#hold on tight to me i'll get us through this

[missdynamighttt]

thinking abt gym rat katsuki whos all tough and bad but hes SO FUCKING CLINGY LIKE 💔💔 he texts you “baby i just finished my work out im sooo sore i need a kiss” or if you’re also at the gym with him, he makes you pause your entire work out so he can hold onto you or watch you when hes doing his reps UGHHHHHHH

katsuki swears he's the toughest, most intimidating dude in the gym — all sharp glares and bulging muscles, sweat dripping down his abs as he absolutely thrives through his sets. everyone around him is too scared to even make eye contact.

but the second he's done? this man turns into the world's clingiest boyfriend.

if you’re not at the gym with him, you’re guaranteed to get a text like:

"baby i just finished my set im sooo sore"

"need a kiss or im gonna die"

like he wasn't the same man who was just benching insane weights with a terrifying scowl just minutes ago.

and if you're there with him? oh, forget about focusing. he’ll straight-up pause whatever you were doing just so he can latch onto you.

"oi, oi, stop that—" he grumbles, practically manhandling you away. "babe. babe. i'm dying. gimme a kiss. please. hurts so bad."

next thing you know, this big, sweaty man is hugging you like you’re his personal recovery method, arms wrapped tight around your waist with his face buried in your neck.

"katsuki, you literally just deadlifted 400 pounds—"

"yeah and now i’m weak as hell. baby, c'mon. fix me. kiss me."

and if you're doing your reps? ohhh no. he'll straight-up stop you. like, you're mid-set, doing squats or something, and suddenly he's behind you trying to get you to stop.

"baaabe... stop for a sec. needa hold you. missed you."

"katsuki, i’m in the middle of—"

"so? just like... five minutes. i'll spot you after, promise. just lemme have you right now."

and don’t even get started on when you’re using the treadmill or doing cardio. this man will plop himself on the bench in front of you, arms crossed, pouting like a child while he watches you. every few minutes he's like:

"babe. babe. you done yet?"

"katsuki, i have ten more minutes—"

"nooo... can't you like... cut it short or somethin'? wanna go home and cuddle."

and if you try to push through your workout without stopping? he gets dramatic.

"why’re you even workin' out so hard anyway?" he grumbles, draping himself over you between sets. "your body’s already perfect. s'no point when you’re already the hottest thing in this gym."

"oh my god, katsuki—"

"nah, nah, 'm serious. c’mon. just skip that and come home with me. my arms hurt. i need my girl."

the second you both step through your home, katsuki barely lets you put your gym bag down before he's on you.

his big, calloused hands grab your waist, pulling you flush against his still-sweaty, rock-hard body. his lips crash into yours — desperate, hungry — like he's been deprived of you for hours, not mere minutes.

"missed you," he mutters against your mouth, his voice thick with need. "fuckin' missed you the whole time. couldn’t even focus right."

"katsuki," you breathe, trying to catch up with his fervor. "we were literally just together."

"don’t care," he growls, hoisting you up effortlessly. your legs wrap around his waist on instinct, and he carries you toward the bedroom like you weigh nothing.

he's on you like a man starved — like he’s convinced the only thing that’ll mend his sore muscles and aching body is you. his mouth is back on your throat, kissing, biting, groaning against your skin as his hands roam your body like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you.

"fuck, baby," he growls, voice heavy with lust. "you’re so fuckin' pretty. prettiest girl in the whole goddamn world, y'know that?"

his rough, calloused fingers glide down your stomach, over the curve of your waist, his touch lingering. "look at you. my perfect fuckin' girl."

your head spins at his words, and when his mouth finds your chest, he bites down gently on your nipple, groaning at the way your back arches for him.

by the time he lays you down, he's already tugging at your gym shorts. "need you," he groans, his teeth scraping against your jaw. "need my girl. fuckin' hurtin' without you."

you can’t help but laugh breathlessly. "you're acting like you’re about to die—"

"'cause i am," he insists, yanking your shorts and underwear down in one swift motion. "s'posed to be recoverin', damn it. how'm i gonna do that without my girl takin' care of me?"

his gaze drops to your cunny, pupils filled with want. his hands squeeze your thighs as he spreads you open, his mouth watering at the sight of your slickness.

"goddamn," he swears, his voice cracked with need. "look at this perfect little pussy. drippin' f'me already. so fuckin' pretty down here too, baby."

then, his mouth is on you, hot, wet, and starving. his tongue flicks over your clit, drawing a shocked moan from your throat. his strong hands pin your thighs apart, keeping you helpless against his relentless attention.

"fuck, baby," he groans, voice muffled as he buries himself between your legs. "missed this. missed how you taste. god, you're perfect."

your back arches as his tongue moves with purpose, alternating between slow, deliberate licks and quick, needy sucks. he’s not just eating you out — he’s devouring you, like your pleasure is the only thing that'll bring him back to life. every time you squirm or try to pull away, his grip tightens.

his tongue drags up your slit, slow and deliberate, before he sucks your clit into his mouth hard enough to make you cry out.

"there it is," he groans, voice wrecked. "there’s my pretty girl’s voice. fuckin’ love how you sound for me, baby."

your fingers claw at his hair, but he doesn’t let up.

"taste so good, baby. fuck. can’t get enough of you," he’s moaning like he’s the one being pleasured, rutting his hips against the mattress as he devours you. "this sweet little pussy’s all mine, yeah? s'only ever gonna be mine."

"katsuki—" you gasp, already teetering on the edge.

his tongue flicks faster, his grip on your thighs bruising as he practically pulls you into his mouth. "yeah, baby, c'mon. cum f'me. wanna feel you drench my fuckin' face. wanna taste my pretty girl's cum so bad."

and when you finally came — gasping his name, legs trembling — he didn't stop. if anything, he gets more desperate, lapping up every bit of you like a man starved. "fuuuck, yeah—there's my girl. goddamn, baby, you cum so pretty f'me."

but even as you tremble, he doesn’t stop. his tongue keeps working you through your high, licking up every bit of you like he’s trying to consume you whole.

he's crawling up your body, kissing you breathless with your own taste on his tongue.

"gonna make you cum on my cock next, baby. then i'll be all better, swear it," he rasps, his voice strained with need. "ain't done worshippin' you yet. lemme take care of you, yeah?”

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ lmao sorry, exam season and shit, hope you guys enjoy clingy (and a lil ooc) katsuki<33 will work on the 4k special soon!!

[tinyshyteacup]

TW: cussing, medical descriptions

Part 33

Scotch & Screams - Part 34

The room was quiet except for the soft scrape of a chair being pulled closer to the bed.

Chibs settled beside you, his movements slow, careful—like you might shatter if he wasn’t gentle enough.

His hands, rough and calloused, reached for the medical kit on the nightstand, but his eyes never left you.

"Let’s get these changed, mo chridhe," he murmured, voice low and even, but there was a tightness beneath it, something barely restrained.

You nodded slightly, feeling the dull throb in your ribs at the motion. You let out a quiet hiss throught your teeth as you shifted yourself higher up the bed.

You had felt the cut on your face for days now—the sting of stitches, the tug of bandages, the aching burn every time you moved too much.

But you hadn’t seen it yet.

Chibs must have noticed your hesitation, because his hand brushed over yours, warm and solid.

"Ye don’t have to look if ye don’t want to."

You swallowed, fingers curling into the blanket as you dragged it higher up your body, the warmth of it a small comfort agasint the pain.

"I should get used to my new face, Scotsman." You huffed out a laugh, but there was no humor in it.

He exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening. But he didn’t argue.

Instead, he reached for the bandage at your cheek, his touch impossibly light as he began to peel it away.

The air felt colder against your skin the moment it was exposed. Stinging at the edges where the cut flexed with your movements.

Chibs didn’t react immediately, but you felt the shift in the air around him, the way his breath stilled. His fingers clenched for the briefest second before he forced them to relax.

"Filip?" Your voice was quiet.

He blinked, realizing he’d been staring too long. His lips parted, but for a moment, nothing came out.

Then, finally, his voice, thick with something you couldn’t or wouldn't name.

"It’s just a cut, love," he said, though there was a roughness to his tone that betrayed him.

His thumb ghosted over your uninjured cheek. "Yer still you."

You knew he was trying to be strong for you, trying to keep the emotion from bleeding through. But you could see it in his eyes.

The rage.

The grief.

The guilt.

His own past threatening to bubble over.

Your throat tightened. You swallowed.

Reaching up. Your fingertips brushing over his wrist.

Your eyes drifted to Chibs' own scars, they made him handsome even rougish in your eyes, perhaps yours wouldn't be so bad

"I'll see what it looks like eventually, Filip" You said simply, holding your free hand out.

