#i know he's gotta be SOLID as hell

[andy-clutterbuck]

Rick's leather sling | requested by EVERYONE

[flowerakatsuka]

kuroba not liking to talk about their time in high school and the one yotsubana florals employee that's actively attending akatsuka high hating kara's guts so he refuses to tell him where he goes to school is doing a lot of legwork when it comes to the whole " kurokara don't realize they went to school together until the reunion " situation.

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.3

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]

“Aquaman.” Batman swept into the room, beelining straight for the suddenly apprehensive Atlantean king.

“Batman. What can I do for you?”

“Phantom. Does he pay taxes?”

“Pardon?”

Batman makes a low noise that had Aquaman’s danger senses buzzing.

“Does Phantom have to pay taxes. Towards Atlantis.”

“No…? Why?”

“He wanted money, in exchange for… information, of a delicate sort,” Batman said, diplomatically avoiding the topic of Phantom bargaining for the identities of corpses in exchange for a measly $100 dollars per identity. Like a flea market dealer, that one was.

“You encountered Phantom again?” Aquaman perked up.

“Yes. Gotham’s bay is… polluted.” Batman paused. “With victims. Of murder.”

The entire area quieted as heads turned towards the Dark Knight.

“Yes, I am… distantly aware of Gotham’s waters.” By that, Aquaman gets green around the gills whenever he turns his awareness in that direction. There’s a reason he doesn’t enter Gotham, and the Dark Knight’s ban is only half of that reason. “Ah, but you’re correct. For what purpose would Phantom need mortal currency?”

“Hn.”

“Maybe he needs some stuff?” Flash zipped to a stop next to Batman, feet tapping as he dug into the pile of snacks cradled in his arms. “Us mortals are always coming up with new things, maybe he wants to try some games or something?”

Batman tilted his head down, seriously considering Flash’s suggestion. “It’s plausible.”

“Barry, Barry, Barry. He’s old as hell, right? He probably wants to try the new booze!”

“Hal, my man!” Flash fist bumped Green Lantern, who came up. “You’re back! What happened to John?”

“Dunno. He got called somewhere that way,” Green Lantern waved a vague hand towards the left. “Had to deal with a politician or something from that area.” He shrugged, swinging an arm over Barry’s shoulders to put him in a headlock and stealing a chip.

“Huh. Anyways, would our mortal alcohol even work on a demi-god or something?”

“We should ask!” Hal turned towards Batman. “You should ask if he wants to go for a drink, spooky!”

“He’s a child.”

“He’s been around for more than a millennia, Bats.”

“Informational gathering, right, Hal?” Flashgot out of the headlock, quickly munching on his snacks to stop Green Lantern from stealing them.

“Totally. Yup.”

“…Fine.”

“Wait, are we just gonna ignore that Gotham’s waters are full of bodies?”

“Yes.”

——

“What?” Danny asked, mind half on the bags he’s dragging out of the water and the other half on the essay he has to submit in about four hours.

“Green Lantern wanted to invite you out for a drink.”

Danny turned to the stoic Gotham knight, who had his wrist computer out to log the bodies’ info the moment Danny gave him the information. Some of them even told Danny who murdered them, so Batman could start building cases with solid leads.

Danny’s only twenty. He’s not legal yet but he doesn’t want to give any clues to who he is. How is he supposed to…

Ah!

“Can’t.” Danny shrugged. “I’m not legal. I died when I was fourteen so…” Danny trailed off, speechless at the drowned puppy face Batman was giving him. What the fuck.

“Anyways, fork over my payment.”

Batman wordlessly hands him a wad of hundreds.

“What do you need cash for?” Batman suddenly asked.

“Huh? Isn’t it obvious?” Danny tucked it in. “Material things, obviously. I need a blanket,” because holy shit, Gotham is damn cold this time of year. “Anyways, see you same time next week, litterer.”

“I don’t litter.”

“Tell that to the batarangs I found under the water,” Danny grumbled. “But I’ll stop calling you that if you get a signature from Poison Ivy. I have a friend who loves her.”

“An alive friend?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy?”

Danny snickered and disappeared. He’s gotta cram that essay.

——

“There’s a possibility Phantom might be homeless.”

“Batman, I mean this in the nicest way, but for the love of Atlantis, please stop giving me headaches. It’s time like these I wish I stayed a lighthouse keeper.”

[dreamsteddie]

AITA Steddie Au Part Three

Part Two

Hello! Sorry for the delay! This week was very busy with student conferences and my own midterms so I haven't had a lot of time to work on this. This is more of an interlude building up to bigger things, but I hope you enjoy it!

Also! Get in the comments if you have any ideas of an actual name for this series so I can stop calling it AITA Steeddie Au. I can't think of anything good 😓

------

Eddie takes Steve on that second date.

And then a third and a fourth and eventually he stops counting because he's seeing Steve as often as he can between their jobs and other responsibilities. He feels high off it, giddy with possibility and hope for this new thing that he's never had before.

Eddie has done relationships before, a couple of times. A small handful of boys and girls he took out on dates and tried his best to woo all went up in flames one way or another, but none of those relationships left him feeling so gone so fast. He felt like he was always holding himself back from giving himself up completely, too afraid of falling without a safety net to reach for that deep devotion he's always craved.

Steve makes him feel like they're plunging into that unknown together.

Still, no matter how much he's been trying to avoid it, the looming specter of what the hell to do about his friends is looming over his head.

------

"Are you fucking serious right now dude?" Eddie asks, a complicated mix of righteous anger, humiliation for himself and Steve, and complete disbelief at Gareth's unwillingness to back down from this making it increasingly difficult to keep his cool.

"Look man, all I'm saying is that Steve is like, the complete antithesis of literally everything we stand for. He's a nepo baby business major who's never had an original thought in his life! I would know! I've read one of his papers." Gareth says, forced nonchalance coloring his tone and riling Eddie up even more.

He rears up, shoulders pushing back and hands grasping at the air like he could pull down his frustration from the either and condense it into a solid ball he could lob at Garteth's head to finally knock some goddamn sense into his brain.

"Hey, hey, hey. Okay, Eddie, I'm really sorry about this. It was a fucked up idea, I don't know what we were thinking." Jeff interveins before the frustrated banshy noises Eddie is letting out turn into another yelling match that won't get anyone anywhere.

"I think we just got too caught up wanting to help you get out of this rut and it all turned into something completely insane. You don't gotta forgive us Eddie, but if there's anything we can do to try and make up for it, we'll do it. Isn't that right Gareth?" Jeff pointedly asked with a look that says agree with me right now or else.

Gareth doesn't say anything.

The thing about all of this that Eddie just can't wrap his head around is the why. Why would his friends, his sheepies, do something so cruel? He knows none of them have ever looked kindly at people like Steve. Too many traumatizing high school humiliations behind them all to trust when someone who looks so much like all the guys who bullied them in high school tries to reach out, but Gareth and Jeff have never tried something like this. In fact, it's used to be Eddie doing most of the anti-jock revenge planning back in the day, even if nothing ever actually came from it.

He thought, incorrectly it seems, that they had grown out of the worst of it by now. It's been three years since Garteth graduated, and five since Eddie made his final attempt, and leaving their hometown behind did a lot to heal old hurts.

So why this? Why now?

"Is this seriously how it's going to be man? You won't tell me what the fuck any of this was really about and you're not even going to try and apologize? Seriously?" The righteous anger is starting to seep out of him, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion.

Gareth just continues to stare at him defiantly, not saying a word.

Eddie pinches his nose and takes a deep breath, "You know what? Fine. Whatever. If this is how it's going to be then I'm out. Jeff, I'll talk to you later, probably not for a little bit though. Gareth?" The other man lifts his head from where he'd been looking down at his shoes. There were tears in his eyes, just a little bit but enough for Eddie to clock it. Face red from some unnamed cocktail of emotions Eddie doesn't have the energy or desire to interrogate right now. "Call me when you're ready to grow the fuck up. I've got a second date to plan."

With that, Eddie turned on his heel and made for the open garage door.

"What about the band, man?!" Gareth called.

Eddie kept walking.

-------

That was over four weeks ago.

He hasn't spoken to Gareth for most of that time. The first couple of days he blew up his phone with angry to half-apologizing texts that Eddie promptly ignored. After the second day, he sent a single text back letting him know he didn't want to talk unless he had a real explanation and apology to give both him and Steve and that he was going to block his number for a little while. He could let Freak know if he was ever ready to talk like adults. Eddie trusted him to tell if Gareth was being genuine.

In other news.

Waking up to strong arms secured around his naked waist is fast becoming Eddie's favorite way to start the day. He and Steve slept together for the first time last week, and since then it's like neither of them can get enough of each other.

"Hey, baby." Steve rasps in his ear, tilting his head down to smear sleepy kisses onto his shoulder. The hand that was resting against his ribs meanders its way down to the trail of hair under his navel, scratching just a little and making Eddie feel like a contented mutt. He's not sure if he should feel horny or like he could sink into the mattress and sleep for another full 8 if Steve keeps holding him like his.

"Mornin' sweetheart." he says deciding that a couple more hours of sleep is definitely the way to go. Steve, it seems, has other idead.

"What you thinkin' about this early in the morning?" He asks, hand continuing to scratch lazily at Eddie's stomach like he's not completely destroying Eddie's will and ability to focus on anything but the warm body behind him.

But it's been a long time coming, and as much as he doesn't want to, Eddie needs to start thinking about what he wants to do about his friends? former friends? estranged family? band and Steve deserves to be a part of the conversation.

Eddie sits up, bringing Steve up with him to rest against the headboard. "I've been thinking about the band. Gareth and Jeff, that is." He pauses, waits for some kind of reaction that doesn't come. Steve looks concerned, but not in the way he thought he would.

"Ok." Steve responds, waiting for more.

"I guess I just don't know what to do." He looks out into the middle distance of Steve's bedroom. Takes in the display of swim, basketball, and baseball trophies displayed proudly on a shelf, catching the early morning light. "I'm still so fucking mad. It's honestly kind of irritating how mad it makes me to think of what they did. It was so fucking stupid."

Steve hums a little, letting Eddie get it out.

"But at the same time I can't help but fucking miss them. Miss the music and the campaigns and everything else." It's honestly been eating him alive, the mix of anger and longing he's been feeling for his friends. The constant longing to go back in time and stop them from concocting this shit show but also, like, stalk Gareth to his 8 AM Business class so he can run into Steve and they can fall in love at first sight or some shit.

Silence.

Steve shifts. Moves so he can look Eddie right in the face. He looks thoughtful in a way that Eddie had to get used to. Sometimes when Steve is thinking hard about something, he scrunches his face in such a way that it makes him look like he's judging you. He isn't, it's just an unfortunate fact of life that his baby has a resting Judgemental Face™.

Steve heaves out a big breath, bringing Eddie back down to earth. "I mean, I don't want to, like, cloud your judgement or whatever but maybe you should try and talk to them one more time. Jeff appologized right?"

And, ok that's definetly not what Eddie was expecting to hear. It must show on his face because Steve is suddenly looking away, embaraced.

"I just..." He trails off, taking his own turn staring out at the dull shine of his old acomplishments. Eddie watches as his face once again turns pensive as he stares harder at the remnents of his high school acheivements.

"I used to be a pretty shitty guy. Did the same kind of shit your buddies did a couple of times." This isn't necessarily news to Eddie. They've talked a little about who Steve was in high school and how much work he put into himself before he decided to go back to college. It's still a bit of a shock to hear, though.

"So I get how someone can make a mistake like that, y'know? So if you want to try and talk it out, I won't be offended. I know we're in this together, now." Peace said, Steve reaches for Eddie's hand and gives it a squeeze.

It hits Eddie again, just how good Steve Harrington is. It hasn't been long, not really, since they got together but they've fallen together so completley, so easily, that it's easy to forget that there's still so much they have to learn, so many layers for Eddie to peal back. Behind every judgemental remark and complaint about the frequent phone calls he gets from chuldren he used to babysit in his hometown is a man who cares deeply and is capable of great forgiveness, even if it hasn't been earned yet.

Eddie squeezes his hand back.

"Are you sure?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, it's not we have to totally forgive them, right? But I think you need to get a real answer from both of them about why it happened. Maybe you can find a way past it, maybe they'll say something that puts the nail in the coffin." He responds.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and thinks.

Steve is right. Eddie isn't satisfied with any of the answers he got last time, and he knows that there has to be more to the story than "trying to get Eddie out of a rut" and he's not going to be able to put any of this to rest until he understands.

"Ok, yeah. I'll call them." Steve gives him an encouraging smile at that, rubbing the back of Eddie's hand where they haven't let go yet.

"Good, I'm glad. And I can come with you if you want. Hit em from both sides." he says. Eddie think's he'll take him up on that offer, but right now he had more imporant things to do. Namely, tackling his sweet boyfriend onto the mattress and having a mid morning tousle.

"We'll see. Right now I've got more imporant things to do." He says in his best aproximation of a sultry voice. He doesn't know how good it really is, but it seems to work based on the way Steve's eyes get hooded and he looks down at Eddie's mouth.

Gotcha.

Before Steve can lean down and kiss him, Eddie snaps his hands down to his boyfriend's sides in a well executed tickle atack. Steve immedietly jolts and starts howling with laughter, yelling between breaths that Eddie is "a fucking asshole" as he continues his relentless atacks.

Eventually, Steve manages to regain his bearings and go on the offence, turning them over and trapping his boyfriend's hands beneath his knees so he can atack Eddie's equally ticklish sides.

Once the late morning has passes into early noon and they've both settled back into Steve's signifigantly more rumpled be, Eddie takes one more moment to think about the furute to come before he shelves it. He knows that whatever conversation is to come, it won't be easy, and even if things go as smoothly as possible with Gareth and Jeff, things will never be the same between them all.

