#falls to the floor in a heap oh my GOD

[eregored]

check to see for yourself tehehehe <3

[comvi]

appreciationes towards you

jolHOLY CRAP. BEEN GOOPED OUHH OUH OUHWGAG AG AG……..

YET ANOTHER GOOTART FORM

[crowsofdarkness]

Eric realizes he has a breeding kink.

18+ CW's below the cut(unprotected p in v, breeding kink, Eric wants to see you round with his baby)

"Shit, Eric. That feels so good," I moaned with my face buried in the pillow.

His grip on my hips was bruising as he thrust deeper into me from behind. I peered over my shoulder so I could get a better look at him and nearly orgasmed at the sight. Sweat gathered at his forehead and over the tattoo's of his chest. The muscles in his arms flexed as he gripped me even tighter while his stomach contracted when his cock pulsed inside of me, a sign that he was close.

"Crow, you're so tight," Eric groaned as he leaned over my back, his lips brushing over the previous bite marks he left there earlier.

I pushed myself farther back into him, needing the head of the cock to slam into that spot. The bed slammed against the wall, legs scraping across the floor, when Eric's pace became faster almost erratic

"Yes, fuck," I panted, my body falling onto the bed in a heap when he finally hit that spot.

His tattooed arm snaked around my stomach to lift me to my knees once again then his hand slithered down to my clit, finger brushing over it. My lips parted, a silent moan falling from them, and I felt my pussy clench against the hardness of his cock when he pulsed inside me.

Shit, he was so close.

"Eric," his name stammered from my lips.

The sex was so good that I was in such a lust filled haze, I almost forgot we had no kind of protection. We didn't mean to have sex tonight but when Eric walked downstairs wearing nothing but those short, black swim trunks so we could go hang out in the hot tub, I threw him onto the couch while straddling his hips. That's where we started, where my swimsuit lay scattered, Eric carried me up the stairs to his room over his shoulder.

"Crow, I'm going to-," his hips stilled for a moment, cock throbbing between the warm confines of my pussy.

"Do it."

When I looked over my shoulder again, I noticed his eyes were so dark, almost black as he bore them into me. His hair was falling into his face but he didn't dare let go of his grip on my hips to brush it back.

"Are you sure?"

His voice was quiet, almost unsure if he heard me right.

I nodded rapidly. "Please Eric, fill me up."

A low, savage, noise came from the back of his throat as his hips moved again, only this time it was in long, slow strokes.

"You'd like that, Crow. You want me to fill you up with my cum?" Eric bit down on my shoulder.

I hissed out in pleasure. "Oh gods, yes. Please."

He hastily pulled out of me only to force me onto my back, the silver chain that hung loosely around his neck now grazing over my nose and mouth. I stared up at him through my lashes and Eric yanked my legs up to my chest, knees pressing deep into my skin.

"Eyes on me," he grunted, slamming his cock into me again.

My screams echoed throughout the tiny room as I kept my eyes directly on him, the bright orange hum of the LED lights in his room cast Eric in such an angelic glow I couldn't help but give him a fond smile.

"I love you," I mused.

"I love you too, crow."He bent his lips down to mine, capturing them in a tender kiss, nothing like the brutal force of his cock. "Now touch yourself and cum on my cock."

Yes, sir.

My fingers shakily brushed over my swollen clit and as the pace of them was messy and hurried, I felt myself crawling closer to my release. Eric could tell because his head fell back, exposing the tattoos on his neck to me, and I attacked them with savage bites followed by soothing licks.

"I can't wait to fill you up and watch your belly get round with my babies," he panted.

Oh, hell yes.

I mewled in response, mouth busy with leaving dark marks across his neck.

"Fuck, you'd look so beautiful pregnant with my kid. Your belly is round and tits-oh shit." Eric's cock twitched inside of me.

"Eric, fuck a baby into me. Please," I brushed my nose along his chin.

It wasn't like we weren't in a great position to have a kid, if something happened from this. We'd been together for years and talked about a future together often.

"Anything for you, crow," Eric groaned, burying his cock deep as his warm cum shot along my walls.

My own orgasm washed over me in waves, his name falling from my lips in a prayer, praising him for giving me what I wanted. He stayed like that for a few long moments, making sure I took every last drop of him before he somehow rolled both of us around so I was lying on his chest, him on his back. The wetness I felt between my legs was almost a new feeling with his cum dripping down my leg and I breathed in the scent of him.

Silence fell between us and as I felt the exhaustion of the long day creep into my bones, I let my eyes flutter shut until Eric's deep voice woke me.

"I never thought the idea of you pregnant would be so fucking hot," he chuckled then brushed a kiss along my forehead.

I giggled while wrapping my arm tighter around him. "I'm honestly surprised it took us this long. We've always talked about having kids."

"I thought we would get married first,” Eric said. 

"When have we ever done anything the traditional way?" I peered up at him with a raised brow.

Eric agreed with a kiss. "Well, if it doesn't work this time we'll have to keep trying."

I patted his chest, a yawn escaping my lips. "Let me get some sleep first."

Two months and many times later, I held up a positive test to Eric, who had the brightest smile plastered over his face.

[wosostories]

Pranks

Prompt: Can you do a uswnt x teen reader, where reader gets hurt when someone pulls a prank on her or something like that?

Sonny pulls Y/N in to the aftermath of a prank and it doesn't go as planned.

You were heading back to your room from a meeting with coach. You had been told that you were going to be starting in tomorrow's game. You were so excited that you didn’t notice Sonnett running down the hallway. 

“Y/N watch out!” She calls out right before she runs into you. You wobble a little but she steadies you before you hit the ground. “Sorry! Got to run.” She is about to take off again down the hallway. “Actually, I could use you.” Sonny grabs your hand and drags you down the hallway behind her. 

“Why are we running? What did you do?” You ask her. 

“There is no reason for the running. I didn't do anything. Why would you even ask that?” Sonny responds. 

“Sonny, get back here!” You hear Kelley yell from down the hallway. 

“Did you prank Kelley?”

“Maybe?”

“Becky told you that you aren’t allowed to drag me into your prank wars. And I think that this constitutes dragging me.”

“I may be dragging you, but this is not a prank war so not breaking Beckys rules.”

You turn a corner and are all of a sudden heading down a set of stairs. Sonnett’s grip around your wrist made it impossible to get out of it without hurting yourself. 

“Can you let me go please. I was on my way to get ready for dinner. I am already running late.”

“You're fine, we can just go to dinner right now.” You are keeping up with Sonny until the final bit on the first floor. You trip over one of the stairs and let out a yelp as you fall down the final few stairs. You fall into Sonny and you both tumble to the ground in a heap. 

“Sonny! Y/N!” Kelley calls from the flight of stairs above you. This draws the attention of some of the other girls who are waiting in the meal room which is next door to the staircase. 

In a second they were at the bottom of the stairs as Sonnett peels herself off the floor. 

“Oh God, Y/N! Are you ok?” You let out a groan clutching your wrist to your chest. 

“Sonnett what did you do?” Becky all but yells. 

“I- I didn’t…” 

Ali came running in with the team doctor. 

“Y/N can you sit up for me?” The medic asked. She helped you into a sitting position leaning up against the wall. She took your hand into her own and started poking it in different spots. 

The rest of the girls turned back to Sonnett and Kelley knowing that you were in good hands. They were berating them as the medic made her assessment. 

You let out a cry and tears start streaming down your face as she continues her assessment. “I think it's broken. We need to get you to the hospital for x-rays and casting.”

“A- am I still going to be able to start tomorrow?” You ask through your tears. All of your teammates went silent waiting for the answer. 

The medic sighed, “It’s not the end of the world, you will have another opportunity to start. You are only 16.” 

“Y/N I’m so sorry.” You shake your head and let the medic help you to your feet. Her and Ali help you out of the hotel to head to the hospital. 

“You’re the one who is going to tell coach why Y/N can’t start tomorrow. And the part you played in it.” Becky told her. 

Sonnett nodded tears in her own eyes, “I hope you think pulling her into the prank was worth it.” Kelley said, walking past her leaving Sonny alone as the team made their way back to the meal room to wait on news of Y/N wrist. 

[hanespiritu]

YOU MAKE ME SICK (SO STAY)

(Diomedes x Odysseus)

written by: Han Espiritu

Disclaimer: story idea from @naphene05

---

Thunder in the camp. Not from Zeus, but from Diomedes throwing open Odysseus’ tent flap so hard it tore off one of the stakes.

“You left me,” Diomedes barked, eyes wild, armor bloodied, his knuckles still clutching the hilt of a sword that looked like it had murdered a dozen men too slowly.

Odysseus didn’t look up. He was sitting cross-legged on a rug, casually eating grapes from a bronze bowl like he hadn’t almost died two hours ago. His lip was split, a gash bled sluggishly down his thigh, and his eyes glittered like poisoned wine.

“Hello to you too, darling.”

“Don’t you darling me. You left me in the dust while the Trojans nearly took my head off.”

“I told you to fall back. Told you. But you get this bloodlust and suddenly forget your own name.”

“I remembered yours when I was about to be gutted.”

Odysseus finally looked at him—slowly, sensually, as if he had all the time in the gods-forsaken world.

“Oh?” he said, licking grape juice from his fingers. “Did you scream it like a prayer or a curse?”

Diomedes threw his sword down. “I swore I’d never crawl back into this tent again.”

“Then walk out,” Odysseus purred. “And take your pretty tantrum with you.”

But Diomedes didn’t move. Of course he didn’t. He stalked closer instead, like a lion with a limp—dangerous, bleeding, seething. Odysseus rose as well, slower, lazier, but his smirk never faded. They stood toe to toe now. Gods, they were always doing this—fighting like foreplay.

“I hate you,” Diomedes said.

“You always say that right before you kiss me,” Odysseus whispered.

“You’re a manipulative, treacherous bastard.”

“And you’re obsessed with me.”

Diomedes grabbed him by the waist and shoved him onto the nearest surface—Odysseus’ war map table. The carved wooden figurines of Achaeans and Trojans went flying. One rolled under the bed.

“You care more about maps than me,” Diomedes growled, straddling his hips.

“Wrong. Maps don’t yell at me for lying.”

“They should.”

“You’re jealous of parchment. That’s pathetic.”

“You’re pathetic.” But Diomedes was already kissing him—brutal, desperate, deep. Their mouths crashed, teeth clashing, breath stolen. It was a war of its own. Odysseus clutched his nape, yanked his hair, bit his lip so hard it bled.

“You kiss like you want to kill me,” he gasped between kisses.

“I do,” Diomedes said, voice dark. “But I want to fuck you more.”

And then they were on the floor. No finesse. No patience. Odysseus’ robe in shreds. Diomedes’ armor half-on, half-off, and somehow that made it hotter. The tent was filled with groans and growls, biting and breathless laughter. Every movement said I despise you, and every kiss said come closer anyway.

Odysseus scratched red down Diomedes’ back.

Diomedes bit his shoulder in retaliation.

“Lover’s quarrel?” someone muttered outside.

“Shut up,” came another voice. “That’s just Diomedes and Odysseus doing their weird thing again.”

Inside, Odysseus arched under him, laughing through the pain. “They think we’re strange.”

“We are strange,” Diomedes muttered, mouth pressed to his jaw. “We’re disgusting.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m divine.”

