#leave suggestions in my ask box!

[eatmy-customjorts]

Mitsukou Week Day 6 - Photograph / Video Games

[mcyt-parodies]

'a guy that I might be into' from be more chill but instead 'A guy that I might be obsessed with'

And it's Joel singing to Iskall about etho lol

(also suspicious all the ones so far are about Joel

Oh I loved this idea! I hope you’re as happy with it as I am! It was actually pretty easy to create compared to some of the others I’ve done! So enjoy:

A Guy That I Might Be Obsessed With (A Be More Chill Parody)

[Joel]

Say there's this person you see on the server most days

You've known him awhile now

You're used to thinking about him in a certain way

From the persona that he displayed

Then something changes, and he changes

From a guy that I’d never be obsessed with

Into a guy that I’d be obsessed with

From a guy that I'd never be obsessed with

Into a guy that I’d be obsessed with

Is he worth it?

Iskall?

Is he?

[Iskall, to Stress]

Is he talking about me?

[Stress]

Of course he is. You’ve been wearing new cologne. Keep it up!

[Joel]

Say there's this person that you kinda knew

[Random Hermits]

He is totally into you

[Joel]

You thought that you had him pegged, but now you can tell

He's gone from a

[Joel and a reluctant Gem]

Guy that I’d never be obsessed with

Into a guy that I’d be obsessed with

From a guy that I’d never be obsessed with

Into a guy that I’d be obsessed with

[Joel]

Is he worth it?

Iskall?

[Iskall and Stress]

Absolutely

[Joel]

I don't always relate to the players I meet

Except when I'm building things

And there are so many changes that I'm going through

And why am I telling this to you?

Guess there's a part of me that wants to

I guess a part of me wants to, who knew?

I guess a part of me likes to talk to you

I guess a part of me likes to, who knew?

I guess a part of me likes to sit with you

I guess a part of me likes to, who knew?

I guess a part of me likes to hang with you

I guess a part of me

Back to building bases

I know that it's weird but it's totally true

The guy that I’m kinda obsessed with

[Iskall]

The guy that you’re kinda obsessed with

[Joel]

Yeah that

[Iskall and Joel]

Guy that I’m kinda obsessed with

[Joel]

Is...

Etho

[jorvikzelda]

i have discovered the Dangers of not clarifying very clearly between canon and headcanon and fanon when telling my friends about hollow knight, such as. i just found out one of my friends thought quirrel and monomon were canonically married

[pamped-up-pup]

doodle-ish dragonite to practice how i wanna stylize it :3

[yuji-enjoyer]

…want to draw but have no ideas

[snazzyjazzyazzy]

My favourite thing in life is going around my mutuals blogs and asking them questions

[ozzgin]

I just finished playing Firewatch and the cozy, lonely vibes gave me another monster idea! You got a summer job as a fire watch for the closest National Park. All you have to do is to sit in your tower, and...watch. For fires. Sounds boring? Worry not, your supervisor is there to keep you company over the radio. Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, obsessive behavior, suggestive ending

"And? What are you running away from?"

"Excuse me?"

You raise your eyebrows at the unexpected question coming from the radio. The deep voice belongs to your supervisor, the man who'll guide you throughout your stay at the National Park.

"No one picks up an isolated job in the mountains out of sheer desire. Especially someone as young as you." He chuckles briefly, then resumes in a more professional tone: "My apologies. You don't have to answer that."

What a strange way to begin the conversation, you think to yourself. Yet this nonchalance and casualty is all you have for the following months. The other watchtowers don't talk much, if at all. You're entirely alone in the wilderness, save for the mysterious man on the radio.

Slowly, you begin to warm up to his chatty nature. He likes to ask a lot of questions. A terribly curious individual, though you can understand his reasoning: he's been working for the Park for over a decade. How does one survive without another human being?

He never leaves his tower, and thus you've never seen his face. He's content, you're indifferent. Occasionally, he'll mention sketching you to pass the time.

"How would you describe your eyes, (Y/N)?" he'll ask between his pencil scribbles. "I see. I'm sure they're beautiful. Why are you suddenly quiet? Have you forgotten how to take a compliment? I'm just messing with you, kiddo."

You haven't witnessed a single fire since coming here, despite the torrid summer heat. Your days are spent hiking without aim and talking to your supervisor.

One morning, you wake up to the grating beep of the radio instead of your alarm. You pick up the small device with an irritated grunt.

"Would you like to meet?"

You need a moment to process the words. Are you finally going to greet the one man who's kept you distant company for weeks? Intriguing. You mumble your agreement, still half-asleep.

As you make your way down the hill, you notice a supply station covered in moss and overgrown vegetation. You check your map, just to be sure. There shouldn't be anything here. What a peculiar thing to stumble upon. You approach the old wooden box and lift the lid carefully.

The musty inside is filled with rows of newspapers and some scattered notes. You pluck one newspaper out, and rest your eyes on the first headline.

"National Park is saying goodbye to its employees. The area will be permanently closed after the devastating fire."

You gawk at the title, then at the photographed location.

It's your watchtower.

You scramble to read the rest of the paragraphs, words slipping behind in your frantic search. This forest has been sealed off for years. You recognize the name of your supervisor in the report: a father of three, loved by everyone, died tragically before a rescue team could reach him.

"Found anything interesting, kiddo?"

You turn around with mild hesitation. Whoever this impersonating maniac is, or what he wants, is rather irrelevant at this point. You're trapped alone with him.

Across from you stands a creature, resembling a chimera more than a human being. Long, grotesque limbs ending in black claws, hollow eyes, and mangled rows of razor-sharp teeth put together in a grin. Monstrous.

You're out of breath.

"That looks great", the creature remarks cheerfully.

"Don't use my voice to talk. It's embarrassing to hear myself like that", you lecture it as you spread out the food onto the picnic blanket.

It switches back to the supervisor's soft, masculine tone.

"Sorry, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."

The monster extends one bony hand over your head, fanning out the fingers and dragging them across your hair in gentle strokes. What a precious little human you are.

You did not run away. A terrifying thought: losing you after all the time spent together. It didn't want to chase you down and make it even worse for you. But you stayed, you truly did.

"By the way", you say as you bite into your sandwich, stretching out your legs. "Is it you who prevents the fires? Usually it's a common occurrence here, especially in summer."

You recall the scorching flames from the newspaper.

"Yes. To keep you safe, you understand."

"Not only did you lie to me about the job, but you kept me out of work, too", you whine. "I got bored to death! Days on end!"

You're suddenly pushed down into the blanket, and you stare into the spiraling, empty sockets, confused.

"I can entertain you to your heart's desire, (Y/N)."

Its snout widens in a flirty smile, releasing a bizarre succession of clicks. Is it laughing in its natural voice?

You blush.

"I suppose there are some ways..." you suggest cheekily, unbuttoning your shirt.

[More Monsters] | [More Original Works]

[cosmosis]

MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - jealousy

miguel gets jealous possessive after a new intern flirts with you this is part of the same universe as my call oneshot!

