#because i'm a good person dammit

[emberfaye]

Kids are kind and loving because they've had it modeled for them and have learned how to be, often from their parents. I hope you'll allow yourself some credit for that.

Keep going. Your children are so lucky to have you.

thank you. I'm much better about knowing that in my heart and soul nowadays. It's what makes these moments so precious to me.

"fun" backstory lore below

I did not get to ahve a good support group from my family when i first was pregant, and had post partum. so already from the start i was led to believe i was wrong and to feel guilt for how things had turned out.

and then like 4 years later i thought i finally had the family i wanted, the family i always hoped for--we were hanging out, talking about deep stuff. they trusted me with their mental illness and i trusted them with mine. we were spending vacations together and laughing.

I found out new years day, catalyst being a facebook post i knew was about me because I can connect the fucking dots, that these four had been gossiping behind my back about how i was a shit parent, forced my kids on everyone else so i didn't have to take care of them, was an awful person, "didn't deserve to have kids, didn't deserve to be a mom", and so much other stuff.

The reasons? My oldest, at age 4, wasn't completely potty trained. So obviously i was a failure (It didn't matter that in a year long period he broke his arm, had an abcess to be removed from his butt, and fell in the toilet and scared himself. not that they knew that last one, or thought the first two would affect his potty training). Also, the whole thing started ebcause I left two toddlers at my parents house, safe and warm and playing with their cousins to spend the night on new years eve at like 1am, instead of dragging them home with me on a thirty minute drive, unloading them at the apartment not far from a college campus ALONE because my spouse was working, and coming back in five hours with laundry. Like. yeah, lets drag them and make them miserable even though they are going to pass out soon and still be asleep when i come back. Makes sense.

I never got closure. I will never get closure. This almost 11 years ago, and other than that one awful day, where other family members stepped up to defend me it never got talked about by those four people. the facebook person texted me an apology and claimed that was enough, one person said they tried to get the person not to post but were they wrong? One refused to talk to me at all. One just kept saying they weren't going to get involved (yet they failed to acknowledge or admit they were already involved for shittalking me in the first place)

So yeah. I spent years having to justify my parenting to myself. Even if everyone else kept saying I was doing fine, doing great--I had random people coming up to me in restaurants telling me how good my kids were, I had happy involved kids, i had teachers telling me "whatever you're doing, keep doing it", I had the mom look down and could calm a group of not even my kids with it---I still felt like shit at it.

This was on top of regular depression and on top of regular family dysfunction.

It was a long process to get to the point where I can say I'm a good mom. And even now when I face a challenge i find myself sometimes reverting into that mindset. I also have issues with trusting people and being talked about behind my back--I don't wanna say it's a trigger but like...it's something.

But my kids are loved, and loving, and they like each other and they like me, so I am making it through, and more importantly, I'm very hopeful they'll never relate to songs about broken homes and feeling inadequate to the same extent as me, and that's fucking good enough

[tortoise-teapot]

this tiny mortified storyboard solas is my favorite one i've ever drawn

[giantkillerjack]

Catholicism.

[.... oops I accidentally wrote real analysis in the tags lol]

why is he like this

[aberooski]

I love Taylor. I always have and to some degree I always will. She means too much to me and is such an important figure and source of joy and light in my life when I desperately needed, and a connection to my own father that I need desperately, to deny that I will always look on her fondly to some degree as silly as that may seem sometimes and to some people.

But that doesn't mean I don't/won't/can't be critical of her or be disappointed or disagree with choices she makes or has made, because I absolutely have been and I absolutely am.

My problem is that I always, with every fiber of my being, look for and try to see the best in people and believe in people until I absolutely can't anymore. Unless it's something truly reprehensible and irredeemable, my brain simply cannot comprehend the idea that one bad decision or mistake trust me I know she's made more than one lately can automatically invalidate or negate anything and everything good a person has ever done. I've genuinely tried to understand it and unfortunately, I can't wrap my head around the concept. I give grace to a fault. I get sad when I see things said about her in a negative light even when I completely understand and even agree, because I have so much love for her in my heart. It's that tride and true naive, blind optimism in me I guess.

But I do not in any way think she's a perfect person, I know she isn't, because nobody is. Some are just better at hiding that than others. She makes mistakes, she's wrong sometimes, she is a human being who messes up. Sometimes in big ways. And unfortunately she's messed up a few times over the last year or so and that makes me sad. It disappoints me because I love her so much, and I do want and expect better of her. And in the process of that, it makes me very sad that I feel like I have to hide the facet of myself that does still love her despite my disappointment in her or risk making people upset with me now because I'm so afraid of upsetting people. I'm terrified of doing or saying the wrong things I try so hard to do the best I can every day and it's disappointing to see her slip up. It's sad. It makes me very sad.

It's a complicated time to love her right now. I hope, in my heart of hearts, I sincerely hope that sooner rather than later it won't have to be that way anymore. Not just for me, but for all of us who feel that complexity or conflict of emotions.

[snekdood]

ppl need to stop equating being messy with being unhealthy

[wannaeatramyeon]

Being Goo Kim's Secret Friend: Gitae Kim

2.2k. G/N. Gitae Kim x reader. Reader is morally grey. Gets spicy (Prequel-ish: An Introduction) Other Masterlists

“So, let me get this straight."

"Mm." Goo hums, meaning go ahead.

"You're paying me to babysit?"

"Man-sit," he interjects.

"Whatever." You flap your hand, "but I am looking after this person, correct?"

"Yes my little sweetpea." Goo rests his head on your shoulder, so close you could count his eyelashes and see the way his pupils dilate. "It's my secret friend's first time back in Seoul after being away. It'll be good for you to show him around."

"...I'm charging my usual rate."

"Sure-"

"And you're covering our expenses."

He rolls his eyes, "Ugh, fine."

.

.

Gitae Kim, from what you have managed to find out, is patricidal and a powerful man with unsavoury dealings.

"Play nice," was Goo's parting advice when you came to him with your concerns.

"Play nice?!" You say, voice shrill. Goo grins.

"Fuck you, my rate just tripled."

The grin drops and is replaced by a scowl.

.

.

"I thought we could try this place. It serves the best yukhoe." You gaze over to Gitae sitting in the passenger seat as you navigate the roads, checking if there's any response. 

Nothing.

"Raw beef tartare." You explain, "I've heard you can be bloodthirsty."

His eyes flicker to you and you give him your most charming smile.

.

.

Head resting in your palm and elbow on the table, you observe him.

You find his table manners leaves a lot to be desired and watching him has put you off your own meal.

He eats like a beast but if the ferocity that he attacks his food is anything to go by, you're right on the money with guessing his taste.

"Let's get you another drink," you murmur, signalling for the staff. "Goo will kill me if you choke to death and I'm not practised with the heimlich."

.

.

"That was good, right?" You ask, striding alongside and trying to match Gitae step for step as he ignores you.

"I think you enjoyed it. Or you look like you did. I'm not really a fan of raw anything to be honest but gotta be a good host." You direct a smile his way and he hasn't even glanced over at you. You shrug it off and continue to ramble. "I'm still pretty hungry. There's a really good bubble tea place round here and they have a limited edition drink I want to get-"

"No," Gitae cuts in rudely.

"It won't take five minutes."

"No." He repeats, indicating there's no room for argument.

"Aww, cmon," you pout and he once again continues to ignore you. You consider going anyway, with or without Gitae. 

Goo, face scrunched up in anger and shrieking obscenities, pops into your mind's eye when you imagine telling him that you might have lost his secret friend because you wanted a bubble tea.

"Fine," you grumble and throw Gitae a dirty look.

.

.

Gapryong's eldest is a man of few words and it only adds to his intimidating and menacing aura.

You've seen his list of achievements and he is not someone you want as an enemy. But when someone is this difficult, your default is to try and see what response you can get out of them.

"You know they have vapes now," you signal at the pipe hanging from his belt as you continue to walk next to him.

"Do you smoke?" you ask, and expectedly, he doesn't respond,

"No? I guess it's cool you're committing to it for aesthetic reasons." Then dammit, you wonder what has gotten into you. Maybe it's hanging out with Goo too much because you can't help but add, "Even if it makes you a bit... y'know."

He slows, looking over at you at the same time that you pull a face. Indicating clearly you meant 'cringe' even if you didn't say it aloud.

"You do you though," you say, giving him a thumbs up.

He looks at you for a beat longer, head tilted and eyes narrowed, before continuing on his way with you scurrying to catch up.

.

.

By the end of the first week, Gitae has responded to exactly three things that you've said.

The second week, he's still mostly silent but he actually looks at you sometimes when you talk.

The third week, he calls you by your name when he demands your attention and you're surprised that he even knows who you are.

And the fourth - you manage to make him laugh.

Ok, maybe laugh is a bit generous, but he exhales harder than usual and you're sure he's at least amused.

.

.

GItae thinks you're strange.

You run your mouth like you don't know who you're talking to, though you anticipate his needs and preferences like you've been studying him for most of your life.

You're this side of irritating, but not irritating enough that he wants to kill you. 

And, the few times he tunes in to your comments, he admits that he finds you quite entertaining.

No-one has spoken to him like you do in a long time. There's a refreshing honesty to your words, and he's also confident that you're not going to stab him in the back at any second to wrest control of his cartel territory, which is also a welcome change from his usual company

It means that he can relax around you, or relax as much as someone like him can..

All in all, progress. Gitae finds himself trusting you like you're his second-in-command.

.

.

"What do you do for fun?" You ask. Gitae doesn't respond.

Right, you think, back to ignoring me.

You roll your eyes and start to ramble about this and that. You tell him that you're chronically online, giving a wry smile, and say it's a general side effect of your job but at least it's interesting to know the ins and outs of a few things.

Really though, maybe you should consider taking up some exercise to get fit or even as a form of self defence with your line of work and the people you come into contact with (you give Gitae a side eye at this) but it's kinda hard to find the time and-

"I can teach you," comes Gitae's low voice.

"What?"

"I can teach you," he repeats and your mouth drops open in shock.

.

.

Ok, as far as bad ideas go, this is a terrible one.

First, Gitae is huge. There is no chance you could even win in a spar or anything against him. You doubt even bullets would be able to penetrate that muscle.

Second, there is a lot of close contact and even more touching.

You aim a punch with all your might at him, any part of him. He deflects without effort, capturing your fist in his palm and he pulls you to his body. Chest against your back, wrapping his arms around you and pinning your own to your side as you try to wriggle out of his grasp.

He leans down to murmur into your ear. "You're very weak." You can feel his voice rumbling through his chest. "But you're very fun."

Your eyes snap to his at his words.

He's grinning, for the first time you've been with him. Eyes crazed and pupils blown, breath hot on your skin.

"Thanks!" You dip your head just before throwing it back sharply, connecting to Gitae's nose with a loud crack.

.

.

Gitae's nose isn't broken though it is bruised.

You apologise profusely and he tells you you have nothing to apologise for.

"It's a great hit."

You halt in your apologies, peering up at him through your lashes with a smug smirk, "I know."

.

.

Your response plays on his mind.

The lift of your lips, the sharpness of your smile, the confidence in your eyes, that half-lidded gaze.

"I know."

.

.

Gitae sees you in a new light.

He has enough of an understanding of Goo Kim to know that he's selective with his secret friends, and you have talked enough that Gitae also understands you play the role of brain rather than brawn.

Though he did not expect such viciousness to hide under your veneer, or you to be capable of such an underhanded move.

He's impressed.

.

.

"Why do all these shows make Mexico so blue?" You ask, watching a scene unfold on your phone. "Is it actually?"

You hold out the device to Gitae, some drama show playing and Mexico is indeed blue tinged.

"No."

"Hmm. It'll be cool to see for myself." You murmur, pulling your phone back.

Gitae pauses. The idea of you in his territory is very appealing. He can demonstrate to you exactly the kind of man he is, the power he wields. He can relish the impressed (or horrified) look on your face.

"I can show you," he says and you beam at the offer.

"Deal!"

.

.

“How many people have you killed with this?” you flex your hands, signalling ‘gimme’ and Gitae passes over his axe.

“Too many to count.”

“Cool,” you say nonchalantly,  testing your grip. Gitae gives you a strange look.

“I gather intel, remember. That’s my thing,” you say, swinging the axe experimentally a few times and appreciating the heft behind it.

The meaning is clear: I know all your secrets and Gitae, to his surprise, feels some respite at this fact.