“You’re a walking curse.”

“And you’re addicted.”

Diomedes pinned his wrists above his head. “Say that again.”

“Addicted.”

Harder. Deeper. Another moan torn from Odysseus’ lips.

“You’re a bastard,” he choked.

“You make me like this,” Diomedes growled. “You and your mouth and your lies and your eyes. You’re everything I hate and everything I want.”

Odysseus whimpered, smiling, already close. “Say it again.”

“I want you.”

“Again.”

“I need you.”

“Louder.”

“I want to fucking marry you, you infuriating son of a—”

Odysseus pulled him down into a kiss that could've made Aphrodite weep.

They collapsed into a heap, gasping, panting, entirely too sweaty. Odysseus curled into Diomedes like a smug cat who just ruined someone's life and was very proud of it.

“Still mad?” he murmured, tracing lazy circles on Diomedes’ arm.

“Yes.”

“You’re cuddling me.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I will burn Troy down and bury you in the rubble.”

“Oh, how romantic,” Odysseus cooed, eyes fluttering. “Put that on our wedding vows.”

“You think I’m joking?”

“I think you're terrified of how much you care.”

Silence.

Then, so quiet it was almost shameful: “You scare me, Odysseus.”

Odysseus blinked.

“I should leave,” Diomedes whispered, eyes on the ceiling. “You make me... unhinged.”

“You make me soft,” Odysseus whispered back. “It’s disgusting. I want to throw up.”

Diomedes looked at him. Really looked.

“Then throw up. On my chest. I don’t care.”

Odysseus laughed, bright and blasphemous. “Gods, you're so in love with me.”

“I should punch you.”

“I should poison your water.”

“I’d drink it.”

“I know you would.”

And they kissed again, this time slower. No fury. No knives. Just raw affection, deep and sick and stupid.

Outside the tent, the war went on.

Inside it, they were already at peace. Or something like it.

---

⚠️ Plagiarism Warning:

This work is original and written by HAN ESPIRITU. Do not copy, repost, or translate without permission. Plagiarizing or claiming this story as your own is strictly prohibited and will be reported.

[zeroxxlhero]

Hello 👋, can u do Vi x Reader. Where Reader finds Vi in the living room and she cuddles with her but she finds her hands in Vi’s sides and Vi giggled a little bit. Reader then smirked and she tickled Vi like crazy and she was laughing like crazy and they fell on the floor. After that, Reader is just admiring her.

Peace • Vi

Warnings: fluff, tickling

Pairings: Vi x You

Fandom: Arcane (League of Legends)

The night was calm, the muffled hum of the city outside fading into the background. You padded softly into the living room, your footsteps barely audible on the wooden floor. Expecting nothing more than a quiet, empty room, you paused mid-step when you saw Vi lounging on the couch. Her head was tilted back against the armrest, her signature pink hair messy from running her fingers through it. She looked relaxed, the dim lighting accentuating her sharp features, though there was a slight furrow of thought in her brows.

"Hey," you said softly, your voice breaking the silence but not startling her. Her blue eyes turned to you, and a smile—small, lazy, and utterly warm—spread across her lips.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asked, her voice low and soothing, as she shifted to make space for you. She patted the spot beside her invitingly.

You moved toward her and sat down, the couch dipping slightly under your weight. As soon as you settled, she draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. You leaned into her, resting your head against her shoulder, and wrapped your arm around her waist. Her scent—a mix of leather, faint smoke, and something distinctly hers—wrapped around you like a comfort blanket.

"You?" you asked, your fingers absentmindedly trailing small patterns along her side.

Vi sighed. "Thinking too much, I guess," she admitted. Her tone was casual, but you knew her well enough to hear the undertone of exhaustion.

For a while, you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, letting the quiet moments stretch and fill the space between you. Your hand, still resting on her side, shifted slightly, brushing against her ribs. That’s when it happened—a tiny, soft giggle escaped her lips.

Your head snapped up. "Was that a giggle?" you asked, your tone light but incredulous.

"No," she said quickly, her voice too defensive to be convincing. A faint flush crept up her neck as she avoided your gaze.

Your grin widened. "Oh my god, Vi, are you—"

"Don’t even think about it," she warned, her eyes narrowing in playful defiance. But it was too late. You’d already moved.

Your hands attacked her sides with relentless precision, fingers tickling her ribs and abdomen as she burst into uncontrollable laughter. Her voice, usually steady and confident, was high-pitched and full of unrestrained joy. She squirmed under your touch, her pink hair falling into her face as she tried and failed to push you away.

"Stop it! Seriously—stop!" she gasped, laughing so hard tears formed at the corners of her eyes. Her words were broken by squeals and hiccups of laughter, a sound so rare and unguarded that it made your heart swell.

"Never!" you declared with a laugh of your own, doubling down on your assault.

In her thrashing, she managed to hook a leg around yours, and the two of you tumbled off the couch. You landed in a heap on the floor, Vi beneath you, still laughing breathlessly. Her cheeks were flushed, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath.

"You're... impossible," she said between gasps, her voice laced with exasperation and affection.

You rested your weight on your elbows, hovering just above her, and took her in. Her hair was splayed out like a halo against the floor, her skin glowing faintly in the moonlight. The way her lips were parted, still curled into a smile, made your breath hitch. For a moment, time seemed to slow, and all you could see, hear, and feel was her.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured, your voice soft but steady.

Her laughter faded, and she blinked up at you, her blue eyes wide and vulnerable. A faint blush spread across her face, and for once, Vi looked almost shy. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, her voice quieter now, tinged with warmth.

You leaned down, brushing a stray strand of pink hair from her face before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Ridiculous for you,” you whispered against her skin, the words carrying all the tenderness you felt.

Vi’s arms wrapped around your back, pulling you down so you were fully pressed against her. "You’re lucky I love you," she teased, though her tone was so soft it made your chest ache.

"Lucky, huh?" you replied, your lips curling into a small smile. "I’d say I’m the luckiest."

She chuckled lightly, shaking her head as she shifted slightly beneath you. The two of you stayed there on the floor, wrapped up in each other, the world outside forgotten. All that mattered was her—her laughter, her warmth, and the way she looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

[formulafanfics13]

Hi!! Could you write something where Lando and Charles are just chilling and their gf comes in, dropping her pants, showing off tattoos she got on her hips of the guys’ initials. Like Charles’ initials on one hip, Lando’s on the other.

The guys just spend the night worshipping her, from head to toe, letting her know they love her so much! Maybe they even get tattoos of their own of each other’s initials on themselves.

inked into us - CL16 & LN4 🔥

Masterlist

Summary: In their shared Monaco penthouse, you surprise Charles and Lando by revealing two new tattoos — their initials, inked delicately on your hipbones. Stunned and overwhelmed, they worship you slowly and intimately, wrecking you with soft chaos and devotion before vowing to get matching tattoos themselves.

Warnings: sexual content, polyamorous relationship (MFM), tattoo kink, oral sex (f receiving, m receiving), praise kink, gentle roughness, emotional vulnerability, group sex, possessive themes, soft dom dynamics, marking kink.

It’s late. Not too late, just that sweet hour where Monaco starts to settle into itself, sky still tinted gold, windows cracked open, wind carrying sea salt and soft engine sounds. The penthouse is dim and quiet, glowing with leftover sun, and Charles is barefoot in the kitchen, half-dancing to some mellow French pop song while sipping water straight from the bottle. Lando’s sprawled across the couch in grey sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, headset off for once, controller on the coffee table, legs kicked out wide like he owns the place.

Which, fine. He does. They both do. And they’re fine like this. Soft. Quiet. Letting the silence breathe. Until the bedroom door clicks open and their girl appears like a goddamn vision, messy hair, tiny top, no bra, unbuttoned jeans hanging low on her hips, skin still flushed from the sun, that mischievous sparkle in her eye like she knows exactly what she’s doing to them.

Lando whistles low under his breath, lazy and hungry. “Fuck me, babe. You tryna kill us?”

Charles straightens, blinking, already smiling. “Why do you look like that?”

She grins, slow and wicked. “Got something to show you.” And without another word, she kicks her jeans off.

They drop to the floor in a lazy heap and her hips twist slightly as she steps out of them, turning just enough to show off the fresh ink glowing on her skin. One hipbone, clean and delicate, with a crisp CL tucked into the curve. The other hip? Bold and playful, a LN right above the bone.

She says nothing. Just stands there in lace underwear, wild hair, full fucking confidence, looking at them like come on then. Fall apart. I dare you. And they do.

“Oh my fucking God,” Lando breathes, sitting up so fast he nearly trips over his own feet.

Charles is already moving. Silent, slow, stunned. He crosses the room like he’s afraid she might disappear. His fingers hover at her hips, not quite touching, lips parted.

“You tattooed us onto you,” he says, voice low, reverent. “You put us on your body.”

She hums. “Felt right.”

Lando’s already on his knees. “You’re unreal,” he mutters, eyes fixed on her skin like it’s scripture. “You’re fucking insane. I’m obsessed with you.”

His hands slide up her thighs, careful to avoid the tattoos. He presses a kiss to the inside of her knee, then her hipbone, then right between the initials. Charles drops to his knees beside him. “You didn’t tell us.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” she says, running her fingers through his curls.

“It is,” Charles murmurs, kissing the other hip, soft and slow. “It’s the best surprise I’ve ever gotten.”

They take their time. Every inch of her is worshipped, savoured, mapped like sacred ground. Charles slides his tongue up her stomach while Lando mouths at her thighs, fingers gripping just hard enough to leave impressions. Their hands roam freely, reverent, in love, cupping her ass, tracing the ink, holding her close like she’s the only thing anchoring them to this fucking planet.

“You’re ours,” Lando mutters, burying his face between her legs, kissing her through the lace. “You’re actually ours.”

“Always,” she whispers, threading her fingers into his hair and tugging gently. “You two have me forever.”

Charles kisses her ribs, his voice hoarse. “That means we have to match now.”

She laughs, breathless. “What?”

He pulls back, eyes dark with devotion. “I want your initials. Somewhere small. Somewhere just for us.”

Lando perks up immediately. “Same. We’ll go tomorrow. I’m dead serious.”

“You’re both insane,” she says, grinning.

“We’re in love,” Charles corrects. “Big difference.”

They keep her standing for as long as she can take it, lips trailing every freckle and stretch mark and patch of warmth, tongue slipping beneath the waistband of her underwear, moans vibrating against her skin like prayers. When her legs start to shake, Lando scoops her up with that boyish little grin, carries her to the bed like she’s made of silk and glass.

They take turns. There’s no rush. No competition. Just soft chaos, Charles’s mouth on her chest, Lando’s fingers inside her, one holding her down while the other pulls her apart. They whisper how proud they are of her. How good she is. How beautiful. How much they love her. How they’ve never belonged to anyone like this before.

Lando comes in her mouth while Charles fingers her through another orgasm. Then they swap. Charles fucks her slow and deep while Lando strokes her hair and tells her how perfect she looks all wrecked like that. She falls asleep between them. Arms tangled, thighs sticky, tattoos red and glowing.

And the next day? They go to the same artist. Charles gets her initials behind his ear, hidden in the curls of his hair. Lando gets hers on his ring finger. No explanation. No hesitation. They get each other’s too. Just to be ridiculous. Just to make sure they’re all tied together for real.