Being 2nd in charge of the multiverse is... honestly not that hard for you. It’s mostly just co-leading, and being a secretary. Lyla helps out a bunch, but sometimes, a sassy AI can only do so much. 

Jess informed you of a new intern she recruited. Apparently, he’s having his first day today, which means you’ll probably have to do a quick run-through of things with him later. 

For now, it’s your fated duty to sit with Miguel at his desk so he doesn’t get all pouty later. He starts huffing and puffing when you aren’t near, takes it out on the kids sometimes. 

Thanks to your suggestion, Miguel invested in a nice desk and swivel chair for the office, so now it looks more like an actual workspace instead of a maniac’s plot room. (either way, he his one lmao)

Since Lyla’s gone for the time being, you’re standing up on the office platform, tapping away at a multitude of screens. Miguel lays lazily in the office chair, swiveled up behind you to rub his face into your upper back, as well as run his hands along your tummy. 

“Hun, you gotta let go. I needa tour the intern.” You mutter, closing in on an ID photo of the recruit.

“No.“

“Well, if I don’t do it, then who will?“ You ask. 

“Jess.“

“She’s busy on her break. Pregnant women need breaks, you know.“

“Ugh. I don’t want you to leave.“ He whines. squeezing you tighter. 

You start squirming out of his grip, pulling his pinky off of your stomach. Inching away, you push Miguel away by his head. Reluctantly, he starts letting you go, lazily running his hands onto the skin of your hips and lower thighs before letting go. 

“I’ll see you in a bit, baby.“ You say, scuffing up his hair with your palm. Gracefully, you leap down from the platform, somersaulting onto the floor and skating out the exit. You hop over a few stray cardboard boxes. 

Miguel watches you stroll away, and fixes his hair back into place. 

Lyla magically appears, phasing in and out with a different sly look each time. She snickers, flickering all around Miguel’s head. 

“Whipped.“

“Shut the fuck up.“

. . .

Miguel’s blood starts to boil as soon as you roll in with that stupid, bastard of an intern. He’s too close to you for comfort, so close to his arm nudging yours... Miguel’s teeth start to clench, his fangs close to drawing blood from his mouth. He’s paying too much attention to you, there’s a vibe he gets that he hates to his core. 

Everything about him is aggravating; the blonde hair, the snarky smirk, all of it.  

“...and this is Miguel’s office!“ You say, gesturing your hand to the majority of the area. 

“Sweet, nice to meet the bossman.“

Bossman, his ass. Miguel would only ever let you call him bossman. 

“Miguel! Come down!“ You yell, and his heart warms in his chest. He turns around from his standing form on the office platform, eyeing the intern in order to scare him a bit. 

“Hey, what’s up man! Glad to finally meet the man behind the slaughter!“ The intern exclaims, his hands rested on his hips. 

Miguel fights every urge to both roll his eyes and tackle the recruit, keeping a somewhat straight face on. He chuckles a little, not a single trace of a smile on his face. 

“Heh, yeah? Excited to meet the bossman?“ Miguel taunts, but it looks like the intern can’t tell he is. 

“Heck yeah dude! Where do I start?“

Miguel starts nodding a little, plastering on a face smile, chuckling a bit...

Before he throws the entire office chair at the recruit. Not to hit you, though. He’d never, ever hit you. 

Instantly, the intern turns away, shielding his body with his hands. In the nick of time, though, you latch your webbing onto the chair, slinging it away to side before it could harm anyone. You cross your arms. 

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry about tha- MIGUEL!“ You scream. 

And he throws a literal file cabinet at the man. Again, you latch it out of way without problem. 

“What th'heck, man?! What’s your fuckin’ problem?!“ The intern yells, spreading his arms out. 

“My fuckin’ problem is you nagging my wife!“ He roars. 

“Wait a sec- she’s your wife?“

Miguel then  leaps down from the platform, chin held up high in a sinister glare. Slowly, he steps over towards the both of you, fixing his eyes on the intern the entire time. 

Miguel’s tall, really tall compared to the newbie. He pokes his finger to the recruit, leaning in real close. 

“Stay at least 5 feet away from my wife at all times.“ Miguel utters, and you kinda feel bad for the new guy. 

You cross your arms. “C’mon, Miguel. He’s literally new, take it easy on him!” You say back, and Miguel pouts, whines. Possessively, he reaches over to you, pulling in you in by the hip to try to soothe you. It doesn’t work, and you present yourself from giving into his needy touches.  

And then, you turn around back to the newbie. “Gosh, I’m so sorry about that! He’s usually not like this-”

“Man, fuck this.“ The intern exclaims, taking a few steps back in agitation. “Take me back home, I ain’t dealin’ with this shit!“

He storms off, kicking a stray cardboard box on the way out. 

“Aw, crap.“

“Finally.“

You swerve back around, hands on your hips. “Miguel, that was uncalled for.”

“Yes it was! He was smothering all over you!“ He yells, throwing his hands up in the air like it was the most obvious thing ever. 

“Well, now thanks to you, we lost a recruit.“

“One of literally thousands!“

“And now, there’s papers everywhere on the floor!“

“Shhh, honey, I’ll clean it up later.“

Ignoring your frown, Miguel finally pulls you into him, pressing your lower back into his own with a nose into your hair.

“I saw the way he put his arm around you. He was flirting with you too. Hated it.“ Miguel utters. 

“When?“ You ask.

“On the surveillance.“ He says, and you sigh. He’s right, the guy was flirting with you for a bit, but you chose to ignore it so you could get over with the tour faster. 

“Eh, he gave me the heebie jeebies from the beginning.“ You say, and Miguel automatically squeezes you tighter into him, a deep grumble bellowing from his inner throat.

“I’m never letting you tour anyone ever again.“ Miguel admits.

“After that? Go ahead.“ You scoff, and finally, he sighs in relief. 

He tries drags you back to the office platform again, but then forgets that he threw the chair, grumbling in regret. Instead, he just hovers behind you for the rest of the day, occasionally pressing a smooch to your head. 

[35gofbeansprouts]

i miss annoying webpages that were annoying bc they seemed careless .. everything is equally annoying these days except they purposely coded it to do that

[biteyoubiteme]

I make it sticky like

yeonjun x fem!reader

synopsis: you decide to ditch condoms. 

warnings: 🔞!!! slight breeding kink?, no protection, talk of birth control, yeonjun calls reader baby, creampie, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 1.2k 

an: a little something for yeonjuns bday! not proofread sorry! feedback is appreciated :)) [m.list]

It wasn't a big deal when you suggested ditching condoms. the two of you on a facetime call while you sat alone in your apartment studying. yeonjun had been tasked by his roommates to pick a few things they had forgotten to grab for dinner. picking up the phone with a single question for you since he was already at the store.

“I don’t remember if I left any spare condoms at your place and I know I'm out at mine after the last time you were over,”

“um let me check,” and even though you didn’t live together you both had drawers of things at the other apartment. spare changes of clothes, toiletries, and random pieces of jewelry found in every nook and cranny. you shuffled over to your side first checking and coming up empty. When you pulled open yeonjuns drawer you found the little empty box holding it up in front of your phone to show him, “Nope all used up,” you crumpled the thin cardboard tossing it in the bin next to your desk.