.

.

"Fuck," you squirm to no avail, trapped underneath Gitae as he looks down at you lazily, inches from your face.

Your wrists are pinned above your head, held in place by his grip as his other hand rests, light but threatening, on your throat.

You have had a few other training sessions since the first one, and the way they had gone was all pure luck. You had managed to gain the upperhand by complete fluke.

This time you feel completely stuck. Movement completely restricted. Gitae straddles your hips and you’re left unable to escape. You have no way to get close and cause any damage.

"Looks like you lose," he says.

You buck your hips, trying to throw him off but the weight and strength difference is too vast. He barely moves even with all your effort and you’re left more dishevelled than before. Shirt riding up and hair in your eyes and mouth.

“Fuck,” you groan again, elongating the word and pouting.

You peer up at Gitae and find his eyes flicking between your jutted out bottom lip and your sliver of skin on show.

An idea pops into your head. It may be your worst one yet.

Throwing caution to the wind, you tilt your head up in one swift movement and kiss Gitae full on the mouth. You make contact harder than anticipated, almost clashing your teeth painfully together but adjusting the angle just in time. 

His body stills when he realises what you’re doing.

“Why-” he asks, pulling away, and you take advantage of the distance to nip at his bottom lip and reel him back in.

Gitae’s thoughts are cut off. 

You bite down roughly, feel your sharp canines punctuating skin.

Blood bursts onto your tongue and he lets out a guttural groan, eyes boring into yours and darkened with lust.

His other hand releases your wrist, caressing over your body, slipping down until it reaches your bare exposed skin. He slides his palm under your top, long, thick fingers splaying over your ribs.

With your hands now free, you continue kissing him, mingling spit and saliva and bursts of metallic tang.

You squirm and this time, Gitae gives in to what you want; rearranging his position without breaking contact. Tongue delving into your mouth. Tasting you as you wrap your legs around his hips.

Taking advantage of the situation, you hug your arms around his neck and use your body as leverage to flip him over. Straddling him as his hardness grinds into you and his hands circle your waist to press your body close.

You can feel exactly how turned on he is, how much he wants you. And god, you’re just as fucking horny. You want him just as badly, except now you’ve managed to climb on top, the whole point of this came rushing back. You absolutely hate yourself for stopping this but-

It’s the principle.

“You know,” you murmur into his mouth, then pushing up off his chest to sit up, “I think I’ve won. Again”

Gitae frowns at the sudden loss of contact, “What?”

“I’ve won. Pretend this is a knife,” you smirk, holding your hand against his throat, in an almost-mirror image of your previous position. “I would have killed you.”

Gitae’s eyes widened in surprise, “You did this… to win?” 

“Yep!”

“I didn’t expect you to play so dirty.” He says, grinning maniacally as the pieces click into place and he finds himself completely captivated.

“I play as dirty as I need to,” you tell him, tongue swiping out to lick the remnants of his blood from your lips before dipping your head down to kiss him and continue where you left off.

[neuro-psyche]

jason todd is a girls girl.

let me explain (ik ik i say that a lot)

Jason Peter Todd will stand on business if it means helping someone out, especially a woman.

A creepy man following you home? woah that's crazy jason todd is very suddenly your friend and just so happens to be walking the same way.

Someone being a dick to you in public and making a scene? jason intervenes, handling the person after calling you a cab and paying for it up front.

You need someone to watch your drink? Mr. Fucking Red Hood will stand with a gun held over the drink until you get back, regardless of what he was doing.

Jason Todd is a girls girl in my mind and I will die on this fucking hill.

seriously though I feel like he and Steph would recreate that sonic meme that's like

Steph, saying something about how she, Cass and Babs are better than the rest : -and I'll prove once and for all that a female can be just as good of an hero as a male!

Jason : You know, anytime someone calls attention to the breaking of gender roles, it ultimately undermines the concept of gender equality by implying this is the exception and not the status quo.

Steph :

Jason :

Everyone and their mother :

Jason : What? Just because I'm a resurrected zombie freak and assassin, doesn't mean I'm not a feminist. I read pride and prejudice, dammit.

[campbell-rose]

Ok ok i'm a liar oops. Saw the Millie short (I have thoughts) and the season 2 trailer and i had to do my poor sweet underdeveloped bird girls justice.

Octavia is virtually the same personality wise, except she has hobbies that Stolas is completely unaware of but Stella supports fully. Specifically taxidermy, which Stella finds fascinating. I don't vibe with the design after staring at it for a while, but this was just a doodle and potential colors, i'll have to draw Stolas and then figure out her colors.

In demon lore, Andrealphus teaches lots of things, but he is said to teach astronomy, so i decided Stella (as her name would suggest) is very knowledgable on the subject and star gazes. I gave her a galaxy esc dress similar to Stolas's s1 ep7 outfit and changed her colors a bit.

They have a good mother/daughter bond in this because if Viv can't write a good mother figure then I'll do it myself dammit.

Stella is basically now all the fan theories before she was boiled down into a shitty one dimensional abuser to make the uwu gay bird sympathetic with a bit of my input.

She is the younger sister of Andrealphus, who married her to Stolas as a way of moving up in the world - as Stolas is a Prince and Andrealphus is a rank below him as a Marquis. Stella initially was distraught but tried to be good. She tried to find common ground, seeing as both her and Stolas liked stars, but they never clicked fully. When Octavia was born, Stella shifted her attention to her and started being passive aggressive to Stolas, letting her years of anger out on him in little jabs. Things along the line of her throwing a not divorced party but she doesn't loudly insult him in front of her guests.

When Stolas cheats on her with an imp, she's fucking furious. She's given up her entire life to this man, to bring her family name higher and her husband cheats on her with an IMP. The lowest of the lower class, and now her gossipy high society friends she's spent years getting into the good graces of will know. So she's a mix of fucking furious and just a tinge hurt. She's not justified btw, i just want to show her side of things for once because Viv is allergic to developing female characters.

She adores Octavia in my version. Utterly adores her. So of course she takes Octavia and tries to keep her away from Stolas as much as possible. She loves her daughter and wants to raise her better than she was raised.

That's all I might do a Sallie May and Millie redesign again who knows

[the-californicationist]

Cali Cali bo-bali banana fana fo-fali me my mo mali! Cali!

I'm three Budweisers in and got an itch for alpha Price with a sudden need to breed (yay! Surprise rut!), and there's his sweet smelling omega neighbor who he's been keeping at arm's length because he's a professional dammit and has complete control of his urges, thank you very much.

Honestly, I just wanna see Mr. "I'm Married to My Job" lose it and show back up on base abashed and mated, and also ridiculously proud of his lil omega's claiming bite, because "she turned into a wildcat, lads. I couldn't stop her." *wink-wink*

Or not. I'm happy with any smutty Price fic you bestow on us, really. I'm just being weirdly specific because— alcohol = horny thots. 🍺😏🥴🫠

Drunken hugs 🫂 from Random Thot

RTG!! You are the most amazing person, and every time I see your pfp on AO3 or tumblr, I just get all gooey inside. Thank you for the ask! I wrote (and fully deleted) this fic three times because I wanted to get it right. I just pray that I could deliver. <3 <3 Hope this is what you were hoping for!!

MDNI/NSFW -- TW: damsel in distress, ABO dynamics, knotting, fuck-or-die scenarios, CNC, fluids, PIV sex, female OC

Glory, Glory

It was his last beer of the night, and he was ripping it apart. Curling, soggy shards of the torn label were stuck under his thumbnail, darkening the translucent edge and making it look dirty. They littered the sticky, lacquered bartop like ugly snow, falling in a tiny, chaotic mess. His hands were more than just dirty, the captain thought to himself as he used his wide thumb to itch at the glue-covered glass, rolling little, paper shards away from the smooth surface to reveal the amber liquid swirling within. The captain’s hands; they were covered in blood. Not innocent blood, but blood all the same. They’d never be clean again. 

But, that was the job, and he was good at it. His hands were a direct reflection of his hard work. Killing evil bastards kept the world safe. Some poor sob in a factory could clean out the glue-painting machine that pasted these fuckin’ labels on all of these bloody beer bottles because of one unshakable truth: John Price was good at killing evil bastards.

Unfortunately, the killing would need to wait until after the mandated leave window closed again. His argument with Kate still grated inside of his head. He could almost hear her harsh, Yank accent in his ears.

“What do you want me to tell payroll, John? You can’t be here. You’ve got too many days. Go home. See your mom.”

“I see her plenty, Katie. Let me run that ops gig with Keller. C’mon. I’ll do overwatch,” he tried his best to weasel his way back into a bit of active duty.

“You’d be the world’s most expensive overwatch. Hell no. Here’s your ticket,” she shoved an envelope in his hands, “...and your money,” another envelope, “Go the fuck home, Captain. That’s an order.”

An order. More like a toothless threat. 

But, alas, here he was, staring at a freshly shaved, buzzcut version of himself in a filthy pub mirror, undressing bottles left and right. 

“Another, mate?” The barkeep pointed to his almost-empty drink, making a slight grimace at the paper graveyard that was sprinkled across his bar.

“No,” John sighed, pulling out a few notes from his wallet, “I’m off.”

“Happy Christmas,” the barkeep took the bills and didn’t bother to look up again, setting himself to sweeping the torn strips off of the surface, preparing for the next paying customer. 

“You, too,” John muttered, tugging his black wool beanie over his ears before braving the classic cold, wet, and windy Liverpudlian night. 

He didn’t live far. John’s mum had kept up his loft down by the docks, but it certainly didn’t feel like home. Home wasn’t real. Not anymore. As he walked along the Mersey’s edge, he peered into the black water, wondering if he’d ever truly go home again. 

All of a sudden, he heard a shrill scream. Every sense that had been dulled by his lager was now as sharp as a blade and set on its edge. Again, a high-pitched shout pealed through the night air, beckoning him back to his heroism. That keening was the sound of some evil that needed stamping out, and he was hungry for it. 

He sprinted through the warehouse district, chasing the noise of scuffling, ducking behind alleys and abandoned garages, looking for the source. Finally, there was a flash of red that caught his eye, so he ran towards it, his mind making sense of the scene in front of him. 

Voices were jumbled and mashed up together, barely registering in his mind.

“Out here in a fuckin’ heat. Dumb bitch! C’mere.”

“She’s got a knife!”

“C’mere, you little slag. Get –”

In the middle of three huge, stinking Alphas, a tiny Omega was struggling, arm outstretched, brandishing her knife at them to keep them at bay. John came up behind the biggest one, some bald fuck with a dirty coat, and dropped him, cracking his spine in two places with well-placed fists, and breaking his jaw on his way down to the ground, leaving him groaning on the concrete. 

One of his mates, a older man with thick, black eyebrows, lunged at Price, a look of indignant surprise on his face. The Omega screamed, her red coat yanked back over her face by the third man, her knife clattering to her feet. Price focused on Mister Eyebrows, dodging a lazy haymaker before popping him twice in the nose, drawing out his blood and knocking out at least two of his front teeth. Then, John grabbed him by the collar, pulling his jaw into his raised knee and listening to the satisfying splash as he fell into a murky puddle. 

Finally, he set his sights on the last Alpha of the pack whose ropey arm was looped across the Omega’s neck, choking the air from her lungs. He growled at Price, his scent turning to rancid fear,

“Stay back! She’s mine, you big bastard.”

The captain had nothing to say. With a practiced ease, he side-stepped her assailant, breaking the elbow that controlled her throat, making him release her immediately. The evil bastard stumbled back, hand outstretched, bargaining for his life, 

“Wait, wait. I’ll share her with you, how’s that? I’ll even let you have first go!”

A deafening howl came out of his mouth as Price’s boot heel made contact with his kneecap, forcing it to snap at a terrible angle. John’s hand shot out and grabbed the man by the hair on the crown of his head, tugging cruelly at his scalp. Without mercy, John slammed his face into a nearby bollard, and the howling stopped.

It was quiet again aside from the Omega’s trembling breaths. She had recovered the knife and was now pointing it towards John with shaking hands and wide, determined eyes. 

“You alright, love?” Price asked, holding his hands up in a sign of peace, edging towards her in gentle, predictable steps. 

“Y-yeah… Stay! Stay right there,” her voice was bright and clear, and he could hear her strength laced through her words. He stopped in his tracks, respecting her wishes.

“What are you doin’ all the way out here, darlin’?”