CL. LN. Her.

Forever.

[teddynivvy]

kinktober day 15 - hate fucking with ted nivison

warnings: you and ted are exes, smoking, afab!reader

seeing ted across the crowded room at one of schlatt's parties was not particularly surprising, given that you still had tons of mutual friends, and refused to miss a good party. when you spotted him though, you held eye contact, watching his eyes fall up and down your body before he went back to flirting with the girl in front of him. you rolled your eyes, grabbing your solo cup off the counter, before heading outside to the patio.

the air was cold, given it was mid-october, and the smoke you pulled from your cigarette blew into the wind. your nipples were showing through your tight t-shirt, and you barely looked up when you heard the patio door open and shut behind you. it wasn't until you felt his presence that you realized it was ted, reaching for the cigarette between your fingers. "why are you here?" you asked, yanking it back from him, and putting it between your lips. you leaned on the railing, noticing his presence above you, as he blew the smoke out. "why wouldn't i be here? schlatt's my best friend, if you remember."

you scoffed at him before handing him the rest of the cig, pushing past to go into the crowded apartment. "well, have fun with your new toy over there," you motioned to the girl ted had left in the corner, staring down into her drink. "seems you moved on."

you felt ted's hand around your wrist, pulling you towards him. "can we talk about this somewhere else? before you piss me off?" ted rarely got mad, hardly even annoyed, so you were a little surprised at his tone.

he pulled you up the stairs into schlatt's bedroom, closing the door behind him. he had a rather imposing presence, as you felt the backs of your knees hit the soft mattress below you. "what do you want, ted? you broke up with me, remember..." you sighed, looking up at him. his large hand came down to cup your face, before pulling you in for an aggressive kiss. you pulled away immediately, your hand coming to his chest to push him away. "fuck you," you spat. "leave me alone. i fucking hate you."

the way you were looking at him only made him more brazen, as his lips crashed into yours. the sweet taste of cigarettes and tequila felt like home, as you let it get the better of you and collapsed onto the mattress. within seconds, your clothes were in a heap on the floor, your ankles hooked around ted's waist as he pawed at the flesh of your ass.

"i thought you hated me," he laughed, positioning his cock at your ready entrance. you rolled your eyes, laughing to yourself, before pressing your foreheads together. "i fucking do, you're the worst," you laughed, before a pathetic whimper left your lips. his cock filled you up in the most perfect way, as he latched onto the side of your neck to suck a deep purple hickey into the sensitive skin there.

"oh, god," you breathed out, trying to fight the orgasm that was building quickly. one thing about ted was that he always knew the exact right spot to rut against you so that your clit was getting the perfect amount of friction, leading you immediately to the most perfect orgasms. a sharp sting of his ringed hand on your ass made you yelp, his chain dangling in your face, as he looked down at you. you could still make out his soft brown eyes in the dim light, pink lips that you missed kissing, and it almost made you miss him.

"can i come in you?" he asked, softly, before kissing the soft underside of your jaw. your eyes were hazy, orgasm coming quickly, and you couldn't help but yearn to feel him fill you up one more time. "y-yeah, fuck, just don't stop doing that. please." you kept him close in as he kept his punishing pace, your climax coming at the same time as his, while your lips connected in a passionate kiss. your hands found his hair, tugging on it lightly as you moaned his name into his mouth over and over, feeling his warm cum spill inside of you.

while you came down together and caught your breath, you didn't know what to do. the man that had broken your heart only a few months prior laid next to you, soft pink cheeks and the same goofy smile you fell in love with, and you felt conflicted. when his warm brown eyes met yours, and he interlocked his fingers with yours once more, you felt yourself smile. "do you still hate me?" a giggle escaped your lips. "a little. we might have to do that a few more times."

[bunji-enthusiast]

Hi hello! Idk if your request is currently open or not, but I'd like to request a fic where the Reader is a member of the Smiling Critters, they're still alive due to Catnap's fondness of them. They're on his side but hate it, only doing it in exchange that Dogday wouldn't get hurt.

With Catnap's permission, they would visit Dogday and give him whatever food they could find ( let's say Catnap still has some fondness for Dogday inside of him ) but with limitations.

You can change the idea into how you prefer! Thank you in advance :D

Ps. Mind adding a scene where Dogday calls the Reader " Angel " and reminisces about Catnap's fondness for both of them? I hope it makes sense, I just melt seeing Dogday calling us Angel :'D

Here We Stay

Note || KSJSJSJD I loved writing this, everything makes sense :D My apologies I took so long to write this! Kinda short too but UUHHHHH-

WC || 1,176

Sypnosis || being a member of the Smiling Critters meant you would’ve died one way or another, but you didn’t. Now all you can do is hope for the best.

One of the worst possible things could be corporate greed, even just having good intentions yet the worst execution is a plausible answer. Just how could you be forced into this situation? Trying to make things worth Catnap’s while is harsh, the only reason you knew you were alive right now was merely because he was particularly fond of you and DogDay alike. He wasn’t the same after the fact the Prototype’s reign began, you weren’t aware of much yourself, so all of this was just plain scary to you.

All your friends just disappeared and died, some of which you didn’t know was happening. You only got all that information because of DogDay.

You hated the circumstance he was put in, it seemed so painful for one’s legs to be severed and just hung up there the way he is now.

Repeatedly however, DogDay has assured you he didn’t mind being like this so long as you were in good health. He couldn’t bear knowing he wouldn’t be able to do a single thing for one of the only friends he has left. So many of his friends were gone already, DogDay would elect to die for you if it meant you would live.

Truth be told, you had only exchanged the peace you had before so that DogDay would not get hurt anymore then he already has. Catnap had full will and the power to completely end your life otherwise, you just were scared. 

Sometimes when you could, you would take a look at the broken clock that had somehow still worked like normal–and think about what time it would be in the day–Is it nighttime? How about daytime. Oh how you wished you weren’t subject to things the way they are now, all because of the wretched rules of humans and even the abject rulings of the Prototype himself.

Why would Catnap even view that silly toy as a god anyway? Perhaps that was for him to know, and for you to find out. Once, your life isn’t in any danger any longer. Just maybe it will be possibly any hour now, one can only hope. 

Trying to scrounge the Factory for any possible food was getting harder and harder every hour, one could argue it may be the stupid little mice stealing those last precious crumbs away. You would argue it would be the little Wuggies, those small toys were objectively brisk–and limpid too (colors so closely related within the walls of the factory, you forget sometimes they are even there).

You try hard to not forget where you are, in order to get back to DogDay with food for him. That was the only reason you were even anywhere else and away from your sunny friend, you would still be close to him any chance you get on account of Catnap’s permission. 

You wished otherwise.

“Ugh!” Groaning, you step over the possible weak spots that would have you falling through the floor. “There has to be food around here somewhere..” You mention, notioning to the fact you had now stepped into an office. There would be bound to be food here!

With an ounce of hope, you began scrounging the office for any possible heaps of food that you find. Ruffling through any drawers and papers, this office seemed to be a mess. You paid no mind to the messes anyway, there are bound to be messes since the last ten years in Playtime Co. 

“Success! Haha!” You triumphantly hold a bundle of donuts in your hand, “Take that Hour of Joy!” 

Winding down from your self inflated permeated success, you began making your way back to DogDay. You’d have to speak to Catnap to get to him first unfortunately, you always hated this part. Nonetheless, it was necessary.

You picked up the phone, already dialing Catnap to inform him of current conditions. You carefully had curated your words, you always did this when you spoke to him which ever way.

His deep voice rumbled soundly in your ears, “Food, for him?” 

“Yes.” You silently groan, kicking a benign rock stubble as you stand around while awaiting his confirmation. Why the hell was he so scary to you? Though, Catnap’s voice was oddly reassuring when he spoke without malcontent. For a moment, there was a long pause. 

You swore you could hear someone screaming and pleading to the giant purple cat; you felt bad for the unlucky victim that had crossed paths with Catnap.

“...” Then the phone hung up, you sighed a breath of relief that you could visit DogDay. Many things you would do for him just aside visiting, was having to loop in Catnap on whatever the contents of the material you would bring in hand with you. You knew the cat well enough his pause of silence meant yes. 

Well, you can go now at least. You don’t even want to recount the last time you had brought something to DogDay without telling Catnap. 

You stepped over the rubble that had led up to the heretic altar, you recognize he is one of the many dubbed a heretic, you truly wished he wasn’t in so much pain this way. Though immediately another thought crossed your mind.

This hallway needed some serious cleaning up to do.

A strained voice pulled you from your thoughts, “You didn’t have to bring anything my friend.” DogDay was being positive about you as per usual, you sighed as you stepped up to him then sat down as your legs were weary and tired. 

“DogDay we are friends, I’d do anything for you.” You motion, taking out a donut so you could feed it to him. Though in a rare few circumstances you were allowed to free DogDay’s hands so he could eat himself. Unfortunately it was not one of those circumstances. He took a willing bite, chewing it up as he savored it. 

For a moment, he wasn’t sure how to articulate anything, “Do you, remember how he was before… Angel?” DogDay was still mournfully thinking about Catnap’s old self, which he had every right to do. Knowing someone for as long as you would, then that someone changing so drastically–especially not in a good way–can be startling. 

You fed him another bite of the donut you held in your hand, “How could I forget? He was quite silent, sure enough. But he was always considering each and every one of us.” You nod with a tilted head. Oh, if you had the chance to turn back the clock and change things, you would’ve done it all in a heartbeat. 

Sincerely, you were scared. Scared for Catnap, scared for DogDay. All your possibly living friends you know are still alive. 

You grin slightly, wanting to alleviate the conversation and change the subject, “You might need a cleaning.” DogDay couldn’t help but bark–reminiscent of laughter–at your words. He shifted himself noticeably, most likely to bear the weight from one end to another. And remove the discomfort for a little bit before it would dare come back. 

“You may be right, my angel.”

"One can only hope."

[bamboobooshark]

“More Dad!/CG logan fics” we all say in unison! (Please and ty :)) im so obsessed with how cute they are 🥹)

LOGAN HOWLETT X LITTLE!READER

⋆｡𖦹°‧🎞️ GOOD AS NEW : 905 WRDS

<RATING: PG, MINOR SCRATCH/BLOOD MENTION>

A/N : Here’s another CG!/Dad!Logan fic with some inspiration from cloudbug08, and a request from an Anonny (THANK U SM FOR THE REQUEST 💗) I love bug’s headcanons for CG!Logan heaps, so I included his headcanon of Logan calling you kit :] !!Warning for a minor injury (knee scrape) and a few mentions of blood!!

You and Logan were strolling hand in hand through Walmart. He decided to let you pick out a new stuffie since you haven’t been misbehaving all week. You squeeze Logan’s hand in excitement causing him to chuckle under his breath and smile. The second you spot the section of the store that holds the stuffed animals, you squeal with excitement and run over to the aisle while pulling on Logan’s hand. “C’mon, papa! I wanna get a stuffie! Hurry,” you whine while pulling on his hand. He sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry, bub. I’m trying to stay up with you, but you’ve got too much energy for me to keep up with,” he says. You pout at him, letting go of his hand to cross your arms against your chest. He raises his eyebrows while giving you a look that tells you to watch yourself. “Hey now, kid. Don’t get pouty on me. You gotta remember we’re only here because you behaved all week. That could change right now if you don’t drop it,” he says with a gentle voice that still gets the point across. You immediately quit pouting, dropping your arms to your side and reattaching yourself to Logan. “That’s my little kit,” he coos as he brings his hand up to your head and cups your jaw in his palm. You let out a small chirp from his praises, always accepting the sweet words. “Now let’s get you a new friend,” he says, petting the back of your head and walking over to the aisle filled with soft toys.

