#but at least i can now work on my wips let me just get home safe and reunite with my cat first

[gojoest]

my little vacation is over but at least i have an entire week before i go back to work but i know how fast that week will go by and it stresses me out 🥲

[nanamiscocksleeve]

heyy ray! first things first, i LOVE your writing. that's all i have to say like i literally go nuts every time

sooo this is not a kinktober request and i know you probably have TOO many things to write lol butttt if it's in your taste i'd really like to see your take on the lads man reacting to their lady not wanting to have sex because she hasn't shaved while being away on a mission or something and is feeling insecure about that ig???

and! if i can ask to be the little moon emoji🌙 then i'd like to, please! as always thanks for all the stories you're aMAZING

Hi there! Yes you can be moon anon. Thank you for the kind words! It makes me happy that people are enjoying my work.

Soooo it's actually such a coincidence that you mentioned the body hair thing because I have a story wip for Zayne involving that particular area and hair 😆😆😆 Keep an eye for it btw!

As for the general reaction of the men, I genuinely think all of them are mature enough to handle a little hair and they're not bothered by it. This is how I think this would go.

Sylus: He'll look at reader quite suspiciously. He knows she's not on her period and after trying to get an answer from her, he'll stop when she tells him to quit asking. For a little while anyway. They have a shared home delivery app and when reader makes a purchase later that night he sees all the hair removal products and instantly makes the connection. He'll seek her out, tell her he doesn't care and that his kitten can't be a kitten if there's no hair on her pussy 🤭. When reader protests, he'll pull her close and tell her he missed her and if it really bothers her, she can get a bikini wax tomorrow. He'll even pay for it, but he's needy for her NOW and nothing in his view can change how beautiful she is, hair or no hair.

Xavier: Will assume she's on her period and brings over stuff for her like tea, chocolate, and some selfcare stuff like scented candles and face masks. Reader will be amused at Xavier's assumption and after a few shy moments, she'll tell him in a very vague way that she feels unkempt and that's why she doesn't want to have sex. Xavier thinks unkempt = hasn't bathed and asks if maybe she wants to take a quick shower together. At this point reader shakes her head and admits that she hasn't had time to self-groom down there because of her mission. Things finally click in Xavier's head and he'll ask if he can look and if he doesn't think it looks unkempt then they have should have sex. Of course Xavier gets pussy drunk the minute he sees it and they end up having sex.

Rafayel: This man will straight up pout if you tell him you don't want to have sex. And he'll try to guilt you as well. He'll say you must not love him anymore or that you're hiding a secret from him. Then finally in exasperation, reader will ask him if he wants to fuck a shag carpet because that's what it looks like down there. And of course Rafayel, with his sarcasm and playfullness will say something like "A shag rug for a pussy? I've never heard of such a thing I have to see it now!" And you'll have to show him before he throws another fishy tantrum. When he looks at it he'll sigh dramatically and say "It's not even close to a shag carpet, you exaggerate everything. Now that it's out in the open, let's just have sex."

Zayne: Without giving too much away from my fic...Zayne doesn't care. He's a doctor. He's seen his fair share of hair on body parts and isn't fazed. Also, the vibe I get from them seems to be more of a long-term couple and they've seen each other through their ups and downs so reader will straight up tell him she feels self-conscious about having sex because she hasn't shaved. Zayne will say he respects her decision but removing the hair can cause ingrowns and itching and he doesn't want her to do it incorrectly in order to have sex as soon as possible. He convinces her that they should have sex at least once before she removes it because there's no telling how she might feel after the exhaustion of removing all the hair. You can remove it on your own time but right now he wants you and let's face it, you've popped pimples off his back and he's seen you trimming your toenails, are you really going to let a little hair stop you from riding this man? 🤭🤭🤭

[delphi-shield]

SAY IT BACK ↪ letting them leave without an ily

finishing up some smaller things from my wip folder before i buckle down and work on the big stuff again. here's this doofy little fluff piece.

characters included: chris redfield, leon kennedy, jill valentine, ada wong

content: fluff. just fluff. established relationship. mildly ooc behavior for the sake of fluff (also known as being in a relationship and acting stupid)

You found it on TikTok - or maybe it was Instagram, or Facebook - doesn't matter. One of the media conglomerates had given you a horrible idea about how to tease your loving, devoted partner.

It's simple - when they said 'I love you' before they left for work, you just wouldn't say it back. What could go wrong?

Chris Redfield ↪

Did not notice. Secure. In his lane. Unbothered. Probably not moisturized. (Get him a nice oil, fragrance free. He'll like it more if you massage it into his muscles for him, spend a little extra time smoothing along the curve of his spine, up and over the tightness of his shoulders.)

If you're at the point with Chris where he's saying “I love you” in place of a goodbye, he doesn't need to hear you say it back. He's confident in your relationship. Hearing it is just a nice bonus.

You're going to get your own feelings hurt here. Sent yourself into a spiral. Like, damn, does he not listen? Does he not care? What the fuck is his deal?

Chris is legitimately confused when you bring it up to him later. Doesn't get the point of the whole thing. “Why wouldn't you just say you love me?” Head cocked to the side, so puppy-like you can practically see the velvety ears flopping over.

Really doesn't do the whole social media thing. Even when you show him videos as an example, he's just shrugging. "I'm pretty sure those are skits, honey. No one really reacts like that."

If only he knew. Hey - at least now you know that Chris is perfectly content in your relationship and won't let anything silly like this bother him. It's just a sign to ramp up the pranks - more practical jokes, less subtle, harmless emotional manipulation.

That's what you thought, at least, but when Chris flips the light off that night and sidles up behind you in bed, strong arms slipping around your middle and tugging you back to him, his voice rumbles in your ear - "You gonna tell me you love me, or is this gonna be a problem?"

And Chris is really good at extracting confessions. How badly do you actually want to get some sleep tonight?

Jill Valentine ↪

Doesn't seem to have noticed that you ignored her. Walked right out the door without missing a step, didn't even glance back. Her car pulls out of the garage, her sunglasses on - she seems entirely unbothered.

Oh, she’s bothered.

Jill Valentine is Not Petty™️. And she does not pout when her partner doesn't say ‘I love you’ back. She's in a pissy mood at work for a completely unrelated reason. She's not returning your texts because she's busy at work, not because she's trying (and failing) to give you a taste of your own medicine.

She definitely doesn't carry that storm cloud all the way home with her, doesn't rain on your parade when you cheerfully announce that dinner's ready and on the table.

You're trying everything you can think of to cheer her up. Asking about work got you a noncommittal shrug. You'd offered to draw a bath for her - or (preferably) for the both of you, but she'd dismissed the idea, talking about how it would take up too much time.

She didn't have the heart to shrug you off when you started massaging her shoulders. Despite your silence in the morning, you were clearly intent on taking care of her. Maybe nothing was wrong. Maybe you just hadn't heard her.

Her palm presses against your cheek, turns you to face her. She searches your eyes for a moment, her gaze unreadable. "Thanks for dinner. I love you."

Nothing. Fucking nothing. "You're welcome."

Jill knows that look on your face, that shit-eating grin that you're trying to cover up by glancing down, by pretending to be flustered. Her hands grip your hips. She manhandles you into her lap, chair scraping against the floor to make room for the both of you.

"Okay - spill. What's up with you?"

Once you explain, she's not mad about the whole thing, not really. But you can't help but notice that she's been withholding kisses lately, and-- wait.

Fuck. Now she's turned the tables on you.

Leon Kennedy ↪

Keeps finding new and inventive ways to double back inside the house. He's not going to outright ask you what's up - that would make him look desperate, which he’s totally not. He’s definitely not concerned at all that you didn’t complete your morning ritual and send him out the door with an ‘I love you’. He’s a big boy - this isn’t high school, this is his very mature, very adult relationship.

Excuse number one: “Sorry, forgot my keys,” as he makes a show of dropping his keys out of his pocket, onto the living room floor. His eyes are on you when he reaches to grab them. Leon tosses them in his hand, making as much noise as he possibly can. “All right, love you.”

You hold strong. Still no ‘love you’ back. He’s gone for all of 60 seconds when he comes back with excuse number two: “Ah, damn, forgot my badge. I’d lose my head if it wasn’t attached.”

His badge is attached to his belt. You can literally see it. When you point that out to him, he makes a show of being relieved, goes so far as to press a kiss to your temple, and says, “God, what would I do without you? Love ya. Have a good day.”

But you hold strong. Until excuse number three:

“Babe, have you seen my gun?”

You laugh, which only makes him laugh - and then he hits you with ‘no, seriously’ while he leans against the doorway, hip cocked. He’s got you figured out by now, knows that if he can make you laugh then you’re not doing this because you’re mad at him or anything. He can't even be mad when you explain it to him. He can only warn you:

"I'm gonna get you for this. Now, c'mon - say it."

Ada Wong ↪

I don't know why you would do this to her to be honest. She just said ‘I love you’. You should be marking your calendar and turning this into a holiday.

She doesn't say it often, at least not while you're conscious. Whether she presses her sentiments into your hair while you sleep against her, drooling against her collar bone, is up for debate. You have no hard evidence and she'll deny the allegations.

It simultaneously is and is not a big deal. She didn't say it because she craved the validation of having you repeat it to her. She said it because she meant it. There's so few concrete truths about herself that she can share with you, but that was one of them. Does it sting a little not to have it returned? Maybe.

She turns the moment over and over in her head, letting it haunt her. You had given her time, she thinks, why can't she give you yours? But your silence is a specter that tinges every moment. It creeps at the edges of every thought, it–

“Hey, you forgot your coffee.”

She turns to see you in the door of your apartment, hanging from the frame with one hand, her cup extended to her in the other. She clicks back to you in her stilettos, and your press a kiss to her cheek when she claims her drink. The guilt of it all ate at you before you could let her leave your sight. “Love you. Be safe.”

She'd spiraled before she even got down to the parking lot. Total loser in love.

[kakushino]

hello can i get a giyuu x reader angst , like where giyuu had an argument with the reader , but it turns out the reader is pregnant? you can add any other plot twist cus i love plot twists thank you !<3

Almost

Tomioka Giyuu x Fem! Reader

He had lost a lot of people in his life by his own making. He refused to lose you too.

Tags: pregnancy, arguments, blood mention, abortion mention (no actual abortion), hurt/comfort Word count: 2k

Masterlist

AN: Hope you enjoy it! I actually had a WIP of an argument + making up before, so I got to revisit it and add the pregnancy spice you asked for hehe~ Huge thanks to my dearest beta reader @glitchtricks94 for helping me clear it up (o゜▽゜)o☆ another huge thanks to @starrierknight for brainstorming with me

Giyuu’s injuries weren’t worse than normal, but that didn’t stop you from fretting over him – especially when he had a gash on his cheek, the same cheek you kissed a week ago when he was leaving for his mission. It made your chest feel tight to see his pretty face marred by demons. Your grandmother was surely rolling in her grave that such a classical beauty was hurt, the thought spurred you on to care for him.

No detail went unnoticed under your eye. He seemed tired, as usual, and a little stressed, as usual too - just a regular morning after slaying demons.

You sat him down at a western style dining table with a medical kit and supplies to clean the cuts with next to you. Your hands shook slightly when the damp cloth wiped away grime and blood, your lips pressed together when a fresh drop of blood oozed from the wound.

“You need to be more careful,” you murmured as you worked, the statement automatic, thoughtless.

Giyuu’s whole body stiffened. “Or what?”

You froze in place, your hand dipping the cloth in warm water. This was a new tone of his – a new way words could cut you if he wanted you to hurt: it was rough, serrated, mean. “What?”

He rolled his shoulders back a little, rearing for a fight. “You heard me the first time.”

You clenched your hand, leaving the rag in the water, and turned to fully face him. “Why are you so defensive? I meant no harm,” you replied, trying to calm the storm before it fully set in.

He stood abruptly, nearly knocking the chair he had sat in over. The look he shot you sent your heart galloping in your chest, from fear or indignation, you didn’t know. “You’ve done enough. Leave me be.”

Did he like you like this? Was the hurt in your eyes enough? That was – did he like the way it glinted, the way it caught the light? Hours upon hours spent on making your suffering pretty, and perhaps now it would pay off. He could cut you down into something pretty if he wanted to, and maybe you would let him.

Before he could walk away, before he could twist the rusty blade, you rose from your seat, “I have done nothing to warrant this tone with me, Tomioka Giyuu. Now tell me-“

"Stop bothering me," he cut you off, heading towards the door.

A violent whirlpool of emotion threatened to drown you, and for once, you let go. “You- you oaf! I can’t stand you being like this! What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong. Everything is perfect,” he snapped, voice like a viper and words just as stinging. “Or at least it would be if I didn’t have you nagging me every time. I’ve been through this enough to know what to do with myself. Unlike you who sits here all pretty and safe and fat, ready to wrap a bandage and call it a day.”

You flinched, for the first time in your husband’s presence, tears springing from your eyes, which you rapidly blinked away. What have I ever done to deserve this? You had waited on your hands and knees for this man every time he’d come home battered and bruised and broken and put him back together, without complaining, with love. This was what you got in return for your devotion? Pretty and useless. That’s what he basically called you.

Your throat tightened. You hardly had the energy to respond so you turned away and just… left. You couldn’t continue listening to Giyuu when he sounded so much like… like Shinazugawa. Whatever was bothering him best be left alone to cool off before you could talk about it.

You nodded to yourself as you packed an overnight bag. Some time apart would be good for you both. You knew he wouldn’t be sent out on a mission for a few days again, since he just returned from a longer stint, so you would come back tomorrow and try to resolve it then.

It was time for a check-up with a midwife anyway.

He had really said all that.

And you left.

Your eyes filled with tears, and you left, as you should. He had treated you like garbage.

There was no going back, no taking back his idiocy, no swallowing back his words.

‘Let's stop fighting’ was at the tip of his tongue. ‘Come here and let me hug you’ nearly spilled from his lips. ‘I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry’ choked him up as you walked away.

He knew you were right. You did nothing wrong.

He felt nothing.

He was worth nothing.

Giyuu picked up the shards of his heart up and finished cleaning up his wounds. A short bath later, he walked into the kitchen to find food already made for him, now long gone cold. It just reminded him how much he butchered his relationship by what – stress and tiredness? A demon taunting him right before its death? If so little shook him up, did he even deserve to be with you?

A sharp pain pierced his heart at the thought of leaving you. His selfishness truly knew no bounds, hurting you and putting you in danger for being a Hashira’s partner yet wanting you to remain by his side.

After eating his portion, he made tea and waited to see if you would join him. There was no movement in the house at all; were you in your shared bedroom, laying in bed as you were used to when upset? He would give you time to cool off, give himself time to breathe, and then he would approach you with a clearer head. He needed to apologize.

One hour. Two hours.

Had he angered you so much that you wouldn’t come out? Your spats had never lasted this long.

The tea had long grown cold, but Giyuu couldn’t bring himself to make more. There were no sounds coming from the house.

Were you even here?

The thought jolted him from his seat, quickly walking to your shared bedroom.

“Love?”

Nothing.

“I’m coming in.”

He somehow expected it, though he’d hoped against it. You weren’t there.

Already turning to check all other rooms, he called out your name. His pace was brisk, his throat starting to clog up with a familiar emotion. Claws of anxiety sunk into his stomach, his heart beat like a drum, his lungs struggled to take in air. You weren’t there.

Where were you?

He ran through the whole estate and back two times but came up with no clue as to where you were. Panic mounted, crawling up his spine like a spider he couldn’t shake away.

Giyuu slammed the gate of his home open, very nearly running into his elderly neighbour.

She was hardly phased, though confused by his frazzled visage. “Tomioka-san? What’s got you in such a hurry, young boy?”

“Have you seen my wife?!” he’d never been as rude as he was now, but you were gone so what was he supposed to do?

“Your wife? Oh, that’s right, I saw her. If I recall, she was on her visit… hmm, who was she going to visit?” his neighbour mused. Giyuu waited with all the patience Urokodaki beat into him, that was – quite impatiently. “Oh right! A midwife! I was very surprised when-“

He stopped listening, or rather, he stopped hearing anything going on around him. A midwife? A midwife was a profession with a very specific set of skills for a very specific group of people… Did that mean-?

“Isotani-san,” Giyuu interrupted, breathless, eyes wide with surprise. “Are you saying my wife is pregnant?”

She squinted at him, “You didn’t know?”

It felt as if lightning came from clear skies and struck him. Every nerve itched with some kind of energy telling him to move.

He later vaguely remembered asking his neighbour for the direction you left in, but at the time, he saw nothing, and felt everything all at once.

Were you going to… terminate it? Were you going to tell the midwife, and would she terminate it? Was the midwife going to terminate it and help you move on? Would you move on without him?

Thoughts racing, heart galloping, Giyuu felt feverish. He stumbled back, deaf to his neighbour’s concerned questions as he turned the way you had left just hours ago. One foot in front of the other, a step by step, getting faster with each meter he passed until he was running nearly as fast as Uzui, desperation spurring him on.

Kanzaburo flew overhead, and when he cleared the village bounds, he called out to get the crow to lead him to you.

Time was of the essence. He may have botched his life, but he was too selfish to let go of you. He wanted, no- needed to get you back. You were his love, his soul, his home. He wouldn’t be able to go on if you left.

He felt crazed, desperate, as he ran.

Giyuu would have been faster had he not have to follow Kanzaburo but he wouldn’t be able to find you alone. He felt as if he was racing against the time. Any minute now, you would be in a the midwife’s home, waiting for the release from his clutches; any second now, you would sever the only tactile link you had to him – your baby.

His baby.

He swore, his mind supplementing him with your argument. It had been all his fault, he’d just lashed out because of nothing, like a toddler throwing a tantrum. How childish he’d been – and he was supposed to be a father? No, he wanted to be a father. He’d fix himself and he’d support you and he’d even carry you your whole pregnancy, so you didn’t have to walk. He’d learn to cook more than the basics to feed you and your baby.

Please, let me be in time.

Then he saw you.

The whole world seemingly froze, grey and empty save for you.