Looking down at Steve, who is sporting the most outrageous bedhead in human history, laughing at the stream of reals Robin sent him in the middle of the night, he thinks he'll be okay either way.

Tag List

@wheneverfeasible @the-dark-hearts @sofadofax @wrenisfangirling @whatfinestandsfor @lilpomelito @raisedbylibrarians @ollyxar @mugloversonly @xxbottlecapx @hezaaxdexangelous @kimsnooks @that-one-gay-crow @travelingtwentysomething @shoujo-wizard @stripey82 @live-laugh-love-dietrich @cr0w-culture @notaqueenakhaleesi @bookworm0690 @r0seprincess @estrellami-1 @little-annie @dreamercec @tinyplanet95 @rawrx3ky-txt @bexinator3000 @justalittledrainbamage @scarletyeager @themoonagainstmers @yesdangerpls @mydysfunctionallife @maverickricky @silentiumdelirium @i-amthepizzaman @samsoble @foolishness-and-confusion @dragonmama76 @gregre369 @thewickedkat @lexr86 @martinskis-lydias

[brattyfics]

Sins of The Flesh

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC [Riley]

Wordcount: 3,000+

Warnings: 18+ Minors Do Not Interact, No physical description of OC other than her being black, Spanking, D/S Dynamics, Mentions of Heaven/Hell, Alternate Universe (Mike Is Alive), Bratty!OC, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, a tiny bit of Degradation Kink, No P in V, Slight Angst

A/N: Divider by fireflygraphics. Special shoutout to @megamindsecretlair who inspired me to write something for the first time in too long. Thank you!

Riley was the picture-perfect Southern belle. With a preacher for a father and a teacher for a mother, she always kept up her manners in public. But behind closed doors, she had a talent for getting into trouble—and her relationship with Terry Richmond was no different.

He was her very own Black G.I. Joe—six feet, four inches of solid muscle. Intense, stormy green eyes and the face of an Adonis. A flawless specimen—and completely hers.

That morning, she woke up with a familiar ache in her belly. Terry had been gone the entire week to celebrate his cousin Mike’s homecoming, while she stayed behind due to a special work project. It had been seven long days without so much as a touch from the man who couldn’t keep his hands off her whenever they were alone.

He'd returned late Saturday, slipping into bed quietly to avoid waking her.

It was Sunday morning, and as the preacher’s daughter, she knew she had to be at her best. But sleep had eluded her. The rollers she wore to sleep were uncomfortable, and she never slept well when Terry wasn’t there. She woke up feeling restless, only to turn over and see him.

He was bare-chested, the morning light making his skin glisten. The bedsheets were pushed down to his hips, and the outline of his body was impossible to ignore. Her mouth watered.

When her gaze finally made its way up to his face, his eyes were already on her. Terry was always up by six, but some days, he'd stay in bed a little longer just for her.

She kissed her way up his body, starting from his neck and working toward his lips, straddling him.

“Mornin’, baby,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly, making her heart flutter. His green eyes framed by naturally long lashes—lashes she spent a hundred dollars a month trying to replicate—fixed on hers. He pulled her down for a tight hug, his lips finding her jaw. She sighed, feeling his strength encase her. 

“What time did you get in? I missed you,” she admitted, feeling a little foolish. She was a grown woman, had spent most of her adult life without him, but sometimes it felt like she couldn’t breathe without him there.

His facial hair, grown in during the week they’d been apart, tickled her skin as he nuzzled into her neck—a silent way of saying, "I missed you too."

They lay there for a few moments before he stirred. One arm wrapped around her back, the other reaching for his phone on the nightstand. “We gotta get up. It’s almost eight.”

She groaned. “It’s too early.”

She was up before sunrise on workdays, but weekends were different.

“Come on, we have to.” He patted her back gently.

“Excuse you…” She sat up, crossing her arms with her legs still draped over his hips. “You just got back and you're bossing me around. You haven’t even kissed me yet.”

He wouldn’t admit it, but he loved how spoiled she could act sometimes. She knew he’d give her the world if she asked, and it boosted his ego to know she trusted him that much—knew, deep down, he would always protect and care for her.

“Oh, you think you’re running the show now?” he teased, raising a brow. She bit her lip, debating how to respond. Terry Richmond wasn’t the type of man to play petty games with, but she liked to do it every now and then, just to keep things interesting.

“Duh. I thought you knew.”

He let out a deep laugh from his core, right in her face. She huffed and tried to move away from his lap, but in an instant, he had rolled them over, pinning her beneath him as they both giggled.

“Who gave you command?”

His hand wrapped gently around her neck, and the playful moment turned serious. He positioned himself between her legs, morning wood pressed against her thigh, and her face flushed.

“You did.” She swallowed hard, remembering the last time they were in this position—his hand firm around her throat as he took control. The unspoken command hung in the air: tell me what I want to hear, and I’ll give you what you want.

He raised an eyebrow, “Me?”

“Yeah,” She smirked, “You disappeared so I had to improvise.” Her voice softened, teasing but with a warmth that hinted she missed him. “Maybe don’t leave me hanging next time, huh?”

He shook his head with a chuckle, then his lips crushed against hers, the kiss demanding, until her thoughts were consumed by him and only him. Her back arched, hips shifting as she sought him out. His hand found her neck again as he slowly pulled away, as if it pained him to stop.

“We gotta get up. I let you miss another Sunday, and your dad will never let me live it down.”

His sudden shift in tone made her scowl, especially as he tapped her legs to free himself from her grip. “Why are you talking about my father right now?”

“Get up.” His tone tolerated no dissent, and she reluctantly allowed him to pull her to her feet.

She followed him into the guest bathroom, where he'd gone to shower in peace. She dragged her soapy hands down his back, teasing him, offering to help him dry off but using it as an excuse to grope him instead. He wouldn’t give in. She spent the rest of the morning testing his resolve, brushing against him as he scrambled their eggs, and bending at the waist to give him a peek under her slip after "accidentally" dropping the house keys.

By the time they reached the church parking lot, a frown lingered on her made-up face, fading only as they approached the church doors, where she transformed into the picture-perfect preacher’s daughter.

Smiling, saying all the right things, all the while thinking about Terry. It wasn’t right, thinking these things in church, but she couldn’t help it. She prayed for forgiveness but couldn’t stop herself from reminiscing about him—the way he drove her to the brink of madness, how good he always made her feel. 

The singing of hymns and the preaching faded into the background as she focused on the analog clock hanging above the pulpit. Church seemed to drag on even longer than usual, as if the universe were conspiring with Terry to tease her to death. He sat there, as tempting as the devil, his button-up shirt clinging to his muscular arms and thick thighs defined even in slacks.

By the time they reached the car, she felt like she was on the verge of catching fire. She’d waved hurriedly at her parents before dragging Terry out the church doors, complaining about the traffic. She was sure her mom would call her and fuss about it later, but she’d deal with that when the time came. He didn’t say a word until they were driving down the main road, his eyes glancing over at her.

“You’ve been acting wild all day. You that desperate for my dick?”

“What?” 

“You heard me. You want it that bad?” He repeated himself, a sly smirk playing on his lips. Her mouth hung open as she processed his words. In the bedroom, he was her Daddy—dominant, demanding, intense. A bit of a bedroom bully, but never harsh. She was his princess, and he treated her like one. Terry didn’t usually talk to her like this, but she couldn’t deny the heat that pooled between her legs at his words.

She wished she had something clever to say, but the truth was that her desire for him ran deeper than he could ever realize. “I can’t help it,” she admitted, leaning over the center console to caress his leg. She gave him those Bambi eyes and spoke softly. “I need you, baby.” 

“I get it. I've been counting down the days too,” He promised. His voice was steady and calm—too calm—while she felt like she was on the edge. He had unbuttoned the top of his shirt when they got in the car, and all she could think about was undoing the rest. The way the water had cascaded down his chest this morning was sinful. Her thighs clenched together subconsciously. 

“I need more than just talk right now,” She grumbled, remembering how he had rejected her earlier that morning. She’d wanted him so badly that she dropped to her knees, promising to make it worth his while. But he remained composed, pulling her back up for a soft kiss on the corners of her mouth. “Later,” he had promised.

All week, she had struggled to concentrate at work, her thoughts consumed with him. And now that he was back, he didn’t seem in any hurry to change that. He should have woken her up last night, church be damned— The same way he did any other night he wanted to be inside her. Her hand inched up to his thigh and squeezed.

When her fingertips grazed his dick, he gently grabbed her hand and lifted it from his lap. “Relax,” he warned, his voice adopting that stern tone she usually loved. But now, it just grated on her nerves. Terry Richmond—who was always so eager—was telling her to relax about sex. How many mornings had he insisted on having her before he left for work? How many days had he stalked her around the house, grabbing her any way he wanted? How many nights had he promised to “do all the work” if she just let him inside?  

She kissed her teeth and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring out at the cars ahead. He was full of it.

“What’s this? You got an attitude now?”

She snapped before she could stop herself. “What do you think, Terry?” Aggravation burned in her chest, and his eyes widened at her tone. Apparently, his week away had been too long—she had lost her damn mind. 

“Any other time, you can’t get enough of me, and now you’re acting like I’ve got the cooties. What’s going on with you?”

“What are you trying to get at?” he asked, sounding annoyed, and it was clear on his face. She stared back at him as his gaze flicked between her and the road, as if her eyes could uncover whether he had been faithful. She trusted Terry, but she already knew Mike’s wild ass had plenty of strippers and trouble around. 

What else was she supposed to think? Terry was only a man after all. 

“For real?” he replied, meeting her suspicious gaze. “You think I’d do you like that?” 

Her stomach flipped. In her heart, she felt one thing, but her head was a different monster altogether. She had a tendency to overthink and jump to conclusions. Terry usually made her feel so secure that it wasn’t an issue. “So, just because I’m not moving fast enough for you, I must be cheating, huh?” He looked at her like a wounded lion.

“I don’t know, Terry,” she shifted her gaze away from him, knowing she had overreacted. “I’m just frustrated, okay?” The silence that fell between them felt heavy. She knew she had made a mistake. “I’m sorry,” she added, her voice softening. “I know you’re not like that; I was just... I don’t know.”

Just like Muni Long, she wished for a Time Machine.

The sting of her accusation settled in his gut. He couldn’t begin to understand why she would doubt him after everything they’d been through.

Terry remained silent for the rest of the ride. Not even when he parked the car, opened her passenger door, and unlocked the house did he say a word. He let her in first, just like always, but the usual kisses to her neck were absent. Instead, he slipped off to the guest room to change while she undressed in their shared bedroom, feeling like a brat. The pretty polka dot dress and brand new stockings he should have been removing only added to her sadness.

She removed her makeup in a somber mood, then finally made her way to the living room when she could no longer put it off. Terry had changed into a T-shirt and shorts, sprawled across the couch while fiddling with the remote, flipping through channels she knew he wasn’t interested in at all.

She settled onto his lap, her thighs gripping him to keep him close. He avoided her gaze until she cupped his face in her hands, gently forcing him to meet her eyes. There was a storm brewing, one that she had caused. “Don’t be like that,” she pleaded.

She rested her head against his broad chest, cuddling into the warmth beneath her. With her chin snuggled comfortably, she gazed up into his eyes. “I’m sorry. I was wrong– so wrong. I know who you are and that you wouldn’t hurt me. Please forgive me. I was trippin’.”

He took a deep breath and ran a hand across his low fade, trying to process his emotions. “You really scared me with that.” He grabbed her hand and held it tightly. “I need you to understand that it’s not easy for me to shake off what you said. I love you, but I need to know you trust me.”

“I do. I promise I do, baby. I just lost my head for a minute there. You mean everything to me.”

“Okay,” he conceded after a minute, “Just keep your head in the game, alright? Stick with me. We’re good.” Terry’s habit of framing their relationship in sports terms never failed to make her smile.

"You got it, coach," she teased, then added playfully, "Oh wait—Sir, yes sir," as she offered a mock salute.

“You always know just how to push my buttons, don’t you?”, he asked. “That’s alright, though, because you’re still under my command, recruit.” He delivered a series of sharp smacks to her behind without warning. Riley gasped as she felt the sting of each slap. 

"Terry, stop," she protested, trying to push him away, but he was unyielding.

“Nah, baby,” he whispered against her lips, staring her directly in the eyes, “You got a little too bold and need a reminder of who’s running things.”

Her stomach flipped as she realized what was happening. She had been getting more mouthy as the day went on, testing how far she could go. Now it was time for Terry to put her in her place, and while that was always fun, she knew he wouldn’t go easy on her.

As if reading her mind, Terry pulled back slightly, his gaze fierce and focused. "You know I love you, baby," he uttered softly. “But sometimes, a firm hand is needed to keep us in line.”

She nodded, a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. A spanking hadn’t been a part of her agenda for the day. All she wanted was to come home, have him in their bed,  and make up for lost time, then pretend to watch TV for a little before she rode him to oblivion. But she had ruined that by being impatient. She knew that Terry was right – she had crossed a line today, and this was exactly what she needed.

Taking a deep breath, she eased into him, allowing him to maneuver her over his lap as he repositioned them on the couch. The muted sounds of the TV faded into the background as they got comfortable, her shorts rustling quietly as he pulled them down to her ankles. 

“I get that you’re used to having things your way, but that ain't how it works with me,” Terry advised, palming her ass cheeks in each hand. He took his time jiggling the fat there before his hand came down on one side and then the other. Terry was heavy handed, making sure she felt him deep in her soul. She hissed, already reaching back to cover her bottom. 

"Gimme your hands," he ordered, locking both of them in one of his own.

