful he was able to take you in because I don’t know where you would be and that’s scary,” I sighed.

“I’m right here, with you I’m safe, that’s all that matters,” he says.

I smiled softly “alright let’s get some rack,” I shake his head standing up. The next day had a three squad of my old friend, Allen, ellice, and raven, they never changed always my goofy people with to much humor, they were the first and only ones to tell that spider is my son, they were shocked but happy, they instantly took spider in as their nephew. “Boy you are strong, these lab rats don’t care about shit,” raven said “sure don’t” I said shaking my head, I put my crop top on, “alright come on,” I said. “Hey um you think they’ll let you out of here?” He asks “I could why?” I ask, “I wanna show you something on the mountains,” he says “the hallelujah mountains?” I ask raising a brow he nodded, “I’ll see, I have to report to the so call boss,” I huff.

“Corporal” Carmella said, “what you need?” I ask, “we need to get some indication on the na’vi and where Jake sully is,” she said my face instantly went into annoyance, “hope you like choppers,” I said to spider “fox, let’s load out,” I said, Quaritch and the others were looking over in confusion, “woah where you think you’re going?” Lyle questions with a cocky smirk, “going for a hunt,” I said, raven and the rest came out with their guns. “Oh what change your mind?” Quaritch rose a brow, “don’t worry about it, let’s go,” I said as we leave, spider puts his mask on and we head to the chopper, I noticed the boys heading in their chopper as well.

“Let’s go!” I said, and we took off, “are you really hunting Jake?” Spider asks nervously I smirk “tuhh! No” I said bluntly, “you’d figure everybody here would learn their lesson on stop fucking with these people but no,” ellice said with a smirk, “plus, we got these awesome bodies in tryna keep it,” raven said “damn right, can’t do shit in our human bodies,” I said they laughed, “so we’re playing their game for a while,” I said, “that’s smart,” spider smirks a little “and you gotta play song with it too, you’re the key to what they want,” I said.

“Play along and we can make sure they don’t touch you,” Allen spoke.

Once we landed pulled my crossbow out, “what is that?” He asks pointing at my crossbow “a crossbow, kinda similar to the og bow but this one you can just shoot, I don’t have my old bow I used to have,” I said, “alright listen up we have to go in na’vi,” Quaritch says, I almost snickered, once he started speaking na’vi I knew how this was gonna go “go full na’vi huh, how the hell you’re gonna go na’vi with that on and two face fingers and three your na’vi language is a pain to everybody’s ears,” I said, the girls laughed. Spider even laughed “what she said?” Lyle asks spider, “your na’vi language is a pain to everybody’s ears,” spider said, I shake my head with a grin “well we got out ourselves interpreters,” Quaritch said.

“Spider come on,” I said spider follows, as we go through the forest, I looked around, “can I show you the mountains now?” He asks “not yet,” I said, we all looked up to see the prolemuris swinging around “prolemuris, AYE!” I jumped when one landed on me, “you’re animal whisperer now Gwen,” Allen cackles “oh shut up, come on get,” I said the prolemuris leaps off of my to the tree to follow the rest of the group. “How can you find them in this big forest?” Spider asks, “we’re just scoping out some small areas nothing to big,” raven said, “you can just get an ikran,” he said i stopped “ikran? Those flying things?” I ask he nods “it’s on the hallelujah mountains isn’t it?” He nodded.

“Alright let’s go,” I said, but we didn’t realize we left Quaritch squad by themselves, “wait a minute where’s the rest of them?” One of them asks looking around “corporal? Where you at?” Quaritch asks on comms I gasp “I think we left them,” I said.

To be continued…

A/N: made the first release long for you guys🤍

[somefanficrecomendations]

April Monthly Recap

I’m back! I took some time off to finish out the semester and get my life back in order and I’m finally able to post again. I’ve barely had time to post about fics, let alone read them, so this month’s recap is a month late. But hey, better late than never?

BATMAN

Plato's Allegory of the Batcave by hppjmxrgosg (gen), 2k, Dick Grayson Character Study “So who do you think was the angstiest Robin?” Stephanie asked. In which Dick Grayson contemplates what Robin meant to him, what it means to everyone else, and how he has to reconcile the two. OR I get my filthy hands on one (1) Dick Grayson and shake him until a character analysis falls out.