You were a pearl amongst rocks, still as beautiful as the first day he saw you, as beautiful as you were on your wedding day.

Giyuu didn’t stop, even as you turned to him in surprise when he called your name. He didn’t stop until he had you in a soul-crushing hug, tight and near bruising – one he immediately eased up on, since he didn’t want to hurt you.

“Calm down, Giyuu! What’s going on?”

“D-don’t-“ he stumbled over his words, still frantic and breathing heavily, “don’t get rid of it!”

You were confused, “Get rid of what?”

His hands were heavy clutching onto your clothes, his frame nearly hanging onto you. “Our – our child,” he gasped out. “Isotani-san told me you were- she told me you were pregnant.” His words came out in a rush, eyes wide as he stared at you, his pupils darted all over your face for a sign of – of anything, be it forgiveness, anger, sadness, anything.

Looking at him in such a state, near quivering in his spot, you felt powerful. Giyuu was at your mercy for once. You could topple him as easily as a sandcastle, crush him under your boot and grind down to juice him of all that made him who he was. It made you realize you held just as much power over him as he did over you. Oddly, you felt reassured - of his love, of your love, of the relationship. 

Heart hammering in your chest, cheeks filling with warmth, the adoration you carried in your heart spilled over and pooled in your stomach. You hungered for more of this power, positively starved to sink your teeth into him and drain him.

But that could wait.

“I am indeed pregnant,” you confirmed, your hands resting on his arms, thumbs stroking soothing lines over his muscles. You paused, letting the seconds painfully stretch out, “I’m not terminating the pregnancy.”

His whole being sagged with relief. Giyuu fell to his knees in slow motion, his hands sliding down your yukata to rest over your hips, now clutching the fabric there with a weak grip. “Thank gods…” he rasped out, his breathing stuttered as if holding back sobs. “Please, love, let’s not- I apologize – I apologize for everything. I shouldn’t have lashed out. I was wrong…”

His impossibly blue eyes met yours, the surface glistening with unshed tears, his guilt bitter but his plea tasting sweet on your tongue. Saliva gathered in your mouth, wanting more.

Did that make you a bad person?

“You dismissed my concern,” you stated, fighting back any expression wanting to take over your face. “You said I nag you. You called me useless.” And pretty, your mind supplied. He’d also called you fat, so there was that. “I didn’t deserve that.”

Giyuu’s lips were downturned, “You didn’t. I was an oaf.” His admission did nothing to soothe the ache he’d given you. “I’m willing to take whatever punishment you deem worthy of my misdeeds.” He let go of your yukata, smoothing over the wrinkles he made. He didn’t know what to do with himself, trying not to fidget as you rolled his actions and words in your mind.

“There will be no punishment,” you told him. If possible, he became even more tense, the need for absolution great. Perhaps no punishment would be a punishment of itself. “But don’t think you’re entirely forgiven. I accept your apology; you however have to make up for it your own way.” You studied his earnest expression, brows slightly furrowed as he started thinking about ways to win you back. It shouldn’t be too hard. He did it once, he could do it again.

Giyuu slowly stood up, taking your hands in his. “I won’t disappoint you, love,” he said resolutely, kissing your fingertips softly. He adored you, with his whole heart, mind and body.

Everything would work out – just like the ice always melts and clouds disperse, a typhoon passes and the sea calms.

“If you pull this act again, I’m leaving.” You glared at him for a second to get your point across. Giyuu nodded and pulled you in for a sweet kiss.

He almost lost you and he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

Thanks for reading! Reblog or comment if you liked it :3

Networks: @enchantedforest-network @themovingcastlez

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn't go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: get ready for the hate.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The tunnel lights up ahead of you, revealing the cubic rock walls as you plant torches in your stead. The eerie soundtrack of night time and the ominous groan of zombies looming somewhere in the cave have you uptight. Silently, you press on, digging and mining mindlessly, fingers mashing the buttons on your controller. 

“Hey, where are you?” Jacob’s voice startles you. 

You nearly forgot you’re playing co-op. You sniff and shake your head, cursing aloud as your shock has you succumbing to the arrow of a sneaky skeleton. You sigh as your possessions scatter and you spawn back in your bed. 

“Back home,” you say glumly, “just ate it.” 

“Ah, damn,” his deep voice rolls in your noise-cancelling headset, “sorry, hope that wasn’t me.” 

“No, I wasn’t paying attention,” you hum and sigh.  

“Ah,” he accepts and lets silence linger before he clicks his tongue, “what’s going on? Everything alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you put the controller down, your avatar sitting on the geometric bed, “I just...” you stretch your neck and massage your scalp around the thick band of the headset, “got a lot on my mind.” 

“Right. I thought you were all done exams,” he says. 

“I am, but... packing. Going home. I called my old boss and turns out I’m not gonna have a job this summer. Gotta start over,” you yawn and rub your eyes, “what about you? Final exam tomorrow?” 

“Uh... yeah,” he hesitates as if he forgot. You do wonder why he isn’t cramming right now. You could never play minecraft all night the day before a final. “Easy stuff. I’m not worried.” 

You scoff. You wish you could say the same. All you’ve done is worry those last two weeks. Exams, getting home, getting a job. Your grandmother won’t very happy to find out you’ll be slumming it for a while. At least you tucked away some money through the semester. 

“Hey, if you need a few bucks...” Jacob offers. 

“What? Are you crazy? No way,” you exclaim, “really, no, I couldn’t. I’ll be fine. I just... I hate looking for jobs. You know how it is. Friggin awkward.” 

“It’s not a big deal. My dad sent me my birthday money so...” 

“Uh uh,” you deny him again, “that’s way too much. I couldn’t-- we haven’t even met.” 

“Mm, yeah, about that,” he exhales into his microphone, “I, uh, got an extra ticket to this Con. I figured out that’s it like the midway point between us so...” 

“A con? Oh, wow--” 

“Yeah, but I get that it would be expensive so maybe I could pay for your trip?” 

“Jacob,” you wiggle the controller restlessly, “I can't accept that. It’s so nice but... it’s a lot.” 

“I wouldn’t offer it was too much,” his voice is soft, meek, and defeated. You feel bad but you would feel worse taking advantage of his kindness. “We’ve been talking all year. I just figured it would be a good chance to meet up. It would be in public and something we both like so...” 

You scratch your neck as it speckles with heat. You don’t know what’s more insulting; yes or no. 

“Can I think about it?” You ask thinly. 

The line is quiet. You look at the screen and it goes dim from your idling. You hit the analog stick and fix your headphones. 

“Jacob?” You murmur. 

“Sure, think about it,” he says, his voice raspy and rocky. It’s strange. You’ve seen him in pictures and his voice doesn’t really match his appearance. He sounds a lot older than he looks. “It’s next month so lots of time.” 

“I’m sorry,” you cringe. “I just wouldn’t want to waste your money.” 

“Trust me, it wouldn’t be a waste,” he insists, “this last year has sucked. So much. You got me through it all.” His microphone scuffs, “studying, exams, all that stuff. It’s tough making new friends. Seems like everyone here knows each other from high school.” 

“Yeah, totally,” you agree.  

You’re not exactly the most popular person. You have people you know in each class but not too many friends you hang out with outside the lecture hall or library. So far, not too many people want to spend hours mining digital gold or racing cartoon characters around a rainbow track. 

“Well, you should probably get some sleep,” you yawn, “you got your big exam and... I gotta keep packing. Gotta catch the greyhound tomorrow night.” 

“Sure, uh, yeah, right,” his disappointment is potent, “hey, will you text me when you get home? Just so I know you made it.” He snorts, “god, I sound like my dad right now.” 

“Oh, of course,” you chirp back, “I’ll try to remember. Might be late.” 

“That’s fine. Just as long as you let me know.” 

“Don’t worry about me,” you assure him, “not ‘til I have to face my grandma. Ha.” 

“Yeah, good luck with that,” he says, “well... er...” 

“Good night,” you finish for him, “let me know how the exam goes too.” 

“Will do,” his timbre gets even lower, “night.” 

You sign off and shut down the console. Another yawn flows through you and waters in your eyes. You should sleep, you got a long day waiting for you, but you know it won’t be easy. Not with so much on your mind, not least of all, Jacob’s invitation. 

🎮

You text Jacob as you get on the bus, to make sure he doesn’t worry. It’s so sweet that he does, even some of your girlfriends don’t bother that much. Not that you mind the ‘hey, bitch’ Janet sends you every now and again to make sure you’re still alive. 

You fall asleep on the bus. You’ve never been one to sleep while travelling but you’re exhausted from a night of anxious tossing and turning. After spending all day packing up the last of your things and scouring your dorm room, you’re beat to hell. 

It’s midnight as you get to your grandmother’s house. She’s up reading another Stephen King classic in her rocking chair. She’s always been a night owl and a voracious book hound. She grumbles at you but doesn’t bother to ask how your trip was. 

“Hey, grandma,” you hike up your bag and smile.  

She growls again, eyes not leaving the page. You should know better by now not to interrupt her. You shoulder on and head down to the spare room where you spent most of your high-school career. You shut the door gently as the old hardwood floors creak with your weight and you drop your bag on the squeaky bed. 

You fish out your phone and plug it in as the battery flashes red with only two percent left. You leave it on the night table and stretch out, not bothering to change out of your hoodie and jeans. It’s not long before you descend back into the same dreams that marked your journey home. 

You wake up to buzzing. Your phone shakes the nightstand, rattling it against the bed frame. You groan and roll onto your side, reaching blindly for offending object. You hit the side button to dismiss the call.  

You blink away the bleariness and focus on the screen. Along with the missed call are several text messages. You squint as you expand the notifications. Jacob! You forgot to message. 

‘Hey, you home?’ 

‘Checking in. Must be busy getting settled in. Just let me know when you’re safe.’ 

‘Not meaning to be weird but everything okay?’ 

‘Please answer me. I’m worried.’ 

You drag your thumb around the keyboard, letting it predict your words; ‘sorry! I was so tired. Home now and safe 😊' 

Three dots pop up then swoop away. You frown as the same thing happens several times before a response appears. 

‘Was really worried. Thanks for finally answering. Been up all night.’ 

You’re stunned by the terse response. Yeah, you forgot to answer but he doesn’t need to worry that much. You frown and shift onto your side. 

‘Srry again. Tired. Talk in morning. Night.’ 

You turn your phone on silent and plug it back into the cord. You do feel bad but you’re too exhausted to let it keep you up. Besides, you need your sleep. You have lots of job hunting to do in the morning. Not to mention, your grandmother to face. 

🎮

You let Jacob cool down after your return home. Rather, he doesn’t text and you’re too distracted to do the same. As much as you’d like to sit around and game, your grandmother was as disappointed as you expected with your employment status, even when you gave her the money you had left in your emergency fund. 

After a week, you finally get a bite. It’s nothing special. There’s a seasonal ice cream shop in a booth shaped like a vanilla cone that needs a cashier on weeknights. It’s less than full time hours but it’s better than nothing. It will be strange working with high school juniors but you can’t afford to be picky. 

‘Game tonight?’ The text interrupts your first shift. You don’t have a chance to answer as a family approaches the window to order. 

You get them the soft serve and take their payment, bidding them a good evening with their vanilla points already drooping in the summer heat. You glance around at the mostly empty picnic tables. Soccer practice will end soon and you’ll be overloaded with eight-year-olds. 

‘Srry. New job. 1st shift. Maybe tmrw.’ 

‘New job? Congrats. Why didn’t you tell me?’ 

You sigh.  

‘Time got ahead of me.’ 

‘Same. Catch up tomorrow then. Minecraft?’ 

‘Sure. Tmrw.’ 

You slip your phone away. A mother and daughter approach and ask for a sundae and a banana split. As much as you love ice cream, working with it hasn’t tested your cravings very much. In fact, you might be falling out of love with it. The smell of vanilla and overly sweetened strawberries is kind of gross when it’s all you breathe. 

As you watch the happy customers walk away, you smile. Maybe it will be good to get some mining done. It will take your mind off of everything else. Hell, it might even make you feel like you’re doing something useful. 

🎮

“Shit, oh, sorry,” Jacob corrects himself. You always think it's kind of funny how he doesn’t like to swear. “My diamond armor.” 

“Oh no,” you utter, “where are you? I’ll grab your stuff.” 

He gives his coordinates and you turn around, leaping over the green blocks to make your way there. Despite your reticence at the beginning, you’re feeling better about the session. He wasn’t as tense as he seemed in his texts. 

“So, uh, did you think about the con?” Jacob asks. 

“The con? I almost forgot. When is it?” 

He gives the dates and you hum. Your chest flutters at the thought still. You’re not stupid. Meeting people IRL is not like online, no matter how many hours you’ve mined together. As much as you enjoy chatting with Jacob, you don’t know about meeting up. 

“I get it if you can’t get the time off but my offer still stands to cover the trip. If you wanna stay the night, I’ll even get an airBnB.” 

“Oh, wow, that’s a lot. I’m working now. I could put in,” you offer.  

“Is that a yes?” He asks hopefully. 

“I don’t know... I mean, I’ll have to look into it,” you say evasively. “Talk to my boss and grandma and all that.” 

“Right, right,” he tries to sound unbothered, “makes sense. Of course, no pressure. How about I send you the ticket either way? Haven’t got anyone else to bite.” 

“Oh, well, hold off, I wouldn’t want to take it and not use it,” you collect his weapons and armor from the ground in the game. 

It’s silent as you focus on getting every little thing. 

“Sorry, did I freak you out?” He asks, “I’m really not trying to pressure you, just got excited thinking about it.” 

“I know, Jacob, it’s not that, it’s just... a lot.” 

“Totally get it,” he intones, “let me know whenever you got an answer. Uh, where are you? I’m tryna find you.” 

“Just stay there, I'll come back to the house,” you assure him, happy to focus on the game instead. 

Still, you can’t entirely lose yourself in it. You’re sure he’s a nice guy. From pictures, he’s less than scary, and he’s never been anything but friendly. It’s not like the other dudes you meet online who jump to asking about your bra size and all that. It just isn’t smart. 

Well, maybe if you don’t show up alone. You know what con he’s talking about and Kara from Econ lives near there. You could probably convince her to meet up. Hm, that might work. 

Just like you told him, you’ll have to think about it. 

[90sbee]

Dying is not an option (when you're by my side)

Leon S. Kennedy x Gn!reader

1k words. Also on a03

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying.

When his mind seems to get too clouded by the visions of monsters, you pull him out of the depths of his trauma. He does his best to love you. He tries.

Or the fic in which you make Leon repeat comforting phrases so it finally gets in his head that he is loved.

Just a very soft idea that wouldn't leave my head and that's been too long in the wip folder. The warnings make it seem worse than it is, but happy ending I promise!!! Had re4r in mind for this one but can be read with other older versions of him. (Though the older the Leon, the angstier it gets lmao)

Content: No use of y/n, very very soft love, hurt/comfort, some angst, established relationship, living together, sitting on his lap, a tiny bit of possessive Leon (yay!)

Warnings: +18 ONLY. No smut but some suggestive lines. Mentions of blood, suicide, guns and overall (some brief) gore. Leon's mental struggles (depression, anxiety). I'm not a native English speaker but I (lazily) proofread and edited this one.

You lean forward, just a little closer to his body. Leon groans, his face unreadable still.

“Don’t want to,” he muses, kind of annoyed at your proposal.

“Just trust me.”

He reluctantly nods, as you get comfortable on his lap. His firm thighs under you, the warmest and comfiest seat you could ever ask for.

You worry about him, worry so much.

You know now: know what he does, what he works as. At first it was hard to believe it, the stories about human turned monsters, about creatures that linger between heaven and hell. But you had to believe him, you were forced to the first time Leon crumbled down in your arms, sobbing the entirety of the night, the immensity of his body reduced to shivering and tears.

“I love you,” you had told him that time. “I’m not letting you go. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You whisper the same things again now, your voice reverberating close to his ear. Leon eases the grip on your hips, replaces it with a soft touch. He tries to calm down, closes his eyes for a moment too long.

“You love me,” he seems to ask, as if trying to convince himself of it, as if trying to find himself worthy of such a feeling from someone like you.

“I do,” you confirm, cupping his cheeks.

He nods, though his heart is thumping in his chest still. Your hands move to his shoulders, then to his arms, caressing the skin with soft strokes.

“I love you… Look at me.”

He obliges, eyes like the ocean, marked by the heavy and dark eyebags.

It breaks your heart to see him like this. Your lip trembles as you lean closer, shortening the distance.

It is entirely possible —as you’re so much aware of— that one day you’ll come home to an unlocked gun and his body in the bathtub. Or maybe it would be the rifle, the carpet stained with blood and pieces of what used to be his jaw.

A jaw that you love so much, that you kiss now.

Leon sighs, seems content with such affection, his hands getting lost down your thighs.

“Listen to me. You’re gonna repeat as I say, okay?” an attempt to get him out of his head, to remind him of who he is.

“ …‘Kay,” he mumbles, seemingly distracted.

“I’m… good.”

He scrunches his nose, pinkish lips downturned. Naturally, he doesn’t dare to say those words. He doesn’t want to trick his brain.

“C’mon,” you egg him, patting his shoulder gently.

The action seems to at least make his lips curve slightly.

“I’m good,” he whispers, his voice insecure.

He tries. You can see how hard he does it: coming home as much possible, the dirty laundry now clean and with a soft cinnamon scent. A sunflower in the kitchen vase next to the window, the coffee mug always clean even when you leave it in the sink, ready to be washed in the morning.

“I’m a good partner,” you resume, reminiscing.

That does stops him in his tracks, a gentle blush rooting on his cheeks, the smile more pronounced now. Leon presses his face against your neck.

“… Do I really have to say it?”

“Yep.”

He breathes on your neck, as if trying to take in a bit of your kindness, a bit of your peace. He closes his eyes, tries to control his breathing. But his hands grip your hips harder.

He fucking loves you.

Leon is not sure he deserves this yet, the warm body on the bed, the pretty smile that kisses him goodbye, lets him go away even in the middle of the night.

