#heavy sigh/pos

[birrdify]

AND IN RETURN .. looks like smg16 drew someone !! @4thwallbreakerdraws2 <- this wonderful person's RTV!Puzzles (reality TV au) ... gahahh....i lvove..

[tteotlma]

Missed Every Inch

Older Bf!Logan x Reader (3.2kw)

a/n: got this idea based off this post ^ bc i’ve been thinking a lot abt old man logan lately.. so enjoy 3k words of pure smut.

tw: 18+ MDNI, explicit sexual content, overstimulation, rough sex, light degradation/teasing, power dynamics, breeding, kink/multiple orgasms, slightly aggressive behavior (e.g. tearing clothing), cockwarming, heavy on missionary, p in v, pw/op

—

Alternatively, older bf!logan doing the whole “fuck, I missed you” thing when he slides inside you after not being able to for a whole two weeks.

How he ever let that happen he doesn’t know, schedules became hectic, nights became short, and fourteen days later he’s as riled up as a bull seeing red — well not exactly but either way Logan is not about to let this continue any longer.

Sure the both of you had small moments here and there, like your shared morning showers, warm embraces and passionate kisses at the door before either of you left for the day, video calls during lunches that usually ended with Logan teasing you about giving him something to keep him going and you complying by quickly flashing the camera. Giggling shyly when Logan would let out a whistle. And all would be great until you hang up, or leave his sight and he remembers how long it’s been since he’s really felt your true warmth. God the more he thinks about it, the more he’s gonna blow his load right in his plaid pajama pants.

He paces back and forth shirtless in your shared bedroom. He’s been home alone for three hours now, and you messaged him thirty minutes ago saying you were on your way home meaning you should be walking through the front door any second.

He has one hand stroking his chin and the other hand low on his hip trying to decide if he should be nonchalant or just say to hell with it and jump you as soon as you walk in the door.

He hears the door to your shared apartment open, and he jumps out of his skin. He’s acting so out of character but — he’s really desperate. He says to hell with it and he swings open the bedroom door only to run right into you.

“Hi,” You look up at him, with a small smile.

Logan looks at you for a brief moment before he breaks and he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in and using the other hand to cradle the back of your head. He pulls you in for a heated kiss, the kind that ignites the heat in your chest that slowly spreads to the tips of your fingers.

You become pliant in his arms, letting your weight and balance rely solely on Logan as he continues to move his lips against yours. He pulls away for a second allowing you a chance to wrap your arms around his neck and pulling him in closer.

A long moan leaves your lips as he slowly drags his tongue along the inside of your mouth. He gives your tongue a slow and gentle suck before he pulls away.

“Hey baby,” He says, a smug look on his face. He wraps both arms around your waist, hands resting on the swell of your ass as he starts to walk the both of you back into the bedroom.

”What’s gotten into you?” You ask, as he begins to nose at your temple.

“I’m just glad you’re home now.” He says trailing kisses from your temple to your neck. Your hand snakes from around the back of his neck, and slowly trails down before stopping on his bare chest. Your palm catches the faint beating of Logan’s heart rapid, and pulsing.

“Did I make you wait long?” You ask, tilting your head back, a soft sigh leaves your lips as he places tender kisses along the sensitive parts of your neck.

He doesn’t say anything, instead he grabs your hand on his chest, and drags it further down, the heat radiating off his body practically scolding your hand. He brings your hand down his front all the way down to the bulge in his pants.

“You tell me.” He teases, pulling back to look down at you. With one hand still around his neck, keeping him close you take his dick in the other and fondle the man through the thin fabric of his pants.

“Aw,” You coo, “Did I make the poor baby wait too long.” You teased, the motions of your hand unrelenting. A shuddering breath leaves your boyfriend’s lips as his hips buck as much as he tries to hold back.

“Sorry sweetheart,” Logan hooks his hands below the curve of your ass and quickly lifts you off your feet. He swiftly spins you around and tosses you on the bed. “None of that tonight.” He says, grabbing your ankle and yanking you close as he climbs on the bed fitting himself between your thighs.

You let out a loud sigh as his heavy hands clench the clothed flesh of your thighs. His hands trail up to the belt loops of your jeans and he gives them a tug.

“Strip,” He orders. His hand sliding down the front of your legs, hiking your thighs on his hips as he goes to untie the drawstring around his waist. The pants slide down even further, exposing his adonis belt.

You swallow louder than you intended , and he chuckles lowly. You rid your upper half of any thing that could possibly stop the feel of your lover's calloused hands on your body. Logan rips the front of your pants open, tearing the seam and ripping the button off and across to who knows where.

“Oh, babe I really liked those.” You moan out softly, under any normal circumstance you would’ve been upset, but as Logan licks up your stomach as he’s pulling your pants down you figure the pants can come third. You lift your hips and yank the fabric off as Logan finally frees his poor aching cock from the prison that is his pajamas.

He sucks in a deep breath through clenched teeth, and whether it was from pain or pleasure the look on his face was enough to make you cream right then and there. You began to squirm in anticipation, trying to press your thighs together but Logan puts heavy hands on your knees and pries them further apart.

You let him, face flushed and chest panting.

”That’s it babydoll, show me that pretty pussy, hmm?” He teases you, and your face burns bright with embarrassment. You grab his arm as he pulls you flush against his bare skin. His cock slides against your slick folds, and a whine escapes both your lips.

“Fuck.” He grits out as he gyrates his hips, watching in awe as your juices coat his pulsing dick. Your fingers squeeze tighter around his arm.

“Logan.” You breathe out, your hips rising to get more friction.

“Hold on baby, you gotta give me a minute.” He’s out of breath as his hands roam all over the meat of your legs. He hikes your left ankle over his right shoulder and he pulls away.

The both of you breathless, you prop yourself on your elbows and watch as Logan guides the tip of his cock at your entrance. He pauses, leans back on his haunches and looks down at you.

“What are you waiting for, big guy?” You lean in and grab his dick, giving it a few strokes.

“It’s been two weeks and I am not a minute man.” He huffs out, watching the movements of your hand.

”You never have been.” You whisper, guiding the tip inside. Logan shudders as he leans over your body once again. His arms caging you in as his chest heaves. Your ankle slides off his shoulder, as he slowly sinks his dick further into your tight hole.

“Oh yes,” You hum, feeling absolutely stretched. Reaching out to grab Logan’s face you bring him in for a sloppy kiss.

“That’s it baby, give it to me just like that.” You purred, fingers cradling his head, foreheads pressed together, breaths mixing as Logan pulled back slowly, snapping his hips forward.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He moans, and you swallow his words.

Logan's thrusts start slow, deliberate, dragging out each movement as if savoring the feel of you. Every inch of him feels like it’s filling you up completely, and you can’t help the needy whine that escapes your lips. He grunts softly in response, his breath hot against your cheek.

"Missed this too," you whisper between pants, your body rising to meet his rhythm. Each snap of his hips has you keening, your nails digging into his back, urging him for more. Logan’s pace starts to quicken, his control slipping as the tight heat of your body pulls him in deeper.

"Shit... you're so perfect," he groans, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. His mouth trails along your neck, lips brushing over your skin, leaving wet kisses as his hands tighten their grip on your waist, anchoring you to him.

Your thighs tremble around him, your body arching in response as your hands move to grip the sheets. You’re close, so close, the coil in your belly tightening with every deep thrust.

"Logan... please, don't stop," you beg, your voice breathless and needy.

Logan’s breath hitches as you tighten around him, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. He’s right on the edge, but instead of pulling out, he leans over you, his lips brushing your ear. His hand grips your thigh, keeping you locked in place as he pushes back in, slowly, torturously deep.

You whimper, feeling him stretch you all over again, and he moans in response, the sound almost desperate. He pulls out just enough to thrust back in, the head of his cock dragging against that sweet spot that makes you see stars. The rhythm is slow but deliberate, his hips grinding into you with an intensity that has your body arching into him. Each time he pulls back, it’s only to push deeper than before, making you gasp and claw at his back.

"Logan... fuck," you moan, overwhelmed by the feeling of him filling you completely. He’s breathing hard against your neck, his body trembling with the effort to stay in control. But the way his cock moves inside you—deliberate, steady, dragging out the pleasure—makes it clear he’s savoring every second.

His need is palpable now, his body pressing against yours as if he can’t get close enough. "I’ve missed this... missed you so much," he mumbles, his voice hoarse as he picks up the pace just slightly. The sound of your skin meeting fills the room, the slick heat of your bodies moving in sync, every thrust hitting deeper, making you writhe beneath him.

You feel the tension in him, the way his muscles strain as he fights to hold back. But then his control starts to slip, his pace quickening, each thrust harder and faster, his hips snapping into you with a hunger that leaves you breathless. The coil in your belly tightens again, the pleasure building higher and higher, and you know he can feel it too.

"Fuck, you’re so tight," he groans, burying his face in your neck as his hips drive into you harder. His voice cracks with raw need, his movements becoming frantic. He’s so close, teetering on the edge, but instead of letting go, he keeps pushing you both further, refusing to pull out. "I’m not done with you yet," he gasps, his hands gripping your hips, keeping you in place as he thrusts deeper, hitting that perfect spot over and over.

Your body clenches around him, and you cry out, your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave. Logan feels it, groaning as your walls flutter around him, and you think he’s going to come too, but he doesn’t. Instead, he slows just enough to keep himself in control, his hips rocking into you in a rhythm so slow and precise it makes your head spin. He pulls out slightly before pushing back in, bottoming out with every thrust, the sensation keeping you on the edge.

"God, I love you," he mumbles, his voice breaking as he leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. His lips brush against your cheek, your temple, as he keeps up that slow, torturous pace. "I’m so obsessed with you... I need you, baby, I need this," he groans, his voice thick with emotion, as if the feeling of being inside you is overwhelming him.

You can feel him trembling, hear the soft, needy sounds he makes as he moves inside you, and it sends another wave of pleasure through your body. Your hands find his hair, tugging gently as you pull him closer, pressing your lips to his in a sloppy, desperate kiss. "I’m here... I’m yours," you whisper against his lips, your body still shaking from the intensity of your orgasm.

Logan’s thrusts slow even further, until he’s barely pulling out, just rocking into you gently. But every time his cock drags against that sweet spot inside, it sends a jolt of pleasure through you, leaving you trembling. It’s softer now, more intimate, but still just as intense. Your body is so sensitive, every touch, every movement feels like too much and not enough all at once.

His moans turn softer, more broken, and you can feel his control slipping as he edges closer to release. His breath is hot against your ear, his voice hoarse as he whispers, "I can’t stop... you feel so fucking good."

Logan feels you tighten around him with what he thinks is another orgasm, his thrusts becoming purposeful, and he groans deeply, his body shaking as his release crashes into him. His cock throbs inside you, and you feel the warm flood of him filling you up, but just as you expect him to pull out, he surprises you.

“Wait, baby… not yet,” he rasps, his voice rough with need. Before you can respond, his hips push forward again, grinding deep, his cock still hard inside you. The overstimulation sends a jolt of pleasure through your body, and you let out a sob, clutching meekly at him as he starts moving again, slow but firm. The sensation is overwhelming, but Logan’s grip on your hips tightens as if he can’t let go.

You cry, tears forming in your eyes, your body still trembling from your orgasm, but Logan keeps going, his breath ragged and desperate.

“Fuck, I need more,” he mumbles against your skin, his lips brushing over your neck as he starts to thrust again. His movements are a little rough, his need palpable, and you can feel him building up again, his body already close to another release.

He thrusts faster now, deeper, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you, and you can’t help the way your body reacts.

“Oh, Logan~” you cry out, overwhelmed by the feeling of him filling you over and over, the slick sound of your bodies meeting echoing in the room.

He’s panting now, his breath hot against your skin, and you feel him tense up again. His hips slam into you one last time, and he groans deeply, spilling into you for the second time. But even then, he doesn’t stop.

“Oh god… not yet,” he whispers, almost like a plea, his cock twitching inside you as he keeps rocking his hips. His pace slows but doesn’t stop, the overstimulation almost too much to bear, but at the same time, it feels so damn good. His thrusts become shorter, his cock pulling out just enough before pushing back in, keeping him buried deep inside you.

Your body is on fire, sensitive and trembling as Logan chases yet another orgasm. His voice is low, needy, as he presses his forehead to yours, groaning softly.

“I can’t stop… I need to come again… fuck, you feel so good,” he mumbles, almost like he’s talking to himself, completely lost in the sensation of being inside you.

Your legs shake as he thrusts slowly, hitting deep inside you with every roll of his hips. You’re not sure how much more you can take, but the pleasure is overwhelming, and soon, the coil tightens in your belly again. “Logan, I’m gonna—” you cry out, your body tensing as another orgasm rips through you, this one so intense it leaves you seeing stars.

Logan moans with you, his hips snapping forward one last time as he comes again, filling you up even more. His body shakes, his breath heavy as he holds himself deep inside you, his hands gripping your waist tightly like he never wants to let go. You both stay there, trembling and panting, the room filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing.

Even after three orgasms, Logan’s still inside you, his cock softening but not pulling out. He’s so needy, so desperate to stay connected to you. His lips brush against your ear, his voice soft and broken. “I’m obsessed with you,” he whispers, his hips still moving just enough to keep him inside you.

He leans down to lazily kiss you, lips enveloping his. You stroke his hair, running your fingers through the damp strands as you hold him close, your body finally starting to relax. Logan’s breaths begin to even out, his thrusts slowing to a stop, but he stays buried inside, his body pressing down on yours in a protective, possessive way. His arms wrap around you, pulling you in tighter as he rests his forehead against your shoulder, completely spent.

“Still with me?” he mutters, his voice low and gruff in your ear, the heat of his breath sending a shiver through you.

“Barely,” you tease, your fingers still idly combing through his hair as you try to catch your breath.

Logan huffs a small laugh, pulling back just enough to look down at you. There’s a softness in his gaze, a mix of exhaustion and something deeper. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not ready to move yet.”

You smile, the weight of his body grounding you. “Not like I’m complaining.”

He dips down to kiss you again, slower this time, a quiet hum escaping his lips as he pulls you closer. His grip tightens, keeping you pressed together, like he’s savoring every last second of this. He grabs the extra duvet from under the pillows and wraps the blanket around your frames.

“Don’t go falling asleep on me,” he murmurs against your lips, but there’s no urgency in his voice. He’s just as close to passing out as you are.

“I won’t,” you whisper, though your body feels heavy, every muscle finally unwinding.

Eventually, you both roll over, Logan keeping you snug against him, still inside you as he wraps his arms around your waist. The room grows quieter, the sound of your breaths mingling as your heartbeats slow.

“Stay here,” he mumbles, his voice barely a whisper now, almost lost in the haze of sleep. His head rests against your chest, his body relaxing completely.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you reply softly, pressing a kiss to his temple, your hand resting on his back. You can feel the last bit of tension leaving his body as he lets out a deep sigh.

Within moments, you both start to drift off, the warmth of his body against yours pulling you deeper into sleep, completely spent but content.

—

a/n: did i make logan too needy?

[gamergirl-niffler]

Being Married to Haganezuka - headcanons

Relationship between swordsmith and demon slayer was actually unheard of, but you didn't complain at all.

It was really comfortable, you lived with your husband and were close enough to be ready when needed.

Your husband was a difficult person: hot-blooded, extremely dedicated to his craft, and socially inept.

Many were sure he would never find a wife. That was until you came into the village, after all Hotaru was just a man and despite all of his heavy flaws managed to win your heart.

People hated him, and you knew that, but thankfully your presence brightened his image. Just a tiny bit. But still.

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

‌He doesn't just talk about work. He rants. 

A lot, actually. 

Thanks to it, you know all about his clients, even if he has very little of those.

"I need to make new swords! And guess for who! For a kid that barely made it through Finale Selection!" Hotaru complains as you hum in acknowledgement while braiding the long black locks of your husband. "I am sure he will be like the others! Not respecting my work whatsoever!"

It's a simple routine before bed. He rants, letting out some of the frustration while your attention calms him down. It's always enough to actually allow him to properly rest during the night. 

‌Sleeping with him is yet another completely different thing.

Once the two of you get into bed, there is no running away. When his arms wrap around you, it's over, you are stuck like this until the sun rises again. He is simply not letting you go. 

Hotaru will never admit it out loud, but that's exactly what he is afraid of, you were the only woman that ever wanted him, so what would he do without you around.

You are his biggest treasure, he is not letting you go. Ever.

‌ Mornings with Haganezuka are much nicer. 

He is calm and rested as you're helping him to get ready for work right after breakfast.

"I hate that mask," You say with a grimace, while looking at the ugly mask in your hand. 

Of course, you understand the whole idea of masks but it didn't change the fact you didn't like them, you preferred to see your husband without it.

He snatches the item from your hand and hands you a shawl. "You better help me with my hair," Hotaru mutters, sitting in front of you to make it easier. "You also should get ready."

With an eye roll, you started to wrap his hair, making sure they won't bother him during the work. "I am just as ready as you are," you sum up, tying the shawl as tightly as possible. 

Once you were done he got up, put on the mask and turned to you. "I love you," he admits, while his hands move to your collar to properly button it.

Looking up at him, "I... I love you too...," you say with a soft grimace, making him frown under the mask. "What's your problem now?”

"Sorry. It's hard to say with that thing on your face," you admit slowly.

"You're annoying," He scoffs and turns to leave.

After grabbing your sword, you could follow him, walking by his side and holding his hand until you reach your post. Only then the two of you finally part ways for the day.

‌Hotaru is the one taking care of your sword. 

How could he not!

Not only he's a swordsmith, but he is also your husband, so his duty to you is doubled or even tripled! Not to mention, the sword is his own creation.

"Did you clean it? Are you sure it's clean? Maybe you chipped it? Let me see!"

You need to keep him away, using your own hands to make sure he won't get to your sword. "Hotaru, love. I am sure of all of it," You sigh, but before you know it he already has his hands on it. 

How did he even do that?! 

With careful eyes, he checks the blade and handle to be fully sure you're telling the truth. 

He couldn't allow his beloved wife to walk around with a sword that isn't properly taken care of. Hotaru wanted to be sure you are safe. "It's getting blunt. I will sharpen it for you. You can take the other one."

And just like that, your husband is off to do his things. There is no stopping him nor making him postpone the work.

Speaking about work!

Hotaru is hard working and stubborn.

Once he gets to work... He. Is. Gone. 

The mix of passion and dedication in his case are actually a "deadly" combination. There is no way of pulling him away. Sadly, even as his own wife, you don't have this privilege.

Once, when you attempted to take the sword away to stop him, Hotaru snapped at you, his voice filled with frustration. "Don't you see I'm busy? This must be done, and I won't deliver a poorly made sword!"

After that, you never tried that again.

He can be gone for the whole day and night while forging a new blade. It's annoying when you cannot spend the evening snuggling with your husband. 

‌BUT you are actually useful when he loses his temper! 

"Y/N-sama!"  One of the young apprentices yells, getting your attention immediately. Kids here love you since you are much nicer than Hotaru, but one of them approaching you while on duty isn't something usual.

"What is it? Did something happen?" You ask, giving the boy a soft smile.

Boy nodded quickly. "It's Haganezuka! He lost it again."

Letting out an annoyed sigh, you nod and quickly follow the boy just to find your husband held by three swordsmiths, while he's thrashing around to get free while another swordsmith stood nearby.

"What happened here?!" You ask with a frown. 

Hotaru growls. "He interrupted my work! I was almost done with the sword! Now I will have to start all over again! I'll kill you!"

You blink and rub your face, no matter how many times it happened, you still couldn't get used to it. "Hotaru. That's enough, let's go home. I will make you mitarashi dangos."

He immediately stops his thrashing around and looks at you. Other swordsmiths look at each other confused and slowly let him go.

Instead of attacking the man that took the sword, he walks to you and hugs you tightly. "Let's go. I want mitarashi dangos."

Of course, it's not the only situation like this. Things like this often happen because of his temper. Sometimes you need to resort to tickling his sides, but this ends in you dragging him back home and him later scolding you for even doing this.

‌ Since he works hard. He gets hurt.

Hotaru hates this, but at the same time he loves it. No one likes to get hurt, and he as a swordsmith sometimes gets his hands a little damaged in his work fever.

It's annoying. Wounds even if shallow still hurt and disturb the work.

Thankfully, he has you and he can always count on your help. He will not admit it, but he loves the way your palms feel against his own when you wrap his injuries.

You are a slayer, yet your hands are small and soft compared to his. Not to mention, you are always so gentle and careful while taking care of you. No one else can take care of his injuries just like you do.

"There you go," you say sweetly, tying a knot on a fresh bandage on his hand. Before he can thank you, you press a soft kiss to the injury. "I told you to be careful and to work less, but you never listen. Is it really that hard to listen just a little bit? For once?”

No matter how many times he returned home with cuts or/and abrasions, you always helped him and then scolded him. Normally he would get angry at someone for talking to him like this, but when it comes to you; Hotaru can't be mad, he actually feels oddly happy you do this. 

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

In summary.

Hotaru is a good man. 

Others may hate him for his slightly angry nature, but that's because no one knows him like you do, not even a village chief.

