#graveyard grumbles

[gravegrime]

Poll Game Lore Results

Alright gang here's the lore for the poll I did yesterday! It's going to be a long one so buckle up lol

I ran the same poll over on twitter too with different results so if you want to know even more lore you can check that out over there too

💕LILIUM💕

Lilium's hyper positivity and caring nature is a direct result of her strange upbringing. As a "child of the kingdom" Lilium was raised under the watchful gaze of the All-Mother. An otherworldly being in her world I call an Abstraction. As well as guided by the hands of the All-Mother's servants, fathers.

A core tenant of the ideology is a strict adherence to simply positivity and an over emphasis on love and care.

Speaking of the All-Mother... She is also responsible for Lilium's lack of any face. Scooped that shit right out of her head when she was born as is tradition for all children in the kingdom.

It doesn't particularily bother Lilium as she's never known a world where she's had a face. To her, the gaping maw in her head is just as good!

There is a level of redundancy when it comes to the concept of friendship within the kingdom. They're all seen as each other's family so having external relationships on top of that is seen as unnecessary.

However, Lilium is particularily close to one individual in her town. Rose from Elsewhere. A kindly older gentleman who took Lilium under his wing when he discovered that she enjoyed writing.

She is appreciative of everything he teaches her, even if she doesn't always understand it right away! The two make a point to visit each other at the end of every work week in a small park to discuss ideas and learn about the lovely world around them.

You did hear that right, Lilium is in fact a writer! on a hobbiest level at least.

Her writings are very rudementary self-insert fables about princesses saving kingdoms and getting helpful advice from old wizards. I think we can cut her a little slack though given she's never really read a novel before. That's just not something they have access to in the kingdom.

Besides, these are very personal stories to her. They help her compartmentalize and understand thoughts and feelings frowned upon by the kingdom. Lilium would have no interest in sharing these stories with others. The very thought would have her "face" flush and her knees weaken for some reason that's hard for her to understand!

Another unfortunate down side of being raised in the kingdom is a deep lack of experience with anything close to lying or deception. To the point that Lilium doesn't even understand them as things anyone can do but only as evil sins commited by individuals with hate in their heart.

This results in her being blatant, almost horrifically, honest. She would tell her killer where to find the knives level of honesty because she simply doesn't understand why anyone would say something untrue.

She would love to figure out why someone might though! That's one thing that seperates Lilium from a lot of the other children of the kingdom, she's very curious.

She sees the world as an infinite source of love and wonder. Absolutely everything has some aspect to it that is lovely and should be nurtured and acknowledged! To find out the lovely parts isn't easy however and requires a keen eye and lots of questions. This driving force of her curiousity leads her to being a very kind, if not a bit frustrating, amatuer slueth looking for the good in the world.

👻CORNY👻

Before taking on the role of Kaspar's apprentice Corny would develop his own methods of dealing with the ghosts and spirits he would encounter.

One being if Corny found a ghost that was capable of communication he have it follow him to an old abandoned residence and stay there until he found out how to help them. Essentially collecting coherent ghosts in one spot to cut down on travel and maybe give them some much needed company.

Ultimately he wanted to help these ghosts but in the meantime maybe they'd at least to find comfort in each other!

Corny is a massive horror fan! He loves himself a good spook be it by show, movie, or game. Going so far as to study some of the stories he feels might be applicable in his own paranormal pursuits. Obviously to varying results lol

Some of his favorites would be akin to Poltergiest, The Shining, Silent Hill, and Fatal Frame!

💀LYNETTE💀

Lynette absolutely hates relying on other people for anything. There is almost nothing more distasteful to her than asking for help. Near the point of rathering to die than even consider calling the ambulance lol

This completely bull-headed approach to aid is a huge flaw of hers and something that's going to be quite harshly punished throughout the story. Lass has a lot of learnin' to do

Exhibit A! Lynette has never summoned a spirit for a contract before. In Grimm Deeds magic is preformed through ritual trades with spirits that bind the witch/wizard and the spirit together in a sense. This exchange grants the witch/wizard power while giving the spirit form. Lynette has never done this!

There is a much more difficult route for a magic user to cast that utilizes the caster's own soul instead of relying on the power of a spirit. This practices is much more difficult and takes A LOT of training to achieve comperable results to normal magic. This is the method Lynette uses instead severly kneecapping her own potential to avoid having to rely on another entity for her own power.

There are also some advantages to using your own soul for magic but I won't detail these here unless you guys have a question about it lol

Most of the time she is completely alone on the Necropolis, outside of her caretaker, but she doesn't count them. Her father, Kaspar, is extremely busy with being... the grimm reaper and everything and is unable to spend much time with her.

This isolation has led to some pretty sever social stunting and having any complex social interaction will often stun her as she tries to navigate it. For this reason Lynette often retreats back into self isolation even more. She hates the loneliness of it but there's a comfort in the familiarity.

If there is a silver lining to her loneliness it's her academic and hobbiest pursuits have florished with nothing else to do on her own. Her magic is an obvious example of this, having a far greater grasp on her abilities than any normal witch/wizard in training would.

Of course having a hyper magical being as a father to teach you a few tricks probably helps too.

But she has other skills as well! Lynette actually has a small passion for music and is able to play a sort of fantasy themed piano/organ as well as a strange looking violin!

She actually writes her own songs as well. They act as a form of journaling her feelings in a more abstract sense, Lynette would die of embarassment if she were to actually log her feelings in a way people would easily be able to understand them, and are often without lyrics.

No lyrics also makes her feel better because she feels she doesn't have a very good singing voice either.

On the academic side of things I don't think I have to mention how much she likes to read. Take a stroll through any artwork with her in it and she probably has her face buried in some form of literature. She loves it so much that her father turned almost TWO full walls into bookshelves for her! It's the one thing she does the most out of anything.

She mostly reads nonfiction as well. Biographies, textbooks, essays you name it she probably has read something similar. Many pertain to magic and the practice of it but a good amount are also about the various worlds in the Cosmos. She respects her father's wishes to not go exploring without him there to keep her safe and therefore lives an explorer's life vicariously through written world.

Unfortunately all this knowledge can't translate to real world experience. All her knowledge of how things work is almost completely theoretical.

She loves her fucking dad so goddamn much. Everything she does is for him. EVERYTHING IS FOR THAT BIG BEAUTIFUL MAN. She just wishes he could be here...

Lynette is very cold and holds herself very strongly but man is she fragile. A huge emphasis on strength and self sufficency acts as a bit of a complex for her to avoid having to deal with the fact that she's scared and that she's hurt.

There are a lot of reasons for this but I'll leave it at that for now >:)

🖤SHADE🖤

Shade has a pretty big family all things considered! A grandmother, two parents, and four other brother's and sisters that he's smack dab in the middle of. He loves them all dearly and makes sure to take breaks from his wanderlust to come back home and visit.

His family are actually quite supportive of his lifestyle, especially given his father's background, and always want to hear the stories of his magical adventures across the Cosmos!

Shade is not a bright boy. You could honestly say he's very much of an idiot, but he's an idiot in what I feel is the most charming way possible.

His head is never empty. Shade's mind is bursting with a million questions and observations. The quality of them is questionable is all! their either an insanely solid observation or the equivalent of a yahoo answers question and there is very little inbetween. He has no idea what a good or bad question is so he just asks them all! Making Shade one of the most interesting people to talk to possible lol

On top of already being very likeable with his laid back and open personality Shade is also insanely charismatic! He is an absolute accidental people pleaser able to make a lemon smile.

Full of worldly charm and experience Shade often wins people over with his adventerous stories, of which he has plenty, and good nature. He's one of those people you'd just want to sit down and listen to, no matter what he's saying.

[keets-writing-corner]

I have bad news friendsos. My aforementioned April 25th goal date of posting chapter 3 of my Prequel Fic is uhhh most likely not going to be met? IM STILL GOING TO TRY I PROMISE I'M GOING TO TRY! but omg chapter 3 is so bulky and tanky it's over 30k words (aka that's the size of chapter 2 for reference) aaaaand I'm still not done. This upcoming week is going to be a rather full for me. I will have SOME freetime but not a lot. Again, I'm going to try to make it to that 25th deadline but I'm not so sure I'll make it. Realistically speaking it might be more towards... eh april 30? hopefully?

Anyways, to make up for it, I've decided to give you guys an extended teaser of the beginning of the chapter. I did already show this a little bit in another post, but to make up for the delay I decided to give you guys everything I have written for the very beginning up until we reach the first asterix

But uhhh yeah! I'm sorry! Plz enjoy the sneak peek!

___________

High pitched ringing was all Lilith could perceive at first. Eventually, as time passed, she became aware of more things. The air smelled foul. She was laying atop something soft, but underneath the soft layer was the hardest rock she’d ever felt. As far as sounds, it seemed like there was a faint rumbling in the distance, but nothing extravagant. 

Blearily, she managed to open her eyes. 

Lilith was face to face with Lucifer who seemed to be unconscious, just as she had been moments ago. The soft layer she was on was his wing, with another one lying limp on top of her. 

She sat up slowly, groaning. Her body ached and her joints felt sore. The wings that were on top of her, slid off. 

There was something grey drifting down from the sky, and apparently, she and Lucifer had been laying there long enough that a thin layer of it had started to build up on them. Well, mostly Lucifer. Up until now, she had been safely shielded by his wings. 

Lilith gave him a nudge, “Lu, wake up,” she told him before moving to stand herself. 

The sky was a deep blood red. Any clouds that formed were either grey or black. The ground too, the harsh rocky terrain she and Lucifer were on was also a dark grey. It was now that she realized, she and Lucifer were dead center in a crater of sorts. 

That’s when the previous events all rushed back to her. Heaven attacked them and cast them down into, what was it the elders called it? Hell? Lucifer desperately shielded and protected her from the vicious onslaught and then from the impact of the fall itself. 

Now with the full context, Lilith rushed back to Lucifer who still remained on the ground, “Lu?!” Lilith pushed back the wings that were covering his body, and unveiled multiple wounds from heaven’s attack. The blood had long since dried, and Lilith realized she too was covered in Lucifer’s blood. His wings were also covered in his blood as heaven viciously skewered them to prevent him from flying back out. His once flowing robes were all but tatters barely clinging to his form.

Panic now fully setting in as she realized he looked even worse than when he had fallen from heaven and wasn’t even stirring, not even a little. She couldn’t even hear him breathe raspy breaths like he had last time.

“Lu! Say something!” Lilith immediately cradled him. 

His head rolled back limply as she pulled him to her. Lilith needed to readjust her grip on him in order for his head to lean against her torso gently. 

He had protected her… From everything. But the final blow had been the fall. If what little Lilith had experienced from the fall due to his protection had been enough to temporarily knock her unconscious and make her sore then… What must it have felt like to take the full brunt of it?? 

Tears began to build up in her eyes as she recalled him assuring her that she’d be okay. He had been unable to stop the crash, so he did everything he could to make sure she was going to be safe. Suddenly, it made sense why he had repositioned himself underneath her, to cushion her fall with his own body. 

“Lu?!” she called again, “Lucifer!” 

He remained still and unresponsive. 

Lilith’s breath hitched in her throat. He couldn’t be- he wouldn’t- this couldn’t have… killed him??? 

Lilith pulled him tighter to her, choking back tears and shook with rage against heaven. Why push her and him into that crevice?? All this because he wanted to help her and Eve but that was against the rules apparently?? Weren’t they supposed to be good?! Weren’t they supposed to be kind?! And what could she have done while the elders attacked? She had been powerless to help! Worse… They used her to lure him into the hole. As Lilith held him and choked back sobs, it occurred to her that he still felt warm. 

The faintest, slightest bit of hope fluttered in her, and she pulled away to get a better look at Lucifer. He still was completely still, and unresponsive but… maybe…

Lilith leaned her ear against his chest, hoping for what seemed to be the impossible. 

Faintly. 

Very

very 

faintly 

She could hear it. A heartbeat. Even fainter, she could hear a weak rattling breath from deep in his chest. 

He was alive…

He was still alive!

Lilith pulled him into a hug, cupping the back of his head and holding him tightly. Her tears now weren’t from grief but relief. “You’re going to be okay,” she whispered to him, “It’s going to be okay…”

They needed to get better bearings. Being at the center of the crater largely obstructed their view. Lilith stood with Lucifer in her arms. She had never tried full on carrying him before. Perhaps she thought that she couldn’t but now he seemed impossibly light. Maybe it was his small frame.  

As she stood, she quickly noticed a problem. Lucifer’s wings were going to get tangled with her legs the way she was holding him. Lilith crouched back down and readjusted Lucifer, draping him over her back instead, intending to carry him piggyback style. His wings were going to drag on the ground, and Lilith wished they didn’t have to, but she had no way of gathering them together. She knew he could change their size as he wanted, but right now they were stuck being big. He clearly wasn’t going to wake up any time soon. 

Upon pulling his arms around her neck, she realized that his arms and hands had been burnt black. Had this been from that wicked blast the elders had used on him? She gripped one of his hands and rubbed his knuckles gently. Rage towards heaven once again filled her. 

Lilith gave herself a shake. Now wasn’t the time. 

She climbed out of the crater as fast as she could while still holding onto Lucifer. When she reached the top, well… she wasn’t sure that was all that much better. The grey substance falling from the sky was covering everything. And the land was completely barren. The only variation to be seen at all was hills and rocky mountains in the distance. 

She hated being underneath this falling… what even was it? Upon a quick sniff it smelled like smoke. Lilith frowned and stared at the sky. Was it raining ash?? 

Glancing over to Lucifer’s face on her shoulder,  Lilith realized now wasn’t the time to figure out what was going on. She needed to find them some shelter from this. It’d be great if there were trees but she couldn’t see any. Maybe she could find a nice ledge or something that could protect them? 

Lilith set out walking towards the rocky hills. Surely, she’d be able to find a ledge somewhere that could shelter them. 

She walked. 

A million thoughts ran through her head. What were they going to do now? There weren’t any plants as far as she could tell, what could she eat? Maybe she’d have to look for plants. Surely this place wasn’t completely barren. 

She walked.

How long would Lucifer be out for this time? In Eden it had taken him a couple days before he began showing signs of regaining consciousness, and became fully awake about ten-fourteen days later. The air here felt harsh, Lilith could tell, and Lucifer had been beaten harder than last time. He was in a worse state than last time, and Lilith had a hunch that this place was going to make it harder for him to heal.

She walked. 

A million feelings raced through her heart. She was scared. She didn’t know what this place was. Lucifer was unconscious and couldn’t provide any answers if he even knew them. She was worried about him. What if he didn’t wake up? What if he never recovered from these wounds? What if it had all been too much? She was angry. Angry at heaven for putting them in this situation. She felt grief, grief at the loss of her home, and the loss of her friend Eve. Would she ever see Eve again? Would she ever see blue skies again? And also… a sense of loss of herself. She no longer felt innocent. Some part of herself had been lost in that whole ordeal, and she didn’t know how to cope with it. 

She walked. 

The ground here was rough. Her feet were already growing sore and irritated, only accustomed to the soft grasses and gentle dirt of Eden. Even the air felt hostile as every breath irritated her throat, and her eyes stung. 

She walked.

Hours passed and Lilith roamed still. Exhaustion clung to her, but she refused to stop until she could find some sort of shelter for the both of them. An anxious thought had entered her mind while she walked, and it was that surely all of this ash landing on Lucifer’s open wounds couldn’t be good for him. 

She walked. 

Hunger clawed at her, but worse than hunger was thirst. She also hadn’t spotted any water. Her throat was already raw from breathing in the air, but now it craved water and there was none to be found. Even Lucifer, who had felt light earlier, was beginning to weigh on her. In addition to all of the emotions Lilith had been feeling before, she felt despair begin to creep up. 

The weakest groan escaped Lucifer’s lips. 

Lilith glanced over to him, “Lu?” 

He struggled to open his eyes. At most he managed small slits for two seconds before they quickly closed again, as if they were too heavy to hold open. He wasn’t moving, Lilith seriously doubted that he even could, but she could feel him tensing against her in distress.

“Lu, it’s okay. I’m taking care of you,” Lilith told him, “You can rest.” 

“Lil…th?” he could barely choke out her name. 

Lilith reached with her hand and cupped his cheek. “I’m right here Lu,” she comforted him, “don’t strain yourself.” 

“Areyou…” he had to pause, clearly speaking was not only taking a monumental effort for him, but it was also painful, “areyouokay?” he splurted out as quickly as he could manage in one breath. It had been accompanied by some drops of blood.

Lilith felt a rush of mixed emotions. She was touched that Lucifer was here, barely awake or aware, couldn’t even move, full of wounds, having lost a lot of blood, spitting out more, and his first thought upon brushing with consciousness was whether or not she was okay. She wanted to hold him forever in her arms. And once again, she was visited by rage. Rage that heaven would even think to cast out someone as caring and as kind hearted as he was. And… rage that she had been powerless to do anything about it.

“I’m okay,” She leaned her head against his, “I’m okay,” she had to keep her voice from wavering. She didn’t want him to know how close she was to crying, that would only distress him. He needed to rest. 

“Mmm,” was all he managed to say in response and Lilith felt his body relax against her. 

“Just rest Lu,” Lilith whispered to him, but it seemed she hadn’t even needed to tell him. Just hearing that she was okay seemed to calm him enough to drift back into unconsciousness. 

Lilith nuzzled her face in his hair a moment longer, his brief brush with consciousness giving her a brave second wind. Now more determined than ever, Lilith picked up the pace. 

She cleared another hill and then she spotted not just a huge ledge jutting out from the side of one that could shelter them from the ash, but also a little pond filled with water was right next to it. Lilith climbed underneath the ledge and as gently as she could, laid Lucifer down. He didn’t stir in all that time. 

Lilith gently rubbed her thumb against his lips, cleaning the blood he had spat out, and then stared at it on her finger. An idea formed in her head, one that made her feel guilty but it had to be done. She bent down and kissed his forehead before climbing down to the water. 

The water was murky and grey, the ash didn’t help. Biting her lip, Lilith dipped her thumb with Lucifer’s blood, and just like it had back in Eden all those years ago, the water suddenly glistened and cleared, having been purified by his blood. 

Lilith almost hungrily gulped up the water. She tried to get Lucifer to drink but he wouldn’t even respond to her touch. She ended up using it to clean themselves from the ash and blood. As long as Lucifer had some wounds, she’d be able to drink this water. She felt guilty about it but it was all she could do. 

Lilith laid down and then pulled Lucifer on top of her. The ground was hard, and the furthest thing from comfortable, but she was exhausted, and she refused to let Lucifer lay on the hard ground when she could cushion it for him. It was the least she could do after all…

Things were bad. 

Lucifer was unconscious. She had no idea where she was. There was no food. The ground and the air were harsh. She was sore and tired.

But, they were alive. 