You and Logan are on his motorcycle now, making your way home. Your new stuffie is secured tightly in your backpack. Your arms squeeze tightly around Logan’s waist. Your body presses against the leather of his bomber jacket, the strong scent of it filling your senses greatly. Your helmet presses against his back while your knees press into him. “We’re almost home, bubs,” he tells you while waiting for the light you’re at to turn green. You nod against him to let you know you heard him.

The two of you arrive home shortly after, Logan pulling into the garage and parking his bike. He gets off first, shaking his head and fixing his hair. He takes your helmet off and smiles at you. “Look at that smile. God, you are too cute,” he compliments while holding out his hand for you to hold. You giggle from his compliment and take his hand. Unfortunately, you trip over your own feet, falling and scraping your knee. From your position on the floor you look up at Logan. “Papa,” you whine as tears brim in your eyes. Logan bites the inside of his cheek and scoops you into his arms. “Oh, baby. Please don’t cry. It’s alright. You’re alright. Just breathe for me, kid,” he pleads before peppering your face with kisses. Your tears stream out of your eyes against your will. Your wrists press against your eyelids as you try your best to wipe away the tears. “Sorry papa,” you mumble pitifully. Logan begins to carry you inside while reassuring you that everything’s okay, you did nothing wrong, you have nothing to apologize for.

He sets you down on the couch and looks you over, kneeling to check for any damage done caused by the trip. “Are you hurt, kid? I need you to use your words so papa can help you,” he says while softly pressing his hands against you. “My knee hurts. I think I scratched it,” you hiccup through tears. He nods and moves his hand to your knee, moving the fabric away from your skin. “Awe. You poor thing,” he says at your knee, kissing to slightly scratched flesh. “We gotta patch you up so you don’t get a yucky infection,” he tells you. He pats your thigh before getting up and going to the bathroom so he can clean you up.

He returns with some cotton balls, rubbing alcohol, and a piece of candy. “Let’s get you cleaned up, kiddo,” he says with a grunt as he settles onto the ground again. You hold you new stuffie tightly in your arms while biting your lip anxiously in anticipation of pain, watching Logan put some rubbing alcohol onto a cotton ball. “This is gonna sting a little bit,” he warns. He offers his hand to you and you quickly take it. Despite the fact you’re squeezing his hand so hard that your knuckles turn white, he keeps a straight face. He pats the cotton ball against the slightly bloodied skin causing you to whimper in pain. “Papa,” you whine softly as your tears come back to run down your cheeks. “I know, bub. I know. You got this. You’re my brave little kit, ain’t ya,” he asks with a soft smile, squeezing your hand softly. You continue to cry and nod your head in agreement to his question. Before you know it, he’s done cleaning up your knee. It looks so much better; less red and no longer bleeding. He smiles up at you as you pull him against you tightly. He chuckles as his face is squished against your stomach, feeling his heart melt from the affection. “Good as new, kit. Good as new,” he says, wrapping his arms around you and allowing you to mess with his hair and show your thanks with physical love.

[joekitsu]

Thinking about vamp superbat got me kicking my feet and shi frfr let's do drabble time

"Oh, sweetheart."

The rustle of heavy curtains was the only indication of Clark's arrival, Blue-red clad figure forming in the bedroom like an omen. His bright blue gaze caught on the form quivering on the bed, all wrapped up in blankets and self imposed agony. Only a tuft of black hair was visible from under the blanket heap, weary little sighs and gasps of pain audible only to the ears of a god.

"Alfred told me you haven't drunk anything this week."

Clark's feet didn't touch the floor as he moved to the side of the bed, strong arms reaching over to pull the cold body from under his hiding spot. With minimum struggle, Bruce emerged from the heap, gemstone eyes glazed over in a cloud of hunger and face twisted in a pained grimace. Clark could only huff in bemusement at his stubborn lover, so against his own happiness, so rebellious in seeking comfort.

Seating himself on the bed, Clark pulled Bruce’s body into his lap, holding his cold, cold wrists in his own bigger hands. The pulse under that pale skin did not jump, his body temperature did not change, nothing seemed to show how the proximity affected him.

Except for the flush high on his cheeks, ruby red against the moon-pale skin of his face, cold blood flowing like smears of lipstick across his lover's visage. The Red went deeper, unfading, down his chin, down his neck and into his unbeating chest. His lover did not sweat, he did not breathe heavily, he did not cry out. He only coloured himself in hues of red for him. Let his vision cloud in mercury silver for him.

"You should've asked me earlier. Why didn't you ask me? You know I would've-"

"I know." A quiet, barely audible voice drifted in the air. "I know you would've let me. I can't ask that of you."

A moment of hesitance followed by impulse; Clark pushed Bruce into the crook of his neck, right against where the carotids would be, a river of warm lifeblood ripe for the taking. Bruce gasped, sub-audible for anyone who wasn't Clark, mouth falling open as his fangs outgrew their holdings. Saliva dripped from petal-soft lips, harsh panting breaths hitting impenetrable skin, teasing something that would never happen. A deep flash of disappointment curled in Clark's guts at that thought; what he wouldn't give to have Bruce sink his fangs into his neck, his wrist, his body.

"Clark- Clark please-"

"I know Bruce, I know."

It was a torturous tease for them both, for those fangs could not dig into where they wanted to, couldn't bring forth a gushing fountain of sun-blessed sustenance from his most vulnerable spot. The smell of ozone, petrichor and bergamot settled like molasses over Bruce's tongue, thick and heady over the copper iron of fresh flowing blood. A hint of a pink tongue traced over the artery, dragged over the sun warmed skin, hoping, praying for the faintest taste after a week of starvation.

Clark broke first; he always would, Bruce was simply too in-control of himself to succumb to his desires. The Son of Krypton had never had enough patience for teasing. Wide palms spread over Bruce's flanks, his thighs, his back, caressing and pulling the man away from his neck. He ignored the tiny whine with all his might, holding the vampire at half an arm's length. He took a moment to admire the sight in front of him; gleaming silver irises barely visible around dilated pupils, lipstick smear blush over aristocratic cheeks, inky strands of hair falling over his face like tendrils of the darkness he so loved, flashing fangs in an open petal mouth panting and calling for mercy, calling some iteration of his name.

His moon kissed deity, this nighttime prince in front of him shivered with every passing moment they shared space, shared air, breaths leaving one to enter the other. For a moment, Clark felt like the ravenous blood-craving beast of the two of them, aching to be one with Bruce, aching to fit himself into the cavities of his heart, aching to just be.

This must be what Adam saw in Eve. This must be what God saw in man, his own imperfect image.

A sharp sting, self infliction of teeth and warm Crimson beaded on his cracked lips. He watched Bruce’s eyes grow impossibly wider, lips quivering with the urge to surge forth and partake. He could feel the tremors where he held him, the clench of supple thighs on his own, the tremble of his muscles as he held himself perfectly still, even now waiting for permission. As if Clark wasn't already his, as if he didn't already hold his entire being in those willowy palms of his. As if he wasn't a dog brought to heel with a single damn word.

"Kal El."

Temptation made flesh; the beasts long for their feast.

"Drink, beloved."

Lips crashed together, a debauched show of adoration. There was no finesse, no technique. Only ravenous, ravenous hunger. They found rapture in each other's mouths and they swallowed down the essence greedily. Carnal desire spilled from their skin, furthering the flames of affection and devotion.

Tomorrow, they would each go their own ways. The Man of Steel to his gleaming skyscrapers and the edge of the world; the Dark Knight to the embrace of the night and Gotham's violent waters. Bruce would yet again deny himself satisfaction. Clark would once again push till he gave in. Tomorrow, they would wake in each other's embrace dreaming of sweet rapture.

Tonight, tonight they were one.

@murmeloni I hope this is to your liking 🤭

@cheriecelestial come get your food

[twowaywardorphansjournal]

Undone, Part 2

Lyric Inspiration: "We're like fire and gasoline, I'm no good for you, you're no good for me." - Tomorrow, Chris Young

Summary: Glad to be rid of Dean, you respond to the request for someone else to join you for the evening.

Content: Season 10, Demon!Dean, drinking, drugs/drugging, fighting

Note: I was trying to finish this in 2, but I was getting to a point where there was still too much to be said still, so I'm gonna do this one in 3.

Read Part 1 here

*****************************************************************

He was a study in colors; golden brown skin, the kind where you couldn’t tell whether it was genetic or just a really good tan. He had rich, hazel eyes that instantly warmed something deep within you. You couldn’t tell in the dimness if his hair would be considered blonde or brown, but it was that perfect length where you could run your hands through it and savor how soft it was. He shifted beneath your gaze.

“Soooo,” he sang quietly, drawing out the word, “can I?”

“Oh god, yes, I’m sorry!” You beckoned to the empty chair across from you.

“I’m not normally so forward,” he continued as he climbed into the chair, “I just couldn’t believe a pretty girl like you was sitting all by her lonesome.”

“I was just...” You paused, not sure what to say next. He tilted his head. “Waiting on a friend to join me, but I’m not sure if she’s gonna be able to make it.” You took a sip of your drink, trying to swallow your lie.

“Her loss is my gain, then.” He smiled and you felt something heavier than butterflies in your stomach.

You spent the next thirty minutes chatting and laughing together. His name was Eric, and he was from a little farther East making his way to visit some friends. He asked genuine questions, refilled your drink without asking, and kept his eyes level without slipping a peak at your cleavage. In your peripheral you saw Dean walk past a good distance away and you were having such a good time you didn’t even care to remember how mad you were at him.

After a story about his dog trying to carry a stick twice the size of her, you excused yourself to use the restroom. One minute you were thinking about how your night had actually turned around. The next, the entire bathroom stall began to spin. You put a hand out, lurching when you didn’t touch the wall like you thought you were going to. You tried closing your eyes, but you still felt like you were being swung around. Somehow you were able to get to your feet and pull up your underwear and leggings.

That asshole drugged me, you thought bitterly as you realized this was more than just alcohol.

Deciding it wasn’t a good idea to cut across the larger stall, you hugged the wall and slowly inched your way around the perimeter. You had left your phone at the table, but maybe if you could make it out of the bathroom you could find someone to help you.

The stall door proved challenging, but eventually you finagled it open. Your legs were starting to feel like lead weights, and what would have been a short walk to the exit seemed like it was going to take an hour at this rate. A wave of nausea washed over you, followed by another round of vertigo, and you lost your balance and stumbled into the wall. You winced as your shoulder took the brunt of the fall, giving your legs the final excuse they needed to fail, and you slid the rest of the way to the floor.

The restroom door exploded open, revealing two men that crashed into the wall. Through your blurred eyesight, you saw that Eric was pressed up against the tile, trying to push Dean off him. Dean was clearly stronger and with both his hands grabbed Eric shoulders and shoved him backwards with a loud crack. He repeated the motion and Eric’s head fell forward limply, his eyes falling shut.