He loves you in his own way and is forever grateful for you and the fact you love him back just as much.

Some people think you may regret marrying such a man, but you truly don't. He is the best thing that ever happened to you, and you wouldn't change him for anyone else.

[pygmi-cygni]

couldn't resist - marc spector

cw: failed aftercare/pos, overstim intensely, a bit of begging, desperate moon boys, Bodily Fluid. cnc, both are in a consenting relationship

not...kinktober but definitely something.

You shifted, whining uncomfortably as Marc shifted your knees up to your chest. The muscles in your legs were Useless after Steven had pounded you into a pulp. Reduced to a melted mess, you spread limply over the soaked mattress. Steven had smothered you in kisses for a bit until you were both exhausted. Marc had fronted immediately after, patiently wetting a rag and swiping gently around your folds.

"Lay still," he murmured, stroking your knee comfortingly. "I don't wanna hurt you."

You tried to stop trembling, waves of aftershocks sending occasional shockwaves through your limbs. The torn edges of your focus slowly restitched themselves as the soothing warmth brushed over your raw skin. The rag was gone, and Marc had begun gently rubbing in lotion.

Deliriously, you curled into yourself. A nap sounded wonderful. He grunted and righted you, raising a dark eyebrow.

"Almost done, honey, just wait."

You huffed a petulant sigh. Your pussy ached for a break, even though Marc was being very gentle. Your pink folds were puffy and glistening, leftover arousal still leaking steadily. Steven had sucked you dry but the stimulation was a little too much. Marc hummed quietly, fingers trailing absentmindedly through the mess.

"M-Marc," you hissed, twitching away. He chuckled and the feeling disappeared.

"Sorry, got distracted," he said sheepishly. Carefully, he lowered your legs to the downy blanket. The dirty ones were hastily shoved to the unused side of the bed. Steven fucked you closest to the wall so he'd have something to brace against. How considerate - he'd left half of the bed free from cum.

Your eyelids were heavy while you watched Marc dispose of the rag and lotion. He returned shirtless and dressed for bed. You scrunched up tighter, muscles aching pleasantly.

"Spread your legs, baby, it'll feel better. You're adding to the pressure." Marc gripped your thighs and tugged you down, gently opening you up to the cool night air. You tensed, preparing for another round.

All done, no more teasing. After a moment, you relaxed, realizing he wanted you to calm down. Marc leaned against the bedframe, eyes trained on your blushing, fucked out form.

"You're so pretty," he cooed, a finger tracing your ankle. You smiled blearily and patted the mattress.

"Sleep w' me," you mumbled, tongue thick and throat raw. Marc didn't respond, mouth open slightly as he stared at your ruined cunt. His hand absently began stroking the bedpost, eyes dark and soulful. You whined louder.

"Marc."

His lusty gaze snapped to your face, something warm and hidden glowing inside.

"I love you," he murmured, "you know that?"

Confused, you nodded, still unsure why he hadn't joined you. Marc crawled over the bedframe and knelt over your legs, hands rubbing gently on your waist.

"Sorry, baby," he whispered in your ear, lips brushing your earlobe. Frowning, you tilted to look at him.

"Wha-"

He shucked his shorts and with a massive groan sheathed himself in your warm, abused core. You arched and hollered, nerves reigniting at the sudden sensation. Marc moaned and shuddered, hips pumping slowly as your folds sucked him in.

"I know, I know," he groaned, warm palms groping at your love-bitten breasts. The sticky heat of your pussy gripped him wonderfully, all soft and wet from Steven's round earlier. The whimpers and sobs rolling out of you were music to his ears as he fucked long and hard.

"C-couldn't resist," he hissed, biting back another moan, "you j-just ah looked so p-prettygodfuckuhh," the sudden pulse of your gummy walls made him seize up, shuddering to grip onto the headboard. Marc howled and ground harder, hips jutting into yours.

It was hot, raw pleasure inside. Your body and mind were warring - one drank in the pleasure and the other actively shunned it, twitching and moving away. Marc's strong hands kneaded into your pillowy thighs and you moaned loudly, pulsing around his length.

The hazy grip of pleasure was choking any logic from Marc's mind. He knew you needed rest; Steven had just fucked your brains out for two hours. But god when you stared at him with those big doe eyes and a positively dripping cunt...

He couldn't resist.

A painfully fast climax had you in a headlock, sending searing heat downwards. Waves of hot sticky slick poured out, ruining the fine job Marc had done of cleaning you up. The added heat made him shudder and groan, churning that syrupy mess inside. He wanted to nestle inside as far as he could go, drowning in pleasure and your musky heat. It was an addiction. He needed to feel every velvety smooth stroke inside.

"God, why, ugh, why right n-now?" you moaned, writhing under Marc's strong grip. He didn't respond, laser focused on the heavenly drag of your flesh against his. His thighs were shaking with the force of his pleasure.

"Jus' a little more," he grunted, ravenously devouring your plush lips. The honey-sweetness of your mouth coupled with the succulent feel of your silky cunt was a lethal combination. He'd have to sprint to last long enough.

Even in your state, Marc knew you could take it. Steven was gentle with you even at his worst. Whatever he'd done to you earlier wasn't close to your limit.

So he pounded harder, rocking the mattress with the pistoning of his hips. Each thrust made a loud, wet sound against your raw pussy. The bounce of your tits demanded attention, which he happily provided. The added stimulation sent you spiraling.

You could feel your insides molding around him, gasping deep when he stroked under your sternum. The thick, raw energy that rolled off of your boyfriend had you drooling, slumping into his grip. Marc took the hint and flipped you flat on your back.

The mattress squeaked in protest to his pace, your hips punching into the soft fabric. Any hopes of salvaging the sheets were....not a priority.

Marc whimpered and ground up higher, trying to fuse himself to you. The inebriating heat of your cunt was making him stupid, humping and moaning like a dog. You were divine like this, flushed and utterly ruined underneath him. The stiff peak of your clit flared and pulsed with need.

He dragged a calloused thumb over your pearl, sending another crippling wave of pleasure up your spine. You flexed and gushed around his length, stirring the magma in his stomach. Time was all mushy and Marc struggled to slow himself.

Pace yourself, slow down, he remembered. But it was too much, too hot, too wet and tight and-

"Oh h-hell," he choked, cock pulsing and blushing red as he staved off his climax. He knew you were close, and the thought of finishing together was too good to pass up.

"Come on," he urged, stroking your clit and sucking on your jaw, "you can do it, baby, come on-"

Limbs locking tight with pleasure, you sailed over the hurdle, soaking his lap with your slick. Marc rutted and throbbed into you, muffling his moans in your neck. His aborted thrusts pushed his spend back inside, gushing and sticking obscenely on your thighs.

"Oh, sweet thing made a mess, huh?" his voice teased as you shuddered and hiccupped. Your response was severed by the dragging sensation of him drawing backwards. You wailed, your overstimulated folds weeping his seed and yours. The creamy slick glistened on your red, aching flesh.

Icing on a cake, Marc thought blissfully, mindlessly rolling his hips into a pillow. You saw his slowly hardening length and dragged in a slow breath. A fat, wet tear bubbled down your cheek as you met his dark gaze.

"B-but-"

"M sorry," he breathed, reaching for you, "it's so hard to stop..."

@krakenkitty @ominoose @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma

@iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world

@ael-xander @to-be-a-sunshine @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @silvernight-m tags! comment to join!

[wildestdreamsblog]

Might as well be drunk in love: 2 of 2 (sneakpeak)

Pairing: OT7 x Reader (CEO AU)

Summary: In which your friend thought it would be funny to give you a love potion, and in which seven CEOs accidentally drank it.

Warnings: Love Potion, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: This is only a sneakpeak of day 2. I'm not yet done writing the second chapter but I feel bad bcos of how long it's taking me...so here it is! Sneakpeak of day 1. Also, the entire chapter will be posted here when I'm done and satisfied with it :> Enjoy po

Part 1, Full day 1

“No one told me that we have an adorable new housemate.”

The six sleepy men sitting around the dining table looked up as soon as Park Jimin walked entered the room, in his arms was a fluffy cat that was actively hissing at him. He cooed down at it, softly stroking the thick fur with his hand that was now sporting claw marks.

“We’re already so close!” he announced with softness in his voice despite the repetitive kicks brought by the furry creature in his arm.

“I don’t think you are liked very much…” Jungkook quietly commented, his doe eyes went even larger at the bleeding scratches on his skin. As if sensing an opportunity to escape, the cat suddenly wriggled free from Jimin's arms and darted across the room, landing squarely in Hoseok's lap.

“Hi, my son! Did you have a good night’s sleep?” he asked affectionately, reaching down to stroke the cat's fur.

“Hyung has a secret son!” Jungkook whispered to Taehyung in a scandalous manner, clutching his nonexistent pearls. Taehyung, who looked like he lived and fought through three wars from his exhausted form and his sluggish movement only nodded at Jungkook.

“Whose cat is that? Is that yours, J-hope?” Jin asked, pointing at the cat with his mug. He didn’t know that they now had a furry housemate. Additionally, he didn’t know that he was a cat person.

Namjoon just smirked at his brothers, “That’s not his.”

“My God, I am so tired,” Jimin sat next to Taehyung, his muscles aching with exhaustion. With a heavy sigh, he leaned his whole weight on his friend, seeking some semblance of comfort in their shared weariness.

"Everything hurts," Taehyung moaned, mirroring Jimin's sentiment. He glanced over at Namjoon, pleading silently for a solution. "We need her. Hyung, please. Do something," he implored, his voice tinged with desperation.

Jungkook finally put down his spoon with a loud thud, standing up to look at them one by one. “Okay, I cannot be the only one curious about whose cat that is!” he pointed at the cat who only meowed back at him before shifting his finger to his hyung who was silently eating with a smile on his face. “And you, why do you look so good this morning, hyung, while the four of us look like we are 3 hours away from passing away?” he asked Yoongi, his doe eyes demanding answers from the chaotic bunch that only turned more chaotic as the morning wore on.

Yoongi, taking a leisurely sip of his coffee, raised an eyebrow at Jungkook's question. His lips curled into a smirk, revealing a hint of amusement. "Well, Kookie, some of us are just naturally blessed with good genes," he quipped, his tone teasing.

“Excuse me?! Are you saying that I am not blessed with good genes?! Me?! The world wide handsome?! Now, you’re just outright lying!”

“Hyuuuuung, do something! I think I’m dying!” Taehyung shouted amidst the noise.

“Stop screaming you’re scaring my son!” Hoseok shot back all while covering the cat’s little ears.

“Whose cat is that even?!” Jungkook asked again in disbelief, the vein in his throat protruding from annoyance and curiosity.

“Oh my God, Taehyung! I already did something, okay?!” Namjoon finally raised his voice for him to hear.

“Ahhhhhhh, my head hurts and she’s the only cure! I have to go to her!” Jimin whined sadly, attempting to leave his chair slowly.

“In that state?!” Jin shouted at Jimin and Taehyung, already feeling the stress causing havoc on his otherwise beautiful face.

But Taehyung and Jimin were already halfway out of their chair, clutching their heads dramatically. "I can't take this anymore! I need her!" he wailed, his eyes darting around the room with desperation only to find you by some miracle.

“Little one…” he called, his voice small as though he couldn’t believe that you were truly there. It was like their pain manifested you, and heavens, it was worth it. He’d willingly go through this pain if it meant seeing you and having you here where you belonged.

With them.

“Good morning, has anyone seen my cat?”

Your voice, despite it being low, was sufficient to stop the bickering among the CEOs. How they heard you amidst their own noise, you didn’t know. One thing was for certain, though. They were attuned to you like lovesick men did. Their eyes were on you with varying emotions. Jungkook was surprised, to say the least. Taehyung and Jimin, on the other hand, were relieved. Yoongi's smirk widened into a grin, his eyes sparkling with delight at the sight of you. Seokjin stared at you in disbelief, as if trying to comprehend how you managed to appear amidst the chaos. Namjoon and Hoseok exchanged a knowing glance, their expressions reflecting a sense of contentment and joy. The pair looked like they secured an extremely important deal and even won the lottery at the same day.

You didn’t see Taehyung moved but you certainly felt how his heavy body fell against yours. You certainly heard his sigh of relief even as he swayed on his feet.

And when you touched his hand to support him, that was when he fell.

[7s3ven]

can you please do poseidon/reader and she finds out luke is the lightning thief?

THE GRUDGE. luke (pjo)

( master list )

IN WHICH… Y/N L/N can’t forgive Luke for his crimes despite loving him more than she loves herself.

“I know in my heart hurt people, hurt people. And we both drew blood, but, man, those cuts were never equal.”

Warnings : spoilers, small angst (in my opinion lol. I’m more sensitive to family/friendship angst, not relationship angst), short(ish) oneshot

A/N : to any other writers, do you ever act out the situations you’re writing so you can write a better descriptions of reactions and then you realise that you’re actually a good actor?

Because I literally just acted out Y/N’s reaction and either I’m great at fake crying (which has been a talent of mine) … or my heart-wrenching sobs were real 😨. Also, the song one of us from the Lion King suits Luke perfectly.

—

The life of a half-blood wasn’t easy, especially not when you were a forbidden child. Y/N flipped through her fashion magazine, aimlessly swinging her legs as she lay on her front. “Y/N.” Luke called out, pushing the creaky door open. She lifted her head, staring at him curiously.

“Hey, Luke.” She smiled at him, clasping her hands together. He grinned back, slowly walking over to her side.

“You feeling okay?” He asked, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. With Percy, her half-brother gone, she was alone in her cabin. Again.

Y/N gazed at him through her lashes. “Yeah. I’m good. I’m fine.” She whispered, reaching out to grasp his wrist. Luke bit the inside of his cheek.

“I have your phone.” Luke uttered, handing Y/N her device. Phones weren’t allowed in camp but Luke found a way around that, much to Y/N’s happiness. She had spent far too long in the mortal world to give up scrolling through social media.

“Thanks, love.” Her pink-tinted lips curved into a soft smile. “You have no idea how much I need this now that Percy is gone on his quest. It’s so lonely here.”

Y/N always hated being in her own company. Her cabin got messy and she never had the motivation to clean it. She was thankful for Luke because he always helped her with the mundane task that should have been easy, but not for her.

“No problem, princess.” Luke lightly kissed her forehead while she laughed. “I can’t wait until Percy is back because I have a feeling that things are about to change.” Nothing good lasts for long. Y/N, more than anyone, knew that. She stalked through the thick vegetation, harbouring a heavy sword. She had heard rumours of Luke… and she needed to confirm it for herself, even if it meant endangering her safety.

“Luke.” She called out, her voice shaking. She didn’t want to believe the rumours but Luke was unpredictable. Ever since returning from his quest, he hadn’t been the same.

Y/N had been at Camp Half-Blood for longer than most and she had seen demigods come and go, desperately searching for glory but never finding enough of it.

“Luke.” She said again, repeating it like it was a mantra that would save him from the terrible fate he had chosen. She dragged her sword against the ground, her eyes scanning for the slightest bit of movement amongst the trees.

She sighed, thinking of returning to camp before she spotted a flicker of orange. "Luke?" She whispered, but he still heard her. She stepped towards him, breathing heavily.

"Luke... what... is it true? Did you..." Y/N couldn't find the right words. "What did you do, Luke?" She asked, grabbing him by the front of his shirt when she noticed how he avoided her gaze and how his eyes looked so guilty. "What did you do?!"

"I did what I had to, Y/N. The gods... they don't care about us." Luke stiffened as Y/N glowered at him, her eyes filled with so much rage and hate and sadness and everything in between.

"You're wrong, Luke!" She exclaimed, harshly shaking him.

"I'm not like you, Y/N! My father doesn't care about me. Yours might give a shit about you but that doesn't apply to anyone! Look around you. Poseidon ignored Percy for years while nurturing you. My father abandoned my mother and I when he could have helped us. Ares hates Clarisse for being a girl and forces her to train harder until she collapses. They try so hard to find every little flaw in us that they ignore what we've done for them."

"But why this, Luke? Why betray us? Me! You betrayed me, Luke! And all your friends and family! Hermes may not give a shit about you, but I do! I have loved you since we first met, Luke! I fucking love you and you betrayed me!" Y/N slammed her fists against his chest, screaming until tears welled up in her eyes. "What did you do to Percy?" She muttered, her voice barely even a whisper. "Tell me. Tell me now and I might spare you! Please… please.” She hiccuped, her hits growing weaker.

Luke wheezed as Y/N gripped his throat for a split second. "He'll be fine... he only got stung."

"I hate you." Y/N seethed, rage engulfing her soft heart until it spilled out and poisoned her body with its toxins. "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you! Gods, I hate you, Luke! Fuck you! Fuck… you!” She screamed, the sound echoing around the empty trees.

But she still couldn't bring herself to stab him. "Get out of here, Luke. Go! Leave! I never want to see your face again!" Y/N's voice shook as she shoved Luke away from her.

Heart-wrenching sobs slipped past her lips as she pointed an accusing finger at Luke. "The gods have fucked up, Luke, but you are no different. Maybe you had the right idea at first... but you went with it the wrong way. And it cost you everything. Don't go near Percy again. Don’t you dare touch him ever again! You don’t deserve his kindness! Don't even look at him because I promise you, if you do, I will drive a stake through your heart!” Y/N's confident voice faltered for a moment. She shakily inhaled. "I hope you're happy with yourself." That fated day still haunted Y/N's mind. She often had nightmares about it, where things turned out different had she stabbed Luke. She always woke up with a loud gasp, covered in a light layer of sweat.

On her nightside table, her phone rang. She hadn't been using it much since Luke left. She slowly reached for it. Nobody had her phone number except her close friend, who lived in Tokyo, her cousin, and... Luke.

Her heart was beating unusually fast as she shakily turned the device over to peer at the screen. Her stomach churned and she dropped her phone in horror. Percy was in the infirmary, still recovering from the pit scorpion attack. She was somewhat thankful for that.

She let the phone ring, letting out a sigh of relief when it finally stopped. But it started again, and again. Until on the third ring, she finally clicked the green button.

She didn't say anything, flinching at the sound of Luke's voice. "Y/N? Y/N. Thank goodness you picked up! I knew you weren't going to answer my iris message so I was hoping your phone was working."

Y/N cut Luke off from his ranting. "Luke... don't call me again."

"Wait, Y/N. Please listen to me. I love"-

She hung up before he could finish. She stared at her phone, gripping it tightly. With a guttural scream, she threw it across the room. It landed safely on Percy's bed and a part of her was glad that it did. It was one of the only things she had left from Luke.

She didn't know if she could ever forgive Luke for betraying her trust. And the worst thing was that she still loved him from the bottom of her heart. "You good?" Y/N quietly walked towards Percy, helping him sit up. He groaned.

"Yeah. I'm sorry about Luke... I know how much he meant to you." Percy's eyes softened as he stared at Y/N, intertwining his fingers with hers.

"He, uh... tried calling me last night." Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line.

Percy tilted his head to the side. "So what'd you do?"

"I ignored him until the third time... then I hung up after I told him to stop contacting me."

"You don't have to be so tough all the time, Y/N." Percy uttered, pulling her into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around her waste and she sighed.

"I really want to scream, Percy. I just... can't believe he could do that so easily. I mean, leave us... leave me. I'm trying not to care and I'm trying to say I'm fine but I can't let it go." Tears welled up again, dripping down the red apples of her cheeks.

Y/N would be lying if she said she hadn’t tried to figure out why Luke did what he did. She tried to piece everything together but it only hurt her head and heart to think.

After ensuring Percy was comfortable, she stepped outside. The camp was in utter chaos after Luke’s betrayal and they were trying to find more spies amongst them. Most people suspected Y/N because she ran into the woods to confront Luke and she was closely associated with him, which didn’t help. But she loved her friends and she could never leave them as Luke had.

She wandered into a small clearing, dipping her hand into a cold river nearby to calm herself. She didn’t even notice someone was watching her from behind until they cleared their throat.

With a panicked gasp, Y/N looked over her shoulder. She was expecting a fellow camper, maybe even Luke, but not Hermes in all his glory. The pair stared at each other for a minute before Hermes finally broke the awkward silence.

“You’re Y/N, right?” He hesitatingly pointed at her, worried he had the wrong girl.

She nodded.

“I know I’m probably the last person you want to see after Luke left.” Hermes started off, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.

“Luke is the last person I want to see.” Y/N retorted, “You’re second on that list.”

“He really did like you, you know."

“It wasn’t enough apparently.” Y/N shrugged, already accepting that she could tear Luke from his fate, “Maybe I deserved the betrayal… but not from Luke. He practically made me into the person I am. I guess he wanted to see how high he could build me before I fell. He had everything yet he still wanted more.”

“He cared about you. Dare I say, Y/N, he love”-

She cut him off just as she had cut Luke off. “Don’t say he loved me because if he did then he wouldn’t have done this! He… he wouldn’t have done all this!” Y/N choked on her words as she bit back a sob.

“He still loves you. Not loved. Not past-tense. Never past-tense. I’ve seen him, you know. He misses you and for a while, he tried to contact you in every way he could just so he could hear your voice. Even if you were screaming at him. I know that in another life, he wishes he didn’t have to leave you behind.”