Chibs didn’t answer right away. He just shifted, reaching for the small mirror on the nightstand. He hesitated for only a second before placing it in your hand.

The reflection stared back at you—your face pale, bruised, your cheek marred by the angry red line of stitches curling down at the corner of your mouth.

It wasn’t deep enough to split your face fully, but it was there, an ugly reminder of everything Jimmy had done.

Your stomach twisted. Your fingers trembled slightly against the mirror’s edge.

"It’s not so bad," you whispered, but you weren’t sure if you believed it.

Chibs scoffed softly, shaking his head. "Yer shite at lying, love."

Your throat burned. "Filip I—"

"Look at me." His voice was firmer this time, pulling your attention back to him.

His hand came up, cupping your jaw with the kind of reverence that made your chest ache.

His thumb traced delicate line just below the stitches, careful not to hurt you.

"This?" he murmured. "This wee thing doesn’t change a damn thing. Yer still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on."

Tears pricked at the edges of your vision. You bit your lip, but Chibs caught it instantly, brushing his thumb against it.

"Don’t do that," he murmured. "Ye’ll tear the stitches."

You let out a shaky breath. "I just… I don’t want to be a walking bloody reminder."

Something flickered across his face then—something raw, unfiltered.

"The only thing I see when I look at ye is the woman I want," he said, his voice rough with conviction.

"An’ the bastards who did this? They’re gone, mo chridhe. They’ll never touch ye again."

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of those words, the quiet promise in them.

Chibs pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a long moment before pulling away. "Now, let me clean this up, aye?"

Before he could move to help, a soft rapt sounded on the door, Tara eased the door open before stepping in.

Hospital bag in hand she carefully sat beside you, the bed dipping slightly, she tilted her head as she studied you.

"How’s the pain?" she asked.

You shrugged. "Manageable."

Tara gave you a knowing look. "That means it still hurts like hell."

A small smirk tugged at your lips, but you hissed softly and schooled it away. "Maybe."

She sighed, reaching for your wrist, carefully inspecting the bruises and broken skin on each one.

Chibs, watching with that ever-present sharp gaze, straightened slightly.

"No fever," Tara noted, brushing your hair back to check the stitches on your cheek. "That’s good. You’re healing."

"She needs tae rest," Chibs muttered, arms crossing over his chest.

Tara glanced at him, one brow raising. "You been letting her move around at all?"

"Not a hope in hell of that, Doc" You huffed, but there was no real malice in it.

You stifled a laugh at the way Chibs’ scowl deepened. Tara just smirked.

"She’s stubborn, doc," he grumbled.

"Yeah, well," Tara patted your knee before standing. "She’s lucky she’s got you to be just as stubborn back."

Chibs huffed, shaking his head as he moved the medical kit.

"Ye listen tae her, love," he murmured, his fingers sorting through the supplies.

"Last thing I need is ye collapsin’ on me."

You leaned toward him slightly, resting your head against the wall with a tired sigh. "I’ll be fine, Scotsman."

"Aye," he murmured. "Ye will be."

The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and whiskey—his usual scent mixed with the sharp sterility of medical supplies.

Chibs sat on the edge of the bed, rolling up his sleeves, the muscles in his forearms tensing.

His jaw was tight, eyes scanning over your battered body like he was memorizing every injury, every mark left behind by the bastards who had dared to lay hands on you.

"Right, love," he murmured, voice thick with that deep Scottish rasp. "Let’s get ye sorted."

His touch was gentle, but his hands weren’t steady.

You could feel the tension in him, the barely-contained fury that simmered just beneath the surface.

He hated this.

Hated seeing you like this.

Hated that he couldn’t take the pain, the scars, from you, no matter how much he wanted to.

You tried to joke, to lighten the weight in the air. "If you keep looking at me like that, Filip, I’m gonna think it's worse then it is."

Chibs huffed out a breath, shaking his head as he reached for a clean swab.

"Told ye already, ye look perfect, mo chridhe." His voice was firm, but you could hear the stuble grief beneath it.

You winced when it pulled at the stitches. Chibs caught the reaction instantly, his brows knitting together in concern.

"Easy, love," he murmured, tilting your chin slightly so he could dab at the wound with disinfectant.

It stung, sharp and biting, and your breath hitched.

His free hand moved to settled on your knee, a steadying touch. "I know, love. I know. Almost done."

His voice softened, quieter now, like he was speaking just to you. And maybe he was—like the rest of the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you in this moment.

When the cut was clean, he reached for a fresh bandage, his fingers brushing against your skin as he carefully placed it over the stitches.

His touch lingered for a second longer than necessary before he pulled away.

His gaze dropped to your wrists, and his throat worked as he swallowed hard.

The bruises there—dark, cruel shadows of what had been done—made something sharp flicker through his eyes.

"Filip—"

"It shouldn’t have come tae this," he cut in, voice tight.

His hands balled into fists before he forced himself to relax, reaching out to take your wrist in his palm.

"Never again love" He said it like a vow.

The bruises were tender, the skin cracked where the restraints had dug in too deep.

He worked in silence, jaw clenched as he smoothed cream over them, his fingers feather-light.

"They hurt ye," he murmured, almost to himself.

"And you stopped them." Your voice was quiet, but certain.

His eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching.

"Aye," he agreed. Chibs carefully unfolded clean soft bandages to wrap around the cracked skin.

Your ribs were next.

You tried to shift, but Chibs made a low sound in his throat, one hand pressing lightly against your side. "Stay put, mo chridhe. Don’t make this worse."

You huffed a small breath, half amusement, half frustration. "Haven't we pasted worse."

Chibs didn’t laugh.

Instead, he exhaled slowly, fingers trailing just above the bruises, careful not to put pressure where it would hurt. "Ye should be in a hospital," he muttered.

"No hospitals, they'd ask questions Filip" your argument was one you'd picked up on in your time with SAMCRO.

His lips pressed into a tight line, but he didn’t argue.

He knew you where learning, part of him hated that you had to.

Chibs worked with what he had. His hands were steady as he wrapped your ribs, firm enough to support but not enough to hurt.

The warmth of his fingers seeped into your skin as he worked, his breath coming slow and measured.

"Ye need tae rest," he said finally, securing the bandage in place. "Let yer body heal."

You gave him a small, tired smile. "Is that Filip or the medic talking?"

Chibs scoffed, shaking his head. "Both love."

Chibs stayed with you long after the wounds were cleaned and bandaged.

He didn’t rush you to lie down, didn’t push you to sleep—he just stayed, fingers laced through yours, his presence solid and unwavering.

And when your eyelids finally grew too heavy, when exhaustion pulled you under, you felt the last thing before sleep took you—

A press of lips against your temple.

[lafamilledelioncourt]

me, with cirilla of cintra in one arm, the vampire claudia in the other, and jason todd on my back, doing my best samwise gamgee voice: i can't save me from my childhood trauma, but i can save you!

[bi-writes]

Thinking about going into labor while your partner is on the way somewhere unimportant, who refuses to come home to help you. And instead of being alone and scared, you hang up and call up one of your childhood friends everyone thought you'd wind up with. Kyle shows up at your door, furious but does his best to hide it, and helps you through it all. Next day the father of your child has the audacity to show up like nothing is wrong to see Kyle holding your baby so you can take a well deserved nap.

he picks up on the third ring. you tremble, gripping the edge of the porcelain tub. when you finally hear his voice, just the sound of him soothes your beating heart, just a little.

"'ello, love."

"kyle?" you sniffle. his background quiets a bit. you hear a door close, and then he's a bit louder.

"hey, love. what's wrong? you sound upset."

"my water broke," you hiccup. "a-and i...i was in the bath...i-i..." you close your eyes. "i can't get out of the tub."

"jesus fucking christ." you whimper, but kyle just hums. "not you, baby. hey, you just relax, alright? you said you were in the bath. just relax, and i'll be there soon."

"kyle--"

"don't be scared," kyle chuckles, and you whine a little. "hey, you're gonna have a baby. you've been waiting for this, yeah? haven't you?"

"y-yeah..."

"aren't you excited? you always tell me how much you can't wait, right?"

"yeah..."

"don't be scared," kyle repeats. "you just relax. be happy. she's coming today!"

you smile, wiping your face a little, and when kyle hears your giggle, he sighs.

"good girl. you sit tight."

so you do. you lean against the side of the tub, and you rest in the warm water as you stare at your phone screen.

he won't answer the phone. he hasn't read your texts. he's not coming.

you hear the front door open and close, and then there's a gentle knock on the bathroom door. when kyle comes in, you try to cover up, moving your hands over your tits, embarrassed, but kyle just goes to look for a clean towel to help you out.