“They dragged me over here from Baltic Fleet,” she straightened up, getting her bearings, wiping the blood from a small cut in her cheek, “Fuckin’ bastards. Thank you, by the way.”

“Jus’ doin’ my job,” Price shrugged, waiting for her to lower the knife even further before he continued his approach.

“Police?” She asked, a little confused. 

“Not exactly,” Price smiled, offering a hand out to her, “John Price, Captain of His Majesty’s RAF service.”

“Oh,” she studied him for a moment, and then her eyes fell to the hand, ready to bite but deciding to shake it instead. 

When he touched her skin, Price felt her fever. Shocked, he tightened his grip, not meaning to startle her but too surprised by her temperature to ignore it.

“Christ, love. You’re burnin’ up.”

As quick as a flash, she yanked her hand out of his grasp and retreated back towards the wall of the warehouse behind her, scooting her way towards the corner to get out of his range, ready to bolt. She didn’t respond, but John watched as she wiped her brow, dotted with sweat and covered in concern. 

“Hey,” he moved forward again protectively, “You can’t be out here alone. Not like this. At least let me walk with you. I’ll stay ten paces behind. It’s not safe.”

“I’m fine,” she said with more strength in her voice than what she was ready to produce.

“You’re not. You’re in a bloody heat. When did it start?” He watched as her knees began to tremble, and against her obvious wishes, he helped her sit on the warehouse deck, letting her keep the knife so she could feel safe. 

“Yesterday…” She closed her eyes, trying to shake it off, “It’s… I’m fine. It’s never this bad.”

Now that he was close to her, Price was smothered by the scent of her body. The Omegan glands in her neck smelled like thick, wild honey, and her heat was mixing with her aroma, turning an already sweet smell into a lucious, decadent gourmand, pulling him in like quicksand. 

“C’mon,” he helped her up, “Where’s your place? I’ll get you close.”

The clang of her knife made him glance up to see her eyes closed and her mouth slack. She was out, too weak to withstand the fever and the physical exertion. 

Price felt his body react to her need. He was filled with rage, white and hot, at her situation. Those goddamn monsters were trying to take advantage of her in this vulnerable state. She should be home in her nest, being taken care of by her Alpha, covered in soothing oils and cool compresses, her needy little cunt stuffed full of his knot, staving off these symptoms and enduring them for her. Instead, she’d been hunted, chased, made to fight for her dignity out here in the middle of the docks. Something else inside Price’s chest curled around his anger. 

Possession. 

He tried to shake it off, knowing it came from being unmarked, but it had been so many years as a lone Alpha that he knew how to control it. Or, at least he thought he did. 

Now, though, he found himself pulling at the neck of her coat as he held her in his arms, invading her privacy to check for a bite. He felt the shame wash over him as he covered her skin back up. He had no business searching for a mating bite. She was not his Omega, and he was not her Alpha. 

After a few minutes out in the chilled wind, he made it to his apartment. Thankfully, it was late enough that his neighbors weren’t outside to witness what looked like a literal kidnapping, and he shuffled her inside without much trouble. Price lay her down on his long, leather sofa, careful to rest her head on the soft arm. He went to the kitchen to retrieve a cold rag and pressed it to her forehead, hoping to hold back the fever for as long as he could.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Wake up,” he whispered, trying to gently shed her coat and sweater, peeling her layers off to bring her temperature down to a more manageable level. 

She moaned, her eyes wrenching shut even tighter, her face twisted in pain,

“My head…” She sighed, desperate for some relief. 

“I know, love. C’mon,” John propped her up a bit, moving the rag so that the coldest parts would be against her skin, “What’s your name? I can find an address. Do you have your purse?”

“They… took it? I don’t… I dunno…” She muttered, obviously having a hard time stringing her thoughts together, “I don’t feel so good.”

This was not ideal. Price knew what came next. A high fever, exhaustion, fatigue, nausea, increased heart rate, and then… 

“Alpha?” Her eyes were open, glassy and dark, the pupils fully blown, looking up at him with an outpouring of unfathomable need. Her scent rolled off of her in mind-altering waves, shoving Price’s carefully-built walls out of the way and sending shocks of desire straight to his heart and his fat, growing cock. 

“No, baby. I’m not your Alpha. Who is he? Can you give me a name?” John asked, checking her coat pockets in a rushed panic. He was running out of time. 

“Alpha, please… I need… Help me, please,” her shaking hands reached under his jacket and shirt, her knuckles rubbing against his furry belly, her strong fingers digging around for his belt buckle, getting right to the point. 

Price felt the room flex around him, and he tried to breathe in air that wasn’t saturated by her vanilla spice, searching in the deepest recesses of his mind for some semblance of his self control. 

“Easy, love. I can’t m–mmngh!” Her mouth slotted over his as he tried to protest, stopping his heart and his words at the same time. 

She was heaven. Her smell was making his skin tingle all over his body, down his arms and up his legs, rushing to his central, sacral core. And her taste was even better. His little cinnamon roll, so sweet and warm, burning for him like a flame, hot and ready to scar him for life. 

“Mngh… Love, mmm… Wait…” Price held her back, using more force than he thought he should need, surprised by her sudden power. 

“John…” He met her eyes and found a particular clarity within them. She was coming out of her haze. But, it wouldn’t last. This was his final chance to keep her from doing something she would regret. 

“Darlin’, I can’t. I’m not your Alpha.”

“You smell like you are,” she mewled, rubbing her wounded cheek across his engorged neck gland, spreading his scent all over herself. 

“I can’t,” he moved away from her, trying to hold her in his arms for comfort rather than to bask in her expressive heat, “My work… I can’t leave you here, pretty girl.”

She sobbed out, trying to hold back from writhing against his body, doing everything she could not to make it harder for him to turn her down. Her eyes were rimmed red and pink from exhaustion, and she was staring down at her own hands, vibrating with tremors, slurring her words,

“Just lock me in the bath. I’ll run cold water. I’ll be fine…”

Something ancient and feral snarled in Price’s mind. 

No.

“No,” he said, involuntarily, the voice in his head escaping from his throat. 

“Please… I can’t stop myself… I want your knot, Alpha. Lock me up before I do something to you… Something you don’t want…” She could barely put two words together. Every thought was a struggle. He was losing her again. 

He grabbed her and held her to his chest, clutching her like water in his palm, using all his strength to keep her with him,

“I want you, love. I want… Fuck, I need you.”

All of a sudden, the energy around their bodies stilled. That cracking, sparking electricity that bound them together was roiling just beyond John’s consciousness, ready to surge. But, he stayed perfectly still, waiting to see what she did next. She locked eyes with him and leaned in close, as if she would kiss him. But, she didn’t. She dipped her head down until she found his Alphic gland, swollen and bruised purple from him holding back his lust, nuzzling at it with the tip of her nose, rooting against him, testing his patience, checking to see if his temperament was true. Then, when he let her sniff him in his most potent spot, when she knew his soul was as pure as his scent, that he was true, she sucked his flesh between her lips, drawing his musk onto her tongue.

She’d accepted him. He reeled from it, unable to hold back a groan, his cock jerking against his zipper, thrashing to escape, flooding with hot blood and threatening to fill his knot before he’d even had a chance to taste her. 

John pulled her mouth off of him and stared at her eyes again, in awe of her beauty, his mind swirling and yet perfectly sharp, begging her darkly,

“Give me your neck, Omega.”

The ritual had begun, and as she swept her hair away from her shoulder, pulling it around her back, she bent for him, arching her head down in a submissive bow, revealing her Omegan mating line. It looked like a keloid scar, the raised skin swollen and painful, like a pounding vein that ran from below her earlobe down to the top of her shoulder, full of her hormones and thick with her magic. One bite, and he would be in her thrall, pliant to her every whim, beholden to her needs until her heat had run its course. 

Price had never given his bite to anyone. It had been easy to abstain. In fact, in his youth, he had a hard time understanding his mates’ commitments to their Omegas, scoffing at their lack of duty to their stations, doubting their commitment, and - moreover - doubting their loyalty. He remained a captain through and through, and he’d never made room for anyone or anything else. But, here he was, his teeth aching in his jaw, bigger and sharper than they should’ve been, his every sense heightened and taking her in like a drug, compelling him to punch through her delicate flesh and suck her nectar deep into his belly. 

The feeling of her skin against his lips was enough to send a chill through his body. He was cooling from the inside out, and his body needed her heat. She was forcing a rut to take hold in him, and he could feel himself changing for her. Then, he bit down as hard as he could, breaking the thin seal of her mating line with ease, feeling the searing mixture of her oil and her blood filling his mouth and throat like a ripe plum, wet and sweet, and promising pleasure if he chose to swallow her. 

He drank from her for as long as he dared, taking her in long, slurping gulps, letting her essence coat his throat, feeling the hot fluid burn inside of his chest and down into his stomach where it pooled and lingered, warming him up from the inside out. 

“Alpha…” She moaned, raising her hand to cup his cheek as he sucked her life into himself, rubbing her thumb so softly over his shut eyelashes that he barely felt it. 

John pulled away from her, his eyes fluttering open, her bright orange blood iridescent with her mating oil, making the red cells burn bright like a fresh-cracked yolk, gleaming, trapped between his teeth like gold. He watched it drip down her chest, staining her clothes, and he began to tear them off of her. She let him, limp and mute as he peeled her open, making her naked and pulling her into his arms. 

He carried her into his bedroom, kicking open the door and busting the bolt through the strike, splintering the wood and not giving a shit about the damage. John lay her in the middle of the mattress and set to surrounding her with whatever softness he could find; his shirts, his blankets, even his scarves. Anything warm and comfortable was added to the nest, giving her as much support as he could before standing back to admire his work. 

She eyed him from her recumbent throne, commanding him with her gaze. John stripped off his shirt for her, raking it up his back and over his shoulders, feeling as if he was moving his body for her and only for her. All of his motions, even his ragged breaths, were only escaping from his lungs because she wanted them to. His buckle clattered apart, and he popped open the button of his jeans, lowering the zipper in a sharp, metallic rip. 

Once free, his heavy prick flagged, leaping forward and pulsating for her, proudly showing her his gleaming head. He was drooling an unrelenting stream of iridescent precome, his balls tight and full of Alphic oil, ready to coat her warm insides with his shining sex. 

John climbed onto the bed, his face focused on her wet mound, admiring the plumpness of her, imagining her - in every delicious way - like a tender peach. He crawled to her, his mouth still stained neon orange from her gland, and he smeared her wet quim all over his lips and tongue. He wasn’t licking her so much as he was wearing her like warpaint, moving his nose and cheeks through her to ensure he was soaked in her heady slick, his body making wild, unbridled choices purely on instinct.  

“Yes, baby, please…” Her voice went straight through him like a bullet, tightening his cockhead to an uncomfortable degree, and it jerked against the mattress in protest. Her hands were in his hair, scratching through his scalp, encouraging him to sink his tongue deep inside of her hole. 

John obeyed, helpless to her desire, his mind wiping clean and being rewritten by her will. He was swimming in her scent, drenched in her slick, and gasping against her pussy, his eyes fixated on her form as it writhed above him. When she met his eyes, she bit the inside of her lip, crying out for him, rewarding him for his prostrated fealty. Then, she began to rock her hips against his jaw, fucking herself on his face, and he let her use him to her heart’s content, staying strong and sure, allowing his body to be used, objectified and glorified by it. 

When she began to come, it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He followed his tongue inside of her with two of his thick fingers, pressing against her walls, pushing her over the edge. She bolted upright, wrapping her thighs around his face, smothering him with her body, trapping him breathless between her legs. Her whole being trembled for him. He could feel the shimmer of her very soul, rattling and writhing with her siren-like keening. And just when he started to see spots in his vision, needing air just a little less than he needed to please her, she lay open for him, blooming outward like a flower, releasing him from a limbo he longed to return to, oozing with a stream of rainbow-tinted come, the Omegan oil within her womb escaping to advertise its promises to her mate. 

Without knowing why, John found himself lapping it up from her pulsing hole like a hound, swallowing mouthful after mouthful and grunting with each pass of his broad tongue. 

“John, I need... Please, put your knot inside me. I’ll be good…” She begged, tears shining at the corners of her eyes from her come-drunk bliss, her hands plucking at her nipples and trying to soothe herself down from her high. 