“I love you,” he backtracks, pressing a kiss on your neck.

You chuckle, and allow him that admission.

“Very cute but that’s not what you had to repeat.”

Leon raises his eyebrows, feigning annoyance. He keeps his fingers on your hips, dancing on your skin, drawing patterns as he keeps you close. He wishes he could sign his name there, mark you forever so you’d never get too far away from him… So he’d always have a right to come back to you.

“But I love you…” he pouts.

You grab his face with utmost care, force his cheeks to look upwards at your face.

“I love you too. Lots.”

You kiss his forehead. His body melts under that touch.

“ ‘m a good partner” he mumbles, quickly.

“My baby loves me.”

Now Leon chuckles.

“My baby loves me,” he hides again on your neck, his smile etched constantly on his face now. You hug him closer, kiss his forehead once more, as if sheltering a lost angel in your arms.

“I’ll always have a home.”

Oh, that one seems to break him a little. Leon immediately whines, his hands gripping your body with ferocity against his. He can’t say… He shouldn’t. He… he can’t and…

His heart starts beating faster and he gulps.

“You can do it…” you encourage him and he wants to try. He knows, deep inside, that is true and that he is now safe. It takes him several minutes until his anxiety dissipates and he can look up at you, your eyes encapsulating warmth that he had never experienced with anyone else.

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying. It is seen not only in how much he makes time for you, but also in the way he follows along with your little silly ideas, suggestions to try to build himself up again.

And though he wouldn’t directly admit it, since you two are together he has promised himself to fight his hardest in every mission. He spits his own blood, wipes off the exhaustion from his face and keeps pushing forward. Because, he’ll be damned, he wants to see you once more. And once more. And again and again… And when he comes home, to you, Leon immediately checks —for the tenth time— the safety on each gun and leaves them in locked boxes, his fingers slowly forgetting what it’s like to toy with weapons in the sanctuary that you’ve built for the two of you. The cold of the metal is now replaced by the warmth between your thighs, the flesh on your hips, the softness of your hands.

Hell, he is definitely trying.

And it’s fucking working.

God to be on his lap honestly!!! A dream. And if you've made it to the end, thank you!! Mwah, sweet soul 💙

[amaranthineghost]

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🥥 ꒱ LANDO NORRIS ☆ MASTERLIST

SERIES—

TWO WHEEL DRIVE—MASTERLIST

SPOTLIGHT—MASTERLIST (WIP)

IMAGINES—

HOME IS WHERE HE IS—FLUFF

you don't want him to go (first person)

SINK YOUR TEETH INTO ME, MY DEAR—FLUFF, ANGST

her love language is biting, but experiences a feeling of insecurity (third person)

EVERY GODDAMN INCH OF YOUR SKIN IS MINE—SMUT, ANGST

he can't stand her, but he can't keep his eyes off her (third person)

DARLING, THE BED IS COLDER WITHOUT YOU—FLUFF, ANGST

she feels lonely without the company of lando (third person)

OUR WORLD IN YOUR HANDS—FLUFF, ANGST

they hadn't planned for pregnancy, but it changed their life (third person)

I CANT HELP BUT PUSH YOU AWAY, MY DEAR. SELF SABOTAGE IS ALL I KNOW—ANGST, FLUFF

feeling loved is foreign to her, she wants to self sabotage, but he won't let her (third person)

DARLING, OUR STARS ARE DYING, BUT WE'VE STILL GOT YEARS TO BURN—ANGST

their relationship is dying while their love burns strong, yet they're unsure if they can save themselves (third person)

I CAN'T NOT HAVE YOU. I'LL TRAVEL THE SOLAR SYSTEM TO MEND OUR STARS—ANGST, SMUT

they hadn't seen each other in months after their breakup, which left them in more misery than they thought. because now they'll do anything to make it work (third person)

MATCHING PAJAMA PANTS AND LATE NIGHTS—FLUFF

how lando spends the holiday season with his girlfriend (third person)

HE'S TOUCHING MY BODY LIKE MY SKIN IS STICKY, HE'S GLUED TO ME—SMUT, ANGST

lando and his girlfriend try special chocolate and make it a competition to see who will lose first, and he's struggling to resist the urge to touch her (third person)

CRAWLIN' BACK TO YOU—SMUT, ANGST

their love is toxic, but they keep coming back even when they know they shouldn’t (third person)

BUT I LOVE SO YOU (PLEASE LET ME GO)—ANGST

he loved her, but knew he had to let her go even if it killed him inside. still he left a paper trail back to him (third person)

I'LL LET YOU GO IF THAT'S WHAT YOU WANT—ANGST

a little over half a year later when the season ended, they haven't found their way back. At least not on purpose, but the universe knows better than them (third person)

OOPS?—FLUFF, ANGST, SMUT

to commemorate the sight in front of him, he snaps a picture on his phone without realizing he's just posted it for millions to see (third person).

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS COMPLICATIONS—FLUFF, ANGST, SMUT

after lando and margarida were seen in public together, she isn't sure that her feelings were reciprocated by the brit. despite having been friends with benefits for months, swearing they wouldn't develop feelings, they seemed to have failed (third person).

IN THE TUMBLEWEEDS—FLUFF

your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. just when you begin to lose hope, a big truck pulls up in front of you and out hops two country boys to help you get your car up and running again (second person).

MOODBOARDS

LIVING WITH COWBOY!LANDO

[kaelie-quill]

Writeblr Intro

This feels super awkward to do but I'm putting myself out there for better or worse, so! I go by Kaelie on here, I am 22, Queer, and go by she/her pronouns. I've been on writeblr on and off since I was maybe fifteen but haven't touched it in four years. I am now 22 and for most of those four years I have been plagued by my current WIP, currently called Project Genesis. I've only just recently forced myself to really sit and try to get it out of my head.

I'm kind of ashamed to admit that the only book I ever finished was a warrior cats fan fiction I wrote when I was twelve (It was like forty chapters, I wrote it by hand in a notebook and I let someone take it home and read it one time and it haunts me) Everything since then has either been abandoned and never even made it out of the planning stage.

For the last four years I've been super stressed and in a super bad mental state and had no time to truly sit and try to write anything and if I did I thought it was absolute trash and it kinda made me hate writing. I even stopped reading despite being obsessed with books from the moment I could read, but in the last year and a half I have rediscovered my love for reading and now I want to try writing again.

Project Genesis is meant to be a multi-book high fantasy series with horror elements (maybe, I've not read many horror books and have little experience writing it. Any tips on writing horror, or good horror books to read would be much appreciated) It's got alternating POVs, basically everybody is queer, lots of religious imagery (maybe only if you squint, but I swear sometimes I feel like I'm just ripping off the Bible)

Despite existing for almost for almost four years its hard to describe what it's actually about? The first book at least is a dual POV about one character denying and running from their destiny to avoid becoming a sacrificial lamb, and another character trying to carve out a destiny for himself when he's not meant to have one (not in a 'he's supposed to be dead' way but in a 'you're life isn't supposed to have any affect on the world' kinda way)

It is currently in early planning stages, I'm working on a zero draft and outline before really hunkering down to try a first draft. I don't know how this is gonna go as far as like updates? I'm really just kinda using this as motivation, like if I talk about and say I'm doing it I can keep myself accountable and not just drift away from this like so many others. I expect it to all be horrible but so long as it's something I can go back and make it better. Thanks for reading! 👋🏻

[concreteburialplot]

Cruel

Pairing: Nicholas x F!Reader

Masterlist: here | Crossposted: ao3 | Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: Cocky Asshole!Nick, stereotypical cliché rockstar behavior, toxic af, petnames, fingering, oral (f receiving), p n v, cream pie, canon big fat co-, dramatic and cliché, ~making love~, happy ending, lightly edited, [you deserve better than men like this!!!], 18+ MDNI

Summary: Your long time on-again/off-again love finds you the second his tour bus reaches home. Even with your walls up, he charms his way into apartment and back into your heart.

A/N; Not my best work but this wip has been sitting in my drafts for over a year, finally decided to let it see the light of day. Enjoy 💕 Also… this almost became a Jake Kiszka fic…

“You paint a picture of us, just to burn it. Fool, I’m a fool if the shoe fits.”

- Cool // Gracie Abrams

The minute the GPS was set to home, there was a buzz on your phone that had been absent for the past two months. You unlocked it mindlessly, thinking nothing of it, but the second you read it your heart sunk to your stomach.

❌DO NOT ANSWER❌:

Gonna be back in town around midnight.

See you then?

Absolutely not. Why would you do that to yourself again. Yet, against your better judgement, you answered.

No.

You sent back simply, with your heart pounding in your ears.

He replied almost immediately. The speed of it made your heart flutter but you had to remind yourself that he was probably just bored on a tour bus. That you were probably just the easiest option after having an endless pick of groupies on the road.

Oh, c’mon don’t be like that

We could have fun

The thought of having him again sent a wavering behind your ribs that you quickly tried to squash down. You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth in thought. No, no, no – you repeated in your head like a mantra.

You: I don’t have fun with you.

Nick: It sure didn’t seem like that before I left

It was a half lie. While you did have fun together, he always came at a cost. He was never yours, not fully. Right before tour was always the worst.

While he was home everything felt different – domestic even at times, and each time you convinced yourself it’d be different, that that time would be the one to stick, that he would stay yours. But then weeks leading up to tour things would change, he’d grow distant, and fights would spawn out of nothing. In an instant, he wasn’t the man you were in love with. Love wasn’t a word you ever threw around in your label-less relationship, but it was felt, at least on your end. Regardless, sex was the one thing that always kept you two together – but it made you weak and pliable.

You: That’s not true and you know it

Nick: Just let me see you, we can talk about it

You mulled it over in your head. Your heart wanted nothing more than to see him again but that was exactly the reason you needed to resist. It was a war between your head and your heart and for once, your head was winning. You were sick of the rollercoaster of loving him, sick of getting your heart broken repeatedly. This tour was the biggest and longest they’d ever done, almost double their usual length, and the fallout with him before he left was the most damaging it’d ever been. The extra time apart allowed you to process the pain and assess the relationship. You’d been able to accept it for what it was and come to terms with the fact that you’d never have him the way you’ve always craved. While he was away, you grieved the crumbs of your situationship and chose yourself for once. Though, the pain that bloomed from that decision felt like a betrayal to your heart in the moment, but you knew it was for the better.

You know it’s for the better.

You: I don’t want to see you, Nicholas.

Nick: I wasn’t aware we were lying to each other now

Heat rose to your cheeks and your stomach churned in anger and pain as your brain flooded with infinite memories of him lying to you.

You: Oh, that’s fucking rich coming from you

Nick: Just let me see you

You: No. Why the fuck should I let you

Nick: I wanna talk Nick: I have something for you

You: I don’t want anything from you

Though, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious. Sometimes he’d bring you little nothings from his travels, but nothing notable or worthy of being a bargaining chip.

Nick: Just let me see you.

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, his persistence was wearing you down. It’s a horrible thing to be lovesick for a man who gives you just enough slices of dopamine to make you forget why you were mad or cautious in the first place. It was toxic and thrilling all at once. It was nothing but lies – both from him and yourself. Your heart was beginning to feed you false truths like: he could just come over, you’d call him on his bullshit and let him leave without him getting to you.

You gave into him, like you always did.

You: Fine. But you leave when I tell you to. Nick: No problem. See you in an hour.

You mentally scolded yourself, but you couldn’t help but feel the flurry of butterflies running rampant in your stomach.

After a while, you checked the time and noted that about an hour and a half had passed. Fear and disappointment trickled down your spine at the idea that he might not even show up after you gave into him like a fool. It made you sick to your stomach even though it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done that.

About 10 minutes later you heard a knock at the door and adrenaline spiked in your bloodstream. You took a look in your full-length mirror and smoothed out your silhouette. While you fed yourself the lie that nothing was going to happen, your hands chose a flowy sundress that laid mid-thigh.

When you opened your door, you were met with Nick in comfy clothes, clearly fresh from off the tour bus. As indifferent as you should’ve been, you couldn’t help but take notice of how good he looked with his hair up in a messy bun. Still, just the sight of him felt like a dagger through your already bleeding heart. It was a torturous duplicity being so in love with him, yet so heartbroken from just looking at him. All the work you did to suppress and heal your wounds crashed back down to square one. The second he spoke you knew you’d made a horrible mistake.

“Hey.” He smiled and you could tell he suppressed a smirk.

“Hey.” You replied flatly. Your resiliency was already begging to falter. You hadn’t heard his voice in months, and it stirred something in you – something both vicious and compelling. You came to realize that this was a dangerous game you chose to play.

His eyes fluttered down your frame, soaking in the vision of you completely. “You look,” He paused, and you expected something vulgar, but he surprised you. “Fantastic.”

A peachy hue grew on the tops of your cheeks at the compliment, and you silently reprimanded yourself for letting him get to you already.

He stepped closer to you, brushing your hair just behind your bare shoulder to admire you fully. “All this for me?”

And just like that, the flutter in your stomach fell along with the edges of your lips. Your eyes begged to roll at the question, but you restrained it to just a scowl.  “What are you doing here, Nick?”

“To see you silly.” He said nonchalantly while his crystal eyes held something more you couldn’t place – it was like a glint of something deeper than he was letting on. “Now let me in, won’t you?”

You sighed and stepped aside to let him past you. “You said you wanted to talk?” You pressed against the door to close it behind you. When it clicked into place you rested flat against it with your arms crossed.

His head tilted around the small space to take it in, even though it wasn’t drastically different, any remanence of him was gone. Then, he met your eyes again to answer your question. “That’s what we’re doing, isn’t it?”

You groaned, unraveling your arms to ball your fists at your sides. “You’re so fucking infuriating.”

So much for keeping your cool.

He huffed out a maddening laugh. “All worked up, are we? Must’ve been really frustrated while I was gone.”

“Actually, it’s been real fucking peaceful.” Your arms crossed back over your chest. “What do you want, Nicholas?”

“I wanted to see you.” He said earnestly, this time with less smugness to it. “And to give you this.” His arm went behind himself and into his back pocket only to pull out a palm-sized stuffed black cat. He held the sitting stuffie in his hand on display.

Your heart sunk the second your eyes landed on the stuffed toy. Both anger and heartache bubbled into your stomach, into your veins and all across your skin. Your shoulder muscles stiffened reflexively. “Why the fuck would you bring me that?”

The truth was that the cat contained more than just stuffing – it represented a past floating idea of a shared black cat between you. Whenever you two were at your best, you discussed adopting one together. You’d keep it at your place since he’s so often away from home, but it would be shared nonetheless. It never happened of course, but there he was holding a physical placeholder for it.

“I saw it and thought of you.” He said infuriatingly nonchalant, though you couldn’t tell if the ignorance was genuine or not.

You crossed the threshold between you and snatched the stuffie from his hand. You squeezed it by its sides in front of his face, “This is cruel, and you know it.”

While you were fuming, there was still a small pathetic part of you that swooned at the fact that he remembered such a small thing.

He reached out to graze up your jaw to your chin. “Even when you’re pissed at me you’re beautiful.”

You smacked his hand away from you, not wanting anything to do with him or his dizzying games. “You are such a fucking prick, and you know it. You know what this little toy means to me, and it means nothing to you.” You nearly spat at him while you shoved a finger into his sternum.

He grasped your wrist, keeping it in place as he stepped forward. “Who said it doesn’t?”

The air between you seemed to dissipate, leaving your throat barren of oxygen. Yet, your self respect held strong against his convincing words. “You’re a liar. A cruel liar.”

He closed the gap between you further until his lips were hovering just above your own. “I’m not lying.” Your nose filled with his scent – peppery cologne, weed and beer. It wasn’t the most pleasant mixture of smells, but it was him and he was something you’d missed and longed for the past two months. His smell and his proximity had your chest swirling with love and desperation. You wanted – no – you needed him to be telling the truth this time. It had to be the truth.

“I’m not lying.” He replied softly with his eyes falling from your own to your lips then meeting your gaze once more. “Let me show you how honest I’m being.”

It wasn’t your smartest move, giving into him so effortlessly. He just made it so easy to believe anything that came out of his pretty mouth. It wouldn’t be the first time you fell for his tricks and unfortunately, something told you it wouldn’t be the last.

When your lips met, it was electric, sparking and hot. You weren’t sure if that was just what he’d always felt like or if it had just been months since he touched you last.

It didn’t take long before his fingers frantically tangled in your hair. You matched his energy, curling fists into the base of his bun. He stumbled you both back onto your couch with your lips glued to each other’s. The kiss was full of fire and pent-up tension.

You ended up with both knees on either side of his hips. Your lips landed on the spiderweb tattoo on his neck, immediately sucking at the ink. He let out a hiss at the intensity of your suction. Your hips swiveled over the bulge growing in his pants.

“Fuck.” He groaned and tugged at the hem of your dress, silently asking you to pull it off.

You detached from his neck briefly and yanked the sundress off your body tossing it on the floor. Before you could return to your spot on his neck, he grabbed your face to meet his lips again. It was messy with teeth clashing and hasty tongues fighting for dominance.

Your hands fumbled between your bodies to unzip his jeans to let him out. You wondered how he was even able to stay in his pants with his massive size when he was hard. You took him in one hand while the other stabilized you on his shoulder. He groaned into the kiss as you worked him in your hand.

His fingers curled tightly into your hair, “I need to fucking be inside you.” He all but growled.

You nodded quick and breathless, you needed just the same. You tugged away and spit multiple times onto his impressive size. It had been months since you’ve had him, there’s no way this wasn’t going to hurt.

You lifted on your knees, as much as you could, Nick helped by pushing your panties to the side and sliding his fingers up and down your folds.

“You’re so fucking wet for me.” His fingers dipped inside you, just a fingertip deep to gather some of your juices and used it to better coat your entrance. He paused and his brows furrowed a bit. With how full you felt with just one finger you could only imagine what he was thinking. “You’re going to need more prep than this for me.”

You whined, but you knew he was right. It had been so long since you’d taken him, and your cunt needed time to refamiliarize itself with his size.