Lilith pulled him tighter, blinking tears out of her eyes. They would make it. She’d make sure they’d make it.

____

alright that's all for now! I might be persuaded to give more sneakpeeks and/or answer chapter 3 questions if any of you want more but uhh yeah!

sorry again!

[lovebugism]

smutty requests you say... maybe eddie x reader fooling around secretly, while wayne's home? so like a little exhibitionism kink?

i'm just now realizing i totally misread the prompt so pls forgive me anon, i'll happily write a part 2 to this if u want!! — the first time uncle wayne catches you and eddie in the act™ (established relationship, inspired by this universe, smut 18+ | 1.3k)

“Alright. I’m headed out,” Wayne announces in a gravelly drawl, huffing as he rises from his creaking recliner. His work boots sound heavy on the worn carpet as he trudges towards the front door, closer to a wretched and unavoidable graveyard shift. His old bones are weighed down by a preemptive dread and a homemade meal you cooked with him in mind.

Eddie feels bad for being so happy to see him leave.

“Have fun,” the boy lilts playfully from where he’s sprawled along the couch, smiling wide with his head tilted to his shoulder.

Wayne grumbles vaguely in response.

“Bye, Mr. Munson,” you grin more sincerely than the boy beside you.

The man flashes you a mere hint of a grin, which is a whole lot more than most people get these days. He pulls a worn baseball cap over his balding head and nods once in your direction. “Bye, sweetpea,” he responds in his usual gritty and melodic Southern cadence.

The rusted hinges of the screen door squeal open and shut behind him. A wintery breeze billows in, briefly piercing the heated trailer and biting at Eddie’s burning skin. 

You idle on the other side of the couch, with your eyes drawn to the sitcom playing in static colors ahead of you — unaware of your boy’s building desire and far too distant for his liking. Eddie marvels at your profile, unabashed and boyish, and waits for the perfect moment to strike.

He hears Wayne’s truck door close with a muffled thud. The ignition rattles for a moment, then roars when amber headlights shine suddenly through the sheer curtains. Eddie waits until he hears the tires crunch against the gravel drive before he pounces on you, like unsuspecting prey to a predator of unbridled longing.

You squeal when his mouth locks suddenly with your pulse, warm and wet on your unkissed skin. He wraps you in his arms like he intends to smother you against him. You swear you can feel his heart racing against your shoulder. His tongue darts along the most sensitive spot on your neck, and your head tips back with an airy laugh.

“What?” Eddie mumbles, muffled into your skin.

“Nothing,” you giggle. “Just thought you’d last longer than that.”

“Hm. Feel like I’ve heard that one before.”

“Shut up,” you gripe, but pull him impossibly closer just the same.

You bury your nose in his wild curls, inhaling the sweet scent of his conditioner and the subtle skunky smell of weed. He mouths at your neck with an intentional sloppiness that makes your eyes flutter.

Eddie grumbles a moan against your skin, which you feel in little tingles in the pit of your stomach. “You taste good,” the boy observes mindlessly into your pulse.

“I taste like sweat,” you scoff against his temple. “I still need to shower.”

“What’s the point? You’re just gonna get dirty again.”

Eddie pulls away with a soft smack. His lips are rosy and softly swollen as they curl into a grin. His chocolate eyes swim with mischief as yours narrow into a squint. “You’re such a boy,” you deadpan.

“Just love you,” the boy shrugs. “That’s all.”

You’re grateful when his lips finally meet yours. You’re only able to breathe when he’s kissing you, in a heavy exhale through your nose that fans along his cupid’s bow. He licks into your mouth tasting like a homecooked meal and nicotine and boy. Something foreign and nostalgic and tender. You melt into him accordingly. 

When he urges you to lay back against the couch, you let him. You cradle his face in your hands to keep him close as he props himself on his forearms, careful not to crush you despite his efforts to kiss the breath from your lungs. His weight is a comforting one anyway — body warm and lean and pleasantly heavy on top of yours.

You forget to take another breath until Eddie pulls away. You inhale deeply, lungs grateful for air, as the boy’s mouth treks down your jaw.

He leaves a trail of wet kisses down your neck and collarbone, spit cooling and drying again on your skin. Goosebumps pebble in their wake, while his hand slides down your stomach.

His fingertips creep into the waistline of your pajama pants, perhaps a fruitless distraction from the lovebite he sucks just below your jaw. It’s a burning sensation of his teeth, followed by a warmer, more pleasant one as his tongue smooths over the bite.

“What are you? A vampire?” you giggle, fingers twisting in his hair.

You feel his smile curl into your neck. “Maybe,” he quips.

“I have to go leave eventually. You know that, right? And my roommates will freak if they see a hickey.”

Eddie whines between his kisses. “No, you don’t,” he insists with an audible frown. “Why can’t you just stay here forever?”

“Even if I wanted to, Wayne would still see. And that would be equally as horrifying.”

“He won’t be back until morning,” Eddie argues, punctuated by his teeth scraping your pulse. “It’ll be faded by then. Probably.” He licks over the bite and pulls away, peering down at you with a mischievous leer. “Unless… You want me to stop?” he offers in a sarcastic lilt.

You squirm under his gaze. “No…” you answer sheepishly.

He grins. “Then stop complaining, sweet thing.”

“Eddie,” you scold when the boy ducks down again, continuing his assault on your delicate skin, though you make no further attempt to stop him.

His kisses grow wetter and warmer and more languid as his hand travels down down down. A breathy moan catches in your throat when his calloused palm cups your bare pussy.

The damp, velvet feeling of you makes Eddie’s eyes widen. He didn’t know you’d be naked down there. He might’ve been more careful about it if he had.

“Shit,” he huffs.

“Sorry,” you squeak, face swirled apologetically.

Eddie pulls away again, head spinning as he stares down at you with heavy eyes. “No— Don’t— Don’t apologize for that shit, are you kidding?” he stammers, then laughs at how sorrowful you look. Like this could ever be a bad thing. “It’s hot.”

You smile sheepishly. “I’m just running out of clean clothes. That’s why I had to do the laundry today.”

“Well, next time, I’m just gonna lock the door to the washer,” Eddie retorts playfully. “So then you have to walk around naked.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re such a boy,” you repeat, right before you drag him down by his shoulders to swallow him in another kiss.

You lick into his mouth only to find that his hand had never wavered. He cups you delicately there still, and creeps his middle finger between your satiny folds. 

Your hips buck on instinct. His palm bumps your clit. Your moans entwine in a kiss.

The screen door opens again with another grating screech. You and Eddie part instantly, swollen mouths smacking as your heads turn in sync.

Wayne stills in the doorway, weathered face swirled in horror. Neither of you move for several long moments — like, if you stay still, you’ll turn invisible somehow.

“Really?” Wayne huffs. “On the couch?”

Eddie’s wide eyes dart awkwardly. “What are you doing here?” he wonders breathlessly, still on top of you and still with his hand down your pants.

“Forgot my damn wallet.” Wayne keeps his gaze averted as he trudges to the tiny, square dining table by the window. He tucks the leather billfold into the pocket of his navy jumpsuit and promptly returns the way he came.

You and Eddie spare a wordless look of horror between you in the meanwhile.

“Do it in a bed next time, alright?” Wayne advises from the doorway with his back facing you. The rusted door creaks open and, just before it shuts behind him, you hear him shout. “And use protection!”

[yourlocalcorviddad]

@thatrandomsarahchick @stealingyourbones

Saw a thing about you two pointing out, rightly, they'd just roll with the punches and got an idea? Also tagging others I think would find it funny? @hdgnj @mar-and-the-idea-graveyard @illya-roma @blob-of-darkness @booklover4177

"Alright, who had "government hides new sentient rights violation in small Midwestern town" on their bingo cards this year?"

Barry entered the room with that as the greeting, a flurry of tablets and such being pulled out to mark off and be ready for the debrief.

"Question, Waller involved or no?" Hal asked, looking from his own bingo card.

"Surprisingly no, but Luthor was when he was president."

Hal cursed and switched his tablet back to work mode, but Clark cheered.

"Bingo!"

There were a mix of grumbles about him winning the next movie night pick but the team was quick to get into work mode from there.

Batman sighed before motioning to Barry to continue, "Report."

"So apparently two mad scientists punched a hole in the fabric of space time, but didn't make a black hole. In other news, Clark that's what the weird whispering you've been hearing is, magic induced silence field."

[matchaelette]

gif by @yoongi-bts

when jungkook is a vessel of love, and love is as beautiful as the poets said it was

summary: idol!jk and oc!ash, established relationship, the first time 'I love you' was spoken out aloud. the more earlier stages of their relationship. yearning, tenderness, fluff, it's all sickeningly full of love.

genre: fluff

warnings: none.

word count: 3.4k

notes: life updates. one: i'm back. obviously. two: jung hoseok is back and ksj 1 is coming (!!!) three: I am officially a uni student and majoring in civil engineering. classes start from the first week of december. four: I have decided to officially name this drabble series *drumrolls* the hopeless romantic series. so, without further ado, welcome back, our hopeless romantic couple!

you’re in love with jungkook.

no, you’re not allowed to say that.

fuck what you’re allowed and not allowed.

you’re desperately, helplessly, hopelessly in love with jeon jungkook. your gorgeous, gorgeous boy.

yours.

then why are you not allowed to be in love with him?

because you’ve been dating him for three months. three months.

only three months, since you decided to stop pining after him, decided it was enough, after god knows how long. three months since that decision led you to be extremely nonchalant around him, calm and collected to a point where it almost looked fake (you’re a terrible actor), and the next thing you knew, you were heavily making out with him in the chilly air of a fall night. calm and collected, indeed. three months since you learned that jungkook was pining for you in the same manner, if not more, and three freaking months since both of you decided to date, being head over heels for one other ever since.

it's too soon to say ‘I love you’. even if you know deep down that you were in love with him even before dating him– but there’s no way you’re treading that water. the realization of being in love with him right now is enough to freak you out. no, it’s definitely too soon to declare ‘I love you’.

because you don’t know whether jungkook feels the same way. although it’s not like you need or expect him to feel the same way you do. just because you’re in love with him doesn’t mean he has to be. you can happily wait until he’s ready and feels the same way.

you’re just scared that he doesn’t want to feel that way. that you’ll scare him away.

look at him. does he look like he feels the same as you?

jeon jungkook looks like a slow-motion daydream, standing in front of you. tight-fitting jeans, snug around the well-defined muscles of his thighs, and a black checkered shirt, sleeves rolled up, displaying the protruding veins of his arm. his curly hair covers the vein in his forehead, almost reaching down to his lips which were pouting in distress.

yeah, you don’t care how he feels. you’re in love with him.

but you are a graveyard of all the people you ever loved.

you can’t have jungkook join those ghosts of the past.

“this thing–”, the boy of your dream grumbles out loud in real life, breaking your thought train, “–hates me!”

oh, that.

“three hours now. we’ve been trying to fix it for three hours.”, you shake your head, frustrated. you’ve been out all day today and the last thing you wanted to do when you got back home was your laundry. but the lack of fresh clothes compelled you to do it anyway. and everything would’ve been fine had you not entered your laundry room to discover the whole floor flooded with water. panicked and disoriented, your first instinct was to call jungkook, despite it being past midnight. when your boyfriend heard what had happened, he immediately demanded you step aside and that he was already on his way over to your house.

now, it’s four in the morning and you’re both dripping wet, absolutely drained, standing in a puddle of water and soap. all you could do is to stare dejectedly at the washing machine. it was a losing battle.

“oh my god!”, jungkook cries out in indignation, “a minute ago it was sprinkling water in my face, now it’s sprinkling soapy water!”

“jungkook, move away”, you hurriedly pull your boyfriend away from your washing machine. he rebels under your grip, the patience he displayed half an hour ago was now transformed into rage.

how can someone be so cute when they’re mad?

“let me go, ash”, he points a threatening finger at the washing machine, “you wanted a fight, buddy? I’ll give you!”

“jungkook!”, you laugh and wrap your arms around his waist, “it already won! look at us!”

jungkook stares down at your attached bodies, soaked from top to bottom, while the washing machine looks like it is having a field trip.

“okay, I give up”, he sighs and rests his chin on the top of your head, “unless–”

“no unless.”

“hear me out first”, he smooches your hair, “you smell amazing by the way. anyways, unless– wait, what was I going to say? I was supposed to say something amazing.”

“I’m sure it was amazing, babe”, you chuckle with fondness, “but that thing is a lost cause. I’ll call maintenance in the morning. let’s take a shower and go to sleep, okay?”

“mhm. yeah”, he replies in affirmation but only tightens his arms around you.

“I’m sorry for calling you so late. I should’ve just– I don’t know. I mean, it was just a minor inconvenience. not a big deal. I don’t know why I freaked out–”

“princess, ssh”, jungkook coos, “you have a problem, you call me. doesn’t matter how small or big it is.”

“kook, I literally called you at one in the morning.”

“and I am very glad that I am the first person that crossed your mind. even though I couldn’t help you. I swear to god, this washing machine has a personal grudge against us.”

“thank you anyways”, you mumble against his chest.

“hey, this is what boyfriends are for.”

how is it possible not to love him?

you wake up to the humming of a honey-caramel voice in the distance.

you yawn and grab the crisply folded silk robe from the foot of your bed. the clothes haphazardly tossed on the ground last night were nowhere in sight, and neither was the person who did so. yet you could hear his hums, feel his warmth.

you smile.

the clock on the wall reflects a bright 11:10, and it’s safe to say that you’ve just woken up. after staying up with your rogue washing machine till four in the morning, you can’t really blame yourself. you feel very well-rested though, for the first time in a while.

jeon jungkook’s presence has that kind of power.

you make an effort to stay silent in your own house. your bare feet tiptoe against the icy floors, carrying you to the sweet melody you’re fairly certain is your boyfriend in the kitchen. and undoubtedly it is. jeon jungkook has his back turned towards you– white tee clinging to his physique, his hair damp and disheveled, singing softly to himself while doing the dishes.

you hold your breath and hug him from the back, resting your cheek against his spine.

jungkook, momentarily confused, laughs when he realizes it’s you.

“good morning princess.”

“good morning jungkook”, you inhale him in. he smells like peaches and baby soap. and fresh laundry. “you smell heavenly.”

“I just came out of the shower–”

 “–hey!”, you cut him short when he gently peels you off him, unexpectedly devoid of warmth, but jungkook hugs you back in an instant; your ear against his ribcage, his chin on the top of yours.

“mmm, that’s better”, you mumble, “did you do the laundry? you smell like detergent.”

 you can almost reach out and touch the outlines of his smile. “you couldn’t do it last night so I thought I’d take some work off your shoulders. I folded your clothes as well!”

“aww, you didn’t have to do– wait, the washing machine is fixed?”

“yeah, I called the repairmen in the morning and they said they were coming over. I was pretty surprised at how quickly they arrived.”

“what happened?”

“one of the pipes got leaked somehow. I think I also did some damage when I tried to fix it. but don’t worry, it’s as good as new.”

“not worrying”, you let go of jungkook and let muscle memory guide you to the coffee machine, “why did you wake up so early?”

 “it’s one p.m. in the afternoon. what’re you talking about?”, jungkook laughs.

“it’s one p.m.?!”, you choke on your coffee, “the clock– but it was eleven–”

“it’s out of battery. I got new ones though”, jungkook points at the bags sitting on your counter.

“you went grocery shopping? you spent an entire lifetime while I slept!”, jungkook chuckles at your awe, “tell me from the beginning. what did you do?”

“well, I called the repairmen as soon as I woke up and then I went to take a shower. they were here by the time I was done. I made us breakfast while they fixed your machine, went grocery shopping afterward, came back and did laundry, here I am now”, jungkook kisses your forehead, “all while someone slept like a baby.”

“oh my god. thank you so much.”

I love you.

“you’re welcome, babe”, he smiles, “I gotta leave now. but listen, I got you ice cream, popcorn and those salty chips you seem to love so much. call me if you need anything else.”

“huh? why though?”, you peer in confusion. you’re usually not very big on snacking. and jungkook knows that. unless it’s your–

“your period is supposed to start tomorrow, genius”, he rolls his eyes, “you don’t remember, do you?”

you clearly didn’t.

apparently, he did.

you tiptoe forward to hug jungkook, too stunned to form any coherent word. you hope jungkook doesn’t notice the tears filling your eyes but when he lifts your face to gently kiss your eyelids, you realize that he knew you were gonna cry.

yeah, I definitely love you.

“hello, jungkookie’s girlfriend!”

kim taehyungs’s visibly enthusiastic face beams at you through the screen of your phone. your initial reaction is to wave brightly at him, despite the slight confusion of whether you accidentally called him when you picked up the phone to facetime your boyfriend.

“hi, tae!”, you say heartily, “gosh, it’s been a while since I saw you.”

“and whose fault is that, huh?”, taehyung’s voice is a warm breeze on a spring evening, “jungkookie tells me you’ve been like… hella busy”

“I was. I mean, I am. it feels like I am always busy these days”, you sigh, “but never busy enough for you guys! how are you?”

“good. busy as well, but good.”

“kook told me last night. you guys work way too hard.”

“wait”, taehyung exploded into laughter, “jungkookie was at your place last night?”

“...yeah?”

“our manager was looking for him and jungkookie was going on and on about how he was in his room all night and manager hyung didn’t knock loudly enough!”

“oh my god, he wasn’t supposed to be at mine yesterday?”

“no, I mean, he was done working but he didn’t tell anyone before leaving the dorm!”

“that might be my fault”, guilt fills your eyes, “I was doing laundry last night and my washing machine started leaking water everywhere. I panicked and called kook. I’m sorry”

“hey, it’s okay, no harm was done”, taehyung looks amused, “so you were doing laundry at midnight? no wonder jungkookie is obsessed with you.”

“obsessed with me, huh?”, you smile playfully, concealing the tiny somersault your heart does.

“he literally never stops talking about you”, taehyung grins widely, “bro is whipped”

“hmm, I did call bro’s phone, right? or did I accidentally call you?”

“how do accidentally call taehyung instead of jungkook? one starts with t and one starts with j”, taehyung suddenly looks disgusted, “unless you saved him as something weird, in that case, I don’t wanna know–”

“kim taehyung.”

“or you can just tell me that you missed me, you know”, taehyung flips his phone camera and you spot a dancing jeon jungkook in the middle of a huge practice room, “but since the only person you care about is jungkookie–”

“kim taehyung–”

“–you called him, okay?”, you hear taehyung’s laughter, “I was playing games on his phone. he’s practicing extra today.

“practicing extra?”

“he said you guys made plans to hang out tomorrow.”

“we– we did”, you’re puzzled. jungkook continues to dance furiously, his quick and precise movements almost defying gravity, completely unaware of his surroundings, “wait, we planned to meet tomorrow because both of us had a clear schedule. why is he practicing extra today?”