“My pretty girl wants this knot, yeah?” John grinned devilishly, dipping his finger into her over and over and licking it clean like she was a jar of endless honey, “Wants me to breed this gorgeous cunt…”

At that comment, she spread her legs even wider for him, opening up for him like a blossom for the sun, ready to take whatever he had to give her. It was mesmerizing for John to see her like this. Everything about her was filled with intoxication and need. He was just a vessel for her pleasure, pouring himself into her to make her full again. Dizzy and drunk with adoration, he notched his girth at her entrance, struggling to fit even his cockhead within her. 

“Fuck… so bloody warm…”

Her body was burning him with every millimeter he sank into her, the heat of her tight sex in such high contrast with his cool rut. It felt like he was swimming in a roiling pot of sugary caramel, clinging and cloying and sticking to every part of him, and yet it was not enough. He needed more. His hips thrust forward, savage yet steady, reaching deep inside of her like an anchor, rushing to settle himself within her darkness. 

The way his Omega cried out this time was different, and it snapped him to her attention, his mind immediately sensing a new need. 

“Love, tell me what you need.” He purred, his mouth kissing her lips and her neck, lapping at the now-healing wound his own fangs had made, talking to her between long licks of his tongue, “Tell me, and it’s yours.”

“You’re so big. I’ve never…” She sounded ashamed. 

Price slowed to a creeping pace, focused fully on her face, 

“Never had a knot before?”

She shook her head, her eyes full of worry. John wrapped her up in his arms, dragging himself out of her slowly before filling her up again as carefully as he could.

“Tha’s alright, baby. You’re mine, and I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

“Feels like I’m burning alive,” she sighed, her brow furrowing with distress, “John, I need… I don’t know how…”

“Look at me, alright?” He helped her focus her eyes on his, “Don’t… Just stay with me, right here. You’re gonna come for me, and then… I’ll give you what you need.”

“Please,” she whimpered, her voice so small. 

Price set himself on a path with a purpose. He used his hand to rub small, rhythmic circles beside the rigid body of her clit, coaxing her pussy to drop even more slick around him, using every ounce of willpower he had left not to let his knot slip inside of her prematurely. His thrusts were jerky and restrained, but he felt her begin to rock back and forth with his hand’s movements, bringing her closer and closer to her glowing joy. 

“Good girl,” he praised her, watching her as she began to fall apart around him, “Tha’s my good little Omega. Come for your Alpha just like that. Just… mmf-fuck! Like that! Holy fuck.”

The feeling of her slick pussy clenching and twisting around his cock’s tugid body was enough to make him see stars. He felt almost sick with pleasure, his whole core lighting up like a roaring fire, spitting and aching to bury himself within her. 

At the end of her crescendo, he felt himself let go of the chain, and he rutted his knot inside of her, humping himself forward ruthlessly, his body contorting itself to fit her needs. His knot sealed him within her, and although he was not yet orgasming, he was filling her with his come, the creamy flow of it spilling out of his tip, filling her hole and coating his prick from inside of its hungry little sheath.

“Your come… I can feel it inside of me. Oh, my God,” she sighed with some sort of relief, her eyes rolling inside of her head, her arms losing their strength, and her back arching towards him, lifting up as if she would float right into Heaven. 

And just like that, her fever began to abate. With his knot stuffed inside of her, locking his seed within her hole, his Alphic oils could soothe her heat, bringing her back to the realm of consciousness and delivering her from her wild state. 

“John,” she lay back, her hand pressed to his cheek. 

He didn’t answer her. Instead, he bent forward on his elbows and kissed her mouth, chastely at first, and then languidly, exploring her taste. When he did finally pull away, she was awake and alert, sated and happy. He smiled down at her, 

“Hey, pretty girl,” he whispered, wiping her hair back from her face. 

“Hey,” she smiled back at him, wrapping her ankles around his back for comfort, not knowing that it was just enough to set his cock on edge again, his Alphic instinct rejoicing at the feeling of being trapped by his mate. 

“You alright?” John asked, a tinge of worry at the edge of his voice.

“I am now, thanks to you,” she sighed, tucking herself in beneath him, rubbing her hands along his ribs and the soft fur of his back and arms, feeling every bit of him as if she was seeing him with her touch, “You saved me, Alpha.”

“Aye,” he nudged her jaw with his nose, asking her wordlessly to give him the vulnerable softness of her neck. She obliged, and he spoke to her between sucking kisses, “All mine. My Omega. Innit that right, baby?”

She was practically lambent beneath the scrutiny of his possession, rolling in it like a wave in the sand, captured by it and surrendering to the riptide of his unbreakable grip. She nodded, humming her ascent, her expression turning a little rueful right at the end of his kisses. The sorrowful timbre of her voice broke his heart, 

“I’m grateful. But, I know this isn’t what you wanted, and I’m so sor–”

“No,” he kissed her words away, feeling his length throb inside of her, urging him to kiss her again, “No, love.”

“I won’t bite you,” she promised, her gaze still full of apology, “You won’t be stuck with me.”

“Bite me, Omega,” he bent his head and buried his face in her shoulder, giving her his gland in total surrender, “Go on. I’m yours.”

“John…” She hesitated, but he could feel her body flood her hole, excited beyond measure at the thought of binding him to her as her mated Alpha. 

“Go on,” he commanded in his smoky growl, holding her tighter and bracing for the ecstasy of her teeth.

He felt her lips first, and his balls tightened, ready to fling him into a messy orgasm as soon as he felt his gland shatter in her mouth. Her Omegan teeth wouldn’t break the skin, but he knew she was strong enough to crack the shell around his swollen node. The anticipation of her bite was wrecking his mind, and he was gasping for breath by the time he felt her jaw set itself against him. 

“Baby, please…” He whined in her ear, his hips thrusting in short, jerking thrusts, unable to move much with his knot still trapped up inside of her, holding his gushing come in her hole, pushing it into her womb from the sheer volume of it. 

Her teeth connected, and he could hear his unbroken shell give way beneath her strength, the hormones inside of it rushing through his system like wildfire, burning through his veins and making him scream for her. At the same time, John felt his core throw him into a raw orgasm, his whole body trembling above her, wringing himself from the inside out. 

“Alpha,” she sighed, licking his neck to comfort him, “My Alpha…”

“Yours, baby. All yours.”

— — — — — 

The new trainees filed out of the gym, sweaty, bloody, and eager to be out of the captain’s sight. Price had run them ragged, forcing them to spar with practice weapons, pitting them against each other in a strained, exhausting competition. Ghost and Soap sat with Gaz as they eyed their commander, their eyes glued to the fresh bite mark on his neck, shocked into a silent stupor. 

“I cannae believe it. Mated? To which lassie?” Soap asked, dumbfounded.

“I didn’t think he’d ever take a mate,” Gaz marvelled.

“I thought he was savin’ himself for marriage,” Ghost quipped, earning himself a scuff from Soap.

Price made his way across the mat, pulling his sweaty shirt off his back to trade it for a clean one. The red welts and nail-marks across his shoulders and down his belly made Gaz let out a low whistle. But, his commander’s glare stopped him mid-note. 

“Wha’s that, Garrick?”

“Nothin’, sir. Just… admirin’ your battle scars,” Gaz smiled, wishing his two teammates would stop snickering so loudly. 

“Looks like a hell’uva fight, Cap,” Ghost added, looking everywhere but into Price’s icy eyes. 

“Wha’s her name?” Soap asked outright, skipping over the double entendres and going right for the point. 

Their captain sighed, zipped up his gym bag, and stood in front of his three officers, glaring down at them with a look that was on the border of dead-seriousness,

“If I told you that, lads, I’d have to kill you.”

[ashwhowrites]

Dad!eddie x pregnant mom!reader who is suffering with severe pregnancy brain and she forgets to do something important and Eddie gets upset with her, raises his voice a little. He just needs a second to cool down so he leaves the house and reader is just distraught with her hormones and when he comes back he doesn’t realize he left her so vulnerable and upset it really wasn’t a big fight so his heart is broken seeing her tears so he needs to make it up to her

LOVE the angst in this. I hope this is what you were hoping for and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting<3

Missed call

Y/N was just days away from going into labor. She waddled everywhere, constantly in pain, and had a bad case of pregnancy brain. She put soap in the fridge and butter in the shower, and Eddie had a good laugh about it. She spaced constantly on the laundry, piling up. She tried to get out of the fog, but she couldn't.

Eddie was patient and understanding of it. He found it adorable how she'd walk into the room and pout because she couldn't remember why. He tried his best to help her remember things, and help around the house.

Eddie was gone at a meeting as Y/N cleaned the kitchen. Her attention was cut short when the house phone rang, she moved as fast as she could.

"Hello, this is the Munson's, how can I help you?" Eddie's PR manager talked on the other line. Y/N wrote down the important message that had to be delivered to Eddie immediately. Y/N hung up the phone and tucked the piece of paper in her pocket. Eddie didn't get personal calls until lunch, so she had a few hours before she could call.

~~~

Eddie slammed the front door as he marched through the house. Y/N easily could tell he was upset as he sat on the couch, angrily throwing his shoes. She grabbed him a beer and sat next to him. He grabbed the beer as she softly played with his hair. He felt his body relaxing as he leaned against the couch.

"what's wrong?" She asked, her fingers massaging his head.

"Tracy bitched me out for missing a meeting for a late night talk show that I had no idea about! I tried to explain that i was unaware of it but she wouldn't give me a chance to fucking speak. " Eddie ranted, going on and on but Y/N felt the guilt in her bones. Her hand reached into her pocket, the piece of paper with the message she never called about.

"Um, babe?" She said quietly, Eddie hummed and looked at her. His hand was on her knee as he waited for her to speak.

"She called the house and told me. I wrote it all down! I just forgot to call you on your break. I'm sorry." Y/N apologized, handing him the crumpled piece of paper.

Eddie knew he shouldn't get upset at her, it was the pregnancy brain. But he missed a huge opportunity because of it.

"DAMMIT Y/N!" He groaned, getting off the couch, and ran his hand over his face. She jumped at his loud voice, sinking into the couch as he paced in front of her.

"WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS NOW?" he screamed, throwing the piece of paper on the floor. Y/N felt tears in her eyes as he shouted. He was shouting around her, not directly in her face but it almost felt like it.

"I'm sorry!" She cried, tears falling down her face as she tried to stand up. She struggled but made it to her feet. Reaching for his hands. She smiled through her tears when he allowed her to hold his hands. Her hands softly held his.

"This would have been a huge opportunity for me, Y/N." He wasn't yelling anymore but she knew he was still mad. His voice was stern and low.

"I know! It slipped my head, and I completely forgot." She explained. Eddie nodded as he took away his hands. She quickly tried to grab them again but he stepped back.

"I just need a second, okay?" He groaned, throwing on his shoes as he grabbed his keys.

"WAIT! Baby don't leave! Just come relax on the couch, I'll go to the room." She pleaded. But he kept walking towards the door.

"I said I need a second. Your pregnancy brain is out of control and it needs to be fixed" He snapped and slammed the door. Y/N covered her mouth as she sobbed. She always fucked everything up because of her pregnancy brain. It was always the little things but now she cost Eddie a huge opportunity in his career.

~~~

Eddie sighed as he rubbed his face. The loud bar filled his ears as he tried to calm down. He called a friend to come sit with him, he needed to vent but couldn't stand to watch his wife cry because of him.

"So let me get this straight, your PR manager called your house phone, instead of your personal cell to deliver this huge important message and left it with your wife. The wife that is like two days away from birth is suffering from pregnancy brain, and you yelled at her instead of your PR manager? The manager should have called you in the first place." Steve explained, a frown on his face.

"Son of a bitch," Eddie groaned, smacking his head against the bar counter. "You're right. God, I am like the biggest asshole, and easily the worst husband." The guilt ate him alive. It wasn't her fault, Tracy should have called him directly if it was such a huge deal.

"Go home and apologize, own up to it, and make her feel like she didn't mess up your career."

~~~

Eddie slowly walked into the house, the lights off as he looked around. He figured she must have gone to bed, another feeling of guilt knowing she struggled to make it up the stairs.

He sighed and walked into their bedroom, a light on near the bed and her laptop rested on her stomach as she slept.

Eddie stripped off his clothes and crawled into the bed, grabbing her laptop to shut it off. He scrunched his eyebrows as he read the article she was on.

"How to overcome pregnancy brain"

Eddie closed the laptop with a sad sigh, lying down as he wrapped his arm around her. Softly rubbing her swollen stomach as she slept. He kissed her head and whispered apologies in her ear.

He'd wait until the morning to talk it out with her.