Terry started spanking her in earnest, and Riley felt every bit of it— the sharp sting as his hand met her skin, the heat radiating across her backside, and the firm pressure of his arms keeping her steady. 

“I’m so sorry,” She whined, squirming in his lap. “I didn't mean it!” He took a breath, grabbed her chin, and locked his gaze on her to make sure she heard him loud and clear. “I know you didn’t plan for this, but you still deserve this punishment. You gotta do better, ma.”

He went back to smacking her ass all wild, hitting it from every possible angle. “Fuck!” She cursed, getting lost in the pain and the pleasure. If the folks at church knew she had a mouth like this, she'd be too embarrassed to show her face again. With each smack, her thoughts become increasingly scrambled, swirling in a delicious haze. It didn’t help that Terry was talking her through it the entire time. 

“Remember I’m doing this because I love you.”

“You need to find some middle ground before you take things to the next level. You understand me?”

“Stay exactly like that, don’t move.”

“I know it hurts. It’s supposed to.”

“Here, grab this pillow.”

She moaned and groaned her protests but Terry was too strong and she had earned this ass whooping. She knew there was nothing left to do but surrender. Terry had her and she could let go of all her worries and concerns. She just needed to ride it out. 

As the spanking continued, Riley’s breathing grew more ragged until she was breathless. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. She apologized fervently each time his hand came down on her ass, sobbing when he gave her a small reprieve, rubbing her lower back gently. “You’re okay. We’re almost done. Are you really as sorry as you’re claiming?”

“Yes, Daddy,” She whimpered, already imagining how sore she’d be the next day, hobbling into her good government job with a bruised backside. She had bit off way more than she could chew and now needed his mercy.

“Repeat after me,” Terry commanded, his tone leaving room for argument. “Say ‘I’ll be a good girl and listen.’” She immediately complied, her voice shaky but sincere as she echoed his words, fully embracing the promise behind them. “I understand that the next time I do it, Daddy is going to spank my disobedient ass all over again..” She repeated his words like a well-trained parrot, and at the moment, it was all she could manage.

She felt lightheaded by the time Terry finished spanking her, and she couldn’t recall the last thing he’d said. She had hit her breaking point.  

She laid there for several minutes, completely spaced out, and focused only on catching her breath. Terry massaged her scalp with his fingertips as they both came down from the natural high of their chemistry. Eventually, Terry lifted her up to meet his gaze, being mindful not to agitate her already bruised bottom.

“You good?” 

Her head was still reeling. She wanted to shrink into a little ball, but she also wanted to live in his skin. How could she express that to him without sounding unhinged? Terry massaged her back in gentle, calming circles until he sensed her start to unravel. She eventually nodded slowly, acknowledging that yes, she was okay— physically at least, even if her emotions were still in a disarray. 

“I’ll do better,” she promised, her voice barely above a whisper, thick with exhaustion.

"That’s my good girl," he said, gently wiping away tears from her cheekbone as his expression softened. Despite what she might think, he didn’t get as much satisfaction from spanking her as she believed. It was just something he had to do.

“Come on, pretty. I’ll fill the tub up for you, and then we can order brunch from your favorite spot.”

Forgive me for any mistakes. I had to post this before I lost my nerve, lol. This started as something completely different but I'm happy with how it turned out. Let me know what you think! For more Terry Richmond fics by other amazing young ladies, please check out my Terry Richmond fic rec tag.

Part 2

[wonderjanga]

Marvel and the Supernatural

Basically some Marvel interactions with supernatural creatures. I think he would be really friendly with some and, you know, not as friendly to others.

Marvel: “Sorry, guys. I gotta head out early.”

Flash: “Dude, why? I wanna see a drunk Marvel!”

Aquaman: “Cap, what would it take for you to accept even one invitation for drink?”

Marvel: “Uh…”

Superman: “Cap, you know you can just tell us if you don’t want to go.”

Marvel: “Oh- uh- it’s not that. I already have plans, that’s why I can’t go. I have to see a friend of mine who’s visiting.”

Wonder Woman: “A friend?”

GL: “I thought we were your only friends.”

Marvel: “I have other friends.” *sounds slightly offended before brushing off the offense* “You guys might know her actually.”

Superman: “Is she a hero?”

Marvel: “Oh no. She’s Bigfoot.”

*loud silence*

GL: “What…?”

Marvel: “She’s Bigfoot, but she prefers when I call her Rhonda. She’s a very classy lady.” *nods head* “We get tea every time she’s in town.”

*another loud silence*

Aquaman: “Buddy…” *puts hand on Marvel’s shoulder* “If you really don’t want to hang out with us that badly, you can just tell us. You don’t have a make up an excuse like that.”

Marvel: *visibly tenses at being called a liar* “I’m not a liar guys.” *shrugs off hand and shoves own hand into pocket dimension and starts rummages, looking for something*

JL: *horrified for a solid three seconds when they see half of Marvel’s arm disappear*

Marvel: *pulls photo from pocket dimension* “Look!” *shows photo of him at a table that looks comically small compared to him, also holding a tea cup too small for an 8ft tall man. Also shows Bigfoot in a very elegant sundress also sitting at the table, also making it look comically small while also holding a teacup that also looks too small for it*

*loudest silence*

GL: “Why are you casually just friends with Bigfoot? How do you just fail to mention things like this??”

or

Batman: “Marvel, why did you put in a notice for leave?”

Marvel: “I thought I put sick leave?”

Batman: “No… You just sent in an email that said, “I’ll be gone for a week” and that’s it.”

Marvel: “Oh. My bad. Well, I’m gonna be gone for a week cause I’m going Wendigo hunting with a couple buddies of mine.”

Batman: “Wendigo. Like the evil, man eating spirit.” *raises brow as if it’s noticeable from under his cowl*

Marvel: “Yeah! It’s kinda like big game hunting, but for people with magic. Plus, they’re kinda starting to become a problem up North. Wanna come?”

Batman: “I don’t have magic.”

Marvel: *shrugs* “You’re Batman. You could probably figure out a way. But even then, we’d be happy to have you.”

Batman: “Hn.” (Translation: I’ll think about it.)

or

Flash: “Dude, you’re sulking. You never sulk! Something’s wrong.”

Marvel: “It’s not that big of a deal. I’m mad at Satan.”

Flash: “Me too, bro me too.” *pats shoulder* “What’d the devil do to you?”

Marvel: “He cheated at poker!”

Flash: “You gamble— I see. So you’re down on your luck at casinos.”

Marvel: “No, like literally! He hid a card up his furry sleeve!”

Flash: *blinks rapidly trying to process that whole statement* “Oh. Uh- you could always disinvite him.”

Marvel: “I guess. But he’s my friend.”

Flash: “Why can you confidently say you’re friends with the devil?”

Marvel: *ignores his question* “What if that hurts our friendship?”

Flash: “Maybe try talking to him about it…?”

Marvel: “That’s actually… a pretty good idea! Thanks, Flash!” *hops up and speeds off to where Flash can assume is literal hell*

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 1 ] || [ Chapter 3 ]

Pairing: Soap x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1K~ cw: a bit of dirty talking/innuendos Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?

Chapter 2: Johnny

“Oh, hello…” You remarked to yourself as your eyes locked into a stunning pair of blue eyes on your screen, stopping your mindless right-swipping. “...Johnny.”

“You’re 29… A soldier… Scottish… Are you friends with Kyle?” You mused playfully. “Let me guess, you’re a gym bro, aren’t you?” You asked sarcastically as you tapped your finger on the right side, skipping through his pictures. The first one immediately after was him lifting while wearing a weightlifting belt. “Yup… Mandatory gym pic.”

Chuckling to yourself, you snap a screenshot of his profile to the girls as well, sending it quick.

leah: @/mia Whatever good energy you sent its working. second hot guy in the last 5 minutes! mia: i lit a CANDLE for this!!!!! leah: there weren’t any handsome guys like this when i was on tinder?! 😫 UNFAIR. 🙄 you: blow it out then cause this is the 3rd actually. leah: 3rd??? Where’s number 2??? you: didn’t think to snap a screenshot. hasn’t matched me back yet. mia: has he posted a shirtless pic? you: kyle did and this one idk but probably. need to check. leah: Don’t forget to send it over.🥴

Shaking your head and laughing in amusement, you went back to Tinder, checking on ‘Johnny’. The mandatory gym pic was there… a couple of them in fact! And then the mandatory shirtless selfie. Or rather… The mandatory shirtless SELFIES. Plural.

Three of them… The first one was him just straight up wearing just a towel… And the next was him in a kilt… And the next was him with a button-up very much so unbuttoned. 

“Oh, my, Johnny-John-John… You sure know how to woo a bird…” You joked to yourself.

You dragged your finger down to check his bio and immediately frowned. “Of course…” You trailed off with a disappointed frown as you snuck another spring roll into your mouth.

He might be stupidly attractive, but his personality… Gosh, he doesn’t know how to sell himself. Boring, boring, boring. “I work out and like video games!” You quipped mockingly and scoffed a bit.

“Artist.” You remarked when you reached the last of his profile’s tags, spotting that word in the hobby section. “An artist? You?” You asked your phone screen as if Johnny would come alive in it and answer you. 

You’d admit, him calling himself an artist was intriguing enough, but normally that wouldn’t be enough to make you Swipe Right on him… But you’re not under normal circumstances. You promised your friends you’d Swipe Right on everyone so…

Your phone almost dropped out of your hand as soon as the ‘It’s a Match’ screen showed. “Of course… He’s probably swiping right on everyone as well…” Rolling your eyes, you go to click off the screen but accidentally enter DMs.

Johnny: ye have any scottish in you? you: not that i know of. Johnny: would ye like to? 🫦 Johnny: wait. wdym not that ye know of??? Johnny: i was trying to be filthy and now got me curious bonnie

“Fuckin’ hell…” You said as you set down your phone and covered your face before breaking into a fit of giggles.

The fact you had accidentally ruined his pick-up line and succeeded in stumping him got you very, very amused. Okay, maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as boring as you thought.

you: story for another time. you: i walked right into that one tho. good job. Johnny: no ye cant do that Johnny: gotta tell me all about it now you: i mean werent scottish people everywhere in the uk at one point? you: i might be 1/370232103484320th scottish. Johnny: would ye like some MORE scottish in ye then? 🫦 you: solid attempt again. you: if you keep trying you might just get there. Johnny: i intend to dont worry you: soooo… Johnny: so? you: were you wearing underwear under the kilt? Johnny: no Johnny: why want a peek? 😏 you: i’m good you: so ur an artist? Johnny: i am Johnny: ur fast at typing fuck you: what kind? you: keep up then! Johnny: drawing Johnny: im trying 🥴 you: can i see some? Johnny: hanging with my mates difficult to text fast 😤 Johnny: idk if ull be in the mood to see anything after im done with ye you: why? 🤨 Johnny: might be too tired and need to be cuddled to sleep 😏 you: oh fuck off. Johnny: u just cursed me out Johnny: i think m in love 😫 Johnny: gonna tell my mates i just met my spouse 🥴🥴 you: don’t give them any ideas. you: haven’t even agreed to meet up with you. you: haven’t been invited in the first place. Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏

Your eyes widened at his enthusiasm and persistence. Okay, he was definitely not boring… It was actually kind of endearing and funny!

you: jc r u copypasting that? Johnny: yes Johnny: are ye going to or not you: can i get back to you on that? Johnny: ill wait for ye you: sure you do that johnny Johnny: ow the sarcasm burns

Concealing a chuckle, you clicked off the DMs page for the second time tonight… but, this time, you closed the app and focused on eating dinner.

Sure, this whole dating app thing was stupid, but at least you were enjoying yourself. 

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

IF THE GIF DOESN'T WORK FOR YOU: CLICK HERE

taglist: @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthoney , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe

[warping-realities]

Parental Pressure 

Eddie watched the personal trainer's video for the thousandth time as he was getting closer to the little gym for his first class. He had snuck out of his house super early and quietly because he knew Nick, his old man, wouldn’t approve of his son wasting time on this kinda stuff. He became a single father really young, back in high school, and now, at 35, he did everything he could to make sure his kid didn’t follow the same path. Becoming a doctor was Nicholas Rousseau’s biggest dream, but early fatherhood messed up his chance to hit the books at college. Not that he blamed Eddie for it; on the contrary, they usually had a solid relationship, except when Eddie strayed from the plans his dad laid out for his future. If Nick couldn’t get into med school, Eddie sure as hell would, whether he liked it or not. And now, with less than a month before college kicked off, Eddie was having doubts about the path laid out for him. So, in a rebellious move, after getting an invite to check out Rocco “Rocky” Mancini's gym, an Italian bodybuilder who moved to the States, now retired and not exactly a big name in the game, who a few years back started hustling as a personal trainer and, according to the promo video on Eddie's Instagram, was looking for young men to boost his portfolio. It looked like that gig wasn’t going great either. The first person to sign up would get a month of free daily training. Perfect for Eddie; after all, a month of training with an expert before college would make things way easier when he had to hit the gym away from his overprotective dad’s watchful eye. Surprisingly he was the first one to sign up! And so, the young  skinny man, with light brown hair found himself stepping into the dimly lit gym at 6 AM.

As he stood frozen at the door, anxiety washing over him, a monstrous figure approached, strutting with swagger, muscles bulging looking like they might burst from the thin layer of skin wrapping them. With a fuller beard and looking at least five years older than in the video Eddie had seen over and over, the guy oozed confidence and a certain arrogance. But those weren’t the only things he was giving off, as it became clear to Eddie when the dude came up to him with a sweaty hand extended to shake, a distinct animal musk dominating his senses.

“You must be Eddie! Nice to meet ya, kid; I’m Rocco, but you can call me Rocky—everyone does. Welcome to my little temple. So, you ever trained before?”