“There shouldn’t be another life!” Y/N exclaimed. Getting angry at a god was dangerous but she was so frustrated and angry and hurt. Hermes didn’t seem to mind. He nodded his head, understanding her emotions. “Don’t you get it? You also have to take the blame. You’re part of the reason why he betrayed us!”

“He’ll forgive me eventually.”

Y/N shook her head. “No. You and every other deity thinks that your neglected child will forgive you but they might not. They might forgive but they will never forget. If I can’t even forgive the boy I love with all my heart, how do you think Luke will ever forgive you?” She furrowed her eyebrows.

“Forgiveness takes strength." Hermes whispered, barely loud enough for Y/N to hear. "Luke is much stronger than I originally thought and you, the mighty daughter of the sea god himself, are too.”

“Yeah, well,” Y/N shrugged as she stood up, brushing the dirty off her pants. “I don’t think I’m quite there yet.”

“It takes time.” Hermes said, “Meanwhile, I would suggest answering that.” He pointed at her phone that was ringing in her hand. Y/N didn’t even notice with how distracted she was.

She briefly looked down at the screen and raised her head again, her lips parting when Hermes was nowhere to be seen.

She hesitatingly pressed the accept button and raised her phone to her ear. She heard him quietly gasp, surprised she even answered again. “Luke… hi.”

PJO TAG LIST : @lostinhisworld @julielightwood @outerbanks-stuff @jennapancake @csifandom @evrybodydies1 @kkrenae @s0ulsniper @annispamz @justanotherkpopstanlol @soraya-09 @simpforeveyone @papichulo120627 @corpsebridenightamare @lilacspider @prettylilsimp @urmomsbananabread @ur-lacol-dsylexic @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @uniquely-her @imafrkinsimp @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @8812-342 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @ch16rles @lizziesliz @maryclx01 @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @julielightwood @crybabysbakery @jsbaby @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @froggiesstalks @happy-jj @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @csifandom @luvvfromme @mashiromochi @kamiliora @yorksyree @mqg125 @jamesmackreideswife @niktwazny303 @2hiigh2cry @user021099 @living-in-my-imagination88 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + sixteen

authors note: healing is not linear. regression, sadly, is a part of the process. and ultimately, if someone wants to hurt themselves, they will find a way to do so.

*this chapter contains extremely triggering content. please ensure to read all content/trigger warnings to make an informed decision regarding your mental state and ability to consume the following work of fiction. your mental wellbeing is forever and always more important than any story.*

cw/tw: heavy angst, violence, torture, ptsd episode, victim blaming, reference to childhood sexual assault, thoughts and urges of self-harm, suicide attempt

gentle reminder that you can call or text the free, confidential 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988 anytime, 24/7.

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 8k

“I–I just want to see him. Please—”

It’s got to be the third or even fourth time she’s tried to ask, pleading with her husband’s Wise Man to let her see her husband.

It was hard enough to get Solo to agree to take her to where Roman is, a medical clinic that’s clearly only open to tend to him and any other Bloodline member injured in the shootout. That’s evident by the lack of anyone present outside of an impressive number of Bloodline security. 

An uninjured Bayley and Naomi met her at the house shortly after she arrived with Solo, and while she was pleased to see they were okay, to hear that Jimmy and Jey also made it out uninjured, the man she cares about the most is ironically the man she seems incapable of checking on.

She can’t find a way to settle her anxiety, continuing to play the scene of him shot, outside of her head. 

That’s why she needs to see him. 

She has to see him.

Paul sighs, and there’s irritation evident both in his tone and facial expression. “Solana, I don’t think—hey!”

Fuck it.

He’s silenced by Solana rushing past him, nearly knocking him over in the process. Eyes wide with shock, he stammers, looking just as bewildered as the security guards around him. “Well, don’t just stand there, stop her!”

The men rush to run after her, Solana well aware of the fact that the likelihood of her outrunning them is slim to none. 

Doesn't mean she can’t try. 

It’s a silly thought though because of course security would be up and down every hall of the clinic, sets of hardened eyes falling on her, ready to attack when they realize who she is. It changes the dynamic a bit. Expressions still stoic and lethal but also confused.

Solana freezes only for a bit as she forces out her request, a poorly delivered demand, really to the guards that line the hall that she suspects house the room Roman is being treated in. 

“I need to see my husband.” No one says anything, two of them sharing an expression as Solana decides to try her luck again, knowing that they wouldn’t actually shoot her, trying to sprint past them.

She’s unlucky this time though because one of the guards catches her, restraining her. This makes her tense up almost immediately, fear rising up yet again for the thousandth time tonight. 

“Let go of me!” Solana tries to wiggle her way out of the iron grasp, eager and almost needing to get these strange male hands off of her, such a stark contrast to the comfort and safety she feels when it’s Roman who has his hands on her. “I need to see Roman! Please!” 

The man holding her and probably pulling her away from the direction of Roman’s room says nothing, just continues to ignore her demands to be released.

“Man, what the hell you doing!”

Solana’s head snaps to the side as she lays eyes on an enraged Jimmy who stalks over, his mere presence and tone causing the man to release her. Solana gasps a bit as Jimmy grabs the man by his collar and slams him against the wall. “Don’t you ever put your fucking hands on her again! You lucky it’s me here and not Roman cause he’d already have a bullet in your head for touching his wife!”

Jimmy looks around, shouting, “that goes to all of ya’ll asses!” He points to Solana. “She asks for Roman, you take her to fucking Roman, alright?”

Bowed heads of shame and a sudden focus on the laminate flooring of the clinic, Solana is relieved when Jimmy walks over, voice calmer, motioning her to follow him. “Come on, Soso.”

Solana wants to ask Jimmy if he’s okay, inquire about Jey, make sure that they’re okay. Bayley and Naomi already told her as such, but they don’t know that. It’s just what’s most polite and appropriate, but all she can think about is Roman and laying eyes on him.

She needs to see him.

And as awful as it may sound, she cares more about making sure her husband is okay before anyone else.

Caught up in her thoughts, she misses when Jimmy knocks on a door in a rhythmic pattern, followed by Jey cracking the door open.

Jimmy sucks his teeth. “Man, open the door. It’s Soso.”

Solana, however, has no desire to wait any longer and finds herself, pushing on the door, forcing Jey to stumble back. “Damn, girl!”

She’s not listening though, uninterested in apologizing because she’s focused on something else. 

Focused on someone else. 

An older man with blonde hair pulled back, dressed way too casually to be a medical professional seems to be finishing up bandaging her husband who stands only feet away, shirtless, revealing the shoulder tourniquet that conceals the wound. The place where he was hurt.

Where he was shot.

Emotion renews, and a new set of tears reload as she finds herself moving over to him, pressing her body into his, doing her best to avoid touching his left shoulder. Her eyes shut, tears spilling over when she feels Roman’s hand on the small of her back.

“Get out.” It’s directed to the twins and who Solana would guess is the doctor who treated his wound, that last thing being what causes her to pull away, to look over at the stranger.

“No. You—you have to help him—”

The man chuckles and removes the blue latex gloves from his hands. “Lil lady, that’s a job only the big Man Himself can handle.” She frowns a bit as the man with striking blue eyes and an almost country accent explains, “He’ll be fine. Bullet went straight through. Didn't hit any bones, artery, or organs. If he takes it easy for a couple weeks, he'll be good as new. That’s assuming, however, he actually follows the doctor’s orders for once.”

It’s that last sentence that makes Solana wonder if this is the same doctor who diagnosed Roman with high blood pressure and medicated him for it. It makes sense. 

But, it’s when they’re alone that the waterworks seem to really come out, Solana unable to hold it in any longer. “I’m sorry—this—this is all my fault.” She cries, Roman gently cradling her face as she shakes her head. “You–you got hurt because of m-me-.”

Roman looks thoroughly confused, asking, “what are you talking about?”

There’s such a heaviness in her stomach and on her chest. She doesn’t want to do this. God, she really doesn’t want to. But, it’s her not doing this in the first place that landed them where they are. 

“Roman…..” She closes her eyes. This is so much harder than she thought it would be, and she never thought it would be easy per se, but she also didn’t think it would be this damn painful. “My—my father. He…he wanted our marriage to happen so—so that I—” It’s like knives splitting and slicing the back of her throat as she forces out, “he wanted me to kill you.”

If Roman has a strong or visceral reaction to her dark confession, he doesn’t show it. His expression remains unreadable, maybe a bit of concern, but that was present the minute he laid eyes on her. 

“And he said that if I didn’t do it, then he–he would kill me, and that’s w–why you got hurt tonight, because—because of me, because I didn’t say anything.” A fresh set of tears generate as she desperately tries to help him and make him believe her as she explains, “but, I—I was never going to—I could never—I’d rather die than do anything to h–hurt you.”

And it’s the truth. 

She would have rather him let the bullet hit her than him. 

It’s not fair he had to pay for her actions. Or lack, in this case. 

“Solana.” He cuts her off, gentle, voice much calmer than she anticipated in response to such a confession. “I already knew.”

And just like that, she’s back to not breathing again, rendered nearly incapable of speech as she stammers out a response, “w–what?”

Roman sighs deeply, thumb caressing the apple of her cheek. “I always knew your father was up to something. I’m far from stupid. He was too eager and pushy to make the marriage happen. It was obvious he had ulterior motives.” His eyes squint a bit, as he asks her, “why you think one of the first things I did when we got married was cut off contact between the two of you, huh? Whatever he was planning, I wasn’t gonna let him use you to do it.”

Roman’s words together make a logical, sensical sentence, but it’s the processing of it that she struggles with. Roman knew. He knew all along that her father was planning something. 

And yet he said nothing.

He has no reaction. 

He continues, admitting, “I didn’t know specifically what he had planned, but it doesn’t really make a difference. Murder. Coup d'etat. He wasn't the first, and he won’t be the last.” It’s the casual way he says it that Solana feels so conflicted about, so stunned how he can be so calm about constant threats against his life, against his empire. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been shot, and it probably won’t be the last time.”

“Don’t say that.” She whispers. The trauma and shock of seeing him shot was bad enough, and seeing he appears okay is relieving, but the thought of it happening again feels almost unbearable.

“Solana, you know what I am and what I do. But, it’s like I told you before, I have a tendency to not die, which pisses people off.” His delivery towards the end manages to make her smile. It’s small and sad, but a smile nonetheless. “There it is….” His thumb brushes away some of her tears. “Don’t cry, baby. You know I don’t like seeing you upset.”

She noticed. The same way she doesn’t like to see him hurt. For him to be anything other than okay. 

Roman’s eyes shift into something softer as he asks, “why didn’t you tell me?” It’s a question born from curiosity versus the accusatory nature she would expect from someone who was just told their wife was sent to kill them. 

It’s a bit of a difficult one to answer too. “I was—I was scared. At the beginning of our marriage, I—I was scared what you would do to me if—if I told you.” 

There’s an almost pained look that flashes across his face as he vows, “Solana, you know I would never—”

“I know. I know that now.” She stresses, gently cutting him off. There’s not a doubt in her mind that Roman would never do anything to intentionally hurt her. “But, I—I didn’t then. And….I think I just—I didn’t want to think about it, because things were going good and—and I hadn’t seen him in so long, but I was wrong—and I should have said something sooner—”

“It doesn’t matter.” He’s the one to cut her off this time, shaking his head. “But Solana, your father has crossed a line this time. He tried to kill you.” Roman’s eyes are blazing with with the flame of anger and fury, a desire for vengeance clearly dancing at the forefront of his mind. “I know I told you I wouldn’t kill him until you told me—”

“I don’t care,” she affirms, voice darkening into something also angry. “He—he tried to take you from me. I don’t—I don’t care what happens to him anymore. Him or Wes.” 

Because while she doesn’t know the status of her brother and his recovery, Wes was just as involved with the evil plan, so what went down tonight had to have some influence from him in one way or another. It makes him just as guilty. 

Roman nods and kisses her temple. He then calls out, “Jey.” It’s loud enough for his cousin to hear, opening the door and asking, “what’s up?”

Roman doesn’t hesitate. “Get me Miller. Just Xavier.” Solana must look curious as he explains, “your brother isn’t well enough yet. I want him back to health, so I can prolong his torture.” It paints a picture of a brutal, gruesome ending, but she can’t find it in her to be repulsed. Whatever hope she had for her brother is clearly long gone, if it was ever there.

“You got it.” Jey nods and closes the door as Solana places her hand on Roman’s forearm, drawing his attention down to her. 

“I—I want to talk to him before—-” She swallows, asking, “please?”

Roman nods. “Of course.” She’s thankful for his agreement but not entirely surprised. He breaks away from her, countenance shifts into something stoic and determined. 

“This ends tonight.” 

________

Solana’s introduction to the place where her husband has probably taken and ended more lives than she’d like to admit is definitely a one and done thing. The atmosphere alone is so dark and depressing that if not for her hand in his and him walking closely alongside her, she might even find herself a bit scared.

But his presence along with her determination to get in her final words to her father manage to carry her over. 

She’s also both surprised and relieved when she sees Bayley and Naomi also present. She’s unable to ask them about their presence because Roman is already explaining, “I know you don’t want to be home alone tonight, and I’m not making it back anytime soon.”

She nods, not needing to know why. The edge in his voice is all the telling she needs.

Solana’s stomach drops a bit when she’s taken to her father, strapped to a chair, hands and wrists tied. His face is bruised up, cut, and bleeding. Her eyes must give away her curiosity, Jimmy answering, “he fell.” 

Jey suddenly punches him in the side of his head. “Ain’t that what you said when you and your boy was beating on your own fucking daughter?”

Solana swallows. Yes. That’s often what he said to cover up the result of their abuse.

Solana drops her hand and steps a bit closer to him, Roman not once moving or ripping his eyes away from them. It’s virtually impossible for Xavier to do anything to her, but she understands her husband is not willing to take any risks, regardless. 

She ignores the weapons and items around her, no doubt intended for unspeakable acts of violence and torture. She just focuses on the man before her, taking in the fact that this is the last time she’ll ever stare into his dark eyes and have to look at his evil face. 

“All—all I ever wanted….was for you to love me.” She hates the emotion that chunks up the back of her throat, making it a bit harder for her to speak. “But you never did, and you never will, and—and that’s okay.” She recalls one of the many powerful, profound quotes from her book, reciting it boldly and confidently. “Your inability to love me is not a reflection on my ability to be loved.” She’d like to say she witnesses some type of emotional reaction in her father at her powerful statement, but there’s nothing there.

There never was. 

Stepping back, she takes one final look at him, accepting this is the end of this road. The end of all the hurt and pain he’s ever caused her. After tonight, it’s all over. “Goodbye, Dad.” 

Solana is back by Roman, taking her hand in his as Xavier’s small, dark laughter draws her attention back to him. 

“Didn’t you ever wonder how they bypassed the security system? Both times?”

Solana’s brows are furrowed, confusion dancing in her eyes. Before she can say anything, Roman barks a rough order to the twins, “gag him!” 

One glance at him, and she sees something unfamiliar, something that looks strangely close to nervousness. 

To fear. 

“No,” she finds herself calling out, stopping Jey who was halfway close to doing just that, bandana in his right hand. “What—what are you talking about?”

“Solana, he’s just trying to fuck with your head.” She hears Roman, feels his slight tug on her sleeve as he tries to pull her away, but she also detects something else.

Avoidance. 

Roman is intentionally trying to divert her away from this conversation, topic, whatever it is.

Xavier chuckles cruelly, coughing up a bit of blood. “I warned that bitch. I told her what would happen if she tried to take Wesley away from me.” 

Now…now he has Solana’s full attention. 

She steps toward him, asking again, “what are you t–talking about?”

“Solana, please—”

But, she continues to ignore Roman and instead focuses on whatever it is her father is about to drop on her, something she feels is about to change everything. 

Xavier’s bloody smile is cruel and taunting as he reveals, “I was the one who ordered the hit on your mother.” And before she can even sit on that, another bomb is dropped. “And you.”

Solana staggers back, jerking away from Roman as he reaches to touch her. Her mouth is dropped, her heartbeat erratic. She all of a sudden feels dizzy, but it doesn’t stop her from asking again, “what—what did you just say?”

“Shut him up, Jey!”

“No!” Solana shouts both at her husband and his cousin. “I want to know!”

“Your mother was planning to take you and Wesley away from me, and truth be told, if she left Wesley and just took you, I probably wouldn’t have given a fuck. But no, she wanted both of her children. She was a problem, so I got rid of her.” Each word that leaves his mouth has Solana wanting to sink further and further into the ground. “The hit was for both of you, but of course, you fucking survived.” The venom in his voice and hatred in his eyes is almost palpable, further deepening the pain of this betrayal. “I refused to pay them the full amount since they botched the job and didn’t kill you, but that still left the balance for your mother….the balance you paid for me.” And with the most vile smile of all, he adds on coarsely, “who’d have thought a kid’s virginity would sell so high?”

And it’s that statement. That cruel, vindictive statement that breaks her.

Hand to her stomach, Solana almost collapses to the floor but Roman is behind her, catching her fall. 

Now that she can focus on him, on anything other than the millions thoughts racing through her mind. Random facts and statements finally coming together, painting a horrific, grim picture.

The failure of the security system both times.

The failed pin entry of her mom’s shaking hands and two years later, Solana’s shaking hand, as they desperately tried to enter the panic room, only for it to flash a red rejection notice.

It was him the whole time.

He killed her mother. He was the one responsible for her rape.

All of it. 

Emotions erupt to the surface as Solana tries to break from Roman’s embrace and lunge for her father.

“I hate you!” She screams, unable to think and see beyond her pain. “I fucking hate you!” She can’t stop trying to break Roman’s solid grip on her. She wants to hit him. Wants to stab him. Burn him. Anything and everything that can make him feel just a fraction of her agony. “How could you do that to me!” She cries, wanting, needing an answer. Needing to know why. “I was a child!” She’s never felt something so heavy, so painful. “I was your child!” 

As her physical resolve breaks, more diminishes than anything, Solana feels Roman trying to guide her away.

But it’s a mistake, it’s a mistake because she uses that slice of an opening to break away from him and snatch one of the guns on a table, pointing it at her father’s head. But then, she’s not. She’s not because Roman is suddenly standing between her and her target.

Her resolve falters for a bit, as she shouts at him, “move!”

Jimmy’s furious voice calls out. “Man, let her do it, Roman!”

Roman’s gaze is fiery as he silences his cousin with a shout. “Shut up!” But just as quickly as he was enraged, his expression softens almost inhumanly quickly as he pleads, “Solana, listen to me—”

She’s not trying to hear it though. She can’t hear it. “He killed my mother! My mother!”

“I know,” his expression softens into something solemn and sympathetic. “But you don’t want to do this—“

She snaps, her fingers on the gun tightening, her grip firm and focused. “He needs to die!”

“And he will, I promise you that. Slowly. Gradually. In the agonizing way that he deserves, but that can only happen if you let me do this for you—”

Solana cries, shoulders dropping but her aim still intact. “He let them rape me.” Her body trembles, a combination of her heartache and inconsolable rage. “He took her from me! She was my mother!”

If not for the severity and all around heightened tensions, Solana would notice the heartbreaking and furious expressions of the twins, Bayely, and Naomi who now know the exact horror she has experienced. The reason for her disposition. The source of her trauma.

Roman, however, remains focused on de-escalating the situation. “I know, baby, but you’re not a killer, Solana, and I’m not about to let you become one.” If she was thinking straight, capable of thinking clearly in this moment, she’d know he’s only protecting her. Only trying to save her from the thing she told him not even a week ago she could never forgive herself for. Taking someone’s life. “Once you do this, there’s no turning back.”

Solana’s eyes shut as another round of tears makes its way to the surface, heavier and harder to manage with the gun in her hand.

Roman notices this and takes a tentative step forward. “Please, Solana.” His tone is almost desperate, borderline begging. “Give me the gun.”

Eyes still closed and with a weakness she hasn’t felt in years, Solana relents, loosening her grip, allowing Roman to take the gun that he quickly hands to Jey. He moves to catch her as she falls into his chest, sobbing again. Roman cradles her head and kisses the top of her hair while Jimmy and Jey move to jump Xavier, taking that opportunity to get blows in on the old man, both careful to avoid any that could be lethal.

It’s obvious this son of a bitch is in line for a world of suffering that will extend far past tonight.

“Oh, we finna take our time killing you, motherfucker.” 

Everything sounds a bit distant. The sound of the twins yelling obscenities at the demon she called a father. Roman trying to comfort her, to settle her. It’s all too much. Too overwhelming. The crying settles into something sullen and solemn, silent tears streaming down her face as she murmurs against him, “I want to go home.”

The emotion is there, but her presence and awareness of everything is diminishing. Solana knows what’s coming, has experienced this state of separation, of dissociating. 

She needs to get away.

Roman says something she can’t make out, and before she realizes it, there’s another set of arms around her. Bayley. Naomi is chatting with Roman, the only thing she’s able to make out, 

‘Don’t leave her alone.’

Alone.