~~~

Eddie yawned as he walked down the stairs, Y/N was already out of bed when he woke up. He could hear her on the phone, her voice trembling as she cried.

"No Tracy, please! It was all my fault. He didn't miss it or anything. I forgot to tell him. You have to set something new up, like just ca-" Eddie grabbed the phone from her hand and hung it up. Her wet eyes stared at him as she tried to grab the phone.

"EDDIE STOP!" she sobbed, choking on her tears as she tried to grab the phone, but he threw it across the counter.

He wrapped his arms around her as she cried into his chest. He held her tightly and kissed her forehead.

"It's okay, shh," he cooed, swinging them back and forth as he held her. "I'm not mad and I'm sorry for yelling. None of it was your fault, and it was wrong of me to blame you."

"No! I messed it up. I'm just so stupid and forget everything."

"You're not stupid!" He argued, holding her head to make her look at him. "You are having our baby, and you've been carrying her for nine months. You are amazing. Tracy never should have left the message with you and I shouldn't have acted the way I did. You have every right to be spacey. Nothing is wrong with that or you. I love you so much. Please don't cry because of me." He softly wiped away her tears and kissed her forehead.

"I love you too." She said, cuddling into his chest.

"Now how about we take a nice bath and eat pizza" Eddie suggested, knowing that was her favorite routine to do when she was upset.

Eddie laughed as she yanked herself out of his arms and headed for the bathroom.

A few more days until their family had a new member.

Tags!

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

[mypoorocs]

Thinking about a first time Whumper x veteran Whumpee...

When they first meet:

"You don't seem nearly scared enough. This isn't your first time is it?" "You seem weirdly nervous. Is it yours?"

"Ugh! Out of everyone in the city I could kidnap I had to get stuck with someone else's leftovers!"

"You used to belong to so-and-so, didn't you? Ah! They're my idol! Oh! This is exciting. I get to study their masterpiece up close!"

"WHY AREN'T YOU SCARED OF ME?!!!"

"Oh. You've never done this before." "Stop judging me. I have a knife."

"How is it you know exactly what I like?" "You torturers are all the same." "You've done this before??"

"I won't kill you, but I need you to cooperate. I am new to this, just so you know." "Yup. I'm going to die."

"Mmmm, I love how you move when you're in pain." "Thanks! I've been practicing for years."

"Who taught you to scream like this?"

Whumpee helping Whumper figure out the basics:

"Why are you on your knees?" "Oh sorry. Do you not like that? The last guy liked me that way. I just assumed…" "No, no. It's a good idea. Keep doing that. I just… never thought of it."

"So, what are the rules?" "Rules?" "Yeah, dumbass. Your rules for me. Do you want me to call you sir? Master? Or can I keep calling you jackass?"

"Do you want me to put up a fight or should we skip straight to the submissive stage?" "Oh... uhhh... don't fight too much. I don't trust myself not to accidentally kill you." "Oh, yeah. Good point."

"What kind of scream do you like?" "There are kinds of screams?" "Yeah. The last guy liked it when I ugly-cried. But I'm pretty good a bloodcurdling and whimpering like a kicked puppy. I can try to stay quiet but I can't make promises there..." "Hmmm... try all of them. I'll tell you which I like best."

"You cleaned??" "Yeah? Was I not supposed to?" "I didn't know you could make captives do that?!" "For the record, I didn't do it because I'm scared of you - your arm gets tired after giving me like three lashes. I did it because I'm going to be spending a lot of time bleeding on this table and I doubt it occurred to you to disinfect it."

Whumpee teaching Whumper how to whump:

"Show me what they used to do to you."

Whumper studying the scars on Whumpees body to learn the best places to cut/stab.

"Oh no! A knife? How original!" /s

"If you stab me right there you'll kill me. You have to go one inch to the right. Yeah, right there-AHHHHHH! …yup. Right there."

"I'll make you a deal. Let me have a solid eight hours of sleep and I'll show you where to pinch the nerve that will paralyze my left arm."

"You can't leave me tied up like this!" "I can do what I want!" "Yes. Okay. True. But like, you've either got to tie my knees to my chest or let my feet touch the ground. Otherwise I'm going to asphyxiate."

Whumper having an inferiority complex:

"I CAN DO ANYTHING THEY COULD DAMMIT!" (They = Whumpee's former Whumper)

"WHUMPEE! YOU'RE NOT BETTER THAN ME!" *Whumpee trying not to laugh when Whumper fucks up something really basic.*

"You must think I'm so pathetic." "NOo! Of course not! You're doing amazing! Really you are! I'm so fucking scared of you right now. I promise."

"I'll never be as good as the person who hurt you before." "You'll get there! I promise. I was like his fifth victim - I'm your first. Be kind to yourself!"

"How the fuck did your former Whumper do it?" "Yeah... you're not getting that out of me..."

Whumper being paranoid that Whumpee is manipulating them. Even though they hold the power they feel like Whumpee has more control over the situation because they know more.

Also...

Whumpee knowing just how to manage Whumper. They instinctively know when to be a little defiant and when to do exactly as they are told. They know just the right tone of voice to speak in, and just how to move, scream, to keep Whumper as pleased as possible. The sooner Whumper is satisfied the sooner it will stop.

Whumpee pretending it hurts worse than it does, lying about which places/tortures hurt most, acting more sick or tired than they really are to get rest/food, acting more scared than they really are… It's not like Whumper could know better.

[crappyyuki]

LEGO NINJAGO LES GOOOOOOO :DDDDD

Dragons Rising is so GOOD. MY FIRE BOI FINALLY HAS THE SPOTLIGHT HE DESERVES! WOOOHOOOOO!!!

I love this fiery lego man so much. For being out to the side after season 7, which is probs like 7 years or smth don't quote me on that, he finally gets to shine :,)

Kai Smith as main character is my Roman Empire omg.

Like I'm more of a blue type of person (looks at 2012!Leo, Knb!Kasamatsu, Nightwing, possibly Sonic) but this fire man captured my heart when I was like 9 or smth. HE IS SUCH A BIG BROTHER I LOVE HIM.

(Can you tell that's my favorite trope?)

Spoilers? Maybe? Just in case.

Anyway. Go watch it. Its on Netflix. Idk if its just me but I'm pretty sure I haven't watched S1P2 because Netflix doesn't have it but ITS OKAY CUZ I HAVE CLIPS WITH KAI AND WYLDFYRE I SAW EVERYTHING I NEEDED TO KNOW I LOVE THEM SO MUCH DAD KAI DAD KAI DAD KAI—

If you wanna see Kai content, Dragons Rising delivers like mwah, chefs kiss.

FIRE BREATHING DRAGONS OMGOMGOMG HE IS SUCH A DRAGON THATS WHY HE GETS CLOSE TO DRAGONS IMMEDIATELY HE LEARNED RISING DRAGON FIRST IM SO PROUD I FEEL LIKE A PARENT HOLY CHALUPA.

JUSTICE FOR FIRE MAN!

I fucking hope he'll still be relevant in S3. If he isn't, I'm killing everyone. Kai deserves his own season dammit!

I'm such a starved Kai fan lmao.

Love the other characters too. But. Kai. I have been stuck in the Sahara Desert Nether Space desolate of Kai content for YEARS let me HAVE THIS!

Go watch. Please. PLEASE OH MY GOD GO WATCH I NEED SOMEONE WITH ME TO HYPERFIXATE ON THIS STUPID LEGO MAN.

HE IS SO BADASS BUT SO DUMB AND WARM AND PATIENT AND SOFT AND FIRE AND COLD AND ANGY AND TOUGH OMG—

[lunarw0rks]

i’ve never seen anybody write for simon riley better than u 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 can i request him + manhandling idc if it’s headcanons drabble ANYTHINGGGG ur writing is just too good

A/N: thank you so much, I'm always doubtful about my characterization lowkey, so this means a lot <3 I think about manhandling!ghost several times daily.

Summary: Ghost manhandles you.

Warning(s): explicit content (18+), strong language, smut, rough sex, manhandling, p in v sex, fingering, size kink, creampie, established relationship, fem!reader, no use of y/n

Word Count: 2.3k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST // have a request? ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ ao3 ver.

Manhandling // Drabble

With Simon’s rough and rugged line of work, the last thing he wants to do is exert himself even more, especially at his partner’s expense…

… Right?

Well, that’s not always the case.

Sometimes, he can’t help himself; his full strength is used on them with ease, the shock of it all. The power of his large, calloused hands and bulging biceps. And most underrated, his toned thighs, the force of his knees to pin a squirming hostile.

IT STARTS SLOWLY; the things you’re used to, like a grab of the jaw or a slight tug of the hair, all verbatim of what his hands normally do during foreplay. The first time he wanted to be rough, to manhandle, he told you beforehand. Since it’s such a rarity for him, why not use the element of surprise? The hand on your jaw, the scalp grip, the lack of words in between kisses, you’re just expecting his routine intimacy. But then… it felt different—abrasive.

Your back finds the wall or the back of the couch, his hold caging you there—not that you have a choice, or care to at this point. That other side of him can be so… exciting to see after months of him teaching you like your body is glass bound to shatter.

❝Keep your hands there, dammit, or stay fuckin’ still,❞ the grumble catches your attention because you hadn’t realized how much his digging fingers were making you squirm, all before they even reached anywhere remotely sensitive. In return, your hands remain on his waist, holding onto the fabric of his tee for dear life.

In truth, you’re too intrigued to disobey, and it’s abundantly clear that this side of him had the ability to make this experience tortuous.

NOT GOOD ENOUGH; No, not you—the couch isn’t good enough. In one swift motion, you’re over hiked over his shoulder like a wounded soldier. Only, his supporting hand is gripping your rear and not the legs of a maimed person, as he’d been trained. The shriek you let out, charms him, to say the least, not that his expression would show much of it. Your view is of the curves of his back, head bouncing against it as he takes calculated strides up the steps, as if there isn’t the weight of a grown person literally on his shoulder.

You hear the hinges screech, the same way they do even when you try to open the door quietly, but it’s clear that’s not a concern of his right now because it shuts and locks just as quickly. A tedious habit of his, even when not engaging in intimacy, even when he sweeps the house before bed every night.

Your back hits the mattress with a few bounces because you’ve been tossed. The small gasp you let out, it’s nothing compared to the resonant, growling chuckle that escapes him.

❝Don’t be a prude now.❞ The humor ends when he speaks. ❝I saw the way you were lookin’ at me… you’re enjoying this.❞

His fist finds the t-shirt you’re wearing, one of his, thrusting it upwards and over your head. It’s like your body is moving for you, how you raised your arms when he removed the shirt, but in your head it’s only a thick fog of lust.

NO TIME TO PREPARE; Simon knows his size, and he’s well aware of how harsh he is. He’s not a barbarian—a little foreplay is the humane thing to do.

His tongue is too intimate, and caressing your figure is too slow. After a few seconds of contemplation concealed by his lips on yours, he’s come to a decision. Hands, it is. Similar to the shirt, he nearly shreds the bottoms. With this cloud of his aggressiveness, he’d shred any clothing in his way. There was no time to tease, either. The sooner he can bottom out inside you, the sooner his frustrations will fizzle.

You’re clothless now, aside from the panties, though they were ripped off before you could catch up. ❝Simon,❞ he doesn’t raise his head, but the hooded stare is enough to shut you up. It was more of a moan than an alert, like you were already void of your full articulation.

If you really wanted to stop, for him to slow down, you wouldn’t be grinding your hips against his fingers.

Simon was only rubbing your inner thighs and you’d already said his name once, so imagine his amusement when he runs his thumb along your clit.

He has to stop himself; he’s not there to massage it like he normally would, he’s down there to prepare you for his size. Though, the hypothetical sight of you circling it yourself while he pumps his fingers, it would be enough to make him finish in his jeans.

Whether you do or not is up to you, it’s your body about to be misused, not his.

His head moves from hovering over your sex, to back over you, only he’s nipping at your cleavage and not your upper lips. There’s no warning; you feel it before you can beg for anything. His middle and ring finger, easing its way in, before he wastes no time curling them against your walls.