"it's okay, love, i won't look," kyle tells you. he smiles at you, cupping your face gently, and you look into his dark eyes. "you look so pretty. you're glowin', y'know that?" you smile through gentle tears, putting a hand over your belly, and you try to move, but it's no use. kyle drops the towel, kneeling, and you shake your head.

"i-i can't get out--" you gasp, and kyle rolls up his sleeves over his thick forearms, putting the towel over his shoulder before he reaches for you.

"it's alright. i'll get you out. i'll try not to look, okay?"

"i'm so embarrassed...i'm so sorry, kyle..." you sniffle.

"don't apologize, love. i got it. give me your hands, put 'em around me."

you lift up your wet arms, wrapping them around his neck. you press your chest against his, and he picks you up as you stand, helping you to your feet. as you cup your belly, he wraps the towel around you, covering you, and then he holds your hand as you step out of the tub.

"alright. now where's your bag, darling?"

kyle grabs your bag and supplies as you get dressed in your room. as you pull your socks on, kyle comes up behind you, smoothing your hair down your back before he starts to braid it. he used to braid your hair all the time when you were kids--he always said he wanted to practice for his sisters.

"you got the car seat, kyle?" you ask as he holds your hand, and he nods.

"mhm. in the car already."

"a-and the diaper bag?"

"in the boot."

"my extra clothes? and my...my stuff?"

"mhm. i got it, love. and whatever you forgot, i'll get it for you. alright, up, buckle in, that's a girl."

he holds your hand the entire way. you groan softly when a particularly painful contraction hits you, but when you squeeze kyle's hand, all he does is squeeze back. you take deep breaths, leaning your head back, and he hums.

"you're doing so well, love. so well."

"why..." your eyes water. you squeeze his hand again, and when you look down, your vision is blurry from your tears. "why didn't he answer? w-why...why doesn't he...w-why would he..."

"don't worry your pretty head about tha', love," kyle interrupts you gently. "only thing you need to worry about is you and her. i got it."

"o-okay."

she's beautiful. she looks more like you than her father, and kyle counts that blessing. she's got your eyes, your nose, your hair. her cheeks belong to her father, but she might as well be your twin, and when kyle takes her from you later that night, rocking her gently, he can really see up close how much she looks like you.

in the middle of the night, kyle holds your hand as you get up to go to the bathroom. your entire body is tender and sluggish, but kyle keeps you upright as you walk, kissing your head gently as he helps you take a seat on the toilet.

he even gets your underwear set up for you, with the big pad and everything, and he helps you step into it and slips them up and over your hips. you're a tearful mess as he does this, but kyle just presses his forehead against yours.

the look in his eyes, you will never forget it. the intensity. the commitment. the stability. every time you pick up the phone, kyle answers, and sometimes he's thousands of miles away. your own boyfriend can't even have the decency to answer when you're nine months pregnant--what did he fucking think the call was going to be about?

back in your room, kyle fits into the bed with you. he lets your rest your head on his chest, and when you ask him if he's going to go home, he tells you this is close enough.

in the morning, kyle's sitting outside your room with the baby. he's holding her, touching her little nose, letting you sleep in. you had a rough night, and when he found you still with your eyes closed that morning, he figured he would let you keep sleeping, just for an extra hour or so.

you deserve it.

"is that her?"

kyle's head turns with a snap. standing there, hands shoved deep in his pockets, is your pathetic excuse of a boyfriend. not man enough to answer the phone when you most needed him, not strong enough to do the right thing and marry you, and not wise enough to realize all he had to do was take care of you, and the world would be right again. you're not greedy. you don't ask for anything. all you want is to love and be loved, and kyle doesn't think that's too much to ask for, kyle thinks you're one of the most selfless women he's ever known, so why does this fucking bastard of a man get to call himself this girl's father?

kyle looks back down, fixing the blanket over your daughter's neck carefully. he thinks he did pretty good swaddling her this time, but you might have an opinion on it.

"i'm gonna say somethin', mate," kyle says lowly. "'n after i say it, y'r gonna do some thinking, real thinking."

he laughs a little, shaking his head.

"why don't you give me my baby, and get the fuck outta 'ere?"

kyle looks up and snickers, shaking his head. he gets a better grip on your daughter, sitting back, and he fixes your ex with a sinister smile.

"and what if i don't? you gonna take her from me?" kyle chuckles. "i'd love to see you try."

he stands, raising a brow.

"listen here, and listen close." kyle takes a step closer to him. "you're a right pile of shit comin' here thinking that you can just waltz right in and be daddy of the year, alright? what kind of man are you, eh? your girl in need, callin' you, and you don't even have the fuckin' balls to answer her? take a good look at your kid, mate, cause it's the last time you're ever gonna see her."

"no, i have the right--"

"to fuck right off," kyle snaps. "if i see you near her or her daughter ever again, i'll find you, and i'll make it worth your while, mate. make you feel real sorry finally, y'hear me? 'n when i take her back home, all of your junk better be out the flat. otherwise, i'll fucking burn it."

"kyle?"

your voice pulls him away. kyle adjusts the baby in his arm, going back inside, and he shuts the door behind him, finding your eyes. you reach for the baby, arms outstretched, and kyle easily sets her down in them, watching as you cradle the tiny thing into the crook of your neck and stroke the back of her neck.

the nurses come in and drop off a few papers. one stops, looking at kyle, giving him a big smile.

"congratulations," she tells him, and he smiles back at her. she takes a seat next to him, holding out a clipboard. "do you think i could get a few details? i just need to know mum's name, baby's name--"

kyle gives it to her. your birthplace. your birthday. your name. your baby's name. then she flips a paper over, putting her pen down.

"and dad's name?" she asks.

kyle sighs, leaning back in his chair. they don't give out birth certificates right away. you have to request it. you won't find out, not just yet, maybe he'll even pick it up for you. you'll be much too busy being mummy dearest.

"kyle," he tells her, flashing her that big smile. she blushes a little, writing it down. "kyle garrick."

he looks back at where you are, your eyes on him. you smile shyly when your eyes meet, and kyle leaves the nurse to come up to you and drape a hand behind your head. he strokes along your hair gently, thumbing at your temple.

"i heard you outside, kyle."

"did you?"

"and i heard you just now."

"mm."

you blink, reaching for the edge of his shirt, and you pull him down, further, until his face is nearly against yours.

"i guess i shouldn't be surprised," you say softly, reaching up to smooth a a few knuckles down his cheek. he leans into it, licking his lips, and you bite your lip. "you've always had a habit of...taking what doesn't belong to you, huh?"

kyle laughs. always the pretty boy, ever since you were little. one smile from him--kyle could get away with anything. anything at all.

"who says you don't belong to me?"

[dcxdpdabbles]

Scarecrow: I am the master of Fear!

Danny: Look, dude, I don't care what you and my knight get up to in the privacy of your bedroom, but you keep that to yourself.

Scarecrow: A wise guy, huh? Let's see how many jokes you can crack after my latest creation.

Danny: Agh! Did you just spray me with your cheap cologne?

Scarecrow: You shall know fear.

Danny: I shall know a shower to get this smell off me. What is that? Citrus? Gross.

Scarecrow: Why aren't you screaming in horror!?

Danny: Oh, I've experienced horrors alright. I have a meeting with Fright Knight after this. I won't be able to look him in the eye later.

Red Robin: This isn't what I was expecting when I used the emergency summons Constantine gave me. I thought it would bring him here not, who ever you are.

Danny: I forgot about my summoner. Hold tight, I'll save you now.

Danny to Scarecrow: Look, dude, normally I would beat you up, stuff you into a thermos, and wash my hands of it. But seeing as you're Fright Knight's lover, I'll just steal the human boy and give you a warning instead. Sound good?

Scarecrow: You shall not!

Red Robin: Wait a minute!

Danny snapping his fingers to open a protal: Shush human sacrifice. We must leave.

Scarecrow: Don't you dare! Hey!

Danny: Okay byeeeeeeee!~ *protal closes*

Batman: *crashing through a window* Scarecrow where is Red Robin!? What have you done with him!

Scarecrow: He got kidnapped by a being that feels no fear.

Batman: I will make you talk.

Scarecrow: I know I'm crazy but that's actually what happened, I swear.