She’s not sure she’s ever felt that as strongly as she does at this moment.

________

It’s all such a blur.

Such a separate thing. Emotions separate from her. Emotions that are dark, heavy, confusing, overwhelming. Fleeting. There’s an oscillation of all the feelings. Tears that accompany heartache. Sobbing that accompanies grief. Nothing that arrives with nothing. 

It’s a brutal, miserable experience of feeling the weight of the world but also the emptiness of the void.

It’s obvious that Naomi and Bayley don’t know how to help her, don’t know how to comfort her, just continue to sit with her, letting her cry when she needs to and scream when she has to. Even Dulce sits by her side, whimpering every so often and licking her.

It’s appreciated. So appreciated. 

But….it’s not enough.

Losing her mother was heartbreaking. Losing her in the way she did, so violently and graphically was torture.

Being held down and gang raped by two grown men at twelve years old nearly killed her. They nearly killed her.

But, there’s something about finding out that her father, her biological father, was responsible for those two things that’s almost impossible to believe.

She knew her father was cruel.

She just didn’t know just how cruel until this very evening. 

Escape.

Her mother was trying to escape, trying to make a better life for herself and her children. And he killed her for it.

Tried to kill Solana too, and when that didn’t work, he traded her virginity in exchange for payment. 

Flashes. Glimpses. Images. 

They’ve been hitting her nonstop since the truth came out. Playing in her mind like some kind of sick horror film. It’s torture. It’s painful. It’s unbearable.

It’s too much. 

She places her hands on the bathroom counter, having finished using the bathroom after waking up yet again from night terrors.

Her eyes shut.

Solana is tired.

So so tired. Tired of the pain. Of the lies. Of the betrayal. Everything hurts. Everything feels so heavy. She tries to escape in sleep, but the memories haunt her and suddenly, she’s reliving it all, but now with the horrific knowledge that the first man who should have ever loved and protected her was responsible for her biggest traumas.

And it’s impossible to escape those flashes, those thoughts and flashbacks becoming more frequent and intrusive by the minute. She’s suffocating.

Drowning in her own head.

Drowning in her own body. 

Solana’s eyes open and fall over to the shower where her razor would have been available if not for her earlier strength and ability to hand it and the brand new box of them over to Bayley and Naomi.

Just an hour or two ago, she was able to do that much. Able to resist that temptation and not break years of sobriety.

But, now…. now she can’t. 

She doesn’t even want to.

That would only provide a temporary escape.

She’s just….just so tired.

She wants….needs something longer.

Something more permanent. 

Unable to escape the mental anguish, Solana leans down and digs through a toiletries bag from the trip she hasn’t unpacked. 

And she pulls out the bottle of sleeping pills. 

Roman’s request from months ago returns, smacking into her. 

“Any of those thoughts come back, you tell me. I don’t care if you have to paint it on the fucking wall. I want to know.” His intense expression is set right on her, needing to make sure she understands what he’s asking of her. “Understand?”

Her eyes water.

Roman….

Even with his lack of being honest with her, of somehow knowing but not telling her the truth, there’s never been a person that she’s loved more than him. Not since her mom.

It’s why she can’t call him. Can’t continue to burden him with having to deal with all her shit.

All she’s done since entering his life is make shit difficult. She’s done it with him. Bayley. Naomi. Jimmy. Jey. 

All of them.

They’ve had to adjust so much just for her, and for what? For her to end up right back where she started?

She can’t….she can’t do that to them again.

She can’t do that to Roman again.

She loves him too much for that, loves him too much to continue to hurt him.

She just….she just needs to remove herself from the equation.

Needs to remove herself from all of their lives. 

Forever. 

Shaking hands twist off the cap as she dumps a handful of pills into her trembling palm.

There’s the briefest second of a delay, a moment where she reconsiders, where she wonders if she’s making the right decision. But another flashback hits her, the feeling of the knife slicing through her mother’s lifeless body and entering Solana ripping her away from that reconsideration.

Another thought of Roman and her friends having to help her yet again.

Save her again.

She can’t do it anymore. She doesn’t want to do it anymore.

There is no saving her anymore.

This is the only way. 

And she swallows, using the water bottle on the counter to force the excessive amount of pills down her throat. A brief glance at her reflection brings on another set of silent tears. Broken. Empty. There’s nothing left for her to do, no reason for her to exist anymore.

Not even bothering to put the pills away, Solana walks out of the bathroom and into the dark bedroom where Bayley is the first to ask, still sitting in the chair in the corner of the room, dedicated to staying awake for her ‘shift’, completely unaware of this being the last time they’ll interact. “Do you need something?”

Solana shakes her head and climbs back onto the bed. Grabbing her phone, ignoring the tears that blur her vision, she types out a simple text to the one person she’ll miss the most. 

She’ll miss them all, but none more than him.

Solana: I’m sorry. 

Sent and delivered, she locks her phone, placing it on the nightstand, closing her eyes. 

Solana just wants to go to sleep.

And this time…..not wake up.

________

Rage. 

Fury.

Wrath.

And any word synonymous to anger, yet none of them adequately describe what’s coursing all throughout Roman’s body. Years. It’s been years since he’s felt this much anger, held so much of it that he has a hard time thinking and feeling.

He’s incapable of escaping the sound of Solana’s sobbing, the way she literally fell apart in front of him, breaking before him.

And it’s all because of the son of a bitch currently underneath him on the receiving end of  devastating blow after blow of Roman’s brass knuckled fists. How long he’s been hitting the old man is beyond him. Not long enough.

It’ll never be long enough.

Never painful enough. 

Not for what he’s done.

A hand on his uninjured shoulder temporarily pulls him away from his newfound life mission to make this piece of shit feel every type of pain imaginable before he takes his last breath. 

Roman’s roar bounces off the walls. “What!”

Jey looks unfazed by Roman’s irate tone and instead advises, “he’s unconscious, Uce. Let up or you gon kill him.”

That’s the fucking goal.

But not yet. Death is too sweet for Xavier to receive at this point.

Huffing and suddenly aware of all the energy expended as well as the blood splattered all over his clothes and face, Roman tosses the knuckles to the side and issues an order to Jey even while walking, refusing to acknowledge any appreciation for his warning, “let me know when Jimmy has them.”

Them.

Them being the two men who have no idea what kind of horror awaits them. Men whose names were tortured out of Xavier pretty easily by Roman.

Rapists.

Solana’s rapists. 

Reaching the locker room  in the back, Roman easily strips himself naked and steps in the shower, allowing the water to rain down his body, red mixing with clear and disappearing down the drain. Hands against the shower wall, he shuts his eyes.

He can’t escape the sound of Solana’s wails. He’s never heard or seen her so upset. Never wanted to. It’s the exact reason he settled on not telling her the truth, because he knew this would happen.

Knew this would destroy her.

It’s just the extent of the destruction that worries him.

Just how far back this has set her that has him feeling something he hasn’t felt in years but has now experienced twice tonight. Once when he saw the hand raised and gun lifted in Solana’s direction and now her breakdown.

Fear.

It has him scared.

And Roman doesn't know what to do with that emotion, doesn’t know how to handle it outside of beating the shit out of and torturing her father and rapists. But even that only does so much.

It doesn’t do enough, because she’s hurting, more than she probably ever has, and he can’t do shit about it.

Because making the fuckers who hurt her suffer doesn’t do shit for the pain she’s experiencing now.

And he hates that shit. Hates that she’s hurting and he can’t help her, take away that pain from her.

With all the frustration in his body, Roman slams his fist into the shower wall, forcing himself to calm down just enough to get cleaned up.

He uses a fresh set of clothes in the lockers to redress himself, redoing his bandages and using a towel to dry off his hair as best as possible. 

But, it’s when Jey comes and seems to interfere with Roman starting his next round of torture, a thought of starting to skin the old man sounding more than desirable, that his frustration multiplies.

“Not now.”

Roman continues to walk when he feels Jey forcefully grab his arm, forcing him to turn around. Roman looks at his hand and then back at Jey. “Have you lost—”

“Roman.” 

But, it’s the tone that stops the Head of the Table from issuing out his threat. In all the years he’s known Jey, he’s never heard his cousin use such a heavy, spooked tone.

“What?” There’s hesitation, and that only pisses Roman off. “What!”

Jey swallows, answering with an almost pained countenance. “Solana’s at the hospital.” Jey’s frown, sadness seeped and imbued into his usual gregarious voice. “She tried to kill herself, Roman.”

________

Three.

There’s now been three separate occurrences in a single day that have caused Roman to experience the emotion most unfamiliar to him.

Fear.

And this third time, it’s the strongest it’s ever been as he marches into the hospital floor where he was informed she was.

“Where is she!”

And when his gaze lands on a clearly disturbed and crying Naomi and Bayley, the anger only grows as he moves over to them. “What the fuck happened!” Roman doesn’t give them time to respond, too consumed with his anger that’s truly a mask hiding his fear. “Why weren’t you watching her! I fucking told you to watch her!”

Bayley is the first to shoot up from her chair, eyes watery but scowl intact. “We were! She—”

But, he’s not trying to hear shit what she has to say. Not when they’ve failed him in the worst way possible. “Obviously you fucking weren’t because we’re standing in a goddamn hosptal–”

Jimmy, who Roman had completely forgotten came along with him, Jey as well, does his best to diffuse the situation, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Roman, you need to calm—”

But the Head of the Table is too far gone, harshly shrugging off his cousin’s innocent attempt at calming him down. “Don’t fucking touch me!” Roman removes himself from their presence, not even wanting to see these useless bitches as he calls out once again. “Where is she!”

It’s only then he sees a blonde woman walk out from the back, dressed in a white coat, clipboard in hand. She looks irritated which only pisses him off because how the fuck do you work at a fucking hospital and look annoyed. But, when she sees him, or maybe sees how irate he is, her gaze softens. 

She steps in his direction as Roman also steps toward her, putting some distance between himself and the group. “Mr. Reigns, can—”

“Where is my wife?” It’s the same question he will keep asking until it no longer needs to be asked because he’s taken to her.

The woman, doctor, probably, frowns, motioning to the back. “Can we talk in private?”

Roman pinches the bridge of his nose, doing his best not to violate his code of never putting his hands on a woman. But, this bitch is really fucking pushing it. 

He just wants to see Solana.

He needs to see her. 

“You’ve got three fucking seconds to take me—”

She scoffs, relenting and “Fine, we’ll do it here. Your wife is in recovery. We were able to successfully pump her stomach, but we had to sedate her because she was inconsolable upon waking up. I suspect she’s in the midst of some sort of psychotic episode.”

There’s so much in that sentence to process. Roman doesn’t even know where to begin to dissect it, so he starts with the part that pisses him off the most. “She tried to overdose on pills and your solution was to put more fucking medicine in her?”

The doctor, however, seems to show no sign of backing down. “My patient needed to be stabilized, so I stabilized her.” Her voice softens a bit as she adds, not necessarily as something to throw in his face but rather an important note he shouldn’t ignore. “If you had seen how upset she was, you would have understood.”

Roman, however, can’t think about that. Can’t think about how upset and terrified Solana must have been. Somehow a level calmer, he expresses once again, “I want to see her.”

“I understand, but—”

Right away, Roman knows his brief respite from level 10 rage is about to be broken by whatever she’s about to say. “What?”

She takes a deep breath, informing, “I’m putting her on a 5250 hold.”

Roman looks from side to side. “What the fuck does that mean?”

There’s no sign of hesitation as she explains, “it means I’m keeping her here in the hospital for two weeks on a legally mandated psychiatric hold.”

Yeah….he was absolutely right. 

Level fucking 10. 

“Like hell you are!” Roman is seeing red. Who in the flying fuck does this bitch think she is to say Solana is staying in the hospital? “She’s coming home with me. Tonight. The minute she fucking wakes up.”

And that’s a fact.

“How much do you know about Solana’s psychiatric history?” A lot, and that’s why he knows she doesn’t need to stay here in this forbidding, sterile place. She needs to be home with him so he can take care of her. “This is her second suicide attempt. Now, I don’t know what the hell happened to trigger this psychotic break, but your wife is severely and actively suicidal.” She lowers her voice, softly and almost sympathetically sharing with him so only he can hear. “She was inconsolable because she was upset we saved her life. She was upset she was still alive.”

That’s it.

The thing that makes Roman’s anger crumble almost entirely. 

He wanted to believe it was a mistake, an accident of some sort. Didn’t want to believe that she truly intended to take her life tonight.

But this woman has no reason to lie, and beyond that, he’s innately adept at deciphering when someone is lying and when they’re being truthful. 

She’s not lying. 

Solana wanted to die.

Solana wanted to actually die.

And he doesn’t know what to do with that information. 

At all. 

The crack in his harsh exterior must be evident, because the doctor continues to try to convince him what he now knows probably is the right thing to do. “You can get her to sign an AMA and take her home, but I guarantee you that she’ll end up right back in this hospital for another attempt…..and the next time might be too late.”

He can’t.

Roman can’t lose her. He can’t even let himself think about what he would do if he lost her.

Especially if it was because of her own actions. 

She continues, desperate, “let us get her stabilized. On a medication regimen. As I said, this presents as a brief psychotic episode, which we can help her manage and treat but only if you let us keep her here to monitor her.” 

Roman tilts his head back, eyes closed as he scratches his beard. There’s an unfamiliar weight in his chest and stomach at the thought of having to leave this hospital tonight without Solana. But this isn’t about what he wants, it’s about what’s best for Solana. 

It’s about what she needs, and he’ll do whatever he has to do to make sure she gets the help she needs. 

“Jey.” His cousin steps up, previously keeping a respectful distance. “Get with security. I don’t want a son of a bitch that’s not Bloodline or Bloodline vetted to step foot on this floor while she’s here.”

Jey nods. “You got it.” 

Roman overhears footsteps followed by the woman speaking again, “Thank you.” She takes another deep breath and informs, “Now, it’s standard practice that we not allow visitors the first couple days—“

And just like that, the anger has returned, even more intense now that he knows Solana isn’t getting released tonight. Or anytime soon. “I don’t give a fuck about your standard practice—”

Bayley’s voice suddenly enters the conversation, Roman aware that the remaining group has stepped forward, obviously wanting to be aware of the plan and what happens now. “Roman, can you please just let Dr. Stratus do her fucking job? This isn’t about—”

Bayley, however, chose the wrong time to fuck with him. Because any filter he ever acquired because of Solana certainly won’t be used until she’s back home, with him, where she belongs.  “Like you were supposed to? Solana wouldn’t be here if you were watching her like I fucking told you to! This is your fault!”

There’s a small, minute part of him that feels bad when he sees the devastation on Bayley’s face, but it’s short lived, vastly overpowered by his tremendous anger. 

And fear.

Bayley is quick with the response though, ready and willing to aim just as low as he is. “Fuck you, Roman! You don’t get to blame this on us! You should have fucking told her! You had no right to keep the truth from her! She’s here because of you!”

The dark irony in her accusation is that It’s nothing he doesn’t already know.

Nothing he doesn’t already hate himself for.

Bayley is absolutely right.

This absolutely is on him. 

His attempts to save her only damned her. 

“Stop it! Both of ya’ll! This don’t do shit to help, and Solana wouldn’t want ya’ll fighting!” Jimmy suddenly jumps in, moving between the two highly emotional people, even if both are only expressing it as anger. He turns to his cousin first, as Naomi tries to pull Bayley away, also working to de-escalate an already tense situation. “Look, Uce, I know you want to see her, but—”

“I’m not leaving without seeing her.” Roman’s gaze is on his cousin but it’s directed toward the doctor who either takes some type of mercy on him or recognizes that Roman will literally kill everyone who gets in his way if she doesn’t give in to his demand, because she’s switching her tune.

“A couple of minutes,” she relents. “But only you.” 

Roman doesn’t care about the rest of them anyway. They can see her whenever they fucking see her. 

He’s the one who needs to see her. 

But, it’s in seeing her that a part of him wishes he didn’t. Because this isn’t right. She shouldn’t be laid up like this, unconscious, pale, such a sad expression on her sleeping face.

He hasn’t seen her like this since that first night he overheard and woke her up from her nightmare.

A nightmare. 

He’d give anything for that to be the case again. 

“I can’t lose you, Solana.” It's the first thing to leave his mouth, a plea and prayer. There’s nothing but vulnerability in his voice, and he doesn’t give a fuck. He’ll be as vulnerable as he needs to be for her. He’ll do anything for her. “I need you. I told you that, but I don’t think you understand how badly I need you.”

If there was any doubt before, it’s completely destroyed now. He doesn’t know how honest or comfortable he could be outside of these four walls, if it wasn’t just the two of them, but right now, with nothing but her steady breathing and rhythmic beating of the machines she’s plugged up to, he’ll pour his heart out.

“You can’t leave me, alright?” Roman’s hand moves to her forehead, thumb caressing her skin that feels too cold, doesn’t feel like her. “I don’t care what it takes, what you need, what I have to fucking do, but I need you to get better, and I’ll do anything to help you.” 

And he will. It’s why despite how much he hates this notion of having to leave her, the almost anxiety he has at having to leave tonight without her in his arms, he’ll do it. He’ll do it because he just wants her to be happy.

She deserves that, and he’ll do whatever it takes to get it to her. 

His voice is thick with emotion. “I just need you to stay with me, baby, okay?” Not being able to see her pretty brown eyes, the curl of her full lips as she smiles, his favorite fucking thing in the world, it’s torture.

He never wants to see her like this again. 

He can’t. 

He won’t.

Roman kisses her forehead and forces himself to walk out of the hospital room, one of the hardest departures he’s ever had to do. Dr. Stratus is waiting outside the door, and just like that, the infamous stoic, unreadable expression is back.

With Solana, he’s just Roman.

But for everyone else, he’s the Tribal Chief. 

There is no other option. 

“No men on her care team. Women only.” If she’s going to be here, he’s going to make sure she

has everything she needs. “I want daily updates. Anything happens or changes with her status at all, I want to know. You understand me?”

Dr. Stratus must have also read the section in Solana’s medical records that alludes to her sexual trauma, because she doesn’t object. “Understood.” She swallows, bringing the medical chart to her chest. “You know…I head an inpatient women’s psychiatric clinic about an hour out. It’s not uncommon for patients like your wife to transition there following dis—”

“You can keep her on your two week hold, but she’s coming home with me as soon as that’s up. Try and get in my way, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

She’s wise to not push, smart to not try to stop him from leaving, because as far as Roman is concerned, there’s nothing and no one he’ll stop short from torturing, killing, and maiming if they try to get in his way of being with Solana.

He can’t live without her.

He loves her too much to live without her.

[sixosix]

heyooo!! can I request Izuku when his fingers accidentally brush against the readers??? And they grab his hand and he gets all flustered <333 sorry I just can’t get this scenario out of my head!! He’s so silly!! /pos

a/n omf i cant believe my izuku readers r still alive… i havent caught up in the manga since forever so if theres anything wrong, thats why LOL i missed izuku so much T__T, wc 1k

Izuku is guarding a terrible, terrible secret. One that he wouldn’t even admit if his classmates roped him into an intense game of Truth or Dare, unless drunk, probably. Which will never happen.

Class 1-A Dorms roars with laughter. Izuku swears he can feel the building shaking as the students occupying the vast space of the living room burst into another fit of cackles. The other building could probably hear it, and they’d get a noise complaint the next morning, from 1-B, no less.

They’re watching a movie. Comedy, perhaps; Izuku wasn’t paying much attention when they were picking, but he could pick up the clues of what the characters on screen are saying, his classmates jostling his shoulders as they giggle, and, of course, the same mp3 laugh track that plays for the rest of the film.

Izuku is tucked into the far corner of the couch, squished between Todoroki and Uraraka. Uraraka laughs with her whole body, her head thrown back as she claps in delight. Todoroki laughs once, a huff of amusement, just a curl of his lips.

And on the floor, nestled between where Izuku dutifully keeps his knees spread so as to not hurt, sits you—the whole reason why Izuku is struggling to focus on the movie in the first place.

He’s eternally grateful that keeping the lights dim while watching films is a thing, or else everyone would’ve long noticed his burning face. He looks like a strawberry, and feels like a strawberry left under the sun. Todoroki had cast him a glance, vague amusement playing on his stoic face. Izuku wanted to dig a hole and bury himself in there forever.

“Sorry, Izuku,” you say, loud enough to be heard over the film but quiet enough that it’s only shared between the two of you. He wills his legs not to jump up in surprise. “Can I just lay for a bit? I’m getting kinda sleepy.”

“No problem,” Izuku says after a beat, managing to not fuck up and stammer embarrassingly in front of you. Or should it be behind you?

You tilt your head upward, meeting his eyes. “Thank you.”

“Y-Yes. I mean, you’re welcome.” Dammit.

Izuku breathes a sigh of relief when your attention is promptly stolen by the laugh track, and Kaminari yelps a cackle.

He catches something from the corner of his eye, paling at the sight of a terrifying expression on Uraraka’s face. If devils had round eyes and rounder cheeks, smiling in a way that fits their nature, it would be a picture of evilness Uraraka is portraying at this moment.

He squints inquisitively at her.