Your hand never halted on his length, and it was obvious on his twisted features and his mouth slightly parted. No matter how angry you were at him, it didn’t take away from how pretty he looked when he was drunk off of you.

He pumped his finger slowly in and out of you just to set a pace before adding another. A small gasp fell from your lips at the addition and stilled all of your movements.

“Just relax baby,” He soothed, and you softened in his hold. “That’s it, let me take care of you.”

It was a weighty thing to ask of you, but your mind turned to mush the second his thumb found your clit, rubbing slow circles on it. Your eyes rolled back, and your chest gave way to him. “Fuck, Nick.” You muttered out pathetically.

“I missed you.”

-was the last thing you expected to hear from him in that moment, but you were so lost in euphoria that you couldn’t wrap your head around it. “Mmmhm.” You hummed as your eyes fluttered closed. “Missed you too, Nicky.”

You were absolute putty in his hands, he knew exactly how to work you into whatever he wanted. You were easily pliable to him, and in that moment, he was grateful for it. He placed a soft kiss to your collarbone, then another at the base of your neck. “Missed me how, angel? Tell me.” He whispered, his voice low and crackly.

Your jaw fell slack when he added a third finger but you were so worked up that it hadn’t been that difficult. It still burned but the pleasure he was supplying to your clit was overshadowing any pain.

“Use your words, princess. Let me hear how much you missed me.” He was practically begging you for any morsel you’d give him. He’d never admit it but he was desperate for you too. “Tell me baby, did you touch yourself thinking about me?”

Your head lulled to the side, cascading your hair over your shoulder. “Uh huh.” Was all you could muster.

“Mmm. Like this?” His fingers curled inside you, hitting that sweet spot that was rarely touched by you or anyone else.

You gasped at the feeling in tandem with his thumb on your clit. His fingers pulsed against the soft inner tissue in a rhythm that made your brain numb. It was a spot only he had ever really been able to reach, either with his fingers or his cock. He knew your body better than anyone else ever had and he was good at it.

A smirk played across his lips, evidently satisfied with your response. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The warning of an orgasm burned in the pit of your tummy, filling it with tingling warmth. It must’ve been all over your face because he caught on quickly. “Oh, what’s wrong? Is my pretty girl going to cum already?” He spoke smoothly up your neck while his fingers increased their speed ever so slightly, just enough to tip you over the edge.

You abruptly grabbed hold of his shoulder, squeezing it with every bit of strength inside you as your orgasm washed over you. The euphoria began just below your navel then spread electricity across your skin. You felt it everywhere, down to your fingers and your toes.

He let out a satisfied chuckle against your throat, “That’s my girl.” He praised and held you as your body began to collapse against him. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

When you were finally spent is when he really came to life.

“Fuck I need to taste you.” He exhaled and as soon as you nodded, he snatched you, holding you with both hands securely below your ass. He was in a frenzy, like a shark that just smelled blood. “I want to taste all of you, every bit of mess you just made.”

He hastily carried you over to the bed across the room in your small apartment. He laid you gently, but impatiently, on the edge of the bed with his lips planted on yours.

You barely had time to miss his lips before his tongue latched onto your clit and his fingers returned to their place inside you. He brought you back down to just two fingers in order to give you a bit of reprieve.

Your mouth immediately created an ‘O’ shape with wide eyes at the skill of his tongue. “O-Oh.”

He ate you hungrily as if he hadn’t had pussy in weeks which historically, when he’s off on tours, was quite the opposite. He gave you no time to get caught up in your thoughts with the way his tongue slithered ‘S’ motions from your clit to your entrance, then taking his time at your throbbing bud. He lapped up every bit of your orgasm, not wanting to leave anything behind. The feeling bloomed a sparking heat from the pit of your core to the rest of your body and you silently cursed him for making you feel so good.

When you glanced down you noticed that while he was bent eating you, his hand had been on his cock – gliding up and down swiftly and in rhythm with his fingers and tongue. You thought that might’ve been the hottest thing you’d ever seen, and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of the way he couldn’t not touch himself while eating you.

You let out a tiny moan at the sensation of his tongue against your swollen clit. But god did he feel good. It had to have been his extensive body count that made him good in bed and while you didn’t like thinking about it, you were surely grateful for it in the moment. His tongue expertly spun around your nub with various patterns. You couldn’t help but wiggle around at the stimulation to which he hooked his arms around your thighs and brought you to the edge of the bed. His knees met the wood floors, his tongue never once wavering. When he pulled your bud into his mouth with a suck you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

You shook your head, while he felt amazing, you needed more. “I need your cock, Nick, please.” You begged, pathetically.

His lips curled into a smirk against your core, placing a soft kiss at your clit. “Whatever you wish, princess.”

Your heart swelled and your tummy swirled at the name, it was your favorite, and he knew it. You were convinced it was the best sound in the world when it fell from his lips.

He pressed kisses up until your mid torso before pulling away. You whined at the loss of contact, but you knew it was only for something better. You squirmed at the attention and parted your legs even further, wanting more.

“Look at you, all laid out for me.” He cooed, with his eyes wandering across your body trying to choose his favorite part of you. His fingers trailed up your thighs, taking his time to savor your skin. “Okay, now baby, take a deep breath for me, will you?”

You did as he instructed but your breath hitched in your throat as he slid his fingers inside you once more, this time adding a third finger again. It burned a bit, being stretched out that much, but you knew it had to be done in order to take him fully.

“Good girl.” He hummed as he began pumping his fingers in a slow pace. After some time familiarizing you with the span of his fingers, he decided he wanted to take it further. “Actually, can I have you a different way?”

You nodded, too fucked out to deny him of anything.

His hands were rough when he flipped you over onto your stomach. His pointer and ring fingers slid up, spreading your lips open to let the tip of his cock sit at your entrance. He leaned down to just beside the shell of your ear.

“I wanna hear how bad you want it.”

You let out a near guttural groan at the statement. You were clenching around nothing just at his proximity.

“Oh c’mon, I can feel how bad she wants me.”

“Please, please I need your fucking cock.” You begged.

He smirked against your skin, “Good girl.” His hips moved forward, slowly pushing himself into you. You could feel yourself parting around him painfully, even with the prep you did. Your hips stiffened up not quite remembering how to take him. He took his time, carefully moving deeper inside you.

“Now tell me baby,” He hummed, dipping his fingers down between you. His fingertips slid around his girth to feel where you and he became one. You wondered if he could feel the burn that he was causing. “Has anyone else touched this pretty pussy while I’ve been gone?”

The question caught you off guard, quite literally the last thing you ever thought he’d ask you in this situation. Your eyes instinctively wanted to widen but you squeezed them shut instead. Heat bloomed on your cheeks, but you hoped he didn’t notice.

“Oh, c’mon now, be honest.” He teased in a patronizing tone.

You swallowed all the saliva left in your mouth and pressed your lips shut tight. You knew you couldn’t lie to him, especially not in such a vulnerable position. The truth was that you tried any and everything to get him out of your mind - which landed you some vices in your time apart. You and Nick weren’t anything of substance, nothing official. You were sure Nick had to know since it had come up previously and he never seemed phased by it – you knew about his tour hookups, how would this be any different. Regardless, you had no idea why he was even bringing it up and wished he wouldn’t.

He didn’t seem to like your silent pause and halted his movements. “If you don’t answer I’ll stop.” He threatened.

You groaned in frustration and threw your head down into the mattress. “Fine, fine,” You spat out in defeat. “Yes. One.”

“Hmm.” He stretched out the noise to emphasize his disbelief. “I think you’re a poor liar.” His fingers grazed over your clit briefly, just to remind you what you were missing. “Don’t lie to me baby, you won’t like the outcome.”

You sighed, feeling defeated and helpless beneath him. “Two.” It was the honest truth. One of them he knew about, a long-time casual friends with benefits. The other, was a drunken mistake from the bar on a particularly lonely night.

He sheathed himself fully inside you, “Yeah I can tell.” He said in a pointed tone, and it caused your brows to furrow, wondering what exactly he meant by that. “Oh, don’t worry I don’t mean it that way.” His fingers trailed down your side to hook into your hip, pulling you flush against him. “I can tell by the way you’re trying to adjust to me.” His voice was smooth and deep. “Like your body got too comfortable with something less than me.” His hips shifted back just to fall back into you, hitting you right in the spot that made your stomach twist. It was painful but delicious, reminding you exactly why you’d made this mistake with him so many times. “Or is that what you prefer now?”

You shook your head quickly, you didn’t want anything other than him, you never had. As rocky as your relationship had been, Nick was always the one who owned your heart. It never for one second had been held by anyone other than him in the past couple years. It was sad how loyal you were to him when it was obvious that he never felt the same – at least not in a committed way. “No.” You breathed out. “I want you, Nick.” You looked over your shoulder to meet his eyes and they were filled with something that felt almost like jealousy, but you’d never known Nicholas to be jealous. He’d always been very fluid about your connection – always very clear about the openness of your relationship.

“Say it again.” He demanded while his hands held your hips in place as he slammed back into you in one swift move. His tip landed straight into your cervix, causing a jolt of pain up your spine.

“I want you, Nick.” You repeated with a strained voice.

He finally began a slow rhythm in and out of you, almost like a reward for listening to him. He reached forward and grasped your chin to get you to look back at him again. “Again.”

Your brows knitted at his request – it seemed almost cruel for him to have you repeat the obvious. “I want you.” You whispered. Tears began to well up in your eyes and you couldn’t tell if it was from your emotions or from the burn of him stretching you out. He squeezed your cheeks at the sight of your tears, silently asking you again. “I want you.” You squeaked out, trying to keep the tightness in your chest at bay. “I want you, I want you, I want you.” You repeated over and over, now letting tears flow freely down your cheeks. It bloomed an ache in your chest that you never wanted to feel in the middle of sex.

Suddenly, you felt him pull from you completely but before you got a chance to question it, he flipped you over onto your back. You were only vacant of him for a millisecond before he slid back into place between your legs. He hovered over you, his unraveled hair gathered onto one side of his head, brushing against your shoulder. “I don’t want you to ever question that again.”

“I never did.” You admitted embarrassingly quick. “What’s this about?” You questioned, wondering why you were having this conversation while he was still inside you. Though, he was never one to choose an appropriate time to talk about things.

“I missed you.” He repeated his statement from earlier that you were too fucked out to process. His voice was raspy with lust, but genuine. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You blinked up at him and shook your head, not wanting to get caught up in his empty promises. “Can we just talk about this later?” Although, the moment had already been squandered for you.

“No.” He continued his slow and steady pace while his eyes were set on yours. “I mean it. I want this. I want us.”

Your eyes grew wide in disbelief. You’d never heard him sound so serious about anything, nonetheless about you. “You do?”

“I’ve been an idiot. All I wanted to do was come home to you.” He pressed his forehead against yours. “And the idea of someone else touching you makes me sick. I’m selfish. I want you all to myself. I want you to be mine.”

“I’ve always been yours, Nick.” You whispered with brows curved up in sincerity. Even with flings and vices your heart never beat for anyone else, you could never love another – no matter how stupid it made you look. You were stuck on him whether you liked it or not. You’d always been his even when he wasn’t yours, even when he wanted nothing to do with you.

His grey eyes shifted between your glossy eyes trying to read your honesty. He said nothing more before uniting your lips into the deepest kiss you’d ever felt. Love was a whisper lingering on your tongue, but you knew tonight wasn’t the night for that. Passion quickly spread from your heated kiss to the speed of his hips. His thrusts were fast and hard, though they weren’t fueled by a promise of an orgasm but rather by a need to show you exactly how he felt. Your entire body bounced against his rough repetitions, and it was overwhelming in the best way.

His head fell into your neck, his heavy breaths against your sensitive skin sent tingles across your body. “You’re taking me so well.” He muttered below your ear. His hand found your leg and ran his fingers beneath it, pulling it up from behind your knee and bending it towards you as far as it would allow. The new position spread you out even more and made sure you felt everything – the way the head of his cock embedded itself into your g-spot and the way your walls stretched around him. “Doesn’t that feel good baby, being so full?”

You let out a moan as your eyes rolled back. “Fuck yes.” It was the truth, no one ever filled you like he did.

“Uh-uh.” His hand grasped your cheeks. “Eyes on me.”

The sensations of everything were enough to fill your clit with buzzing need and you gasped when his thumb found it. Your eyes widened as he began rolling small circles into it in time with his quick pace.

“Oh-oh.” You stuttered out pathetically as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten, threatening to snap already.

“Take your time baby, there’s no rush.” He soothed but it only accelerated your already impending orgasm. Your fingers curled into his arms harshly, surely hard enough to leave half-moon imprints into his skin. “Oh, I know, I know.” He comforted.

That’s all it took to unravel you. Tingly warmth spread across your body, making every inch of you feel blissful. It was enough to temporarily blind your vision as you got lost in the immense pleasure that was overtaking your entire being.

“That’s it angel, just like that. I want all of it.” He said softly below your ear, but it was clear with the shakiness of his own voice that he was close too.

His speed became rapid and erratic as he sensed you reaching the height of your peak. “Fuck.” He murmured into your neck as he slammed his hips into yours faster than you could process. “Fuck I’m gonna cum.”   

All you did in response was cross your legs around his waist to pull him in deeper. It didn’t take long for him to meet you in your climax. You felt his cock twitch and pulse inside of you followed by warmth pooling in the deepest part of you.

When the moment was over, Nick took his time, tenderly ensuring you were both clean and comfortable. Aftercare was something he never skipped, but tonight, he seemed especially patient and tender. Once he’d helped you into your favorite pajamas and made a warm cup of tea, he pulled you gently into his side.

“I’m sorry it took me so long.” he said, peering down at you with a sincerity that made your heart ache.

You gave him a small knowing nod, too spent to say more. Curled against his side, a quiet apprehension settled over you, memories of past mistakes lingered softly at the edges of your mind. He was the last person you should trust, but your heart couldn’t summon the strength to turn him away. So, you chose to believe in him once more, silently hoping this time would be different and that his words were true. As he held you tighter than ever, your choice felt right. Finally, he was yours, and you were his.

A/N; thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts<3

Taglist; @measuredingold @ladyveronikawrites @deathblacksmoke @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 12

I've decided that since I have a fair amount of backlog on the three I've been doing WIP Wednesday for, that I'd post some of them to give me time to work on the rom-com AU more.

I recommend going back and re-reading part 11 at least before reading this one to be on the safe side.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

The Fallen boys need a break and Robin and Chrissy meet up with Nancy.

****

Things were going really well in the studio now that they had Bob Newby as their producer and their studio was closer to home so they could live their normal lives and still be in the studio recording.

It was the happiest the band had been in awhile. Which was why Steve should have seen it coming. The dark cloud on the horizon.

Shane was late.

That wasn’t to say that it was out of the ordinary or whatever, but it was now two hours late and Spence was pissed.

“When I get my hands on his scrawny neck,” he hissed. “I’m going to kill him.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “You’re just upset because it’s means you’ll be late for your date or whatever with Nadia. He’ll be here.”

“That’s not true and you know it, Asmodeus,” Spence bit out. “This is the third time this week and yeah, so what if I have a life outside of this, but that’s not why.”

Just then Shane stumbled in. He looked like absolute shit. His clothes were disheveled, his hair was a mess, and he wore dark sunglasses. Clutched to his chest was a large coffee.

“Fuck...” he mumbled as he shambled over to the sofa. He lowered himself gently onto the thing with a stream of curses. “Sorry I’m late, but my hookup last night turned off my alarm.”

He took a long sip of his coffee and rubbed his temple. He had finished most of the coffee when he realized that no one had said a word since he arrived.

The door opened and Bob and Robin entered the room looking more than a little cross.

Shane flashed them a smile. “Uh oh, it looks like I upset both mom and dad. So I was a little late. It happens.”

“But it shouldn’t be happening,” Spence said with a scowl. “This isn’t the first time. Hell, it’s not even the first time this week.”

Shane frowned, setting his coffee on the floor between his feet. He rubbed his temples as he struggled to think back. “That can’t be right, it’s only Monday, right?”

Everyone shared concerned glances.

“Astraeus,” Steve said slowly, “it’s Thursday.”

Bob crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You were late on Sunday, Monday and today, Astraeus.”

Shane stared up at them in open shock and disbelief. “There’s no way!” He pulled out his phone and looked at the date.

“Shit.”

“What’s been going on, man?” Simon asked, concerned for the first time. He hadn’t realized how often it had been and was giving Spence shit for wanting to be with his girlfriend.

Shane shook his head. “I have money for the first time in my life. I mean proper money. My parents always had enough to make sure we got into the things we wanted; sports, drama, music, you name it, but there wasn’t a lot of money to go around after, you know? I had to pay for my college education myself and I just wanted to live a little. Spread the money around, even if I couldn’t tell them what I did for a living, they don’t really care.”

“I can see that,” Robin said. “I think we all breathing easier, regardless of our backgrounds because the money we’re getting has pretty much set us up for life if it all went to shit tomorrow, which I really wouldn’t recommend, by the way.”

Shane let out a huff of breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “I really didn’t mean to go off like that, I’ll cut back to just the weekends. I promise.”

Robin and Bob shared a glance.

“That’s strike one, Astraeus,” Bob said, “I don’t take slackers lightly. You want me to continue to work for you guys, you’ve got to step it up.”

Shane nodded empathically. “Can we have a day off a week though? It doesn’t have to be on the weekend, but this seven days a week is really hard.”

Robin blinked at him a moment. “You guys have been coming every day?”

The band looked around at each and all gave a collective shrug.

She turned to Bob. “Is that your schedule?”

Bob’s jaw dropped and he shook his head. “I only do that if there’s a rush to get the album out, which I understood there wasn’t. I don’t how we got on working every day, but Astraeus is correct they need a day off.”

“What works best for everyone?”

The band worked out a better schedule that worked for everyone with it ending with Bob giving everyone the rest of the week off, giving them strict instructions to talk to him about those sort of things before it got to this point.