Your consciousness was dimming. Dean seemed to finally see you sitting on the ground, your legs splayed under you and let Eric collapse into a heap on the floor as he came to your side. He was saying something you couldn’t understand, and as hard as you tried to fight it, blackness finally consumed you and you slumped over onto Dean.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

When you came to, the first thing you heard was laughter. Blearily, you opened your eyes. The room was dim, a set of gray curtains trying to contain what must have been an overhead light outside. Most of the brightness in the motel room came from the TV, which was playing an episode of The Three Stooges. Dean sat on the full-sized bed next to yours, an open bag of chips next to him and a beer in his hand.

You felt like someone had pinned your entire body under a line of bricks, but you were desperate for something to wash out the awful taste in your mouth. Groaning softly, you started to sit up. Dean’s eyes followed your movement.

“You okay?” He asked gruffly.

“Do I look okay?” You spat at him after a beat. You debated asking him to get you some water but seeing as he had directed his attention back to the TV, you figured he couldn’t be bothered. Then you saw the cup sitting on the table between the beds next to two pain relievers.

“I wouldn’t stand just yet.” Dean muttered, not looking at you. “Give your body time to adjust.”

“Thank you for the water,” You mumbled, grasping the cup to take a sip. He crunched on a handful of chips in response. You sighed and rolled your eyes.

After a couple more minutes, the credits started to roll, and the TV clicked off. Though there was still some light from the window, the room was cast into shadows. Dean sat on the edge of his bed and flicked on the lamp. For just a moment, you caught something in his gaze that you couldn’t quite place, but then he ran a hand through his hair and it was gone.

“How did you end up fighting Eric?” You questioned. Parts of the night were still hazy, but seeing them in the doorway of the restroom and Eric’s head colliding with the tiled wall was hard to forget.

“I thought I saw him slip something in your drink at the bar, so I stuck around to watch him. When you went to the bathroom, he waited a few minutes and then got up and camped out in front like he was expecting you to come stumbling out. Or he was gonna lock you inside, I’m not sure, I punched him before he could do either.”

“He was probably gonna play hero and make a show of taking the drunk girl home.” You took another sip of water as acid curled in your stomach. “No one would think twice.”

Dean’s eyes flashed and he clenched his jaw. Seeing him angry on your behalf was a surprise.

“Did you happen to get my phone? I need to call for a ride or something. I-”

“You’re not going anywhere tonight.” Dean cut you off, his tone icy. “We can swing by the bar later and get it.”

“I can’t just fall off the face of the Earth for the night, Dean.” You gave him a pointed look.

“Then use mine.” He didn’t waver under your gaze. “It’s 3am, the bar is closed.”

You blanched, darting your eyes to look at the clock that you hadn’t paid attention to before. Sure enough, it was 3:34. You mentally cursed that you didn’t have anyone’s number memorized, because the thought of spending the rest of the night alone with Dean was about as appealing as a paper cut.

“I’m gonna shower,” you announced sullenly. Dean watched you stand. There was definite shaking in your legs that you fought to hide from him. You made it about seven steps around the bed before you tripped on nothing, stumbling into the wall and catching yourself before you completely fell over. When you looked up, Dean was on his feet.

“I don’t think…” he started.

“No, don’t say it, I’m showering.” You argued. “I feel disgusting.”

“You can barely walk!”

Ignoring him, you continued into the bathroom, hoping Dean didn’t notice that you kept a hand out for support. You flipped on the light and shut the door. Just as you lifted the hem of your dress up and over your stomach, the door swung open again.

“Hey!” You shrieked, clutching your upturned dress to your chest and taking a small step back.  

“If you’re gonna be stubborn, then you’re getting help.” Dean let himself into the small space and closed the door again. He began to strip without another word.

“Oh, hell no.” You muttered.

Dean stilled, his pants around his ankles, and looked at you. You felt your face flush.

“Sweetheart, I’m done with these games. It’s nothing I haven’t seen and I’m not letting you crack your head open.”

You opened your mouth, but no valid argument came out. After a couple seconds Dean smirked and finished removing his boxers. Knowing that you were past the point of no return now, you pulled off your dress and turned to start up the water.

Even though you told yourself not to have wandering eyes, you couldn’t help sneaking glances at Dean’s physique as you both entered the shower. It brought back memories of the last few nights. You tried to remind yourself that you were still pissed at him, but after everything that had happened with Eric, you were talking yourself in circles.

Dean kept his distance at the back of the basin while you ducked under the running water facing away from him. You weren’t going to share that your legs felt like jelly, and you secretly were glad that he was here in case something did happen. You made quick work of using the detergents provided to clean yourself up. Just as you finished rinsing your shoulders of the body wash, you felt his hand grip your arm in a silent question. You bit your lip, weighing your options.

*********************************************************

Part 3

[theartistisme43]

TW: GUNS AND VIOLENCE

Chapter One: The Worst Can Happen Faster Than A…

BANG!

The sudden sound of a gunshot and a thud filled SMG3’s already ringing ears, cutting through his unresponsive state like a knife as it brought him back to reality hard.

His crimson eyes refocused, and widened as they were downcast towards his feet, his feet that were speckled with red… Not red, he realized, blood…

SMG3 followed the peppered liquid with his eyes, from his shoes, to the floor… to…

…

SMG4…

The blue meme guardian’s back was against the kitchen counter, tomato soop laying in a heap next to his foot. 4’s terrified yet bloodshot eyes pierced into 3, quiet sounds of pain escaping him as an ugly bullet wound was buried deep in his upper right pectoral, right where his shoulder and torso met. His overalls were ruined now, the right strap being damaged by the gunshot as well.

SMG4 couldn’t bring himself to say anything as the adrenaline was wearing off…

The clicking of metal distracted SMG3, and his own terrified eyes looked down to see a smoking gun in his hands. A sharp gasp escaped him as he dropped it to the floor with a clatter.

Nausea and panic overcame SMG3 as he realized what he had done, he truly, actually, shot his ex rival. It wasn’t a nightmare, it was real, and SMG4’s blood caked his hands.

4’s glazed eyes slowly looked past him, at something behind him… 3 didn’t turn around, he couldn’t bring himself to.

A horrible sound came from his throat as he tried to force himself to speak, only managing a few sharp breaths before he finally used his voice.

“…M-m…ario…”

That was it, and 4 finally passed out, falling onto the ground as blood leaked onto it from his wound.

When he did, SMG3 somehow got himself to turn, looking back to see the shocked face of Mario, that face quickly turning into one of devastation.

“SMG4!!” Mario screamed out, with more emotion than 3 had ever heard from him.

The plumber in red quickly ran to his friend, kneeling beside him as 4’s blood stained his gloves as he brought him close.

“Wh-what happened?! Who did this to you?!” Mario cried out, soon being shocked into silence as his eyes were laid upon the gun next to 3’s foot.

Those eyes that were full of panic were soon clouded by betrayal and hatred as he bore into SMG3 mercilessly.

“…You….” Mario hissed, the rage in his voice was enough to make anyone run for the hills.

“YOU DID THIS!”

“I-I- I didn’t…” SMG3’s own voice was failing him as he slowly backed away towards the door.

The door that was open.

“Oh my god! SMG4!” Meggy shoved past him as she ran to join her brothers.

Meggy hurriedly pulled out her phone, shakily dialing 911 as she took in 4’s injuries with panicked breaths.

An operator seemingly got back to her as she tried her best to help 4. “My friend’s been shot! Please send an ambulance right away! There’s a bullet in his left pectoral and…”

Meggy took notice of the gun like Mario did, what was once panic was now rage as she found her shaky voice again.

“…The person who shot him is a man wearing purple, he’s got red eyes and facial hair and…”

Meggy’s description of SMG3 to the police went unheard as he began hyperventilating, making a run for it out of the castle. As he did, Eggman watched, stunned… Then pleased.

3 couldn’t go to his cafe, that place would be dangerous to return to in a moment, now that the police knew of him… He could never go back.

The forest was his best option, it went on for miles and was pretty much barren, the only things living out here were wild animals and the occasional meme.

That’s exactly where he went, making sure to zigzag so he wouldn’t be headed in a straight line and easier to find.

SMG3 ran until his feet hurt, falling to his knees when he couldn’t run anymore. As he panted heavily, droplets of water fell onto his gloves, causing him to reach up to his cheek.

3 was crying.

He couldn’t fight his emotions and gave in as a strong feeling of guilt came over him, he ruined everything with SMG4 and his friends just because Eggman got in his head!

3 sobbed hard, punching the ground.

As he gave into his anguish, there was a thought in the back of his mind.

“Now, now… Pick yourself up, you crybaby. There’s so much more for you to do.”

3 glared, not giving into the thought.

“Get up and stand, wimp. You finally took out your rival!” The thought declared. “This is something you wanted for years, and now that you finally have it, you’re going to cry about it!?”

SMG3 glared through the tears, “I never wanted this…”

The thought… Chuckled?…

“Damn right you didn’t.” It said with an air of malice. “I did.”

3’s mind went black as he went into an unresponsive state again.

“I’m sorry… I have to do this.” 3 heard his own voice speaking… But he wasn’t saying that!

…Was he?

The sound of an ambulance’s doors slamming shut echoed as a stretcher carrying SMG4 was unloaded, Mario and Meggy had hopped in to accompany their friend as they followed the paramedics inside.

SMG4 had been unconscious the second they found him, but they both could tell he was in pain from his wound. There was no shit about that… it hurt to look at.

The medics kept pressure on it to stop the bleeding as nurses joined them and took SMG4 into the emergency room, where Meggy and Mario won’t be allowed to follow. Mario tried so hard to go after him, but Meggy had to hold him back.

As she did, a familiar group came running in. Their friends…

“Meggy!” Saiko cried. “We’re here!”

Luigi ran over to them, and embraced his brother and sister, who hugged back.

“fratello, sorella, mi dispiace tanto…” He muttered. “You told us that SMG3… Sh-shot 4… Did he really?”

“I saw the gun next to his foot.” Mario said, his voice so cold that it made everyone shudder. “He-a dropped it when I came in.”

“I can’t believe it…” Boopkins muttered, staying close to Bob. “I thought they were friends…”

“Me ToO, LiTtLe BuDdy.” Bob muttered, carefully patting his head to comfort him. “BuT I gUeSs 3 dIdN’t ChAnGe AfTer aLl.”

Saiko growled, “I’m gonna go to that damn café of his and kick his ass!”

“Don’t bother.”

Everyone jumped at Hal Monitor’s voice.

“We checked the place top to bottom, even down to his ‘secret lair’. He’s completely abandoned that place, we’re keeping it under top surveillance if he decides to go back.”

Tari sighed, “This is all so terrible… I hope SMG4 will be okay..”

Meggy rubbed her shoulder to comfort her, “I know that no matter what happens, 4 will probably be scared and confused, we all have to be there for him at least until SMG3 gets locked up for what he’s done.” She glared at Hal. “And he better.”

Hal cowered slightly as they all murmur in agreement.

“We’re gonna do everything we can for him. Right Mario?”

Mario didn’t respond as he looked away from all of them.

Meggy approached him. “…Right Mario?”