Uraraka grins. “Your hand,” she whispers, then does something he can’t quite figure out.

Confused, Izuku shows her his hand, scars and all.

Uraraka looks unimpressed, and Izuku wilts. He can’t hear her properly, with the movie picking up pace and sound effects. Uraraka makes a grand demonstration of splaying her hand and resting it on the crown of her hair, then gestures wildly at your head. 

As soon as understanding dawns on Izuku, his face feels drained of blood, horrified. “No,” he mouths desperately. “No.” Again, for good measure.

“Yes,” she mouths back, taking matters into her own hands by quite literally taking his hand and moving to place it on your head. But he panics and jostles your hands resting on his lap instead.

Izuku pales. The characters in the movie shriek. “Sorry,” he squeaks out, then glares at Uraraka, who’s holding in her laughter.

He heaves a heavy breath when you cast him a curious glance.

“You—Sorry, I, my hand—No, I mean, I didn’t mean to do that,” he blurts uselessly, waving his arms around in a desperate attempt to hide his face, which is surely the same shade as anything red.

What the hell, his brain hisses. Izuku, you idiot, you’ve done it now.

He watches with bated breath as you take his hand instead of laughing at his face. He watches as you lace your fingers with his instead of seeing your face scrunch up in disgust. His heart flutters, threatening to fly off his chest and into the shared warmth of your hands.

Instead, he deflates like a red balloon, his mouth forming words that sound like nitpicking vowels from a series of keyboard smashes.

“I don’t mind,” you say. “Relax. I want you to hold me.”

It’s a little hard to relax when your words float around in his mind like a broken record.

Once the movie ends and the noise subsides, his classmates collectively keep their messes—namely, the thrown popcorn and spilled soda on the carpet—and return to their rooms. But Izuku can’t do that, not when he has a Y/N who is still resting against his lap.

He waves goodbye at Uraraka and Iida, the former making kissy faces and Iida solemnly sending him his prayers.

Izuku resigns himself to his fate, sighing softly. Well, despite everything, he likes the fact that you never once let go of his hand.

“I like your hands,” you say, as if answering his thoughts. Izuku jolts and can’t help it because he thought you were asleep.

“You… do?”

Izuku thinks his hands are ugly, scars running all the way to his shoulders like protruding veins. He hates seeing it.

“I do,” you say, squeezing it tenderly. “I’m glad it’s still together and working after all you’ve done to it. I like them.”

Izuku bites his bottom lip, harsh enough that it’s nearly drawing blood, lest he says something stupid like, ‘I like you’. He doesn’t, thankfully. Yet it’s there, on the tip of his tongue. If you asked him what’s on his mind, he would’ve said it.

But he guards his secret a little while longer and hopes that someday he’ll be able to share it with you.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, finding the courage to squeeze your hand. Much to his delight, you do it back and smile. He’s melting. “Can we, uhm, stay here for a bit?”

You laugh, rising from your position. Izuku nearly panics and holds you down because he doesn’t want to lose this moment just yet. But he finds himself stunned when you settle beside him and rest your head against his shoulder instead. “Sleep,” you say. “We’ll stay here for a bit.”

“O-Okay, yeah,” he whispers, reaching for your hand once more.

[ivestas]

underlying bitterness

Summary: You were depressed. The family is quick to notice. 

Tags: platonic!yandere!batfam x fem!reader, reader implied to be mentally ill, depression, coddling, isolation, etc (you know the drill)

Word count: 1.6k

Notes: temporarily back from the dead! decided to finish this since i had it collecting dust in my drafts LMAO---apologies for my lack of writing, i have several projects im combing through and school 😭

The manor never really was quiet; there was always something going on.

The only time the quiet came was when they were out for patrol, or when everyone was asleep—but even then, there always seemed to be a pervasive spirit of noise and life that, on a good day, didn’t bother you.

But today was a bad one. Today, everything was an unbearable stretch of life, a near-constant torment of both mind and soul, leaving you incapacitated by your own head. 

It was these days where the bearable—hell, even the nice—was acidic on your gaunt body. 

A knock on the door had you wearily raising your head. 

A call of your name bounced through the door. The voice was bright and chirpy, downright dripping with honey. “You okay in there? Can I come in?” 

Eleven minutes alone? New record.

You sighed. The question only had one answer. 

“Yes, and yes.” 

The door to your bedroom opened silently, barely a squeak from the hinges. Dick revealed himself with a giant dopey grin, Damian just a step behind him. 

You didn’t bother smiling. “Hey.” 

“Hi!” Bright as always, his movement carried an excitable sway, acting more like a kid than a 20-something bonafide detective/vigilante. There was something predatory about it, an inherent layer of manipulative intent with it that never left you at ease. 

At least Damian was always himself, the deep-set frown never leaving his face in anyone’s presence, including yours. 

You would’ve been inclined to like him had it not been for the palpable softness that eased the furrows of his brows. 

Shifting under the heavy blankets, you pat the other side of the bed, the movement practiced and learned. Routine. 

Damian was the one to take the invitation while Dick sat at the end of your side. He rarely sat there. You didn’t care to decipher his intentions, merely regarding him with the same placidity as you had before. 

“So..?” 

“The family’s noticed you’ve been off lately?” 

Ah.

You shifted some more, feeling the weight of their stares assess every micro-movement made. It wasn’t subtle. This was an interrogation, not their self-indulgent visits that had you puking right after. 

“I’m on my period,” you responded bluntly. 

“Your cycles aren’t during this time of month.” Dick’s voice was deceptively light. 

"Hm, well, the female body works in mysterious ways.” 

“Then I’m gonna go check the washroom garbage.”

The silence of your mind buzzed to life. “What?” 

“I’m gonna go check the washroom garbage.” He repeated, rising from the bed. 

What the fuck.

You could let him go and find out for himself that you were, indeed, lying. However, you weren’t in the mood to deal with the punishments that came with that...

...Though, regardless, you were going to be punished. Lying—especially to Dick of all people—never bode you well. 

Really, maybe you just weren’t in the mood to deal with the drama, the stormy face he’ll don when he walks out the washroom after finding out the lie. 

So you sighed tiredly, back sinking further into the thick pillow. “I lied.” 

Dick’s pleasant expression flickered. Damian’s stare deepened in its calculating weight. 

Dick spoke slowly. “You know what happens when you lie.” 

You sighed again. It bordered a scoff. “Hurry up with it then.” 

The smile turned to a neutral line, though you knew he was feeling anything than neutral. Dick loathed lies, but he kept a calm voice. “Why’ve you been off lately?” 

“I lied, Dick. Aren’t you supposed to do what you usually do? Neglect and all.” You were flippant. This was gonna make it worse, and at this point you knew better, you always tried to avoid this, but something was possessing you. 

A will, or more accurately, a lack thereof. 

“Just tell him,” Damian hissed. 

You glanced at him, unimpressed. “No.” 

Dick breathed slowly. “Why?” 

“Because you’ll make me feel bad for it.” 

He blinked. Surprised. 

Why was he surprised? Is this another manipulation tactic? 

Probably. Why did you even bother trying to decipher his intentions? Their intentions?

“You’ll make it about you guys. How bad you guys feel. How you want the best for me.” You yawned. “I’m not in the mood to humor that. Pull that some other time, I just need to recuperate. Touch bases with my soul and all that hippie shit.” Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment. “Okay?” 

A pause thickened the tension in the air tenfold. 

Then, it was Damian who spoke. “You’re..?” 

“Depressed.” Dick finished, mild disbelief lacing his words. What stood out was the underlying offended tone the word wore. 

You didn’t bother responding, keeping your eyes shut, pulling the covers over your chin. It was only midday, but you were tired. 

“Why are you... ‘depressed’?” Damian was the one to speak, now with incredulity. 

“Why is the sky blue?” You muttered. 

Cold fingers brushed your cheek, a colder voice poking through. “Open your eyes when you talk.” 

You did as told, looking up at him from your curled position. “Why are you depressed?” He repeated with a voice of iron. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you responded. “None of it does. I’ll be better soon. I just need you to give me space.” 

Another pause. 

Then, uncharacteristically, Damian slipped away. He glanced over where Dick was. 

Dick, even more uncharacteristically, nodded and slipped away, walking with Damian out the room. 

In any other circumstance, your blood would run cold. 

But, at that moment, you were thankful for the temporary relief. 

-----

You hadn’t thought you’d sleep, but you did, only to be awaken by Tim. 

“Dinner’s ready.” He said, eyes burning into yours. 

You grunted, tossing the sheets away. The cold raked your body. Getting off the bed, you glanced out the barred window. 

Sunset. 

How long did you sleep? 

And how come they let you sleep for so long, undisturbed? 

You didn’t care to wonder. Blearily nodding to Tim, you tipped your head to the washroom. “I’m gonna clean up a little, give me a—”

“You look fine, just come.” His hand, now wrapped tightly around your wrist, left no room for complaint. 

Faintly sighing, you nodded again. He led you out the room and through the colder corridors of the manor, down several staircases and past various pillars and paintings you’re always surprised to see, as if you hadn’t been housed in the manor for two-something years. 

Two years. 

730 days wasted here. 

730 days, never to be recovered. 

Your chest tightened, but your heart was empty.

Pushing the thought away, you blankly focused on the outstretched dining table you’d eaten countless meals on. 

Tim said your name. 

You look at him, confused. 

“Sit?” 

Oh. Right. 

You slipped onto the chair, vaguely aware of your surroundings. 

“...That’s my seat.” 

“Sorry,” you moved to get up, but his hands pressed down on your shoulders. 

“No, it’s fine, I’m just surprised. That’s all. You’re usually pretty attentive.”

“Sorry,” you repeated. 

Tim didn’t respond, opting to sit beside you. 

You were vaguely aware of the rest of the family settling in their respective positions—Bruce sitting at the head on your left, Dick sitting across you with Damian to his right, and at the end of the table Jason settled with a tired huff.

What you were fully aware of however was how good the food. The aroma was thick and savory, leaving your mouth to water 

Raising a fork, you dug into the food. 

“How was your day?” Bruce was the one to break the silence, and you notice him looking at you. 

“It was good,” you mumbled around the food. 

A silence cradled the room for a moment, the clanks of silverware mute. 

“Was it?”

“Yeah.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“What, is there a right answer to this?” You were daring, careless with your tongue. “Should’ve given me a textbook, woulda studied real hard before coming down.” 

“The right answer is the truth,” Jason spoke up, mouthful of food. “Dickie’s all red and angry you can’t even tell the truth. Honestly? So am I.”

“We all are,” Tim murmured. 

“But you know? We care for you. So just tell us what’s up, yeah?” Although his voice was light, there was an underlying threat to Jason’s words. Tell us or else. 

You set the fork down and looked at Bruce—whose eyes were sweeping all over your face, calculating—the both of you having frowns tugging at your lips. “Okay. I feel like shit. A dumpster fire. Like my very body has been corrupted by dark—I don’t know exactly what that means, but I feel it, so worth mentioning, right?—anyway, all I ask is to be left alone for a bit. That is what will make my mind better. Just a day of quiet. Please?” 

“...Voluntary isolation is a sign of clinical depression,” Bruce began. “And that would do you no good. What you need is the support of family to help you through this illness.” 

“God, no—”

“Listen.” Damian hissed. 

You shut your mouth, eyes downcast. 

“What will happen is every night, you talk to Dick about whatever’s bothering you. Or anyone else. You will talk, and that will help. Anything you need, just tell them; you know this.” 

“Why not get an actual therapist?”

“You can’t trust all therapists,” Dick jumped in. “I’ve trained in psychology, I know all the therapy ins-and-outs. I can help you as well as any licensed one would—if not, better!”

You stifled a sigh but didn’t bother pushing saying anything. 

“You don’t look to happy about that,” Dick commented. “It’s okay. I know its hard to open up when you’ve suffered in silence for so long, but we’re all on your side, okay?”

Jesus. 

You looked down at the food, picking up the fork. It took you everything not to bash your head against the table.  

[agaypanic]

To Love a Monster (Emmett Cullen X Human!Reader)

Kinktober Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Request Something! | AO3

Kinktober Day 31: Monsterfucking

Summary: Emmett never thought that he’d fall in love with a human. It’s too dangerous, there’s so many things that could go wrong. But when you look at him with those pleading eyes of yours, how could he ever say no?

A/N: happy halloween!! i know today’s literally the last day of october but i swear ill get the other kinktober fics done and posted. im finally getting medicated so i think that’ll help with my procrastination/lack of inspiration lmao emmett cums inside but reader does NOT get pregnant with a hybrid freak like bella did

C/W: unprotected p in v sex, interspecies relationship (human and vampire), soft dom!emmett, emmett trying to not literally break you, slight pain kink

***

It was so wrong, being with Emmett. It was dangerous, the amount of power he had over you without even trying. He could kill you, drain you dry without a second thought.

But you didn’t care. You loved him, and he loved you. He made sure that was known by telling you a million times a day and by being extremely gentle with you. Sometimes, he treated you like you were glass, which annoyed you every now and then. But when you were with Emmett, who had extreme strength, you might as well be glass.

Sometimes, Emmett was scared to be with you. He didn’t want to hurt you, and he didn’t want to accidentally lose his resolve around you. But when you looked at him, eyes full of want and wandering hands somehow warming his stone-cold body, he could never refuse you.

“God, you feel so good, babe.” Emmett groaned as he stared up at your naked form bouncing on his cock. Although he liked to be in control, he’d occasionally let you take the lead. If he was feeling generous, he’d even let you tie him up like he was now. 

Emmett thrusted up into you, and your hips stuttered. “So big, Emmett.” You sighed, splaying your hands out on his broad chest to keep yourself steady as you kept riding him. “Makes me feel- ah! So full.”

Your boyfriend kept fucking into you, but it wasn’t enough for him. There was only so much he could do without his hands. 

“Wanna touch you.” He complained, tugging at his restraints half-heartedly, knowing they’d snap if he actually used force.

“Where, Em?” You asked teasingly. One of your warm hands left his chilled chest to grope your breast. “Here?” Or…” Slowly, your hand trailed down your stomach, inching closer to where you and Emmett met. Two fingers ghosted your clit, and you clenched around Emmett’s hard cock at the sensation. “Maybe here?”

While you continued riding and teasing yourself, Emmett’s eyes were glued to you. You looked so damn perfect, he wanted to be the one touching you and making you whine the way you were now. 

Sensing he was getting frustrated, you leaned close to Emmett. “Do you wish you could touch me, honey? Fuck me and tease me until I’m creaming all over your cock?” Emmett let out a moan so guttural it sounded like a growl. You smiled, knowing you were about to get what you were really wanting. “Is that what you want, Emmett?”

He answered by ripping the rope that was holding him to shreds, freeing his wrists so he could finally get his hands on you. Emmett grabbed your hips and flipped you so you were the one underneath him before thrusting in and out of you like a jackhammer.

Emmett half expected you to start yowling in pain from the force of his thrusts and his iron grip. But instead, you let out an endless string of moans and locked your legs around his vast body so he wouldn’t get away. 

“So -ah, so fucking, fuck, good!” You were quickly losing your sense, becoming overwhelmed by Emmett stretching your cunt and practically slamming into your cervix. It just hurt so good.

“You’re so tight.” He hissed, fangs coming out in the midst of his heavy lust. “And so wet for me.” He dipped his head down to rest in the crook of your neck. His lips ghosted over your pulse point, your pumping blood spurring him on. Very lightly, Emmett dragged his pointed teeth over your skin. Not enough to make you bleed, but enough to send a shiver down your spine. “And you smell…” He took a deep breath, sighing as he reluctantly pulled away from you and sped up his thrusts. “Fucking delicious.”

Feeling close, you reached down to rub your clit, but your hand was quickly smacked out of the way. Emmett wanted to be the one to make you come. 

He rubbed your clit in a fast circular motion, his other hand holding your hip with enough force to not end up breaking it. You’d likely have a bruise that he would surely baby you over.

It wasn’t long before your orgasm hit, and Emmett grinned down devilishly at you as your eyes rolled back. “That’s right, babe. Cream all over my cock.” 

You did just as he said, orgasm prolonging as Emmett continued his ministrations to reach his own peak. Soon enough, he was painting your walls with his cum, fucking it deeper and deeper into you. As you both came down from your highs, Emmett slowed his thrusts. But he didn’t stop them. Instead, he decided to keep fucking you at a snail’s pace until you were ready to get absolutely wrecked again.

“That was…” You took a deep breath to collect yourself, letting out an airy laugh. “Wow.”

Emmett smirked, leaning down to kiss you deeply. “If you thought that was good, wait until you become a vampire. We wouldn’t leave my room for a week.”

***

Twilight Taglist: @wedfan2 @natashamaximoff-69 @pink-hufflepuff

Emmett Cullen Taglist: @fuckshitslover

[pocoyo-yo]

PASTA & LOBSTER

SUMMARY: i got a white boy on my roster.. he be feedin me pasta & losbter

WARNINGS: leon!kennedy x black!reader, smut, fem!bodied reader, f/m, unprotected sex, a lil cum eating, dirty talk, doggy (pos.), rough sex, manhandling, hair pulling, slapping (ass), lots of degradtion, some praise, situationship, petnames? (lots of 'slut', sweet thing, baby, officer), leon is a meanie but he whimpers, i imagined re4 (remake) leon for this but it can be which ever leon you want tbh

-×▪︎☆▪︎×-

the aroma of alfredo sauce from the styrafoam to-go boxes filled the motel room— you could see the piles of noodles in the back of the reflection from the mirror.

your face was pressed firm into a pillow while your running mascara dripped onto the cream colored covering.

"stay tonight," harsh breaths left the man above you. "need you all night long.."

you shivered— the harsh jolt of your hips everytime your bodies made contact on that sqeauky bed had you hiccuping on cries.

"hey," you gasped at how quickly your head was yanked up by your now messy hair. "we just started don't you go dumb on me now— talk to me.." the slight growl in slurred voice made you whimper.

your eyes dared to roll back in your head. ".. I'll stay— don't ever wanna go.." you pleaded— heavy pants left your swollen lips.

he chuckled, "god, y're such a slut." his hips tilted upwards at a slight angle— allowing his fat cock to sink further into pussy.

you stuttered on moans— legs trembling while your sticky arousal rolled down your thighs. you could barely breathe— your eyes stung with tears.

his thrusts were practically animalistic— not a sense of empathy or corcern for your wellbeing. sex was never this rough until you met him— you loved it, really loved it, you craved it even until you actually got it. until your muscles were tight and your legs were shaking to point the feeling in your toes had faded to numbness.

"leon.. l— leon," you reached back and pathetically pushed at his abdomen. "it hurts— can't breathe.." you babbled.

a sharp sting landed on your ass cheek making you whine and shake your head weakly.

"y're a fuckin' liar.." leon hissed— yanking your head back even rougher than before. he twirled your hair around his fist— the hair he paid for last time he got back. god, he spoiled you. he had better things— more important things to worry about than spoiling you and yet he still did it.

just for you.

"you said you 'don't ever want to go'— but y're trying to push me away? just the definition of a damn slut.." he mocked you— slapping your ass again and groaning softly at the ripple in your skin.

your brows knitted together as you dug your teeth deep into your bottom lip.

"you said it hurts right? what hurts?" leon questioned— his words were laced with painfully obvious fake sympothy.

his cock slipped almost completely out of your pussy before it sunk back in— the girth had you feeling like you were being stuffed full. your puffy pussy wrapped snug around his cock like a glove— a warm, wet, and tight ass glove that leon kennedy couldn't get enough of.

"y're too," you sniffled. "too deep 'n too big— it hurts.."

leon sighed, "poor baby," he sped up his movements earning a pathetic pornographic moan from your swollen lips. ".. you said you can't breathe? fuck, tell me— why can't you breathe?"

your nails sunk into his hard abs before leon grabbed your wrist— pinning it to your back which made you arch further.

"leon.." you mumbled.

"leon? so it's my fault again?" he scoffed.

you pouted, "y're too big— 'can feel it in my chest!"

"chest?"

"m— mhm.."

he grunted, "but you love it, yeah?" strands of his blond hair stuck to his sweaty forehead.

"I— I love you," you moaned. ".. 'love the way you fuck my pussy, lee.."

leon furrowed his brows at two things; the first was the sudden 'i love you' that left your lips and the second was the nickname you said 'lee'. he tried to believe it was because he had you drunk of his cock that you sputtered out those two phrases, but leon kennedy spent enough time with you in bed and out of it to know that you don't just say 'i love you' to anyone no matter how good you feel, and also you absolutely dispised nicknames.

"I know,"

he definitely did not know.

".. only a slut in love with me," leon groaned—chewing on his lip as sweat rolled down the bridge of his nose. ".. would take a fucking like this 'nd beg for more."

you whimpered loudly, "f— fuuuck!" your body shivered at the throbbing heat that pooled in your core.

the wet sound of his cock sinking back in your creamy folds was music to leon's ears. he looked of at the mirror and grinned before he yanked you by the hair to look as well.

"y're so pretty," he grunts— blue eyes hooded as he rolled his hips against you and dragged out his thrusts. ".. so pretty when you just moan and take it without being a bitch about it."

you whined at the tightness forming deep in your gut— eyes rolling back in your head.