Robin clapped her hands once. “Right, now that we’ve got that settled, we’re still meeting up at Abbadon’s for dinner to discuss my meeting with Nancy. My meeting is at three and dinner is at six, so don’t be late.” She glared at Shane and he raised his hands in surrender.

“See you all then!”

****

Robin straightened her wig in her rearview mirror and added more lipstick. She wore special contacts that changed her bright blue eyes to a more common brown color. She was dressed in slim fitting white slacks with a bright pink silk blouse and a black leather aviator’s jacket. She hated wearing these clothes, they just weren’t her. At least she didn’t have to wear high heels to this thing. She would have broken an ankle for sure.

But she would sell her soul to the devil if it meant that Steve got to do what he loved. And it wasn’t as though she didn’t love her job either. But Eddie was right, she was on her last frayed nerve and that wouldn’t do her boys any good.

She slid out of her Maserati MC20 and walked up to the restaurant. The Corroded Coffin’s manager, Chrissy Cunningham was going to be there as a mediator.

Robin hadn’t told Steve this, but Chrissy knew who she was. Not the band, she didn’t know that, but she knew that Celeste Baptiste was Robin Buckley. It was just something Robin felt she needed to know before going in there with Nancy. That she personally had a stake in the game, even if it was just as Steve’s best friend.

Chrissy loved the idea of even their manager having an alter ego and it made Robin feel better about her choice to be someone else.

Robin and Chrissy kissed each other’s cheeks in greeting and Robin sat down.

“She’s not here yet?” she asked, looking at her matching watch.

Chrissy shook her head. “She’s running a little behind. One of her clients blew up the internet last night and she’s been having to play hard ball to keep it from destroying their career.”

Robin leaned in close. “Ooh, do you know who it was?”

“That’s for me to know,” Nancy said from above them, “and for you to never find out.”

Robin looked up at her and was struck on how good she looked. It was almost unfair how good she looked.

She was wearing a grey plaid blazer with the sleeves rolled up over a white button shirt and a black pencil skirt. She wore grey boots and matching sunglasses, glasses she took off with a shake of her dark curls.

Robin gulped. Nancy had been intimidating enough in high school, but now she could stare down a raging bull and come away unscathed.

“Hello, ladies,” Nancy said with a smile. “I’m sorry I was late, but I think I managed a god damn miracle and could eat an entire salad bar.”

Nancy sat down and put her phone in her purse.

“Oh are you vegan?” Chrissy asked as the waiter came up with a pitcher of water. Nancy waved him off and ordered a rosé.

“Just vegetarian,” she said with a shake of her head. “I love cheese too much. Plus, I knew a militant vegan and they scare me.”

Robin laughed. “Couldn’t be me, I went full vegan last year and haven’t looked back.”

Nancy and Chrissy both winced, but for different reasons, Nancy for her comment about militant vegans and Chrissy, well...

“I picked this place because it has the best rib eye steak on the planet,” she said with a grimace. “That’s not going to bother either of you if I order that, right?”

Nancy and Robin shared a glance and then shook their heads.

“My best friend loves steak,” Robin said, “It’s his choice to eat it, I just a have a problem with the ethical consumption of meat and other animal products.”

“Most of my clients eat meat,” Nancy agreed. “I’m not about to piss them off because I don’t like the taste.”

Chrissy relaxed and let out a long sigh. “Great!”

She picked up her menu to hide her embarrassment. A few minutes later, their waiter came back and they placed their orders.

Nancy had ordered a pasta with roasted sun dried tomatoes and mushrooms and Robin ordered a simple salad with a vinaigrette.

As they waited for their food, Nancy got down to business. “So as I understand it, the band The Fallen is looking for an agent to help with the legal and PR aspect of their brand, correct?”

Robin nodded, twisting her napkin nervously. Normally as Celeste, she was cooler under pressure but Nancy scared her. Not because of anything she could do to her specifically, but because what she could do to her boys.

Chrissy reached out and laid her hand over Robin’s fidgeting ones. Robin let out a shuddered breath.

“Normally bands like theirs have teams and teams of people doing all the work,” Robin said, “but with the secrecy surrounding their identities the more people that know the easier it is for a leak.”

Nancy nodded. “It’s certainly not the usual thing. But I’ve got a few clients that are strict about their identities and it wouldn’t be a problem, but as I told Chrissy, I would have know everything about them so that I can do my upmost to protect them.”

“Did you sign the NDA?” Robin asked, straightening her spine. This was something she was good at. Protecting her boys and she would do it with the fierceness of a mother bear and her cubs.

Nancy picked up her briefcase and opened it up. She took out a folder and handed it to Robin. Robin looked it over and then nodded.

She stuck it in her purse and pulled out a hard portfolio and slid it across to Nancy. Chrissy squeezed her hand as Nancy read through the documents. Their food arrived in the interim and she set it aside. She steepled her hands and planted her elbows on the table.

“How much of this do you know?” she asked Chrissy.

“Only what I needed to which is who Celeste is,” she replied, “and that both her and Abbadon have a history with you that could be trouble for a lot of people, not just the band.”

Nancy nodded and took a bite of her food before saying anything else. Chrissy and Robin exchanged glances but started eating as well. More for something to do in the intervening silence than because they were actually interested in food at that moment.

After a few moments Nancy blotted her lips with her napkin and set it next to her plate. “This is not what I was expecting when I heard that you had concerns about my professionalism and in all honesty, this is easier to understand then a manager thinking they don’t need the help of an agent when they really do.”

Chrissy and Robin shared a glance.

“Is that something that’s common?” Chrissy asked. Corroded Coffin had already had Nancy as their agent when she became their manager five years ago. They had outgrown their former manager Murray Bauman and was looking for someone younger to manage them so they hired her.

Nancy nodded. “It is.” She turned to Robin. “You’re his best friend, right? The quirky band chick who was always working with him?”

Robin was impressed with her way of asking the question without revealing anything significant about their identity. She brought her finger up to her contact and moved it aside to show the blue underneath before sliding it back into place.

“I’m assuming I’m the last resort?” Nancy asked after taking another bite of food.

Robin and Chrissy shared another glance.

“Not in the way you mean,” Chrissy explained. “I gave her a list of agents that might be able to have them on as clients and we’ve met with a couple of them but decided even before they got to what’s in the folder that they weren’t suitable for their needs.”

“The double lives aspect, I suspect.”

“Both of them wanted to push them into revealing themselves,” Robin said, nodding. “Which was completely off the table.”

Nancy licked her bottom lip and her eyes narrowed. “Is that off the table indefinitely or will we circle back to that sometime in the future?”

Robin rolled her eyes. “There’s no way to predict if they’re going to change their mind five-six years down the line.”

“I’m going to be frank,” she said, “I do not have a problem repping them. Not even Abbadon. But I understand there will be some awkwardness on both sides at first. I will even apologize in person. Because the fact of the matter is, I did hurt him. I strung him along until something better came along and then didn’t even have the decency to break up with him before moving on. I was young and stupid and even worse, I’m not even with that guy anymore. Like with me and Abbadon, we wanted different things.”

“Apologize first,” Chrissy said with a wicked gleam in her eye, “then we’ll see about hiring you for The Fallen.”

Nancy reached out to shake Robin’s hand. “Deal?”

Robin nodded curtly. “Deal.”

They moved onto the more tedious aspects of what they wanted out of Nancy as they finished their meals.

But as Robin was heading back to her car she had a small satisfied smile on her face. Yes, this really was the best option for the band.

****

Because of canon-Chrissy's unhealthy relationship with food, I wanted her to go hard into eating all things that her mom most likely forbade her from eating growing up. Hence the steak and the wine. Nancy I figured would be at least vegetarian with personality (just the vibes I get from her *shrug*) and Robin would absolutely be vegan. Just not a militant one.

Tag List: 10 slots remaining

Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

@useless-nb-bisexual

6- @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

[theragethatisdesire]

"l’amore è cieco" - eren x reader - 18+!!!

back to the ti penso universe!!! finally!! did you guys miss it? i know i did; i am utterly obsessed with these two. i've had this sitting in my unfinished wip pile for way too long not to share.

our lovebirds have gotten the wedding all wrapped up with, so we're a solid four years past them reuniting in italy....and surprise! they're expecting!!!!! i could literally scream just writing that; the grip dad!eren has on me will never let up, i fear......anyways, this one's a little rough because i've picked it apart a thousand times and i'm just tired of editing, so you guys enjoy!!! sorry if it's not quite up to par :/

pairing: eren x reader

wc: 4k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, reader is pregnant, use of names (baby, mama, pretty, beautiful, etc), swearing, vaginal sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, lactation kink, creampie, crying, tooth-rotting fluff

title means "love is blind" in italian, per tradition w this verse <3

-

Right on schedule with your new daily, depressing routine, you stand in front of the mirror running your hands over your body, examining the recent changes. On second thought, scrutinizing might be a better word.

You’re grateful your job has allowed you to work from home for your entire pregnancy, editing articles from the journalists who can actually travel while snuggled up on your couch, but the downside of it is that you’ve had far too much time to mull on all of the ways your body has stretched and warped to accommodate the growing little girl in your stomach. You thought pregnancy was supposed to be beautiful, and sometimes it is, but more often than not, you just feel like a swollen, hormonal mess.

You “popped”, as all the mommy podcasts say, about two weeks ago, and thin stretch marks have begun to appear on your stomach. Eren calls them your “tiger stripes”, having been in full-blown cringe dad mode since the day you took the test. Bizarre cravings control you at all hours of the day, evidenced by the little black crumbs you’re picking out of your sports bra, left behind by your fourteen-Oreo breakfast today. You gaze longingly at the jewelry box on your bathroom counter; you haven’t been able to wear your wedding band in weeks, the tan line already beginning to fade from your finger. Before you can get a hold of yourself, the hormones have you in their grip, and hot, frustrated tears are spilling down your cheeks.

“Babe, have you seen that tie with the red–” Eren materializes in the doorway with absolutely no warning, as he’s prone to do, but cuts himself off at the sight of you, “baby, no, again?”

“Don’t say it like that,” you say, reluctantly allowing him to take you in his arms.

“Like what?” Eren’s voice is sweet, but hesitant. He’s been living under the constant threat of getting his head bitten off for mundane reasons because of you. It makes you feel worse, makes you shove him away and glare at him accusingly.

“Like I’m always fucking crying.” You are always crying, but you wish he would at least muster up some semblance of surprise at finding you in tears yet again. You turn away from him, wiping your face in the mirror. “Shouldn’t you be packing? Your flight leaves in like, three hours.”

“I’ll cancel,” Eren coos, stepping behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, picking your belly up in his hands.

It’s some hack he got off Tik Tok, supposed to take the weight off of your back for a precious moment, and as much as you don’t necessarily want to be touched right now, it actually helps. You’ve been alternating between thinking Eren’s overenthusiastic parenting research is adorable and mind-numbingly annoying, but for the moment, your back has stopped aching for the first time all morning, and you sigh, leaning into him.

“You can’t cancel,” you murmur, momentarily soothed, “‘s a big client. Where is it again? France?”

“I just got back from France, Miss Pregnancy Brain,” Eren chuckles, quieting immediately upon catching your lethal gaze in the mirror. “It’s just over in LA, and honestly, I could have Hitch go if you need me.”

“No, I can take care of myself, it’s just like…” a fresh wave of tears spills down your cheeks, “fuck, I don’t even know what’s wrong with me.”

Eren nods into your shoulder, letting you sniffle. It’s not a new trait, your outright refusal to ask for help, but it’s been exacerbated by your pregnancy, especially considering exactly how much help you actually need now.

You’ve taken custody of all of his sweatpants, not yet able to bring yourself to buy maternity clothes. You’d walked in sobbing and humiliated the other day because you’d peed yourself on the long elevator ride up to your apartment in front of the neighbors. You can’t sleep on your stomach anymore; Eren has to prop himself up just right beside you and sandwich you between himself and a wall of pillows to stop you from turning. You know it hurts him seeing you miserable, and you try to suck it up and enjoy the positives of pregnancy as much as you can, but you can’t muster up that strength every day.

“Hush,” Eren pulls your wet face to his chest, letting you stain the Number 1 Dad! t-shirt he had bought himself. “I’m not going.”

“Eren–”

“I’m not,” he says firmly, rubbing small circles into the bottom of your spine, “you need me here, whether you want to admit it or not.”

You grumble complacently, nuzzling into him. You do need him, as much as you want to think you can tough it out on your own. Eren’s bought book after book, not just for the baby, but for you. Most nights you find him reading titles like You’ve Made the Baby…Now What? or How to Survive Pregnancy: A Guide for Men with his feet propped up on the coffee table, a habit that, despite your efforts, you cannot nag him out of. It’s cute, honestly, how over-the-top he’s gotten with baby prep, especially when you’re often too exhausted to wrap your mind around reading a parenting guide.

“I feel ugly,” you admit quietly, sticky and snotty against his shirt. “I feel disgusting.”

“What?” Eren’s reaction is one of genuine confusion. He pushes you away from him so he can search your face, waiting patiently for you to elaborate.

“I’m gaining an obscene amount of weight, my ankles are the size of my knees, I can’t wear a single one of my rings, what am I supposed to feel like?”

Eren frowns. “Those things are supposed to happen. I read last night–”

“I don’t care!” Your voice cracks under the weight of your frustration, and you press your fingers into your eyes hard enough to see stars, trying to regain control of your temper. “I don’t care that it’s supposed to happen. It still sucks.”

“I think you’re beautiful,” Eren sounds earnest, but you scoff at him anyway.

“We’re married. You’re supposed to say that.”

“I don’t have to.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “If you want your head to stay on your shoulders you do.”

Eren laughs at that, tugging you over to stand between his legs as he sits on the bed. “So, you’re serious? You genuinely don’t think you look good pregnant?”

“No,” you rub at your nose, “I don’t.”

Eren looks up at you, cupping your face gently. “I disagree.”

“Do you really?”

“I think you look better than ever.”

“That’s an insult to non-pregnant me,” you roll your eyes, moving to step away, but Eren holds you tight between his legs.

“It’s not,” he insists, “there’s just some things your pregnant body has that you didn’t necessarily have before. Some things that I like.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “Cankles?”

Eren chuckles breathily, shaking his head. “I adore your cankles, but they weren't exactly the first thing that came to mind. Take these, for one thing.”

Eren presses his nose into your sports bra, hands moving up underneath to palm at your swollen tits. You let out a breathy laugh as he explores, already feeling a low heat beginning to simmer in your core. That’s one perk of entering your second trimester; your hormones might turn on a dime, but your sex drive has skyrocketed.

Eren shoves your bra up to free your tits, groaning appreciatively as he takes a nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking. You watch as he feels his way around with his mouth, humming contentedly under your breath, when suddenly, his eyes fly open and he shoots away from you.

“What?”

Eren shushes you, bringing a hand to the breast that had been in his mouth and squeezing lightly. White liquid beads on your nipple, and you cover your face in shame.

“When did that start?”

“A few days ago,” you admit, trying to push his hands off of you, cheeks burning. Eren swats you away, leaning back into your nipple, sucking harder. You can feel a small stream of milk leaving you, relieving some of the pressure in your tits; a moan rumbles deep in Eren’s chest, and you can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. Eren releases your nipple with a loud pop and looks up at you panting, eyes blown wide.

“Is it weird that that’s kinda hot?”

“Probably.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” you hum, threading your hands through his hair and urging him back to your chest, “feels good.”

That’s all Eren needs to hear, diving back into your chest with renewed vigor. As he continues, you realize it doesn’t just feel good, it actually feels incredible. You’ve always had sensitive breasts, but with the pregnancy, sensation has increased tenfold; you can feel your panties getting wetter as the weight of your full breast decreases. When Eren’s gotten all he can from your left nipple, he moves to your right, replacing his mouth on the now-abandoned nipple with his hand to twist gently at the wet skin.

The combined sensation makes your knees buckle; Eren saves you smoothly by wrapping an arm around your lower back, yanking you to him to straddle his leg. It’s the perfect angle for you to roll your hips against his thigh slowly, feeling the much-needed friction of his sweatpants against your cunt.

“Eren…” you breathe out, voice nothing more than a wisp of air.

“I know baby,” Eren speaks directly into your flesh, not willing to back away for even a moment, “feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Feels so good,” you whimper, clutching him to you with fistfuls of his hair.

“Told you this new body’s not so bad, hm?” Eren closes his teeth down on your nipple lightly; you almost keel over from the shockwave it sends through you.

You nod, rubbing yourself against his thigh faster. It’s awkward and cumbersome with your belly in the way, but it’s enough for now, enough to light your nerves on fire in that way that only Eren’s ever been able to.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” Eren mutters, grabbing onto your hips to help you get your rhythm right, “you’re so perfect, and you don’t even see it.”

Your fingers dig into his arms as you moan. “But my stomach–”

“But nothing,” Eren kisses you, mumbling into your mouth, “love your stomach, love your tits, love all of it. You think it doesn’t make me so fucking hard, watching you walk around with that big belly and knowing what it came from? I did that. We did that, didn’t we baby?”

“Mhm,” you bite into his shoulder, the friction on your clit through your sweatpants is getting to your head, making you dizzy. “Eren, Eren–”

“Sh sh sh,” Eren shushes you, moving so that he can look you in the eyes, “what do you need? Tell me.”

“I don’t– I don’t know, I just…” you can’t find the words, so in need of him that you can’t even decide what sounds best. His mouth? His fingers? All of it?

“Okay, okay,” Eren says quietly, standing you both up only to lay you against the pillows, “I’ve gotcha.”

He nudges his sweatpants down your legs, bringing your panties with them, spreads your legs so he can see the most intimate part of you. Eren brings his hand to your clit, rubbing tentatively, but you’re so desperate for him that it’s enough to make your back arch, a long, throaty moan ripping out of you. He lays beside you, gently playing with your clit and watching in awe at the reaction you give him, already a blubbering mess after only a few minutes.

“So sensitive, aren’t you mama?”