Mario turned towards his group of friends, with a look so sinister, so hateful, that nearly everyone paled at the sight of his face.

“He will pay for what he’s done.. No matter what I have to do to make that happen…”

[thecreelhouse]

part time soulmate, full time problem

Paring: Gator Tillman x Alt Fem!Reader (she/her pronouns) || MDNI!

Summary: Gator’s sleep deprived but dead set on setting up that goddamn air mattress, which the two of you use for anything but sleeping.

Word count: 4.2k+

CW/Tags: language, mutual masturbation, oral sex/face riding (fem receiving), soft switch (both Gator and Reader), praise kink, dirty talk, brief anal play, squirting, brief body image/self esteem issues, tooth rotting fluff, orgasm induced syncope (i am so sorry lmfao), sleepy confessions, gator being a lovable idiot

Series Masterlist // Read on AO3

A/N: hi y’all!! thanks for all the kind words in the tags and replies about this series!! I’m glad others are enjoying this, bc I’ve been having lots of fun writing this. This chapter is kinda silly and a bit of a filler, but hopefully it still keeps y’all fellow sluts happy and entertained :’) <3

Day 6

It’s one in the morning, and you’re still awake. So is Gator. And the two of you are delirious at this point, running on broken sleep schedules.

The two of you were bundled back up in the coziest sleep clothes while the fireplace burned on and illuminated the room in a soft, warm glow. Gator blew up the air mattress like he suggested, but you were skeptical about the idea.

“We’re gonna end up on the floor by sunrise.” You warn with a yawn, side eyeing the mattress with arms crossed. “These things never stay inflated.”

“No, no, look, this one’s high quality, okay?” Gator insists, slapping the mattress as the air pump raises it from the collapsed state it was just in. “This thing doesn’t deflate, I swear.”

“Didn’t you say that when we went camping in middle school?” You argue with the memory fresh in your mind. “We ended up on the ground and the tent leaked from the storm, so we got all soggy and sad.”

Gator snorts at the memory, “Yeah, but if we did sleeping bags we still woulda’ got wet.”

“This isn’t the same mattress, is it?”

“Wh— no!” Gator grumbles, focused on closing the entrance for air before it begins leaking. “Look, look how big it is! Now that,” Gator slaps the top of the mattress one more time before grinning at you, “That’s a firm mattress. That thing means business.”

You’re giggling at his enthusiasm. “You sound like a dad that found a deal on an air mattress at the hiking store.”

“You just can’t appreciate a good mattress.” Gator’s totally more delirious than you at this point, with less sleep in his system than you. “Look, watch, are you watching?”

“Gator, I am literally staring at you, what the fuck else should I do? Throw my eyeballs at you?”

“This won’t deflate. Seriously, watch me, I’ll show you,” Gator jumps onto the air mattress like a child would, and he’s right, it doesn’t deflate. It does, however, bounce him back into the air and onto the hardwood floor.

You gasp, but can’t hold back more giggles. “Are you- oh my god- Gator that was so fucking—“

He’s face down on the floor, cutting you off with one hand raising in the air, flipping the bird.

“You did this to yourself, Tillman.” The laughter continues, but you move to his side, glancing down at the exhausted heap his body landed on the floor into. “You want some ice?”

Gator turns his head to the side but doesn’t move otherwise, “Yeah… maybe. That might be a good idea.”

“Okay, there’s plenty outside,” You tease as you sit on the bed, bouncing a little yourself. At least you’re still on the bed. Gator pushes himself up from the floor, shooting an unamused glare your way.

“Yeah, yeah. Look, it’s still inflated. Told you!” He’s a little too excited about this damn air mattress.

“Gator you definitely need to sleep,” You tug at his legs after he’s back on his feet. “C’mon, maybe if you lay down like a normal human being, you won’t get hurt again.”

Surprisingly, he’s got no marks on his face despite launching in the air and falling flat onto the floor.

Your arms loosely loop around his legs, trying to gently tug him onto the bed; his arms mirror yours, pulling your face closer to him. He’s not aware of where your face is, he’s too tired to think clearly. You, however, are very aware.

“Gator, if you want me to blow you, you could just ask.” You’re teasing him, but he lets go, laughing nervously.

“I- that wasn’t intentional, I swear.” He’s in a fit of sleepy laughter now, and it’s contagious, making you join in. “I was just huggin’ you back, I promise!”

“Uh-huh, sure.” You taunt as you move over, mocking Gator by slapping the mattress like he did moments ago. “Are you getting on this damn bed or not?” Gator narrows his gaze at you before sitting down slowly, as if it’s your fault he fell.

“What if I told you I hurt my dick when I fell?” Gator asks, trying to keep a straight face. His eyes are bloodshot, and the circles under his eyes are dark. “What then? Huh? Ice can’t fix that, y’know.”

You roll your eyes before swinging a pillow at him playfully. “Well, I ain’t no doctor. You’re shit outta luck.” Dramatically, he falls over on the bed, frowning while clutching his chest.

“I can’t believe you’d betray me like that.”

“Gator, what happened to watchin’ more movies?”

“An emergency happened! It’s not like you can really plan for those.”

You snicker, “Do I look like an ambulance?”

“No, but y’look like an angel that should be saving my life.”

Eyes rolling, you say, “Hey, Gator?”

He rolls over to get closer to you, head laying in your lap as your legs are criss-crossed. “Yeah?” He looks up at you, grinning like a sleepy idiot.

“Go. To. Sleep.”

His smile flips into a ridiculous frown. “Why? I like bein’ up with you.”

“Because I can tell just how exhausted you are by talking so sweet right now.” You gently move him off your lap before settling under the fluffy blankets piled around the two of you. Gator follows suit, grabbing your waist as soon as he’s under the covers.

“Surprised you ain’t takin’ advantage of that.”

“Listen, I’m not complaining, but you need sleep way more than anything right now.”

“M’fine! I probably could stay up ‘til sunrise.”

“Gator.”

“Fine, fine!” He glowers at you before shutting his eyes. “Fun sucker.”

He falls silent, and the only sounds around the two of you are the fireplace crackling, the wind continuing to brutally howl outside, and the soft breaths between the two of you. You watch Gator for a bit, and he seems to be relaxing, falling into a steady pattern of breaths.

That was fast.

As soon as your own eyes start to shut, though, Gator breaks the silence, groaning, “I can’t sleep like this.” You were so close to falling asleep; your eyes open, glaring at Gator.

Irritated, you still humor his thoughts; your brows knit together, confused, “Like what?” His hand clumsily grabs yours, leading it down to the length growing under his sweats. Your eyes are wide now; you’re definitely awake again.

“Like this,” His eyes flutter closed as he lazily bucks into your palm, making himself shudder a sigh out. “Please, baby.”

You’d be a liar if you tried to deny how attractive he is while he’s so needy.

“Again, you did it to yourself.” You’re trying not to automatically give in, but the way he looks so pathetic and cute at once is hard to ignore.

He ruts against your hand, whining when you don’t return the friction and pressure he craves. You pretend to start to fall back asleep, while Gator still searches for satisfaction from his actions against your palm.

“You’re terrible at faking bein’ asleep, darlin’.” He’s trying to sound composed, but his words just come out breathy and desperate, instead.

“And you’re terrible at going 24 hours without being as horny as a teenager.” You murmur, keeping your eyes shut. While he keeps moving, you can feel a damp spot forming on the fabric. It’s taking everything within you to ignore that, too. “Your dick’s gonna fall off if you don’t leave it alone.”

“If I wasn’t so tired, you’d be over my knee already for being a brat.”

“See, you admit it! You’re tired! Now, go the fuck to sleep.”

Gator doesn’t listen, pulling his sweats down and moving your hand so you can really feel him. “Can’t. Need you, darlin’,” is all he breathes out.

Pulling back, you sit up, leaning on your arm, watching disappointment cover Gator’s face. “You want to get off?” His face lights up immediately.

“Yeah, yes, I need it,” He’s palming himself now, growing more agitated the longer he goes without relief.

“Alright. Show me.” Gator’s confused, so you elaborate. “Show me how you get off.”

“Me? I have to do it?”

“You don’t have to, but you’re not getting off any other way.”

Gator’s mouth drops as he glares at you, insulted. “But I’m so tired.”

Shrugging, you lay back down. “Oh well, not my problem.”

“Well, actually, you stole the blankets from me, and that kept me up, so—“

“And?”

“You owe me.”

“I don’t owe you shit, Tillman.” You’re quick to respond. “You’ve got two options: show me how you touch yourself, or sleep. Your call.”

Gator huffs, frustrated, before pushing his sweats down his legs completely, kicking them off the side of the bed. “You’re the worst,” he grumbles, hand wrapping around his length; he’s a swollen, leaking mess. The tip of his cock is red with need as precum pulses out.

“You gonna be okay without a sock, baby?” You pout at him mockingly. “You might make a mess.”

His hand speeds up as he arches into his own touch. “Shut up about the fucking—“

You lean over him, spitting onto his cock and hand around it. He stops to watch you in awe before breaking his trance to spread the saliva over himself.

“That make it easier?” You continue mocking him. Gator grits his teeth, hand moving with ease against his skin. You grab his face, forcing him to look at you. “Answer me.”

Those two words seem to make Gator’s brain melt; they’re not special, but the tone you give him hits a weak spot somewhere within him.

“Y- yeah, it does.” He sighs as he continues jerking himself off. You move back a little before removing your own pants, touching yourself lazily in front of him. Gator throws his head back on the pillow, unable to take his eyes off of you. “We could be doing this together, y’know. Isn’t easier to just fuck instead?”

Your fingers slide up and down your slit, gathering arousal before pushing two fingers into yourself at once. You gasp at the sensation of stretching your own walls out. It’s not as good as Gator using his hands, mouth, or cock, but it’s enough for right now.

“You haven’t earned it yet.”

Gator’s eyes roll back in his head as he picks up the pace on himself. His back arches again, off of the bed as he whines. “Fucking fuck—“ his face is red, embarrassed that you’re making him work for his own release. “How the fuck do I earn it then?”

“Not sure.” You giggle, and he glares at you. “Guess we can figure it out along the way.”

His eyes dart back and forth between the hand between your legs, now toying with your clit, and the taunting smirk you’re shooting his way.

“Need you.”

“I know, you told me already.” Every time you mock, dismiss, or belittle him, his hips stutter, and his breath shudders, but he tries to hide it. “It’s okay, Gator, it’s hard to keep your thoughts together like this, isn’t it?”

Gator shakes his head, free hand reaching out for you. You pull back, but he’s faster, grabbing your leg, digging his nails into your skin. “No, I need you.”

“You already said that, babe.”

“Fuck— just fucking sit on my face. That’s what I need. Please?” He sounds so hot and bothered like this. “I owe you, you didn’t get off last time, darlin’.”

Your face heats up at his words, suddenly growing shy. “Won’t I- uh-“ You’re trying to find your words without embarrassing yourself, so you just shake your head ‘no’ instead.

“Why not?” Gator whines, grip still tight on you. Your own actions along your folds stop, and you pull your hand away from your core. Gator slows his own hand, noticing the way your mood shifts. “Hey, what’s up?”

“What if I hurt you?” You motion to your legs and hips, plush with curves and softness.

Gator sits up, letting his grip on himself go, focusing on you.