Hat Off to the Bats by dietpudding (gen), 6k, Crack Treated Seriously "I've identified a pattern in the frequency of Mad Hatter's previous breakouts. Data shows he's more likely to stay put after he scores a new hat." "Go on." Steph perks up in her seat. Now that she knows to look for it, she can easily spot the manic twink to his eye that Tim gets whenever he's about to act a little unhinged. "I like where this is going." Tim's lips twist into a mischievous grin. "How comfortable are we with ghostwriting a heist?" "Extremely comfortable," Steph replies with an equally roguish smirk.

Ad Infinitum; Modified by familiarities (twistsandturns) (gen), 8k, Time Loop Tim is hunched over his computer, bouncing between a report for B (Batman, not Bruce) and a spreadsheet for B (Bruce, not Batman) when Jason stumbles into the cave. If it weren’t for the fact that Jason had been in a somewhat good mood lately, Tim probably would have been a little more concerned about this fact. Still, it’s weird when, instead of ignoring Tim’s existence like he usually does, Jason walks over to him directly and says, “I'm in a time loop and I don't know why. Fix it."

IRIS Log #1548 by deadchannelradio (gen), 8k, Paperwork, Humor (01:25) Red Hood: (Mild static) (Out of breath, slurred) You motherfuckers. Put some fuckin- (01:25) Batman: (Shaking) Red Hood- (01:25) Red Hood: Shut up. Put some fucking respect. On my name. Start fucking copying me. I just got thrown fucking. Um. 40 feet. Into a fucking uh. What's it. Ditch. I'm still fucking conscious. (01:25) Batman: Red Hood, do not move, we're en route- (01:25) Red Hood: What'll I win if I stand up. (01:25) Batman: (Loud) Do not stand up.

Shark Week by heartslogos  (gen), 2k, AU-Mermaid "Do you have a tail? That'd be cool." Bart says, "If you had a tail. Could we give you a sea-shell bra?"

DCU

myself and this body that they stuck me in by misspickman Superboy, (multi), 14k, Non-Binary Kon-El “Oh,” Bart says with a hint of surprise in his voice. “You look so pretty.” “I look like a girl,” he rebuts. He's not sure why he's even continuing this conversation. Bart, blissfully unaware of Kon's internal crisis, shrugs and says, “Well, I think you'd make a lovely girl.”

The Outlaws’ Guide to Parenting by Flowerparrish Pod Collabs (Flowerparrish), kbirb pods (kbirb), Opalsong (Roy Harper/Koriand'r/Jason Todd), 4k, 40 mins, Podfic, Texting Roy: so you know how I had that fling with Chershire for a month or two a couple years ago? Roy: apparently the condom broke Kori: You have a child! Jason: of fucking course we're keeping her

SHERLOCK

The Least of All Possible Mistakes by rageprufrock (Multi), 118k, Female!Gregory Lestrade If ever a people deserved tasering, it’s Holmeses.

[hrryshoney]

pleasseeee u get me the whole “don’t run from it just take it” like … he’s so possessive even though he might be in denial abt that and just so amused by ur body’s reaction to him he’s gonna be holding ur hips at just the right angle and when u squirm he’s all condescending and teasing like “where do you think you’re goin’, princess? hmm?” maybe chuckling a dark chuckle and slapping your ass before caging u in tighter as u arch back against him and ur just babbling his name and he’s like “shh.. i know, baby. i know. s’what you wanted, hmm? been wantin me in your tight little cunt since i first touched you.” and you just nod and he smirks like “mmm. i know. so be still and take it. gonna make a pretty little slut outta you.” and you whimper a little “please, doctor healy.. wanna be your little slut” which makes him crazy like. u calling him that and saying u wanna be His .. it’s so over for him he’s gonna be all “fuck, s’right princess. all mine. my pretty little cockslut. such a sweet girl for me. takin me so fuckin well”

ok time for me 2 log out — head kiss anon

he is sooo possessive but if u ever brought it up he’s immediately denying it❤️ literally just smirking and raising his eyebrows when you buck your hips and squirm. like, “Oh, thought this is what you wanted, though? Try and run from me again, I’ll leave you here all wet while you have to watch me get myself off.” would def spank you do NOT get me started cuz i’ll never stop.

just loves how agreeable you are like. always being so good for him, “I could do anything to you and you’d love it, right princess? Losing all your morals for your doctor, huh? That’s filthy of you.”

“wanna make a pretty little slut outta you” - please! he would be soo fascinated w u when u said u wanna be his, just so lost in you. “Yeah? Then I’ll make you my perfect little whore, teach you everything you need to know.” it’s SO over u calling him Doctor Healy, he’s pounding u senseless making sure u can’t remember ur own name and can only scream his title for him