“Yes,” you hiss out through clenched teeth, a fresh wave of arousal flooding you at the name, “s-so sensitive. Need to cum, I need, n-need–”

“I’ll make you cum,” Eren promises, sinking a finger into you, “I’ll make you cum, baby.”

“Fuck, Eren, it’s– I can’t–”

“Feel good?”

“So fucking good,” you’re basically sobbing at this point, fingers clenched into the muscles of his bicep, clinging to him and humping his hand. You’re not sure if it’s the lack of sex over the first trimester (“What if I hit the baby’s head?” Eren had asked nervously whenever you approached him) or the rawness of the sensation against your over-sensitive body, but you’ve never been so close to your orgasm so quickly.

You don’t hold out long; Eren’s skilled with even just one finger, and before long, you’re crying out his name, gushing all over his hand. Eren presses his lips to your forehead in a sweet kiss despite having utterly destroyed you less than thirty seconds ago.

“Ready for me?”

“Sit,” you pant, pointing to the massive stack of pillows against your headboard. Eren raises his eyebrows in surprise, but does as he’s told, only pausing to pull his clothes off. The loss of the stupid dad t-shirt is a relief as much as feeling his bare chest under your hands. Due to your hormones, you’ve thrown Eren out of the house several times, and you’ve demanded to be alone enough to where his only solution is to go to the gym downstairs and work out until you’ve calmed down. It shows: his chest has grown broader and stronger, and the veins on his arms are nearly popping through the skin. “You look good.”

“Yeah?” Eren offers a shit-eating grin, flexing his bicep ever so subtly. “You should see yourself.”

“You seriously think I look good like this?” You’re straddling his hips now, rubbing your clit on his bare cock. It’s a lewd sight, his cock drooling on his abs, glistening with your cum; your cunt clenches around nothing, more than ready to be filled.

“Mhm, you look so fucking good like that,” Eren grunts, hands finding your hips again and lifting you up to sink you down on his cock, both of you letting out loud, satisfied groans, “but you look much better like this.”

You grind your hips against his, not possessing the energy to bounce your now-heavier body, but it makes you see stars. Eren rarely lets you ride him, much preferring to bend you over or pin you to the bed himself, but with your bump, you now have an excuse to hop on top of him whenever you like. It’s been close to a decade of fucking him, but the full stretch of him never fails to shock you, the way he pushes into you until you’re positive he’s in your stomach. With Eren sitting up, his cock stays firmly nestled against your g-spot, pushing little bits of squirt out of you with each movement of your hips.

“Eren–” you whimper, holding your breasts as you rock into him.

“Shit- you’re so tight like this,” Eren says through his clenched jaw, throwing his head back against the headboard, “why don’t you ride me more often?”

“You don’t let me,” you say with a watery giggle.

“Stupid,” Eren gasps, “‘m so fucking stupid.”

You’re too fucked out to voice your agreement, opting for sliding a hand down your body to flick at your clit. You can’t quite reach it around your bump, though, a discontented noise leaving your lips. Eren opens his eyes, takes notice of the way you’re hunching your back, and swats your hand away.

“I got it, I got it,” he pants, tucking his hand underneath your swollen belly to rub your clit just the way he knows you like it.

“Oh, f-fuck,” you choke out, throwing your head back.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” you hiss, “‘s perfect.”

“Take what you need, mama,” Eren’s watching you intently, a glimmer of admiration in his eye, “take what you need.”

You’re moaning pitifully, loud and wanton as Eren’s cock moves inside of you. Your cunt tightens around him desperately as the bubble building in your stomach threatens to explode.

“Think you get wetter like this, all swollen with my baby,” Eren muses, leaning forward to latch his mouth around one of your nipples where more milk has already started to pool. His words have a visceral reaction on you; you cry, tears welling in your eyes as you spiral towards your release. 

“I think–I think I’m gonna– oh fuck, don’t stop,” you croon, rocking your hips as fast as you can manage. Eren mumbles around your nipple, something about how beautiful you look, and you come undone around him, grinding your hips hard against his and cradling him to your chest. He might have a point- there’s damn near a puddle of your arousal at the base of where you’re connected, slicking up the skin on his hips and the inside of your thighs.

“Better?” Eren pulls you in for a kiss; you can feel him grinning through it.

“Maybe a little,” you admit, laughing light and watery against his mouth.

“Mmm,” Eren hums, grabbing you by the hips and lifting you only to drop you down again and turn your laughter to a quiet whimper, “not good enough. Need you to be much better.”

“Fuck me, then,” you nip at his bottom lip, earn yourself a deep groan.

“Can you— can you hold yourself up like this?” Eren scooches both of you down, albeit, a little awkwardly, so that he can lay flat on the bed. He moves you up until you’ve only got him halfway inside of you, cocking a questioning eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, I–I think so.”

“And you’re sure I’m not going to hurt–”

“Jesus Christ– no Eren, it’s fine, just– fuck,” he cuts you off with a sharp snap of his hips up into yours, grinning menacingly when your eyes roll back.

“Like that?”

“Just like that,” you moan, annoyance wiped from you with one clean stroke. Eren takes that for the green light that it is and starts pistoning his hips up into you, swearing under his breath. Even though he’d instructed you to hold yourself up, he makes good use of his new muscles, suspending you at the perfect height to feel every inch of him as he fucks up into you like his life depends on it.

“You look so fucking gorgeous like this,” Eren growls, “all swollen with my fuckin’ baby. Gonna keep you like this, give you as many as you want.”

“Eren–” you choke out, suffocating on the way he’s fucking you, his words, him. For the first time in months, you feel amazing, holding your chest and groaning long and loud as Eren thrusts up into you.

“Baby, I’m- fuck, not gonna–” Eren cuts himself off with something that sounds suspiciously close to a whimper, throwing his head back.

“Cum in me,” you pant, nodding urgently at him, “want it so bad.”

“Oh fuck,” Eren groans, hips moving impossibly faster. His fingers are digging into your hips near to the point of pain, and that little frown he makes when he’s about to cum is crumpling his face. You do want it, badly.

“Please Eren, I need it,” you gasp, legs trembling on either side of his hips.

“Fucking love you, love you so much,” Eren slurs, hips stuttering. With a long, throaty moan, he slams you down one final time, cumming deep inside of you. You grind against him as he does, moaning along with him at the familiar warmth in your belly. Exhausted, you momentarily forget about your bump and try to collapse facefirst on him- that’s enough to snap Eren out of his post-orgasm haze.

“Whoa, whoa,” Eren shoves you back upright, lifting you under your shoulders and laying you on your back, “careful.”

You wince. “Shit, sorry. Sometimes I forget. It’s still sort of new.”

“I know,” Eren agrees, eyes locked lovingly on your baby bump, “love it, though.”

“Really?”

Eren cocks a disbelieving eyebrow at you. “If that didn’t convince you, I don’t know what will.”

You giggle at that; he’s always been good at this, cheering you up and diffusing your worries like it’s second nature. After ten years, it probably is at this point.

“I don’t mean to be so down on myself, really,” you sigh, tracing a finger over where his hand’s splayed on your stomach, “it’s just…so much harder than I thought it would be.”

Eren nods thoughtfully. “That’s reasonable. But you’re so good at it.”

“I haven’t even– what?” The insecurities that you’ve been successfully masking under good natured teasing and occasional annoyance come slipping from between your lips. You’ve thought it for weeks; how Eren’s so into all the baby stuff, so enthusiastic about learning everything he can, while all you’ve managed is trying not to gag when he cooks eggs in the morning and picking out some onesies. “What about all of your books and your podcasts and crap? You’re the one doing everything.”

“That’s all I can do,” Eren scoffs, “you’re doing all the hard stuff, like carrying the baby around and puking every morning and crying all the time–”

“Hey!”

“I’m serious,” Eren shushes you, “you’re putting in all the legwork. I mean, you’re literally growing our baby. You’re a fucking rockstar mom already. If anyone’s not doing enough here, it’s me.”

That’s one thing about Eren that will never get easier; his deep, unwavering admiration for you, no matter what you’re doing. Sure, it’s endearing when Eren spins you around in his arms for something as simple as finally getting that croissant recipe to come out well, but when he’s praising you for something that’s actually difficult? It’s sweet enough to give you a cavity, warm your heart, and turn your cheeks pink all at once, even after all this time.

“Well, if you’d like to take a shift carrying her around, be my guest. She’s a chunky little thing already,” you roll your eyes, tucking your face into Eren’s ribs to mask the flush rising to your face.

“I’d do it for you if I could,” Eren sighs in faux-thoughtfulness, “but I wouldn’t look half as hot.”

You giggle furiously when he lands a slap to your ass, swatting at his chest. “God, it still doesn’t feel real, does it? A little girl that’s half you, half me.”

“It does and it doesn’t,” Eren shrugs, bringing a hand back to your stomach, “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been thinking about it since Italy.”

You gape at him. “That long?”

“You know I’m always ahead of you on this stuff,” Eren teases, squeezing your cheeks together, “knew I wanted you first, knew I wanted you back first, knew we should get married…”

“Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes at his bragging, “it’s just, like…are we ready? To do this?”

“This?” Eren cocks his head.

“The whole…‘parents’ thing.”

“Putting aside the fact that you're way too late to be having those kinds of thoughts,” Eren says, rubbing your lower back, “of course we’re ready. There’s no perfect parents, but I believe in us– believe in you. Gonna be the best mama any baby’s ever had, I know you will.”

“I don’t even…oh, Eren.” You’re tearing up again–damn hormones. Eren wipes at your tears, planting a big kiss on your forehead.

“I mean it. You’re going to be great, already are,” he says, smiling down at you. He holds you just like that for a few moments, letting you nuzzle into his chest, until his little grin grows wicked. “Although…the only thing I can say I am worried about is which one of us is going to accidentally teach her her first swear word. Should we bet on it?"

Even through your tears, you cock an eyebrow at him. “You and I both know that’s going to be Jean. Especially after what you taught Clara the last time we babysat.”

Eren barks out a laugh. “Hey, hearing her call Jean ‘Daddy Jackass’ was funny, and you know it!”

“Thanks for reminding me,” you smirk, “now I know what I’m teaching our little girl first.”

“No way!”

[queen-of-elves]

Kinktober 2023: Oneshot

Sanji Vinsmoke x f!reader

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

A/N: bit ooc Sanji? At first I had in mind anime!Sanji but it's a bit of personality hybrid between anime and opla,I tried lol also this is my first smut I actually posted and you can NOT change my mind that Sanji is a service bottom

And yes, I am late as always, had no time to proofread it but I did edit as much as I could

A/N2: the lovely pink MDNI banner is from @cafekitsune and I love their work, definitely check them out and give them some love too

+I have some more Sanji fanfics in WIPs

Words:  2,7K

Warnings: unintentional aphrodisiac use, oral (f! receiving), hair pulling? (Sanji receiving tho), overstimulation, fingering, multiple orgasms,

The Strawhat pirates loved adventures and causing trouble while experiencing them but sometimes their adventures turned into a life or death situation quite easily. It was actually more common than most would think. And that brings us to the situation at hand, all of you running away from what at first seemed like a fun little island which turned out to be home to man eating plants around the size of Thousand Sunny. 

In the end, when everyone boarded the ship and you were far away from the cursed island, you all had to agree on one thing, the stop was much needed. The crew had been on the sea for some time now and the supplies you got from the last town were stretching thin, it had little to do with your long journey, the fault lied with your captain and his midnight raids on the kitchen. But thanks to the island you were now happy to be as far from as you could get, all of you had enough to eat for at least a month, well, according to Sanji, who was not only in charge of the kitchen but also of its protection from your gluttony of a captain.

Speaking of Sanji, you always had a thing for the handsome chef, even though you knew of his habit of flirting with every woman he saw. There was just something about him that didn’t let you sleep at night. One of your favorite activities involving the cook was watching him create various wonderful dishes for the whole crew.

And whatever he was cooking now was smelling delicious, the smell filling the corridors leading to the kitchen, Sanji’s kingdom itself. The whole kitchen smelled of herbs you could not recognize, similar to rosemary but not quite, you of course knew no matter with what Sanji works, he always makes the best dish out of it. And there it was, in a tall metal cooking pot was  the source of the delicious smell, a rich stew full of potatoes and tasty looking meat. You were sure Sanji wouldn’t mind if you had a spoonful before he was done with dinner. 

“You can be the first to taste my new dish if you want.” Oh, speaking of the handsome devil. Turning around you were greeted with quite the sight. The blond cook was casually leaning on the doorframe watching you with a smirk.

“So, I will be the first one to get poisoned from those strange herbs?”

“Oh, you hurt my heart, sweetness. You know I wouldn’t want to poison your or our captain.”

“I don’t think Luffy can get poisoned from anything at this point and anyway, we're talking about your cooking, there is like zero percent chance that it would happen.”

“Well aren’t you sweet. Would you then do me the honor and try my new dish, please sweetheart?” The blond seemed pretty adamant about you trying his dish and since there was no escaping his pleads you decided to grant his wish. After all, you, yourself were already itching to have a taste yourself.

“Of course.” You could clearly tell that Sanji was trying to act nonchalant about the whole thing but was eagerly waiting to see your reaction upon eating the dish.

Holding up a plate so you wouldn’t let even drop escape onto the kitchen counter, you took one of the spoons that sat on it.

“Oh, that’s my-” Sanji didn’t even get to finish before you already put the spoon with the broth in your mouth. “I don’t mind.” Your words seemed to resonate with him and by the look of it had a particular effect considering the bloody nose he was trying to hide. For some reason reactions like this, especially from the pretty cook, seemed to boost your confidence quite a bit. It felt nice to know you had such an effect on him, even though most ladies did too.

A moan ripped out of your throat, the broth was rich, the little bit of meat you were able to fish out onto the small spoon was smooth and just right on the fatty side. He did it once again, created something absolutely sense shattering out of almost nothing. Day and night you were proud of Luffy for getting such a capable cook on his crew just so you could selfishly eat only the best dishes in the world.

There was something different about this whole feeling though, you felt warm but not in the sense you usually did with his food. Sanji was capable of making dishes that would decimate the cold stuck to the crew’s bones after every winter striked island. However the warmth you felt soon turned into a flame in your lower belly.

“Is it good?” The cook was still anticipating any kind of review, a compliment maybe, with a shy smile, he was unsuccessfully trying to hide.

“Yeah-,” you were breathless, struggling to comprehend what was happening but you still moved closer to the young cook, “could I get-?” You motioned to the still bubbling pot, the plate and spoon held up for Sanji to take from you.

“Yeah, of course.” He smoothly took the plate and spoon from your hands and in one swift motion filled the plate for you. “I mean, dinner is soon but-” he held the plate for you to take again “, anything for you, sweetheart.”

His words woke up something in you, the flame turning into a blaze in you. This was starting to be embarrassing the more apparent was your state to him but still you tried to hide it. You knew you couldn’t take the plate from him, your hands were too shaky and sweaty, you were afraid the plate would fall to the ground the moment it left his hand. 

Speaking of his hand, had you always been so fascinated with it as much as you were now? You couldn’t help but trace each vein, his strong grip on the white ceramic or the ring he always wore with your eyes. The moment you started shamelessly and openly pant, lapping on the air around you, you knew the illusion of nothing happening was shattered.

 “I feel hot.” Your gaze started to fog over, still you could recognize Sanji’s confused expression. For a moment he stared embarrassed at your face before he turned back to the pot muttering something about spices and if it’s still cooking.

“Is it that spicy? Maybe the herbs contain too much capsaicin.” He was huffing under his breath, angry at himself for serving you something that was not completely perfect. He was sure he tasted it before letting it boil a bit, he was waiting for the taste of each ingredient to combine. However, he truly did not anticipate such a change in flavor, especially such a drastic one.

“No.” There was a certain weight on your chest and drops of sweat started to appear on your skin. But then you finally recognized the feeling.  “That’s not it.” You couldn’t help but clench your thighs together, the feeling too strong to ignore. It was lust all along.

The atmosphere in the kitchen was thick, you knew Sanji saw right through you the way he stared so shamelessly at your chest before quickly looking up at your face. His embarrassment from his failure to deliver tasty dish soon too turned into something completely different.

“It's your problem too, you caused it!” The heat was spreading now, the tips of your fingers were tingling and your head felt like you were standing in a fog. The feeling was overwhelming you, almost paralyzing your brain. Simple thoughts were starting to be hard to produce.

“So do something about it.” It was also starting to be difficult to speak, to think at all and those words were the only thing you could muster enough power to say. You muttered them under your breath anyway. 

“Wha-what?” His eyes, previously and again stuck on your heaving chest, finally met yours, widening at the realization of what you meant. 

“Ok-okay.”

You never thought you would get into such a situation, especially with the cook. It was not like you didn’t find him attractive, he was. Blond shiny hair, muscular back and strong hands, there was nothing you wouldn’t like. You liked him too much on some occasions, just like this one. 

Your throbbing heat was met with another rough thrust of his tongue interrupting your train of thoughts. You could already feel the bruises forming from the way his hands were gripping your hips, where his long fingers were holding you still. The only clothing still on you was your shirt, pushed over your chest with bra already missing, and pants still holding on to the ankle of your right leg, otherwise you were completely bare for the world to see.

Sanji was all over you, he was everywhere. His hot kisses were still present on your skin even with his mouth already preoccupied with your pussy. Your skin sweaty, beads of it rolling down into the now wet sheets, but there was no thought in your head of the uncomfortable feeling of the bed sheets sticking to your skin. 

Your white shirt was pushed up over your breasts, giving Sanji the perfect view he could ever ask for. Seeing your hard nipples and tasting you was heaven on earth for him. Pulling on his hair to the point you were sure you would rip some but you couldn’t stop, he made you feel too good, your next orgasm was quickly approaching. His hands slowly traveled from your bruised hips to now the globes of your ass, gripping between it and halfway on the way to your thighs. He squeezed your skin once again, enjoying the moan it ripped from your throat, he could only smirk.

He could feel your release coming, your walls tightening, pushing his tongue out but he was going to win this battle. Spasm over took your body, squeal leaving your throat. The overstimulation was too much for your body but too little for what was happening to you, you needed more. 