[jesusonafrickinboat]

my mom just tested positive for covid *internal anxious screaming*

the good news is that she's been wearing a KN95 mask ever since her partner tested positive on thursday (and he's been staying at his kid's house since ours is too small to really quarantine in), washing her hands + wiping down stuff she touches, and keeping away from us as much as possible. we've also had the air purifiers running full blast this whole time + keeping windows open as much as possible

the last time I took a test was friday and it was negative. I'll test again tomorrow/tuesday (unless I'm feeling too anxious, in which case I'll test again today & tuesday)

[drip-p1ss]

use a catheter on me. fill me up before going to sleep, water, soda and of course a lot of tea. in the morning I'm desperate, pleading for my morning release, but you don't let me go. I'm squirming, even standing is really painful. I think it's finally over when you come to me at my catheter, but you just attach a funnel and fill me up with your piss. at this point my bladder is unbearably stretched, it just hurts. I beg you to let me pee but you have other plans. you dress me in a slutty outfit, short crop top with no bras and a tiny skirt without panties.

"we're going to the grocery store" you say. and that's it, my begs are usless.

every step is painful, my legs can barely hold me but fortunately the store is near. we go through the aisles, you order me to bend to take some stuff, just to see my ass, my bare pussy showing off and whimper escaping from my lips. it hurts so much, I need to empty my bladder. we wait in line for payment, luckly an old woman allow us to pass.

"you should go first since you're pregnant, such a lovely couple" she said, pointing towards my bulging belly. I can barely smile, the bladder is so full and stretched, you smirk. "you're so kind ma'am, wanna feel the baby?" so you guide her hand to my belly, prodding and squishing it, I just wanna cry. the old woman starts touching it too.

"please..." I manage to whimper. "oh poor girl, you must be so sensitive, you might need a massage" said the woman, starting touching harder to help but just getting me more desperate. you chuckle, seeing how the ma'am was unknowingly torturing me.

"thanks for the advice, I'll treat her at home" you smirk. after paying and getting back I start begging you. on the floor of the house I'm just a whimpering mess.

"don't worry, I got you" you said, just for you to turn me over, my bladder pressing on the floor in a hurtful way and your cock sliding into my tight cunt.

"please so full... to full..." I can only whimper, my bladder stretched to unbearable limits. you continue pounding into me, while I cry until you cum and cum again. my pussy abused, overstimulated and red, your cum filling me even more. you let out some other sprout of piss, just to plug it in me and leave me on the floor like this, a whimpering and crying mess, full, hurt and bruised, with my belly stretched out and bulging a lot. piss and cum filling me up.

"get up, you have my bath to run" you order. it will be a long day and I can already barely crawl without crying in pain.

pretty please??? (MDNI)

[after-the-end-times]

random omegaverse gang leader!eddie idea that popped into my head. Not sure if I'll expand it, but figured I'd throw it out into the ether

Omega Steve who's heading back to his car late one night and gets lightly kidnapped by a local gang because they think he's the kid of a local politician.

he rolls his eyes and tries to explain that he's no one worth kidnapping, but they still tell him to get in the suv. He huffs and says 'fine, take me to your leader. we'll get this straightened out. and you're personally paying if I come back to a parking ticket.'

he sits in the backseat on the drive, arms crossed, mouth down turned, side eyeing anyone who speaks.

they arrive at some bar, motorcycles lining the front. Steve hops out willingly, but one guy still grabs an arm to pull him through the bar's door. Steve yanks his arm away, steps into his space, glares at the guy and points a finger in his face. 'what was the point of that, hm? I was already coming in! hmph! I'm gonna speak to your little ringleader about this behavior. completely unacceptable treatment of an innocent kidnapping victim!'

the guy looms over Steve (what is he? 7ft tall?? rude) and gives him a shove backwards, Steve stumbles back into someone. the guy sneers, 'yeah? go ahead. see if he cares about some yappy omega we can use to protect our pack.'

the hands on Steve's shoulders push him back to standing and the familiar voice of somebody that he used to know says, 'what's all this about a yappy omega?'

and confusing every gang member in the entire bar, Steve's face lights up. he spins around, eyes bright and grinning. 'Eddie!' and throws his arms around Eddie's shoulders in a tight hug.

Eddie's arms encircle his waist, holding on tight. after a long moment wherein not a single gang member breathed, he lifted his head from where he'd instinctively tucked it against Steve's throat and sent a cold look at the guy who shoved his Steve

[irisintheafterglow]

itoshi rin doesn't get injuries. ever.

he's downright religious about stretching, warming up properly, and being aware of how his body is holding up under the intense conditions of a match. he keeps a strict diet, an even stricter sleeping schedule, and pops enough vitamins and supplements to make his immune system work at 200%. but, when stupidly lukewarm isagi misplaces his stupidly lukewarm foot, rin ends up rolling his ankle harder than a bowling ball slammed down a lane. he doesn't react immediately to the lightning bolt of pain that shoots up his calf, only sending isagi a withering glare and continuing to rush the opposition's net.

like the rest of his team, you don't notice something is wrong until the end of the scrimmage, when rin collapses and curls his upper body around his ankle. his hands clutch the bottom of his leg and he shuts his eyes tight to hold in the frustrated groan he wants to release. the other players approach him and he snarls like a circus tiger, barking at them to leave him be. the same tune is played for the medical team, having no choice but to retreat after he insists he just needs a second to rest. with a deep inhale to prepare, you steel your nerves and walk over to where he sits.

"i said go," he seethes, his forehead resting against his propped knee. his eyes are shut, but he can feel someone standing there, watching him with a pitying look in their eyes. stupid. he gets hurt and suddenly it's poor, poor rin and his poor, poor ankle. it's weakness that he needs to stomp out, weakness that--

"you need to ice that." his eyes open slowly and you catch his walls recede ever so slightly. you always had a no-nonsense kind of relationship with rin, especially as a health analyst-in-training who was the only brave soul that spoke to him among your cohort. there was an unspoken level of respect that you had for him that you assumed he reciprocated, seeing as he always had patience for your long spiels outlining everything to do with his physical wellbeing. he appreciated that you never asked about his mental wellbeing, but sometimes your gut told you that maybe you should.

"i'm fine," he says through gritted teeth and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at his melodrama. you bite back your initial retort and instead settle on the turf next to him, your legs facing the opposite way so that you're not making direct eye contact. he watches you from the outskirts of his vision, as do the rest of the remaining team on the field, but doesn't deny your company. you let him take a few more breaths before asking your next question.

"what hurts?" any other trainee in your group would immediately be subject to scathing insults about their personality and emotional aptitude. you'd seen it, how he snapped at the trainees that weren't you.

"calf. ankle. inside of my foot," he mumbles, shame evident in his voice. he didn't like appearing weak; he already felt weak living in the shadow of sae. it was something he was constantly fighting against, carrying the sack of weight on his shoulder every game. he waits for you to scoff, to tell him to get over it, but you don't. instead, you hum and refrain from looking at him directly. in a way, it's the indirect conversation that he appreciates the most.

"i'm gonna get you a tennis ball for your ankle. where's your water?"

"back left by the bench." you nod and retrieve both items, returning to him in no time at all. you don't even stop to converse with the other concerned members of the management team, making a beeline back to him like you had no other place to be. "you should go," he says before you sit down again.

you wait for him to elaborate. he doesn't.

"do you want me to?"

he hesitates.

"...no."

"then i'll stay." you sit closer this time, still facing the other direction, but close enough that your arms could brush if he leaned close enough. rin won't admit that he likes the proximity. "i don't need to tell you how to use a tennis ball," you comment and his silence expresses his gratitude. he reaches wordlessly for the ball but you hold it just out of reach. "but, i am gonna force you to drink water before you do anything else."

"i'm not thirsty."

"i don't care," you reply. "you won't get better if you're not hydrated." part of him hates that you're right, that you're sitting here pitying him. but, he takes the bottle from your hand anyway and downs a few sips that turn into large gulps. he didn't realize how parched he'd become. "there. what else can i do?"

"stop pitying me," he scowls without thinking. as much as you like to think he's different when he's with you, there's still times like these when the rage slips out and he snaps. you haven't known him long enough to weather his storms, but you're determined to wait it out and you know he notices. he's too smart not to notice the way your shoulders sag, the way you conveniently look anywhere but in his direction, the way you're fighting every instinct to abandon him to protect yourself. "it's," he forces out, surprising you both, "it's not-i'm not your responsibility. i don't need you to take care of me."

"but do you want me to?"

he hesitates again and turns to look at you completely, detecting no sense of pity or malice or arrogance in your expression. you were there to help him, and you wanted him to trust you. what a foreign feeling.

"yes."

so you continue to sit there with him in silence, running your fingers absentmindedly over the turf as he gently massages his ankle with the tennis ball. you don't question when his shoulder brushes yours for a second, then returns to completely lean against you. when he decides it's time to wash up, he takes your hand and lets you help him off the field, his arm draped around your upper back as you act as his crutch. you later tell him after he's showered that you didn't help him because you pitied him, but because you knew he would be too stubborn to ask for help.

"how are you so sure?"