“hobi hyung was asking him the same thing”, taehyung nods his head in mock disappointment, “we don’t really have a free schedule tomorrow. but he said that if you couldn’t meet tomorrow it’d be a while before you did. right?”

“y-yeah”, you blink.

“soooo, yeah. as I said, bro’s so whipped.”

oh god. be still my wild heart.

“this boy”, you finally exhale after a pause; feeling bad that he’s overworking himself to meet your needs, feeling grateful that it’s worth it to him.

“this boy, indeed. no, actually, we’re kinda proud of how amazingly we raised him.”

“you really, really did. ya’ll should give out parenting lessons.”

taehyung chuckles, “okay, I’ll give the phone to him.”

“tae, don’t”, you smile, quickly stopping him from calling jungkook, “just tell him to call me whenever he’s free, okay? I’ll be up.”

“okay, then. take rest, okay? don’t overwork yourself.”

“look who’s preaching”, you shoot him a stern look, “the kings of overworking themselves. take care, okay?”

taehyung laughs, “yeah. come over to the dorm whenever you’re free. we all miss you.”

“I will. bye!”

“kook– stop it–”, you say in between a few puffs of breath, “you’re– god– tickling me!”

“am I?”, jungkook wiggles his eyebrows, and smothers his face on the exposed skin of your tummy once again, causing you to almost choke with another round of laughter. the sensation of his lips against your tummy has the butterflies inside going frenzy, but a part of you is scared shitless that it has nothing to do with him and everything to do with yourself.

you want to laugh; you want to cry. you wanna twirl into a knot and fly up in the sky. jungkook has no idea of the power he has over you– his body molds into yours, one his hands have shaped, a design he has drawn, kissed it into a sculpture.

you love him, you love this human being staring at you from between your legs with all the love in this whole fucking universe, kind and whole and happy and real, jeon jungkook, you love him so fucking say it.

I love you. I love you so much that I can’t deny it any longer, the promise stays silent on your tongue.

you wanna cry.

at least, you think you do.

“your heartbeat is going crazy”, jungkook calms down once he’s done tickling you out of your wits. he moves between your thighs and presses his ear against your heart space while gently laying his head on your chest.

yeah, do you know that is because I love you and not because you tickled the living lights outta me?

“princess?”, he asks quietly.

say it.

“princess?”, jungkook raises his head and looks at you, mildly concerned “are you okay?”

say something.

instead, you stare at him. you stare at his eyes. if eyes are actually a mirror of people’s souls, jungkook’s eyes perfectly represent his– filled to the brim with tenderness, tranquility, and mirth. a few years ago, you had read somewhere that humans were created from the burned-out embers of stars. you never believed it. the same folks who start wars, spill blood, stealing lying deceiving and doing everything evil, cannot be created from something so divine.

however, jungkook, over and over again, contradicts that belief. you have no doubt he’s born out of stardust. and fiery comets, northern lights, solar eclipses, everything magic.

“why are you crying?!”, jungkook’s anxious voice snaps you out of your reverie. without realizing you find yourself getting pulled up to sit on his lap, straddling his thighs. “is it me? did I do something?”

“itsh nn-not”, you utter weakly but the words come out as a stifled sob. when jungkook doesn’t understand what you’re saying, he completely loses his composure. he lets go of you and attempts to pry himself away, fairly convinced that he must’ve done something stupid. but you dig your fingers in his arms, trying to communicate with your firm grip that he did nothing wrong. it’s you, you’re the stupid one.

it takes him a few more seconds to realize that you’re crying for something else altogether, and only then does he relax. he wraps his arms around you, letting you break down in his little protective bubble.

what is wrong with me? why does every feeling of mine come out as tears?

“it’s okay, it’s okay”, jungkook coos, “breathe. breathe with me.”

“inhale with me”, he holds eye contact and carefully guides your breath, “good. now exhale. in. and out. it’s okay. I love you. you’re okay, princess.”

and

everything

just

freezes

for a moment.

for a moment?

seems like a lifetime.

you never realize how many types of ‘I love you’s there are until they’re spoken out aloud. most ‘I love you’s are expressed as a confession, while there are some which are born out of panic. I love you. do you love me back? these ‘I love you’s are full of anxiety, and a desperate longing for reassurance, for arms that’ll keep them safe. some are born out of anger and frustration. I’m doing this for you, because I love you, why don’t you understand? then there are those which are born out of pure terror because I love you but I’m afraid that all I’ll ever do is hurt you.

jungkook’s ‘I love you’ sounded like it was nurtured, a flower that bloomed inside a long time ago. like a blanket woven from your favorite human on the entire planet and falling asleep with someone inside your heart no matter how alone you feel outside; a promise.

not that any of you were in the right state of mind to realize that.

you and jungkook realize at the same time. the words that have been spoken out to existence.

he stares at you; you stare at him. devastated, mouth hanging, eyes bulging. none of you breathing.

jungkook closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and opens them again.

“that was not a mistake”, his voice is deep and low. you hold your breath, afraid to miss a single sound that comes out of his mouth, “I do. I will if you allow me to. not that I can help it– I mean, even if you don’t allow it I can’t help myself. I love you. it’s not like I can just un-love you! wait, why do I need your permission anyway? it’s my feelings we’re talking about! okay, but it does concern you”, jungkook looks mortified, “but still, you don’t have to say it back. it’s great if you do but like, there’s no pressure. just don’t tell me to un-love you because that one is none of your business, oka–”

you kiss him. you kiss the living lights out of him. jungkook doesn’t even register what’s happening, he just accepts everything– the way your lips smashes against his, the way your tongue envelops his, finding you in every corner of his mouth, feeling you in every inch of his skin; a drunkard clinging onto every last drop of alcohol yet never having enough.

jungkook is literally panting when you let go of him.

 “I was crying because I am in love with you. I have been in love with you for a while now and I didn’t know how to say so”, you confess. only a few words are enough to make realization flash in his eyes. after all, he knows you. he knows you well enough to know everything, even the things he doesn’t.

“I must’ve been a saint in my past life to deserve this”, jungkook closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours.

“I think this is your first life. you’re like the sugar in a cookie.”

“what? I thought I was the cookie!”, jungkook furrows his eyebrows, offended, “also, sugar isn’t good for you. what are you talking about?!”

you giggle in response.

“hey! take it back”, he overpowers you in a swift motion. he reels your bodies backward to hover over you, pinning your hands down on the mattress, smirking. “otherwise you’re gonna regret it.”

“regret? nah, I think I will enjoy it”, your smirk wipes off the one on his face.

“oh boy”, he sighs.

“jungkook?”

“yeah?”

“say it again”, you whisper.

“I love you.”

“again.”

“I love you.”

[dutiful-wildcraft]

Restoration Worship

Nikolai x Fat F! Reader Tags: monsterfucking, gargoyles, dubcon, overstimulation, tail sex, anal play, double penetration, squirting, cunnilingus, p in v, dirty talk.  I think thats about it, I think yall should know by now that every reader I write is fat, blacked out and wrote 3K words of gargoyle smut sooo… enjoy!

It had begun as a research effort, a little trip to the cemetery to hopefully procure some interesting insight into a little project she’d been working on for the museum. Eyes scanning over lichen covered graves and cracked mausoleums, words long faded in time. 

She’d seen the videos before. Kind strangers brushing away years of decay with a brush and patience. Who would we be without the knowledge from our predecessors after all? 

So with a passion for restoration and a need for busy hands she set to work, uncovering gracious prayers and one of the best cookie recipes she’d ever tasted set within the worn stone. 

It’s months before she comes across him. He’s a big boy, covered in lichen and the webs of spiders, stone stained heavily from the elements. Sharp claws curl into the pedestal he hunkers on, broad wings curled against his back, stone teeth bared in warning. 

Even like this he’s beautiful, strong features carved delicately in tarnished marble. 

She’d found her next project. 

A decade had passed since death had been at Nikolai’s doorstep, when he’d let the stone take him, closed himself off from the world to rest after an egregious injury. He’d watched over the lowly cemetery with weak eyes, until they too became covered. Until he’d lost himself to the void, consciousness falling into inky blackness as he waited amongst the trees. 

That is, until her.

His days had shifted from the chittering of squirrels and bird song to an incessant chatter. A soft english lilt that stirred something in his hazy mind. He likes the english. Past visions of old friends flash in his mind, warm dark skin, cigars, a mask made of bone. 

How could he forget? 

He strains, willing his senses back to life, listens harder for the soft voice amongst the tombstones. 

She talks to the dead, chattering away at graves that will never speak back to her. This graveyard is old, quiet, its occupants long passed over after they stopped burying the dead here, when their loved ones had long passed on themselves. 

She asks them questions, makes up stories, tells them about her day. She’s a museum conservator and she brings things back to life all the time. Making them shiny and new, loving them through hard work and careful hands so that others may get to love them too. 

And when she’s not talking she’s humming, or singing so off tune that even the birds grumble. But she’s laughing at herself,  looking up songs from the years written on the graves and playing those too, a little tune the deceased might be familiar with. 

Her voice bounces from grave to grave, and he realizes she’s cleaning them, scrubbing the dirt away and bidding them adieu when her task is finished. 

Sweet thing, he muses, wishing he could see her, wishing she would bring him to life too.

His dream comes true on a sunny afternoon, the summer rays warming his stone, waking him just a little more. 

She’s close, footsteps rustling the leaves at his feet as she circles him. 

“You keep watch don’t you?” she asks him seriously, and she’s right there. So close he can smell her, like blueberries and vanilla sugar, it’d make his mouth water if he could just move.

She speaks again, but he can barely register the words as warm gentle hands clear the infinite dark from his field of view. Brushing away vines and lichen.

“There! That’s better!” 

And there she is. A big soft girl, with sweet round cheeks flushed from the heat. He needs to hold her, crush her close and reward her for her kindness, but she’s gone just as quickly, promising to return to clean him properly, and his marble heart warms at the thought. He commits her form to memory, watching her soft braids sway against her back as she leaves.  

A longing seeping deep into his marrow as he lets the sleep take him again. 

She returns the following weekend, small spray rig and gentle cleaner in hand when she finds him again. She’s mindful, soft hands gently tugging at his limbs to test the durability before ambling her soft body onto his platform. It’s wonderful, to finally feel the heat of another against his skin, and he thinks if the sun weren’t touching him he could come to life now, tackle her into the soft grass and ravish her. He knows she’d be so sweet, whimpering and mewling under his touch. 

It would wait for another time. 

She works from the top down, soaking him with warm water before scrubbing him with soft bristle brushes. She’s delicate, leaning her soft body against his as she cleans, washing away years of dirt and moss. She scrubs behind his ears, in the bend of his horns, clearing the nests of insects from between his teeth. He revels in the feel of her, soft breasts and belly pressed to his skin, gentle hands stroking over the sensitive margins of his wings. Had he been mobile he’d be purring, with spread wings and stiff cock all over some gentle petting. 

He mourns when she leaves, water cooling against his stone as she packs up before nightfall. 

But it gives him time to practice.

It takes days, weeks, before he can move under the cover of night, limbs coming to life sluggishly, the world becoming more clear to his dulled senses. 

She returns like clockwork, spending the afternoons with him, chatting and humming, leaning against his platform as she eats her lunch. 

He can’t move far, just a few movements, but he gets greedy, finally willing his wings to open, letting them stretch pleasantly in the cool night air and freeze there when the sun freezes him again. 

She’s a bit startled when she returns, eyeing him with confusion and the broad reptilian wings spread proudly behind his back. Come closer love, they’ve always been this way.

Nevertheless she scrubs those too, warm hands petting over the webbing, ghost along the modified fingers of his wings. He has half a mind to wallow in the night, cover himself in more dirt if only to keep her trips regular. But he knows his time is coming to an end when she dusts away the last leaves from his pedestal. 

She has a final rest with him, his sweet keeper perched at his feet as she watches the sun disappear behind the trees. 

And finally, finally. As the soft light of the moon kisses his skin, he greets her. 

“Hello solnyshka” he purrs, voice low and gravely,  amusement crinkling pupil-less eyes, as he watches her nearly jump out of her skin. Scrambling away and whirling to take a look at the massive gargoyle.  He can see now, really see, and she’s lovely. Freckles dusting round cheeks, bulky denim and cotton hiding big soft curves underneath. 

She’s frozen, staring at him with wide eyes. He stretches, not unlike a cat, trembling slightly with the effort as he spreads his wings, lifts his hands above his head to crack his own spine, shaking away the stiffness from his tired bones. He relaxes again,  smiling at her fondly, revealing sharp fangs underneath. 

“I’m grateful for your work.” he calls again, taking a slow step off of his platform, clawed feet digging into the earth below. He is truly, his new keeper being the first ray of sun to truly grace his skin in decades. Just the light he needed to wake him from his slumber.  He needs to hold her, feel her softness under his claws. 

She swallows, clasping trembling hands in front of her. 

“I didn’t mean to be a bother, sir”

Sir.

He purrs at the honorific, but why did she think she was a bother? Had she not heard him?

“Not a bother, you’ve “restored” me” he chuckles, “quite well too” he adds looking over his limbs as he eases closer. “Call me Kolya.”

She repeats it, mimicking the accent just right, and being the polite thing she is, she gives him her name in return. It melts in his mouth like sugar, His pretty prize unaware of the hold she’s given him with just her name alone. 

“Come here, let me have a look at you”

She hesitates a moment before inching towards him, and he meets her halfway with a long stride, chin to his chest as he looks her up and down. His poor thing is so nervous. Fidgeting under his gaze, pulling, pushing and twisting at the joints of her fingers, desperate to get them to pop, to alleviate some of the tension in her body. 

He takes her hand in his, sliding a claw between her fingers to shake them loose, letting her soft little hand curl around his own. He dwarfs her, already half-hard with just her palm in his. He moves her carefully, flipping her hand over to trace a dark claw over the sensitive lines of her palm drawing a small shiver from her that has his cock twitching in interest. 

He continues, gliding his fingers up her arm, over her shoulder, toying briefly with the denim strap of her overalls. She’s bashful, keeping her eyes averted, a hot flush to her cheeks as he looks her over. 

“None of that” he chides, sliding his fingers beneath her chin, tilting her back. Her lips part, pupils blown as he smiles down at her, some of her nervousness melting away as he handles her so gently.  “So pretty, daragaya” and the stars in her eyes as he praises her break what little self control he has left. 

He’s quick, catching her round face in both hands and bending low, pressing a hungry kiss to her lips. She squirms briefly, hands flying up to grip his wrists in panic, he curls a tail around her calf, holding her neatly in place as he licks into her mouth, earning a soft gasp from his keeper as her lips part for him. 

Good gods, she even tastes sweet. 

He purrs happily into her mouth, savoring the taste of her flavored chapstick, the end of his tail flickering happily, brushing the soft curve of her ass. She’s panting now, a soft little whine bubbling from her throat at the contact. He dives low, licking a stripe across her jaw, reveling in the salt of her skin before nibbling and kissing his way down her throat, clawed fingers easily popping the cheap metal clasps of her outfit, pushing the denim away before yanking off the extra cotton shirt underneath. 

Nikolai thinks it should be forbidden for such soft curves to be hidden like that. She’s a vision, an angel with the most beautiful soft curves, and when he has her back in his den he’ll dress her in the finest silks and jewelry, pretty chains to hug her waist, dangle nicely between her breasts. Highlight all his favorite parts. He might even keep her bare, just for his eyes to see. 

She shivers in the cold, using her arms to cover her breasts as best as she could, eyes averted from his hungry gaze.  Why did she hide from him? There should be paintings of her, statues in her image. She was perfect. So warm and soft, he kneaded at the handles at her hips, clawed fingers tracing over the soft swell of her belly, the rolls at her sides, skin hot beneath his fingers. He huffs, snagging her wrists and holding them well above her head, using the extra digits at the ends of his wings to hold her there, pulled taught and vulnerable beneath his gaze.

With a sharp claw he rips away the scrap of fabric that covered her chest, large hands palming them eagerly, nipples pebbling under the warm drag of his thumbs. He hums, pinching and pulling at her perfect little tits, hard cock nudging incessantly at her belly, leaving glistening webs of pre-cum over her skin as she whimpers and gasps. 

“Kolya” she whines as he drags a hot tongue over her soft peaks, flicking his tongue over her pert skin before drawing a nipple into his mouth, nibbling and suckleing greedily. He breaks away, grinning up at her, sinking his teeth into the meat of her breast cheekily. She squirms, eyes squeezed tight and teeth dug into her plump lip as she tries halfheartedly to escape him. Though the wiggling only gives her tits a lovely jiggle that has him diving in again, nipping at her nipple just to earn himself another squeal. 

He kisses over the skin in a gentle apology before sliding down her belly, pressing a trail of hot kisses there before he reaches the seam of her panties, cute little curls peaking out around the edges at her thighs. He marvels at the dark stain of her arousal, pressing his nose into the soaked fabric and breathing deep. She bucks against his face, squirming madly to get some kind friction. Not so demure now are you?

“I’ll take care of you greedy girl, patience.” he warns, tail patting her ass fondly as he drags his tongue along the sodden fabric. He rips those away too, thick tongue sliding against her folds with little preamble, the resounding moan like music to his ears. Using his tail to tug her legs further apart, he lavishes her in earnest, slurping at her cunt like a beast, using his thumbs to spready her puffy lips apart. She’s heaven, sweet and tangy on his tongue, and he would stay here for hours, drinking her down until her legs gave out and then taking more. 

He sinks his tongue inside, licking into her tight heat as his nose brushes against her clit, humming wickedly as she cries and bucks. He takes control, dragging his claws up to grip her hips, guiding her into a nice and easy rhythm against his face. He loves every minute of it, reveling in the drag of her soaked folds against his tongue,  the broken whines as he breaks away to suck her clit. He drags her to the edge over and over, fucking his tongue back into her wet heat and nosing at her sensitive nerves until she’s gushing against his face with a choked cry. 

“So good, solnyshka” he praises, sitting back on his haunches to admire his work. He leans in, licking a hot stripe up her thigh, catching the errant rivulets of slick as they drip from her. 

“So wet, I bet we can make a bigger mess can’t we?” he purrs, dragging his knuckles against the soaked seam of her sex, drawing a tired whimper from her. She sags against his hold, chest flushed, and thighs soaked. He could devour her whole like this. 

He releases her, lifting her spent body into his arms, easing her down onto the clean pedestal that was once his. Pushing her legs apart he slides between them, sliding his neglected cock over her folds, using his tip to rub at her sensitive clit before sliding it along her body. He’s thick, head tapered to a near point, thick ridges rippling along underside of his shaft for a textured drag. Heavy balls kiss the seam of her sex as he rests there, tip drooling against her stomach. He needs her to see what she’s getting herself into, how much she’ll need to take for him. His soft girl looks up at him, big glassy eyes full of nervous anticipation. 