“Ahn, no... I wanted to, but my dad... no, I’ve never trained.”

“Feeling a little bit of Daddy Issues here? Just kidding, son! Where’s your workout gear?”

“I thought, since it’s the first day... I... didn’t bring any...”

“Damn, son, you weren’t kidding when you said you’ve never trained; you don’t have a clue! But don’t sweat it, we’ll fix that! You can wear the shirt; I’ll get you some shorts.”

“I... don’t wanna be a bother.”

“Son, you came here to train, and train is what you’re gonna do. I don’t know what your pops taught you but it looks like you got a lot to learn from me. First thing, you gotta be more assertive—don’t be scared to say what you think or do what you like.”

Hearing that, Eddie felt something shift inside him; the fear and anxiety that had been eating at him for weeks seemed to fade away. He wanted to be there, and nobody was gonna take that away from him, not even his old man.

After hitting the locker room and putting on the shorts Rocco lent him, which were way too big in the legs but surprisingly just right in the waist, Eddie went back to the main room where the personal trainer was waiting for him.

“We gotta fill those shorts, son!”

“That’s why I’m here, Mr. Mancini.”

“Hell yeah! That’s the spirit but none of this Mr. Mancini nonsense; you either call me Rocky or coach.”

“Yes, sir, coach!”

“That’s right! Now, back to our chat, you said you’ve been training for a while, but how long is a while, son?”

That info was totally wrong; he’d never trained, right? But why did he have fuzzy memories of sneaking out to hit the school gym before class during his senior year? If he hadn’t trained, where did those small but tight muscles come from?

“I’ve been training for almost a year, coach, but I don’t think I’ve seen much result.”

“Two more things to teach you, son: first, we’re never happy with the size we are, and second, even so, you’re never gonna downplay your achievements; you’ve done something that most people can’t even pull off. Be proud of that.”

“I... I’m proud, yeah!” he replied, realizing the coach was speaking the truth. He had a lot of pride in what he accomplished, even though he knew he was still far from where he wanted to be.

“Awesome! Now you’re talking like a real champ. But enough chit-chat, let’s see what you’re made of.” Rocco said before putting Eddie through the most grueling workout he’d ever experienced. His self-taught training hadn’t prepared him for this level of exhaustion. After half an hour of intense agony, they took a break, and Eddie tried to recover before what he knew would be another half hour of torture as Rocco praised him.

“Damn, son, all that fuss you had with your pops to come train with me in your junior year was worth it. You’re huge; another minute and that shirt ain’t gonna hold!”

Still exhausted from the workout, Eddie took a moment to wrap his head around what the trainer had said. A fight with his dad...? And training here for at least three years...? No... it didn’t make sense... but then he saw his own reflection in the gym mirror, and he was... fucking swole! And that... that wasn’t just possible; it was thanks to the time he’d spent caring for his body all this while, even with his dad breathing down his neck.

“Thanks, Coach, but I’m still not anywhere near where I wanna be!”

“Well, if you get closer, this shirt definitely isn’t gonna hold. I’ll grab you one of mine, or you can train shirtless until the other clients show up, son. In the meantime, figure out how to get that thing off, but I doubt it’s coming off without tearing. Maybe you should film a video for your social media; I bet your followers will go wild!”

“Haha, I don’t think that they will care, and I feel kinda uncomfortable putting myself out there. So I’ll take the shirt.” Eddie replied as the coach returned with an enormous shirt in hand and offered it to him.

“Son, there’s no reason to be shy about showing off; you sculpted that body for a reason. Don’t tell me that’s another one of your dad’s ideas? You never cared much about what he thinks, and I’ve known you since you were a little brat, fourteen years old, showing up on opening day to get an autograph!”

Once again, Eddie felt something shift inside him; the cordial relationship he had with his overly protective dad was turning into a conflictual one, with both of them constantly arguing about the expectations they had for Eddie’s future, which drove him to practically live at Rocco’s gym, where he helped with maintenance or took care of the place to keep training without having to pay.

“You’re right, as always, Rocky; it’s just that, I dunno... I think this crowd that needs to post everything they do is kinda empty and vain.”

“Son if you don’t show off your gains, you won’t grow your followers, and so what if it seems kinda empty? What matters is being seen. And nobody builds a body like yours without a bit of vanity. I’ll let you keep training; I’ve got a client in twenty minutes. If you need me for anything, just holler.”

“Rocky, I can train better than a lot of pro bodybuilders, man! You know that!”

“Son there’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance! You can strut around all you want with your followers, but don’t come at me with that!” Rocky shot back, though he couldn’t hide a smile of approval.

As the trainer moved away to organize things for his client, Eddie focused on finishing his remaining exercises. Kicking off his sneakers and heading to the squat rack barefoot, he stacked plate after plate until he formed a sizable pile that would surprise anyone. But the truth was, despite the insane weight, it was relatively easy for Eddie. Next, he hit the leg press and finished with deadlifts using a bar that weighed more than a baby rhino. When he sat down to do his last exercise of the day, calves, a distinct funk emanated from his armpits, but mainly from his giant size 14 bare feet. Looking at himself and feeling pumped, he couldn’t resist pulling out his phone to shoot a TikTok video. He was in the middle of recording when Rocky interrupted him.

“Damn, kid, you reek! No offense, we all have a little man funk; I know how it is, but clients are gonna start showing up, so take a shower and let’s get to work.”

“Damn, coach, sometimes you’re worse than my dad.” The kid replied, stopping the recording.

“I am your father, boy!” The older man shot back with a sinister grin and a predatory look at the younger man before continuing. “And if you really wanna please your fans, be a show-off; don’t hide your assets, son; show off that chest and those abs, but hurry up, ‘cause this place is gonna be packed soon. We’re not the biggest gym in town by luck, Wardo. This young stud pose might please your fans, but the morning ladies prefer when you play the part of the innocent bambino.”

This time, the wave of strangeness hit Eddie so hard that he felt dizzy and nauseous, exacerbated by the potent funk he was putting off. And for the first time since he stepped foot in that gym, he fully realized what was going down as he automatically took off his shirt and walked toward one of the gym mirrors, a gym which seemed to expand with every step he took, turning from a small studio into a gigantic complex. As his skin took on an olive tone and his dark brown hair curled into perfect black curls, while his nose turned aquiline like a Roman emperor from antiquity, Eddie struggled within his own mind while Edoardo Mancini took control. If someone could hear the debate between the two, it would sound something like:

“Dude, I am... no, we are what you’ve always wanted to be! Pops gave you this chance; why not embrace it?”

“’Cause I... I’m going to med school...”

“You never wanted that; we never wanted that; that was Nicholas’s thing, not ours. This is our chance to be whoever we wanna be!”

“No... we are what Rocco made us; we’re just trading one controlling dad for another!”

“Not even close, dude! We chose this path; he didn’t pressure us! We followed him out of admiration, and that boosted both his success and ours; we’re legends in the fitness world!”

“Rocco was a mediocre pro... he’s using us for leverage!”

“And what’s wrong with that? We’re getting something out of it too! And how is that different from Nicholas pressuring you?”

“I... I... don’t know...”

“Dude, if you didn’t want this, I wouldn’t be here. Chill and enjoy; besides, Pops already got what he wanted from us. He’s not gonna pressure us to follow in his footsteps. We can be whatever we want: bodybuilders like him, or fitness models, or even kickstart an acting career; and I’m not even talking about porn, even though this big guy between our legs would be a hit. Just accept it.” Wardo said, stroking the giant cock in his mind and in real life.

“I... I... damn... this feels so... fucking... good!”

“Wardo! Wrap it up, kid, and stop playing with that thing; we got a new client coming.” Rocco scolded his son.

“Damn, Pops, another ruined video!”

“You weren’t gonna post that, kid; you wanna get banned from social media?”

“I was just messing around...”

“Kid... you’ve got five minutes to take a shower and get your ass to the front desk.”

“Okay, Dad! Did you hear that, folks? The great Rocco Mancini has spoken, and the good son obeys! I’ll be back with updates soon.” The young man said before stopping the recording.

“I’ll edit it so nothing racy gets out; don’t worry, Dad!”

“Five minutes and counting!” Rocco replied with fake irritation, but in reality, he was puffed up with pride for his son as he headed for the reception, spotting a man in his mid-thirties, wearing glasses and an outfit that screamed he’d never set foot in a gym in his life.

“Good morning, sir; welcome to Rocky's Gym; I’m Rocky Mancini, the owner and head coach. Are you looking for something?”

“Good morning, I’m Nick Rousseau, and I’m actually looking for my son; his phone tracker showed he was here just a few minutes ago before it suddenly stopped working.”

“Tracker? Isn’t that a bit much? Anyway, how old is he and what’s he like? We haven’t had anyone too young around here today, except for my own kid, but if I can help you out…”

“I... I don’t know...”

“You don’t know? What kinda dad doesn’t know how to describe his own kid?”

“I... I...” Nicholas replied, his voice filled with genuine desperation, which made Rocco feel a bit of sympathy, but not enough to stop him from making the next call.

“Hey, Wardo... Wardo!!! Damn kid never listens! Edoardo Mancini!!!!” Rocky yelled while watching Nicholas slightly tremble at the sound of that name.

“What’s up, Pops? I’ll get ready in a sec.” The handsome young man replied as he prepared to flex the powerful muscles that no kid his age could get without maximum dedication, watched by his dad and the other boy.

“Not that, you insubordinate ragazzo! This guy’s looking for his son; has anyone younger shown up today?”

“Nope!” He replied, giving Nicholas a quick glance over the shades he was wearing just for style before turning around and finally heading to the locker room.

“Sorry about that, teenage boys; you know how they are.” Rocco said, smiling at the other man.

“I... know?”

“Didn’t you come looking for your son?”

“Son?? Son... no... I don’t have kids... do I?” Nicholas replied, looking both confused and desperate.

“Are you feeling alright? I’m no doc, but I can try to help.”

“Doc... doctor? No... no need... I’m a doctor.” Nicholas replied with more confidence.

“Seriously? That’s awesome! Doctors are always good clients; they know how to take care of themselves.”

“Client?”

“You didn’t come here to train? We’re in a gym, after all.”

“Of course... I came... to train. You come highly recommended.”

“Modesty aside, it’s because I’m the best. I normally don’t take new clients, but we could use a doctor to evaluate our clients, so we could do a trade; you wouldn’t happen to be a sports doc, would you?”

“No, I…”

“Awesome! Just what I needed! But I can tell you’re already in shape!” Rocco said, grinning. “Let me show you the gym. Normally, this would be Wardo’s job, but the kid’s been so focused on his influencer career that he’s slacking here... between us, I’d rather he be a bodybuilder like me, but I think a dad should respect his kid’s wishes; don’t you think?” Rocco asked, and without waiting for a reply, he continued. “Don’t you wanna have kids? Are you single or married? Dude, if you’re single, I gotta introduce you to my sister; no disrespect to her, ‘cause my mama raised me right, but between us, she’s a total smoke show...” And so he went on while Nicholas followed, not realizing that with every word spoken, his reality was adjusting to the other man’s desires.

Minutes later, Rocco stepped into the locker room bathroom and watched his son recording another video, already showered but still unable to shake off the musk that surrounded him, maybe because he was still wearing the same shorts from his workout. He admired his boy, feeling proud knowing all this was his hard work paying off.

When the young man finished recording, he turned to him.

“Wardo, finish getting dressed and come out here for a minute; I got a surprise for you.”

….

“Hey guys, Wardo Mancini here, and I’ve got some awesome news! You’re probably tired of seeing my pops in my videos, but today, besides him, I wanna introduce you to someone else.” He said, repositioning the camera in the packed gym.

“This handsome fella next to my dad is my doctor, Nic Russo, and on top of that, he’s my uncle, married to my dad’s sister. And now for the biggest news: he’s about to be a dad, and he asked me to be the godfather of his boy! Just think about the genetics of that kid with a dad like this and an uncle like my pops. My uncle says the kid can be whatever he wants, but we all know the iron bug is in our blood, and as far as his godfather is concerned, Rocky Russo is gonna be a champion bodybuilder!”

[violettwrites]

a heart that knows — daryl dixon

a/n: sorry to the nonnie that requested this bcos i took forever 😭 it had been sitting in my drafts since i received it but i’ve been so focused on writing the first few chapters of dotd but here you go my sweet !

if you enjoy my writing, please don’t forget to like, reblog, and/or comment ! and give me a follow if you want to see more ! i really appreciate the support 🫶🏻

summary: daryl and reader were arguing when he moves too quickly and scares reader.

requested: anon requested ‘I would love to see something where tp!daryl and reader are arguing about something and he’s being expressive with his hands and she flinches out of instinct, and he realizes that things have gotten worse at home for her. He feels awful and ashamed so he makes it up to her by planning a special date and asks her to stay with him for a while and he promises her he won’t ever let anyone hurt her ever again. Just like super mega fluffy.’

warnings: mentions of abuse

word count: 1,056

resources: divider by @adornedwithlight

➵ mega masterlist

the sun was starting to set, casting a golden hue over the run down trailer park, and daryl’s voice echoed through the air as he paced in front of you. his hands waved in the air dramatically as he ranted about something—what, you couldn’t exactly remember. the heat of the argument had long since taken the actual topic of discussion and it had been twisted into something far deeper, emotions raw and rising between the two of you.

“ya just don’ get it, do ya?” daryl’s voice cracked with frustration, his hands slicing through the air. “i don’ understand why you gotta push me away all the time!”

the moment his hand moved to close, a reflex buried deep within you took over. you didn’t mean to flinch, but you did— just a little. the quick jerk of your body was instinctive, a reaction you’d honed after years of dodging your dad’s drunken outbursts. daryl’s hands froze mid air, his expression dropping immediately.

he saw it. he knew.

the silence between you both felt like a heavy weight. your eyes dropped to the gravel, cheeks burning with embarassment.