“I'll pick up a box for mine and a box for yours,” you could see him examining the fruit second in front of him,“how do you know if you’re grabbing good apples?” he asks at the same time you say, “I mean you don’t have to,”

you had already set your phone back up against your open laptop, pen in hand ready to get back to going over your notes when he muttered a soft, “what?” it was the way he had said it that made you look up. all efforts toward picking out the right fruit were gone as he thought over whether he had heard you right or not.

“I mean I've been on my birth control for a few months now but it’s just a suggestion if you’re more comfortable with condoms still that's fine too,”

“No, I'll just leave them off the list then,” and he was back to looking at the apples, brows furrowed and his jaw tight, “and i'll just pick up strawberries instead,”

it was the end of that conversation and you didn’t think about it much, you two had been having sex for longer than you expected the two of you to last without ditching condoms so it seemed so natural a progression. The fact you two hadn’t forgotten once or twice to come prepared was something to be a little proud of. and when you wished yeonjun a safe drive back home hanging up your call you didn't think you would hear back from him until after dinner.

To your surprise, you got a knock on your door and he was standing right in front of you. “what are you doing here I thought-“

“I just dropped off whatever I got I couldn’t stay there,”

you pulled open the door letting him in, “why? I thought you had been excited for-,” you had only just twisted the lock when he had you pinned against the door. hands cupping your cheeks as he pressed his lips to yours, you almost couldn't catch your breath, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt letting him have control.

“You can’t drop a bombshell and not reap the consequences,” he mutters in between kisses, lips working down your jaw, nipping at your skin.

“bombshell? jjunie what are you talking about?” but you realize almost as soon as the words are out of your mouth aided by the way his erection is pushed against you. “oh,” you breathe, his hips rocking against yours for friction. how you didn’t realize the switch in his demeanor as soon as you made the suggestion was lost on you, but it was exactly the look he gave when teased him in public, all his short answers and slight pout making sense now.

“I need you so bad,” his hands already pushing into the waistband of your shorts. the two of you stumbled to your room and when the back of your legs hit the bed you fell back taking him along with you.

In all the time you've been together yeonjun never skipped out on getting you off at least once before having you get off another time on his cock. only he was frantic in stripping you down, your hand instinctively reaching out to the nightstand only for your wrist to be caught in his grasp, “all out,” he reminds you free hand circling your clit, dipping along your folds to check how wet you are.

“habit,” you gasp, spreading your legs, rolling your hips to try and meet his fingers but he pulls his hand away to grab his aching cock.

as soon as he presses into you, you can tell the difference, the both of you letting out deep moans. every slow inch stretching you out, no barrier as you feel every ridge and vein. you’re practically sucking him in, his hips stuttering in their thrusts at the feeling of bottoming out, his face is pressed into your neck as he tries to calm himself, tell himself to take it slow but you’re a little devil as you mutter, “are you going to pump me full of your cum?”

you can feel his moan rumble through his chest, cock twitching inside you at the question. he doesn't even care if he seems desperate because he is, he won't ever hide that he wants you. “yes,” he nods, moving so that he notches the back of your knees in the crook of his elbows. “I'm going to make you fucking sticky with how much comes out,”

you’re completly stuffed full of his cock, hips snapping into yours as he picks up the pace, the soft slapping sounds growing louder and louder, the angel you’re at sends him right to you gspot, your head rolling back as you reach out to grab his biceps, nails digging into his skin. your orgasm is building in the pit of your stomach as yeonjun mumbles, “Beg, beg me for my cum,”

“Please, please, I need it jjunie, I want to be stuffed full of it,” his hair is stuck to his brow, his moans building up in his throat as he gets sloppy with his thrusts. “I'm going to fuck you full of it baby,” he gives a particularly hard thrust that sends you over the edge, pussy convulsing around him as you cum.

“I'm gonna-“ he can’t even get the words out before his eyes are rolling back all his muscles tensing as he cums, body trembling as he shoots his hot load inside you every slow thrust pushing it further and further into you. his orgasm lasts so much longer than usual, the intensity shocking him as he presses himself against you, holding you as close as he can.

“fuck,” he says against your pulse trying to catch his breath, “I didn’t think i’d cum so fast,” you can’t help but giggle bushing your fingers through his hair. When he finally pulls out he looks in amazement, “Push it out baby,” thumb rubbing at your clit making you twitch as he watches how your mixed wetness drips down and out of you.

“I've wanted to see that for so long” he slides his fingers through your folds picking up as much of his cream as he can before shoving it right back into you, your knees trying to close in at the sensation. “just look at that,” he whispers looking at all the sticky slick on his fingers, “I could get used to this,”

🏷 taglist: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Route To Sin - Eddie Munson

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: eddie decides to go on a roadtrip with you to visit your sister in vegas, when you stop at a themed motel on the way, things quickly take a filthy turn.

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: my first eddie munson fic!! i’ve loved this man for two years, i just finally decided to put it on paper lol, please let me know what y’all think!!

TW: dom!eddie, slight brat tamer!eddie, reader has a sister, drug use (weed), food mention, marriage talk, dacryphilia, breeding kink, daddy kink, bathtub sex, oral fixation, unprotected sex (don’t do this), creampie, cowgirl, mirror sex, degradation (brat, whore), porn mention, spanking mention, pet names (doll, babydoll, sweet girl, sweetheart, angel), hair pulling, fem + afab reader, reader gets slightly insecure at the end

Rating: R, 18+

——

A waft of earthy smoke billowed from the open driver’s side window, the familiar smell pulling Eddie’s attention back to the van. You knelt on the bench seat, body stretched across the expanse of the front cab to rest your folded arms against the edge of the window frame, silently watching your boyfriend pump gas. The last of the joint you’d been passing back and forth dangled limply between your pointer and middle finger, careful to avoid dropping the simmering butt and accidentally lighting the whole place up.

“If you keep blowin’ that roach shit my way I’m gonna leave you here.” That signature sarcasm rang heavy in his tone, canines peeking out from under his top lip with the smile he flashed at you.

He shut the fuel door, grabbing the roach out of your hand before snubbing it out against the heel of his boot and tossing it into the ashtray on top of the nearest trash can.

“I gotta go in to pay, do you want anything?” He fumbled with his wallet, pulling the wad of crumpled bills out of the worn leather.

“Get me a slice?” You asked, tilting your head toward the neon in the window that read ‘Pizza: Hot To Go’ in blinking red letters. He nodded, hitting a light jog into the convenience store, wallet chain slapping against his thigh with every step.

When you suggested a roadtrip to visit your sister in Nevada, you hadn’t fully taken into account how long you’d need to be in the van. Hawkins to Vegas wasn’t exactly a short trip, two thousand miles to be exact, and as much as you loved spending time with Eddie, the old, worn out seat of his van was starting to make your tailbone ache. Being 16 hours into a 28 hour drive had you feeling more stressed out than usual, you definitely needed to sleep in a real bed tonight if you hoped to get any relief before your big weekend in Sin City.