Still, with one hand occupied, his strength prevails. The unoccupied one is on your shoulder, keeping you pinned so only your hips have any range of movement. ❝Already a mess for me.❞ His mouth is slightly agape, like he wanted it there instead of his fingers. It was true—the methodical, sticky noise, especially when he went faster and it gathered more on the area. After only a minute of this, it had dripped down the length of his fingers, already a small pool on his charcoal gray sheets.

IMPATIENCE; sure, you could try and fight his grip, but you’re only tiring yourself out more. It didn’t matter how much you wanted to touch him, to do something other than lay there and writhe—good luck. He had already pictured this, when he was kissing you downstairs, what position he was going to put you in. Hips controlled, hands free; the opposite of the one he just fingered you in.

Lucky, or unlucky for you, he was aching for release.

His fingers, once pumping in and out of you, removed just as quickly. With skill, he unbuckled his belt and was left in his boxers and t-shirt—eyes commanding, watching you ache for him impatiently. It was almost humorous, him being in charge and hasty, but you’re the one clenching around nothing.

Simon was never one for conversations, and he sure as hell wasn’t now—not when his cock sprang out of his boxers, throbbing and athirst. The tip of it, already slick with pre-cum was futile against the amount of wetness already soaking your core. At least he knew he wasn’t going to break you entirely, only immobilize you for a few hours at most—the thought of that only encouraged his ravishment.

IRON GRIP; for only a few seconds, one hand is on his length, lining it up. He groans lowly, a string of curses escaping his lips when he slips in with ease. The stretch alone could make him finish, how his size is crammed in, despite the warm-up he gave you with his fingers. But it’s not a slow entrance, it’s deep and forceful, so satisfying he would go forever if he could. ❝So fuckin’ tight,❞ he says, yanking your body towards his length, as opposed to using his own hips to pump himself. But that isn’t enough—you’re moving around too much, you can’t help it, he fills you so well.

Rather than harsh words, another command telling you to stop moving, he uses his strength again. For a second, he debated on putting your own panties in your mouth, maybe a hand there instead, but he wanted to hear every desperate exclamation increase the more he used you.

Before, he was only being rough, and it was nothing compared to how ferocious he’s being now. Both hands find your hips, lifting them off the bed, thrusting your weight on his length with all his force. Shoulder blades and above are still on the mattress, while the bottom half of you is lifted. The angle of it, how he’s lifting you, he’s hitting spots so deep inside—so rarely stimulated. And he’s hitting it with such force, a constant, repetitive pound kissing your g-spot. ❝Take it all for me.❞ As if you have a choice in the matter, he’s already bottomed out.

Even if he wasn’t finding that unparalleled spot, the sight of his eyes half-open, the grunts that sound like growls, even just the pure feeling of him inside you would be enough. From his perspective, it’s just as arousing; the mouth agape, your back stuck in an arch, how you pulse around him with each thrust, the sticky mess coating his cock and lubricating his forceful jerks.

FINISH ME; his movements have gone from calculated to sloppy, but the speed has only decreased a thread. The sound of skin meeting skin, each grind of his hips followed by the sound of your wetness, it’s inching him closer to his finish. And you, that spot deep inside you abused and built up in your abdomen like a funnel cloud—it wouldn’t be long now, not while he’s drilling you.

When he’s hitting that spot, there’s no need to press down on your stomach, to stimulate the clit that’s been throbbing this whole time. It’s like ecstasy, making your eyes roll slightly, each muscle from your pelvis to your toes tighten and tremble. If it weren’t for his large hands holding up your hips, there’s no way your legs would’ve been able to support themselves, and they sure as hell won’t be able to after he’s done.

❝Be good ‘nd cum for me,❞ his chest heaves only slightly, fingertips leaving marks where they’ve been digging for minutes straight. It’s more of a beg than he lets on, because if you keep whining like that, he’s going to finish before you. But you’re so close; he’s seen it several times now—the babbling, the shivering, the pleading under your breath—as if he’s going to stop now.

Within seconds of his relentless movements, the arousal his voice gave you, you were there, dissolving into the pleasure building brick by brick for minutes now. It comes like a sledgehammer, leaving you shaking against him while a string of reaction phrases breath through your lips. ❝There it is…❞ A small chuckle leaves his lips, but you’re too lost to notice.

He’s slowed only a little bit, as if to hold off his own release until yours has finished. He can’t be too distracted and miss it, otherwise he’d just have to start all over again—in his mind, he’s unsure you could even handle that, the sheer size and force he would use to do that.

The feeling ripples through you, his thrusts only magnifying it for you. Your hands find anything they can, first a futile attempt to reach him, but the angle makes it difficult. Then, the sheets you could’ve ripped from the mattress if you tried. Without any of your own control, you’ve tightened and pulsed around his cock repeatedly, so much it would’ve been difficult for him to keep moving if you weren’t so drenched by now. You could swear everything muffled for a few seconds, and if your eyes hadn’t tightened shut, there probably would’ve been black spots.

For him, the sight of it was something he would never pass up; downright sexy for him to watch, motivating his own climax to the point of no control anymore. The bulge of his cock visible on your stomach, he can see himself twitch. When he’d once been thrusting your hips onto him, he had stopped now, his own hips tensing as his head leans back slightly.

❝Fuck.❞ It’s a simple phrase, but his heavy breathing clouding the words says enough. Still, your hips are raised and at his mercy, shivering until he decides he’s done. His abs tightened a few times, spilling every last drop deep inside. He can’t help himself, he sneaks in a few slow thrusts afterward, savoring the feeling of your pillowy walls clenched around him—only until he knows he won’t hold back if he doesn’t pull out this instant.

AFTERMATH; his thumb traces your hips in a soothing manner, letting them down slowly until you’re resting on the mattress again. ❝Shouldn’t have let me do that, or I’ll want to do it again next time.❞ He lets out a deep snigger, pulling himself out slowly. He finds the waistband of his boxers, pulling them up to a normal position again. Then, he finds the throw blanket that ended up tossed onto the dresser, an action he must’ve done in the heat of it, due to his lack of memory.

❝Do what? Make me finish?❞ you ask, breathless and flushed. The quilt is draped over your shivering frame, like an unnecessary apology for the abuse. It seemed no matter how many times you insisted he could be rough, or how many times he was, he fussed over you.

When your tone came out slightly snarky, cocky even, he scoffed. His mind flooded with those images again, biting on his bottom lip with every ounce of his restraint. ❝Don’t get cute with me, love, that’s not what I meant.❞ His menacing nature would once send a chill down your spine, but after that, you’re hoping he’ll do it again, despite the ache in your muscles.

He finally finishes his sentence once he’s leaned in for another kiss, breath on your ever-gasping lips, ❝I’ll always make you finish.❞

[half-oz-eddie]

Shut up shut up Steve and Billy would be such a good couple

Steve would laugh at Billy's sarcasm and dry humor, he'd tell people Billy's so strong and so good at basketball, he'd beg him to let him drive the Camaro. They'd stay up all night and sleep all day. They'd make fun of people and honk at pedestrians to startle them for fun. They'd trespass, they'd kill monsters together, they'd have hot sex and laugh so much and Billy would be able to cry so much because Steve would be like "hey, shh, shh it's okay I'm here"

"I love you more" "no I love you more" "no I love you more" "I'll fucking kill you because one of us is fucking lying"

Billy's in the kitchen making Steve food, remembering something he mentioned casually that he wanted to try because Billy remembers everything. Remembers all their anniversaries and Steve's birthday and he helps Steve with his homework because "don't sweat it, you're not stupid, you just suck at some stuff. I suck at some stuff too."

Yeah. They're good together. Not perfect of course.

They'd fight and fight and fight until someone shouts "I can't do this," only for them both to be too stubborn until someone's knocking on someone's door like "you left your shoelace at my house" "that's not my shoelace."

One of them apologizes in a roundabout way, maybe Billy, then they have makeup sex and maybe they'll be less stubborn and bitchy next time (they won't but dammit they'll keep at it)

Steve will be the one to bring up marriage and kids and Billy will be avoidant until he has to admit to himself that he can't fucking get rid of this guy no matter how many walls he puts up or how many times he stumbles to his house with a black eye because all Steve wants to do is save him!! And Billy wants to pretend he doesn't need to be taken care of and like he's the big bad protector in the relationship until his head is in Steve's lap and he remembers that he can close his eyes and he never has to flinch because Steve doesn't want to break him in any way!!!!

They're both dating their best friend!! Who is also their enemy! There's no one I want to kiss more than the person I want to kick in the face everyday! It has to be you and I can't get enough!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[liveontelevision]

Suffer Pt. 3

Suffer Part 3 is here! I'm planning on having at least two more parts, I was not expecting this to become a whole thing but :') I gotta see it through now lol

When I say I love slowburn fics, I mean it dammit.

Disclaimer: This is my personal interpretation of the characters from Hazbin Hotel. I respect the canon storyline and characters, but this fic will stray from it a decent amount.

(This series is complete! All parts are listed on my master list and are linked below!)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

♡ ♡ ♡

Holding a small, sleeping Charlie close to your chest, you swayed her back and forth. Your eyes fluttered shut, as you danced around the familiar nursery, humming the same tune you've used to calm her down for years. She was asleep. Safe and oblivious to any of the chaos around her. You envied her. With one final spin, you let your eyes open. Your arms were empty. She was gone. The comfortable weight of her tiny figure instantly went away. You panicked, the room you were in was shifted into something unfamiliar and uneasy. A source of light finally drew your eyes. A distant doorframe provides light, casting the silhouette of a tall, curvy woman. Her eyes were glowing.

“L-Lillith?” There were sounds of a baby crying out and the intimidating figure became far away, ceasing any light and drowning you in a darkness that you've felt before. Long ago.

A heavy knocking at your door forced you awake. As you sat up you went to wipe the sleep from your eyes, only now noticing the tears streaming from your face. Just a dream… The knock was louder and quicker this time, forcing a response out of you. “Gimme a minute! Fuck -” You roll out of your bed, going to turn off the radio on your nightstand. Having the radio on throughout the night was something Alastor suggested, obviously, after you confided in him about having a series of nightmares. His show is broadcast while you sleep, and when it isn’t, the radio static actually acts as a soothing white noise. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it kept you from going insane in the least.

You finally approached the door, your body still wrapped in your large blanket that trailed across the floor. A cheerful, as always, Charlie stood at the door. She was quick to say good morning, but went straight to the point without letting you respond. She clearly practiced this.

“So! I know my dad's visit a few weeks ago was a liiittle… Tense? But - uh, I was wondering if you two talked yet..? By chance?” She spoke like she would be scolded for saying the wrong thing. You shook your head, still slowly blinking awake. 

“Well - okay! I was just asking because he.. keeps.. asking about you…” she held her phone out to you, letting you scroll through some of the messages he’s been sending her. You chuckle at first, he can't text for shit. But she was right. Ever since you blew him off that day, he's been asking Charlie how you've been and what you've been up to.

“I mean, I love my dad and it's awesome he's finally talking to me again, but - I don't know, if it's not too much to ask, could you maybe just.. talk to him?” Charlie rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, and her words broke your heart a little. It's cruel of him to try and reach out to you that way, put Charlie through that distress, but maybe you could've handled your last encounter with more care.

How could you say no to her?

“Yeah, i’ll talk to him, Charlie. Don't worry.” A yawn interrupted your sentence, but you still sent her a reassuring smile as she finally relaxed her shoulders.

“That’s great! I’ll just give him your number!” She planned outloud, turning away to head down the hall.

“Charlie- “ You called out, “He loves you, you know that, right? Don’t forget that.” Charlie’s smile drooped for a second, then quickly picked back up. She nodded as she left your view.

With a yawn, your body still not registering that you were awake or what you had agreed to, you went to shut your door. It didn't click like it usually does, so you turned to see the blockage - Alastor. He'd stuck his foot in the door to prevent it from closing entirely.

“Good morning, my dear!” his voice was booming, as he threw his arms out in a dramatic flare, your door swinging open.

Nope, you were too tired for this.

“Fuck, Al, can't this wait ‘til I'm at least dressed?” You tossed your blanket aside, rummaging through your drawers to cover the little silky tank top and pajama shorts you had borrowed from Angel during your first nights at the hotel. Maybe it was your sleep depravity, or just the fact that Alastor has made it a habit to be extra kind to you since you arrived, but you didn't mind him seeing you in sleepwear. He had no ill intent, as far as you knew.