“I know” he coos, grinding himself against her skin, “you can take it, my perfect girl, we just need a little more room.”

He needs her pliant, well stretched to take him fully. With his claws as they were, using his fingers wasn’t an option,  but he does have another solution. Dragging a heavy palm through her slick he grabs hold of his tail, coating the tapered end thoroughly before guiding it toward her entrance, using a thumb to circle her clit as he slips inside. 

The tip is easy, no thicker than a couple of her fingers as it pushes its way inside, the glide nice and easy from her previous orgasm. He fucks nice and slow, thrusting the tip in shallowly until she’s whining for more. He leans over her, rutting his cock against the crease of her thigh as he sinks his tail in further, fucks into her with more speed, using his hands wisely to play with her tits, rolling her nipples between his fingers and nibbling at her lips to distract her from the stretch. She’s holding on for dear life, hands gripping his horns for purchase. 

Even as spent as she is, she clenches around him desperately, sweet pussy desperate to take as much of him as she can. He can’t wait to feel her pulsing against his cock. Wet and hot, and so so tight. 

He growls, rutting into her with more fervor. She’s close, chubby thighs clenching as he curls the tip of his tail a bit, just to bully more of his length inside of her. She’s lost in it, frantically kissing at his face as her peak draws closer and closer.  Sneaking a thumb against her clit she cums again, legs slamming shut against his tail as he fucks her through it, laughing as she sobs, shoving at him weakly as she gushes messily around him again, slick coating his abdomen and dribbling down the stone underneath. 

“Good girl, one more for me zoloste, I know you can do it.” He yanks her thighs apart pulling his tail from her greedy cunt and dragging her further down the pedestal, her plush ass hanging off the edge. He rests her thighs against his chest, kissing her ankle soothingly as he drags himself through her slick folds, thoroughly coating himself before lining up with her entrance. 

Even with the prep it’s a tight squeeze. He takes it slow, bullying his way inside her soaked heat, gummy walls squeezing him tight as he sinks in, whimpering as the ridges of his cock drag against her sore entrance.  He fucks slowly, pumping in shallow thrusts before he pulls out again, teasing her tired clit and pushing in again, head thrown back with victorious groan as he finally pushes himself to the hilt. 

Its a gorgeous sight, her pussy split open on the girth of him, legs spread wide and clit twitching as he fucks her with tight shallow circles. She’s a mess, cheeks streaked with tears and trembling against the stone, whimpers and little hiccups falling from her lips. He hushes her, sliding his palms against her thighs, catching her hands to curl his fingers in hers, anchoring her there as he picks up the pace. 

She’s already close, cunt clenching around him with every thrust. He fucks into her with earnest, her pretty fat pussy swallowing him down to the balls as the sticky slap of it echoes through the cemetery. 

“Fuck, taking me like you were made for it.”  he snarls bending over her to lick into her mouth, swallowing every little cry and plea as he fucks her mercilessly, soft body jiggling with the harshness of it. 

“You’ll give me anything won’t you? Let me fill up this pretty pussy.” he pants, yanking her closer, and with a sick knowing grin, his tail slides underneath her, slick tip toying with her asshole. “Let me fill this pretty ass too, wouldn’t you?”

“Anything you want, Kolya, please, please,”  she begs, his perfect girl cock drunk and hazy, tears spilling down her cheeks as she rocks into him for more. 

“Don’t even know what's good for you, silly girl, you’d let me tear you in two.” he chuckles, “ but I’ll give you a little taste.” His tip slides between her cheeks, already slick from her own juices.  He teases her there, flickering playfully at her hole before sinking in slowly, pushing just past her tight ring of muscle to fill her up, groaning at the feel of his own cock sliding against her walls. 

Her next orgasm takes her like a freight train, soft body arching and trembling as it ravages through her. He fucks her through it, pussy clenching him like a vice as he pulls his tail from her ass, sharp claws digging into the meat of her hips hard enough to draw blood as he chases his own end. 

Snarling like a beast he pounds into her, sinking himself deep as he comes with a low growl, painting her insides with long spurts. Filling her completely until his spend seeps out around his cock, spilling down her thighs and into the soft earth below. 

He holds them there like that, cock buried deep as he marks her from the inside out, his bulky head resting against her breasts as they both come down. 

His, his, his. 

His perfect soft girl, flushed and damp from sweat and slick, trembling hands carding though his dark hair.  Kind and gentle despite the way he ravaged her. 

And when she leans up, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips with a nervous giggle, he knows he’ll guard her for the rest of his days. 

[peachesandfictionalmen]

Jason Todd x best friend!paramedic!reader- gn

You always supposed you and Jason had become so close simply because your schedules synced.

You both occupied so much of the night you were bound to run into each other eventually. Sharing burgers and stories on rooftops with this man who is so gentle yet domineering to most helped to break up the graveyard shifts.

Your shared laughter broke the silence of lonely nights between calls and crimes.

The Red Hood quickly became a familiar face when he had helped you up to a rooftop or carry a patient and saved your life a dozen or so times. But you only got so close after you had to save him, hiding your identity becomes considerably harder when you’ve got a gunshot wound and a nasty concussion.

After that Jason sought out your company freely, and it started a rooftop routine that quickly turned into a friendship. Eventually Jason was cooking meals in your kitchen because he says leftovers are better than ramen every night, and having karaoke dancing parties in your living room. Spontaneous movie nights (more accurately mornings) that have your legs draped across Jason’s lap, him massaging your calves with his restless hands.

At some point Jason started being there all the time, he filled your nights and joined you the mornings that your friends couldn’t make brunch or when you both just needed the company. He became a constant comfort, the man your friends teased you about, a presence you craved when he was gone, and even though his smirk could make your stomach flip, neither of you wanted to risk your friendship to turn it into more.

-----------------------------------

It was one of those nights were you trudge up to your apartment at the end of a draining shift and fall straight into bed, assuming you make it that far. Swinging your front door open after fumbling with the key in the lock, the first thing you notice is the breeze that flows through the apartment. A chill going down your spine as the air hits you, you notice the open living room window. You carefully put down your work duffel, scanning the apartment with the flashlight off your belt, you find the answer to the open window.

A pair of familiar black boots, the same ones that normally end up next to your shoes at the door, give way to the rest of the familiar man, Jason, slumped over your coffee table in his currently disheveled Red Hood suit.

"hey doc" Jason lets out a grumble as he tries to move, the cuts across his body becoming more obvious as he clamors.

"careful, careful" You move to turn on the coffee table lamp before helping him get to the couch "sit, i'll grab my kit" sighing as your body wakes up from its groggy state.

Coming back to the couch you kneel in front of Jason to start with the wounds on his legs after making sure he didn't have any major injuries. "you gonna tell me what happened?" He was fine a couple of hours ago, when he'd brought you coffee between calls.

"Just a few scuffs s' all, i'm okay" He shifts on the couch at the sting of antiseptic.

"it looks like more than a few scuffs to me-" You continue to dab antiseptic into the wounds, noticing that a few might need to be stitched since their open and weeping.

"the guy was fond of knives" Jason shifts again, stiffly reaching over to push the hair out of your face. He hooks his finger behind your ear, lingering longer than necessary before leaning back. "thanks doc, i apologize for the intrusion."

You scoff lightly "Jay, you damn near live here, your hardly intruding." You finish one leg and start carefully looking over the other.

"I love you" He whispers it as casually as if he'd been asking what you wanted for dinner.

You glance up at him, startled, because you've never heard those words come from him, he's never used the word love towards anything. "love you too Jay", you try not to sound too nervous or desperate as your voice warbles with the unfamiliar phase, hands continuing to dab antiseptic at dried blood.

"no", suddenly your being hoisted up from your crouched position and into Jason's wide lap, his gun holsters digging into the side of your thighs. His calloused fingertips incline your chin so you're meeting his eyes. "i mean, I. Love. You." He punctuates each word and you're sure you've never heard him sound so scared.

Your hand settles against his chest and you feel every breath he takes. The familiar scent of leather, cologne and night air envelops you and you blink, finally responding. "I love you too"

His lips meet yours softly, like he's afraid you'll crumble. His grip on you tightens as you respond to the kiss and when your lips part from each other he lays his forehead against yours, repeating himself like the beginning of a mantra, "I love you".

[dickgraysonsbitch]

Hi! Just found your blog and it’s the best thing ever honestly. I was wondering if you could do a Jason Todd x reader where the reader deals with migraines and sensory overloads? If not that’s totally cool, have a nice day!

thank you so much for your ask!! this was actually my first request ever 😭 nonny you will go down in history 💖 a psa that while i do have mild sensory issues, i don’t have migraines, so any and all criticism is welcome!

warnings: pills/migraines | 1.2k words | dividers by @cafekitsune | requests open !

You fell onto the bed, tucking your knees in close to your chest. Fifty minutes. This goddamned headache had been the bane of your whole existence for fifty minutes, and you couldn’t even catch a bloody break. Every week, it would come back like clockwork, and while you had your routine (two advils, an eye mask, and soothing ocean noises all while sitting in a dark room with a singular, mildly-scented lavender candle with two out of three wicks lit) it didn’t change the fact that every minute that you lay there, the throbbing sensation around your head came back worse than before.

Grasping the tip of your nose, you tilted your head back in order to swallow the pills next to you. If you didn’t, you’d eventually gag on the water, and that wasn’t really a pretty sight to see. It was a miracle that you could even work as a hostess, especially on the graveyard shift, because it was taking every ounce of your willpower not to throw up at even the most tamest memories—a sleepy child with food flying out of their mouth, or a costumer shouting about how ‘insane’ you were when you had only gotten through your second advil of the day. It wasn’t enough, clearly, because if it had been, you wouldn’t be holed up in your dark room like a vampire with chronic pain.

One knock on your window jolts you from your ibuprofen-fueled haze. Two knocks. Three knocks—god, who doesn’t have patience in this stupid city? Not everyone can be a metahuman that travels at the speed of sound.

You open your window, head still pulsing, but all thoughts of another cup of mildly sweetened honey tea dissipates when the Red Hood smoothly slides into your living room/kitchen (it’s Gotham! Rent may be low, but you are poor as hell), removes his helmet, and shakes his head like a wet dog, the domino mask he was wearing underneath somehow not falling off. He shoots you a crooked grin before plopping himself on your couch, resting his legs on your coffee table.

“Shoes off,” you grumble. “And for the millionth time, I have a door for a reason. And I put food on that table, and I don’t want to see your nasty feet on it.” While other people might be a bit more reserved when talking to a Bowery drug lord, you had never given yourself the same boundaries. He’d crashed into your apartment when he was injured one night a few months ago, and since then, the Red Hood swore to one, pay off your window, and two, make sure you were safe. In his words, it was the best way to repay you for saving his life—even though you didn’t really do anything of the sort. Basic stitches that you learnt in high school, because that was what they taught when a vigilante could collapse in your house due to blood loss any minute in Gotham.

“Woah…” he raises his hands up in mock surrender, his eyes glinting with mirth. “What’s wrong? Rough shift?”

He can always tell, and you’ve decided to refrain against trying to lie to the only crime lord that you’ll likely ever be friend with, unless the Penguin unexpectedly decides to lumber up your fire escape. (Hood’s gotten you a spiked baseball bat for occasions like that, because you complained about any firearms). A pang of pain from you head. Mental note, put out the candle, no wicks. Darken the room even more, try and fail to go to sleep. You have your second job in the morning tomorrow. Mental note, take a melatonin if you can’t sleep, pack a few pills of ibuprofen and acetaminophen if you can’t get through your morning shift. It’s two AM right now, you could still get three hours of sleep if you—

A rough, calloused hand gently caresses your cheek, sending a tingling sensation down your jawline, all the way down to the base of your spine. Okay, woah. “Take a deep breath, baby.” Hood’s deep, gravelly voice shakes your from your stupor. Oh. You were slipping back into your anxiety induced panic attacks, and you hadn’t even noticed. You take one deep breath, but instead of feeling like you’re stuffing an oversized pillow into a kid sized cover, you’re at ease, letting fresh air flow into your lungs.

“How you doin’ tonight, huh baby? I saw your kitchen light on, thought I’d stop by.” Red Hood rubs a simple circle pattern into your back, letting you lean onto him.

“I bet…” you take a shallow breath. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

A smile cracks through onto his face. “Nah, baby, just you. All the girls have nothing on you, baby. You want to tell me about your day?”

Maybe it was just his voice, but you were almost immediately more at ease than you wee moments ago. Red Hood would’ve had a great calling as a therapist, or even a guidance counselor, but you weren’t sure that he’d like it if you called him, arguably the most fearsome man in Gotham, a service worker. Men were weird that way.

“C-can you talk to me, Hood? I don’t know… you have a nice voice, I guess. Makes me feel safe.”

You could swear that you heard his voice crack before he cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that. So… I guess I didn’t do much today. Oh! This one sleaze-bag was trying to rob this eighth grader, and I’d never seen this old guy, okay? The kid, his name’s James, he immediately just swings his backpack at him. And I come in, this dude’s already gotten a broken nose…”

He keeps talking about the unexpected things that happened during his day, but your eyes are just trained on Hood. His sharp jaw, his toned arms, his hair and the decent-sized white streak that runs through it, his soft lips and the J scar that covered his left cheekbone, and you wondered what it would be like to know him without the mask on. Would he still be the same, sweet guy that you knew?

In a sudden moment of courage, you take Hood’s hand and squeeze it, your heart pounding nervously against your ribcage. “Thank you, Hood.” You whisper. “I don’t know… I don’t know what I would be done if you weren’t here. I’d probably be still having a killer headache right now.”

He smiles, something that you’ve been seeing him do a lot more often than he’s known for. Red Hood, vigilante, drug lord, crime boss? Nowhere to be seen. You try your hardest to gaze past the white lenses over his eyes, concealing his eye color.

“Jay,” he mutters softly, soft enough that if you hadn’t been sitting so close, you wouldn’t have been able to hear a word that he said. “Call me Jay.”

The head comes come back sometimes, but you usually tend to ignore the headaches after a dose of acetaminophen and a head massage from who might be the world’s best vigilante, Jay. You may not know his full name yet, but you know his heart, and under all that armor, under the Red Hood, is a man with a heart of gold.

please please please let me know if i got anything wrong so i can edit it!

[skzdarlings]

the kiss ; skz ; lee know x reader

pairing: lee know/reader content info: friends to lovers, established friends w benefits but they are in love, your honour. reader is a gnc woman. top!reader, bottom!minho, some light dom!reader, sub!minho. mahandling, teasing, handjobs, rimming, spitting, strap-ons, mentions of past pegging, mentions of spanking/belting, lots of smooching word count: 3000 words.

this was originally going to be a multi-part story but i changed my mind thus this went to die in my graveyard of scraps. however i love this couple and i liked this scene and it seemed a shame to not post it at all haha. hopefully others will enjoy it too :)

<3

-

Raising your kid brother means you will forever occupy the nebulous, fucked up space of Not-Your-Parent, Still-Your-Mom, even when said kid brother has long stopped being a kid.  Jeongin will always be your first priority. 

Minho knows it too.  He has been your best friend for several years now.  He knows you.  He knows you will always stop what you’re doing if Jeongin needs you. 

Even at the tragic expense of an orgasm. 

It’s two o-clock in the morning, an hour after you got off work bartending.  Minho has to be up for his office job in four hours so he was grumbly when your horny ass woke him up with a bulge pic.  You like to consider yourself above obnoxious hormone-driven decisions, but that’s before the strap-on straps on.  Several inches of silicone later and you’re taking (tasteful) fake-dick dick pics in the bar bathroom. 

Minho answers the door shirtless, his grey sweatpants betraying his already chubbed up semi, and with an extraordinarily icy glare that not even his sleep-mussed blonde hair can diminish.  He snarks at you until you curl your fingers into his dark roots and yank. 

It takes only minutes to manhandle him back into his bed, moments to get his sweatpants off, and seconds to have your fingers around his throat and his dick gliding through your spit-wet fist. 

You end up horizontal across the middle of his big bed.  You’re still in a t-shirt and jeans, your boots and leather jacket somewhere on the floor.  Minho is naked and covered in little love bites, his body a fading canvas of your previous times together.  The sight never fails to make you ache, your fingers tracing the evidence of your own hungry desires. 

You kneel between his open legs and he impatiently pries open your belt.  His mouth ticks up in an amused grin as you let him whip the belt out of its loops.  He tosses it behind him, his smile a smidgeon cocky even while on his back. 

You would never call him cute, because he’d probably slap and correct you (he’s handsome, thank you very much), but he is.  Cute.  Sweet.  The way he cocks his head, the way he gazes up at you.  There’s an erratic heartbeat in both your cunt and actual heart, the latter more pronounced than usual.   Your eyes have already adjusted but the blue darkness of his bedroom seems fuzzier, everything around him disappearing in a blurry smog of relative insignificance.   

“You’re staring,” he says, his fingers crawling under your shirt.  His knuckles brush your nipple through your sports bra.  He pulls a face when he pinches it meanly. 

You grab both his wrists and yank his hand out of your shirt.  He does not look remotely chagrined, instead he is beaming with satisfaction, like he was the one who planned your reaction.  

You pin his hands above his head then lean over him.  His playful arrogance fades, his gaze jumping to your mouth then back to your eyes.  It brings your attention to his mouth, pink and wet, his bottom lip plump and bitten from his own teeth running over it. 

You have kissed him before.  It isn’t a habit but also isn’t strange.  You were the first to ever initiate a kiss.  It was the third time you slept together and the first time you properly came from fucking someone.  The base of a toy in a strap-on can sometimes provide some stimulation against your clit, depending on a few factors, but you usually have to be pretty worked up to even get close. 

He got you more than close, taking you right over the edge.  You all but fell onto him with the desperation of your kiss.  His ankles were hooked behind your back, his face warm where your thumb stroked his skin, where you raked fingers into his sweaty hair as you sunk deep inside him with dick and tongue at once. 

You usually kiss like that: in the throes of something especially electrifying.  You think this might be the first time you kiss him so simply, just like this, with clarity and consciousness, spurred by affection more than thoughtless passion.  A deliberate kiss, as you lean down and do just that, his lips warm and open against yours. 

His eyes close, his brow furrows.  

The thing about Minho that turns you on the most is how he… well, how he Minhos.  His smirking, his snarking, his fake impatience, how much he dishes out.  He’s your friend, someone you��ve sat beside on weekend camping trips, resting in comfortable silence around a fire while Jeongin and his friends cause a ruckus somewhere down on a beach.  Minho will sit on your couch with his feet in your lap, his hat backwards, wearing glasses so he can read the nutritional content on a snack bag while you carelessly scarf down its contents.  He’ll tease you kindly, let you playfully knock your knuckles under his chin.  He’ll cook you meals when you haven’t eaten all day, too busy with everything to take care of yourself, but he’ll wave away any expression of gratitude after the fact.  He’s good, utterly, but he likes to be trouble too. 