"because you told me to leave, remember? and who would have helped you if i left? who would you allow to help you?" you don't wait for him to answer and bid him a polite goodbye, leaving his face warm and completely at a loss for words.

he decides that it's not so bad if he gets injured, as long as you're the one sitting on the turf with him after the game.

[wildflowerhuggy]

Swerved // OP81

| pairing: oscar piastri x reader

| summary: reader decides to prank her boyfriend by swerving all of his kisses throughout the day, curious as to how long it'll take until he has enough

| warnings: should be none

| authors note: hope you enjoy :))

The day started innocently enough, Oscar doing his usual of leaning over to kiss you good morning as his arm snakes around your waist to pull you closer. But instead of feeling his lips meet yours as they usually do, he was met with your cheek.

"Morning breath," you mumbled, removing his arm and slipping out of bed to head to the bathroom before he could give any protest.

He gave you an odd look, not used to you rejecting his morning kisses but let it slide anyways.

Later on, while you were in the kitchen preparing lunch, he began feeling particularly touch-starved, so he made his way over to you to try again. Slipping his arms around you from behind, he tries leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, only to be met with you turning your body at the last second so he only got your cheek.

"Just put on some lipgloss," you shrugged, pointing at the shiny pink tube sitting near the edge of the counter.

Oscar squinted at you in confusion, but didn't bother pressing the issue.

By evening though, you could tell your boyfriend's patience was wearing thin. Every time he leaned in for a kiss—whether it was a playful peck or searching for something more—you would straight up dodge him, give him an excuse or strategically time a movement to get out of the way. You bit your tongue to stop your laughs every time you saw the furrow in his brow or his cute little bunny teeth worry his lip in confusion.

Now, you found yourselves cuddled on the couch, your legs draped over his lap and your head leaning on his shoulder as some action movie played in the background. You were scrolling aimlessly on your phone, not bothering to pay attention to the tv, while his fingers lazily traced patterns along the side of your thigh.

It was the perfect moment for him to finally get what he had been searching for the whole day. Oscar tilted his head towards you, hand moving from your thigh to gently cup your cheek as he leaned in for a kiss. Deciding to mess with him a little more, you waited until your lips were just about to graze each other before turning your head, letting his lips brush against your ear.

That was his final straw...

Oscar abruptly pulled back, his expression a mix of disbelief, hurt and irritation. "Right then," he said, tone laced with mock seriousness, "Guess this is it then, eh? Guess I'll just go pack my stuff up and stay with Lando."

He shifted under you, as if to stand up and head to your room, moving to lift you off of his lap.

Giggling uncontrollably at this, you clung to him, wrapping your arms firmly around his neck and refusing to be moved. "No, no, no, don't go! It was just a prank, honey!"

"A prank?" he repeated slowly, as if he had never heard that word before, narrowing his eyes at you.

You nodded frantically, still laughing nervously as you kept your tight hold on him, "I just wanted to see how long it would take you to snap."

Oscar let out a pained groan, though you could see the smile tugging at his lips, "You're so cruel, you know that?"

Before you could even think about giving a cheeky response his hands shot to your sides, fingers digging into your ribs as he began his merciless attack of tickling you.

"No! Osc! Stop, please!" you let out a squeal, wiggling around in his lap unable to control your laughter.

"Never! This is revenge for messing with me all day long!" he responds, his own peals of laughter breaking through his voice as he continued his assault.

You gasped for air, tears of laughter streaming down your cheeks as you gave in, "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! I'll never refuse your kisses again!"

At this Oscar finally relented, pulling you back into your previous position against his chest as you both tried to catch your breath. He leaned down to press a kiss on your head.

"You're lucky I love you so much," he muttered into your hair.

"And you're lucky you're so cute when you're frustrated, honey." you teased, earning a playful glare before he leaned in for a long-awaited and long-deserved kiss—a proper one this time.

[xoxolilixx]

☽︎ 𝘽𝙞𝙜 𝙂𝙞𝙧𝙡 ☾︎

✩𝙀𝙠𝙠𝙤 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧✩

✩𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 - your ego is bigger than your cunt, and now your forced to eat your words by Ekko's hands.

✩𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨 - SMUT. pet names, crying, ekko being a asshole, unprotected sex(WRAP THAT SHIT BEFORE YOU TAP THAT SHIT)

✩𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - this is my first smut in a while and I feel like I overdid it with the details🥲 Nonetheless I hope you guys enjoy it ❤︎

You were always a little cocky. You thought the most of yourself, and that was fine, that's what Ekko loved about you, especially in moments where it came to bite you in the ass, like now.

"Are you sure, love?" He chuckled softly as he sat down in his desk chair, leant back with his knees spread as his dark beautiful eyes watched as you sat atop his desk, "I don't wanna break you." You couldn't help but laugh at his teasing and condescending tone, taking it as his way of challenging you as you hopped off his desk, "I'll be just fine, Ekko," you smirked as you maneuvered yourself in between his thighs, making his face somewhat leveled with the blessing in between your legs. "I'm a big girl, baby, I can handle myself," You continued as you stood before him in nothing but short, tight, black leather shorts that were paired nicely with fishnets and a makeshift crop top. The soft and plush skin of your thick thighs pushed through the holes of the fishnets, he couldn't help but eye you up and down to take in all of your curves. It wasn't until you gently pinched his chin with your thumb and pointer finger that he stopped looking at you, his eyes locking yours before he smirked. "You a big girl, huh?" He chuckled. "Yea, I'm not like those other bitches you used to fuck, I can actually handle it," you smirked as you leaned down closer to him, your hands resting on his arm rests as you bent down. Something about the way your body was bent down and the way your words slipped past your lips, it made his dick jump in his cargo pants. "Alright, show me how much of a big girl you are~"

He forced your words right back down your throat when he barely sinks the tip of his cinnamon brown, 8.5 inch, girthy cock into your soft, tight, little pussy and you start whimpering, panting out tiny little breaths as you feel him slowly stretch you open. "Damn baby, I thought you were a big girl," he chuckled "you can't even get past the tip princess," he cooed as his big form trapped you against the bed, his hand holding his weight up from beside your head as you look up at him with those big, needy, doe eyes. You didn't even have a comeback for his teasing comment, instead a broken whine slipped past your lips. He couldn't help the grunt that came out when your pussy tightened around his tip like a vice in an attempt to force him out. The mixture of your tightness and the sight of your pretty face scrunched up as you tried to inch away from him made his cock twitch as precum spilt out of his tip.

"Fuckk~" you whimpered as he free hand gripped your hip, tugging you back to him with a breathy chuckle, "c'mon princess, don't tap out now, you doing so good f'me," he cooed mockingly, coaxing tears from your eyes as he sunk deeper into your tight pussy. "Poor baby, what's wrong?" He smirked as he reached up, wiping your tears from your cheeks with his thumb. His condescending tone made you want to curl up into a ball, you suddenly felt so much smaller under him, and your sniffing and crying as he sunk farther into you didn't help.

The stretch hurt so much that it left your legs shaking and you clawing at his forearms. You were thankful that Ekko had ditched the his condescendingness, gently coaxing you through it with "your doing so good f'me," and "I got you baby, just a little more," before messily kissing you so deeply that it left your head spinning with love. All whilst holding the back of your knees to your chest, leaving your feet dangling over his shoulders as he watched his cock bully its way into your tight, weeping pussy.

"Shit baby, I bet you wished you listened to me now~" he cooed softly as his eyes rolled back, feeling you clench down on him so hard that he could barely move in you.

After that, you learned to not be so cocky and listen to him…

[bi-writes]

how would arguments go between simon and MOB? i imagine he would never dare raise his voice at her.

simon does not argue with his wife. if you are in danger or something is wrong, i could see him using a little bit of his lieutenant's voice just to get you to listen to him. to "get behind me" or "i'll take care of this, you go." otherwise, there's no resistance. none at all.

"you know, simon, i..." you stop at the door, swallowing. you rub a hand over your forehead, shaking your head. "i...i-i really don't want to go."

he shuffles in his boots, staring at you carefully. you're all dressed up; you've got a new dress on (that he bought you, eagerly), and you've done your makeup. you clutch your purse with clammy hands, and he narrows his eyes when he sees the tremble in your bottom lip. he clears his throat, taking his jacket off. he removes his boots quietly, scratching the back of his neck as he comes close to you to take your bag and hang it up by the door again.

"okay," simon murmurs. "then we won't go."

he doesn't tell you about the cancellation fee.

"'ello?"

"simon!"

he startles awake this time, holding the phone closer to his ear. the sheer anxiety in your voice cuts his gut sharp.

"wot? wot is it? wot happened?"

"i--i totally...i screwed up, simon--oh, god, i'm so sorry--"

"oi!" simon says firmly. "wot happened?"