Eddie came bounding across the cracked pavement, pizza box in hand and you perked up, his goofy smile illuminated by the final sliver of dusk and the dingy glow of the old gas station sign above.

“I got a whole pie, Rick wasn’t fuckin around when he said that new stuff would make you feel like you’re starving.” He yanked open the door, the metal creaking loudly on its rusty hinge. You took the box from him, setting it on the bench between you as he hoisted himself into the driver’s seat, starting up the van to continue your journey.

“Eddie, can we stop at a motel tonight?” You asked, opening the box to lift a piece of pizza out, folding it down the center and bringing it to his face.

“M’not sure if there’s anything on the way, but we can stop if we see something, doll.” He turned his head, keeping his eyes on the road through his peripheral as he took a bite from the slice in your hand.

‘Welcome Home (Sanitarium)’ by Metallica blared through the speakers either side of the van’s tape deck, vibrations from the heavy bass flowing through the vehicle and melding with the warm haze your high pulled over your mind, your body relaxing into the stained upholstery of the seat. You kicked your bare legs up onto the dashboard, white lacquered toenails pulling Eddie’s eyes off the road briefly. His gaze shifted down to your ankle, then your calf, then landing on your plush thigh, your soft skin peeking out from under your short pajama shorts.

“Eddie, there!” You pointed toward the sign glowing overhead through the dirty windshield, reading ‘Heart’s Desire Motel’ in faded letters atop a large metal heart. His attention was quickly pulled away from your soft skin, pulling the van off the highway and into the small parking lot. The place was quaint, baby pink paint peeling from the siding, with an old ‘vacancy’ sign blinking in the window of the front office. You pulled your sandals on and jumped out of the van, slipping Eddie’s jacket over your shoulders to shield your bare arms from the chill in the night air. Eddie followed quickly behind, catching up to you with ease as you reached the front door.

A small bell rang when you pulled open the office door, the only source of light in the small room being a desk lamp situated behind the front counter. You waited for a moment, hearing a ‘be right with you!’ called from an adjoining space.

“How can I help ya darlin?” A sweet older woman emerged from a back storage space, setting some paperwork down and taking her place behind the counter.

“Can we get a room for the night?” You asked cheerily, excited to finally lay down on something that wasn’t a blanket in the back of Eddie’s van. She smiled and nodded, flipping through the room log book, and you took the opportunity to glance at your surroundings. The walls were the same light pink as the exterior, with heart and cupid motifs scattered across them to really hone in on the theming. The kitchy aesthetic was endearing, a reminder of the bygone honeymoon resorts of the 60’s.

“All our double twin rooms are booked for the night so we only have single queen rooms available, is that alright?” She looked between you and Eddie, knowing her question may as well have been rhetorical.

“That’s actually preferred, it’s our wedding night.” Eddie lied to the woman, a shiteating grin stretched across his face when you turned back to him and shoved his shoulder.

“Well in that case I’ll put you up in our honeymoon suite! It’s not much different from our standard rooms, but there’s a heart shaped tub for you two lovebirds to enjoy.” Her face lit up with the sweetest smile and your heart melted, guilt sitting low in your chest knowing it was a lie. You didn’t have the heart to tell her or question why she’d believed it given the way the two of you were dressed, but you shrugged it off, just happy to be able to finally relax.

You took the key from her as Eddie handed her the cash to pay for the room, twirling it between your fingers, a red keychain etched with the same logo as the overhead sign on one side and the room number above a small heart on the other. Eddie shoved his wallet back into his pocket, his arm wrapping around your waist to usher you out of the main office, calling out a ‘thank you’ as you left.

“What the fuck was that?” You grabbed your bag from the back of the van, shooting him a death glare only to be met with that ridiculous smirk he so loved to taunt you with.

“What, you don’t wanna be my bride?” He faux pouted, dark waves falling in his face as you reached for his bag. You over-exaggeratedly rolled your eyes, starting to walk toward the room.

“Guess it’s the atmosphere of this place getting to me, babydoll.” He slammed the door of the van, jogging to catch up with you as you started putting the key in the door lock. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment from how that little nickname made your heart want to burst out of your chest, Eddie always knew exactly how to push your buttons in the best way and this was no exception.

The sight that greeted you beyond the door was like something out of a 70’s porno, wood paneled walls framing crimson velour window trimmings, a matching velvet comforter sprawled across the queen bed. Two poorly painted angels sat perched atop the heart shaped headboard, like prying eyes seeing every depraved act carried out on the altar below. Sure enough, at the far end of the suite was a heart shaped jacuzzi tub, tiled steps leading up and mirrors lining the walls of the corner it was tucked into.

You dropped your bag on top of the mahogany dresser across from the bed, and as you turned on your heel to shut the door behind Eddie, you couldn’t help but burst into a small fit of laughter at the cross hanging above the door frame. The idea that anything happening in this sex den was god-honoring was definitely scoff-worthy.

“What d'ya say we put that thing to use? My back is killing me and I bet those jets would feel killer.” Eddie’s fingertips dug firm indents into the flesh of your hip, a not-so-subtle indication of what his intentions were for the night.

“Whatever you want, daddy.” You winked, taking a step forward until his large hand gripped your forearm.

“What did you just call me?” He questioned, brow quirked in curiosity.

“It’s our wedding night, remember? Don’t you wanna start a family?” Your tone was playful but truthfully something about this place was stirring a feeling so raw inside of you that you weren’t kidding in the slightest.

“If you keep that up you won’t be able to walk in the morning.” Eddie released his grip, slapping your ass as you walked away to turn on the faucet for the tub.

“Won’t need to anyway, I’ll be sitting in your shitty van for 12 more hours.” You knew exactly how to push his buttons, and insulting any of his women (his guitar, his van, and you) was the quickest way to do so.

“That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.” He half-snapped at you, digging through his duffle bag in an ill-fated attempt to stop himself from watching the way you wiggled your ass while you bent over the side of the tub, watching the waterline rise.

“What are you gonna do, spank me?” You found yourself deliberately arching your back toward to accentuate the curve of your ass, hoping with every fiber of your being he’d stop what he was doing and manhandle you a little.

“Only if you don’t stop with the bratty attitude.” He glanced over at you and immediately dropped the shirt he was pretending to fold back into his bag, finally giving up on his resistance and approaching you from behind, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against your bare thighs. His fingers slipped into the waistband of your pj shorts and underwear, roughly yanking them down to expose your ass.

“Gotta get you outta these if we’re gonna take that bath.” His tone had returned to that lighthearted sarcasm that you loved to hate, and you almost let yourself sink back against him. Instead, you stood upright again, taking the hem of his tattered Iron Maiden shirt in your grip and lifting it up his torso until he pulled it the rest of the way over his head.

Just as he reached to do the same to your tank top, you turned away and reached for the tap again, putting a stop to the stream of running water. He gripped your waist, pulling you back against him before pulling your tank over your head, leaving you fully naked.

“Get in.” He whispered against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver up your spine that had goosebumps rising over your skin. Maybe it was your residual high, or the lovesick atmosphere of your surroundings, but everything felt heightened, your skin more sensitive, his presence behind you more intimidating, his voice more intoxicating.