And that’s what really gets you going, something you admit can’t be replicated with any other lover.  Because they aren’t Minho.  And that’s the best part. 

Like this.  Playful and catty and mad you woke him when he has work tomorrow, but turning soft and pliant under your body.  His brow is drawn tight as you kiss him, like he can’t comprehend the sheer pleasure of it.  He breathes in through the kiss, a trembling breath that flutters on your lips, then he cranes his neck to kiss you again. 

You press his head into the bed.  Somewhere in the simmering warmth of your kiss, your hands shift so your fingers lace and push against the bed.  He makes a keening sound, his back arching, kiss breaking with a deep breath as his hips and cock and thighs make contact with your jeans.  

He turns his face to the side and closes his eyes.  His chest moves with the quickness of his breathing, somehow looking like you’ve fucked for him hours when all you’ve really done is kiss him. 

His fingers tighten around yours when you kiss his exposed cheek, down his jaw, down his neck.  He rips his hands out from under yours only to throw them around your shoulders.  His fingers dive into your hair, rough and demanding when he pulls your head back to his.  His mouth opens for a kiss, his tongue slashing against yours when you give it to him.  You kiss him hard, kiss him until his fingers go weak and his arms are shaky, clinging to your neck like a lifeline. 

“That’s it, baby. So good,” you say, a slur of words without thinking too hard.  You blink with some amazement at the noise he makes, the way his whole body rears up against yours.  You cradle his hips and lick his red over-kissed mouth.   

Then your phone buzzes.  He hears it first, or at least registers the reality of it first, head whipping to his bedside table where you left it.  He is already glaring when you lift your face.  Your head is spinning, your mouth as raw as his.   

He digs his fingernails into your back through your t-shirt.  He has also painted something of a mosaic there, faded thin lines from overeager fingers scratching when you fuck him.  You obviously cannot directly feel when you are inside him, but he makes sure you feel it other ways.  Sometimes you feel it for days.  

He’s still glaring.  God, that expression really does get you so hot.  You are literally throbbing under the silicone in your jeans. 

“You’re going to check that, aren’t you, asshole,” he says with more resignation than genuine malice. 

“I should,” you say.  “Just in case it’s—”

He makes a noise that starts as a sigh and turns to a scream.  You rub your ear after. 

“Your dick isn’t even real,” he says, throwing an arm over his eyes, “and you still manage to disappoint me.”

You laugh, so fond of him.  Your pounding heart is not slowing down.   It’s hard to look away from him, though you manage it long enough to see your phone light up with a text alert. 

He grabs your chin, turning your face back to his. 

“Make me come first, or I’m biting it,” he says.

“B-biting what?”

“Your dick.  I’ll chew the head off.”

“Please don’t gnaw on my dick.  It was expensive.”

“Orgasm. Now.”

He throws his arms out to the sides, eyebrows lifted in an expression of pointed expectation. 

His position briefly reminds you of the first time you ever did this, years ago.  You never complained about the obligations that came with raising Jeongin, but it wasn’t exactly easy.  Between leaving school to work and shirking your social life, you made more than a few sacrifices. You off handedly expressed the vaguest desire for something more substantial than one night stands but not as serious as a relationship, given your responsibilities, and Minho replied by throwing his arms up and giving you that exact same look. 

Well? his challenging eyes have always said.  You have never backed down from a challenge. 

You run your hands down his sides.  His arms jerk because it tickles, but you hold him down to lick and bite from hip to pit to shoulder.  He wriggles under you, his breath getting shallower.  His dick twitches when your hand curls tightly around it. 

You know how to make him come quickly.  You know his body like a well-loved song, every peak and crescent long since memorized. 

You manhandle him onto his front.  He gives in when you push down his head and shoulders, lets his knees push his backside up, up, up.  His toes curl and uncurl, his voice breaking into choppy little mewls that make you throb.   You spit on his hole and your mouth chases it, tongue doing what your dick would have done.   Your other hand is under him, stroking in steady tandem.  

You don’t rush.  It won’t take long anyway because he isn’t trying to hold back. 

That makes you wonder, for a moment.  If he even could hold his orgasm.  Your sex doesn’t exactly resemble conventional intercourse between a man and a woman so it’s not usually too important if he stays very hard or not, greedy with his orgasms and never restraining long.  Denial isn’t something you’ve ever played with.   Prolonged orgasm control is something of a commitment in its own right.   Years ago, when you started this, you were avoiding those commitments.  

Now…  Well, Jeongin is older, living in a university dorm.  You live in a flat on your own.   You aren’t seeing anyone else and haven’t so much as hooked up with a stranger in months.  You know Minho hasn’t slept with anyone else in more than a year.  

You think about how he kissed you back.  You think of his backwards hats, his laughter, his sighing as he wraps himself around you.   

You imagine slowing your touch, telling him to hold it.  Don’t come.  Because I’m going to fuck you tomorrow, because you’re mine, and I want you ready for it. 

Your mouth gets him wet enough that spit runs down his skin.  You circle your thumb around his rim, press in, and murmur, “Wish I could come inside you.” 

He comes like that, shoving his face into the bedcovers to stifle his strangled yell.  Minho is always loud when he finishes, maybe something to do with being an only child and latchkey kid to boot.  He has lived alone for most of his life so he has never had a reason to be quiet.  As someone who comes silently, you like it, that unabashed eruption of pleasure that he can’t really hide. 

You nip the curve of his ass and narrowly dodge the backward swipe of his hand.  He keeps his face buried in the blanket, grumbling nonsense as he finally lowers his hips.  You straddle his ass and smooth your hands up his spine, watching him shudder under your touch.  You run your hands up and up, over his shoulders to cup his face and lift it out of the blankets.

“Up more,” you say. 

He’s always at his nicest and most obedient right after coming.  With only a little huff, he pushes his torso up and tips his head back.  His eyes flick up to where you lean over him.  The bulge of your packed toy is sitting on his ass. 

“Open,” you say. 

He opens his mouth, still gazing up and back at you.  Those dark eyes make all the blood in your heart rush lower, thumping frantically.  His head falls all the way back when your hands circle his throat to hold him there.  He only closes his eyes when you spit in his mouth, lips closing around it as he moans like you just gave him the sweetest gift in the world. 

“Good,” you say, kissing the top of his head.   

He groans and flops back down, then brings his arms forward to fold and cushion them under his head.  He lifts his hips to grind his ass against your bulge, probably smirking into his elbow. 

“Better check your phone,” he says.  He yelps when you slap his ass.  

“You’re lucky you tossed that belt away, smartass,” you say.   

That degree of playing is also not something you have ever done, though you’ve skirted the idea once or twice.  Your red handprint on his ass attests to it. 

“Promises, promises,” he mutters. 

You are tempted to give him another smack for good measure, but it will only work you up more.  Instead you muster the resolve to pull away.  His discarded sweatpants are the closest fabric so you wipe your hands on it.  It earns your own backside a smack as you crawl to his bedside table. 

“Hey,” you say, menacing but humorously so. 

He knows you have no intention of following through with any threats, so he clamps both hands on your ass and squeezes.  He cackles evilly before rolling out of arm’s reach.  

Shaking your head and smiling, you check your phone.  It is Jeongin.  You can’t help but facepalm when you read his message. 

Hi it’s Jeongin from family.  Your brother Jeongin.  Hello. We went to a Party far away and Uber dropped us off but now they don’t have anyone to pick us up!! :(  Please rescue us.  There are woods and trees and maybe bears.  and we are drunk.  Nothing Illegal

Ah, fuck.  Nothing says illegal substance like swearing the opposite unprompted.  You would know; before your parents died, you were indubitably on track to being the problem child.  Your first year of university was a mess you intended to straighten out later, but later never came.   Your parents died, Jeongin was still a minor, and you made a series of hard choices overnight.    

After all these years, you’re still not sure if your wayward experiences made you a better pseudo-parent or a worse one.  Maybe ignorance would have made you less panicky all the time.  Maybe it would have made you worse. 

Minho ducks into the bathroom while you text with Jeongin.  You are lacing up your boots when Minho returns with your toothbrush, one he keeps for your overnight visits.  Looking at his thighs in his boxers, the hickey poking out just under the hem, makes you wish tonight was one of those nights.  Tragically, the only one being deprived of an orgasm is you. 

You scrub the brush around your mouth, just enough, then swallow.  He leaves again, your eyes on every step of his retreat. 

“You’re staring again,” he says from the bathroom. 

“Duh,” you say.  You go back to tying your boots but your mind is elsewhere.   You are thinking about Jeongin and his friends, of course, but you are also thinking about Minho.  A lot about Minho.  Mostly about Minho.  Arousal is still coursing through your veins, never mind all the emotions you kept so carefully tucked away for so long. 

Suddenly, it’s all you can think about.  He’s all you can think about. 

Minho kneels behind you on the bed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.  He kisses behind your ear, then your neck, your clothed shoulder.   Your fingers dance anxiously over your knees. 

“Don’t tempt me,” you say. 

It isn’t a joke but he laughs, mistaking it for one.  “Sure,” he says.  “You just can’t take your own teasing.” 

“Minho.”  

“Tyrant.”

You turn, grasping his chin so quickly he gasps.  You guide his face to yours and kiss him. 

This kiss is slower, bold and open-mouthed.  Hot.  His moan is a light sound at the back of his throat and it zaps through you like an electric bolt.  He drags his nails down the middle of your back, making every hair stand on end.  When the kiss eventually comes apart, he presses his forehead to yours. 

You are both breathing hard. 

“I’m not working tomorrow night,” you say, your voice a low rumble.  You swipe your thumb over his bottom lip.  “Can I come over?”

He nods.  Minho can be loud to say the least, but sometimes his voice gets so delicate that it turns your brain to mush.  He talks like that now, all soft and sweet, so close to your mouth.  “You promised to fuck me tonight,” he says. “I’ll be thinking about it all day now.”

“Me too,” you say.

“Mm.”  He flops over and rolls so his back is to you.  “That’s too bad for you.”  He accompanies this comment with a wiggle of his hips. 

You can’t help but smile at him. 

“See you then, brat,” you say. 

“You’ll see me in your dreams,” he says, accompanying it with a dramatic yawn.  “And when you masturbate tonight.  Good night!”      

[gravegrime]

Ya ever just accidentally create an entirely new magic system for a previously established story that's WAY better?

And now you gotta go back and fix everything you came up with previously so it works with the new system?

I'm not bringing this up for any reason :')

[lvoryingrid]

If you’re here

Leon Kenedey x fem!Reader

Synopsis: During the Racoon City incident (Y/n) teams up with rookie cop Leon Kennedy to escape the chaos and the undead. As the terror unfolds around them, their shared pain and fear draw them closer, each finding solace in the other's presence.

The police station was cloaked in an oppressive silence, the kind that seemed to seep into the very marrow of (Y/n)’s bones. Faint, guttural groans of the undead reverberated from somewhere deep within the labyrinth of darkened hallways, a chilling reminder of the horrors lurking just out of sight.

Her footsteps echoed softly against the tiled floor, each cautious shuffle amplified in the vast emptiness. Shadows stretched and twisted in the dim, flickering light, her trembling flashlight casting feeble beams that barely pierced the gloom. In her other hand, she gripped a heavy wrench, her knuckles white as she fought to steady her racing heart, each thudding beat a desperate plea for survival.

(Y/n) couldn’t stop thinking about how drastically her world had unraveled in just a few harrowing days. The tedious hum of her old life—answering incessant phone calls, meticulously filing paperwork, and painstakingly organizing schedules—now seemed like a far-off memory, a fragile daydream she had taken for granted.

She used to roll her eyes at the monotony, grumble about the endless cycle of reports and meetings, but now, she’d give anything to return to those simpler times. Back then, her biggest catastrophes had been spilled coffee staining her blouse or a file mislaid at the worst possible moment. Now, her survival was hinged on split-second decisions, and every breath she took felt like a fragile bargain struck with fate.

The dread coiled tightly around her chest, its grip as unyielding as a vice, an invisible weight that pressed harder with each passing moment. What had been her sanctuary of routine and order was now a chilling monument to chaos, a graveyard where the ghosts of her normalcy lingered just out of reach.

She pressed her back against the icy wall, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps as she fought to steady herself. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood, a scent so sharp it clawed at her throat, mingling with the acrid stench of decay.

She clenched her eyes shut, but the darkness offered no comfort—only the haunting afterimages of what she had seen. Her coworkers, once familiar faces that greeted her with tired smiles or idle banter, now frozen in grotesque expressions of terror, their lifeless eyes etched into her memory. The vivid scenes of chaos and carnage replayed in her mind, as unstoppable as a nightmare she couldn’t wake from.

A noise snapped her back to reality—a faint shuffling sound, slow and deliberate. Too precise to be a draft, too heavy to be a rat. Her breath hitched, and her pulse quickened, each beat a frantic drum against her ribcage. She forced her eyes open, scanning the dimly lit corridor. The emergency lights sputtered fitfully overhead, their erratic flashes throwing jagged shadows along the cracked walls. The flickering glow played cruel tricks on her vision, turning every shadow into a sinister figure.

“Focus,” she whispered to herself, the sound of her voice barely more than a breath. It was a feeble mantra, a thread she clung to in the oppressive silence. “You can’t lose it now.”

The noise came again, louder this time. A measured scrape of boots dragging against the tiles, each step deliberate, sending a fresh wave of tension racing up her spine.

Her knuckles whitened around the wrench as she edged closer to the wall, her heart hammering in her chest. She wanted to call out, to demand who—or what—was there, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she froze, her ears straining for every sound.

“Hello?”

The voice startled her so badly she nearly dropped to the floor. Deep and firm, it resonated through the corridor with a confidence that cut through the suffocating silence. But beneath the authority, there was a raw edge, as though the speaker had been pushed far beyond his limits yet still refused to break.

(Y/n) hesitated, her breath catching in her throat as she slowly turned toward the sound of the voice, eyes wide and searching the shadows. Her pulse spiked as she finally spotted him: a man, standing at the far end of the corridor, silhouetted against the flickering emergency lights. The instant their eyes met, she felt a flicker of something familiar, like a dream half-remembered. But there was no time to dwell on it.

“Don’t shoot,” she whispered, her voice trembling, the words coming out almost like a prayer. She instinctively raised her hands, a weak attempt to show she was no threat, her fingers spread as if to placate whatever danger loomed ahead.

The man froze for a moment, then took a step forward, his boots echoing ominously on the cracked tile floor.

“Hey! You’re okay?” His voice was low but firm, a hint of reassurance in the midst of the chaos. He slowed his pace as he approached, his expression unreadable but focused. A handgun was gripped tightly in his right hand, its barrel pointed toward the floor, but the tension in his posture betrayed his readiness for anything. His eyes darted behind him, scanning the corridor with sharp intensity, as if expecting someone—no, something—to lurch from the shadows at any moment.

The motion startled (Y/n), snapping her back to the immediate threat, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him, her mind struggling to process his presence.

“I… I think so,” she stammered, her words stumbling over the shock. Slowly, she lowered the wrench she had been holding like a weapon, her hands still shaking, the steel weight feeling too light and useless in the face of whatever nightmare was unfolding around them. She felt a thousand questions pulse through her brain, each one colliding with the next in a frenzy she couldn’t contain. Who was he? Why was he here?

The man seemed to sense her confusion. With a quiet exhale, he gave a wry smile—one that didn't quite reach his eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as if trying to reassure her, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed his unease.

“Leon Kennedy,” he said, his voice steady despite the chaos swirling around them. “Rookie cop. It’s my first day.” His smile faltered for a moment, but he held her gaze, as if trying to make her believe the absurdity of the situation. “You?”

A sudden, painful jolt of recognition shot through her chest. Leon Kennedy. The name slammed into her mind like a freight train, and for a moment, the world around her seemed to blur. Her heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat.

Leon Kennedy.

The name clicked into place, and with it, a memory. She remembered it so vividly: earlier this week, when she'd carefully arranged the welcome package on his desk—a neatly wrapped box, a crisp card reading "Welcome to the RPD!" in cheerful script. He was supposed to spend his first day filing paperwork, getting acquainted with the precinct, and meeting the rest of the team.

But that was before. Before everything had gone to hell.

“(Y/n) (L/n),” she said, her voice barely a whisper as the reality of the situation slammed into her. She swallowed hard, trying to push through the shock. “Secretary… I… work here. Or, I did.”

Her voice faltered, the words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. The weight of the truth—the sense that everything she once knew had shattered in an instant—pressed heavily on her chest. The silence between them seemed to stretch, filled with the unspoken recognition that whatever had once been normal, whatever routines they had lived by, were gone.

Her eyes darted down the hallway, and the brief moment of connection with Leon evaporated as the faint, agonizing groans began to swell in the distance—low, guttural, unmistakable. They were coming.

“We need to move,” she said, her voice sharp and urgent, the words tumbling out before she could second-guess them. Her head whipped back to Leon, her heart racing. “They’ll be here soon.”

Leon nodded, his eyes briefly flicking to the hallway, where the groans of the undead grew louder with every passing second. He didn’t need to say anything—his grip on his pistol tightened, and without a word, he gestured for (Y/n) to follow him. She didn’t hesitate. Despite the fear gnawing at her insides, there was something about the calmness in his actions that steadied her nerves, even if just for a moment.

“Stay close,” Leon muttered, his voice low, but filled with determination. He didn’t know how long they could keep moving through this nightmare, but for now, he had to keep her safe.

(Y/n) nodded, her hands gripping the wrench tightly as they moved through the hall, their footsteps echoing too loudly in the otherwise oppressive silence. Every creak and groan of the building felt like it could signal the arrival of the undead at any moment, but Leon remained steadfast in his forward motion, the coolness in his demeanor a stark contrast to the panic she felt bubbling just beneath the surface.

The tension between them was palpable as they moved, their bodies brushing occasionally in the narrow spaces, the proximity making the world feel both impossibly small and overwhelming. She didn’t want to acknowledge the pull she felt toward him, the flicker of something deeper than simple survival, but it was there, undeniable. Each time their eyes met, a brief spark ignited between them—one that sent a warmth spreading through her chest, despite the icy terror of their surroundings.

Suddenly, a deafening bang shattered the eerie silence that had settled over the police station. The walls trembled, and for a split second, everything seemed to freeze in place.

The sound came from somewhere deep within the building, too close for comfort. The groans of the undead—low and guttural—were suddenly replaced by a much more disturbing noise: the unmistakable pounding of footsteps, too fast, too purposeful.

(Y/n)'s blood ran cold. The undead were running.

She didn’t have time to react before Leon’s hand shot out, grabbing her arm with a vice-like grip. “Shit! Move!” he barked, his voice urgent, filled with a raw edge of panic she had never heard before.