“Unfortunately, it cannot! I heard you're going on a little outing with the king! How exciting~” He hummed, sitting at the edge of your bed as you cover yourself with your sweater. You plop down next to him, still wiping your eyes. He reached out, swiping his thumb across the apple of your cheek. Looking down at his hand, swiping your tears across his fingers, he met your suddenly embarrassed gaze.

“Another rough night, dear?” You weren't sure how he knew that's what that was from, but you nodded anyway.

“Just another nightmare, it's fine. They're always about Charlie and - the mistakes I made when I was taking care of her.. I guess it still kind of bugs me.” He let out a pitied hum, as he stood to turn your radio back on. He tuned it to some old timey jazz music before resting his hands behind his back. You didn't know it could play music..

“Well, it seems that meeting with that royal menace may not be the wisest choice. Wouldn't you agree?” You looked down before letting a sigh slip from your tired lips.

“It's fine, I can handle myself. Besides, he keeps bugging Charlie and I - I feel like I owe her..”

you shake your head, standing to your feet and beckoning Alastor out of your room.

“It's fine! It's just a quick visit, I won't be gone long.” He took your hand give it a quick kiss, a reassuring smile on his face.

“Well, if he does anything to hurt you, love -” love? “- I'll be right there to help.” He emphasized the end of his sentence with a quick tap on your nose before leaving your room. The music faded back into static as soon as he left.

You heard stories about their fight, plus you could hear their aggressive duet from your room that day, but you believed him either way. You had no doubt he could swoop in and save the day if you needed it. You wondered why people seemed so wary around him. He was a perfect gentleman to you, even with all the warnings you've gotten from Husk and Vaggie.

He had you wrapped around his finger.

You didn't think you would stress about what to wear. You hadn't even made plans yet, but all of sudden, you worried about what he would think of your clothes if he saw you. Charlie sent you his number, so it was on you to reach out. You ignored it for now. You’d ignore it forever if it would keep these feelings from resurfacing. Finally deciding on an outfit, just a black turtleneck that left your arms bare and a skirt that hugged your curves in a lovely way. Even if it probably wasn't the easiest skirt to bend over in, you decided it would do.

A lot of your clothes were hand me downs or were lent to you by either Angel, Vaggie or Charlie. None of it was truly your size, but you had no problem adding in some extra panels or cutting things to your liking. The sweater you grabbed previously was actually gifted to you by Alastor. You had no idea why he would give it to you, a simply red cardigan with a soft knit, but it quickly became your favorite accessory. Pulling up the collar, you buried your nose into the knitting, taking a soft breath in. It always smelled of whiskey and honey, no matter how often you washed it.

You went through your day like normal, followed along with some exercises Charlie was running and taking a quick trip to Cannibal Town with Alastor, something you did every now and then. It started off with him accompanying you to the bakery, where you would occasionally lend a hand, then he would split off to spend the afternoon with Rosie. As time went on, he would ask you to join him.. It was intimidating at first, but Rosie was nothing but a sweetheart, you had no problem fitting in with the two.

when you returned to the hotel, you finally mustered the courage to call Lucifer. With a quick pep-talk to yourself, you held your breath before bringing the phone to your ear. He picked up immediately.

“Hell- Erm.. uhh.. Shit, how do I -” Did he realize he answered the call?

“Helloo? Lucifer here - speaking! Who-who’s this..?” He knew who it was. You assumed this was just him trying to be casual. He wasn't very good at it.

“Lucifer - It’s me.. can we talk?” You were gripping the end of your sleeve nervously with your free hand.

“Yes! Yes, of course! When are you free? We can.. figure something out, right?” You could hear him tripping over himself, kicking things around, and something that sounded like a squeaky-toy being stepped on? His excitement made you giggle. Even with pulling your phone away to try and prevent your laughter coming through, he was losing his mind on the other end of the call. It felt like a nostalgic punch to the gut. He didn't realize how much he missed your laughter until now.

“I guess i’m free whenever.. Charlie doesn't like doing exercises on the weekend, so -” A breeze hit your face, blowing all your hair past your shoulders. Looking to the source, a golden edged portal had opened right in the middle of the hallway. A fidgeting Lucifer was standing with his hands behind his back, a nervous but excited looking grin across his face. You looked down to your phone, seeing the call was still going, then spotted his phone sitting on a table behind him. You let out the smallest huff, before hanging up and tucking your phone away.

“Missed me?” He said suavly, wiggling his eyebrows at you. God, you did. You couldn't admit that though. Your anger, guilt and nerves overshadowed any joy that he may have brought under different circumstances.

“Yeah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” You rolled your eyes, beginning to step towards the portal. He reached his hand out to you, and he noticed you hesitating. “it’s uh- it’s a little bit of a drop if you step through the - um.. just.. wanted to -” you took his hand that he almost retracted, and carefully stepped over the border of the portal. You tried to keep your mind from noticing how your hand perfectly fit in his.

Static filled your core as you left the hotel, but before you could turn and see if Alastor was nearby, the portal had shut and the static ceased.

If he does anything to hurt you, I'll be right there.

Alastor's words rung through your head one last time. You finally met Lucifer eyes after literal decades.

“Um.. Tea?” Lucifer was fiddling with his ring again. Years ago, it was something you noticed he did whenever he was nervous. You nodded and watched as he conjured up everything needed to brew hot tea.

“What, you don't use any of the servants for that? Not even some angelic magic?” Small talk felt like it could make this moment less awkward. As he poured the already heated water into two teacups, he simply shook his head.

“Angelic power is great and all, but nothin’ beats fresh tea.” His smile was so sweet. You nervously balled up the sleeve of your sweater into your hand and brought it to your nose, breathing in the same sent that always seemed to calm you.

“And.. I- ahem.. I ended up finding other places for most of the staff after..” he said it quietly, unable to call attention to his missing spouse. Definitely a touchy subject for both of you. You finally looked around, realizing you recognized the tea room. It was small, but was walled in entirely with windows. It had a great view of the little garden that used to be brimming with difigured, yet beautiful, greenery. You took another look around the room, the nostalgia wearing off, taking in the dust and trash that was collected in the corners. The garden had died off as well. It wasn't completely unslightly, but the mess didn't make sense for a royal manor.

His words finally hit you.

“Found other places? What does that even mean?” You could feel your blood boil, watching him place the tea bags in each cup. You calmed for a moment, seeing that his hands were shaking.

“I just found places for them to work, is all. Sent the stylists to that Velvette girl in Pentagram City, some of the cooks went down to the Glutton Ring, ya know. Stuff like that. I wanted them to be taken care of.” He passed the cup to you, then pulled out one of the two chairs at the small table sitting in the center of the room.

“I just wanted to take care of them..since, I-I couldn't do that for you..” His voice was low, and when you attempted to look at his face he would sip from his cup or turn away. Don't be worried about him. He doesn’t deserve that.  It was all so long ago, it doesn't matter. Remember why you're here. 

“Good for them. Now, I'm here because you're bugging Charlie. Stop asking about me idiot, she's gonna think something’s wrong.” You placed your half empty cup down. He choked on his drink at your words, not realizing that you had seen the poorly written texts that he was sending to Charlie.

“And nothing is wrong. Right?” Lucifer scratched the back of his neck nervously, then opened his mouth as if to say something. He didn't. He simply nodded at first. 

“Y-Yup, right.. Everything's fine. l'll stop asking about you.” You went to stand, brushing the wrinkles from your skirt off as you did. That's that. You came here to get Lucifer to stop bugging Charlie and that's what you did. There's no other reason for you to  -

“Wait, please..!” His hand took a hold of yours, as he almost stumbled out of his chair to keep you from walking off. “I just want to say - “

“ - no you don't have to. It was a long time ago. Everyone makes mistakes, right?” You tried your best to keep your cool, but clearly it wasn't working. He winced at your words, releasing his hold on you.

“I have no excuse. I can't make it all go away, I still feel - “ he clasped his hand to his chest, struggling to figure out what he's trying to say.

“I'm sorry. I don't need you to forgive me, but please know, that I am sorry.” The room went silent, with your back towards him, the only thing you could hear was the beating of your own heart. Lucifer didn't know what to do, until the silence was broken by a pathetic little sniffle.

Dammit, not again. Don't let him get to you. Keep your walls up.

He quickly approaches you, his hands hovering over your shoulder, as if you’d shatter if he touched you.

“Nono, please, I -uhh.. I'll leave Charlie alone! I'll stop talking to you, I'll leave you alone if -”

With a quick turn, finally faced him. Letting out a breath you'd been holding in for far too long, you rush towards him with the intent to meet him with a long overdue embrace. The sudden leap left him staggering backwards, tripping over nothing and bringing both of you to the floor. “Don't you dare! H-How could you.. why would think that's what I want..?” Your words were muffled into his shoulder, since he had placed a hand over your head to protect you from the fall. Not even acknowledging that you were suddenly sitting on the floor between his legs, he finally managed to process your words. It took him a moment to even try and reciprocate the hug. He hadn’t been touched like this for years, it nearly overwhelmed his senses.

“ I want to know what happened that night! I want to know how you feel, or I guess felt, about me.. I dont care if it hurts, please tell me the truth..” all of the questions you've been asking yourself for years suddenly spilled out.

You felt absolutely pathetic, relying on him to tell you everything okay. But fuck, you needed this. Even if you never talk to him again after this, you needed some kind of closure.

“Woah- that's uh.. that's alot to drop on guy.. Uhm…” It wasn't like he didn't want to admit what he was feeling. With the relationship he had with Lillith, he had just become accustomed to not talking about himself much. That being said, with one look Into your teary eyes, he was all yours. He carefully took your hands from around his waist and held them in his own. He gently traced his thumbs along the top of your hands, letting you calm down before he went on.

“I.. I think about you all the time, I always have. I don't know what I would've done differently that night, but I'd do anything to take it back. To fix it..” The sweet smile on his face barely made his words sound better.

“I don't understand, Lucifer.” Your voice was quiet, and cracked a bit when his name passed your lips. You saw him jolt slightly, hearing his own name through your sweet, yet saddened voice.

“Well, I guess..Li-Lillith and I-” You both winced at the mention of her name. “- we weren't what everyone expected of us. And you were one of the only demons to know that. She- ugh.. I don’t know she left without a word, without a note - I have no idea where she went.” You felt like you were getting let in on a secret that he had been keeping for years. And maybe that's exactly what was happening. Your face went pale, your head swaying slightly, Lucifer took a hold of your arms and helped you stand, guided you back to your seat.

“It's not because of me, is it?” You said quietly, as if Lillith was just around the corner, ready to scold the two of you. Again.

“No! No, geez, if it has anything to do with you, then I'm to blame. Don't worry.” He still smiled at you, his face becoming strained after grinning for so long, then placed a hand over yours.

“Don't worry? Yeah! That shouldn't be too hard.. you idiot.” You rolled your eyes, but didn't pull away at his touch.

“I'll get straight to the point then, if you think I'm such a clown -” you couldn't help but grin at his self deprecating humor, and he's so relieved to see your smile.

“With you being in Charlie's life again, I'd like to.. I don't know, clear the air? Try and patch things up..?” You went to deject the idea, but he went on before you could.

“I know it won't be easy, and it's okay if it doesn't work out. But we all used to have so much fun together.. I think right now, it could be good for Charlie, and me, to have someone like you around.. I want you back in my life.” His little spiel seemed scripted up until that last part. Your heart throbbed. You were known to always decline help from people, avoid handouts, but the rush you felt hearing Lucifer say he needs you, you were almost swooning.

“Besides, we've both grown up! Moved on-  Right? I have all of Hell to keep an eye on, and you've got your little boyfriend back at the hotel so -” You wasted no time in correcting him. The idea of him thinking you had moved on with another demon made you panic for some reason you would never admit to. Why did he think you had a boyfriend? Who would - 

“Al?? Oh no, it's not like that, I swear. He's just been a good friend to me since I went to the hotel, is all.” 

“Al, huh?” He grumbled, leaning back in his seat ans crossing his arms over his chest. The warmth he left on your hand was immediately missed.

“Alastor, you know. The.. um.. You met him.” You held the sleeve of your sweater to your nose again, allowing the sweet air into your lungs. Fuck, he couldnt take his eyes off of you. He never wanted to take his eyes off of you, again. You just looked so pure in your little sweater.