“i’m sorry,” you mumbled, trying to shake it off, but daryl was already moving closer, his earlier anger completely forgotten about. he reached out slowly, carefully, as if he didn’t want to startle you again. his calloused fingers brushed the side of your arm, and you glanced up to meet his worried blue eyes.

“hey…” his voice was soft now, barely above a whisper. “i didn’t mean to scare ya, i’m sorry.”

you nodded your head, but daryl wasn’t convinced. he could see it in the way you wouldn’t look at him directly, the way your body was still a little tense, like you were ready to flee if things went south. he swallowed hard, guilt clawing at him. he knew how you felt— life was the same for him.

“how’s… how’s your dad?” he asked, his voice rougher now, but not from anger. it was the kind of roughness that came from knowing too much, from understanding what he couldn’t fix on his own.

you shrugged, trying to keep it casual, but the walls you built up around yourself were thinner now, cracking under his concern. “he’s the same.”

daryl’s jaw tightened. he hated hearing that— how you tried to brush it off so casually. he knew “the same” meant worse, meant you were still walking on eggshells at home, trying not to provoke a man who had no right treating you— his own daughter the way he did. daryl knew about your situation from the day he had met you, but it still made his blood boil to think of anyone hurting you.

without another word, daryl pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively. you melted into him, letting out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding. his embrace was warm, solid, and safe— everything your home wasn’t.

“i hate that you gotta go through this,” he whispered into your hair. he knew it wasn’t easy, getting away from a home life like that. hell, he barely made it out alive himself. “i hate that ya flinch like that, like you’re expectin’ me to hurt ya. i’d never…”

you leaned your forehead against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your skin. “i know,” you whispered back. “i’m sorry.”

“don’ be,” he said firmly, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “don’ you dare apologise for somethin’ that ain’t yer fault.”

you didn’t argue. there was no point. daryl could be stubborn, but when it came to you, he was also fiercely protective.

“i ain’t lettin’ you go back there tonight,” he added, his tone final. “yer stayin’ with me tonight, okay? merle’s out for the weekend. it’ll just be us.”

you blinked, caught off guard by his offer. “daryl, i can’t—“

“ya can,” he interrupted, his hands resting on your shoulders as he gazed down at you with such intensity that it made your heart race. “i don’ want ya goin’ back there. not tonight. not any night. hell, ya can stay here as long as ya want. we got room.” he was right. he and merle had finally gotten their own little trailer in the park— simply to try and avoid their own father. sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

your eyes welled up with emotion, the weight of everything hitting you all at once. “you really mean that?”

“‘course i do,” he cupped your cheeks gently, brushing a thumb over your skin. “i ain’t ever lettin’ anyone hurt you again.”

his words were more than a promise— they were a cow. you could see it in the way he looked at you, the way his rough exterior softened when he was with you. he meant every word.

a tear slipped down your cheek, but daryl wiped it away with a tender smile. “don’ cry, baby. you deserve better than all this crap.”

“i know, but—“ you swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to pull yourself together. “i don’t know what i’d do without you,” you admitted, your voice trembling with gratitude.

“you ain’t gotta worry ‘bout that,” he said, his tone gentle but full of resolve. “i ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

he gave you a small smile, and the tension between you both finally began to dissolve. daryl wasn’t much of a planner, but the next words out of his mouth were proof that he’d been thinking about this for a while.

“tell ya what,” he said, nudging you playfully. “how ‘bout tomorrow, i take you out? just us. get away from this place for a while. i’ll take ya to that diner ya like, and we’ll watch that stupid movie yer been goin’ on about.”

you couldn’t help but laugh through your tears. “you hate that movie.”

“yeah, but i like ya, so i’ll suffer through it,” he teased, and just like that, the heavy mood lifted a little more.

you reached up, standing on your toes to press a soft kiss to his lips, and daryl’s arms tightened around you, holding you close. “thank you,” you whispered.

“for wha’?”

“for making me feel safe.”

daryl kissed the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair. “always, darlin’. always.”

[s1ater]

potential.

pairings. levi ackerman x fem!reader

about. levi has an eye on you.

warnings. gifs not mine, foul language

rickey rocks. okay something different for my blog. I know this has some flaws and inaccuracies with the cold and titans but whatever. I am also scheming up a reiner fic hehe

the frigid weather soaked every particle of your body as you trudged through snow that continued to pile up on the mountain you trekked on. the thick flakes that invaded your vision made it hard for you to even remotely focus on where you were going--where you needed to be.

you'd be buried before you'd reach camp.

the 104 cadet corps were set on the footpath of a mountain as a training exercise despite the ruthless weather. the blizzard was weather meant for death, and even as months of training beat down on you and your fellow cadets practically prepared you for such harsh conditions, some of you were still yet to grow immune to rough circumstances.

you pulled daz, a fellow comrade, on a makeshift sleigh in order for easy transportation through the snow. but even with that and as time had passed and snow had begun to pile, it wasn't as easy as the first hour. the boy who had seemed to have fallen ill with the more time spent in the cold was passing the similar feeling on to you.

fucking hell.

sometimes you felt keith sadies only lived to watch you all suffer.

training had to be one of the biggest pains in your ass. especially when your fellow comrades lacked the level of aptitude you solely possessed. and especially after the large interest levi ackerman had shown of you.

the training corps had been bustling for the past week over the matter of you and your level of mastery at anything thrown your way. it was always like that; it was hard for your skill to go unnoticed or grow accustomed to for that matter, but this time, the only difference was the matter of who was noticing you.

levi ackerman was a highly admired man among your comrades--well really anyone within the walls. humanities strongest soldier. he was agile and had genius combat skills. he always seemed to know the enemies next move before they did.

so when levi ackerman, captain of the levi squad, somehow found himself wandering amongst the cadet corps in search of girl who possessed the same level of skill that they said mirrored his own--he couldn't help but come see for himself.

and what he saw... he must've liked.

"god, help me," you grit your teeth, giving the rope you had slung around your shoulder one last tug before halting.

it was quiet here, windy, but quiet. you truly and finally felt alone up on this snowy mountain, even more so that it seemed you were so close to death. but at least it was quiet.

you glance down to daz's bundled up body, almost wishing you were him instead of the one dragging his body to possible refuge. this could all be for nothing... your decision to stay back in hopes to save another body might lead to your death too and--, "no."

you can't think like that. not now.

"gotta keep moving," you pull the rope again. "think of something else, y/n."

think of him.

"you're impressive, miss y/l/n," you sat in the dining hall watching this so called "greatest solider" with careful and timid eyes as he paced before you. "but I'm sure you know that already."

he watched you train. he watched you get tested by your head commander with screams. he watched you send anyone who fought hand to hand combat against you to their ass. he watched and he almost admired you.

even with the slight crack in his usual stoic shell, you were still at a loss as to what he was doing here. he kept his true intentions to himself, not even caring to speak to commander sadies. requesting you to the dining hall was his first move out of observing, but you sat here still, wondering, what did he want?

"I want you, y/n."

your slight recollection is broken by a loud, ground shaking sound.

thump. thump.

you freeze, feeling every bit of your body grow colder than it already was--if that was even possible.

"shit, shit, shit," you knew that sound. you knew exactly what that meant. you were quick to press your pace faster and onward as if to escape it, but you knew better. "not now."

you stop just as fast as you started, looking around fastly; looking toward daz's body. you needed to find coverage.

thump. thump. thump.

your eyes survey the scenery around you, seeking for something that could not only hide you, but the boy that was getting harder and harder to keep alive.

it was like fate didn't want you to be a good person.

your eyes settled on a lower tree line. you had to get higher. to have the advantage, you needed height. there was no way getting away from this thing and there was no way you’d kill this thing at your small height.

you had to climb.

but daz.

“you’re becoming a real pain in my ass,” you grit your teeth, lugging him toward the tall pine trees.

you’ve disregarded the rope, now pulling him by the cotton fabric sleeping bag he was wrapped in. you huffed, shuffling backwards as fast as you could till you felt a wall of branches push against you.

thump. thump.

it was close now. the sound of its footfalls were earth shattering—you could feel it in your bones. this drove you to move faster than you could barely process. you got on your hands and knees, pushing daz’s body into the underbelly of the tree, deciding this would be the best place to store him as you would attempt to butcher the oncoming titan.

you're swift to pull off your pack now, shuffling through the contents inside looking for the thick dagger you didn't go anywhere without. this would be hard without ODM gear, nearly impossible, but your level of skill would be just enough to get you through this.

once you possessed the blade, you dropped your pack under the tree--

thump. thump. thump.

there it was.

it's ugly face barely peaked over the top of the pine trees as it guided itself through them in search of you. it's jaw was already unlatched and salivating at the mouth.

"fuck me," you pulled yourself into the pine tree, now scaling to the top as fast as possible. "levi, you fucking bastard."

"you're from shiganshina."

you nod.

he does as well, slowly his pace, "is that why you want to become a scout? for revenge"

"no," you shook your head, still keeping your eyes strictly trained on the table you sat at.

"then why?" he sat before you now, taking you by surprise and causing you to finally looking at him--just like he wanted.

you swallowed sharply. you didn't understand this level of intimidation that suddenly took over you--you had heard all of the stories of levi ackerman, but you didn't find yourself swooning like your fellow comrades. what was so special about him? nothing--is what you thought... and yet you sat here in slight anxiety as if you were sitting in the presence of royalty.

"I'm not sure... honestly," you glance up at him. "all my life I had my father telling me what I was and what I wanted. he told me my purpose was to become a scout—but now that i’m here, i’m not so sure.”

levi is silent as he thinks over your words, then, humming, nodding slowly, “i’ll give you purpose, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

you now fully look at him, almost taken aback by his choice of words, but intrigued.

levi felt pitty for you. you were polluted with so much potential and yet you lacked a drive to fulfill it. he knew there was more to you than just a skilled soldier who overruled their comrades, and he so desperately wanted to see it. if you were so good now, he couldn’t imagine how good you’d be with the right motivation.

“i want you to join levi squad, y/n,” he folds his hands. “you’re very excellent for your age and i know you know it. your comrades know it. i know it.”

levi is typically reluctant to admit admiration for another, especially upon first meeting. admiration and praise was earned, but it seemed you were different.

“you’re too good for training, i know you think that, but you need it. you already possess an advantage over all your peers, better for them to think they still have a chance rather than initiate you weeks into training,” he gets up now.

“wait,” you stand with him. “what does this mean?”

“this means you’re an upcoming scout of levi scout.”

you curse levi now as you hold your self tightly to a pine tree, attempting to push yourself far from an unlatched jaw bearing its teeth at you.

yeah, fuck levi and his request to cushion the egos of your fellow comrades.

**

"can't believe she would ruin her chances with levi squad this easily."

"what do you propose she should've done; leave daz to the wolves and let him freeze to death?"

jean doesn't say anything to eren's response, knowing that's exactly what he would've done, or at least left him to someone else to drag him along.

"that's probably why captain levi took so much interest in her, jean," armin sets his gaze on the side of his campions face, shining light to what some of them may have considered your act of courageousness, stupidity. "not only is she impressive with battle tactic, but she also looks out for her fellow comrades."

"just like we're going to do," mikasa's hollow voice catches all of their attention.

"you don't mean you want to go all the way back out there?" jean looks at the side of the girl's face like she's almost insane. "after the long trek we already went through?"

“what is that?” eren's voice covers jean's whiney protests once his eyes size onto the faint sight of a dark figure. "y/n?" his voice is faint as he squints, attempting to clear up his vision, but it's no use with the excessive amount of wind and snow plaguing every inch of his sight.

"no way that's not her."

it becomes more and more abundantly clear what they were looking at, especially as they take steps closer--but your appearance doesn't match the one of which they last saw you at.

"I'll go get commander shadis," armin leans toward the cabins, running off.

you are drenched in blood. everything about you is staggered and it wasn't just because of you still carrying daz. you limp roughly, leaving your comrades to their imagination on what could have caused that, but they don't have a choice after you collapse into the snow.

**

"you should've left that boy behind," his voice pierces your ears despite his low tone. "it's not smart to risk your life for another who's deadweight."

you dig the heal of your palm into your eyes as you attempt to push on to listen to levi. you fail. your head throbs and your body still aches from days before.

"what can I say, I like a challenge," you scowl at his distasteful comment once you summon up enough energy to respond.

he resists to roll his eyes at your comeback, staring down at your slouched over figure, "I can't have my best solider dead."

it didn't take long for word to reach levi about his prized possession not only saving a fellow cadet, but also killing a titan--even if that titan was a small baby one.

"technically I'm not yours yet... according to you."

"smartass." he scoffs, "your compassion is admirable, but I'd appreciate it if you kept yourself subtle from here on out. got it?"

"yeah, whatever," your lack of energy and exhaustion was clear now to levi with low of an effort you were putting into being snarky with him. you expect him to say nothing in return but by the way he examines you, it's almost like there's more.

"don't make me regret my decision," he turns on his heal, "not a lot of people are lucky enough to have the talent that you have or the opportunities you'll be given. don't make me look like a fool.”

you watch him walk out without another word, his footfalls echoing in the empty hall outside the private room. you resist the urge to clench your fists too hard at the sound of his last words ringing inside of your head. they make your chest tighten at thought of just one more person to please, especially with it being someone's judgement you actually care for.

you didn't need this.

but you want it.

"fuck you, levi."

[heytheredelulu]

I Gotta Take This.

Bucky Barnes x Female Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1k

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

C/W: Language, Bucky sends a dickpic, reference to his beautiful cock 😏, implied sex

It was becoming increasingly more difficult to pay attention to the mission briefing the longer Bucky Barnes continued to undress you with his stupid, blue eyes from across the room.