"i...i'm at the shop, someone was going to back into me, so i swerved, and--"

"fuck," simon breathes. "are ya olright?"

"the car, it's--"

"not wot i asked," simon interrupts you. "are ya hurt?"

"w-what? i..." you sniffle. "no. i'm okay. just a little sore, i guess..."

simon lets out a deep breath, shaking his head.

"i'm coming," simon says lowly. "you stay there, baby. don't move."

"but, simon, the walk is--"

"i'll see ya in twenty."

"oh, no, no, no, no!" you gasp. the orange tabby's head perks up at the sound of your voice at the door. she's got one of simon's masks in her mouth, and even from this distance and without the lights turned on, you can tell the fabric is shredded to bits. it's all over the floor, scattered across the couch, flecks of lint in her fur.

"oh, god, how could you?!" you panic a little. she must have gotten into some kind of drawer or basket or the laundry, because as you start towards her, she darts away, leading you across the house where you can see shreds of more masks and simon's socks strewn about the house. "oh, no!"

the front door closes heavy. when you come into the living room, simon is there, dropping his gear onto the floor. he looks tired--his shoulders sag, and you can see his eyes half-lidded and barely opening.

"simon, i'm...i'm s-sorry, she--"

you're holding his tattered clothes, but before you can say anything more, he grabs you by the shoulders and hugs you so tight. you nearly lose your breath from how he crushes you to his chest, and you let out a quiet whimper when his knees buckle and he falls to the floor with you, cradling your head to his chest and kissing your forehead through the mask over and over.

you're here. you're real. you're alive.

you drop the shredded fabric and hug him back, closing your eyes as you breathe him in. he tips your head back finally, ripping his mask off and kissing you hard.

he doesn't care when he sees the orange cat take a bite of his thrown mask and run away with it.

he can buy a million masks. but his girls--he pulls back from your kiss to stare down at you, intense. he hasn't slept in days, and he hasn't had a decent meal in weeks, camping on different rooftops just to track a shipment, and when that bullet whizzed past his head, all he could think about was you. the cat-bitten plants. the warm food. the cherry dress. some things cannot be replaced.

some brides cannot be ordered again. they don't make them like you.

you are one of a kind.

[lxnarphase]

I NEED MORE FRATBOYS! GETO AND GOJO

✮₊‧⁺...lunar's note: im being self indulgent and im not sorry at all so enjoy a lil blurbie :33

✮₊‧⁺...content: fratboys!stsg x fem!reader, mentions of weed use, breeding kink, wet and messy, dirty talk, overstimulation, dumbification, teasing, degradation, mentions of birth control

"aww...satoru, you're gonna break the poor thing."

suguru's soft hand moves to push some of your hair out of your face, a coo leaving him as he watched your eyes try to focus on him. you're just too cute for your own good, looking up at him with those teary eyes while satoru fucks you like a bunny in heat.

poor thing...you wouldn't be walking right for a while after this.

in a weak attempt to comfort you, suguru leans down after taking a hit from the joint hanging loosely from his fingers, blowing the smoke in your face. he knew it wouldn't do much to help your fucked out state, but you just looked so cute when you pouted at him for it.

"goddamn, satoru. you're fucking her like you're trying to get her pregnant," suguru chuckles as he exhales more smoke out of his nose, eyes following as it dissipates in the air. "stop tryna breed the poor thing , y' gonna kill 'im."

the room goes silent and suguru knows he's made a mistake. making such comments around the satoru gojo only ends up with trouble...

satoru looks down at you, eyes wide and wild, almost looking as if they were glowing.

pregnant?

you can't get pregnant, you're on birth control and never miss a pill, it wouldn't take, he thinks with a huff of a laugh.

but...the thought of trying to knock up his darling best friend who's already fucked so dumb does something to satoru. and that's when it clicks in his brain, his mouth dropping open in a little gasp.

"b-breed...i-i'm gonna fuckin' breed you," he whispers, an evil grin breaking out on his face. "hoooh my fuckin' god, baby girl, i'm gonna breed ya all fuckin' night," satoru groans, lifting your legs up over his shoulders as his hips start to move again.

those broken whimpers and whines from you turn to gasps and hiccupped cries as satoru presses even deeper into you, so desperate to make sure you can't feel, smell, taste, or process anything but his cock abusing your insides.

"'t-toru, s'toruuuu," you drool, plush lips parted as moans constantly pour out from you. "d-don' fuck me like that, i-i'm gonna make a mess! s-s'toruuuu!"

suguru can only hope the music from downstairs is loud enough to cover up the sounds you're making that are accompanied by the nasty, squelching sounds of that tight, sloppy cunt gushing the mixture of your slick and suguru's cum.

but...would that be so bad?

if everyone could hear how cute you sound crying out for both of them? knowing that none of them ever have a chance with you? his thick cock twitches a little, the exhibitionist in him clearly liking through that.

"tsk, tsk, tsk...you both are nasty, y'know that?"

suguru leans back down next to you again, able to watch both of your expressions. the way your body trembles from overstimulation, unsure if you want more pleasure or want a break, your hips jerking with each of satoru's deep, unforgiving thrusts.

"ohh, but you could never be a desperate lil' slut like satoru is, could you, sweet angel? look at those tears...poor thing, we're corruptin' you aren't we?"

he reaches out, brushing away some of the tears just to lick it off his thumb. "you can take it, angel girl, you can take 'toru's big, stupid cock in that pretty little cunt."

he's mean, so so mean and unfair. not just to you, but to satoru too. he's barely holding it together, the mixture of the primal need to fuck a baby into you and the heat in his lower belly from suguru's teasing too much for him.

"fuck, f-fuck, baby, wanna fill y'up, wanna give you my kids! i-i'll take such good care of you, y'know that, right," he pants, voice husky and desperate. those baby blue eyes are unusually dark, watching as his cock disappears inside your creamy cunt over'n'over, a pitiful little whine falling from his lips.

"y-yeah, yeah, yeah, imma...i-imma get you nice and—fuck, don' squeeze yet—a-an' round, mama, then we'll propose at graduation s' everyone knows you're me 'n' sugu's, you wan' that, baby?"

oh, that expression your wearing nearly sends him spiraling into insanity. he can practically see those hearts floating in your eyes as you nod almost drunkenly, your hands shakily finding themselves into his hair.

"m-mm! wan' your baby in me, g-gimme a pretty one," you pout, tugging his hair just right. satoru just lets out a crazed laugh, his eyes wide and manic.

oh boy...what did you just agree to?

"y-yeah? h-hehe, yeah? knew you wanted it, knew y'fuckin' wanted it," he groans, smashing your lips together in a sloppy, wet kiss, tongue sliding against yours noisily. "me 'n' sugu gonna take turns breedin' this pussy, mama, 's okay? never gonna be empty, even after y' get that thing removed, gonna have ya full all. day. long."

suguru just chuckles and shakes his head, one of his hands trailing up satoru's spine. the way his hips stutter inside you is adorable.

"mm, that would be nice. the pretty angel feeling out cum sloshing around her pretty tummy all day in class, having to talk to professors while it drips out of her gooey little cunt, getting those panties all messy? mm, sounds like a dream come true,'' suguru purrs, leaning in closer to satoru's ear.

"who knows...maybe if you cum enough, she won't even have t' stop taking her pills...maybe it won't be able to work if you flood her pussy with enough cum."

you keen as you get folded in half, the tip of his cock knocking again something that makes your tummy squeeze. poor satoru, he's got pleased tears in his own eyes now, just suguru's words nearly making him explode inside, his balls aching, needing to empty themselves inside you where all his cum belonged.

"get deep, get real deep in her, satoru, kiss her cervix f'me, pretty boy...'n' make sure you kiss it niiice and deep when you cum, okay? let's see if we can breed her t'night."

[htchnr]

ミ★ the walls come down ꜜ WARWICK!VANDER.

𖦹 masterlist. 𖦹 buy me a ko-fi!

「 summary,, requested by a lovely anon; could you write a smut fic where Warwick!Vander recognises reader?. 」

「 ꜜcontent,, smut ⋆ unprotected sex ⋆ monster fucking ⋆ belly bulging ⋆ creampie ⋆ overstimulation ⋆ kinda of sweet sex(?) ⋆ sappy and cut off aftercare. ꜜwc,, 1,1k. 」

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐇𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

you don't know how this spiralled the way it did — your back being harshly pressed against the crappy sleeping bag you had dragged into the greenhouse when Viktor let Vander sleep there — his impossibly fat cock filling you up in a way that makes you feel like you're suffocating.

low animalistic grunts and growls sound from him as he hammers his heavy hips into yours, his pace not once faltering. your eyes roll back each time you catch a glance of the clear bulge in your stomach, as your fingers press down against it occasionally Vander lets out a rough snarl. his pace only quickens at the feeling.