Instinct kicked in. The wrench slipped from her trembling fingers as they broke into a frantic sprint down the hallway. Adrenaline surged through her veins, and her mind buzzed with the overwhelming need to survive. The sound of their footsteps pounding against the floor was drowned out by the deafening chaos behind them—the gurgling, growling, and the rapid shuffle of feet that made it clear the undead were closing in fast.

Leon led the way, his eyes flicking from side to side, searching for any sign of an escape. The building felt like a maze, every corner sharp and unfamiliar. The flickering lights overhead offered little reassurance, casting erratic shadows that seemed to mock them as they ran. Each hallway twisted in on itself, turning their flight into an endless blur of desperation.

A growl from behind—closer now—made (Y/n)'s heart skip a beat. She risked a glance over her shoulder, her breath hitching as a figure lurched around the corner, its limbs twisted and jerking unnaturally. But it wasn’t just one. More followed, an unstoppable mass of death, their grotesque forms shifting into view one by one.

Her pulse pounded in her throat. The sound of her breath was ragged, shallow, as she pushed herself harder, running faster, but the undead were getting closer. She could hear them gaining ground, their growls growing louder, by the second.

“Right there!” Leon shouted, pointing to a small door at the end of a corridor. He grabbed the door handle and threw it open. The small room beyond was dark, cramped, but it would have to do. There was no time to question their options.

“Get in!” Leon urged, his voice strained as the noise of the undead grew closer, the pounding of their steps reverberating through the walls.

Without thinking, (Y/n) stumbled into the room, Leon close behind. He slammed the door shut just as a faint, cold draft swept through the cracks. The door rattled as something heavy slammed against it, followed by the terrifying sound of clawing, scraping. The creatures outside were trying to get in, desperate and relentless.

In a rush of motion, Leon slammed the deadbolt into place. His chest heaved with each labored breath, and his face was bathed in a sheen of sweat, his normally composed demeanor now marred by the sheer weight of the situation. He glanced around the small, dimly lit room, his eyes searching for anything that could help them.

The room was stifling, the air thick with the smell of sweat and fear, the faint sound of scraping claws against the door echoing through the small, windowless space. It was barely big enough for them both, their bodies pressed too close together in the dim light that barely reached the corners of the cramped room. The heavy weight of the silence between them felt suffocating, like the world outside had fallen away entirely.

Their breath came in jagged bursts, sharp and rapid as they both tried to steady themselves, their chests heaving with the effort of their frantic sprint. Leon’s hand gripped the pistol at his side, his knuckles pale from the tension, but his eyes never left the door, watching the tremors as the undead outside clawed at it, their frantic, inhuman noises getting louder with each passing second.

(Y/n)’s heart raced, the adrenaline still pumping through her veins, but she could feel the physical toll of their escape. Her legs ached, her body trembling with the aftershock of the sprint.

She couldn’t stop glancing at him. Leon. He was standing so close, his presence oddly comforting despite the chaos around them. She could feel the heat from his body radiating against her, the proximity unsettling in the midst of all this terror. She barely noticed how close they were until the sharp intake of air from his lungs made her acutely aware of the space between them—or rather, the lack of it.

They were both breathing heavily, and even in the small, quiet room, every movement felt amplified. Her hands were still shaking, though she hadn’t noticed until now, clutching her sides, trying to calm herself. She swallowed, but the lump in her throat wouldn’t go away.

She risked a glance up at him, her (e/c) eyes meeting his, and saw the tension written clearly across his face. His lips were pressed into a tight line, his jaw clenched. He didn’t look scared—not really—but there was something else in his gaze. Something raw. Something she couldn’t quite place.

“We’re okay for now,” Leon murmured, his voice low, as if speaking too loudly would break the fragile peace they’d found in this dark little room. He shifted slightly, turning his back to the door and his face toward her, eyes flicking quickly over her face, scanning her for signs of injury.

(Y/n) nodded slowly, though the words were caught in her throat. Okay for now was a far cry from safe—she could feel the tremors running through her, and it wasn’t just from the running. The reality of what was happening, what was coming for them, threatened to swallow her whole.

The moment seemed to stretch out, and for a heartbeat, it was as if the world had stopped moving, leaving them suspended in the stillness of the room. She could feel Leon’s breath on her neck, the subtle shift of his body, the quiet way his shoulders flexed as he adjusted his grip on his weapon. Every inch of him seemed alert, calculating, as though he was ready to face whatever came next.

Leon exhaled deeply, his breath steadying as the pounding on the door behind him slowly faded into sporadic thuds and scraping. The undead were persistent, but for now, the thick metal and deadbolt held firm. His grip on his pistol relaxed slightly, though the tension in his shoulders lingered.

He turned to look at (Y/n) more closely, his sharp blue eyes scanning her face for any visible injuries. She seemed unharmed, but the wide, glassy look in her eyes spoke volumes about the fear gripping her. Her breath was still shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she leaned against the wall, clutching her sides.

Leon cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “You okay? I mean… physically?” His voice was quieter than before, tinged with genuine concern.

(Y/n) blinked, snapping out of her daze. “Yeah,” she managed, her voice shaky but audible. “I think so. Just… catching my breath.”

Realizing they might be stuck in this cramped room for longer than either of them would like, Leon shifted his stance and leaned his back against the wall. He slid down into a crouch, resting his forearms on his knees, the pistol still securely in his hand but no longer raised. The movement was calculated, deliberate—he wanted to look less imposing, more approachable.

“So, (Y/n)… you’ve been at the station a while?” he sighed, keeping his tone casual, as if they were chatting over coffee instead of hiding from the undead. His hand glided through his golden locks, a futile attempt to calm himself.

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice steadying slightly, plopping down beside him. “Three years. It wasn’t exciting, but it was steady. And the people… they were good.” Her eyes glazed over for a moment, memories flashing before her—coffee breaks with the officers, small jokes shared in the hallway, the familiar hum of the station when it was alive with activity. Her throat tightened. “Most of them, anyway.”

Leon nodded, understanding the weight behind her words. He decided not to press further, sensing that the memories were too raw. Instead, he shifted the focus back to her. “So, what made you want to work at the station in the first place?”

(Y/n) hesitated, caught off guard by the question. “I guess… I liked the idea of being part of something bigger. Helping people, even if it was just behind the scenes. My dad was a cop, so I kind of grew up around it.” She paused, a small, wistful smile tugging at her lips. “He used to joke that I’d end up in uniform someday. Guess I took a different route.”

Leon’s eyebrows lifted slightly, a glimmer of interest in his eyes. “Your dad was a cop? That’s cool. Where did he work?”

“Here,” she said quietly. “At the RPD.” Her gaze dropped to the floor. “He passed away a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Leon said sincerely, his voice soft.

“Thanks,” she murmured, her fingers idly tracing patterns on the dusty floor.

(Y/n) took a deep breath, the weight of her father's memory pressing against her chest. She tilted her head slightly, glancing at Leon. "What about you? Why'd you decide to join the force?"

Leon leaned back against the wall, his eyes briefly flickering toward the door, still braced against the relentless scratching and groaning from the other side. He let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle. "You really want to know?"

"Yeah," she said, her voice firm but curious. "Feels like a good time to get to know my fellow survivor."

He smiled faintly at that, the corners of his mouth lifting just enough to soften the tension etched into his face. "Well, believe it or not, I always wanted to be a cop. Thought it was the best way to make a difference, you know? Help people, protect them." He glanced at the gun in his hand, the weight of it seemingly heavier now. "But, uh… this wasn’t exactly the first-day orientation I was expecting."

(Y/n) couldn't help but smile at that, despite the grim reality around them. "Yeah, I bet. This probably wasn’t in the welcome packet."

(Y/n)’s smile turned wistful, a flicker of regret passing through her expression. She looked down at her hands, her fingers idly picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. "You know," she began softly, "I was actually supposed to be the one to welcome you here."

Leon blinked, surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah." She nodded, her gaze lifting to meet his. "It’s kind of a thing we do. Whenever a new officer joined the station, we’d try to make it feel like home. I even had a little present ready for you." Her lips quirked up in a faint, bittersweet smile. "It wasn’t much, just a coffee mug with the RPD logo. Thought it might help you settle in."

Leon’s face softened, his usual stoicism giving way to something gentler. "A coffee mug, huh? That would’ve been nice. Better than the 'Welcome to Hell' vibe I got instead."

(Y/n) chuckled, though the sound was tinged with sadness. "There is supposed to be a sign, too. One of the other officers and I made it. Big letters that said, 'Welcome, Leon!' ." She paused, the memory of the ordinary, cheerful gesture contrasting sharply with their current nightmare. "I hung it up in the office… before everything went wrong."

Leon leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees as he watched her. "I think I would’ve liked that. A lot, actually."

The sincerity in his voice made her heart ache. She looked away, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I just… I wanted you to feel welcome. Starting a new job, in a new city—it’s a big deal. I wanted to make it easier." Her voice dropped, a tinge of guilt creeping in. "But instead… instead, this is what you walked into."

Leon shook his head firmly. "This isn’t your fault, (Y/n). None of it is. If anything, the fact that you cared enough to do all that in the first place says a lot about the kind of person you are." He offered her a small smile. "And for what it’s worth? I think you did a pretty good job of making me feel welcome, even now."

(Y/n) felt heat rise to her cheeks at his words, a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude swirling in her chest. She ducked her head slightly, her fingers brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice almost trembling. “I’m… I’m glad we stumbled upon each other.”

Leon’s smile deepened, the corners of his eyes crinkling just slightly. “Yeah,” he said, his tone warm and genuine. “Me too.”

She lifted her gaze, meeting his, and for a moment, the oppressive weight of their situation seemed to ease. There was something grounding about his presence—his calm, his strength—even in the face of the horrors surrounding them. And in turn, she realized, he must see something similar in her. Why else would he take the time to comfort her, to try and keep things light when the world around them was anything but?

“You’re pretty good at this, you know,” she said after a moment, her lips curving into a shy smile.

Leon tilted his head, a glimmer of curiosity in his expression. “At what?”

“Keeping it together,” she said, her smile turning just a bit teasing. “Keeping me together.”

He laughed quietly, the sound soft and low, but genuine. “I wouldn’t give me too much credit. I’m just winging it like everybody else.”

“Still,” she replied, her voice more certain now. “It helps. You help.” She hesitated, then added, “I don’t think I’d still be here if you hadn’t come along.”

Leon looked up at her, his blue eyes catching hers and holding them. There was something in his gaze—an unspoken warmth, a quiet appreciation that made the small space between them feel even smaller. "You," he said, his voice steady but low, "you’re a lot stronger than you think. Don’t forget that."

Her breath caught for a moment, the sincerity in his words striking a chord deep within her. She felt a shy smile tug at her lips, but it was the kind that came with a warmth she couldn’t quite place. "Thanks," she murmured, her cheeks warming again.

(Y/n) swallowed hard, pushing past the lump in her throat. "Maybe when this is over, I'll get you that coffee mug," she said, her voice soft but carrying a hint of determination. "I was told that I make a mean cup of coffee".

Leon tilted his head, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips. "Deal. But only if you throw in the sign, too."

She let out a soft laugh, the sound like a fragile spark in the darkness. "You drive a hard bargain, Kennedy."

She sighed, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve spent so many days just… wishing for things to be different.” She paused, a wistful sigh escaping her lips. “I always wanted some suspense in my life, but this… this isn’t what I had in mind."

“I didn’t know how to say it,” she whispered, her voice trembling just a little, “but I don’t want to be alone in this anymore. Not if… not if you’re here.”

His heart skipped a beat, and before he could stop himself, he reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering against her skin. He felt the heat between them, a palpable connection that both scared and thrilled him.

“I’m right here. And I don't plan on leaving,” he said softly, his thumb grazing her cheek.

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, all she could do was stare at him. The soft touch of his fingers against her skin sent a wave of warmth through her, and her heart, for the first time in ages, felt lighter. She had spent so much time locked away in her own thoughts, in her own fears, that she had forgotten what it felt like to let someone in. To feel cared for in a way that wasn’t conditional.

Leon didn’t pull away. His hand remained close, fingers still lingering on her skin, as if anchoring her in the moment. He could feel her hesitation, the uncertainty in her eyes, and it mirrored his own thoughts. There was something about this—about them—that felt so right, yet so unexplainable.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly, as if testing the waters of this uncharted territory. Her words were soft, but they carried the weight of everything unspoken between them.

“I’m sure,” he said, his eyes steady, unwavering. He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her skin. The space between them seemed endless, but the pull to bridge it was stronger. “I’ve never been more sure of anything,” he whispered breathlessly.

She closed her eyes, the sensation of his warmth so close making her heart beat in a way that almost felt too fast, too raw. She reached up, her hand trembling as it hovered near his, before she slowly placed it on his chest. His heartbeat echoed beneath her palm, steady and reassuring. In that moment, the world outside them seemed to fade away, the noise, the danger, the chaos—it was all distant.

Leon didn’t wait any longer. His fingers, so gentle at first, slid to the back of her neck, pulling her towards him just enough to close the remaining space. The moment their lips met, it was slow, tentative, as if both of them were testing the waters, unsure but willing. The kiss was warm, lingering, and the softness of it felt like a promise in the midst of everything uncertain.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing a little heavier, their faces mere inches apart. Leon looked at her, his eyes soft but intense, searching for any sign that this had been a mistake, that he had misread something. But all he found was a quiet understanding in her gaze, a soft warmth that mirrored his own.

(Y/n) brushed a hand over his chest, her fingers lightly tracing the outline of his jacket, as if trying to ground herself in the moment. “This feels…” She stopped, unsure of how to put it into words. “It feels like it’s happening so fast. But it’s not wrong, is it?”

“No,” Leon said, his voice low and steady, “it’s not wrong. Sometimes… sometimes things just happen, and you don’t question them. You just… you just let them be.”

Her smile, small and unsure, appeared again, this time softer, more genuine. “I guess I’m starting to understand that.”

Leon leaned in once more, his lips grazing her forehead in a soft, fleeting kiss. "When all of this is over," he murmured, his voice low and sincere, "how about we go on a date?"

Masterlist

[bruciemilf]

Everytime the birds flee the nest in a fit of anger, post argument with Bruce, again, their wrath more hurt under guise, — and this is before Dick is older, tougher, bigger, with his own graveyard of an apartment,— they run away.

It’s very common; Dick is a teenager with a fast temper and a flair for revenge, so, making his old man sweat by taking off in the dead of night seems fitting.

And Jason’s the little brother who’d march through fire, if he could hold Dick’s hand through it. It’s good. Brothers were made to walk together. When they aren’t killing each other.

Harvey just wonders why it had to be his place they pick.

“Ya know, your pops ain’t gonna like this.”

“What’s he gonna do? Boarding school me to death?”

“He’d never do that and you know it.”

Boarding schools in Gotham were another breed of brutal, if Bruce’s unpleasant and grim memories were anything to trust. And they are. His boy’s an amazing actor and terrible liar.

Harvey sighs, grumbling a low hiss under his breath, — puta madre, children were rough. Bruce’s specifically. And his? Two-Face always says ‘our’.

“This ain’t exactly how enemies work, Dick.”

“Harv,” Jason’s tiny tiny hand, so little Harvey barely feels it yank at the material of his pants, grabs his attention, “Can I have more hot chocolate?”

“Mijo, if I let that happen, your dad’s gonna kill me. Or lecture me. Which is way worse.”

“ Pleeease?”

“…Fine, but wash your teeth right after. And you, call Bruce and make up already. Just cause he didn’t let you run Zucco over with the Batmobile —“

“No one here understands me!” Dick angrily stomps off to— Harvey’s not sure where, this is a warehouse-apartment, so not a lot of room for a pre teen tantrum. Jason gasps and powers after him. “I WISH I WAS NEVER ADOPTED!”

“…Maybe I should tell ‘im I got Zucco in my trunk.”

‘Nah,’ Two-Face hums, a low echo in his head, ‘save it for his birthday. ‘

[hidtired]

Unfortunate Timing [Part 4]

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Description: You found out your pregnant early into your relationship with Daryl Dixon. To make matters worse? The apocalypse happens a few days later! (not fully canon)

5.6k words

Warnings (Pregnancy, gore, abuse, violence, fluff, walking dead stuff, ect.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 etc.

Silence… the hum of the RV engine you now sat in filling the air with something other than thought. Daryl was now on what used to be Merle’s motorcycle. You ditched his truck in an effort to save gas. Somehow that is what you were upset about. Not the fact you almost died in an exploding building or that the reason there was room in the RV for you was Jaquan choice of staying in that building. No, it was that dumb rusty truck that had you upset. The truck you had first seen Daryl working on. The truck you took to your first date and shared your first kiss. The start to your romantic relationship happening in those very seats. What a dumb thing to be upset about. You sigh finally turning to see what others in the RV were doing.

Andrea sat across from Shane. She was pouting, not getting her way of trying to kill herself. Dale had saved her yet she seemed like a child denied of a toy at the store. Your sadness about the truck flipped like a coin to detain and a little anger toward her. Mood swings were something you had while on your period. Always quick to realize why you had seemingly flip to one emotion and then the next a little to easily. Just took that first sign of blood to feel a sense of understanding to those emotions. But being pregnant was something else. You elected to practically sow your mouth shut because you were sure to pop with emotions at anyone or thing.

Your eyes moved back to the dirty RV window. Except now everyone had there attention out the windows to. Cars lining and blocking the highway. Some displeased grumbles rolling out of Dale’s mouth, Glenn and T-dog also looking displeased. Daryl rolled up to Dale’s driver side, “M’ gonna go ahead to look for a path, just go an follow me.” It wasn’t even a little while after that the constant hum of the engine spluttered and died. Now that got Dale to slump down in his seat cursing as he hobbled out of the RV opening the hood. While still seated inside the RV you saw a smoke cloud puff out floating up past the wind shield. Didn’t look too good, meaning it would take more time to fix. You took the lead of leaving your seat. If you were going to wait might as well stretch out your legs.

The sun hit you warming your skin. You heard Dale, “Yup dead in the water, don’t know how many times I have to say it…” You knew the thing could only take so much more tape. Rick appearing past one of the many cars, “Problem Dale?” You elected to ignore the conversation when Daryl rolled back in between cars. Walking straight to him he had a smirk and leaned back seeing you approach. You stood to his side putting an arm around his waist. His arm falling over your shoulder, “Piece of shit died again huh?” You sighed, “Thing is more tape than machine at this point.” Daryl chuckled electing to hop off the bike, also coming to the conclusion it would take a while to fix. You and him making your way back to the now gathered group.