You ascended the short step and sunk into the bath, the water level rising to not quite cover your chest as you laid back into the left arch of the heart. Eddie watched your every move, eyes glued to your hips to drink in the way your form shifted with every step. He made quick work of removing his jeans, letting the stiff denim pool at his feet as he watched you settle in, your gaze drifting to the waistband of his plaid boxers. He pulled them down at an almost agonizing slow pace, exposing inch after inch of his semi-hard shaft to your waiting eyes until his cock sprung free, the sheer weight of him causing his length to slap against his upper thighs.

You absentmindedly pressed your thighs together, trying to dull the ache between them to no avail. You never truly got used to seeing him fully naked, blushing like a naive virgin every time you had the privilege of seeing him like this. The muscles of his thigh flexed as he took the step up to level with the lip of the tub, towering over you before sinking into the water beside you. He was an Adonis, all toned muscle under a tender layer of plush tissue that made for the perfect sleeping partner, strong and comforting all the same.

“Come here, doll.” He patted his thigh, the water swaying with the movement alongside the low hum of his voice. You rose to your knees, floating to the other side of the tub and straddling his lap, your core sitting dangerously close to his cock. His hands found your hips, calloused fingertips digging into your soft skin with a squeeze before gliding up your sides, his thumbs ghosting over the sides of your breasts almost teasingly while he admired the way water droplets dripped down over your nipples.

“Always so gorgeous.” He groaned, strong hands finally encompassing your breasts, kneading tender flesh as his rough palms gave your stiff peaks the friction they desperately craved.

His touch lit a fire within you, and as much as the way that he looked at you with such admiration made your heart melt, your need was becoming more and more unbearable by the second. You shifted forward, rubbing your folds over the length of his shaft with a hunger, desperate for stimulation.

Before you knew it he had dropped his grip from your chest, threading a hand into your hair to yank your head softly back, drawing a gasp from your throat.

“Did I tell you you could move?” He questioned, cocking his head to the side and raising his eyebrow. He couldn’t help his sarcastic nature, it just came so naturally to him, and knowing that he had such an immense effect on you gave him the ego boost of the century. You shook your head as much as you could given the grip he held on your tresses, and choked out a soft ‘no’ in response before clearing your throat.

“I-I think I deserve some relief after being in the van all day.” You tried to put up a fight, not quite done riling him up, but your tone was quickly losing all conviction and Eddie could see you slipping further into desperation.

“You don’t deserve anything, you’ve been a pampered little passenger princess for 16 hours while I’ve done all of the work to get us here.” He yanked your hair back even further, craning your neck to look up at the baby pink popcorn ceiling. The sting in your scalp brought tears to your eyes, the liquid breaching your waterline leaving dark mascara trails down your cheeks in its wake.

“You’re being awfully bratty, doll, where’d my sweet girl go?” He cooed, free hand cupping your cheek as he loosened his grip ever so slightly to allow you to look at him.

“I’m sorry Eddie, I’m just so sore.” You sniffled, tears still falling from the shame the disappointment in his tone made you feel.

“Don’t cry baby, just need you to listen, okay?” He dropped his grip on your hair, both hands cupping your face, looking lovingly into your glazed eyes. You could feel his cock growing beneath you, the sight of dark makeup running down your tear stained face serving as the perfect aphrodisiac. He adored seeing you all messy like this, his perfect angel looking like a filthy whore, only for his eyes to see.

“Think we can both get some relief tonight if you’re good, can you be good for me?” You frantically nodded your head. “Yes, I promise!” Your enthusiasm made him laugh low in the back of his throat, that goofy smile returning to his face.

“Need you to use your words and tell me what you want, can you do that?” His tone held sickly sweet condescension and you could feel yourself slipping into that mind numbing headspace, wishing he could just slip into your mind for a moment and see all the dirty things you wanted him to do to you.

“Need you inside, please.” Your words came out barely above a whisper and he knew he wouldn’t get too much more out of you before you devolved into a mewling mess, too lost in your own mind to articulate your thoughts, but he couldn’t help but play with you a little longer.

“Inside where, sweetheart? Here?” He mused, bringing his free hand to your mouth, pointer and middle fingers prodding at your parted lips. You quickly took them in, sucking softly on his digits as you shook your head no, oral fixation too strong to pass up the opportunity to have any part of him in your mouth.

“If that’s not what you want then you need to tell me, don’t be greedy.” He pulled his fingers from your lips with a pop, his tone falling an octave. Your eyes widened, nodding in acknowledgment, willing to do anything to please him at this point.

“I-I need you down here, please.” You took his wrist in your shaky hand, guiding him down to dip into the warm water, lifting your hips slightly so his hand could fit in the tight space between your bodies, pressing his fingertips to the tight ring of muscles at your entrance. You stopped, releasing his wrist, not wanting to break any unknown rule and let him take the reins from there. He brought the heel of his palm up to rut firmly against your clit, drawing quiet whimpers as you did your best to stay still.

“What do you want here, doll? My fingers, or something else?” He teased, dipping two of his fingers inside only up to the first knuckle, the slight stimulation almost torturous as he scissored his fingers inside, stretching open the first inch of your cunt.

“God, something else, please.” You sighed, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“What then?” He stopped his movements, withdrawing his hand and you groaned from the lack of friction.

“Your cock, Eddie, please just let me ride you.” You swore you were trying to be good, but you were starting to feel like you’d lose your mind if you didn’t get the stimulation you were in desperate need of and you didn’t care how impatient you sounded.

“Only because you asked so nicely.” He laughed, his hands gripping your hips to guide you up just enough for his cock to stand upright in the water, the tip bumping against your weeping cunt. “Whenever you’re ready, babydoll. You want it so bad, you’re gonna do the work.”

You took his hint, bringing your hand beneath you to grip his member, finally sinking slowly down onto him until you could feel him in your stomach, the all too anticipated stretch making you cry out in relief after his teasing. He groaned, running a hand through his curls as he settled back against the edge of the tub, watching you start to slowly grind your hips, just feeling how full he made you feel.

After a few minutes you lifted your hips once more, starting a steady pace bouncing on his lap, the head of his cock rubbing against the tender patch of nerves deep inside your cunt, velvety walls engulfing him with every movement. The water surrounding you started to roll like waves, splashing against the sides of the tub, threatening to spill out onto the tile surrounding it. You took notice, slowly your movements to lessen the potential mess, and Eddie sighed.

“We’ll clean it up later baby, just let go.” He reassured you, secretly just as desperate as you were to get off. He didn’t care about a little clean up, let alone wiping some water off the floor.

You were hesitant but returned to your previous pace, angling your hips back to really allow his cock to hit the sensitive place inside you, euphoria slowly building in your core. Your gaze slowly shifted from his face and when you caught the sight of yourself in the mirrors surrounding the tub you gasped, the lewd image of your makeup stained face and your tits bouncing with every movement of your hips was something almost pornographic, really living up to the atmosphere of the room.

Eddie caught where your eyes had shifted to and groaned, throwing his head back to properly watch you get off to your own reflection.