" Vander-! slow- " you gasp, your nails digging into his thick and hairy biceps. your finger tips occasionally reach the metal, flinching at the somehow cold metal. " oh fuck! " you cry out as the bullying of your insides causes you to tip over into what you think must be your fourth orgasm by now.

Vander growls at the feeling of your tight, hot and wet walls spasming around him once again. finally, it was enough to tip him over the edge as well — his heavy hips stilling with a brutal final thrust and what could only be described as a roar as he spills his load into you. he buries his head against your chest and you gasp at the feeling, his thick cum leaking out in obscene amounts. you could feel your belly swell with each spurt.

you lay there, occasionally spasming beneath him as you both come down from your intense highs. all you can do is look up at the glass roof, your hands still firmly holding his thick biceps as you feel him take deep and heavy breaths.

" Vander? " you quietly call out, dragging your hand to hold the back of his head.

he lets out a sound, low and rough, akin to what you could only assume to be 'five more minutes' as he nuzzles his face impossibly closer into your chest. you let out a breathy laugh, combing your fingers through the thick fur atop his head. your eyes watch the small twitches from his long ears each time your gently brush against them, mesmerised by this intensely calm version of him.

" okay, you can have five more minutes. " you quietly respond, a tired smile on your lips. Vander lets out a pleased sound and a long exhale. " you better not fall asleep on me big guy, cause i need to get us cleaned up in a minute or two. " Vander makes a displeased sound — typical Vander. even before he was changed he'd love nothing more than to stay buried inside you for as long as he possibly could.

your heart clenches at the thought, and Vander can feel the sudden change in emotion. he grumbles, slowly lifting his heavy head off your chest to look at your face. he tilts his head, a clear 'is everything okay?'. you smile, smoothing your hand down to his cheek. " i'll be okay, now that i have you back again. " you whisper.

Vander's eyes close, a low, sad sound leaving him as he leans down to press his forehead against yours. you close your eyes too, nudging your nose against his much, much larger one.

life was going to be difficult for him to adjust to again, but you think everything will be alright again now that he's here with you.

authors note y'all..... that turned out way sweeter than i intended. i wanted to go crazy with the feral fucking, but honestly i just wanna hold Warwick!Vander and tell him everything will be alright... 😭🫠 act 2 of s2 F U C K E D me U P and i'm gonna slowly heal by writing these Vander fics 😭❤️‍🩹

[em-ontv]

Soothe and pamper.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader

Summary: it had been a long week of hunting, and Dean said he was fine… until you came in, of course.

Content: fluff, Dean being needy and overdramatic (and clingy), no use of y/n, Sam being the third wheel (kind of)

English is not my first language, sorry if there are any mistakes!

Word count: 653

Dean Winchester was a master at the "I'm fine" act. After years of being on the hunt, he could brush off a rough week like it was second nature. So, when Sam asked if he was okay after their latest exhausting hunt, he just scoffed, as usual.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." Dean said, waving a dismissive hand like he was brushing off a pesky fly, as if he hadn't spent the last seven days chasing after demons across two states.

"Quit worrying, Sammy."

Sam raised an eyebrow but didn't press any further. This was like Dean's default setting—deny, deflect, and pretend like everything was cool, even if he looked like he'd been chewed up and spat out.

But then, you walked into the room.

As soon as Dean caught sight of you, his entire demeanor shifted. The tough-as-nails hunter, who moments ago had been shrugging off his brother's concern, let out an over-the-top groan so loud it echoed through the bunker.

You barely had a chance to say a word before Dean threw himself into your arms like a wounded soldier returning from battle.

"This week—oh, you wouldn't believe it!" He buried his face into your shoulder with a pitiful groan, his voice muffled against your shirt. "It's been so bad, baby. So bad."

You could feel the weight of his body sag against yours, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. He nestled his head into the crook of your neck.

It would've been pathetic if it wasn't so funny.

"I don't know how I made it out alive," Dean continued, pulling back just enough to look at you with wide, puppy-dog eyes, his bottom lip sticking out in an exaggerated pout. "The food was nasty, the motel beds were terrible, and don't even get me started on the demons!"

You ran your fingers through his hair as he rambled on, completely lost in the comfort of being with you.

"Do you see this?" He gestured toward his body. "I'm a broken man."

Sam, watching this unfold, rolled his eyes so hard they almost got stuck. "You've gotta be kidding me."

And Dean ignored him completely.

"You're the only one who understands, sweetheart." He whined, clinging onto you like his life depended on it. "Sam's no help, he doesn't get it."

"Dean," you said, struggling to keep a straight face. "You were fine like five seconds ago."

"What are you talking about?" He squeezed you tighter, feigning innocence. "I was just holding it all in. I didn't want to scare Sammy. But now... now I can finally let it all out."

"Uh-huh," you said dryly. "And how much of this is just you wanting to get pampered?"

Dean gasped in mock offense, pulling back to look at you again. "Me? Using my genuine suffering to get pampered? I would never—"

You raised an eyebrow at him.

He hesitated for a second, then smirked. "Okay, maybe a little."

Sam snorted in the background, shaking his head as he headed for the door. "You two are ridiculous," he called over his shoulder before disappearing down the hall.

You sighed, shrugging your shoulders. "Well, what can I do to make it better, Dean?"

He was still leaning heavily into your embrace. "You. Me. Bed. Cuddles... for my emotional well-being, of course."

You smiled slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. "And all your troubles will disappear?"

"Exactly," Dean grumbled, sounding so serious you had to hold back a laugh. "Exactly." He sighed, content now, taking advantage of the situation for all it was worth.

"And if you throw in a back rub, I'll be a whole new man by morning." He added, his lips twitched into a smile.

"Alright, drama queen. But only because I know how hard it is to be you." you laughed softly.

"You're the only one who understands." Dean murmured, his voice filled with gratitude.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

ANIMAL INSTINCT

PAIRING: logan howlett x vampire mutant!female reader

RATING: explicit | WORD COUNT: 2.3k

SUMMARY:

after helping you out by letting you feed from him, logan asks you to return the favor.

part two of bloodthirsty

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

thank you for all the love on bloodthirsty! here’s a nice and smutty second part. big thank you to @guiltyasdave for reading this over for me 💕

TAGS/WARNINGS:

explicit sexual content (18+ mdni), x-men (2000) logan howlett, able bodied reader, vampire mutant!reader, no use of y/n, single POV - reader, primal play (chase/capture), gratuitous use of growling/roaring, light fighting, mentions of blood, biting, rough sex, semi-public sex (in the woods), oral - f receiving, unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms, creampie, dirty talk, blade play (the claws come out).

Logan finds you in an empty hallway one afternoon, about two weeks after your encounter in the kitchen. You made the mistake of making eye contact, leaving you unable to turn and pretend you didn't see him like you've been doing since that night. 

"You avoiding me or something?" he says, hint of a smile on his lips. 

"No," you reply quickly. "What makes you think that?"

"Haven't seen you around much lately."

"Just busy."

"Right." He looks away for a moment, hands on his hips. "Look, I got a proposition for you."

"I don't--"

"I got this issue--," he continues, ignoring your response "--where it gets to be too much, you know? And I helped you out so--"

"What are you talking about?" you interrupt.

His voice drops a bit lower. "We're predators, right? And I don't know about you but sometimes my prey drive can be...too much, if you catch my drift."

"Okay..."

"And I got two words for you - quid pro quo."

You blink at him. "Logan, that's three words."

"I thought pro quo was one word."

"Why would you think that?"

"We're getting off topic," he says, waving his hands. “Think you can help a guy out?"

"Help you...how, exactly?"

You agree to meet Logan at the edge of the dense forest that surrounds the X Mansion at nightfall and as you walk through the grounds blanketed in darkness, your senses begin to feel more alive. Anticipation courses through you and the further you venture from the mansion, the darker the night becomes.

Logan is already there when you arrive, tension rolling off of him in waves. He gives you a tight smile.

"Took you long enough," he says. You roll your eyes.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" You gesture to the forest. "So, what now?"

"You run," Logan replies. "I hunt."

The deep timbre of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. What he's asking for goes against your nature but some deep part of you is eager to please. 

You take off through the trees, running as fast as your legs will carry you across the soft forest floor. With your enhanced speed, it's not long before you're miles from the manicured mansion grounds, surrounded by gnarled roots and a thick canopy of leaves that blocks nearly all light from the moon.

You slow to a stop, catching your breath. The snap of a branch is the only warning you get before Logan's heavy weight barrels into you, sending you both tumbling to the ground with him coming out on top, smiling down at you, a wild glint to his eyes.