But, that sweater.. something seemed off about it to Lucifer. He could feel some strange energy emitting off of it. It didn't come off as dangerous, but it definitely left him feeling uneasy. Like a headache that's just barely there, suffocating his thoughts. He's felt that before. It clouded his actions and judgements during his fight with-

“Hey, uh.. Be careful around that deer guy, will you? He seems pretty intimidating. Not to me, of course, but you know. Just in case.”

“Just in case of what?” You leaned forward, with your elbows on the table, propping your chin up. “Are you jealous?”

“Wha-What?? Of course not, I'm the king of Hell, I obviously trump him in every aspect.” There it was. There was that cocky, little bundle of nerves you used to know all those years ago. Everything finally hit you with the lost time, seeing that side of him.

“Lucifer, I missed so much. I wanted to be there for her, for Charlie.. I know I was just a babysitter, but there was so much more I wanted to do, so many things I wish I could've seen with her. With you, too.” You placed your hand overtop of his, just as he did to you earlier. He obviously wasn't expecting the reciprocation, flinching slightly at your touch.

“I guess I get what you're saying.. about taking that day back? That maybe if I didnt attack you the way I did, that I could be there longer. But… I was in love, Lucifer.” He stifled any giggles at the idea that you considered that kiss an attack, but nothing mattered after what you had said. He immediately flushed in the face at your words.

“In love..?” He barely whispered the words, his eyes sparkling. He felt a stabbing sensation in his chest, a familiar one, but still one that he hadn't felt in years.

“Yeah.. hm, it would've happened sooner or later, I think. I think I would've done it at some later point, if it didnt happen then.. I guess I'm just glad I left before Charlie could remember me. It all worked out, so - I guess what i’m saying is - we can try. Let's try being friends, again.”

What a bittersweet resolution.

“Okay. I'd like that.” He was fighting off any unwanted feelings. Burying any ideas to just profess that he felt the same way, and that he still does. That he wants to pick back up right where you left off. That he barely kept the longing, of feeling your lips against his, at bay. No matter how hard that was, things were looking up. Don’t blow it, Lucifer.

You chatted for a little while longer. You told him about your struggles after you were fired, all your interactions in Cannibal Town, the good and bad, then your eventual arrival at the hotel. The conversation lightened a bit, as you told stories about Charlie, giving him a much needed update on how she was doing when she wasn't stressing about a visit from him. You went on, talking about the other residents that he didnt have a chance to interact with last time. Obviously, that part of the conversation went into heavy detail about Alastor and all his little gifts and kindness.

Before you noticed, Lucifer held the edges of his chair, his hands gripping tightly into the metal at every little sigh or giggle you'd make in reference to something Alastor did. He'd dismiss it as jealousy for now. But that didn't stop him from rerunning that one moment in his mind. The moment where he was holding you. Touching the small of your back, just like how he used to.

The way you stood so close to him, that he could wrap his slender arm completely around your waist, and the confidence in your dismissal of Luficer's general presence. It was commendable, no matter the subject, he loved seeing your more confident side. Your words still hurt. The topic eventually came up.

“Oh god, Lucifer! I'm so sorry, I almost forgot about that.. I didnt mean anything, that was completely rude of me to treat you like that. I felt something come over me, seeing your face again, I just - I don't know, it was probably just some repressed rage? I'm sorry.” He quickly waved his hands, offering you reassurance in your actions, admitting that he felt he deserved it after everything.

“Don't say that, I was out of line. What you did to me doesn't excuse my actions.” You admitted. Was forgiveness possible in this situation? He had pushed the possibility so far down in his mind that a mutual respect seemed like an unachievable goal. And any reciprocated feelings were merely a dream.

This felt like a dream.

You asked how he was. He didn't hear that question often, so he didn't really answer with fun stories or anything exciting. His mind went into autopilot after you left. And after Lillith left, a lot of memories seemed suppressed. You asked about Charlie. He was worried you'd do that.

“Well- She uh.. went through her whole teenage phase, you know, goth makeup, boyfriends, a bunch of stuff she grew out of. She spent more time with.. her m-mother, though.. as she got older. But hey! Here she is now, doing the whole hotel thing, I'm very proud of her.” He nodded, clearly ready to move off the topic. But you weren’t.

“She looked up to you, you know. A lot. Oh man, she would cry for you all the time, constantly try to get into your workshop - as cute as it was, I wasn't ready to chase her down all the time. And i’d say she still looks up to you, Lucifer. You inspired her, I can tell.” You swayed the backwash of your tea in your cup, the pot was emptied long ago. Looking up, you see a trembling smile then watch him exhale a shaky sigh.

“Thank you.” He said softly. You couldn't stop yourself from leaning towards him a bit, after placing your cup down with a small clink.

Stop, Don't do this again.

Things might be different this time, but it can only go wrong in some other way, you were sure of it. Still, he leaned in as well. As you got closer, ready to shut your eyes to the reality and just let your fantasies take over, he reeled back, cover his nose and mouth with his hand. You jumped back, clearly embarrassed. He wouldnt call attention to it, leaving you to wonder what went wrong, but the scent from the sweater. It was disgusting to him.

“O-Okay, good catch up. I should get going, I - umm.. I promised Charlie I'd help her with something, so..” That was a lie. But if you spent another moment in that room with him alone, you'd have no control over what happened next.

“Oh.. right. Here -” He rose from his chair and opened the portal back up, leading to the same hallway you were in before. Turning back to him as he approached you, neither of you really said goodbye. Neither of you wanted to say goodbye. After an awkward exchange of trying to figure out if this should end with a handshake, a wave, a kiss - nope not that one. a kiss would be too much. But a hug?

Lucifer carefully placed his arms around you, encasing you close to his chest. He could feel your heart rate increase. The scent of your cardigan you wore overwhelmed him, but he refused to let go after feeling your arms lay comfortably around the back of his waist.

Good lord, this man hadn't gotten any in centuries. it took all of his strength to not trail his hands underneath that damned sweater and pull it off of you, feeling his way up your torso, sliding just the clawed tips of his fingers under your shirt until you - 

“Lucifer?” Your words were mumbled, your face pressed against his chest after he had tightened his grip.

“Hoof- sorry.” He quickly pulled away. You immediately missed the touch, but it was definitely for the best. For both of you.

“Well, Thanks for coming by.. you have my number..? Right! Call me whenever you want, I'm not busy-” Sure. The king of Hell wasn't busy. He just didn't want to admit that he’d drop anything he was doing if it meant hearing your voice. You nodded your head, taking a firm grip on his hand as you stepped carefully out of the portal and back into the hotel.

“I'll see you, Lucifer.” You said sweetly, he visibly melted at your words.

“I hope so.” With a quick wave, the portal cinched shut.

---

Alastor stood in the hallway, right where the portal had closed, greeting you with a stretched smile.

“Darling! How was your little visit? I wasn't expecting him to sweep you off your feet so soon, I hope it went well.” He approached you, tapping his microphone to the ground and leaning into you.

“You never called for me, I’m hoping he didn’t hurt you. Again.” His voice crackled and a high pitch ring made you cover your ears for a moment.

“No, Alastor, it was good! We're gonna try and work things out, see if we can be friends again. I think it went the best it could, if you ask me.” You hummed with a sense of confidence, strolling dwon the hall with Alastor following beside you. You didn't notice his eye twitch and his ears folding back at the mention of his full name. He was losing you.

“Just be careful, dear! We don’t want you to make any mistakes again, do we?” He had no idea what he was talking about. Right? You hadn’t told him anything.

“Well, it’s about time I run some of my errands. Let me know if I can be of service to you.” A signature greeting for you at this point, Alastor reaches for your hand and presses another kiss across your knuckles. He looks up at you the way he usually does, but he let his lips linger for just a moment longer. Shutting his eyes for a moment, he tilted your hand to place his nose against the sleeve of your gifted sweater, inhaling the scent and exhaling with a hum.

“R-right, I will. Thanks.” You pulled away from his grasp, his eyes suddenly shooting open. You pulled away from him. That hasn't happened before. He wasn't nervous, exactly. But he did disappear into his shadow, which darted down the hall in the blink of an eye, leaving you with nothing but innocent curiosity.

♡ ♡ ♡

To be continued! Stay Tuned ;)

!Taglist!

( @vififofum @thornwolfy235 @tinywolfiegirl @chipper-chip @bat-boness @misfitgirlwrites @nayomi247 @lonelymisunderstood @escapistoftherealworld @b4ts1e @hamthepan @kyo-kyo1 @looking1016 @polytheatrix @littledolly2345 @lillianastuff @yourlocalcryptidbee @0strawberrysorbet0 @themageofblood @jayyyayaysblog @floralsightings @azmosposts @8har0ley8 @actuallyspiderwoman @sirenetheblogger @christineblood @kaytemchugh @cimadreamer @simpdevil66 @azmosposts @m3ow1 @acrazyartist @redfoxwritesstuff @4k1to @meesachan @corvusskid )

[insomniactic-daydream]

Prove It - Bakugo x Reader

Bakugo x Support Course Shoto's Twin Sister Reader (Pt.1)

Summary: Bakugo is a absolute perfectionist so he needs the best support items he can get. It just so happens that one of his bigger opponents in class has a even smarter support course sister

After Bakugo's failed assignation attempt on Midoriya, Bakugo found himself with now two useless gauntlets. Although the design was almost flawless and the gauntlets did what it intended, Bakugo felt they weren't perfect. So off to the support course he went.

"HAah?! What do you mean a 1st year extra has to do it!? The hell are you here for then!" The blonde yells in aggravation that support gear were not in fact handled by the teacher rather the newbies that need experience.

"I'm paid to teach students. Not to single handedly fix the hero course stuff every time they abuse thier gear", the support course teacher Power Loader says sternly. Bakugo tenses up in anger but remains silent, knowing the teacher wasn't entirely wrong.

"However if you're desperate for some talent I suppose I can point you towards some of my students that show more potential and you won't scare off too easily" the teacher says with a sigh.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU SAY!?" Bakugo yells but is completely ignored as the teach walks to open the support classroom doors.

"Hastume! Are you-" the teacher unable to finish his sentence as a gear disk comes flying toward the door. Bakugo glares at the teacher and glaringly says no.

A quick "Sorry Sensei !" is heard from what Bakugo can only assume is Hastume as the teacher sighs.

"Seems like Hastume has her hands full how about hmm... Y/n!" The teacher calls out for the girl.

Bakugo scans the room to see any response to who Y/n might be. Instantly his eyes connect with a girl with black hair and piercing blue eyes.

(It'll make sense later trust.)

A soft but dull "Yes, Sensei?" comes out of the support course student's mouth as bakugo wonders why you look familiar.

"Looks like you've got your first customer. I trust you can consult him and give him the support gear he needs. This is you're next week assignment grade, so I trust you take this seriously. However, lunch is about to start, so start packing your things and dicuss it over the lunch period." The teacher says.

Y/n gives a firm nod with no further curiosity or protest. "Yes sir," she says. She then start grabbing her things and so do the rest of the students. Once she grabs her things she's able to look at the tall blonde beside her.

"Hello, I'm Y/n Todoroki, but Y/n is fine." Y/n says with a straight face as she pulls out her hand to shake while realization hits Bakugo but he regains composure.

"Tch, whatever just because you're some child nepo prodigy like you're brother, doesn't mean I'm impressed." He says as he grips his backpack straps avoiding the hand Y/n displayed.

Y/n drops her hand finding a new offense to his comment. "I'm not my brother, and by no means my father. A powerful quirk is one thing but I have been making gadgets since I was 6. Support course student's only have one entrance exam not by recommendation. I got here on my own talent. Not by my name."

"You don't want my help then fine, but you won't find someone to listen to your hot headed remarks and can actually do your support gear justice." Y/n says sternly as she begins walking away from the boy.

The boy grits his teeth before shouting.

"Dammit wait! You're teacher won't fix my shit and I don't know how soon I need my gear. If you're any good I need this done and perfected ASAP. If you're so talented then prove it." He grumbles in defeat but he's desperate to get them fix, having the company UA hire would take too long.

Y/n turns around and smirks at the boy victoriously. A completely one eighty personality comparison to your twin brother.

"Well then is a pleasure starting business with you..?" Y/n says as she sticks out her hand again to test the boy's resilience.

"Katsuki Bakugo. Don't wear it out extra." He says as he reluctantly shakes the girl's hand.

(Part 2)

First Fic. I've had this idea/story for the longest time. My writings kinda crap to what my brain be thinking tho so sorry bout that 😭.