“You kiddin’? There’s no way you would.” Gator tries reassuring you, ignoring the way his cock twitches after he stopped stroking himself. “Plus, on the off chance you did hurt me, I’d think it’d be an honor to have my neck snapped by a pretty girl like you.”

You snort at his sentiment. “You’re definitely sleep deprived sayin’ some shit like that.”

He reaches out, hand cradling the side of your face; you instantly lean into his touch, tension leaving your body. “Sleep deprived or not, it’s true.”

Your face gravitates towards his as you giggle, “You’re corny.”

“And you’re a sucker for that.” Gator’s voice drops low while his thumb wanders to your lips, eyes quick to follow and linger, too. You nod, watching his expression as he toys with your bottom lip. “I’d still love to make ya’ feel good, if you’re comfortable with it, darlin’. But we can go to sleep if you’d rather that.”

“Oh now you want to sleep.” You tease, and it earns an eye roll from Gator. “If we do… you’ll promise to tell me if I hurt you, right? Like you can tell me to stop, I don’t want you to feel like—“

Gator cuts you off with a kiss; his lips languidly move against yours, coaxing your lips to part, letting him in with ease. His tongue melds with yours, earning a whimper from you; his reaction is a smirk and a breathy laugh into you before biting on your bottom lip, slowly pulling on it before releasing his hold on you.

“Use me to feel good, darlin’.” He whispers as your noses still touch, lips just centimeters apart. Your breath hitches in the back of your throat. “I promise you can finish this time.”

“Oh, how generous of you,” You deadpan, pushing his chest gently so he falls back onto the pillow. He reaches out to you, hands grabbing whatever he can touch. “Promise you’ll tell me to stop if you’re not okay?”

Gator nods intently, tired eyes wide with desire. You pause for a moment, hesitant.

Fuck it.

As you clamber up Gator’s body, he assists you faster by hooking his arms around your legs, pushing them from the back. You yelp at the sudden push, only making him smirk. You’re hovering above him, about to lower yourself, when concern for his pleasure hits you. “What about you, though?”

Ignoring your question, his arms move to hook under your thighs, hands finding your backside, kneading the soft swell of your ass. “Hey, darlin’?”

You’re dizzy from his touch. “Hm?”

“Shut up already.” He swiftly pulls you down to his mouth, and on contact you’re beginning to see stars. The noises that erupt from the two of you are obscene and loud; you’re immediately grateful there’s no neighbors around his house.

You’re frantically searching for something to hold onto; air mattresses don’t come with a bed frame, unfortunately. You look down at Gator, who’s already looking up at you, and the eye contact makes the knot in your lower tummy tighten with want. Your hands tangle into his hair, tugging softly.

“C’mon, you can pull harder than that.” Gator murmurs into your folds, deliberately taking his time tasting you. “You did a few days ago, remember?”

The morning you found his porn searches flashes in your mind, along with pinning him down to his bed after he caught you, pulling on his hair as you taunted him.

“Uh-huh,” you breathe, eyes fluttering shut. Your fingers weave and wind through his hair before tugging harder, earning a deep groan from him, vibrating into you from below.

“That’s it, darlin’.” He’s praising you in between sucking on your clit. “Just like that.”

Your hips start rolling, but you force yourself to stop, worried it’s too much for him. Gator notices, reminding you, “You don’t gotta to hold back. I can take it.”

Your thighs instinctively try to close, but you stop yourself from doing that, too. Gator pushes on your thighs, closing in towards his head anyway.

“You’ve got no idea how many times I dreamt about bein’ between these legs,” Gator softly nips at your clit, and you cry out, head falling back. “Got no idea how many times I wished it was you riding my face when it was someone else.”

“Gator…” You’re tensing up as you keen, pulling roughly on his hair now. He spanks you, earning a shaky yelp from your lips. “Th— you’ve— god.”

“No one’s tasted as sweet as you, baby.” He tongue fucks you, and you lose it, all concerns and doubts vanishing into thin air; you begin really riding his face, and he’s taking it with pride. “Can’t believe you’re this fucked out already.”

Your whole body is burning up; you hastily tear your shirt over your head and throw it aside, hand leaving his hair to start grabbing yourself. You barely begin groping yourself before Gator unhooks an arm to reach up and shove your hand away. You’re about to whine out, annoyed, but he immediately replaces your touch, teasing your body. “Let me do the work, darlin’.” His other hand follows suit, fingers tweaking and pinching your nipples, causing you to grind down on his face.

Gator alternates between his tongue, lips, and nose to keep the pleasure building within you. The combination as you continue riding him makes your legs begin to shake.

“You better not be cummin’ yet,” He warns as his tongue swirls around your clit, sucking it again while his strong hands continue to fondle your tits. “I just started playin’ with ya’.”

“Ye- yeah but what about you?”

“This is more than enough for me.” He quickly answers before delving back into your centre, tongue teasing your entrance again. One hand comes back down, but as he hooks it under your leg again, he lightly touches and circles your tight, puckered hole. You jump, not expecting the sensation, but you moan, thighs tightening around Gator’s head again. “Can I play with ya’ back here sometime, darlin’?”

You nod quickly as your hips work faster. Gator chuckles into your core while his fingers swipe through your folds briefly, collecting arousal to spread onto your tight ring, making his touch even more sinful.

“Gator, please…”

“Anyone ever eat ya’ here, too?” The filth of his words and casual tone make your eyes roll back into your head. “Need an answer, darlin’. Wanna learn everything about you, pretty girl.”

You can only think of one response, “I’m- I’m close,” You whimper, lightheaded from all the teasing and stimulation. “Gator— Gator, please, I—“

His arms move back to where they first started, hands on your body, guiding you along roughly on his face as your hips stutter their movements.

His tongue works in tandem with his mouth’s suction before murmuring, “Make it count, princess.”

The encouragement is enough to send you over the edge; you started this seeing stars, but now you’re surrounded by the entire fucking galaxy. Legs shaking, you’re involuntarily grinding harder onto Gator’s face. He doesn’t stop his meticulous actions, even when you nearly put him into a death grip with your thighs. Your head lolls back, mouth falling open in a silent cry before a moan fills the empty space. You’re screaming his name, followed by an incoherent chain of noises and babbling, mind melting from the intense pleasure.

“There ya’ go, darlin’.” His praise earns another wave of noises. You’re unable to tell until it hits you like lightning; another orgasm floods through you, causing you to squirt. You’re too engulfed in your second climax to realize how horrified you’d probably be, squirting on Gator, but he moans into you loudly, hips flexing up into the open air before his own legs shake wildly. Despite it all, he’s somehow able to continue praising you. “That’s it, such a good girl. My good girl.”

Your eyes cross, vision tunneling before everything goes dark. You don’t even hear yourself make the loudest cry you’ve made so far since being snowed in.

——

“Hey, c’mon, get up baby.”

Your head feels floaty, eyes softly opening while you try blinking away the blurriness. Everything comes into focus around you; you look up to see Gator gazing down at you, worried. You’re resting on the bed, head laying in his lap.

“Jesus, you scared me.” He runs a hand through your hair, pushing it out of your face. You’re a mess, soaked, sweaty, and finally coming to.

“Gator?”

“M’here, I got ya’.” Relief replaces his worried expression as you wake up more. “It was only a minute, but might’ve been the longest minute of my life.”

“Whaddya mean?” You slur, breath calm, slow and steady now. “Are you okay?”

“Me? Can you worry about yourself for once?” He’s lighthearted in his words, but he means it. “Are you okay?”

You’re silent for a moment, reaching up with tingling hands to rub your eyes. “I think I found God in that last orgasm.”

Gator can’t help the laugh that leaves his lips, despite trying to stifle it. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Uh-huh,” you breathe, continuing to become more aware of your surroundings.

Gator’s here. You’re on the air mattress. The one he insisted the two of you sleep on tonight. Everything’s okay. It just made you—

You look down, realizing how soaked you are. The pillow Gator laid on earlier and the surrounding area of the mattress are wet, too.

Fuck. Not again.

“This is so fucking embarrassing.” You grumble, sitting up fast, but your vision tilts, and Gator can tell you’re still dizzy.

“C’mere, give yourself a bit to get up.” He pulls you into his lap, but you squirm, even more embarrassed. “Darlin’, what’s goin’ on?”

“M’all gross, don’t let me sit on you—“ You stop, studying his face. To your horror, his face, not even just the bottom half, is damp, and you know exactly why. “Oh my god. I- fuck. I’m so sorry. Oh my god, this is so fuckin’ humiliating.”

Gator uses the back of his arm to wipe his face crudely, but he’s smiling. “Wish you’d stop apologizin’ for this, because it’s so fuckin’ hot.”

You cover your face with your hands, shaking your head. “Here I was worried I’d crush ya’, but instead I just— I can’t even say it.”

“Squirted?”

“Gator.”

“Why’s that so bad?” He’s sincerely asking, but his tongue swiping along his bottom lip isn’t making this easier to accept. “It felt good, yeah?”

Slowly, you nod, but you’re embarrassed to admit it. You look away from him, but your gaze lands on the damp spot on his sweats. You figure he put them back on after you passed out, but it takes a second to realize he came on himself, and didn’t clean up before checking on you.

Something about that, despite being gross, is really sweet.

“Gator, did you touch yourself?”

“Huh?” He looks down, blushing as he notices the spot, too. “Oh, uh, no. My hands were on you, baby. It just kinda happened watchin’ you cum again. Swear it’s not from watchin’ you pass out.”

You giggle, “I figured, since you didn’t even clean yourself. Fuckin’ A, Gator. We just cleaned up like two hours ago.”

He shrugs, still grinning. “I’ll grab somethin’ to clean ya’, wait here.”

“No way, I’m coming with you, and we’re sleeping upstairs. I’m not laying on this bed that I soaked half of.” You cringe at your last sentence.

“Alright, fair point. I’m gonna put the fire out, then we can head upstairs, okay?”

It’s only a minute or so before the fire’s extinguished, and Gator’s helping you up, guiding you safely to the stairs.

“Hey, darlin’?” He’s a few steps ahead, turning on the bathroom light and grabbing towels for the both of you.

“What’s up?”

“…. Can I use that face wash of yours?”

———

“Have you ever passed out before while you cum?”

Gator’s voice is raspy, exhausted, and he’s wrapped around you in his bed. You offered yours this time, but the two of you remembered he’s the one with blackout curtains, not you.

You quietly respond with just “No.” with your head ducked in towards his chest. The two of you are naked again, it’s just easier at this point. “M’sorry that happened.”

“What do I gotta do to convince you that ya’ got nothin’ to be sorry for?” He asks, kissing the top of your head. “Stuff happens out of our control, it’s okay.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to scare you like that. I think the combination of everything happening and being sleep deprived caused it— wait. Gator? Why the fuck are we still awake?”

“Because we’re both idiots.” He chuckles, eyes growing heavy. “Did you drink enough water? I can get ya’ some more.”

You shake your head, “No, thank you, though. I can’t get over how nice you are when you’re not being a total douche.”

“There were definitely nicer ways to word that, y’know.”

You ignore his quip, half asleep. “Thank you, Gator. Wouldn’t wanna be an idiot with anyone else other than you.” In seconds, you’re dozing off, falling into a steady breathing pattern in Gator’s arms.