‘Stop staring at me, weirdo.’ You text him from beneath the table, turning your attention back to Steve and Tony before either of the men standing and addressing the room had the opportunity to catch you on your phone.

You weren’t surprised when the device buzzed against your thigh no more than thirty seconds later.

‘It’s hard not to stare when I keep imagining you naked’

Motherfucker.

‘Keep it in your pants, Barnes.’ You text back quickly, shifting in your seat to keep your phone obscured. You glance back up at him to where he sits across the long table in front you, his head bowed slightly as he reads the message, a devilish smirk beginning to stretch across his face.

Oh goddamnit, you know that look.

Your eyes flit back down to your lap in anticipation just as the notification pops up for a new message. You open it and immediately fumble, nearly dropping your phone as you quickly try to close out of the photo he’d just sent you of his hand wrapped around his thick and angry cock. You were so focused on trying to ensure Nat and Clint seated opposite you hadn’t seen the picture that you hadn’t realized how indiscreet you were being until Steve cleared his throat.

“Everything okay over there?” He asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing his muscular arms over his chest.

“Ye- Yeah. Yeah. Fine.” You reply, your voice an octave higher than normal and you notice Bucky stifling a laugh from across the table.

“Right, let’s refocus then.” Steve says sternly, turning back to the screen behind him. As soon as the super soldier’s back is to you, you whip your phone back out, typing frantically.

‘What the hell is wrong with you!? Do you just keep dick pics on deck for your convenience?’

You watch Bucky grin as he leans back in his seat, fingers moving swiftly across his screen, before slowly raising his head back up to pin you under his intense gaze as your phone vibrates yet again.

‘Empty conference room. Down the hall. Make an excuse.’

You blink a few times, staring at the message in disbelief.

He’s out of his mind. There’s no way you’re going to-

‘Now.’

This man would be the death of you.

You scoot your chair back and stand up, drawing the attention of every Avenger in the room.

“I’m so sorry but I have to take this phone call.” You lie, avoiding their stares by looking back and forth between the door and the phone in your hand to feign urgency.

Tony scoffs. “Now? It can’t wait?” He asks with clear annoyance in his tone.

You shake your head, walking backwards towards the door. “It can’t. It’s important. I have to take this.” You repeat, pretending to pick up the call while you tilt your head to pin the phone between your ear and shoulder. “Hello?” You ask absolutely no one as you slip out the door and into the hallway.

Bucky manages a solid two minutes of impatience, leaned forward in his seat and bouncing his leg while the team deliberates on if they should wait for you to return or continue without you, before he stretches, groaning dramatically.

“Well, seems like she’s gonna be a while.” He states, standing up and rolling his shoulders. “I’m gonna go take a leak.”

“The old man can’t hold his bladder?” Tony mocks, tipping back in his seat and kicking his feet up on the table. Steve rolls his eyes and shakes his head, walking over and shoving Tony’s feet back onto the floor. “Keep your feet off the table.” He grumbles, taking a seat in the empty chair next to him.

“I’m sorry, do you have a problem with me kicking my feet up on the table I paid for?” He asks sarcastically. Steve doesn’t reply, only mumbling under his breath as he leans forward on his elbows.

“We should get back to the meeting.” Bruce suggests, setting his tablet down and removing his glasses. “We still have a lot to cover.”

“We can wait, she’s probably finishing up her phone call by now and it doesn’t take but a minute for Bucky to run to the bathroom.” Steve responds, drumming his fingers against the table top.

Natasha stifles a laugh and Clint elbows her hard in the side. “Ow! Seriously?” She asks, turning to glare at him.

Steve raises his eyebrow. “What’s funny?”

Natasha shrugs. “I’m just thinking they’re both probably going to be gone for a while.”

Tony leans his head back, rolling his eyes and letting out a groan and Steve looks between him and Natasha before frowning. “No, they should be back any minute.” He says, his expression growing puzzled.

Natasha can’t hold back her laughter any longer and Clint slumps forward, dropping his forehead to rest on the table. “Captain clueless over here.” He mumbles against the wood.

“Okay, what am I missing?” Steve asks, growing frustrated.

“I’m pretty sure they’re fucking.” Natasha replies, struggling to keep a straight face at Steve’s naivety.

His eyes widen and he sits upright in his seat. “Language!” He stammers, looking at her in disbelief. “And that’s just- that’s definitely not-“

“It definitely is.” Clint interjects, lifting his head and tossing his arms up. “I mean, come on. It wasn’t even subtle.”

“What? No, she said she was taking a phone call and he said-“ Steve begins to argue but Natasha’s laughter causes him to trail off as he furrows his brows and crosses his arms.

“I got this.” Tony says, tilting his head up towards the ceiling. “J.A.R.V.I.S.?” He asks aloud.

“Yes Mr. Stark?”

“Can you do a sweep of our empty offices?”

“Just a moment.”

Tony gestures his hand vaguely as he looks at Steve with his eyebrows raised.

“Movement detected in conference room B.”

Tony smirks, giving Steve a smug expression before addressing J.A.R.V.I.S. again.

“Let me guess, Y/N and Barnes?”

“That would be correct, sir.”

A/N: Yeah, idk. This is just popped into my head and I needed to bring it to life. I typed it up in a whole five minutes so I apologize for any and all mistakes. 🫣

Taglist (Taglist is open):

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[ghostlyglimmer]

The Fun Zone Part 8

Find the other chapters here

Summary:

Danny Fenton’s part-time job at The Fun Zone—a chaotic arcade and entertainment center that’s secretly a gang front—was going great until a certain vigilante stormed in to shut the place down.

It was a quiet evening at The Fun Zone—well, as quiet as it could be with the usual hum of arcade machines and the distant sound of kids screaming in delight from the go-kart track. Danny leaned on the counter, spinning a token on the surface, when the door chimed, announcing a new visitor.

The boy who walked in couldn’t have been older than twelve, but he carried himself like he owned the place. His sharp green eyes swept the room with a suspicious intensity, and his perfectly pressed jacket screamed “trying too hard to blend in.”

Danny smirked, instantly recognizing the kid. Oh, great. It’s Bat Brat.

Damian Wayne had arrived, and judging by the way he was eyeballing everything, he was clearly here on some sort of "mission." Danny straightened up, ready to play along.

“Welcome to The Fun Zone!” Danny said, his voice overly cheerful. “Here to play some games, or are you here for the ambiance?”

Damian's eyes narrowed. “I’m… here to observe the clientele's opinions on this facility.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Observe? What are you, a critic? Because I gotta warn you, the hot dogs are a solid ‘meh.’”

Damian’s jaw tightened. “I’m just… curious about how this place operates and customer satisfaction.”

Danny leaned on the counter, his grin widening. “You mean you’re curious about me, right? It’s okay, kid. I get it. I’m fascinating.”

Damian scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Danny chuckled, handing him a token. “Sure you don’t. Here—play a game or two. Maybe it’ll help you loosen up.”

For the next hour, Damian stalked around the arcade, pretending to be subtle as he scribbled notes in a little notebook. Danny watched him from the counter, stifling laughter at the kid’s terrible undercover skills. Damian was so obvious it was almost cute.

Danny decided to crank up the suspicion meter just for fun. Whenever Damian glanced his way, Danny made a point of talking into his phone in hushed tones or pretending to scribble mysterious equations on a napkin. Once, he even opened the claw machine with a key, whispered “the package is secure,” and closed it again, leaving Damian glaring at him from behind a pinball machine.

Meanwhile, in the back office, Jason was reviewing security footage when he noticed Damian’s very obvious surveillance tactics. He groaned, muttering, “What the hell is that little gremlin up to now?”

Pulling on his helmet, Jason stepped out of the office and made his way to the counter, where Danny was now stacking cups for no apparent reason.

“Fenton,” Jason said, crossing his arms. “Why is there a tiny detective casing the place?”

Danny grinned, keeping his voice low. “Oh, you mean that brat? Yeah, he’s been watching me all night. Probably thinks I’m running some secret black-market arcade empire.”

Jason sighed. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Danny said, stacking another cup. “He’s so easy to mess with.”

Jason smirked under his helmet. “Let’s see how far we can take this.”

A few minutes later, Jason stormed up to the counter, his voice loud enough to echo across the arcade. “Fenton! Back office. Now.”

Danny plastered on a confused expression. “Uh, is this about the claw machine incident? Because I can explain—”

“Now!” Jason barked, grabbing Danny by the arm and dragging him toward the office.

Damian, who had been pretending to play air hockey, froze mid-swipe. His eyes narrowed as he watched the two disappear behind the office door.

Inside the office, Danny collapsed into a chair, laughing quietly. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

Jason closed the door, leaning against it. “Let’s give him a show.”

Outside, Damian crept closer to the office, straining to hear the conversation. What he heard made his stomach twist.

“I told you to keep it low-key!” Jason’s voice growled. “Do you want the entire operation exposed?”

Danny’s voice followed, trembling with mock fear. “I didn’t mean to! It’s not my fault the kid is snooping around! What was I supposed to do—ignore him?”

“You were supposed to act normal,” Jason snapped. “Now he’s suspicious. Do you know what happens if he reports this?”

“I’ll be careful!” Danny pleaded. “I swear, I didn’t say anything about the shipments!”

Damian’s heart raced. Shipments? He pressed his ear closer, desperate to catch more.

Jason’s voice dropped dangerously low. “If you screw this up, you’re done. Got it?”

Danny’s reply was barely audible. “Got it.”

Jason flung the door open, and Damian stumbled back, trying to act casual. Jason glared at him through his helmet. “Kid. Why are you loitering?”

Damian crossed his arms, his mask of composure snapping back into place. “I was just wondering why you dragged your employee into the back for a ‘chat.’ Something to hide?”

Jason snorted. “None of your business. Shouldn’t you be playing laser tag or something?”

“I don’t play games,” Damian said coldly.

Jason leaned closer, his voice dripping with menace. “Then maybe you shouldn’t hang around places like this.”

Damian bristled but didn’t back down. Jason held his glare for a moment longer before walking away, muttering, “Demon kids.”

As soon as Jason was out of earshot, Danny popped his head out of the office, grinning. “Hey, kid. You okay? You look pale.”

Damian glared at him. “I’ll figure out what you’re hiding. Mark my words.”

Danny winked. “Looking forward to it.”

Damian stormed off, muttering something in Arabic that Danny couldn’t quite catch. Jason returned to the counter, watching Damian’s retreating form.

“You think he bought it?” Jason asked.

Danny grinned. “Oh, definitely. That kid’s gonna be tailing me for weeks.”

Jason chuckled. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah,” Danny said, grabbing a mop. “But I’m your idiot.”

[spacedace]

“Hey, I need to get married for bullshit Infinite Realms reasons, you two in?”

“Tt, of course.”

“Sure thing! Do we need to get going for that like, right now? Or later?”

“Eh, like in a couple of hours? The Observants are demanding some Royal Ball or something and they pulled out some stupid old laws out of their collective asses that if I’m not married by the time it starts they can assign me spouses of their choosing, can you fucking believe that shit?”

“Woah, what the hell? Can they even do that?”

“I was under the impression they were only permitted to observe.”

“Right? It’s total crap, but apparently there’s like this super old law on the books and they didn’t bring it up until now when there’s like no time left to try and force me to marry someone they pick.”

“They are training to gain influence over you?”

“Eh, more like they’re trying to get control of my Dad by way of me. But still fucked as hell.”

“So why do you need to marry both of us? Or do you just need to marry one of us and we should play rock paper scissor for it?”

“Technically I only need to marry one of you, but I don’t want them pulling out any loopholes or something. So, it’d be great if one of you could be my consort for my role as Queen of Mirrors, and one could be my consort for my role as Crown Princess. You two can figure who’s who on that all that, I’m good with whatever.”

“Oooh, can I be consort for the Mirror Court? I can annoy Kon more that way.”

“I am amenable to that. Grandfather will have a fit when he learns that I can cut his access to the Pits off at my discretion and there’s nothing he can do about it.”

“Awesome, okay are you two good for meeting up at like, three? We can pop over to my Lair and get everything sorted out there.”

“Works for me, my only class til this afternoon is at one and the professor already said we’re cutting out early because she has to go out of town this weekend.”

“Four would be more agreeable if possible, I have to take Titus to the vet for his checkup.”

“Okay let’s aim for four then. It’s just signing some paperwork, making some quick blood-slash-ectoplasm pacts and swearing a couple binding oaths… Should only take like five or ten minutes?”

“They’re not gonna make you have a huge royal wedding or anything?”

“Nah. Dad keeps things pretty chill so as long as the paperwork is all in order we’ll be good. Though once Auntie Dorathea finds out she’s absolutely gonna make us have one. She loves planning weddings. Swear its what she makes her hoard out of somehow.”

“So long as we have a say in some of the proceedings I have no issue with that eventuality.”

“Same, it sounds like it’d be a fun way to annoy the Observants even more.”

“Don’t for get all the weirdos trying to be my suitors and all that bullshit.”

“We have an accord then. We can reconvene at the usual place.”

“Awesome, you two are the best! I gotta jet and let everyone know and get the ball rolling on the paperwork stuff. See you guys at four!”

With that, Nomad - Stella Phantom, Crown Princess of the Infinite Realms, Queen of Mirrors, Core of the Speedforce and ghostly hero of the Titans and the Justice League - tore a rip in the fabric of space and time and darted out of the room the same way she came. Through the mind-bending tear in reality the eerie, eye-searing green of the Infinite Realms glowed in all its unsettling glory, Phantom Keep a glittering expanse of night sky made solid in the distance.