"no," leon's thrusts become unapologetic once again— splitting you open with ease while his tip kisses your clit everytime. ".. y're going to watch yourself get fucked by me— gonna watch this slutty pussy of yours take my cock like a champ." he ordered and your lashes fluttered as you stared at the lewd sight through a blurry gaze.

"l— lee please," you cry out— clenching your fists. ".. oh god—"

he chuckled before a grunt left his lips when his cock slipped out of you mid thrust— it was wet and a ring of creamy white dripped around the base onto the sheets. he let go of your hair and you groaned in fustration and looked back over your shoulder, waiting for him to put it back in.

"leon c'mon.." you huff.

leon released the wrist he had pinned to your back and nodded down towards his twitching cock.

"I didn't say to stop lookin in the mirror," he scoffed. ".. fine, you want to be impatient? put it back in yourself."

you kept staring to see if he would let up but he was competely serious— his heavy hand landed on your ass again.

"make sure you watch yourself do it too, understand?"

you looked at yourself in the mirror on the wall and reached back behind yourself.

you clicked your tongue, "I understand, officer."

before leon could respond you wrapped your fist around his cock and pressed yourself against him. you mewled while you rubbed his tip over your wet, pillowly lips before you pushed it inside of your dripping hole— sinking the rest of his length in you until just his heavy balls were pressed firm against your pussy.

leon groaned, "there you go— not that hard right?"

you yanked your hips forward— slipping off of some of his dick, and then you let him slip back inside of you. leon moaned and glared at you in the mirror while your face contorted with pain and pleasure as you fucked yourself on his cock like he was some dildo.

"this is nice.. fuck.. that's my pretty slut," he stroked your back while you threw your ass back on his cock— moaning softly. ".. you like it like this? just using me?"

your cunt ached and you looked at leon in the mirror. ".. I can't reach deep enough, leon," you complain in a quiet, embarrassed whine. ".. need more of your dick.."

leon grinned, "so you need help?"

you nod shlyly.

"words?"

"I need help," you frown embarassedly. ".. officer."

you could see the slight shift in leon's expression when you called him that. the tight tug of his lips and the sharpened gaze of his blue eyes. his large hands gripped your hips and just from how hard he was holding you, you already knew his handprints would bruise your skin.

there was no warning— all you did was scream leon's name at the sudden change in pace.

you clawed at the messy sheets and let tears fall while the loud, agressive claps of your ass filled the room.

"damn y're tight.." he moaned— his skin finding yours so quickly there a slap every other second.

you clenched your teeth and resisted the urge to squeeze your eyes shut and let your pleasure take over. it didn't look like leon was watching you but you knew he was— another slip up and he'd be on your ass; no cumming for another hour at least and you couldn't handle that.

"ooh," you sobbed— eyes stinging with tears. ".. shit! shit! shit!"

"missed this pussy," leon babbled— whimpers flowing from his parted lips. "missed seein ya like this— missed fuckin ya like this. when it comes t'making it back home— knowin' you'd give it up t'me so easy s'one hell of a motivater.."

you sniffled, "m'close.. make me cum, lee.." your hand snaked in between your thighs and rubbed circles over your sensitive clit.

leon grunted, "don't ya worry— I make this pussy cream everytime I'm in it, don't I?" he hovered over (and close to) you— forcing himself deeper.

your gummy walls were squeezing him with no remorse— pussy spasming around his cock while your body shook uncontrollably.

the tightness in your belly relaxed— the pace of your finger tips quickening over your clit. ".. l— leon!" you cried out— your release rolling down his cock.

leon hivered and let his his head loll back in between his shoulders. "f— fuck that's it," his thrusts grew sloppy as your sticky cum smeared over his cock and dark brown happy trail that led down from his belly button. ".. o— oh my god.. oh my god that's a good little slut.." leon whined before he pulled out of you suddenly.

"on your knees— press those pretty tits together.." he panted heavily.

you quickly scrambled on your knees, cupping your tits and squishing them close together.

leon stared down at you with flushed cheeks— his fist dragging up and down his cock while you batted your lashes up at him. your hair was a tangled mess thanks to him, your eyes were puffy along with your lips thanks to him, cheeks stained with mascara tears thanks to him too, the bruises and kissmarks on your skin thanks to leon s. kennedy himself.

just the concept that he did that to you had leon gulping at the sight.

"f— fuck oh fuck," he whimpered— pre-cum rolling down from the red tip. ".. c'mon c'mon gonna cum all over those fuckin' tits. y're mine. y— y're my slutty girl who let's me fuck her pussy whenever I want, yeah?"

you nod with a lazy grin, "m'yours leon— this is only your slutty pussy.."

leon panted, "that's right.. oh fuck—" he stiffened up as ropes of his hot release landed on your tits while he fucked his fist— little whines leaving him as he came down from his high. his white cum was splattered across your brown skin— some of his already dripping down the curve of yout tits.

you coated your fingertips in his release before you popped them into your mouth— humming at his taste.

you giggled, "thank you, officer."

leon let go of his softening dick before he leaned down and kissed you— it was surprising gentle, his pink lips brushed over your lips before he slipped his tongue in the crevase of your mouth. his teeh tugged on your bottom lip while you ran your fingers through his blond hair.

"you're perfect," he repeated against your plump lips. ".. you're perfect, sweet thing.. fuckin' perfect."

leon s. kennedy was just like, if not worse than you, when it came to saying 'i love you'.

the man has had so much luck with women that it didn't feel all that lucky anymore. the words weren't really in his vocab at this point, but you didn't hate him for not saying the phrase back because you loved him.

though a close second to 'i love you' for leon kennedy was perfection— he never liked to throw that around willy-nilly either. so for now in this.. whatever it was between you two, that was your 'i love you too' and you were grateful to him that he felt close to same way you did.

"let's shower before the motel throws us out.." leon grumbled.

you smiled and kissed his nose, ".. one more time in the shower then, officer kennedy?"

"god," leon scoffed. ".. you're absolute perfection, baby."

[helloitstsyu]

Confession | Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

My masterlist

Pairing : '86 Maverick x f¡reader

Summary : you have a crush on maverick, he notices. Maverick pushes you to confess.

Warnings: alluded smut. Mostly overall fluff.

Requested: by anon. Thanks for requesting i hope you enjoy!<3

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell.

What's to like about him? He's so full of himself and he doesn't follow the rules. He happens to be your instructor too, your commander. He is trouble. But that doesn't stop you from developing a crush on this cocky commander.

That's what you should've seen in the first place. Not his pleasing smile, amazing hair, and perfect eyes, or his impeccably hot exterior. Maverick is hot. He is damn hot. But the more turning weeks you spend in Top Gun near his presence, the more you notice what a gentleman that he actually is. And that.... made you fall even deeper for someone's out of your league.

The result of your uncontrolled emotion is that you find yourself insanely shy around him. You have no idea you can be that shy. But whenever he's around, you'd feel your heart double beating in times. Perhaps you're so scared that he'd notice, or perhaps you're too afraid to make a fool of yourself in front of him.

"Mayday, mayday, we got fuck me eyes in the area," Dingle, your RIO whispers to you.

"Gosh, Dingle!" You slap his back as he laughs contentedly.

Dingle's the only one who knows about your crush on the instructor. You didn't tell him of course, he figured it out. He said it's obvious since you acted so differently around Maverick.

"The hell are you talking about?" you play dumb and act as if it weren't true.

"Come on, Pep, you're so caught right-handed."

Looking back straight up, Maverick is across the room playing a game of pool with another naval aviator. He bends down, eyes straight and sharp as he aims for the ball to the pocket. Your eyes follow the lengths of his arms. His toned arms... your gaze just involuntarily follows the veins on his arms. Maverick then takes his shot. He hit the nail on the head, he perfectly nailed the shot. Gosh, he even makes playing pool look so hot, he makes everything look so hot.

You shake your head and palm your face. "This is getting worse, Dingle.."

"Just tell him, take your shot, Pepper," Dingle tells you.

You shake your head. The idea of telling him that you have a crush on him always makes your stomach flip. How could you? You couldn't even stare at him right in the eyes for too long.

You take a deep breath and leave a heavy sigh. "What is wrong with me?!" You ramble.

"What's wrong with you?" The voice that you're far too recognized speaks.

You reopen your eyes to find Maverick comes to you and Dingle. You widen your eyes slightly at Dingle, cursing him non-verbally to not warning you that Maverick is coming in your way.

"Something's wrong with you, Pepper? Is everything alright?" Maverick asks with concern in his eyes. He reaches out his hand to hold your arm, showing the emphaty he feels as he practically asks you whether you're okay.

"Uh... excuse me, i need to go to the toilet." Dingle says.

You quickly turn your head to him. Beg with your eyes to not leave you alone with Maverick cause god knows you couldn't comprehend it alone.

"Sir..." Dingle politely nods to Maverick before leaving us be.

Maverick looks back at you, "Uh... I'm–I'm okay, sir."

"Yeah?" Maverick skeptically wonders about your answer. Out of nowhere, an unreadable slight smirk appears on his face. "You don't really sound sure..." he smiles mischievously.

"Uh..." you chuckle awkwardly, looking down at the floor rather than back at his green eyes. "I'm sure,"

You glance back to his face. "Thanks for checking in, though, sir." You smile then eyes away from him again. You already feel your heart thumping.

Maverick purses his lips and nods. "Okay.... okay, if you say so,"

You nod. "Well... do you want to play po—"

"I'm actually-- not really feeling okay. Maybe i had too much beer... could you excuse me, i-imma go back to base." You cut Maverick before he could've finished what he's trying to say.

You stand up from your stool, and stupidly you stumble on your own feet. Maverick's quick to catch you before you fall. You look up to his face. His face stays inches above yours. You have never been this close to him. Feels like your heart is about to beat out of your chest.

"Oohh... careful," he casually says. So casually like it means nothing to him.

You stand up straight to your own feet again. Awkwardly laugh it off. "T-thanks... um, goodnight, sir." You walk hastily out the door.

-------

"Pepper," Maverick calls you out just after you rise from your seat. You've seen this coming, especially after that near hit you did earlier.

"Do you mind staying behind? I'd like a word," he says.

You exchange a look with Dingle. But eventually you wait till the last person is out of the room, leaving you and Maverick behind. You walk up to him. "Sir?" You ask.

Maverick walks around his table and sits on the edge of it, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "What happened?" He asks, his eyebrows knitting together.

You look down from his intense gaze, shaking your head, "I lost control of—"

"No, I'm not asking you that," he interjects. "What. Happened?" He emphasizes the question.

"We talked about what went wrong technically. But what happened? You never step out of your game." Maverick asks solemnly calm. The way he should've been furiously mad kind of making you more nervous.

"I.... i lost focus,"

"You lost focus?" Maverick repeats, eyebrows raising.

"I.... I'm sorry, sir. I-it won't happen again,"

"Lost focus.. you jeopardize your team's safety, your RIO's life."

You look down. Embarrassed by your failure. "I know, sir. My apology."

"You lost focus.." Maverick sighs, "So where was your focus? What's so important that clouded your mind, Lieutenant?"

Beat. You feel like you're pushed to the corner, checkedmate. How can you answer that? That your mind replays the scene of last night when Maverick touches you. When his face stays inches above yours?

"Uh.... um..." you stutter.

Maverick smiles mischievously, "Cat got your tongue, Lieutenant?"

"I-it's nothing, sir."

"Nothing? I don't buy it." Maverick thinly smiles.

Maverick walks towards you slowly. "Eyes on me, Lieutenant." He orders with such authority in his voice yet still sounds soft.

You feel your palm starts sweating, heart racing.

Maverick smirks. "What got your focus..?" He asks as he walks towards you ever so softly. Making the room feels a drop temperature hotter. "Or... rather.. who?".

"I- i- uh...." You feel your lips trembling so you bite on them.

His eyes drop to witness the scene. "You.... what?" He mutter, eyes locked to your lips. That made your knees limp, you feel like you're about to pass out.

He keeps taking a step closer to you till there's no more room, and he's invading your personal space. You could feel the warmth of his breath fanning to your lips. His eyes look deeply into yours, like he's digging onto you. Your chest heaves. And the closeness of him makes you dizzy. "Y/N," his voice calls you back into reality. Maverick softly grazes his fingers over yours.

You couldn't think clearly with him in mere inches away from you. So the next thing out of your mouth just slipped before you caught yourself. "I have a crush on you." You breathlessly confess.

Maverick's smile slowly can not be attained. The way he says nothing and just smiles there sends you into an anxiety loop, so you ramble on stupid things all at once. "I- i know it's stupid. I'll–I'll get over it. I shouldn't have—" Maverick slipped his hand behind the nape of your neck and just shut you up with his lips seal to yours.

It surprises you at first but, you feel your soul leaves your body. You close your eyes and just sink into him.

Once he breaks away the kiss, your mind buzzes from the after impact of it. Reopening your eyes again, you meet the heavenly greens of his eyes and his perfect smile. "I knew," Maverick retorts softly.

"You're not so hard to read, Pepper,"

You chuckle. Feeling your cheek already burning. "This is a dream," you mutter.

Maverick grins. "Well, Y/N, tell me... can your dream feel this?" Maverick presses his lips to yours again. Hand circling around you and bring you closer to him while the other keeps holding the nape of your neck.

With your body completely pressed to his. Hands to each other's body, and tongue starts colliding in a passionate rhythm, you didn't bother to think whether this is real or not. Even if it's a dream, you want it to last because Maverick tastes like a pure ecstasy. The moment he takes a step forward, pushing you back till you find yourself presented against a table. Any moral misgivings have left the room, and both of you are hurrying to have more taste of each other. Maverick grabs your jaw, set your face aside to have access to your neck. He kisses your neck, starts soft, then gradually picks up his pace. He sucks and nibs the sensitive skin, traveling all around, finding your one spot that got you ticking.

"Maverick..." You whimper.

The exit out of this is already too far. None of you both can stop the overdriving temptation. Your fingers grip on his shoulders. The more he sucks and nibs, the more heat you feel in between your legs. You keep pulling him closer as if there's any gap left. You could feel his hard on pressing onto your center, that sends your mind even more rattling than before. You try to hold back your moans but find yourself helplessly to do so.

His hand explores all your body. Groping your breast from outside of your suit. He's moments away from unzipping your flight suit but a distraction come,  and you both hear a dim voice of the Admiral coming.

Quickly, Maverick leaps off you, just in time for Admiral Caine opening the door. Still with ragged breath, you hold onto the ledge of the table for dear life, your mind still buzzing from the pleasure seconds ago.

"Sir," Maverick stands up straight and slightly nods at the admiral. He's so unbothered as if nothing has happened just seconds ago. While you're still.... trying to compose yourself.

Admiral Caine looks at the both of you. Something must've pass his mind because you could see the skeptically in his eyes. But he knock it off and instead calls Maverick for a word.

Maverick glances at you before leaving the room without saying any words. The moment the door slams close, that's when you truly can breathe.

Dreams do always stop whenever it's getting good.

[hey-august]

A Line from Me to You - Chapter 1

Description: Buggy finds a peculiar book on his ship. Enticed by the words contained on each page, the pirate opens up. Anonymity leads to vulnerability. What else will come from this? (Chapter 2, check out the story tag for more chapters) Word count: 1.9k Warnings: This chapter is SFW, but the story will eventually be NSFW. Eventual smut. Some profanity. Buggy x afab!reader. A/N: Time for Buggy wearing reading glasses! 🥰I'm not sure how long this story will end up being, but it will be more than a few chapters.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The book sat there, alone. Waiting. It was tucked under a bench, nestled into a gap that held it just barely out of sight. Just barely, but not entirely.

It was late and most of the ship had gone to sleep. Only those on patrol and a few night owls who were just getting ready to turn in for the night drifted among the moon and dim lighting. Soon, it was just the night guards and the ship’s captain, who had been stuck solving a problem. Untangling equations, adjusting mechanics, weighing chemicals and compounds - experiments that he was devoted to until the right reaction occurred. And even then, the reaction had to be just perfect. It was the nuanced tinkering that pulled him late into the night.

Finally satisfied with the outcome, Buggy headed back to the captain’s quarters. Heavy boot steps filled the air like the ship’s heartbeat. Out of habit, his eyes swept the area to look for anything suspicious or out of place. The timing and lighting aligned just right to let his eyes land on the paper edge that failed at blending into the shadows.

Buggy paused, freezing mid-step. His last breath stayed in his chest. Only his thoughts kept moving as they weighed the pros and cons of ignoring the mystery item.

One of his forgetful crewmembers probably forgot about it and will find it eventually. But what if it wasn’t a book, but a trick or a trap? Or what if it was a book with secrets hidden inside? A way to be rich and powerful or maybe maps? It could also be a diary. As captain of the ship, it wouldn’t be out of bounds for him to know what’s going on with his crew, right? What if they wrote about him? Feedback is good. It’s healthy. And if there was feedback someone wasn’t giving their beloved captain, well, Buggy would want to remedy that over some personal knife throwing sessions. For bonding, of course.

Unfreezing with a sigh, Buggy sent over a hand to grab the book. He squinted in the dim light while flipping through the pages. It wasn’t a diary or journal, but there were scribbles and notations throughout the margins in the beginning of the book. A dog-eared page marked where the handwriting ended.

Flopping the novel shut, Buggy stared at the flimsy cover. A cloaked figure stood at the edge of a shadowed forest, facing a distant castle guarded by a dragon. Was this really so interesting that someone had to fill the pages with even more words? The pirate scrunched his face and shook his head before glancing around and leaving behind the empty area.

A heavy click secured the door to the captain’s quarters, locking him inside and locking out any unwelcome interruptions. Buggy tossed the book onto his unmade bed and headed over to the desk. He poured two fingers of amber liquid into a glass and emptied the contents into his mouth just as quickly. The liquid pricked his tongue with little explosions that grew into a gentle burn, heating his throat and chest. Excess heat was released in a hiss. Buggy’s body reacted to the soothing balm, relaxing as the alcohol coursed through his limbs. 

The tension holding his joints together loosened slightly - not enough for him to break apart, but reverting to an easier and more comfortable hold. Years of relying on his Devil Fruit powers left Buggy overcompensating unconsciously, knitting his muscles tighter to hold himself together.  Kicking his shoulders back, the pirate rolled his head to the gentle pops and cracks of the interior bubbles popping between various joints.

Another heavy pour of alcohol was sloshed into the cup and carried over to the bed. Buggy grabbed the book from the cresting waves of blankets as he climbed onto the mattress. He propped himself up with pillows and studied the novel. The pages were old and slightly yellow and the soft cover was rounded at the edges from being handled many times. Although it was previously loved, the writing looked fresh. Something about this fantasy story was enticing enough to multiple readers.

With narrowing eyes, he flipped open the book to the first page. It had been a while since he read solely for his own curiosity and he found himself rereading the same line more than once. There were hardly any extra snippets on the first few pages and he was already stuck. Buggy pinched the bridge of the nose, his hand carrying the smell of sweet, dusty earth. He groaned and pitched himself forwards, the movement increasing the volume as more air was pushed out. 

Flopped forwards like a rag doll, Buggy blindly grabbed at the table next to his bed and yanked open the drawer with a scratchy wooden creak. He retrieved a felt pouch and sat back up. The reading glasses easily slide out of the fabric holder. Snapping open the silver frames, Buggy settled the glasses in place - round lenses behind his round nose - and went back to the book.

Hours later, the sun crept into the room. It eased itself through the window and along the floor, board by board. Little fingers grabbed at the foot of the bed and hoisted the light higher. The golden glow crawled along the hills and valleys in the bed before reaching a still hand with a pen entwined in the fingers. Then another hand, holding an open book against a chest that rose and fell at a steady pace. The light bounced off an empty glass on the side table. And a trickle of drool from the open, snoring mouth. And the glasses, still sitting on the sleeping face.

The sun danced on the glasses, the little jumps and leaps increasing in tempo until Buggy woke up with a snort. A hand flew up to wave away the sun. Failing to chase away the untouchable foe, he went to block his eyes and collided with the glasses instead. A sharp pain hit the bridge of his nose as the glasses dug into his face.

“For fuck’s sake,” Buggy whined, finally just tilting his face away from the window and out of direct line of the sun’s overexuberant greeting.

The book slid with a soft rustling. Worried that the paper might catch and tear, Buggy snatched it up. The story was better than he expected. Well, enough to keep him engrossed. The pirate wouldn’t say it’s the best story he’s read (which he did more growing up), but it’s not bad. And the extra additions made it better. Comments about what the other reader liked, what they disagreed with, lines that made their emotions sink and soar, characters they envied, questions about backstories and motives. 

There was a lot of commentary, and yet Buggy found himself adding his own. Hurried scratches about his own opinions (which were better), answers to questions left by the other reader because they obviously didn’t pay attention, his own musings and challenges to the author, and, surprisingly, pieces that Buggy felt connected to.

It wasn’t long before he found himself cramming a trail of consciousness and even anecdotes into the empty spaces in the novel. And when he did run out of room, he shoved scraps of paper to contain the overflow of ink. Plus one extra piece of paper to serve as a bookmark. He read past the dog-eared page and, honestly, only an absolute barbarian would crease a book like that.