“Look at yourself, bouncing on my cock like a desperate whore, making such a mess.” His hand came down to press against your lower stomach, his thumb rubbing quick circles over your clit until you were a moaning mess, your thighs burning with the almost brutal pace you were now maintaining.

“Want you to make me a daddy.” He moaned, his breaths becoming more labored. His statement broke you from your trance, your gaze falling back to his as you searched his eyes for any hint of sarcasm, but you found none, he wasn’t kidding.

“Can I knock you up, babydoll?” He reiterated the sentiment, increasing the pressure on your clit and feeling you pulse around him, your orgasm dangerously close.

“I need an answer before you or I can cum sweetheart.” He was panting, straining to prevent himself from finishing, and you did everything you could to pull yourself together enough to answer.

“Yes, Eddie, please!” You maimed, tears threatening your waterline from how close you were to the edge.

“Say it.” He groaned, locking eyes with you one last time.

“Please cum inside me daddy, please!” You cried out, tipping over the edge with one last slam of your hips, pleasure rolling over you in tandem with the waves of the water around you, your walls contracting over and over around him until his warmth spread throughout your cunt. You wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly against you until the aftershocks stopped wracking your body, relaxing on his lap.

“You okay angel?” His voice was strained but sweet as ever, always concerned about your wellbeing above anything else.

“Yeah.” You mumbled, smiling silently against his neck.

Once you were fully recovered, you raised off of him, both of you wincing at the loss momentarily before sinking under the now lukewarm water for one final rinse. You began to step out, Eddie right behind you to grab your waist when your foot almost slipped out from under you because of the slick tile.

“Careful babydoll, don’t want you to slip.” He held you firm as you stepped down, making sure you were safe on the ground level before following you out, handing you one of the fresh towels from the pile next to the tub. He wiped up the excess water off the ground as you dried yourself off, and you didn’t know if it was the cold air or the rational part of your brain turning back on, but something started to eat at you as you watched your boyfriend dry himself off.

“Is it okay that I called you that?” The worry in your voice almost made Eddie’s heart break into a million pieces, and he quickly wrapped the towel around his hips before taking you into his arms.

“I loved it, babydoll, I promise I would tell you if I didn’t.” He smoothed your hair away from your face, giving you a kiss on the forehead.

“How about we put on our pajamas and turn on a movie.” He smiled down at you, waiting for your approving nod before going to your bags on the dresser and pulling out your second pair of pj’s. He helped you into them before pulling on his own old band shirt and fresh boxers and crawling into the gaudy bed with you, cuddling up to watch whatever cheesy horror flick was airing on late night tv.

——

tags: @xxbimbobunnyxx @your-nightmaredoll

also tagging: @babygorewhore @taintandviolent @littlexdeaths @eddiesxangel @bimbotrashcan bc i thought you might be interested, please message me if you’d like me to remove you

please message me or send me an ask if you’d like to be tagged in future eddie fics!!

[mcyt-parodies]

'sweet but psycho' boat boys has lived in my head for so long now

That’s priceless! Thanks for unknowingly giving me a song rec for my Boat Boys playlist! I hope you love this as much as I do! (I cannot believe I have done five of these today btw)

Sweet But Psycho (A Boat Boys Take): Sung by Etho

Oh, he’s sweet but a psycho

A little bit psycho

At night, he’s screamin', "I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind"

Oh, he’s hot but a psycho

So left, but he’s right though

At night, he’s screamin', "I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind"

He’ll make you curse, but he a blessin'

He’ll burn the world within a second

You'll be comin' back, back for seconds

With your plate, you just can't help it

No, no

You'll play alo-o-ong, let him lead you o-o-on

You'll be sayin', "No, no"

Then sayin', "Yes, yes, yes," 'cause he messin' with your head

Oh, he’s sweet but a psycho

A little bit psycho

At night, he’s screamin', "I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind"

Oh, he’s hot but a psycho

So left, but he’s right though

At night, he’s screamin', "I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind"

Kill-my-cow kinda crazy

He’s poison but tasty

Yeah, people say, "Run, don't walk away"

'Cause he’s sweet but a psycho

A little bit psycho

At night, he’s screamin', "I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind"

See, someone said he’s violent red

He’ll kiss your neck with no emotion

When he’s mean, you know you love it

He tastes so sweet, don't sugarcoat it

No, no

You'll play alo-o-ong, let him lead you o-o-on

You'll be sayin', "No (No, no, no), no (No)"

Then sayin', "Yes, yes, yes," 'cause he messin' with your head

Oh, he’s sweet but a psycho

A little bit psycho

At night, he’s screamin', "I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind"

Oh, he’s hot but a psycho

So left, but he’s right though

At night, he’s screamin', "I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind"

Kill-my-cow kinda crazy

He’s poison but tasty

Yeah, people say, "Run, don't walk away"

'Cause he’s sweet but a psycho

A little bit psycho

At night, he’s screamin', "I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind"

You're just like me, you're out your mind

I know it's strange, we're both the crazy kind

You're tellin' me that I'm insane

Boy, don't pretend that you don't love the pain

Oh, he’s sweet but a psycho

A little bit psycho

At night, he’s screamin', "I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind"

Oh, he’s hot but a psycho

So left, but he’s right though

At night, he’s screamin', "I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind"

Kill-my-cow kinda crazy

He’s poison but tasty

Yeah, people say, "Run, don't walk away"

'Cause he’s sweet but a psycho

Oh, a little bit psycho

At night, he’s screamin', "I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind"

[taeyongdoyoung]

chase and attract

summary: your best friend decides to fulfil yet another one of your freaky shared fantasies... pairing: chan x reader genre: smut, best friends to ??? warnings: cnc/primal play, chasing in a forest, public indecency but there are no witnesses, fingering, finger-sucking, doggystyle, unprotected sex, praise, degradation, reader wants to use the safeword but doesn't, reader experiences subdrop, insecurities, crying, aftercare, pet names, the word daddy is mentioned but after they're done having sex, discussion of future scenario 👀 author's note: hello hello, this is the second part of my wolf & bunny series, i think i'll write one more to tie up the loose ends 🤍 part one & part three word count: 1.7k

After a number of discussions and precautions, you and Chan are finally ready to embark on your next sexscapade. He's reassured you multiple times that he knows the forest well enough that you won't get lost and as a safety measure, he brought a compass and his phone. You purposefully leave yours in his car to further heighten the feeling of danger you two had in mind.

“Are you ready?” Chan asks you gently.

“Kinda. I'm really nervous, Chris,” you confess, your hands shaking in your lap as you are still sitting in the passenger seat.

“Remember that you can stop this at any moment, right?” he reminds you sweetly.

“I know that,” you sigh. “But I want this, I really do.”

“Okay, then, there's nothing to be nervous about. You know I'll keep you safe. Always, yeah?”

You nod, trusting him completely, despite how insane this whole thing might sound to a stranger. You are fully aware that Chan has your best interest at heart.

“I'll give you a five-minute headstart this time,” he sets the timer on his phone. “Ready, set...go!”