”I got you, don’t worry, sweetheart.” His tongue dived deeper than before, continuing his ministration of your insides. His motion slowly released tension from your muscles until the next spasm hit you again.

Panting, the words you had on your tongue slipped away into darkness. There was no thought in your head and if there was, it was all about how the young cook was making you feel good and how needy you were for the next release. You were completely gone, moaning, squirming wreck in painful ecstasy. Sanji made you see stars just with his mouth. 

There was an intense stare, unmoving from your face that was full of pleasure, he couldn’t simply look away from you. And then you saw it, his own face wrinkled in pleasure. The only thing the young cook needed for his own lust to explode was your own pleasure and you loved it.

But he was not done with you and so was not your body. The moment you came down from your high the heat was already spreading out again, the never ending cycle continued and you begged for another touch from him. 

“More, Sanji-” another moan ripped from your throat when he pushed you thighs over his shoulders, sinking right back into your cunt, devouring you again”- more!” He wanted to bring you close again but his jaw was getting tired. He needed to rethink his approach so he would be able to give you as much pleasure as possible without getting tired too quickly.

“Can I-?” You knew what he meant, you could feel his finger tracing your outer lips, gathering all the slick it could. Your legs pushed even higher, your pants finally slipping from your right foot on to the ground. Slowly pushing one of his fingers in, he moved his mouth to your clit, giving it attention it deserved. 

This was the feeling you needed to graduate your state, to get closer to another release faster. The motion of his finger pushing in and out was increasing in its speed before Sanji slowed down again, earning him another tug on his hair and displeasing grunt from your lips. But it all had a reason, Sanji made sure to kiss your clit before slowly pushing another finger into you. Carefully stretching you out with two fingers he moved his attention back to your clit. One kiss turned into small licks before his mouth was attached to it again, vigorously sucking while he started to pump his fingers into you with no mercy. He could feel your velvet walls tightening once more, almost sucking him in before another loud shout escaped your lips and your body started to tremble.

The young man had to stop for a moment, the white ring that formed around his fingers that were plunging into your cunt completely hypnotized him. Not wholly aware he curled his fingers inside making you squeeze him even harder, another orgasm approaching fast. If heaven exists, Sanji was sure this was his, this was his holy paradise and if it weren’t for the tears, which he was sure was not entirely from how good he made you feel, he would wish for this to never end. But you were in pain and there was no place in Sanji’s world where he would overlook it for his own pleasure.

He already drew two orgasms from you but the ache in your lower belly was not ending. At this point you were sure you were going to die. You were going to die like this writhing sweaty and moaning mess this gorgeous man made you. It’s like he was made to give you pleasure, to make you feel good. Sanji knew exactly where to touch you to weaken the pain in your core. 

With each orgasm given to you, you would think the ache would be substituted only with pleasure. However, there was no exchange, your body still whined for touch, his touch. You couldn’t move, all your energy was drained in the process of your satisfaction. And even though your limbs turned into jelly at least your thoughts started to finally clear with the last silent scream he could push from you. You had enough energy only for the silent scream, the air already left your lungs, leaving you panting once again. However, there is something delicious building up in your belly, toe curling and brain scraping feeling and if your mind could still function you would know this was the big climax and the end to your suffering and pleasure.

One last push just mere seconds later from the end of your last high resulted into another one. This time you were completely spent, exhaustion slowly overtaking you, still you couldn’t help but smile at Sanji who was giving you adoring looks from between his now messy stuck in eyes hair. If it was not the feeling you experienced this evening that you would remember forever, it would definitely be the sight of Sanji on his knees between your legs. 

Soon it was too hard to stay awake, even though you wanted to. You wanted to stare at Sanji while he slowly got up and went for something to clean you up with, you wanted to stare at his blush painted cheeks and sweat stained hair now sticking to his forehead or the way his dress shirt cling to his sweaty chest but your eyes soon shut completely, just like you shut down the world around you and welcomed the needed sleep.

But if you did stay awake you would know how he slowly cleaned you up before pulling the covers over your exhausted self and if you stayed awake even longer it wouldn’t be only your subconscious deciding to catch his hand before he left, tugging at him as if you wanted him to hold you in your sleep. And for one moment Sanji was selfish and did so, he crawled under the covers next to you, wrapping his arms around you and holding you like the most precious treasure. He knew, in the morning he would confess his undying love to you anyway.

Thank you for reading. :)

Bonus??: Sanji didn’t mind he was still painfully hard, from all he had witnessed and done, all it mattered to his stupid mind was that your lust was extinguished for the moment and nothing could change his mind.

Well, maybe except for your slick stained panties laying on the floor right in his line of sight while he was blessed with holding you in his arms.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home, Chapter 2 Part 3

A little shorter this week. I had my graduation ceremony over the weekend and the opportunity to hang out with my sister-in-law for the first time in a few months! (She and my brother moved states a few months back.) If you scroll down a bit, you'll be able to see how I decorated my graduation cap! I love how it turned out.

But you don't care about that. It's Wednesday! Time for a WIP Wednesday segment!

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1k

----------

Unable to get Tim’s attention, Conner asked, “Who’s Technus?”

Danny shrugged. “One of my rogues. Tuck thinks he’s the ghost of Nikolai Tesla. He’s interested in controlling all technology and will make himself a giant mechasuit cannibalized from any electronic he can find in, like, a half mile radius. Super annoying.”

Tim hummed. “You didn’t tell me about him being Nikolai Tesla.”

“It’s a new hypothesis of Tuck’s. He’s been trying to research all the ghosts that come through as part of our profiles on them. That involves trying to figure out who they might’ve been in life. We’re hoping it’ll help me deescalate confrontations to cut back on property damage. Thanks to my parents talking about how evil all ghosts are, no one trusts Phantom and I get blamed for everything.”

Tim reached out and squeezed Danny’s shoulder. Practically everything Danny ever said about his parents made him like them less. To change the subject before he learned something else that’d make him want to attack Jack and Maddie while they were under the same roof, he asked, “So why does ectoplasm harm electronics anyway?”

Danny seemed to lean into his touch. “Well, ectoplasm is complicated. It is generated in this dimension but doesn’t really belong here. It comes about through death and leads the way to the Ghost Zone. At least… that’s the hypothesis I think is the most likely. I’ve only really been studying it for a few months since my own accident, though.” He shook his head. “Anyway! When it interacts with things on Earth that aren’t trying to get to the Zone, things get weird. Especially with non-sentient things that can’t will the ectoplasm to act in a specific way. Even animals can exert some control over ectoplasm. But electronics can’t.”

It was only a few minutes more before Danny had completely disassembled the phone. He then grabbed another pipette and adjusted the volume and added ectoplasm to certain pieces. Then took a third size and did it all over again.

“How on earth did you find out how much to add?” asked Bart. “You’re changing quantities constantly.”

“Trial and error. Long and tedious trial and error. We tried dipping sections in the ectoplasm to start, but that generally fried the tech and mutated its function. Wires do do best with submersion, though. No more than a second or two for small ones. Even after we stopped submersion, we started by adding way too much—spreading it over the entire chip. But that also didn’t work. Realized just half a microliter applied to the connections was best. The camera, speaker, and microphone need more. Those get ten microliters apiece. And we just kept trying different amounts until we had something that worked. We ruined four phones before we started testing each component individually.”

Conner let out a low whistle. “Well we’re glad you have. Thanks for helping with this.”

“Of course. Anything for Tim.”

Tim’s face heated as Cassie laughed. “Yeah, our Tim has a way of winning people over, doesn’t he?”

“I think I won him over, actually.” Danny hung the pipette back up on the holder. “All right, now just to put this baby back together. Who’s hungry?”

“Me!” called Bart. “It’s been ages since we’ve last eaten.”

“You’ve got an accelerated metabolism, right? We’ll stop by a store and get some extra stuff if you need anything overnight or tomorrow.”

“I like you,” said Bart. “You should come with us when we leave. Join our team.”

Tim buried his face in his hands, did none of his teammates know the definition of subtlety? Offering Danny a place with the Teen Titans or Young Justice was the first thing he tried.

“Thanks for the offer, but as I’ve told Tim, I can’t leave Amity. No one else is capable of responding to ghost threats.”

Conner shook his head. “Looks like your parents have it under control.”

Danny laughed. “Oh hell no. They’ve got a lot of inventions and most of them do something. But it’s not always what they expect them to do. And dad’s aim is terrible.” As he spoke, he continued to reassemble Tim’s phone.

Tim couldn’t help but admire how expertly Danny’s fingers moved over the pieces. And before he knew it, Danny was handing the phone back to him.

“Should work now. Turn it on and double check.”

Tim took it and held the power button until the WE logo appeared. Sure enough, once the screen loaded, so did a dozen missed phone calls and even more missed texts.

Bruce, Dick, and Barbara had all attempted contact multiple times. Even Alfred had called once. He winced and immediately called Bruce back.

“Hey, B,” he said as soon as the call connected. “We’re all fine. Just crossed an area that messed with our tech.”

“How did it mess with your tech?” Bruce demanded.

“It’s normal in this area. But I’ve a local friend and he fixed my phone. He’ll take care of Conner’s, Cassie’s, and Bart’s after we grab some dinner. So if anyone else is worried, tell them we’re fine and they can call me in the meantime if they have questions.” Tim made sure to use civilian names so Bruce would know they were no longer in costume.

“Who is this ‘friend’?” asked Bruce.

“God, B, it’s fine. I’ve known him for years. We game online together when we can. Have since we were kids.”

“Hn.” Why was it so much harder to read Bruce over the phone than in person? It was so annoying. “I see. Where are you currently?”

“We’re in Illinois. Will probably stay here a day or two with Danny and his parents. And then we’ll come home and share everything about our trip.” Aka, submit an official report about the outcome of their mission.

“Very well. I expect to know all the details. And I want twice daily check-ins until you’re home.”

“Fine, fine. Will do. Bye, B.” Before Bruce could demand anything else, Tim hung up on him. Next he shot texts to Dick, Alfred, and Barbara assuring them he was fine and his phone was working again. Replies came instantly and he ignored them all. “All right, that’s done. Let’s go eat.”

---------

Next

I think this is the first time I've had an actual scene break to stop the segment at. I usually just go until I see a change in the conversation, but I've got my <hr> marker at this point and there's gonna be a scene change! (So I won't have to repeat a paragraph or two next time I post.)

You get a different explanation for ectoplasm in this fic! Wasn't planning on that, but it happened and I like it.

Hope you enjoyed.

Tag List Part 1

@gremlin-bot, @bonebrokebuddy, @britcision, @lady-time-lord-, @welcometosasakiworld, @akikkobara, @phoenixdemonqueen, @dolfay, @skulld3mort-1fan, @we-ezer, @markus209, @sjrose1216, @onyxlightdragon, @dragonsrequiem, @jesus-camp-the-sequel, @spidey29phangirl, @kyrianclawraith, @evilminji, @introvert-even-on-the-internet, @emergentpanda-blog, @lexdamo, @v-inari, @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit, @longlivethefallen, @undead-essence, @xye-chan, @liandrin, @seraphinedemort, @kisatamao, @schalensitzbucket, @caelestisdreamer, @runfromthemedic, @nutcase8691, @channajen, @tonicmii, @ambiguouslyominous, @vythika96, @addie-lover-of-stories, @ironicvixen, @violetfox2, @pickleking8, @mysticalcomputerdetective, @ark12, @mygood-bitch99, @squirrel-wolf, @satisfactionbroughtmeback, @sometimesthingsfallapart, @automaticsoulharmony, @d4ydr34min9, @revnantdpxdclover, @midigeria, @raginblastocyst

[billlydear]

can you do a fic where Billy gets jealous and argues with his girlfriend but she knows he’s just scared she’ll leave bcoz his dad always tells him it’s his fault his mom left so she doesn’t let him push her away? he deserves someone who’ll stay :’(

POSSESSION - BILLY HARGROVE X READER

word count: 1467 // masterlist | inbox (please request) | WIP list

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

Sometimes, Billy Hargrove has two voices. One is his own, slightly brash, but deep and warm to your ears. The second is more grating, rough and venomous; his father’s. Sometimes Neil Hargrove possesses his son, makes him say things he doesn’t really think, things he doesn’t really mean. And Billy doesn’t get himself back until it’s too late, until the words are out there, sucking the love out of your body from the deep wounds they administered.

From the beginning, you knew he had two voices. One would offer you a ride to the nearby diner after school, and laugh with you over milkshakes, sweet and sugary. And the other would scoff when you asked to braid his hair, ‘I’m not a girl,’.

You knew he was at war with himself. He acted so differently, so conflictingly after a day at school than he did when he drove to your house for a date night, that you were almost certain the issue was with his home environment. In a rare moment of inner peace, he’d told you about his father, and everything clicked into place.

Since then, you’ve been fighting with Neil. Not the physical man that made your boy’s life a living hell, but the one inside his head, the one that tells him he can’t reach for your hand in public, the one who says it’s pussy shit to hold his girlfriend’s pink purse for her.

You’re fighting with him now, or at least, you’re planning to. Billy’s mouth is moving but Neil’s voice is coming out, telling you to get out and go home.

“No, Neil.” You tighten your jaw, standing firm by the bed, “I’m not leaving.”

“The fuck did you call me?” Billy’s eyes go dark, lip curling in a sneer.

“I’m not talking to you,” You inform him, “I’m talking to him. He’s in your head, Billy. I know you don’t want me to leave.”

“Yes I do,” He seethes, “You- You’re being unreasonable!”

“No, I’m not.” You shake your head, sitting on the edge of his bed and watching as he stands by the door like a caged animal, “I’m telling you that I’m allowed to meet with my science partner in the library after class to work on our project, and that nothing romantic will happen between us.”

“You’re going to a dimly-lit, secluded place with another man after school hours! You could just do it in class, or work in the park, with people around.”

“The teacher isn’t giving us class time, and we need it to be quiet or else we won’t be able to focus. The library is the perfect place.”

“Yeah,” Billy scoffs, sounding just as intimidating as his father, “I bet he said that, too. Perfect place to make a move.”

“If he makes a move, I’ll leave.” You reason, watching Billy roll his eyes. He turns for the door, presumably to usher you out or storm off for a smoke break, “Because I leave when I’m upset or uncomfortable. Which is why I’m still here, Billy,” You call out to your boy, desperately hoping he can wrestle his father away and take the wheel, “Because I’m not upset with you for something that your father did to you. I know it’s him, telling you that everyone you love will leave you. But I’m not going to, because I know you don’t want me to. You want me to stay, and I will, Billy. I’ll stay.”

His hand goes slack against the doorknob where it’s half-turned, and he freezes. He turns, only his head, to glance back at you where you’re sitting on the bed, eyes scared and defeated, coated in a layer of tears, “You’ll stay?”

You know he means it double. He wants to know that you’ll stay on his bed, you won’t storm out and tell him never to call you again. But he also wants to know you won’t up and leave for the boy from your science class, that if given the chance, even after you’ve seen the worst of him, you won’t have anyone else.

“I’ll stay,” You repeat, nodding and holding a hand out for him.

He hesitates to take it. You know Neil is fighting, kicking and shouting and hitting and punching. Name-calling, pansy, pussy, good-for-nothing, disappointment. But your boy wins out, hands on the wheel once more, voice restored in his throat, albeit a bit shaky.

“I’m sorry,” He croaks, shuffling over the carpet in his heavy boots to approach you, “I shouldn’t have said all that shit.”

He takes a deep breath before he holds your hand, and you reward him for doing it with a soft brush of your thumb over his skin. You pull, leading him to sit beside you on the bed. He blinks back tears, rapidly so, but they win in the end, and one slips from his eye.

“Fuck,” He hisses, rushing to smear his sleeve against his eye, “I- I don’t know why I was angry at you.”

“It’s because he wants you to be, Billy.” You murmur, rubbing a soft hand over his back, “He wants you to think that you’re some chronic fuck-up. He wants you to think everyone is going to leave you, because he won’t, and then you’ll think he’s good for it. But he’s not good for treating you like this, Billy, for doing this to you. He stays because he has power over you, but I stay because I love you. You know that, right? That I love you?”

“Yeah,” He breathes, nodding where his head is buried in his hands, “I know. And I.. love you, too.”

That’s big for Billy. He’s a show-not-tell kinda guy, because telling hasn’t seemed to matter in the past. He told his mom a thousand times, but she’s not here now, is she? So he shows you, and you know it. He just doesn’t always tell you, and that’s how you know you’ve gotten through to him.

“Let me see your face,” You plead, slipping your hand out of his own to take his cheek, “Please?”

He lets you turn his head, but he can’t look you in the eyes with tears on his face.

You lean in, and when your lips approach his eyes, he shuts them. You press your lips soft, light as a feather, to his eyelids, his wet lashes leaving stains on your skin. There’s a glistening tear beneath his right eye, and you kiss it away for good measure.

When he opens his eyes again, he’s looking at you. He looks at his tears shining on your lips, reaches out to wipe the liquid away, and lets his hand linger on your face.

“I’m sorry I ruined our night.” He repeats, “This was supposed to be nice.”

“It’s okay. It can still be nice, it’s not ruined. Arguing doesn’t ruin things,” You promise Billy, “You apologized, and I know you’re sorry, and I forgive you. So I still want to have a nice night with you.”

He doesn’t have anything to say, not with words, but he nods, bumping his nose against your cheek. It means he wants to have a nice night with you, too.

“What do you wanna do, Billy?” You ask, smiling and chasing his nose with your cheek when he tries pulling away. It means that you’re leaned against him now, and he dares to drop a kiss to the pudge of your cheek.

“Would you, uh..” He hesitates, but powers through, condemning his dad to silence, “Would you read to me?”

You nod, “What book, handsome?”

“Any- I don’t care,” He shakes his head, letting you stand and cross to his very minimal bookshelf, mostly books he’s had to read for school, “I just wanna hear your voice.”