Jon waved at her cheerfully as Damian gave a nod of farewell before both silently turned their attention back to their respective tablets as the portal closed behind their friend and teammate and the glimpse of the Ghost Zone disappeared again. Completely unbothered by the conversation just held or the life changing implications that came with them.

Jon was humming as he tapped away at something on the screen before him, Damian propping his head up on his fist in vague boredom as he frowned down at the information he was reading.

The rest of the room Nomad had left behind was caught in a frozen, stunned silence in the wake of the baffling conversation they’d all just been witness to. All eyes in the room darted between Flamebird and Pheonix seated calmly at the end of the table, then to the space where Nomad had disappeared to, back to the young men, and then towards the head of the table where Superman and Batman sat looking bewildered and a bit on the verge of heart attacks.

The short status update meeting was about to become much, much longer it seemed.

Though a lot more entertaining.

[blackenedsnow]

Heyy, if you’re comfortable doing so could I please get some Beetlejuice x fem!reader who’s a single mom? Just pretty much him being soft and comforting letting her know she’s doing a good job etc? Thank you in advance 💕💕💕 can be a proper fic or headcanons I’ll let you decide xx

beyond it

WARNING: References to the stress of single motherhood

PAIRING: Beetlejuice x Single Mother! Reader

NOTE: I absolutely loved writing this!! I hope you enjoy this, and thank you so much for the request 💕💕

SUMMARY: Beetlejuice surprises you by being a source of comfort, helping you see that you’re doing better than you give yourself credit for.

It was late—too late for you to still be up. But as a single mom, you didn’t have the luxury of falling into bed as soon as the day ended. No, there were dishes to clean, laundry to fold, and tomorrow to worry about. And of course, your child had woken up twice already, needing reassurance from a nightmare.

You were running on fumes, slumped on the couch, your face buried in your hands. It felt like all you ever did was work. Just when you thought you could finally close your eyes and sleep, your thoughts picked up again—worrying about what needed to be done tomorrow, whether you were doing enough, whether your child was okay.

“Hey, dollface, rough night?”

This fucking guy.

That voice—raspy, familiar—cut through the fog of exhaustion like nails on a chalkboard. Beetlejuice. You didn’t bother looking up. He was probably lounging in his usual spot, perched on the armrest of your couch with a stupid grin plastered on his face.

"Go away, BJ," you muttered half-heartedly. "Not tonight."

The ghoul groaned dramatically. "Aw, come on! And here I thought we were past the whole 'piss off, Beej' stage of our relationship." You felt a cold presence next to you, then his hand—decaying yet surprisingly gentle—lightly brushed your shoulder. "I mean, after all the times I’ve stuck around, don’t I get any appreciation?"

You exhaled sharply, finally lifting your head. "Appreciation? For what, exactly?"

"For being a goddamn delight, babes!" Beetlejuice beamed, leaning back against the couch and spreading his arms wide. "For hanging around when no one else does. Gotta say, not a lot of folks could handle a single mom with your level of stress."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't hide the tiny smile tugging at your lips. "If by 'hanging around,' you mean constantly being a nuisance, then yeah, sure."

Beetlejuice chuckled, his voice rough yet oddly soothing. His eyes, usually wild and manic, softened just a bit as they focused on you. “Ah, you love it. Don’t lie, babe.”

You shook your head, sinking deeper into the couch. "I’m just… tired, Beej. I'm really tired."

For once, he didn’t launch into another sarcastic quip. Instead, Beetlejuice shifted closer, his body language relaxed but attentive. “Yeah, I know. I can see it. You’ve been runnin' yourself ragged for, what, weeks? Months?”

Your eyes welled up, but you quickly blinked the tears away. “I just… I feel like I’m not doing enough. There’s always something I’m missing, something I should be doing better.”

Beetlejuice’s hand rested fully on your shoulder now, his touch surprisingly solid. "Oh, come on, you're killing it out here, babe. You think your kid’s got it bad? They've got you. And lemme tell ya, you’re doing a hell of a job. Better than most."

You glanced over at him, surprised by his sincerity. "Really? You think so?"

“Are you kidding? Babe, I see it. I see you juggling work, taking care of the kid, making sure they're happy. And yeah, it’s messy and chaotic, but guess what? They're fine. They're happy, ‘cause you’re busting your ass for 'em.” He leaned in a little closer, his expression for once free of mischief. “You’re doin' more than enough."

His words hit you hard, in a way you hadn’t expected. You didn’t know why, but hearing it from Beetlejuice—someone who you never thought would care about anything—meant something. It eased the tight knot that had been sitting in your chest all day.

“I just don’t want to mess them up,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “They deserve better than… than this.”

"Whoa, whoa, slow down there, sweetheart." Beetlejuice’s voice softened. He slipped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close. “They've got you, and that’s more than enough. You’re not perfect—who the hell is?—but you're trying. And that's what matters. Trust me, when they grow up, they're gonna see that.”

You allowed yourself to lean into him, resting your head against his chest. His suit smelled like a mix of dirt and decay, but there was something oddly comforting about the way he held you, like he was actually trying to be there for you, to support you in his own weird way.

“Hey, tell you what,” he said, his voice low. “Next time you feel like crap, I’ll stick around. We’ll cause some shit together, huh? Might help take the edge off.”

You chuckled softly, wiping at your eyes. “Yeah, maybe.”

Beetlejuice grinned, but it wasn’t the mischievous, cocky smirk you were used to. It was softer, almost tender. “You’re doin' good, doll. Don’t let anyone—including yourself—tell you otherwise.”

You looked up at him, and for the first time since he’d shown up in your life, you realized how much you appreciated him. Not just as the obnoxious ghost who wouldn’t leave you the fuck alone, but as someone who—despite his crude humor and questionable ethics—actually cared. Maybe not in the typical way, but in a way that mattered.

"Thanks, Beej," you whispered, closing your eyes as you let the exhaustion finally catch up to you. "I mean it."

Beetlejuice stayed quiet for a moment, just holding you close. "Anytime, babe. Anytime."

[hoodoo12]

Bad Date (2/2)

The conclusion. Beetlejuice takes his reward.

NSFW. Beetlejuice x f!reader

You’d walked home arm in arm with Beetlejuice, but he didn’t follow you inside once you were through your door.

“Gotta get rid of this thing,” he explained, holding up the baby sandworm he’d carried back from the restaurant.

He hadn’t crushed it under his heel, like he wanted to, because of your gasp of horror--“It’s just a baby!”--but he also refused to let you keep it even though you thought it was sort of cute in a look-but-don’t-touch-it kind of way.

“Why don’t you slip into something more comfortable, baby,” he continued, “and I’ll be back in a wink.”

You didn’t know how long a trip to Saturn actually took, but you agreed eagerly. You were so glad he’d come to your rescue!

Beetlejuice was gone between one blink and the next, and you locked your door behind you.

⁂

Something more comfortable, huh? You knew what he had in mind. You kicked off your heels and shed your dress. Your bra and panty set was lacy but plain pink. Digging through your drawers, you found a matching set that was black and silk, which would be more to his fancy. You debated a garter belt and stockings; most guys seemed to like them but Beetlejuice wasn’t most guys, and lots of time they were more in the way than worth it.

In the end you decided against them. Maybe you'd wear them in the future for him.

You sat, then stood, then sat again. You were full of nervous energy and just wanted him to get back from dumping that sandworm. Then, just when you thought maybe you should get a robe because you were getting chilly, he reappeared.

He looked just as put out as he did when you summoned him in the restaurant’s restroom, and he was covered in a fine layer of yellow dust.

“You’re back!” you said happily, redundantly.

Beetlejuice didn’t seem as elated as you were. “Gods, it’s been a solid day and a half since I sat down,” he groaned.

That didn’t make any sense to you; less than forty minutes ago he’d been sitting at your table at the restaurant, threatening your date. The hard expression on his face didn’t give you any room to mention that discrepancy, however.

“I’m glad you’re back,” you said instead.

He nodded, and looked over at you as if seeing you standing there for the first time. His eyes skipped down your mostly naked body, and a smirk slid oily across his face. It wasn’t the most pleasant expression.

“Oh. Right. This,” he said, and that wasn’t reassuring, either.

You opened your mouth to ask what the hell was going on; from what he’d said and how he’d looked you over you thought he’d wanted some action, but he continued before you could say anything.

“You said you owed me. Back at the restaurant, for saving you from that d-bag. Right?”

You had to agree.

The smirk on his lips lifted to a leer that showcased some of his sharper teeth. “And remember? I told you not to go on that date.”

That made you frown a little; it toed the line of possessiveness.

“You refuse to put a name to what we have, Beej, so there’s no reason for me not to think about dating other people!” you retorted, a little sharply.

Your response made him drop his chin and examine you from under his brows. It made you feel like you were under a microscope; it made him look a little dangerous. You didn’t cow away under his intense gaze, however; although you could feel one hand start to tremble, you stood your ground.

Finally he said, “Well then, baby, I think a little punishment is in order, don’t you?”

You wanted to snap something sharp back at him again, but a bolt of cold, then hot, fell and rose in your gut. Some of your sexual encounters with Beetlejuice were hard, simple fucking with few niceties or gentle romantic gestures, but nothing had ever stepped over the line into “punishment” territory. Did he mean spanking? Did he mean he expected you to suck his dick hard and exactly how he wanted it, with lots of spit and gasping for air like in a porno?

Or was it something even more?

You couldn’t deny that although a bit of worry wormed through you, it excited you too.

Beetlejuice didn’t seem to care you hadn’t answered him. In your silence he boldly looked you over again and said,

“That’s not bad, but--”

He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, and your bra and panties went from solid black to black and white striped. You should have known. He snapped his fingers and between one breath and the next you were suddenly on your bed, flat on your back. The blankets and top sheet had disappeared, and so had your pillows. Beetlejuice stood at the end of the bed, fully clothed, and staring down at you.

You moved to sit up.

“No. Nope!” he corrected you immediately, and an invisible hand forced you back down.

“I won’t make these too tight, babydoll,” he assured you, and before you could protest or ask what, exactly, he meant by that, your arms were stretched above your head and your wrists were held firmly by skeletal hands that appeared out of your headboard.

“Hey! Beej!” you exclaimed, slightly alarmed. You twisted against the restraint, a little.

In a flash, he was beside you on the mattress instead of standing at your feet. He leaned in close enough that you could smell the dirt on his breath, but not close enough to kiss you. He grabbed one of your wrists lightly, stilling your movement.

“Trust me,” he said in a low voice. It was almost, almost, a question.

You searched his face, especially his eyes, but despite the unexpected restraint and his announcement of “punishment” earlier, you didn’t find anything malicious hiding there. You couldn’t deny you were a little concerned, but you did trust him. So you nodded.

A quick, pleased smile flitted across his face, and he let your wrist go. The hands kept you in place.

“Now. I think one more thing would be a good idea--”

The last thing you saw was him lifting one eyebrow in your direction again before a blindfold covered your eyes.

Although surprised, you stopped yourself from crying out this time. From the weight and feel of the fabric on your face, you guessed it was his tie.

The mattress shifted as Beetlejuice got off the bed. Blinded and restrained, you didn’t know where he was in the room. He could still be beside you, at the foot of the bed again, or floating right above you! The unknown made you shiver a little, and it was hard to tell if it was in worry or anticipation.

You waited.

And waited.

And waited.

There was no sound of movement; no creak of a floorboard or subtle rustling of his clothing. There was nothing touching you. You felt suspended, with no stimulus but the mattress under you, the bony fingers holding your wrists, and the slightly moldy smelling cloth draped over your eyes. It was hard to relax when you didn’t know what to expect.

You waited some more.

Suddenly a horrible thought ambushed you.

What if Beetlejuice put you in this position, making you feel exposed and vulnerable, and then he just left you here?!

There was still no sound of anyone else in the room. He didn’t breathe and could be as quiet . . . well, as quiet as the dead when he wanted to be.

The same dread thought rushed through your mind again. Did he leave you here alone? Was this the punishment he meant?!

You pulled against the skeletal restraints but they held you fast. You tossed your head back and forth to try and loosen the blindfold. Gulping and tasting the beginnings of panic, you weren’t too proud or embarrassed to call for him. You opened your mouth to ask where he was, yell, demand to know what was going on--

Before the words came, a finger slipped between your lips.

You were so surprised you let your mouth hang open for a moment. The finger moved past your teeth and nudged your tongue. It had a mild flavor that you imagined dust might taste like, and you didn’t let yourself think about it any further than that. A second finger dipped into your slack jaw, and with two of them pressing your tongue you closed your mouth on them and sucked.

A short chuckle came from somewhere to your left. At least you knew where he was now.

Parting his fingers with your tongue, you gave them both attention. When he must have felt they were sufficiently wet, he dislodged them. You nipped the tips of them as they retreated back past your teeth, and Beetlejuice made a slightly deeper noise.

For a second you were disconnected again, then his fingers moved down the side of your neck, to the hollow between your collar bones, to between your breasts, leaving a drying trail of spit in their wake.

He lifted them, and you found them against your lips again. You opened your mouth with no reluctance for him.

His fingers rooted in your mouth once more, and again you sucked and licked them. This time when he pulled away a thin moan escaped you, following after them. He repeated the trail he’d made the first time on the opposite side of your neck and down, ending at the fabric holding your bra together in the front.

There was a beat of a pause, and finally the mattress shifted as he joined you, crawling up between your legs.

You thought he was on your left?

Never mind. You automatically hooked your legs around him and earned a “tsk” in displeasure in return. The next thing you knew, thin bony hands grabbed your ankles and your legs were straightened and spread to accommodate him without your needy demand.

Spread-eagled before him made you feel even more exposed, but at least you knew where he was now.