“We will resupply up here.” Rick pointed to Dale and Glenn, “You both try and get this thing moving again.” He turned to T-dog and Daryl, “Maybe you both can start siphoning for gas. The rest of you try looking through the cars for anything useful.” It seemed like a good plan to you but before you could turn to start looking for things Lori spoke up, “This place is a graveyard.” Carol also chipping in, “This doesn’t feel to right to take from the dead.” Call you crazy or a bad person but you were looking forward to siphoning through all this stuff. Rick looked thoughtful but continued firmly, “We have to, remember to still have your guards up.” That left you to go about your business. Andrea seeming to head in the direction you were. She walked a little behind you and accidentally kicked something that was at her feet. The thing slid perfectly into your view. A baby bottle…

You and Andrea stop in your tracks. You both look around taking notice of other small toys splattered around and a baby carrier. A baby carrier that’s dirty with blood. You both look up catching the other’s eyes. Yours blank and her’s with a dreaded look. You left her there to contemplate as you went to go search a car. It was farther away than the one Andrea originally went for. Not wanting her to even try to talk about anything. You didn’t want to get in your own head. The car you went through was a small mini van. Looked like a quirky teens first car. Opening the trunk there was a duffle bag and suitcase. A empty tote bag fluttered to the ground. Going through clothes you found what looked to be a band shirt that was an extra large. Something someone would wear to bed maybe. It would make for a good maternal shirt down the road at least. You found new socks and a pair of heavy duty work boots, steal toed and all.

You decide after a while to look through the glove box. While moving around to go to the passenger door you tripped slightly on the bag you dropped. This caused you to turn and kick it off. Lo and behold in the corner of your eye you saw movement, walkers… There were so many of them. Far enough to have not seen you but to close to move any where. You slide down to the ground shimming under the low mini van. You didn’t want to lay on your stomach so you went on your back using your legs to scoot back. You felt jammed in but you needed under farther. Using the bottom of the car to push yourself with your legs. Your foot caught in a gap under the car. You couldn’t pull it out without making a lot of noise. The pressure of your foot was beginning to hurt. But the sound of a hundred feet stilled you. The smell of rotten flesh in the hot sun making you want to hurl.

A few walkers bumped into the car shaking it ever so slightly. It was enough movement however to twist your stuck foot. Now jamming it even farther into where it was. Hot metal touched your skin but you remain quiet. It seemed that there were still a few stragglers left so you wouldn’t have to bare this uncomfortable position for much longer. A few minutes of silence pass, that gave you the permission to start to free yourself. Now it would seem even more unwilling to let go of you. You tried to slip out of your busted running shoe but you didn’t have much of a distance to pull back with you laying down. A sharp object would dig into your ankle if you pulled. Then you started to hear a worried Daryl desperately calling your name. Well this was a little embarrassing…

Daryl POV

While he was on his motorcycle he couldn’t help but think of you saying I love you. Then seeing you happily approaching him when he rolled up on his bike further drove this feeling in his stomach. It was heavy, weighing on him but he couldn’t lie if he wasn’t enjoying it. You were already something new for him but, this was new. He was a fool for you. So when something threatened that it felt 10x worse. A horde from a direction they themselves just came from. He had no clue where you were and if it wasn’t for T-Dog needing his immediate help he might have gotten himself killed looking for you. He needed to remember that you could handle things, you’ve proven that much to him. But after the horde cleared he practically dragged a bleeding T-dog with him in search of you. “Y/N!?” While the yell wasn’t at the top of his lungs like he so wish to do it was still loud.

T-dog leaned against a car as Daryl looked over and under cars. But then T-Dog yelped making Daryl whip around in search of danger. A hand grabbed for T-dog, but your voice sounded from it as well, “A little help?” You sounded strained causing him to dropped down to his knees and lean down to look at you, “Are you hurt?” While you looked uncomfortable you still smiled at him, “Just stuck, think my foot is in between the suspension.” He sighed looking down farther to see where you were snagged, but when he looked back to your face it was pale in shock. Moving his eyes to your line of sight he saw a growing pool of blood on the ground. It came from a slumped T-dog, “He’s not bite, just cut himself on-“ a scream ripped through the air making the hair stand on his neck. Everything still for a second. Because that scream sounds like a little girl. Your voice cut through that stillness, “Go! Take T-dog with you, I’ll be fine down here a little longer!” Daryl didn’t like the idea of leaving you when you’re so vulnerable, but T-dog wasn’t looking to well and something had happen with the others. So he did as he was told. Though he didn’t like it. “Alright’ don’t go anywhere.”

While he lifted T-dog along his shoulders he heard you from under the car, “Yeah, ha ha…” He quickly shuffled back to the group with T-dog being tugged along by him. Faster he got whatever done sooner he could return to you. Dale took notice of them approaching first. However he could only focus on how Lori seemed to be holding Carol back. Dale had gotten closer why he stared off to the alarming situation, “Did he get bite.” Daryl set him down, “He got snagged by a piece of metal.” Carols cry’s made his skin crawl in an unpleasant way. Shane stood pacing near the forest. T-dog was the one to mumble out slightly slurred, “We heard a scream what happen?” Glenn spoke up while Dale tended to him as best he could, “Sophia got chased off by two walkers. Rick ran after her. Just hope they come back.” A sinking feeling of dread boar down inside Daryl. One thought drilled into his mind, ‘This world is not for a child.’ That didn’t feel to good to think. Dale after bandaging T-Dog looked around before worriedly questioning, “Where is Y/N?”

He was about to explained and take back off toward you when shuffling from the forest made everyone perk up. It was just a panting Rick, confused that Sophia wasn’t there. Panic quickly followed, Sophia was missing. Who better to look for her then a tracker, that’s why when people turned to him to find her he paused. You still needed his help and so did a little girl. The burning feeling in him told him to help you first but he knew that he himself didn’t have to be the one to help you, but Sophia did. You had said just at the beginning of the quarry that,

”Where there is people, there’s power.”

He didn’t trust anyone to keep you safe like him but this was exactly what you had been talking about. So before he got pulled along with Rick, Shane, and Glenn. He stopped Glenn, “My girl is stuck under a car, T-Dog can show you which. I can’t do this if I know she still needs help.” It was obvious by Glenn’s face he was surprised he was given such a task by the Dixon. Glenn gave him a determined look, “Ya man I got it.” Now he could only hope you were ok by the time he got back, hopefully with the little girl.

Your POV

When you had said you could stay down here a little longer you didn’t think 15 minutes would pass. Through all that time you still tried to wiggled your way out. All the twisting and pulling making your ankle feel raw. If you could only get your shoe off this would be so much easier, but you were literally pinned under a car. “Y/n?! Is it this one?” Glenn’s calls made you sigh with relief you saw two pairs of feet, “Glenn! Over here!” You saw the lower half of T-Dog slump against a car, least he wasn’t leaving pools of blood. Glenn’s face quickly appeared blocking your view. Your expression was probably very apparent to your discomfort and overall displeasure with the situation. Your voice came out in a slight pant due to being hot,

“What happened? Where is Daryl?”

Glenn looked down to see where your foot was before speaking, “Sophia got chased by a few walkers, Rick had killed them but now we can’t find her. Daryl is the only tracker we have so…” Ball of emotion stuck in your throat, Sophia had already had it bad and now she was in danger. It’s good Daryl went to go after her. Glenn now focused on your stuck leg not wanting to stare at the sad expression you wore. He slide under closer to your foot finally getting to see what your foot was stuck on. Glenn’s disgruntled mumbling told you nothing good, “Shit… Looks like car owner ran something over making a gaged edged hole.” You felt Glenn slide a hand around your ankle causing you to hiss in pain. Glenn winched but spoke with apology, “I can cover the sharp edge but you’re just going to have to pull back as hard as you can.” You sighed, “Try pulling the heal of my shoe off first.” Feeling his finger wiggle its way down your heal to slightly pop it out, then he moved your pant leg but paused and gasped.

“Your ankle is turning blue and purple.”

You needed out fast… while you did feel like you could feel it pulsating the thing that worried you was the throbbing was slowly replaced by a cool tingling. You brace your fist into the asphalt, “Then I need out now, I’m ready.” Glenn started to count down while blocking some of the sharper edges. When your foot original went through it pushed that metal back with. Now you had to pull against it, that is what had you stuck. You felt the pull on your skin before it ripped, that caused you to scream as you still pulled back as hard as you could. When your foot popped out of your shoe the release finally freed you. Glenn helped pulling you out from under the car. The first thing you noticed when the light hit you was the blood. Some scraps on your hands while pulling back on the road and blood running down your ankle into your sock. Glenn pulled your pants leg up as it too was ripped now. “Holy shit!” T-dog exclaimed while catching sight to the contrasting colors of red and the deep blue color of your skin.

You were lightheaded while now sitting up right. Your previous screaming had got the attention of the others, Dale followed by Andrea came hearing your pained screams. Your face felt flushed and you felt like you were sweating buckets, you started to slump slightly but Dale now was in front of you. You were dazed but Dale wrapped something around your leg snapping you back into some kind of alertness. Your eyes felt heavy but you still didn’t protest when Dale and Glenn held you from under your shoulders. Andrea helping a paling T-dog walk after you.

A headache started to form but the longer you were upright the more you got used to it. Maybe you were just a little too warm and the slight blood loss wasn’t helping. When you were sat in the shade next to the RV the breeze hit you immediately making you feel better. You heard voices asking questions but water was put in front of you which you gladly took. You felt slightly swarmed by people but Dale now had your pant leg rolled up and foot bandaged. Everyone moved closer to where Carol was by some metal guard rail as a figure came out of the woods behind it. It was Shane coming back alone, “Daryl and Rick are on her trail. She seemed to get spooked and took a wrong turn.” Carol just nervous shook and continued to stand starring out into the woods that you assumed Sophia ran off into. Shane now commanded people to get back to what they were doing previously, pushing out commands in a way that after hearing Rick’s way of leading made Shane seem less in some way. Not really bad but not good by any means. Oh boy and when he say you sitting on the ground next to the RV with an equally busted T-dog you wouldn’t like what followed from his mouth.

“Daryl just left you out there injured? Tsk, not surprised…”

He mumbled the last bit but you caught it. The fury you had to have a lock on seemed to chip a little, “Watch your mouth.” You sent a glare up at him as he gave you a surprised look not expecting any bark back. Even when it looked like you wanted to you never had. You’ve never really had a problem per se with Shane but he was starting to pull a feeling from your the reeked danger. Shane just tsked before bossing everyone around again. You glanced over to T-dog who was starring at you with his eyebrows raised which got you to chuckle. You leaned back closing your eyes. The air was nice but you now felt the ache back in your foot. Dale spooked you while you drifted off with your eyes closed. He helped move you into the RV, you pass a new stain on the floor but you lay down in the back choosing to ignore it. You were relaxing laying down, exhausted and now in pain. With you being pregnant you had only little experience with your ankles swelling, hence why you used to dip your feet into the quarry. Now this was just adding to it, Daryl isn’t going to like it that’s for sure.

Commotion happened outside, they had come back and by the sounds of it without Sophia. Carols cries and screams attributing to that, then you over heard the flutters of your name. Heavy steps came to the RV door before it creaked open with force. You could only hear heavy breathing as they moved to the back where you were lying down. Daryl’s frantic eyes landed on you searching your body for something. His hand moved to your face as the other rested on your stomach. He had came in so fast it took you a second to notice the blood on him.

Now here you are both worried about each other, “Are you ok!?” It was Daryl to get the first words out shortly after you, “Your covered in blood! Are you hurt?” You moved gripping on to his shirt now leaning into a sitting position. His arms pulling you into him, “is’ not mine.” He moved is words quickly while asking again, “Your both ok right?” You blinked up at him, taking in his words before stuttering out another concern, “I’ll be fine. Is… is Sophia?” You pointed down to the blood that ran down onto his pants as well. He sighed confirming you were not in such a bad shape as the others lead him to believe, ‘You should go look for yourself.’ With faces that said say your goodbyes. “It’s from a walker. Gettin to dark, don’t want to ruin her trail.” His eyes moved down to your foot, covered in bandages. “Picking up the search at dawn.” His eyes flicked back to yours questioning your injury. The look in his eyes reeked of guilt.

“It’s swollen, maybe sprained. The blood is from scraping in on metal, nothing deep I promise.” You saw him gulp and the way he was beating himself up inside. You knew he struggled with feeling like he was doing right by you. So you tapped him to look at you, “Hey, it would have been the same outcome if it was you dragging me out from that car.” He inhaled nodding while looking to you sheepishly, “Your in a shit ton of pain aren’t you?” You wrinkled your nose at him with a ‘no shit’ smile. You lean back laying down again, “Couldn’t even take the kind of medicine I would need while pregnant…” He sat close to your legs looking down to you his thumb went to his mouth and he chewed on it.

You turn you head looking at him knowing it was his nervous thinking habit, “Daryl…” His hand moved from his mouth, “Can I do anythin’ for ya?” He needed to feel helpful so you thought for a second before giving him an awkward smile, “Yes actually, something that I think I’d only let you do.” Now that was something that peaked his interest. He quirked an eyebrow at you expectantly so now you took a step in your relationship you’ve had yet to cross, “I’m gonna need your help going to the bathroom.” You had yet to really get into that part of the relationship, the weird stage you would say. Closest you’ve come is when on the rare nights where Merle was out of the house and you stayed over an he would watch you frantically get ready in the morning to open the store. He would sit back and just watch, simpler times he supposed.

He didn’t even say anything before dragging his arms under you and lifting you into his arms. Her wish is his command. He knew the RV bathroom hadn’t worked for a while so someone would’ve have to hold you while went about your business. Ya definitely a him only thing. The others only glanced seeing him carry you off somewhere. You’re not gonna lie this was embarrassing. He set you down on your good foot helping you balance. You watched his eyes glance around the wooded area he took you. You giggled causing him to look back to you. You smiled, “This is weird…” He ended up having to hold both your hands as you crocheted down. Daryl just scoffed completely nonchalant, “Nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

5 minutes later Daryl was seen carrying you back just before it became truly night. In the RV Carol now was laying in the spot you once were. She faced the wall in an attempt to hide her cries. Daryl looked uncomfortable but you put a finger to your lips before trying to wave him back. You would sleep that night in a car you cleared out. With a window crack to let in some fresh air in. But throughout the night Carols cries was to much for the Dixon next to you. You would sometimes wake at the sound only to see Daryl still awake next to you. But you couldn’t help the exhaustion that pulled on you. You felt him move next to you leaving you to groggily open your eyes to look if something had happened. In the morning it took you a moment to put together it actually happened and Daryl left to go look for Sophia. He had whispered, “Can’t take it, M’ go lookin’.” Which you guess you mumbled a tired, “Be careful.” and knocked back out. The next time you woke up he was next to you again seeming to not even had left your side.

In the early morn the search party was formed. You, T-dog, and Dale being the only to remain at the highway. Before Daryl left he personally cleaned your wounded ankle. Seeing for himself gave him peace knowing the swelling was the problem and not the cuts. You told him you would stay off your feet and you did. Sitting in the shade next to T while Dale stayed on watch. You hasn’t really talked to them personally only knowing things from them that others have asked and you just heard. So here you were talking trying to pass the time waiting for the others to come back.

“So you don’t mind me asking if he was a one night stand?”

You had told them you really didn’t mind any question. You chuckled replying to T-dog, “Oh trust me this-” You point to the small bump of your stomach, “Did not happen over night.” You raised an eyebrow suggestively at the implication. That got Dale laughing with T-dog making a face like he didn’t like the image going on in his mind. You shift back leaning your head on your hand in thought, “Honestly the reason I even met Daryl and started dating him was because I was running away from getting in a relationship in the first place.” They both look at you to continue seeming interested in you and the Dixon. “My parents thought I was throwing away my life by not being pregnant and married by 20. Very religious…. So I left not wanting to conform to there ideas.” You slip a hand to your stomach, “Guess they got what they wanted in the end. At least I got to pick the man.” You smiled fondly at the thought… ya you got the man you wanted.

Other then T-Dogs high fever and possibly infected arm, there wasn’t much to do so you took a nap in a quest to quell the deep rooted exhaustion in you. You woke up hearing unhappy voices. They were back and your guess no Sophia. You hopped you way to the RV door opening it gaining everyone’s eyes. You noticed that it wasn’t only Sophia to not be with them. Daryl looked stressed and when he saw you balancing on a leg in the door he moved to help you. You worriedly asked, “What’s going on, where is everyone else?” By your count Lori, Shane, Rick, and Carl were gone.

Daryl had his hands around your waist keeping you balance. The look he had was a mix of pissed but also upset. His teeth unclenched before he spoke giving a strain to his voice, “No sign of Sophia, worse Carl has apparently been shot.” You gasp slightly wobbling leading him to pull you to regain balance. A ball of pressure was felt in your throat but you choked it down to speak, “Where are they?” Daryl could hear your attempt at holding in your emotions, something he knows you have been struggling to do. He sighed running a hand down your arm, “Some lady on a horse took Lori after saying Carl was shot. They have a doctor treating him at there farm.” Your grip on him tightened, ‘another kid…’ no you couldn’t finish that thought a second further. Daryl’s face however looked like he had more to say, more to say that he was not happy about. He bite the edge of his lip before speaking.

"Glenn is taking T-dog to that farm for the doctor, I said you were going with him."

His face reeked of guilt, and the unpleasant feeling left in your stomach probably didn't translate well to your face. He at the sight of your obvious dislike to the idea tried to sputter out why, “Just don’t need anythin’ happen to you… and them.” You sighed, you weren’t planning on arguing about it with him, “I know you’re right I should go. Just don’t like us splitting up, makes me nauseous at the thought.” You eyes behind to form a slight sheen, before Daryl could say anything you beat him to it, “Said I was going to follow your lead didn’t I?” Daryl’s shoulders unclench from tension, he slide his arm under your legs and picking you up by your thighs. The sudden action making you panic and grab around his shoulders. “What are you-“ he walked inside the RV mindful of your head not wanting to slam it on the doorframe.

Before you knew it you were sat down with him at your side, he moved his handed on top of yours. His shy approach reminding you of your first date. “It’s ok you know. To scream, to cry, get mad. You’re gonna burst.” Your lip trembled, so it had been clear to him your battle with yourself. You sigh leaning on his shoulder, “I know… I just can’t seem to do it in front of everyone in fear we will be cast out. We were already outsiders once.” That comment surprised him, not expecting your reasoning. His arm circled around your shoulder, “I’ll take you out hunting when your better. Scream and cry all you want then.” You chuckle, in all honesty most of the time you go frustrated or overwhelmed with sudden emotion Daryl unknowingly helped ease everything. Silence fell comfortably between you both simply enjoying your remaining time together before you part.

Now you find yourself in the back seat of a truck. Glenn in the driver seat and T-dog in the passenger. You watch him pull up to a gate next to a mail box ‘Greener’ written in faded paint. After getting through and closing the gate, the road lead to a farm house. The porch now filling with people at the sound of your guys car. You were left in the back seat while Glenn rushed a declining T-dog, pill bottle bag that you learned was from Merle in hand. Surprising he had useful drugs with him, and not so surprising that he had drugs with him. It was a long time before you decided to get out the car yourself Glenn be damned. You hopped until reaching the porch leg throbbing at the use, it was tired of being the only one keeping you standing. You sat on the stairs to the porch. It sounded like something had happened inside but the commotion was just now subsiding.