You dash out of his car faster than ever and speed through the forest. You've got this. Last time your stupid legs gave out due to being in a box for too long but now you've trained for this moment for a week and you feel confident enough that you'll have a blast. Sure, you know that the point of this game is for Chan to eventually catch you. And boy, do you look forward to that moment. But the more you run, the more your heart will jump out, the more thrilled you feel.

You begin to lose track of time as you go deeper and deeper into the forest. Have five minutes already passed? You don't hear Chan's footsteps so either he hasn't started chasing you yet or he's going in another direction. Whatever the explanation, you keep running even though you're beginning to lose your breath. How much longer? You still don't hear him and you are in desperate need of a break. You should have brought a bottle of water. But carrying something like that would only slow you down. You're thinking too much again. You just want him to catch you already and fuck you until you can no longer think. Truly the best feeling in the world.

Finally, you hear leaves rustling. You don't hear his voice but you know he's getting near. Shit, what if it's someone else? No, that can't be it. Chan made sure that people rarely walk this path and it would only be the two of you. Still, you're terrified at the thought of someone other than Chan catching you. The mere suggestion of that is enough to send speed to your muscles and make you faster.

But all good things must come to an end (or maybe the good things are just about to begin...) and you are engulfed by a pair of strong arms. Before you can react or try to fight your attacker off, he's pressing his hand against your mouth.

“Shhh, don't scream,” Chan's voice is both a comfort and a threat, sending mixed signals to your core.

“Mmpf,” you struggle to make some kind of noise but it comes out muffled against his rough hand.

“This will all be easier if you don’t fight it,” Chan says soothingly and you shake your head in disagreement.

He momentarily removes his hand from your lip.

“Please, somebody help me!” you scream loud enough to paint the scene more vividly but not loud enough to actually attract attention in case a stranger passes by some forest. Which honestly seems impossible at this point. Chan really picked a very secluded trail.

“No one’s gonna hear you, sweetheart. And even if they did, do you think they’d help you? Silly little bun, you brought this on yourself walking in the forest all alone, wearing this dress…”

Fuck, why is he so good at this? You try not to wonder if he’s had prior experience with such a scenario or he simply just has great imagination to come up with such lines.

“Please, don’t do this,” you pretend to be afraid as your best friend pushes you on your knees and situates himself behind you. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Why not? I’ll fuck you so good you’ll want to brag about it,” Chan chuckles coldly and sticks his thick fingers inside your pussy unexpectedly.

“Nnghh,” you cry out and are beginning to lose energy of all the running and no longer feel like faking it, letting out moans and whimpers of pleasure.

“See? You’re all wet for me, so obviously you’re enjoying it,” Chan gathers the evidence of your satisfaction with his fingers and pushes them into your mouth.

You don’t need an order to know what to do as you lick them clean of your arousal.

“Fuuuck, good girl,” Chan praises you and briefly breaks character, stroking your hair gently.

Oh, shit. You think you’re falling for your best friend. But such thoughts will only bring complications, especially in the current context, so you push them down as much as you can.

Chan makes sure you’re wet enough by mercilessly stroking your pussy and finally, fuck, sweet finally, enters you from behind with his cock.

“N-no, d-don’t do this,” you scream and try to escape his strong grasp but of course, it’s no use.

“Such a useless slut, only good for fucking and nothing more.”

The degrading words sting but you’re trying not to dwell on it too much.

“So fucking wet for a stranger. Disgusting,” he says.

Fuck, this hurts. Not the cock stretching you out to the fullest but what he’s saying. Is it really true?

You want to say the safeword. But you also don’t. By the time you make up your mind, Chan has already painted your walls white and you are also coming with a shudder, loudly and devastatingly.

You feel broken. Bad broken. You want to go home and cry and sleep and eat ice cream. What went wrong? You were having such a great time. So why are you suddenly having such dark thoughts? And not dark in the sexy way…

Chan picks you up gently and checks up on you.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, I just want to go home,” you respond briefly.

He nods, quietly wondering if he did something wrong or if he’s just imagining the sad, empty look in your pretty eyes.

Chan helps you walk back to his car and makes sure you drink water and cleans you up to the best of his abilities with some tissues he prepared in advance.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again as he parks the car in front of you place. “You haven’t said a word during the whole ride. Usually you have funny stories to share and…”

“Gee, sorry for not always being the class clown, I guess,” you snap at him angrily with an eyeroll.

“Okay, don’t give me that attitude,” Chan scolds you gently but firmly. “If we want to do this healthily, you gotta communicate with me. If I did something wrong or if you felt uncomfortable at any point.”

You shake your head, still in denial.

“If you don’t wanna talk, I won’t force you. But you gotta remember that you mean the world to me, yeah? Even if these games end, I need to have my best friend in my life, am I clear?”

You blink and finally gather the courage to look at him.

“I’m sorry, Chris,” you admit and burst into tears.

He pulls you into a hug and pats your back.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“Well, the truth is I wasn’t all that into it when you said that thing about me being useless, only good for fucking and disgusting,” you confess.

“Oh, babygirl, you know I don’t mean these things. I only said them ‘cause you mentioned you’re into degradation.”

“I was, I mean, I am, but for some reason, it really hurt me this time, sorry. I should have said. I just don’t want you to think poorly of me.”

“Alright, first of all, stop saying sorry, it’s completely normal to get caught up in it and feel insecure sometimes. As a dom, I should have been more careful and checked up on you more frequently. And second of all, please, remember that you are very smart, sweet, funny and not to mention incredibly beautiful so there is no way in hell I think lowly of you. Now, did you put that down in your pretty brain of yours?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer enthusiastically and your tears have dried up, instead a bright smile appears on your face. “Thanks for saying that. I guess I really needed to hear it.”

“You don’t have to thank me. Just next time if you happen feel like that, say the safeword and talk to me. About anything, I mean it.”

“You too, Chris. I know that’s particularly hard for you to open up but whatever you tell me, I would never judge you.”

“I know, babygirl,” Chan chuckles softly and does something that further confuses the already blurred lines of your friendship. He kisses you on the lips, deeply and sweetly. Not like how you kiss your best friend but how you kiss a lover.

“Do you want…to come inside?” you offer, not knowing what exactly, considering you just ended a very overwhelming scene.

Actually, you know what you want. You want him to hold you, to watch a dumb movie and eat popcorn together. You want…more than you can have.

“I gotta get some work done,” Chan says with a wince. “I’m really behind on stuff.”

“Is it…my fault?”

“No way. I just can’t stop thinking of…our games even when I’m supposed to be working,” he admits.

Phew. You’re glad he didn’t say he can’t stop thinking of you. If he had, you wouldn’t be able to let him go to work.

“Right. Same here,” you reply dumbly.

“If you need anything and I mean, anything, just give me a call or a text. I’ll keep my phone nearby.”

“You really shouldn’t, I’ll keep annoying you,” you mumble self-consciously.

Chan grips your hand and squeezes it comfortingly.

“You could never annoy me, okay?”

“Okay, daddy,” you say it playfully, eliciting a giggle out of his beautiful mouth.