Beetlejuice must have settled on his knees because you could feel only feel the outer fabric of his trousers between your legs. Then his hands were on you: stroking your sides from armpit to hips, pinching occasionally. It both tickled and made your skin warm, and you wiggled a little under the caress. It didn’t feel like he was sitting back on his heels. You couldn’t quite picture the posture he was in; he must be straining over you, holding himself at an awkward angle so no other part of his body touched you--

When his hands left your sides and cupped your breasts, giving you a sharper pinch through the fabric of your bra, you gave up trying to figure out what position he was in.

He stroked your chest in long movements too. You were frustrated by the lack of skin on skin contact before he was, and had to endure him playing with your tits but not actually stimulating them exactly how you liked for much longer than you wanted. By the time he was bored with it too, your nipples were hard and the fabric brushing against them hurt a little.

Luckily, Beetlejuice wasn’t known for never-ending patience. Just as you were going to tell him to hurry up, already--and damn the consequences--you heard the faintest snapping of his fingers and suddenly, your tits were free and exposed.

The sudden brush of cooler air made you nipples tighten even more, and once again you heard a chuckle from him.

His fingers closed around them. After the muted stimulation, that touch was like an electrical shock and you arched towards him with a gasp. He rolled and pulled them gently, continuing to make you gasp, and when the mattress shifted again and his mouth closed over one of them, you bucked and moaned.

Beetlejuice’s tongue and mouth weren’t room temperature, but not warm either. The shock of him taking a nipple into his wet mouth made you involuntarily try to reach down and grab his head, but you were held in place by the restraints. This time you felt him laugh at your aborted effort, and he sucked at you until you writhed and cried out. He continued to play with the other one, then switched to give them both the same attention.

Each suck and nibble sent pleasure down your body, where it settled deep in your gut and groin. You couldn’t help but want friction between your legs, but Beetlejuice wasn’t touching you there and your thighs were held apart. That built a different frustration in you.

Finally, he released you from the torment he’d given your now-tender nipples. Before you could say anything, his mouth found a patch of skin lower on your rib cage that it liked, and he sucked there too.

He kissed and licked and sucked his way over your torso, once darting up to your neck to latch on there. You felt the pressure of his teeth indent the thin skin and turned your head, not to displace him, but to give him freer access to the spot. As you did, he stilled completely and you froze too. Arousal tempered with a drop of fear swirled through you; you wondered what was going through his mind?

Beetlejuice didn’t break your skin. The intent was there, you could tell. Instead, after that long moment of anticipation, he released you.

You were panting as you turned your head back upright again. You could feel he hadn’t moved away, and a slight breath on your face clued you in that he panted as well. Some of his breather habits came to the surface in situations like this. You couldn’t see him, of course, but thought that if you lifted your head up off the mattress you’d find his mouth.

He obviously didn’t want you to move; if you dared try to kiss him, what would he do next? Would another skeletal hand come from nowhere to cross your forehead and pin your head to the mattress?

You decided not to risk it.

Beetlejuice’s hands roamed down your body again, and just as you felt him shift to move away again, his tongue licked a vertical stripe up over your lips. It startled you and you gasped; the tip of it darted inside for a split second but before you could open your mouth more for a proper kiss, it was gone again. The next noise you made was a sigh of disappointment as he continued to work his way back down your body.

He gave you the same attention as before. Sucking. Licking. Nipping. There wasn’t a spot on your front that he hadn’t lavished some attention on. A faint odor of stale saliva drifted to you from the amount of spit he’d coated you with, but you didn’t care. You wiggled under him, gasped and moaned, and tried to nudge him further down. You wanted him and his mouth between your legs.

Even though he hadn’t done anything--not even cupped you, not even dragged a solitary finger along the fabric of your panties, not even come close enough that you could feel his clothing brush you there--your pussy felt hot. You were wet. You just wanted this teasing to stop and for him to pay some attention there--

As if reading your mind, Beetlejuice shifted and plopped himself down between your legs. He was no longer on his knees but on his stomach; you could feel his--unclothed? When did that happen?--shoulders pushing your thighs further apart. His fingernails dug under the top edge of your panties.

When you lifted your hips so he could pull them off you--gods how you wanted him to pull them off you, or make them disappear like your bra, or something--he let the elastic snap back into place.

You groaned.

You didn’t care any more. You were going to beg him--

Beetlejuice’s mouth covered your pussy.

His hands kept you grounded by holding your hips. He didn’t strip you naked; he mouthed and licked and sucked you through your panties. The silk became heavy and soaked completely through with the combination your wetness and his spit, and the smooth feel of the fabric between your clit and his tongue made you writhe.

You cried out. You pulled against the restraints, all of them, you wanted to grab his head, you wanted to squeeze him with your thighs to hold him in place, you wanted him to suck your clit so hard, you wanted him to push aside your panties and shove those fingers that had been in your mouth into your pussy--you wanted not just that but his tongue and his cock inside you--

Your cries turned to sobs as he teased you. Bliss ratcheted higher and higher in your gut. Even with sodden fabric preventing direct contact between the two of you, you were going to come. Your throat tightened, your limbs shook with the force of the tension you used straining against the hands holding you back. Your hips canted instinctually to provide him better access and that first spark of an orgasm rippled through you--

Beetlejuice stopped.

All touching ceased. His mouth was no longer against the wet mess your panties had become. You hadn’t realized how tightly he’d been gripping your hips until his hands were off you too.

The abrupt lack of contact made you cry out in a different voice, filled with distress and bafflement. For a moment your body arched towards him, still seeking stimulation. You couldn’t hold the position for long, pulling against the restraints, however, and you flopped back to the mattress with another sob.

Your body shifted as Beetlejuice moved over one of your legs to be beside you. The movement made air current drift over your body and you shivered due to the sweat that had broken out over you.

This was not what you expected when he said “punishment”. You could have accepted and even gotten into a spanking. You would have been okay with him using you like a slut. But a tormenting tease with no finale? It was almost too cruel.

A finger hooked under your blindfold and pushed it away. You felt too weak and disappointed to thank him for removing it. You just wanted the bony hands on your wrists and ankles to be spirited away as well, so you could curl into a fetal position and try to will your body to forget all the pleasure it’d just been subjected to and then denied. You imagined that Beetlejuice was going to tell you that he was leaving and that you weren’t allowed to touch yourself; he’d be watching and if you brought yourself to orgasm he’d probably be devious enough to repeat what he did tonight the next time you got together with him too.

When you opened your eyes, however, the sight that greeted you wasn’t what you expected.

Beetlejuice was naked, as you’d surmised, coated in a thin layer of sweat, like you. The yellow dust that had been on his clothing had left a thin coating on his neck. His hair was wilder than normal, and his lips were shiny as he mimicked breathing through his mouth. His pupils were blown in deep arousal. His erection pressed heavily into your side.

Once again, he interrupted you as you opened your mouth to say something to him. With his lips near your ear, he groaned in a guttural voice,

“This was supposed to be punishment. A punishment! For you and me. Neither of us was going to get off, neither of us deserve it--”

He choked his own words off with another wordless groan as he involuntarily rutted against you.

You tried to wrap your head around what he just said. You weren’t quite able to.

“Beej, just . . . what?” you panted.

His lips found your neck and ear and he dragged his tongue along your skin. He continued to caress you sloppily between words.

“It was supposed to be punishment for both of us, baby,” he groaned. “You for going out on a goddamn date and me for not telling you I want you for my-goddamned-self. I want you, baby, I don’t want you seeing anyone else. I wanted to get you so hot and bothered and then stop, just for a tease, just to show you there's no one but me who can make you feel so good, but the sounds you made and the taste of you--fuck--I’m so fucking turned on I just want to fuck you so much right now--”

His voice rose to a desperate, needy whine at the last word. You were so wet between your legs you didn’t know it was possible to get even wetter, but heat surged through you again.

“Beej, Beej--” you croaked to get his attention. When he lifted his face to yours you said in the same desperate tone, “I learned my lesson. Did you learn yours?”

“Fuck, baby. Shit. Yeah!”

You looked him dead in the eyes. “Then get these hands off me and fuck me.”

At your demand, a surprised then lecherous smile broke over his face. He kissed you properly then, his tongue diving into your mouth and stealing your breath. The next second your arms and legs were released and you dragged him bodily on top of you. With his weight pressing you down you tried to shimmy out of your dripping panties; with a flicking motion of his finger Beetlejuice assisted and made them disappear as well.

With one hand grabbing the back of his head and the other gripping his waist, you didn’t release him or his mouth as he reached between the two of you, adjusted himself and pushed forward, filling you in a single, delicious thrust with his cock. You cried out; he did too with a deeper noise, and he set a frantic, blistering pace that would have not worked if you hadn’t been so thoroughly aroused from all the provocation he’d graced you with.

Your pussy felt hot, slick, and tight. The friction was glorious and you didn’t check yourself as your fingernails dug into him. Usually this rough and swift thrusting was enough to undo him first, but this was exactly what you needed to make your nerve-endings explode again.

You came with a sustained cry, locking your legs around him to keep him deep inside you.

Beetlejuice rocked his hips a little, instinctually, but held mostly still as you were lost in waves of pleasure. Just as you were coming back to the surface and opened your eyes to focus on him again, his brow furrowed and he pushed forward, harder into you, moaning with an open mouth as he came too.

You were shaking. He was shaking. It took several moments for you to catch your breath and will your hands and legs to open enough to let him go. It took him an extra moment to unglue himself from your belly and torso. You noticed the palm that had held the back of his neck was coated with that yellow grime, but you couldn’t make yourself care. Carefully he sat back, and you groaned in a combination of pleasure and disappointment as his cock slipped out of you.

Beetlejuice crawled over your leg and collapsed on the mattress beside you.

The two of you lay panting in euphoric exhaustion. You may have made a mistake going out with some random guy, but the evening couldn’t have ended any better. You turned to face Beetlejuice, to thank him for coming to your rescue and for the best punishment you’d ever received.

Just as you opened your mouth, your stomach growled. He looked at you with a smirk, so you slapped him lightly on the chest.

“I didn’t actually get to eat dinner, remember?” you informed him, instead of telling him the things you meant to. You sat up, swung your feet over the side of the bed, and stood up. As you made your way to the door, you asked, “You want anything from the kitchen?”

“Nope. I don’t like seeing you leave, but I love watching you go.”

You threw an eye roll over your shoulder at him but didn’t hide your grin. You could thank him later, and you were sure he knew how you felt anyway.

fin!

[blackberries45]

Until You Tell Me

Beetlejuice x reader (no pn used)

Fluffy short one shot

As always, grammar and spelling ain't my thing

Notes: I honestly had a slightly heavier theme here but changed it. You can insert anything that is currently bumming you out. I’m sending you a big hug!!

Warnings: just general unrest and needing comfort

*****

The alarm went off as usual. Stretching, you sat up and swung your legs over the side of your bed. Ugh. The thoughts from the night before flooded back. You could feel the crust on your cheeks from the tears. Your throat burned as well. Although a sunny morning was starting to take light outside, it felt like a cloud had just formed above you. Uh oh. Here they come again.

You held yourself tightly as you rocked back and forth crying. You didn't know how you even had more tears left. A solid minute went by and the headache that had been dulled by sleep was now back in full force.

As you lifted your hand to wipe your face during a moment of rest, you saw him flicker in the corner through your desk. Beej did that little flicker thing when he wanted you to call for him.

"What do you want? I'm not in the mood" you held yourself again as you stared in the corner. It took half a second before he was standing right in front of you. Normally you'd scream from his sudden full body apparition. Today you didn't have it in you.

Realizing he wasn't going to get a reaction he slowly sauntered back over to the corner he had been flickering in. Turning to lean back against your corner desk, he crossed his black boots in front of himself as he leaned against the top. "Now what would a delicate little flower like yourself have to cry so hard and so loud over that a dead guy can hear ya and have to come runnin'?"

"No one asked you to come running." You turned your head slowly towards him and glared.

"Yikes! Spill your guts babe or I'll spill mine" he tilted his head down so he could look at you through his lashes and raised an eyebrow.

You turned away from him. "I just want...I'm just... I'm unhappy. And I can't shake it. And everyone tells me it's going to get better and I wake up and nothing has changed. I feel the same way I did the day before. I’m so sick and tired of crying but it seems to be all I'm capable of doing right now.”

“But what is it?” his voice had slightly smoothed out. It's what you guessed he sounded more like when he was still breathing. It happened now and then when he was being genuine.

You couldn’t look at him now though, no matter how soft he was trying to be. You simply shook your head slowly side to side.

In a flash you felt the bed move. Before you could think about where he was, a pair of hands were pulling you backwards and wrapping around you, just under your chest. The "eek" you squeaked out only encouraged a throaty chuckle from him.

"Now here's what's gonna happen babe. We are going to lay here until you open up and tell me how to help you get over whatever this is”

"Beej, I don't have time for this! I..."

"No, you don't have time to keep torturing yourself. You breathers only have so long. You can be in hell when you're dead if you'd like. I'll take you"

With a snap of his long fingers, your computer screen came to life with his favorite movie.

"Oh no!" You whined and bumped your head back against his chest "This movie scares me!"

"Better for me then" he squeezed you back against him again. "Just let me know if you need to be distracted during a scary part" a not so subtle thump hit the small of your back. Before you could wiggle away, he calmed you down again. "Now now, let's not get feisty babe. I'm just playing with you. But you gotta say who's the ghost with the most so I can stay. "

You rolled your eyes but did as he asked, saying his name three times while fixing your pillow. You decided you had to give him a small bit of attitude now that you were feeling a little better. "I swear to God if anything crawls on me you'll regret being this close to me" you put your arms across his, nestling in again with your back against his chest.

"Noted" you felt his smile as he kissed the back of your head.

“Thank you” without almost any sound left your lips. Beetlejuice just gently squeezed you again in response.