You looked on to see open space filled with animals and not a walker in sight. You sat there in thought until a loud, “Oh shit!” broke your peace, Glenn stumbled out of the front door only to stop seeing you sat on the steps. He moved closer to you offering a hand to get up, "I'm so sorry, everything was moving so fast and I forgot you couldn't walk." He sighed with a twinge of remorse, "T-dogs all patched up so lets get you looked at." You sat up with the aid of Glenn and got into the house. Glenn was moving to sit you on a chair but you were lost in thought at the sight of a lamp on. It felt weird seeing a light on now. An older women appeared from a hall, "Hello dear, My name is Patricia." She approached gently, looking down to your legs noticing you were missing a shoe and for good reason. You foot was swollen and a ring of black formed around your ankle with purple spreading from it. She gasped before you could even introduce yourself. She turned looked back to the hall and called out, "Maggie! I need you to get some ice!" She knelt down raising your foot to rest on another chair.

A younger women came quickly around the corner. "Could only find a frozen bag of- who is this?" You looked like a deer in headlights then you hissed and flinched as fingers moved around your foot. A scab that had started to tried and form now knocked off your skin causing blood to slowly drip down. Patricia turned to the girl you could only assume to be Maggie, "Another of there group." Glenn was stood sheepishly off to the side, "I kinda forgot her in the car." The sterile smell of alcohol reached your nose before you felt the sting to your injure. You lean back with a hiss, before Patricia could mumble out an apology you spoke through the pain, "How ah- How's Carl? Is he ok?" A second of silence followed for Glenn decide to speak, "Alive, semi-stable. Shane and one of theirs is out looking for the stuff to fix him. Hershel is the doctor and is with Carl right now, he- he had a stroke few minutes ago."

A bandage had been wrapped around your leg while you listened. You let everything sink in only looking back up when a rag follow by a cold weight being laid over it. Looking down a zip lock bag filled with peas adding a relief in the constant burn that was your ankle. You sigh leaning back into a slump the diner room chair backing pressing into your back. A door opened somewhere in the house, then you see Rick. Lori at his side almost as if she was the sole reason he could stand. He was pale but also sweating making his hair stick to him. He wobbled to a couch with Lori, not before you catch a sight of the bandage wrapped around his inner arm. It was strikingly clear now why he wasn't with Shane. He was Carl's blood source. The depth this man is going for his son is admirable if not heartbreaking. Close to having blood lose it seems.

Why is it so hard to keep these kids safe, and what were you and Daryl going to have to do to keep yours alive.

Part 5

Feedback welcome and requests open!

Got diagnosed with depression and put on anti-depressants. So hope my story writing will become more frequent. Sorry for stalling on uploads. They also took 5 out of 7 vials of blood…. They stopped because I passed out at 5.

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[minus-plus-zer0]

Working at Bakugou's Agency Headcanons - Part 1

| Part 2 | ♡ Genre: Fluff ♡ Tags: None (Originally this was a one-off, but I found a good stopping point part-way through so I'm ending it here and posting the rest later)

You're his secretary. He's your boss at his self-established Pro Hero Agency. But you're right around the same age.

It's a little strange, really. You knew what you were getting into when you applied during the hiring process but it's still shocking to see someone your own age so much more accomplished in you. Makes you wonder what you're doing with your life when someone else is already so far ahead.

However, Bakugou (or Dynamight) sees potential in you and takes you as his personal secretary. Everyone else was fired because he wasn't too fond of any of them, so there was an opening. Despite him taking you on, you're really nervous about your job prospects given the graveyard of secretaries he's built up. But the pay is too good and you need the money.

Everyday at work, he's expecting your best. He's constantly barking out orders to any and all of his workers, and you wonder if this violates some "harassment of employees" policy that you're sure nobody really cares about at this point. At least he's not barking at you in particular. He's even slowed down to explain some things to you, which you really appreciated.

But your co-workers often talk about him when he's not around. They grumble about his aggressive attitude and protest against his constant criticisms. But they're here for the same reason as you (the pay rate), and on the bright side at least they know that Dynamight isn't corrupt or evil boss. Just a handful.

Your best efforts eventually become known at your organization and Bakugou gives you some rare praise. No gruffness, no insults, just genuinely saying "This is really well-done."

You almost couldn't believe it when you heard it. You laughed when he said it and then immediately regretted laughing when his eyes shot to yours.

"Sorry, I've just never heard you compliment an employee's work!"

He looked offended and he was about to say something but then he held back.

"Guess I shouldn't forget to do that."

Was he actually taking your criticism to heart? Who knows.

But Dynamight truly is one of the more perplexing bosses you've likely had to work for. You don't really have drinking parties outside of work with your boss or your colleagues, unlike other Japanese companies and organizations. Some other typical company traditions are eschewed, which you may or may not appreciate. Dynamight isn't really the type of person who would like any of those things. He's too straight-edge, too much of a workaholic. He doesn't see the point. But this makes it hard for anyone to get close to him.

Still, there is one day where you invite him out after work for coffee or tea, whichever you prefer. There's no ulterior motives, no wish for a pay raise, you're just honestly interested in his life.

The worse he can do is say no. Actually, he can do much worse than that, but you try it out anyways. To your surprise, he agrees immediately! It's a little funny how quick he was.

He's got the best taste in dineries, since he has high standards and all. He takes you to a really fancy restaurant and you're gobsmacked at the prices. You don't have that kind of money, but he brushes off your concerns. He's got money to burn.

You learn more about him. He's still pretty informal as ever, despite the suit and tie he's wearing per the restaurant's formal dress expectations. He doesn't really mince words with you or talk politely, inside or outside of work. But he's quite expressive and more willing to share about himself than you would've ever believed.

He's telling you about his high school years and how it led up to this point. You're familiar with the story since you've seen him at the Sports Festival and you just kept hearing about him and the other U.A. students from there. He states your Quirk is good enough to be a Pro and outright tells you he'd personally train you if you wanted.

You've got your hands full with your current life as is so you can't take the offer, but you're pleased he even suggested it!

"Maybe if I train, I'll even surpass you someday!"

"Don't get cocky!"

It's really easy to joke around with him and get into a nice flowing casual conversation. You've never seen him act like this. Even with other Pro Heroes it usually took a lot of time for their friendship to remotely get to that point.

In fact, you point that out to him, as well as his aloof reputation with the public. Normally you shouldn't tell your boss those kinds of things, but Bakugou isn't your normal boss.

Bakugou sneers at your playful observation and says if he doesn't need to open up then he doesn't do it at all. He says you're looking too much into things.

But he's smiling at the end, and he bites back at you with his own observation, saying that you've got a lot of time on your hands if you're keeping a close eye on him.

You say he's got some food stuck in his teeth and successfully distract him from the subject.

Okay, maybe you DO like him. Maybe you do fancy one of the highest ranking Pro Heroes in the country who acts just like a good friend with you when he's not in the office. It's not your fault. He's just so kind to you.

But he's your boss, and you know he's dedicated to his work above all else...

Still, you find him the next day at work greeting you first thing in the morning, remarking about your evening together. He's recalling it with a rare soft smile on his face.

You're glad it's a happy memory for him.

[yanteetle]

random yan rottmnt thought:

the boys calling you while they bury your friends alive. You find your phone ringing at the asscrack of the night, and you fumble for your phone. Your eyes are still bleary from the interrupted sleep, and they're video calling you at such an ungodly hour.

You obviously pick up, curious on whatever shenanigans these turtles are usually up to. But Leo's spinning the camera to show where he is, and you notice the field of graves around him and his brothers.

"Tf are you doing in a graveyard??" You grumble tiredly, rubbing your eyes out of your sleep as you sit up.

"Just hanging out with your buddies! Yknooow, the ones you alwaays talk about? Your little school friends?" Leo grins, his smile looking much too happy for someone in a graveyard right now. Your stomach churns in discomfort at the thought - you know the turtles aren't exactly subtle about how they act when you mention your friends...

Leo then pans the camera to an open grave, his face in the corner of your screen whilst the video call continues to run. "We found out your friends over here" He walks close the the edge of the open grave, the flashlight shining inside - showing your friends gagged and tied up, dirt and soil covering up to their chest now. "were busy trash talking you behind your sweet little old back! Sooo rude! Don'tcha think so?" Leo continues, his tone laced with mock anger.

"Soo, we decided to defend you honour and do you a favour!" Mikey chimed in excitedly, his hands busy with shovelling dirt into the grave, slowly drowning your friends in maggot and worm-filled soil.

"by BURYING THEM ALIVE??" You yelled in terror, but it was responded by a unanimous chuckle from the turtles.

"Oh- Donnie's coming to get the dump truck, we're just putting a little down here so they don't try n' wriggle outta here!" Raph chuckled, and your heart practically drops into your ass at the statement.

"WHAT?? No- get them outta there now!!" You yelled through the phone, but the last thing you saw was Leo's smug grin as he hung up, leaving you in the silent emptiness of your room - a stark contrast to the muffled screams of your friends echoing in the background of that video call.

[stevesjockstrap]

(late) kinktober chapter 6: Steve/Eddie & predator/prey

ao3 is down so here’s something for you to read

Rated E • warnings: chasing kink, pet names, dom!eddie, come play • ao3 link

(Ghost in the Graveyard is a kid’s game that’s sorta opposite of hide and seek. The ‘ghost’ hides and everyone looks for them, but when someone finds them they yell “ghost in the graveyard” and the ghost has to try to tag one of the players before they get to base. Maybe an Old thing, maybe a Midwest thing?)

ETA: requested and cheerleaded by @lawrencebshoggoth 😘

Teaching the kids Ghost in the Graveyard had been all fun and games, literally, until Steve found himself being chased by Eddie towards Wheeler's front porch. He was sprinting all out but he could hear Eddie on his heels. He hadn’t been running for his life lately, while Eddie had been through a lot of physical therapy.

It sent a different kind of rush through his body and suddenly he thought maybe he would like to get caught.

Letting his instincts take over, he faked left then zigged right, Eddie flying past him as he changed directions. With an evil laugh, Eddie quickly tagged El who had stopped running to watch.

Steve grinned at him as he approached, El and the rest of the kids taking off to continue the game.

“Almost had you, my pretty,” Eddie said in a spooky voice.

“Almost let you, but I didn’t want the kids to see this,” he said lowly, finally pressing close as he met his boyfriend’s mouth.

Eddie was a bit shocked, taking a long moment to get his bearings before he took over the kiss, making Steve’s stomach swoop.

With a hum, he pulled back to look at Steve’s face. He must’ve finally gotten the picture, because he looked around quickly before pulling him to the side of the house.

Steve groaned when he was pressed bodily against the cold brick, an equal hardness pressing into his.

“Didn’t think the whole roleplaying thing was for you, Stevie,” Eddie teased.

“Maybe I don’t need the roleplaying part, just you desperate to catch me.”

Eddie bit into the meat of his jaw before moving his lips to his ear. “I’m always desperate for you, baby. I’ll ravage you anywhere any time.” He met his mouth in a filthy kiss, swallowing down his moan when he pressed his hips forward.

They broke apart as some called out in the yard behind them, “Ghost in the graveyard!’

Taking a second to breathe, Steve chuckled at the look he received. “We’ll continue this, later.”

“You bet we will,” Eddie grumbled.

As they approached the front of the house, Eddie shouted, “Last round, beastlings! Gotta get you all home.”

They all whined but finally Max ran off to hide.

By the time they’d gotten all the kids home safely, Steve was buzzing with anticipation of what he’d be met with at home.

All of the lights were out, which was strange as he always left a few on.

Unable to help himself, he called out into the darkness. “Eddie?”

The silence that met him was unnerving. His van was outside. He had to be there.

Shrugging out of his jacket, he saw his hook was stabbed through a piece of paper. Ripping it down quickly, coat now forgotten, he held the scrap up into the beam of moonlight through the window.

In Eddie’s jagged scrawl was written run.

Even though he had asked for this, uncertainty began coiling in his chest. Again he called out, “Eddie?”

But it echoed around his still house unanswered.

Adrenaline surged and he dropped his coat and the note and took off for the stairs. As soon as he reached them, he heard the thundering footsteps through the dining room. Eddie must’ve left his boots on.

Taking the steps two at a time, he half pulled himself up by the railing, while Eddie’s boots and unfamiliarity with his house slowed him down. Having gained some distance, he shot down the hall and quickly stepped into the hall bathroom.

Eddie hurried past the door and headed down towards the bedrooms. Steve held his breath and as quietly as he could slid the linen closet open and hid.

Trying to calm his racing heart, a different stirring in his belly had his cock filling.

“Oh Stevie,” Eddie called down the hall, having now checked all the bedrooms. “Want to make this hunt last, huh? We both know the little mouse wants to be caught.”

The bathroom light suddenly flicked on. He pulled his lips in between his teeth, trying to not breathe loudly as he stared out of the slats of the door. His heart was thundering loudly in his ears.

“Oh no, where could he be? I guess I just have to give up,” Eddie teased, ripping open the shower.

He pushed the heel of his hand against the bulge in his jeans. How was he so close already?

He blinked and his body reacted when the closet door was yanked open, he found himself jumping out and knocking a surprised Eddie back a few feet. His legs carried him towards the doorway, but he was caught around the middle and pushed face first towards the sink.

“Little mouse has teeth,” Eddie panted into his neck. “Let me show you mine, pretty.”

Steve cried out as teeth buried themselves into the muscle in his shoulder.

A hot tongue traced over the bite and up to his jaw, sending tingles down his spine. He just-

“So pretty like this, all writhing and caught,” Eddie murmured against his ear. One ringed hand found its way to his hair, pulling at the root as the other flicked across his chest.

An answering hardness pushed against his ass and the instinctual arch of his back made the head of his cock push just right against the edge of the counter.

Unable to find any words in his head, he tried frantically to make eye contact with Eddie in the mirror, but he was leaning in again to scrape sharp teeth down the tight line of his neck.

“Such a delicious little mouse I caught,” Eddie continued.

He sucked a mark into his neck, sliding his hand through the hair on his chest before coming to a stop with his palm flat.

“I can feel your heart going a mile a minute, baby.”

Steve could only pant while he received a filthy grin in the mirror. He felt helpless and caught, unable to move the tiniest bit to relieve the heavenly pressure on his cock. Stuck between the hard countertop and Eddie’s seemingly unmovable mass behind him. In his boots he was a few inches taller than him and that made him feel even more trapped.

But apparently none of that was a problem for his dick.

Eddie’s fingers pinched hard around a nipple and his body jolted with the sudden sting, quivering and shaking and making his hips push back and forth.

He tried to say something again, but the only thing that he managed was a whined, “Ohhh no, oh fuck!”

Steve’s hands clenched onto Eddie’s forearm as his orgasm ripped through him, his hips moving on their own accord as he emptied himself into his briefs.

“Did you…?”

Steve panted, clenching his eyes shut. He couldn’t believe it either.

“Oh my god, Stevie,” Eddie breathed.

“I’m sor-“

Eddie tugging him around to face him, stopping him with his own lips. When they finally broke apart, he received a wide grin. “Don’t you dare be sorry, sweetness. That is so fucking hot. You really liked this game, huh?”

Steve, still unsure, just nodded. He let go of Eddie’s arms and was immediately pulled close again, whining into the hard kiss as his sensitive cock came into contact with Eddie’s own hardness.

With a low hum, he pecked his bottom lip then his nose before pulling away again. “C’mon baby. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Finding himself sprawled on his back in his own bed still trying to calm his racing heart, Steve cried out as Eddie’s hot tongue swiped over his spent cock.

Catching his eye before he could form words, Eddie smirked up at him. “What? When the cat catches the mouse, he gets to play with it.”

After another long lick while holding eye contact, Steve watched as he crawled up his body to meet him in a messy kiss, sharing his come between them.

Eddie chuckled against his mouth and pulled back slightly to look at him. He realized he’d spread his legs, wrapping them around his hips. “You need more, baby? Still all wound up, huh?”

He nodded, and his belly swooped low again at the dark look he received for it. “Y-yes, Eds, need more. Need you.”

“Alright, little mouse. We can definitely do that.”

The nickname was killing him, as much as it was embarrassing and teasing, it made him want to give Eddie anything he wanted.

Instead of removing himself from Steve’s legs, he rolled them completely, Steve’s hands reaching for anything to hold on to. His weight settled on Eddie and he moaned.

Someone started rolling their hips and their mouths found each other’s again.

“Please. Please, Eddie,” Steve found himself begging into the space between their kisses.

Eddie shushed and cooed at him, sliding a hand between them. He then took the combination of their fluids and circled his fingers around his hole.

“More, c’mon,” he groaned.

“Bossy little thing, aren’t you? Here I thought I was getting to play with my treat.”

Steve clenched his fists into Eddie’s hair, arching his back at the perfect burn of just his come and Eddie’s spit opening him up.

His cock was trapped between them, rubbing against Eddie’s butter soft jeans.

Suddenly, he was looking up at the ceiling and Eddie wasn’t touching him anymore. Before he could complain, a tube landed on his chest.

Eddie was standing beside his bed, finally shrugging out of his layers and unbuckling his belt.

“Go ahead.”

The command itself almost had him coming again. He warmed up the lube in his hands, making sure to keep watching as the boots, belt, jeans and boxers were quickly removed. But then he lubed up his fingers and slid them inside of himself, allowing his eyes to unfocus.

“So fucking perfect for me, Stevie. God, look at you.”

Another rough finger slid alongside his own and immediately rubbed against his prostate.

“Nooo, Eds. Too close. Please! Need your cock!”

Eddie yanked his hand away by the wrist and settled between his legs.

The initial stretch stole the breath from him, his body relaxing completely as Eddie sunk in.

Steve wrapped his legs around him again and he kissed across his chest and neck, making him cry out with his slow deep rolls of his hips.

He’d never been so incredibly turned on, felt so incredibly needed and wanted. Every time with Eddie had, of course, been amazing, but now the adrenaline high coupled with him being so fucking sweet was magnifying every sensation.

“Gunna- fuuuck Eds,” he wailed as his second orgasm hit him like a freight train.

Eddie fucked him through it, groaning as his walls clenched around him. “That’s it, baby. Perfect little prey for me. Maybe I’ll suck my come from you. Make you come again until you’re screaming. What do you think? Huh? Cat got your tongue?”

Steve gasped as his mouth was overtaken again, his tongue sucked and bit as Eddie’s thrusts became irregular. They both cried out as he filled him up.

“Now what?”

Eddie looked over at him, raising a shoulder. “Order pizzas?”

He grinned. “Race you!”

dividers by @/puppy-stevee and @/fuctacles