When you settle back in bed it’s with The Crucible, a book that you’re currently reading in English, and that he’s definitely behind on. You sit first, backed up against the wall and slouched slightly, and he lays on his stomach, his head resting on your stomach. His hands wind around your thighs and lock him in place, and his eyes are drifting shut before you’ve even cracked the cover.

Before you can start, he squeezes your thighs, “Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You hum, brushing a hand through his hair to get a stray curl out of his face.

“Thank you. For staying,” He clarifies, speaking into your stomach because he doesn’t know if he can look you in the eye, “And forgiving me.”

“I love you, Billy.” You hope he realizes that that’s your answer, that’s why you stayed, that’s why you forgave him, and you feel him smile into the skin of your stomach through your shirt. You think he got your message, “I’ll always stay.”

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Right This Way

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, age gap, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get lost on a campus on your first day of college and a helpful stranger shows you around.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Note: this is the third of my autumn fics as decided by all of you!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. ���

You’ve leapt over one hurdle for the day but it won’t be the last. Your first lecture is done, but now you have to find your way to the second. Typically, you’d be on your way home. For years, you languished in part-time or sabbatical coverage but now, you have achieved regular faculty status. It might not be the school you hoped for, but these days, a job is a job. 

You gather up your things as the class disburses. A few keeners come down to ask you about the midterm and you assure them it’s only day one. Full details will come soon. In the meantime, they can review the readings schedule. 

You set your phone on the corner of the table as you search for your wireless mouse. You bring your own. You’ve had enough experience with neglected classroom equipment. 

“Hey, Miss,” a deep voice rolls behind you and swings you around. A young man with golden hair, a square jaw, and a letterman jacket stands across the table. He is a factory-issue frat. You had your share of those in your own time as an underclassman; as a professor, they don’t often bother you unless they get an F. “Just wanted to chat about a few things I got this term.” 

“Oh, sure,” you say as you reach for your phone. His eyes follow your hand. His cheek dimples. 

“You on your way to Ford too? We can walk and talk if that’s easier?” He offers. 

You’re not sure if you should take his eagerness as a good sign. At least he is mindful. At first glance, you don’t expect that. 

“Um, if you don’t mind, I have my next class there,” you agree. 

You hike up your bag and black the screen of your phone. You’re a bit embarrassed that he noticed the maps wide open on your phone. You’re still gearing your way around. 

He waits patiently, bouncing in his brown leather Vans as you round the table. “Steve, by the way.” He offers his hand in an overly formal gesture. You know that brand of frat. They put on that gentleman act for the elders. It’s a charm you would’ve fallen for twenty years ago. 

“Nice to meet you, Steve,” you shake his hand then continue to the door. 

He hurries past you and pulls open the door ahead of you. Again, that overly helpful gesture twinges your suspicion. He must be asking for something big. 

“So, I play baseball,” he begins as you set off down the hall. He quickly catches up, walking parallel with you. “And I just got my schedule. I can get coach t give you a call if you need but I’ll be out of town for a few classes...” 

“Right, baseball,” you repeat. You’re not fighting the senate on this one. They prize their start athletes much higher than due dates. “I’m sure we can figure it out. Did you have your schedule with you?” 

“Um, you know what, I don’t have it printed but I can email it,” he says. 

Once more, he opens the door ahead of you. You step out into the early fall sun and descend the steps. It’s a quick conversation, it might be awkward to stick around. 

“That works,” you agree. “I don’t want to keep you so if you want--” 

“Nah, really, I’m headed in your direction,” he insists. “You do know where that is, right?” 

You look at him. His blue eyes gleam. You peer around and shake your head, “that way?” You point. 

He laughs, “no worries, professor, I got you.” 

He puts his hand on your lower back and points in the opposite direction. You turn to move away from his touch. You blame the little club he’s joined in his youthful arrogance. They never do abide by the rules. After all, he is asking for exception, so why wouldn’t he overstep other barriers. 

“So, you must be new,” he intones. 

“Here, yeah,” you confirm. 

“What else do you teach besides Renaissance history?” 

“My specialty is medieval but I’ve taken on various subjects; ancient warfare, Victorian culture,” you rattle off. You know he doesn’t really care. For the jocks, classes are simply an afterthought. “What got you into this subject?” 

“I like art,” he says. “Figured it wouldn’t be a bad elective.” 

“I hope,” you reply. He points you around the curling path. You hesitate. You peeked at the map. This seems wrong but you did find the only dead end on campus earlier. 

“You seem young for a prof,” he says. 

You snort, “I don’t give extra credit for compliments.” 

“I mean it,” he argues. 

“Right,” you huff dryly. “Steve.” 

He smirks as you glance at him, “wow, you got that professor voice down. ‘Steve’.” He mimics your tone and chuckles. You shuffle closer as you pass a group of young girls but he doesn’t seem to notice them. 

“Like I said, it isn’t my first gig. Just new around here.” 

“I think you’ll like it,” he intones. “Nice campus, nice people,” he preens. “A few profs pop by the parties even. Open invitation.” 

It’s your turn to laugh, “oh, I’ve outgrown that.” 

“Classy lady, I’m sure,” he agrees. You’re not sure if he’s complimenting you. “Well, what about back in the day?” He wordlessly gestures you along as he guides you. “You are party girl? Sow your wild oats?” 

“That was a long time ago. It’s probably better left back then,” you deflect. 

“Come on. I won’t judge. I’m a bit of a square myself. I’m the designated tidier. I pick up after all the drunks,” he snorts. 

You hum. You don’t miss those days. Everything was so much more stressful. Not just classes but everything outside of it. Who to hang out with, what to where, where to go. 

You slow as you look around again. You’re behind one of the large gray buildings but not too sure where. It’s a path lined with trees and abstract statues. They’re benches and an engraved stone wall memorial. You don’t see any buildings close by. Maybe it’s one of those at the other end. 

“Told you, it’s a nice campus. Doesn’t seem like you’ve gotten to see much of it,” he says. 

“Not yet,” you agree. 

“It’s a short cut. Trust,” he says. 

You nod and continue on. He turns towards the twisted metal owl and you go with him. You really don’t think he’s going the right way. You sneak your phone out of your pocket and press your thumb to the screen. 

Suddenly, you’re nearly knocked off your feet at he bowls into you. 

“Woah,” he collides with you so hard your phone falls onto the ground. “Shit-- I mean, holy cow. Sorry, miss. I tripped on--” He steadies you with a hand on your shoulder. “Did I--” He looks down at your phone on the stone path. “My bad.” 

He scoops it up before you can and you recoil. Your eyes wander away from him and you examine your surroundings. The trees, the statue, it all blocks you off from the main path in an eerie way. You can hear the bird’s tweeting and the coeds chatting but you can’t see them. 

“Damn,” Steve’s voice draws you back as dread simmers in your stomach. “I think it’s cracked.” 

He walks ahead of you as he examines it. You trail him, “it’s fine. I can take it to the store and have them look--” 

“I’m real sorry, professor,” he cradles the phone between his large hands. “I’m such an oaf. Bet I’m not gonna get that extension now, huh?” 

“Everything’s okay, Steve. You can give me my phone,” you reach for him as he leads you into the shade of a large oak. “What are you doing?” 

He pulls his arm back, aims, and throws your phone. It flies through the air as you gasp and lunge forward. What the hell? 

His arm wraps around you from behind and he swings you back. You cry out but only for a split second before his palm smothers your mouth. He leans his body weight back and brings you down with him into the grass. What is he doing? 

You struggle to get away. You grab at his arm hooked around you and claw at the grass with your other hand. You writhe and try to twist away from him. He follows you, crushing you to the grass beneath him. You wheeze as his weight forces the air from your lungs. 

You flail both arms and sink your fingers into the dirt as you fight to drag yourself from under him. You can’t. He growls as he pulls his arm from under you and grips the back of your skull. He keeps your head twisted on your neck, clamping it between his large hands. 

“Shut up,” he snarls. “Be good for me, professor, and this will all go quickly.” 

You gurgle into his hand as your heart hitches. Why is he doing this? You said yes. You didn’t argue. 

“I’m going to move my hand and you’re going to stay nice and quiet, aren’t you?” 

You try to scream into his palm and he wrenches your head down into the ground. The grass is soft but the impact is enough to make your nose fuzzy. He hushes you. 

“I mean it, alright? Shut your mouth or I’ll fill it with dirt,” he snarls. 

You whimper and nod, puffing against his palm. Your body tenses before you slowly make yourself go limp. You lay your head against his hand and let your arms still. You raise your hands slightly to say, ‘see, I’m good’. 

He huffs and slowly drags his hand away, smearing your spit across your cheek. You sniffle as your eyes prick and you inhale the scent of dirt. You can hardly breathe as your chest throbs and burns. 

“Ah, don’t act so hard up,” he chuckles. “Bet you don’t get a lot of guys these days,” he pushes his knee between both of yours. “Sad, cause you don’t look half bad in this.” 

He tugs your skirt up your legs as he shifts his weight around. The satin tickles your thighs and sends a shiver through you. You close your eyes, your forehead flush to the ground. You liked that skirt so much. You bought it just for your first day. 

The thought stabs into your heart. You push your hands flat to the ground and brace yourself. Denial cords around you as terror clogs your throat. This can’t be happening but it is and all you can do is let it. 

“Mm, not bad,” he rasps as he pushes between your thighs. “Come on, loosen up for me.” 

He moves your slack legs apart and runs his fingers along the cotton of your panties. He purrs as he traces the edges along your ass and back again. He snakes his hand under you and presses against the fabric and feels your folds through the thin layer. 

“I’m so goddamn hard right now, you have no idea,” he says.  

You chuff out air. You try not to hear him, not to feel him. He slips his fingers beneath your panties and rubs your lips. He pets your head as he cooes in your ear. 

“See, I’m being nice. Isn’t that nice? I know you wouldn’t be shaking like that if you didn’t like it.” 

He rubs between your folds roughly as he presses his crotch against your ass. He rocks against you as he teases you. You scrunch your toes tightly as a tingle crawls along your thighs. No, please. You don’t want to feel anything. 

He purrs as he continues to move his pelvis, breathing heavily behind your ear as he growls. He stretches his fingers along your cunt and delves into you. He pushes his hand further and curls his finger through your entrance. 

The heel of his hand brushes against your clit as he moves. You whine as the coil winds around and around and around, tying up your guts in knots. You shudder and bring your hands to your hand, digging your nails into your scalp as you spasm. You cum, slickening his touch as a mortifying moan escapes between your lips. 

He slides his fingers out of you. You groan. Your tears leak out and trickle onto the grass. He trails his hand around, leaving wetness along your shirt. He angles above you, pushing your knees apart with both of his. He splays you and tugs your panties to the crease of your thigh. 

His zipper slices the moment. Your breath cramps in your chest as you hold it in. He guides his tip along your thighs. He feels you quiver, teasing and toying, as he rubs up and down your folds. He slides up by your cheeks and you clench. He laughs and traces back to your entrance. 

He uses his thumb to push his tip through your resistance. You tighten around his intrusion and squeak out your breath. He shushes you and you swallow down a sob. He inches into you, his own exhale flowing over you like a cold storm. 

He sinks in to his limit and you bury your toes into the dirt. You heave as he pulls back and thrusts in again. Your shoulders curl with tension and your spine locks. He pumps again and moans, petting your hair as he falls into a rhythm. 

“God, you’re tight,” he grits. “I heard... well, I guess everyone lies.” 

He runs his hand down the side of your head and beneath your forehead. He forces your head up and nuzzles your hair as he tilts into you. He puffs across your scalp. 

“I didn’t see a ring,” he reaches up to clasp your hand, twining his fingers through yours as he continues to rut. 

He keeps you like that, fucking you harder into the dirt. He lifts his hips, slamming them down so his zipper bites at you. He pounds at you relentlessly, shallow breaths mingling damply in the cool autumn breeze.  

You open your eyes and stare across the grass. Your vision blurs around the tree trunks and wooden benches. Your grief and glazes over and drowns you in horror. 

“Welcome to campus, prof,” he growls between nipping your ear. “Oh... and don’t worry about those missed classes. I didn’t make the team.” 

[typicalopposite]

WIP Wednesday

thank you thank you @bidisasterevankinard for the tag! 🫶🫶🫶

take me back - Tommy amnesia fic - from ch 3

Evan: Hey! Hope you have a great first day back! Be safe! 🙂

Tommy’s heart skips a beat… he said– he said their thing… Be safe / Of course. Like Bobby and Athena’s Home Safe, or Howie and Maddie’s Miss you already / Miss you most or Han and Leias I love you / I know. It floods his brain with memories of what feels like just last week; him telling Evan the same thing when he called to let Tommy know they were going on a pretty serious call. It stabs him in the chest, and tears sting at his eyes that he quickly blinks away because, no… Evan is allowing him a friendship when he doesn’t deserve one. He will not screw it up this early in because he has a giant sack of unresolved emotional baggage that he filled himself. He replies: I will be he hits send, reels at the sting of making it different, then he sends and thank you :) to balance it out.

The messages are instantly read, and Tommy waits for a moment to see if he’ll say anything else. He doesn’t, so Tommy grabs his keys and heads out the door to his truck. The engine roars to life and he turns his music up loud enough to make his ears hurt— from the volume and the fact every song reminds him of Evan— as he drives the miles to Harbor Station. 

He is actually pretty surprised at the effort his team put into their welcome back, complete with a banner and cake. (If Tommy is being honest he is just about cake’d out from his birthday… but he appreciates the gesture… Especially if— unless they changed a lot in the span of last year to now— this isn’t usual for the 217. This is more of the 118’s style of celebration. He’ll take it.) “Thanks everybody,” he says humbly. 

“Good to have you back,” his captain says, shakes his hand then excuses himself to his office. 

He is approached one by one by his other coworkers ending with Lucy. She grins widely at him, and throws her arms around his neck; a gesture he was used to from her… but things are supposedly different between them now, so it’s an unexpected surprise.  

“How’re you feeling?” she asks. Her– usually sharp, ready to give as much sass and shit as she receives among a crew of mostly men– eyes are soft and sincere. 

“Better… I– I guess,” Tommy replies. “Doc said as long as I don’t crack it open again, staples can come out next week.”

“You still don’t know how that happened?” 

Tommy pulls his lips down into a frown and shakes his head. “That garage is a mess… Evan is always– or… was always–” he stops and sighs, running a hand over the back of his neck, wondering if one day talking about Evan will stop hurting. He doubts it’ll be anytime soon. “He always said I needed to organize my stuff better– guess I should have listened.” 

She gives him a sympathetic smile, hooking an arm around his arm and leading him through the hangar. “Well at least you have plenty of paperwork to keep your mind off of… everything, until you’re cleared to get back in the sky!” 

“Oh, great…” He groans at the piles of unorganized files left for him to keep busy while he is on temporary light duty, and drops into his chair to get started. 

Or rather try to get started… except everything reminds him of Evan– of the accident– of what he lost— of how miserable he is. 

Calls where their stations worked together. Calls with people named Evan, or Tommy, or even worse Dylan. Calls involving head injuries, and memory loss, and extreme depression, and anxiety– a call involving a person giving a statement so filled with regret and despair Tommy has to stop what he’s doing and walk outside for some air. 

“You okay?” Lucy asks, sticking her head out of the helicopter she is running a safety check on. 

“Fine…” Tommy lies, still unable to suck in a deep enough breath that it will stop feeling like he’s being suffocated. 

Lucy sighs and turns the helicopter off. She hops down and walks over to him, face determined. “Seriously, Kinard… I’m not saying you have to be an open book; hell you never were, even before— But don’t start shutting everyone out again. We’re a team and if you’re going through it and your mind is not clear it’s not safe– you could get hurt… again. So we’re not going back there, okay?” Tommy slowly lifts his eyes to hers and nods. 

Lucy calls out for Melvin to finish the inspection and she tips her head towards the side of the hangar. They walk down alongside the metal wall towards the water’s edge. She picks up a rock and flicks it out onto the water; it skips three times before dipping under the surface. She glances over at Tommy, giving him the floor to start the conversation. Tommy doesn’t speak and instead repeats her action– picks up a rock and skips it across the lake. Seven skips before it disappears and Lucy scoffs, calling him a show off. 

“I don’t know why I broke up with him…” is Tommy’s reply. 

Lucy stares at him for a second, like she’s trying to formulate a response. “I– I mean… I’m sure once the amnesia–”

“It’s not because of the amnesia, Luce…” Tommy interjects. “I–” He exhales, long and deep. “I don’t know why I broke up with him because I don’t want to break up with him.” She furrows her brows and he continues before she can speak. “Lucy I woke up thinking it was our anniversary. Just a few days before I dumped him, for– for the stupidest reason!”

“Wait, you know the reason?”

“Ye– Yeah. Evan told me.”

“You spoke to Evan?!”

Tommy sighs. “That’s not the point. The point is that I don’t— or— or I didn’t… I still don’t want to not be with him. I– I was ready Lucy. Ready for the next step– granted the next step was telling him I loved him… whereas his was moving me into his loft–”

“Wait…” Lucy pushes forward from where she had been leaning against a tree and starts to pace. “He asked you to move in– into the loft?”

“He did.”

“But you have a house…”

“Yes but– dammit Lucy this is still not the point! I love him! I- I would have said yes. I s- should have said yes! I don’t–” His voice breaks, he covers his face. Then Lucy’s arms are around him, tugging him down to her level, allowing him to hide his face in her shoulder instead. 

No Pressure 🏷️ (even though I know it’s late 🫣) : @30somethingautisticteacher @sunnywithachanceofbi @nine-one-wanton @herrmannhalsteadproduction @judymarch15

@onthewaytosomewhere @lavenderleahy @bangpop91 @hyperfocusthusly @weewookinard

@beanarie @leashybebes @somethingaboutfirefly @silversky9 @bucksxkinard

@sweaters-and-silly @quintessenceofdust88 @sierrarreads @saibowtie @kinardsevan

@unhingedangstaddict @portinastorm @ladyeyrewrites @rubydaiquiri

@mmso-notlikethat @a-mel0n @rdng1230 @fenrirscarsback

(I am so sorry if I missed someone! Let me know if you want to be added or removed)