But now what? The end of the story called to Buggy, curling a finger to invite him to see the journey to the end. The few chapters left him in the first act, ending just as the upswing prepared to launch into the main plot. The pirate wasn’t sure how long it’d take him to finish the story, plus there wasn’t a guarantee that he would be able to. At least, not fast enough to return the book before the owner forgot about it. Honesty that he anonymously left in the book was still housed in his chest, reminding him that most of the enjoyment came from reading someone else’s thoughts. Traveling the journey with a partner.

Wanting to let the answer settle before he acted, Buggy tucked away his glasses and the book into the bedside drawer. He stretched out under the covers and let the exhaustion that had been waiting patiently crawl into bed with him. As captain, he could afford to sleep in, or at least until someone felt enough pressure to risk being scolded for waking him early.

---

You were beginning to lose hope. Two days had passed and you still hadn’t been able to find the novel you misplaced. Lost. At this point, it was probably lost. Stolen by someone who chose to keep it, or even stolen by the sea herself. Ignoring the weight of acceptance settling in your chest, you decided to look one final time. You waited until nightfall, so you wouldn’t have to explain what you were looking for. 

There wasn’t any shame in reading, you just weren’t in the mood to kick off a scavenger hunt that the crew would turn into a whole event. Thinking about how you’d have to explain what the book looked like, where it could be, when you last saw it, multiple times, as well as checking anything that remotely looked like a book planted a small headache in your skull. Not to mention, a ship-wide quest would cause a ruckus that the captain might not approve of. It was just a book, after all. If you couldn’t locate it, then maybe this was meant to be.

Having extracted, inspected, shaken, tossed, and flipped all of your personal belongings, you moved onto retracing your steps. Anywhere you may have carried the book would be revisited and examined until the last flame of hope went out. Nothing in the kitchen. Definitely not near the laundry bins. You didn’t bring it to the bathroom, but you checked just in case. Nope. Not in the crow’s nest. Nor in the storage room you reorganized. Not near the crates you unpacked. Or the ropes you mended. Your book wasn’t with any of the circus accessories. Or costumes. It wasn’t on any shelves or tucked in corners. You couldn’t find it in places where it may have fallen.

Just as your chest filled with smoke from a dying ember, you remembered a small cranny you found recently. It was the perfect size to hold the novel, which you tucked away while you tended to other duties. Crouching alongside different benches, you dragged your hand along the legs. Your fingers danced along the carved wood and skated past empty nooks, until there was a blocker. A ruffled corner caught your fingertips, nearly holding onto the touch and begging for more. 

Sliding it out, you were relieved to see the enigmatic cloaked figure on the cover. You gripped the paperback book tightly in both hands and shook it with excitement. You didn’t notice the tufts of paper sticking out of the even edges until you were curled up under your loose blanket.

Skipping to paper that ventured furthest into the forest of paper, you flipped the book open to the end of a chapter you hadn’t reached. You frowned at the unfamiliar scrawls filling the margins. Looking ahead to sections deeper in the story, you were faced with blank spaces. This was a secondhand book, but no one else had written in it before you. Returning to the bookmarked section, a note written with a heavy hand sat in a messy circle. 

“Can I read this after you finish? Just put it back in the same spot. I’ll find it.”

[mysicklove]

𝐀 𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇

Pairing: Sub! Vamp! Tanjiro x Dom! AFAB! Human! Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: NSFW MDNI, Pegging, heavy mommy/mama kink, LOTS OF BLOOD, blood drunk?, biting, riding, hand job, petting

A/N: Happy Birthday @vampcubus!!! I wrote this specifically for you bc I know you love ur vampires <3. Also, want to thank your amazing gf @renhoeku for encouraging me to make u this fic for ur birthday! You two are adorable. (also halfway into writing this I realized u may like vamp! reader more....but too late lol)

To be honest, dating a vampire was easier than one could imagine. Sure, he may be ten times stronger than you, and could kill you in a millisecond, but this was Tanjiro we are talking about, he tears up when he accidentally kills a fly. He was by far the gentlest person you have ever met, and it made it incredibly easy to fall for him.

Before he met you and early on in your relationship, he used to starve himself. Feeding once a week from stolen blood donation bags. It always made him feel horrible, but it was better than feeding off of an innocent. But still, with every gulp of the old room-temperature blood, he wondered what it would be like to drink straight from the source. The thought always made him shiver in delight, and he would have to force his thoughts away from it or else something could go seriously wrong.

But the thoughts seem to never leave his mind when he met you. He disguised himself for about three months into your relationship with much struggle. The scent of your blood drove him mad with need and the trips to the hospital grew more frequent. It was so unbelievably hard to take back the blood bags with you around. His fangs would protract whenever he got too excited, or when a drop of your blood spills.

He wanted it so desperately, and as he began to fall in love with you the need seemed to grow more and more. The staring of your neck would increase, and sometimes he caught himself salivating while running his fingers on the skin above your veins. He just wanted a drop of your blood, that’s all he needs and he won’t complain anymore. Just one drop.

It wasn't very hard to find out about his little secret. Day one, you met him you knew he was hiding something big, but couldn't put your finger on it. Slowly you've been studying him. The way he reacts to sunlight, not afraid necessarily, but obviously wary of it. He also is supposedly horrified of blood, but that doesn't explain why his face turns red, and you swear he had eyed you so strangely when you got a paper cut. And if he was so afraid of blood, why was he at blood drives so often?

You had your suspicions of him being a vampire, but he confirmed it without the use of words.

You found out his secret when you woke in the middle of the night to find him grinding on your leg, while his fangs lightly grazed the skin on your neck. He was obviously still half asleep, his eyes cloudy and half lidded. He was whining into your skin, and it was obvious that he wanted to latch down on your neck, but he was holding back.

When he saw that you caught him, he snaps awake and he seems to throw himself backward and away from you. His eyes widen with fear and he covers his mouth in an instant. He stares, panicked, in silence.

You blink at him in the dark. This confirmed it. “I-I knew I was right. You're a vampire. You have to be.”

He lets out a startled noise when you flick on your bedside light. His hands haven't moved from his mouth, but his eyes seem to dart around trying to think of an explanation on his strangely sharp teeth. 

But the poor boy does not know how to lie. “Whatttt? No. Vampires? Th-Those aren't real!” The words are tight, and his body is stiff. 

You raise your eyebrows. “Let me see your mouth.”

His eyes widen, and he scoots backward on the bed. “Just give me a second!” 

“Now, Tanjiro.” You shoot him a glare, and he flinches. You sigh feeling slightly guilty from your tone. You were just a little shaken that your theory was possibly true. “I won’t be mad, upset, or scared. Just trust me. I just want to see them.”

He gulps and stares for a long second, clenching his fists on the sheets. He's nervous, it’s obvious. “Do you promise that you won't be scared?”

You smile at him, your eyes softening at his words. “It won't change anything, my love.”

He nods and slowly brings his hands down. A small gasp leaves your lips before you can stop it, and he slightly frowns. Hanging out of his mouth, and gently gnawing into his lower lip were needle sharp fangs. 

He was pouting at you, afraid of your reaction, and continues to accidentally peirce his lip out of nerves. Small amounts of his own blood were coating his lip. In all honesty, he looked adorable.

But he was unintentionally hurting himself. You rush over to him and his eyes widen, but before he could protest, you lightly pull on his bottom lip. “Let it go. You are hurting yourself.”

He blinks at you, confused, but obeys and relaxes his jaw. His fangs now hang slightly in front of the pink flesh. “It's okay. I will heal.”

You nod at him, knowing this from your previous studies. “You really are one. A vampire.”

He looks away. “Yes I am. I'm sorry for lying to you.”

“Its alright. But Tanjiro,” You coax, and he glances at you, the slight pout still there. “The fangs are so cute.”

His eyes widen, and his face heats up. You watch the way he tries to hold back a smile from the praise. “Don't joke about that! They are deadly. I almost killed you!”

You smirk at him, leaning in closer to invade his personal space. He reacts immediately, not daring to make eye contact with you. “You wouldn't hurt a fly. You just want some blood right? You are hungry?” You pull your shirt down to expose more of your neck.

His eyes noticeably light up, and he gulps. He continues to stare at the spot on your neck, and his mouth slightly hangs open. His undergarments also seem to tighten at the prospect. The thought turned him on to an embarrassing amount.

When you catch the tent in his pants you giggle, and he immediately snaps out of the trance. He looks away with a red face and grips at the sheets. “No. I can't do that to you. I can't hurt you. I can wait till tomorrow to eat.”

It’s your turn to pout, throwing out the big guns. “Please? For mommy? I want you to be comfortable baby.” 

He melts at the title and looks back at the strap on the nightstand. The two of you were only going at it three hours ago, it’s probably why he was so hungry. He lost so much energy from the multiple rounds. 

“B-But…”

You scoot forward and rub your hand on his thigh. He shivers and grabs onto your hand for comfort. “Shhh, it will be fine. Should I get the strap? Maybe that will ease your worries.”

He wordlessly grabs the toy, and harness from the table and hands it to you. You pet his head with a smile and begin to attach it. 

He removes his clothes and lays back on the pillows next to you, waiting for you to get ready. “I don't know if I will feed. I'm nervous I might hurt you.” 

The idea sounds so perfect to him, but he is smart enough to not risk something like this.

You nod and position yourself above him, moving your hips to find his. He was already prepped considering earlier events.

You kiss his cheek and his ears turn red. “It's okay baby. You do what you want, yeah? Just going to make you feel good.”

The boy nods and covers his eyes with the back of his hands. “Mmkay…Mommy.”

You line up the tip, and slowly begin to press it in. He keens and grips onto you, slightly turning away so he isnt face to face with your neck. He really couldn't handle not sinking his teeth in if he was right next to it.

When you bottom out he lets out a breathless moan, and slightly arches his back. You pause to wait for him to get adjusted, and litter his red face with kisses. “Such a good boy. Taking it all, hmm?

He is visibly affected by the praise, nodding his head helplessly and pushing his hips back to try to signal you to move. You smile at this and begin your thrusting. 

Today he seemed to slip into the subspace quicker than usual. You didn't mind, but it slightly confused you. Was it because the two of you already had previously fucked, or was it because he was hungry?

You secretly hoped it was the latter. The thought of how he would look with some blood in his system made u shiver in delight.

Not even ten minutes in, he begins his withering and clinging. “Doing so good for me. Does it feel good, baby?” You coo, while his fingers begin to leave scratch marks down your back.

“Mhm…Feels good, m-mommy. Harder please!” You chuckle at the plea and do as he says. His eyes roll back and his mouth hangs open, his fangs now completely exposed. He didn't seem to give a damn about retracting them. It must be a relief, he can completely get immersed in the experience without having to think about exposing himself to you. It further egged you on.

You lean your head forward and onto the pillow next to him. It was a tease, your neck exposed right in front of him, and both of you knew it. He has been trying to stay away from your neck, but you know he wants it desperately. The way he is literally salivating at the sight gives you more reason to spurr him on. He was too selfless. “N-No, cant!”

You pet his hair, “C’mon, I don’t mind. I know you want to, Tan.” 

He moans at the words, his hands desperately pulling you closer. “But–I don’t wanna hurt you!” He cries, and you lick a stripe up his own neck to try to distract him from the ridiculous thought. 

Drool is pooling at the corners of his lips, and his tongue roams over his fangs. He’s staring at your neck, eyes hazy with need.

“I know you won’t. Don’t feel bad, want you to eat. Please, for me?” He goes eerily quiet for the first time tonight, and you thought you took it too far. But a couple of seconds later, he whimpers with a small nod and shakily brings his lips up to your neck. He kisses and licks it at first, his mind going woozy at the smell of your blood. He looks at you one last time, and when you nod at him, he buries his teeth into your neck. 

You cringe and bite back a whine, and Tanjiro moans into your neck. The sound was muffled but loud, almost desperate sounding. He flips the two of you over in a heartbeat with inhumane strength, now grinding on the strap while ravaging your neck. The sounds he lets are strange, almost animalistic sounding. A mix of whines groans, and whimpers vibrate on your skin.

“H-Hey, let’s get into a better position, sweetheart,” You say, the slight euphoria making your head dizzy. When he doesn’t move, you grip his hair and try to pull him back. He doesn’t budge, but he whines out at the interruption.

“N-No! Please, ‘s good, so good, please please please, mommy!” He begs into your neck, lapping at the dripping blood like a starved dog. It was endearing to see him like this. He was usually pretty composed, you have never seen him look so desperate. It was like he was waiting for this moment.

“Shh, I know. You can have more, let’s just get comfortable,” You reason and he nods into your neck, before hesitantly pulling away. His face is covered in blood, and his eyes are cloudy and unfocused. He licks at his lips and over his fangs, and to distract himself from latching back on to you, he focuses down on the strap, gripping at your hips and riding it more desperately than you’ve seen before.

You are quick to move but he is louder, already whining for your neck again. You swiftly put pillows behind you, and position yourself against the headboard, in a seated position with him on your lap. You grab at his hips and use the other to guide his head back to your neck. “There we go. All better now. Not too much, okay pretty?”

“Mhmkay,” He mumbles, still hazy-eyed and whiny. He latches onto the same spot again, and your eyes screw shut. You instead focus on his hips, helping him grind on the strap. His feet plant on the bed, and he uses them to help give him leverage to begin his own rapid movement on the toy. 

You gently rub at his hair, petting him while he makes an abundance of adorable noises from both the force of the strap and the taste of you. “Wanted this so badly. Taste so good. Love it s-so much,” The vampire mumbles into your neck, kissing and suckling the skin around the source.

You smile, even if your vision slightly begins to blur from the loss of blood. Instead, you begin to focus on the way his thighs begin to tremble as he starts to bounce up on the toy.  You grin, and he wraps his hands around your shoulders and neck, helping his movements become more intense. The toy seems to disappear within him at every bounce. 

He's gotten to be a pro at riding. You remember how in the beginning he used to be so embarrassed, clinging onto you and waiting for you to thrust upward and into him. But now, he seems to be in his own world, lost in his pleasure completely to be embarrassed. The strange drunkenness from the blood certainly is helping him move quicker. 

He begins to chant, “More. More. More.” into your neck with each passing second. Almost as if he was afraid that the supply would stop soon. You feel the heat of his breath on your neck, and you shiver.

After a couple more minutes, he willingly pulls away for the first time tonight. He stares at you, tongue hanging out to lick at the blood coated skin beneath him. His eyes are hazy, and seem to have little thoughts behind them. “May I cum mommy?” 

You grab onto his untouched cock, and gently move your hands up and down the shaft. His head falls forward and onto your shoulder, where he tilts his head to stare at the bite marks. “So polite Tanjiro. Such a good boy for mommy, of course you can.”

His face heats up at the praise, and he shivers, but his eyes are locked on the fang marks on your neck. He wants more, but he can tell you are growing weak. It made him feel guilty how starved he seemed to be.

It wasn't his fault that your blood was better than anything he has had before. He has been dreaming about this moment for weeks now, and now that it was finally here in front of him, it was so hard to hold back. 

You were making him feel so good, you didn't deserve to be overworked. But oh so desperately does he want to cum with his fangs in his neck. It would be so much better, so much more intense, he just knows it.

His eyes haven't left the spot on your neck, and it's gotten so bad that he has begun to drool again. The saliva of course is tainted with blood, so it slides quickly down his chin and onto his lap, staining his thighs red.

You can feel his gaze on your neck, and the way he slightly twitches. His movements don't seem to slow, but it’s obvious that he is having a hard time trying to fight his impulses.  “You want more baby?” 

 His eyes screw shut and he shakes his head frantically, his bottom lip back in his mouth. “It’s okay! C-Can cum with–ahh–Out it!”

You grip at his hips, slightly smiling. “I know love, but you want to, right?”

Tears are now mixing with the drool and his head is spinning. He grips on to your hand like a lifeline, and continues to shake his head. “No. No. I don't–stop encouraging it mommy!”

He's looking out for you, but at the moment you don’t care. You want him to feel the best that he can so that he is more comfortable with feeding later. So, you ignore his request, and just like before you tug his hair forward.

His stained, wet lips come into contact with your neck and he moans at the scent. Your hands continue faster on his cock and he shivers. The drooling is getting worse, and he's beginning to make strange whimpering sounds as he tries to hold back. “Drink Tanjiro. I'm fine, really.” 

He can't help it anymore. The voice of the rational side of himself is getting quieter and quieter every second he smells the blood. And now with your words? He bites into the flesh again and groans at the feeling of the warm liquid that seeps into his mouth.

He's licking and sucking at the flesh desperately, and honestly, it was strange to see your usual boyfriend so…feral. But of course, it was still him. His words proved through and through that he wasn’t really gone. “Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. I'm cumming. I'm sorry mommy!”

You slightly frown at the apologies, but instead focus on his orgasm, thrusting slightly upward, causing his eyes to roll back and tears to continue cascading down his face. His body tightens and he grips your neck possessively. A broken cry is released, and you feel his fangs drag upon your skin, only to let out a silent scream. The white liquid coats the both of your stomachs, and you play with his hair to help coax him through the high.

When he begins to relax, he isn't desperately pawing at your neck, but instead gently licking it to get the remaining drops, and hopefully helping you heal. When he pulls away to rest on your lap, your vision slightly blurs. “How are you feeling Tan?”

He grabs at your palm and nuzzles his face in it, the bottom half of his face stained red, but you’ve never seen him look so content. He seems to melt into your touch, glowing because he was now fed and had his orgasm. “Sooo good. Thank you so much. It tasted–” His half-lidded, lost eyes, fly open and he drops your hand. “Wait. How are you doing? Oh no, I drank too much. We need to get you some food!”

You lean forward to kiss him on his cheek and he touches it with a slight blush. “I'm fine. Just dizzy, and tired. I’m sorry love, I don’t think I can clean you up.”

He shakes his head, and scrambles off your lap, shivering when he feels the strap slide out. When he stands up to grab a wet rag you take notice of his shaking legs. It made you feel slightly bad, he was probably exhausted, but you couldn’t do much. You were equally if not more exhausted than he was.

When he catches your gaze, he smiles knowingly and leans down, and presses a kiss to your lips. “It’s fine mama, I’m okay. Go rest. I will take care of everything.”

But your eyes shut before he could finish his statement.

The next morning, you awake to find yourself dressed in your usual sleep attire, a bandage on your neck, and Tanjiro nowhere to be found. You frown at this, knowing he was probably still sore and tired. 

But as on cue, he walks in with a plate of food. Meats, beans, and spinach. You raise your eyebrows at him. “They are rich with iron. Eating this will help you feel better from the loss of blood.”

The pounding of your head was gone, and you weren't dizzy at all. He was overreacting, worried over nothing, but that was who he is. But denying him would only make him worry more, so you take the plate and begin eating.

He sits next to you, kneeling while watching you eat. He looks determined to make sure you finish it. It was cute, really. “I'm sorry for last night. I went too far.”

You glance back at him. “It's okay. No, you didn't. Other than a small headache, I was completely fine.”

He lowers his eyes, and you see his cheeks begin to turn pink. “N-Next time I won’t–”

“Next time?”

He clutches at the sheets and peers over to you, his whole face now red. “Oh. We don't have to–It’s just it felt—It’s okay. Yeah, you're right–”

You throw a bean at him, and his nose scrunches. You laugh at him. “I'm teasing you. I don't mind having you feed off me. In a sexual or nonsexual way.”

His eyes seem to light up at the statement and he nods his head frantically, unconsciously leaning closer to you. “I would love that! I promise to be more composed next time and I definitely won’t drink as much!”

You fake pout at him. “Awh, but I thought your bloody and drool-covered face was quite cute.”

His face heats up, and he grabs onto your hand with a small whine of embarrassment. 

You see the tips of his fangs peek out of his lip, obviously too distracted by your teasing words to retract them. It made you grin, and wonder how you managed to find someone like him.

Because who knew a vampire could be this cute?

[tainted-liquor]

'You love me'✧˖°

Arachkids x Reader! TWs: I don't think there are any Ingredients: Sugar, kisses, and a lil bit of smiles ! W/C: 1080 A/N: Sorry if Gwen is a lil ooc, I really don't write for her that much lol. FIRST REQUESTTTT EUUUGHH!! /pos

Miles Morales

You watched as your boyfriend paced around his room, occasionally walking up the wall as he ranted about some sort of 'Villain-of-the-week", laying flat on your stomach on top of his bed as he hung upside down from his roof. You chuckled to yourself as an Idea manifested in your head, raising yourself up slightly. "Hey, Miles."

"Huh-...Yeah? You need something, love?" He snapped out of his trance and turned to face you as he dangled from the ceiling. You inched closer to him, analyzing his confused expression as you cupped the sides of his face within your hands, pressing a gentle and loving kiss to his lips at a slightly awkward angle. He may have been there physically in front of you, but as soon as he felt your soft lips on his he was gone. He quickly returned the kiss, gently cupping your face in the same manner that you had cupped his.

When you pulled back, Miles gave a small frown before quickly fixing his expression. He already felt himself missing your touch, quickly pulling you back in before you could even think.