"Gotta do better than that, bub," he says. He stands up, holding a hand out to help you to your feet. "I'll give you a head start this time."

"I don't need a head start," you grumble. "I'm faster than you."

He laughs. "We'll see about that."

You start running, his laughter ringing in your ears. Your path is less direct this time, weaving through the trees and doubling back to leave your scent in more places and crossing a small creek with the hopes that the running water helps to cover your tracks. You grow comfortable enough in your lead that you begin to slow down, keeping yourself attuned to the sounds of the forest and any changes that might indicate Logan has found you.

The trees break into a vast clearing, tall grass swaying in the breeze. Moonlight trickles past the branches, stripes of faint light illuminating the floor. You take a moment to appreciate the tranquility of it, but the calm is short lived when you catch movement at the corner of your eye.

Logan steps through the trees. He's removed his shirt, thick muscle glimmering with sweat, his chest heaving with labored breath. Your mouth goes dry at the sight and for a moment you really do understand what it's like to be prey, faced with something so deadly it's almost hypnotizing, impossible to look away even when you’re in danger. He stalks closer and you feel frozen in place, unable to move a muscle.

"Found you," he growls. 

Your survival instinct kicks into gear and you attempt to run away, sprinting across the glade with renewed vigor. If you can make it back into the forest you know you could shake him loose again, but staying in the clearing makes you a clear target. 

Logan roars, the sound loud enough to shake the branches of nearby trees. You risk a glance over your shoulder and are met with the sight of the man on all fours, running towards you with single minded determination. He rapidly closes the distance with impressive speed, wrapping his arms around you and taking you down to the ground for the second time that night.

You grapple with him, landing a kick to his chest that gives you the chance to crawl out from beneath him. He reaches a hand out for your ankle and drags you back toward him, using his weight to hold you in place. You wiggle an arm free and strike at his face, though he dodges and your fingernails scrape against his neck, leaving red gashes in their wake that heal in the blink of an eye. He pins your arm to the ground above your head.

"No more runnin’,” he says, a command that shoots straight to your core. You know he’s not talking about just tonight, but rather how you’ve been avoiding him. 

But how were you supposed to face him when the only thoughts you had of him since then were about how sweet he tasted, how good he felt, how much you wanted more, more, more that you couldn’t possibly ask him to give?

Your inner turmoil is lost when his lips slam against yours in a kiss that’s hot and hungry, stealing your breath with its ferociousness. His teeth sink into your bottom lip and you gasp at the sharp sting of pain that lights up your nerves. There’s nothing gentle about it, but you’re not gentle creatures and the beasts that pace and snarl beneath your ribcage have finally broken free.

Logan breaks the kiss to stare down at you with wild eyes. Blood, your blood, stains his lips and his tongue darts out to lick it away with a satisfied hum. He leans in close, burying his face in your neck, inhaling deeply, mouth open against your skin with the threat of sharp teeth over your racing pulse.

“Can’t hide it,” he says. “Not when I can smell it on you, sweetheart.”

“Smell what?” 

“How much you want it.” He nips at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, making you hiss. “How much you want me.”

Heavy hands find the hem of your shirt, shoving it up your chest until it’s bunched beneath your armpits. He pulls down your bra to expose your breasts and your nipples tighten at the sudden burst of cold air against your skin but his mouth is on you in an instant, warm tongue tracing the taut buds. Your back arches at the sensation and you dig your fingers into his thick hair, pulling at the strands. He hums with pleasure as he switches to your other breast, giving it the same maddening attention.

His palm slides down your belly, fingers dipping beneath the elastic of your leggings and finding your needy center, swirling through the mess you’ve already made in your underwear. You can feel the smug grin on Logan’s face before he even lifts his head to look at you.

“That’s what I thought.” He withdraws his hand, holding it up to his face. In the moonlight you catch a glimpse of the strands of slick stretching between his index and middle finger before he sticks them in his mouth with a groan, licking them clean. “Fuck, you taste better than I imagined.”

The metallic sound of his claws unsheathing reaches your ears and your pulse jumps as he drags the blunt side of a single blade up the inside of your thigh. The tip catches on the fabric covering your pussy and with one quick move of his wrist he slices through your pants. His claw disappears and he reaches down with both hands to tear the fabric further.

Logan settles on his belly with his head between your thighs, your legs propped up on his broad shoulders. He kisses your pussy over the soaked fabric of your underwear but

spares you any further teasing, grabbing your panties in a tight fist and pulling roughly until the elastic snaps against your skin and he holds the torn fabric in his fist. He tosses them aside and buries his face in your cunt, devouring you like a man on a mission. His tongue alternates circling your sensitive clit and dipping into your dripping entrance, expertly tracing every inch of you. You’re so lost to the pleasure that you don’t notice him getting to his knees until he’s lifting your hips, hands gripping your ass tightly to keep your lower body suspended in the air and his mouth sealed to your cunt.

“Fuck!” you cry out, muscles growing tense as your orgasm builds. It hits you like a tidal wave, coursing through your veins as you shout his name like a prayer. His hold remains tight as he works you through it until you grow boneless in the aftermath.

He lowers you slowly back to the ground and you fight to catch your breath while he quickly removes his belt and shoves his jeans down enough to free his cock. You watch him take himself in hand, a brief slide of his fist over his impressive length before he runs the glistening head through your sensitive folds, bumping your clit and making you shiver.

Logan’s gaze remains fixed to yours as he presses forward, breaching your tight entrance. Your body accepts him greedily, the slight sting and stretch barely a thought when all you can focus on is how full he makes you feel.

His lips find yours for a messy kiss while he begins to thrust, a slow drag of his cock from your body followed by a sharp snap of his hips that punches the air from your lungs. You cling to his shoulders, clawing at his skin. The scent of his blood invades your senses and your teeth begin to ache at the memory of his taste. 

Your teeth catch on his lip and he hisses but doesn’t pull away. Copper blooms across your taste buds and you can’t help the desperate moan that escapes into the kiss.

“Come on, baby,” Logan says. “Take a bite.”

You rest a palm on the back of his head, urging him closer, lifting your head and kissing his neck, licking the salty taste of him from over his fluttering pulse. You open your mouth, sinking your teeth into skin and muscle and vein until warm blood spills into your mouth. The combination of his blood on your tongue and his cock spreading you open sends you over the edge.

Above you, Logan growls, a deep rumble you can feel down to your marrow, some ancient part of you preening with excitement. He holds himself still as you clench around him. Your orgasm slowly subsides and you find the strength to unclench your tense jaw from his neck, gently licking at the blood that spills from the deep impressions of your teeth.

Logan sits up, cock slipping from your body and leaving you achingly empty. His hands grip your hips, forcefully turning your lax body over and hiking your ass into the air. He spreads your cheeks and the vulnerable position has your whole body growing hot.

“Hope you didn’t think we were done,” he tells you as he positions himself behind you, thrusting his length back into your body and setting a brutal pace that has you crying out into the night. 

One hand holds your hip with bruising force while the other settles on your shoulder, pulling you into every delicious snap of his hips. Your mind goes blissfully blank with the overwhelming pleasure building up inside of you for the third time.

He folds forward, his chest pressed to your back and his pace growing sloppy as he nears his own release. A hand curls around yours, a moment of intimacy that leaves you reeling.

Logan roars, hips slamming into a final time, dragging your last orgasm from you as his cock pulses with his release inside of you. A sharp pain on your hip makes you gasp and you notice his claws have extended from the hand wrapped around yours, sinking into the dirt.

“Shit,” he pants, sitting up after a moment. The loss of his heat makes you shiver. “I nicked you.”

You slowly move yourself into a seated position, muscles feeling like jelly, and inspect the area that the pain came from. Your leggings have a new slice in the fabric and the material is sticky with blood but to your surprise, there’s no wound to be found.

“You heal that quick?” Logan asks. You shake your head.

“Not usually.” You run your fingers over smooth skin. “Must have been your blood.”

“You think so?”

You shrug. “Just a guess. Never fed from someone with advanced healing factor.”

“You sayin’ I’m your first?” he asks with a smirk. You can’t help the laugh that escapes and his smirk stretches into a grin. Logan stands, fixing his pants and holding a hand out to help you up. 

“How am I supposed to get back into the mansion like this?” you ask, gesturing to your destroyed leggings. 

“Guess I didn’t think that through,” he admits. “Give me a few minutes and I can be back with some new clothes.”

“How are you going to get into my room?”

He turns to look at you, continuing to walk backwards.

“I’m a man of many talents.”

With a wink, he disappears through the trees. You sigh.

What have you gotten yourself into?

Thank you for reading!

LINKS

all masterlists | logan howlett masterlist | support for palestine