As you fall asleep, you don’t hear Gator murmur, “Thank you for givin’ me another chance, darlin’.”

[rheanyraaaa]

Water Lilly Part 45

Robb Stark x Frey Reader

Enemies To Lovers

summary: a bittersweet day, takes place two years after the last chapter, Cregan & Catelyn are 2, Ned 7, Rickard 5, and Seraphina 3.

Finale

——————————————————————————

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

The morning at Winterfell bloomed with warmth and noise.

Sunlight streamed through the high towers and trickled across the mossy stone, chasing off the lingering northern chill. It painted the stone corridors with streaks of mellow light, glinting off old banners and catching in the threads of woollen curtains. Outside, the snow had finally melted from the hills, and the North had been gifted one of its rare, treasured days of soft warmth and sky.

But indoors, chaos was already brewing.

A sharp, high-pitched wail shattered the peace like glass.

“No no no no no!” screamed one of the younger maids, ducking behind a chair as Lady Catelyn and Lord Cregan Stark toddled through the great solar like tiny marauding gremlins—half-naked, covered in what suspiciously looked like berry jam and chalk dust.

Cregan had a wooden spoon clutched in one fist, smacking the floor with great delight. Catelyn had somehow gotten ahold of a feathered ink quill, which she was brandishing like a dagger, trailing blotches of black across the tapestries as she shrieked with delight.

“Baah! Pbbt!” Catelyn crowed triumphantly, smacking her sticky hands against a nearby cabinet.

Cregan followed with a war cry of his own, something between a shriek and a bubbling giggle, before both toddlers plopped down in a heap, rolling over each other like puppies, limbs flailing.

You stood in the doorway, blinking in horror.

“Oh gods,” you murmured.

Robb stepped beside you, taking in the scene. “Is that… ink on the direwolf embroidery?”

You didn’t answer. You were trying not to cry.

“She bit me!” the maid wailed, clutching her arm.

“She’s two,” you said flatly.

“She has teeth!”

Robb stifled a laugh as he leaned in. “They are feral.”

“They’re your children,” you shot back.

“Our children,” he corrected with a smug grin.

“I’m going to throw you out the window.”

But before either of you could make a move to collect the chaos goblins, Seraphina came skipping into the solar, a glint in her dark eyes and suspicious innocence on her lips.She ignored the cry of her siblings, her dark curls bouncing wildly as she stormed down the hall in bare feet. She found her father sitting by the hearth in the great hall, reviewing scrolls and maps.

“Papa,” she cooed sweetly.

Robb lifted his eyes from the parchment, smile already pulling at his mouth. “Sweetling, what are you—?”

Before he could finish, she reached up, grabbed his hand, smacked herself in the forehead with it, and immediately let out a bloodcurdling wail.

Robb blinked. “Wait—what?”

She took a running leap away from him, tears suddenly streaking her cheeks.

“He hit meee!” she sobbed as she passed a very alarmed maid.

Robb stood slowly, arms falling to his sides. “She—? She hit herself with my hand, gods help me.”

“You are doomed, my love,” you said from the doorway, barely able to keep from laughing. “You’ve raised a little actress.”

He dragged a hand down his face. “She gets that from you.”

“I heard that!”

Though still, Robb stood frozen, completely betrayed.

“I wasn’t even doing anything!”

“She’s very convincing,” you offered with a shrug.

“She framed me. In broad daylight.”

You patted his shoulder. “A daughter always knows her father’s weakness.”

Outside, the world softened. The family spilled out into the walled gardens and grassy training yard, basking in the warmth of the day. Rickard and Ned sparred with wooden swords, their laughter echoing off stone walls. Greywind lounged nearby, tail lazily thudding against the earth as he watched with the resigned patience of an old wolf.

Cregan and Catelyn had finally been wrangled into clean clothes. They toddled across the grass, babbling unintelligibly and shrieking whenever they found a flower or bug to poke.

Seraphina, meanwhile, had made a complete recovery from her false accusation. She pranced about in a flower crown, holding a wooden spoon like a scepter.

You sat beneath the weirwood tree, resting with a book in your lap and your shoes tossed aside. Robb was stretched out beside you on the blanket, half-asleep, lips parted in a lazy grin.

Ned and Rickard were locked in a very serious duel nearby, wooden swords clashing as they circled each other with dramatic grunts and far too much flair.

“En garde!” Rickard yelled, mimicking what he’d once seen Robb do during training.

Greywind gave a low huff of amusement as the boys lunged and parried, steel-less blades clacking together. You reclined into the crook of Robb’s side, enjoying the rare, golden stillness.

“They weren’t even fast, Mama,” Cregan said proudly. “We’re very fast.” Discussing about the maids and how they handle him and his twin sister.

“Too fast,” you muttered.

Robb sprawled beside you on the blanket, eyes closed, hands behind his head.

“I miss when they were quiet.”

“They’ve never been quiet.”

“Hm. That’s right.”

Your gaze drifted to your sons, and then just in time, to Seraphina, skipping into the middle of the sparring ground, and then the inevitable happened.

Rickard swung just a bit too wide, and the hilt of his wooden sword smacked directly into Seraphina’s forehead.

A sharp thwack echoed across the yard.

Seraphina went flying backwards, somersaulting once down the small grassy hill beside the training stones.

She didn’t cry right away. Not until the entire family turned to look.

And then—

“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!”

You leapt up immediately, heart in your throat, but Robb was already sprinting.

He scooped her up like she weighed nothing, pressing her close, whispering gentle things as she clutched his tunic and wailed like the sky was falling.

Ned looked utterly horrified. Rickard had gone white as milk.

“I didn’t mean to—she ran into it!” Rickard protested, already crying himself.

“It was an accident,” you reassured him, though you knelt to check him too, just in case guilt had physically wounded him.

Seraphina, meanwhile, had wrapped herself entirely around Robb like a stubborn vine. She refused to be put down, refused to speak to anyone but him, and glared furiously at her siblings from the safety of his arms.

Robb kissed her bandaged brow, his voice soft against her curls. “You’re very brave, sunshine. Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone else with a sword near you again.”

She sniffled wetly, then nodded.

“Not even Ned?”

“Especially not Ned.”

That night, the fires were low, and the halls quiet. You’d bathed the twins, kissed Ned and Rickard goodnight, reassured a still-pouting Seraphina that she was indeed the most wounded and the most brave.

You were already in bed, brushing out your hair, a light robe wrapped loosely around you.

“I’ve brought something,” he said from the doorway, almost shy.

You turned.

He stepped forward, holding a simple basket, brimming with water lilies, your favorite. Dew still clung to their petals, and they smelled like every summer morning you’d ever loved.

Your throat tightened.

“Robb…”

“I picked them myself,” he said, setting them gently on the bedside table. “I know they grow wild by the lake. Took longer than I thought.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to get the white ones. You always said the white ones were the purest.”

You smiled at him, eyes stinging slightly. “You’re an idiot.”

He laughed. “Probably. But I’m your idiot.”

And you leaned in, pressing your lips to his. “You’re forgiven. For everything.”

“Even the tiny warlords we created?”

You gave a mock sigh. “Even them.” You opened your arms and he came into them instantly, pulling back the covers and sliding in beside you, pressing his lips to your cheek, your jaw, your collarbone.

You ran a hand down his chest, tucking your face into his shoulder.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“More than anything,” he said back. “More than war, or land, or duty.”

“I would’ve waited lifetimes to love you like this.”

“You don’t have to wait anymore.”

Your fingers tangled into his hair as he pulled you closer, and for a long while, there was only silence, the two of you breathing in tandem.

Then he kissed you, soft and slow. You kissed him back, cupping his cheek. The kiss deepened, until teeth grazed lips, playful and warm. His stubble scratched your skin as he grinned into your mouth.

“You always bite,” you whispered with a smile.

“I always want to remember the taste of you.”

Wrapped beneath the covers, tangled together, you let the world fade. The children, the kingdom, the noise it could all wait.

Tonight, you were only his. And he was only yours. Outside, the wind rustled through the trees. Inside, your world was still and whole.

For now. For always.

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

——————————————————————————

I just wanted to say thank you for everyone whose been reading or just started reading and/or enjoys the fanfic I wrote, obviously this is the finale and a lot has happened from chapter 1 to chapter 45 & i’ve had so much fun creating characters and building the relationship between Robb and the (frey) reader and doing this enemies to lovers.

Special thanks too:

@samieree @maysileeewrites @amanojaku-the-cat @nervouschaosgladiator @prettydeeryess @nommingonfood @yeahnohoneybye @lilysflower1

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

The last blurb was amazing! Since they are adventurous how about sex in front of a big window where anyone could glance up and spot them? 🤭🤫

thank you thank you!! these really have been so much freaking fun and i’m LOVING the ideas you guys are coming up with! 😍

so idk let’s say it’s a honeymoon or anniversary trip? something where william whisks you away to a tropical island where he’s shirtless the entire week and you’re wearing nothing more substantial than a string bikini

the hotel he booked has floor to ceiling windows and a view of the ocean and normally you’d request a floor up high, but william asks that you’re only on the second floor

weird, you think, but you go along with it and explore the resort. it’s fairly busy, people wandering around all the time and you wrinkle your nose a little when you realize that your room is kind of near a well traveled path

william’s reasoning for the second floor room becomes apparent on your second day, when he presses you up against the glass, kissing you within an inch of your life. his fingers twist in the strings of your bikini bottoms and they unravel, the fabric falling to the floor in a little heap

you gasp when your bare ass touches the cold glass and you shiver, canting your hips forward into the bulge of william’s cock. you squeal, “someone’s going to walk past!”

“good,” william laughs, kissing your neck and kneading your breasts until your nipples are little peaks. “i want to be the most envied man on the island”

your bikini top is gone next, tits exposed to william’s talented mouth and you’re putty in his hands, molded and shaped into positions he wants

his bathing suit bottoms are gone before he turns you around and presses your front to the glass, nipples pebbled and smashed painfully against the glass. you turn you head so your flushed cheek is against the cool glass and you’re fully aware that anyone walking by is going to get a fantastic view of your cunt being speared open by william’s cock

he’s got his hands pressed flat against the glass next to your head and he thrusts into you with growling breaths, your body wedged tightly between him and the glass. your cunt ghosts against the glass, smears of your arousal left behind

a flash of moment catches your eyesight and you panic, fucking back into william with frantic moments. “someone’s coming oh my god, will, they’re going to see me!”

“you like that, älskling, i can feel your tight little cunt gripping me like a vise. you want someone to see us fucking like animals, want someone to see you take my cock like a good little slut”

his words send you over the edge, as usual

“ah, i’m gonna come, i’m close,” you wail and william’s hand finds your clit, playing with it until you’re sobbing through and orgasm. william comes inside of you and thinks he’s done, but splatters the window glass with his come when he pulls out

you fall backwards into his arms and he tumbles to the bed, a naked pile of sweaty limbs and your combined fluids.

there’s a smudged print of your body on the glass, yours and william’s hand prints everywhere and the messy remains of both of your orgasms dripping down to the floor

“oh my god,” you mutter “housekeeping is going to hate us”

“i’ll leave a really good tip, i swear,” he says seriously and then you can feel his whole body smirk, “you want the tip too?”

and god help you, you roll over and straddle his cock, riding him until he’s orgasming dry 😌