"What was that for?"

"Cuz I love you, Miles."

Hobie Brown

Now Hobie was a slightly different case. He more than likely preferred having two feet firmly planted on the ground, and was more than likely not home. Being Spider-Man and an infamous music artist took up most of his time, so there were some days when he really just...not home. So here you were in the middle of the night, bundled up in his bedsheets half asleep and missing your beloved boyfriend. You heard the front door to his canal boat open as you heard his familiar East London dialect muffle itself at the front door

"I'll see you guys later. Gonna check on the missus."

You heard him shut the door as quietly as the door would allow him, his heavy boots thudding against the hardwood floors. The bedroom door creaked open as I slowly rose up from my comfortable position on my side. His eyes widened a fraction when he saw that I was partially asleep, wasting absolutely 0 time in apologizing for waking me up. "Sorry, lovey. Didn't mean to wake ya." He beamed as he looked down at me from the side of his bed.

"You didn't bee...don't worry" you sighed while simultaneously leaning upwards towards the punk. "Can you do me a favor though? Pleaaaase~?"

"Yeah love whatever you-...No." Hobie immediately knew what you were talking about as soon as he saw your eyes gravitate toward the ceiling. Despite being the Spider-Man of his world, he was very afraid of hanging upside down for longer periods. He said it felt 'suffocating and made him dizzy.'

"C'mon, I haven't seen you in two days I wanna kiss my man." You pouted, turning away from him and crossing your arms against your chest. Hobie let out a long sigh before walking up the wall and standing perfectly still on his ceiling. "There. Happy?" He grinned as he placed both hands over his hips.

"Very." you smiled as you eagerly smashed his lips into yours, attempting to hold the kiss as long as possible due to the possibility of it never happening again.

Pavitr Prabhakar

Your boyfriend, Pavitr is Spider-Man. Now of course he didn't tell you just yet, but everyone in Mumbattan knew. The hair, the clothes, the horrible faux deep voice, it was completely obvious to everyone but him. Not that you minded though, if anything you found his cluelessness cute. So when you sat on the ledge of a rather tall building fidgeting with your phone, In came your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man from above.

"Hey Mer-" He cleared his throat quickly, forcing his voice down an octave before carefully selecting his next few words. "Hey, you really shouldn't be sitting this close to the ledge! I think you might want to move back juuuust a smidge!" he reasoned, the white-painted eyes in his mask narrowing shut, indicating that loving smile you'd see every time he was out of his mask. You scooted back on the ledge slightly, looking up at the slowly spinning spider as he dangled from an even higher ledge. You fought back giggles at his slight hypocrisy, before answering with a small

"Why thank you, Spider-Man! What would I do without you here to protect me!" You joked with a barely concealed chuckle. You reached out towards him, gently taking his upside-down face into your hands. Pav didn't mean to lean into your touch so easily, it was just so hard to keep up the façade of not knowing you. It became clear at that moment that you knew who resided under the mask when you pulled the soft fabric up over his nose, pressing a small kiss to his lips before pulling back with your usual smile. His face grew slightly pink as he watched you walk back into your building, giving him a small wave and mouthing "Bye Pav!"

Gwen Stacy

It was a relatively warm morning as you went for your daily walk on the streets of Brooklyn. Around this time your girlfriend would normally be on patrol, on the lookout for any crime or anomalies. So instead of dwelling on her abscence, you made your way to the nearby abandoned bridge. You made the space as comfortable as possible, kicking away any debris or stones before sitting on the ground and scrolling through social media on your phone. You heard a small thwip noise above you, looking up to see your girlfriend standing en pointe with her arms crossed on the side of the bridge above.

"Hey Gwennie!" You called as she walked down the pillar of the bridge, bringing herself closer to you so you didn't have to shout. "Hey!" She said as she pulled off her mask to reveal that beautiful smile of hers. "What are you doing all the way over here? Shouldn't you be on your walk?" She asked with a tilt of her head.

"Yeah, normally. Just wanted a change in scenery" you shrugged as you stood up, craning your neck to look up at the sideways spider. You beckoned her closer, giving a short and simple kiss as she looked at you with blown pupils and the most furious blush you've ever seen. You watched as she slung her mask back on, covering her face with her hands and webbed away. She was so adorable

[thatwritterbeach]

one messed up bat .5

dc masterlist

batfam x reader x Jason todd

summary: the batboys keep messing up when trying to help y/n

Warnings: mentions of sa, self harm, self hate, suggestive language, angst, Bruce is a POS, talk of murdering the joker, vomit

A/N: I do not not own dc boohoo.

About ten hours later they all hissed at Alfred turning the lights on and rolled over to avoid being blinded. Dick and Tim had ended up on the floor snuggled under the same Queen sized blanket. Jason was curled into an impressive ball for his size in the recliner next to her and Damian was still snuggled in her lap his ear right over her heart.

"Ah, fuck I'm too old for this shit," Dick hissed trying to stretch out his stiff joints.

"You're tellin' me," Tim agreed, the lack of caffeine for so long making his head hurt.

"Tt, you should have slept on the couch or in your chairs," Damian chided not even opening his eyes.

"Ah fuck," Jason mimicked Dick when he tried to stand and every joint cracked loud enough they could have been under fire. "Damn being dead is bad for the joints."

"There's breakfast in the kitchen when you youngens can move," Alfred said with a small smile, his own joints perfect. (the old bastard)

"I may never move again," Dick said into the blanket.

"I thought you were limber, yoga boy," Y/n teased easing Damian off her lap and standing to her own joints cracking.

"how long do you think we'll live, I mean before our bodies can't hold themselves together anymore," Tim asked rolling over onto his hands and knees to try and stand up.

"You say such nice things," y/n said holding out a hand to help him up. He clasped her hand and braced to move but before she could register what he was doing he'd pulled her down onto the floor with him making sure she landed on him so she didn't get hurt then Dick was grabbing her and making her into a blanket burrito. In a very brotherly way so get your mind out of the gutter Dick wrapped his arms and legs around her and cuddled into her neck making loud fake snoring notices.

"Release me," she demanded with a wiggle but her arms were pinned to her side. "Damian help." He looked at 'Grayson' in disgust but shrugged at her and left the room.

"Traitor," she yelled after him. "Jason," she said hopefully, batting her eyelashes and pouting.

"Sorry I need at least another few hours, you're staying," Tim said clinging to her other side.

"You know if you guys had done this before-"

"I know, I'm sorry we didn't make you feel wanted."

She sighed but didn't say anything just absorbed the comfort they were providing. Jason sat on the floor at her feet and rubbed a hand over what he thought was her ankle under the blanket.

"Food's getting cold," he said.

"I have to pee," she wiggled again and they released her with matching sighs.

"Same."

And just like that they left her alone. Not even 24 hours. She smirked to herself as she walked down the hall. Pausing to stick her tongue out at a photo of Bruce's parents. There were no cameras where she was of course.

Your kid turned into a real pos. With stupid rules that ban me from killing Jason's killer, my rapist and the man who crippled Babs.

With a final eye roll she hurried to the bathroom, just in case anyone remembered they were supposed to be watching her. She did her business, cleaned and re-bandaged her cuts. The lighter she kept in her pocket at all times, that nobody had bothered to search, felt heavy and she stuck a hand in to run her thumb over the striker wheel.

Maybe just once more.

"Knock knock," Jason said though the hard wood.

Nope not right now.

"I'm coming, just a sec," she said back with ease. He pulled her to him the second she opened the door. The hug was bruising and if she hadn't been paying attention she wouldn't have noticed he was patting her down. His hand went into her pocket and she let him pull out the lighter.

"You're getting sloppy," she commented.

"Wasn't trying to be sneaky."

"Excuses excuses."

"Are we gonna talk about it?"

"Bout what?"

"You know what."

"Oh! My undying love of you. Yeah I was thinking we could talk....never?" He tightened his grip and kissed the top of her head.

"I'm not good for you," he whispered.

"I'm not good for me, you've seen my skin."

"Bruce is gonna kill me," he muttered before grabbing her face in both hands and tilting her head up to place the softest on her lips.

"I take it you return my feelings?"

"Nah, just felt like kissing my adopted sister cuz I'ma creep."

"Coulda' fooled me," she said pulling him back in for another kiss while one of her hands stole his lighter.

"You wanna tell people yet?"

"That we've kissed before our first date, nope." He placed a kiss on her nose and picked her up to toss her over his shoulder, waited a beat then tapped her lightly on the ass.

"I ain't inta' that bro." To which he smacked her as a bit harder, so she did the same and he froze.

"Maybe I am, sis." Her eyes widened in shock and mild horror but she couldn't dwell on it because he started moving again.

"She put up a fight," Dick asked when they entered the kitchen.

"Nope, she just walks too damn slow."

"Language," Bruce scolded over his coffee.

"Fuck off, you don't get to say jack shit about jack shit until we fix your mistakes-"

"Killing is wrong-"

"It's not wrong when the piece of shit had raped three of your adopted kids!" (in batman death in the family interactive movie and a few other medias it is hinted/or outright said that Jason and Babs were assaulted by joker)

"Jason," Y/n said small and sad from her spot still over his shoulder.

"It's fine, I'm fine. But Babs and you..." He couldn't finish, didn't wanna drag up anymore old than he already had but it was too late he'd opened that can of worms.

"I didn't know," Bruce said standing to move towards Jason.

"You didn't ask. I was with that psycho for a year and you didn't ask." (yes I know that is the Arkham version let me fill my story with angst.) Jason moved away before Bruce could reach him and set y/n down on the counter to wrap his arms around her.

"Little wing," Dick practically cooed in pity.

"I'm fine," he growled into her shoulder. She combed her fingers through his hair and gave everyone a back off look. But Dick took it literally, leaving the room with speed. What the batfam need not know is that he ran off to puke his guts out from guilt. His little wing had called and asked for help and Dick hadn't been there, he didn't know even a fraction of what Joker had done to him and he never asked. What kind of big brother didn't ask about what their baby bro went through. A shit one, Dick's mind supplied oh so helpfully.

"what do you need from us," Tim asked, trying to make a plan. He didn't know what to do with his damaged siblings and it was making him nervous. He downed half a mug of coffee while he waited on answer.

"I don't need nothin' just for everyone to be there for y/n."

"Jason," Damian said. All eyes turned to him, he hadn't said Todd, or any form of cruel nickname.

"Yeah, kid?"

"I'm glad you're alive. I'm sorry you were hurt." Damian looked like he might be moving in for at least a pat on the back so y/n shoved Jason off to meet him halfway. What ensued had everyone's jaws on the floor. Jason holding Damian in a bear hug, his little legs dangling off the ground, and Damian hugging his back. Nobody said anything out of fear they'd break the spell.

"Release me," Damian finally commanded. Jason instead set him down next to y/n on the counter who attacked him in side hug.

"Dick's gonna be pissed he missed the bro moment. The broment," Tim laughed practically running to steal his own hug from Jason while the guy was in the mood. Bruce stood to the side hoping but not expecting. He wasn't surprised when Jason ignored him in favor of hugging Alfred.

"What'd I miss," Dick complained from the doorway.

"Well, Jason and Damian hugged, then I got one, then Alfred."

"What about me?"

"Come here. Then nobodies gettin' anymore 'm done."

"Yay," Dick whisper shouted flinging himself at his younger but larger brother. They hugged for longer than Dick was expecting and he was enjoying hugging his family so when Jay started to move Dick held on tighter.

"We're gonna be livin' in the same house dude."

"You just said no more hugs, I'm savoring."

Finally Jason wiggled away and quickly moved back to y/n propping himself on the counter right next to her legs his arm resting over her knee and hand holding her calf to stroke his thumb over the skin.

"No,' Bruce said from back at the table where he'd moved during the hugging.

"No what father?"

"No that," he said pointing at Jason's hands on her.

"Too bad," y/n said raising a brow and begging him to fight her on it, she'd flash them her scars, after covering Damian's eyes of course.

"Are you guys a that," Dick asked disapprovingly making a mental note to pound Jason into the sparing mats later.

"I think it's great," Tim said, having been the one to push them together of course he had some bias.

"Tt, I think it's ridiculous."

"Noted. Don't you want me happy?"

"Of course, beloved, I just don't see how Todd can make that happen," he practically chuffed, back to his usual self, though there was less bite to his words.

Bruce watched his kids interact with envy, but he knew he'd made too many mistakes to expect open arms. Y/n was sneaking glances of him, the people pleaser in her aching to fix his frown, but he'd gone too far. Maybe at some point they would mend but she couldn't forgive him. Bringing up the mission when he found out about her self harming. Saying no to Killing after knowing what Joker's done to his children. She wanted to punch him, and with a sick satisfied feeling she realized everyone in this room would do just that if she asked. Bruce would punch himself, Alfred would take off his gloves and KO, Dick would break his nose without remorse, Jason...well we all know what he would do, Tim would kick him in the jewels, Damian would insult him while destroying his shins.

They all ate without much talk until Dick joined the trauma dumping.

"I was assaulted too. Twice," he said so casually they all just blinked at him for a moment.

"That's it, Tim, Damian, you aren't allowed out of the house. Nobody is leaving my direct sight ever again."

"Who," Jason asked, ignoring Bruce.

"It was a while ago, ones in jail the other doesn't matter. Just wanted to show I..relate, I'm here if you wanna talk. Not that what was done..I mean-it wasn't the Joker so-"

"Dick, don't..don't make what happened to you less than just because it wasn't a psycho," y/n said firmly.

"Anyone else," Jason said looking at Tim and Damian. they both shook their heads.

______

"You wanna go out for coffee," Jason asked around lunch time.

"Sure, as a date?"

"How about a pre-date."

"What's a pre-date?"

"well, I want our first date to be special, I need time to plan so this will be a teaser-"

"Oh my God," she cut him off her brain suddenly realizing something.

"What?"

The joker took both of their virginity, at least she assumes since Jay was 14 when he died. Joker was both of their first times.

"Yes, to the date but I gotta," she managed to get out before she took off at a sprint to the bathroom. He matched her speed and got there in time to hold her hair back.

"You hardly ate anything."

"Wasn't...wasn't thefoo," she said between gags.

"You were supposed to be watching her," Dick hissed from the other side of the door.

"M not doin' it on purpose." Dick opened the door with his eyes closed not a fan of puke. (not cannon just think after seeing so much crap it would be funny to have a fear of something normal)

"What happened?"

"I just," she paused to look at Jason," I don't wanna upset you..."

"You won't sweets, just tell me what's wrong so we can fix it."

"I mean, you died so young I always assumed, I mean I just figured," she interrupted herself by grabbing a new toothbrush that they kept in all the bathrooms, and brushed the taste out of her mouth.

"You wanna know if the joker. if I was a virgin before..."

She nodded before rinsing her mouth.

"My brain just decided it would be a great idea to tell me that if you were, then we both, I mean...he took-" she cut herself off again with a shake of her head. Dick who'd finally opened his eyes was near tears at the realization and he suddenly understood her illness.

"Oh, sweets," Jason cooed pulling her into a hug, like it wasn't his own trauma as well.

"I'm fine now, I-sorry, my brain just liked to torment me sometimes."

"Maybe you should tell your brain to fuck off," Dick said with a watery laugh joining in on the hug. He'd dealt with his assault, maybe not in a healthy way, but better than the way she had dealt. He wasn't fully back, or ok, more 70%, but he was functioning. No more nightmares, no more freaking out when someone got close to him, or touched him without warning.

"I think we need a vacation," she declared from her cocoon of heroes.

"I think you're right."

________

"This is not what I meant," y/n said with mild disgust at the giant blanket fort the boys had built in the theater room.

"Why not it'll be fun, we can stay up late and braid Dick's hair," Tim said gleefully, setting up a queue (or is it cue?) of easy to follow action movies.

"I agree with beloved," Damian said from inside the fort, though he made no move to leave.

"Alfred gonna make pizza and bring it in to watch a movie with us and Bruce is banished from this room until further notice," Jason said.

"When I said vacation I meant go kill Joker then hit the Alps for some skiing or something..."

"Oh, we're killing the joker tonight," Dick said.

"Without me!"

"Well-"

"If you don't take me I won't tell you where he is, it's that simple."

"It'll be dangerous-"

"Tough shit blue bird, either all go or I sneak out and do it alone," she said crossing her arms. They all sighed and Damian came out of the fort to glare at her.

"You might get hurt, beloved..."

"None of you are going to let that happen, and in case you forgot I'm a vigilante too."

"Yeah but..."Jason trailed off and shot Dick a helpless look.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"We already handled it," Tim said subtly moving to block her exit.

"You handled it? You killed him without me," she seethed. How dare they take her revenge and not even tell her.

"We did it while you were playing checkers with Alfred," Dick said.

"Like two hours ago? You took off and killed the enemy right after breakfast, lied to me and thought what? I would be ok because of a mid afternoon slumber party!" She was pissed. In a way they hadn't seen in a long time, everyone but Damian was watching her with unease, not because he didn't care, but he knew his favorite sibling didn't like feeling cornered.

"We made him suffer," Jason supplied scratching the back of his head. She scoffed and tried to shove Tim out of her way but even younger than her he was still taller and stronger. He didn't budge.

"I'll fight you," she glared at him.

"I have backup."

"I'll go help Alfred cook. I don't wanna be around you right now," she said with barely concealed anger. Bastards.

"I'll walk you."

"I can walk myself."

"And take a detour I think not."

"Tim, sincerely and with my whole heart, fuck off."

"Hey, don't talk to him like that," Dick scolded.

In a petty move she gently gently kneed Tim in his family jewels just enough to shock him so he moved out of the way and then she was gone, down the hall before any of them could move again. She was getting pretty tired of her family making her run. The footsteps were getting closer and she could sense more than hear a door in front of her was about to open so she quickly shifted to the other side of the hall but the others were slowed or stopped from Bruce just trying to get into the hall.

"Catch her," Dick yelled to him but she was already out of reach. With a sigh Bruce joined the chase and holy crap could he move fast for his age. She was so close to her room then she could put it in lock down, pumping her legs with all her might and leaning so far forward she would face plant if she stopped she made it. Skidding to a stop she tried to slam the door shut but a boot got in the way.

"Screw all of you, you wanna know what the letters said? 'Joker's slut' that's what is carved into my thighs, I wanted to hurt him, I wanted to kill him and you took that from me," she all but screamed still trying to close the door on Bruce's foot but with everyone else pushing against the door and only her on the one side the fight didn't last long.

"I'm sorry I took that from you," Jason said dropping to his knees in front of her and making grabby hands. She stepped into him with a muttered curse and he wrapped his arms around her middle and shoved his face into her stomach. Not a care for their audience he just needed her.

"It's not true, the words, my beloved, it's not."

"I'm sorry to keep trauma dumping on you Dami."

"Tt, nonsense, you are to tell me everything." The scene was interesting what with Jason blocking the rest from getting in by being on the floor, Damian had shoved his way through to the front of the pack.

"Do you want us to bring him back so you can kill him?"

"No, I want this family to stop acting like I'm a shadow. Always in the background, always there but never being asked how I'm doing. Never getting checked on after patrol. None of you have...I've stitched myself up time and time again with nobody knowing a thing. You don't get to decide now that you care," she said all this while running her hands through Jason's hair and she chose not to mention her shirt was growing a bit damp.

"I'm sorry I haven't seen you. I'm sorry you felt like a shadow," Bruce said.

"You let Tim slip through the cracks too, after everything he's done for this family, none of you pay him any mind."

"Surely that's not, I haven't been that shit of a brother," Dick asked Tim.

"Not the time big bird we got a sick girl here and everyone else with their trauma-"

"Tim if I have to heal you do too."

"No more overlooking anyone, all of you are giving me daily check ins from here on out," Bruce demanded in his batman voice.

_____

True to his word Bruce checked in every morning like clockwork, even with the little bats that didn't live at the manor. They all received a call or a text and were hounded until they replied. He was the worst with Tim and y/n practically glued himself to them. Dick was no better having felt like he failed as a brother. Jason had moved into the room next to hers, much to Bruce's protest.

"I was thinking...if you wanted that is...I'm supposed to be watching you anyhow, maybe we can have a sleepover?"

"You want to share a bed under the bat's roof."

"We're adults."

"And what about Dick's little wake up calls where he bursts in and practically jumps on the bed?"

"We''ll lock the door-"

"And have him think I'm in here trying to kill myself."

"Ok so we'll kick Damian out of the dining room and explain...explain we'll be sleeping in the same room," he trailed off when he realized how well that was gonna go over.

"You could sneak out early," she said with a light smirk.

"Or we could be caught as fully clothed adults sleeping and nothing more."

She rolled her eyes but nodded yes, and he punched the air with glee.

"We can't, I'm not ready-"

"I'm not trying to rush you."

"Jason what if...I'm never ready?"

"Then I'll need recommendations for only left arm workouts."

"Jason," she squealed smacking him on the shoulder and looking around the garden to make sure nobody heard.

"Relax there's no ears out here."

"I just wanna take things slow."

"Just call me molasses." 10-5-24 more angst to come so enjoy the bit of fluff

@stormz369