“Do you have any particular wishes for…you know, next time?”

“I do, but it’s kinda mild compared to what we’ve done already,” you shrug. “Dunno if you’d be into it.”

“Name it and it’s yours,” Chan assures you.

“How do you feel about…fucking me while I’m asleep?”

To be continued…

[gloomwitchwrites]

I absolutely love your writing!! Your writing and fics are just *chef's kiss*. Please write one where they tell us to "sit down." And Please!!!! Make us sit down!! I want to be sat.

Anon!! Oh my goodness! You're so freaking sweet!! Thank you for dropping into my ask box and leaving this little prompt. You want to be sat, anon? Do you? Because I do. If I was having a little argument with one of them, and they told me to sit down, my ass would be sat immediately. No question.

Presented in four drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, brief alcohol, arguing, butt grabbing, kissing, established relationship

Word Count: 400

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“You’re being a brat, love.”

“Then punish me,” you snap back, arms out at your sides.

“That’s exactly what you’re hoping for. Isn’t it?”

You sigh and cross your arms over your chest. John is right, but you don’t want to admit it. “You don’t order me around. That’s not how this works.

“That’s exactly how this works,” growls John. He strides forward and grabs your ass, squeezing hard.

You gasp, hands fisting the front of his shirt.

“Sit. Down,” he murmurs.

You promptly drop onto the sofa.

John’s hand goes to his belt buckle. “Show me that mouth, love.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Can you stop for a second and just bloody listen to me?”

You throw the empty plastic cup at Kyle’s head. He easily knocks it to the side. “Real fucking mature.”

“Fuck you, Kyle.”

You try to walk past, but he grabs your arm. He pushes you up against the kitchen table, holding you so possessively it steals your breath.

“Fuck me? You’d love that wouldn’t you?”

You remain silent and he drops his hands away. “Sit down.”

You drop into the chair, surprised at how quickly you folded.

“Now, love,” he says, pressing into your space. “You’re gonna listen.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“I’ll leave if this is how you’re going to talk to me,” you snap angrily.

Simon strides forward so quickly you don’t have a second to process his movement until he grabs your face and smashes his lips against yours. It is a deep, possessive thing that unfurls heat low in your belly.

He draws back, gaze harsh and consuming. “Sit down,” growls Simon, pointing to the sofa behind you.

You hesitate a second before sitting.

Simon leans forward, resting his hands on the back of the sofa, boxing you in. “I’m gonna fuck that attitude right out of you.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“You’re bloody pissed, love.”

Johnny grabs the shot glass out of your hand before it reaches your lips.

You whirl on him. “You’re not my boyfriend, Johnny. You don’t tell me what to do.”

Johnny stares you down, and then downs the shot, not grimacing. He places the glass back on the bar top.

“No. I’m not your boyfriend.” He leans in. Lowers his voice. “But I’m the man you get on your knees for and please.”

Your face grows red. “How dare—”

“Sit down,” he commands.

You immediately drop onto the bar stool.

“I’m sat,” you murmur softly.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@enarien @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

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@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @statixx-x @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

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@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@taysarchive @gingergirl06 @eternallyvenus @smileykiddie08 @vrb8im

[batsycline69]

Full

Summary: You find out Bruce keeps closer track of your menstrual cycle than you thought. You also find out why.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x reader

Words: 4.8k

Content/warnings: description of scars, baby fever, established relationship, thigh riding, strength kink if you squint, mentions of having children/getting pregnant, breeding kink, p in v sex

“Are you kidding me?”

The sounds of wings rustle above head as your voice carries through the Batcave. Your arms are crossed tightly over your chest as you glare at Bruce. On the monitor of the bat computer, over a year’s worth of your menstrual cycle is displayed, carefully cataloged by your husband.

When Bruce came back from patrol, you gave him some time to clean up, hoping to pull him away from work. You’d mentioned seeing the cutest baby while you were out for coffee this morning, to which he replied, “is this because you’re ovulating?” To which you replied, “excuse me?”

Bruce took only a few seconds to pull up his records; little black boxes around the days you’ve had foul moods all courtesy of your luteal phase, little red boxes around your period weeks. He has little ciphers on certain days, and you suspect he’s logged the days you’ve had sex.

His expression hasn’t changed a bit despite your reaction. He’s still just as serious and unreadable as ever.

“We have sex. It’s smart to track.”

“It’s invasive! You could have at least told me you were doing this.”

“Do you keep track?” he asks pointedly.

You scowl at him. “What does that have to do with this?”

“How soon would you know if you missed a period?” He sounds smug without changing his tone; it’s one of his many astounding abilities. You hate that he’s made a good point, even if it doesn’t fully justify his prying. Then again, you were fully aware of Bruce’s endeavors as Batman when you got married. Prying came with the territory.

“I don’t know. A week or two. It’s not always that exact. But it’s not like I wouldn’t notice.” You bristle at the minuscule movement of Bruce’s eyebrow as it quirks up. To think you’d come down here to fuck him. “Point being, I don’t need you to keep track of my body. I’m perfectly capable.”

He stands up from his chair, taking a step towards you. Silence. You hate how well Bruce does silence, hate the way he weaponizes it against you. But you’re not backing down. Not until he expresses some sort of awareness that he went too far.

The look in his eyes tells you not to hold your breath. He still looks just as serious as ever, yet a slight change of the glimmer in his eyes suggests he’s arriving at his point. He steps within arms’ reach. You have a feeling leaving just enough space is part of his plan. He’s upping the anticipation. But he’s going to have to try harder than that.

“If I came in you tonight, you could end up carrying my baby.” His voice rumbles in his chest, eyes unwavering.

Fuck.

You feel your face get hot, still trying to keep your composure. He wants a reaction—manipulative asshole—but you’re not going to give him the satisfaction. He’s not going to change the subject just like that.

“Thanks, Batman, but I know how ovulation works,” you snap, turning over your shoulder. You’re not making any progress, and even if Bruce’s proposal has you feeling that familiar ache inside of you again, you can’t let him win now. You only stop when he catches your arm with his sturdy hand.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks. You’ve never been out with him while he’s doing his Batman business—that’s his world, not yours—but you imagine this is how he treats his prey when he knows they don’t stand a chance. A cocky air without being showy. He doesn’t need to prove he could take you down in an instant; you already know it’s true.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Back upstairs.”

“I thought you came down here for something,” he replies, voice smooth. He tugs you so you’re at his side. He’s not gentle about it, but the movement is controlled.

“Yeah, well that was before I found out about your little project.”

His hand slides down your arm before running up your shirt, stopping at your waist. You shiver from the cold cave air that brushes your skin. “It’s practical,” Bruce says.

“Practical.” You scoff.

But then again, Alfred does always make your favorite cookies around the time the boxes are shaded in gray. There are also those days when Bruce is a little more willing to follow you when you entice him out of the cave.

Even if you weren’t expecting this turn of events, the more you mull it over, the more it begins to click. Dick’s been out west for months now, leaving Wayne Manor feeling emptier than ever. Bruce has been burying himself in work to make up for the loss, not that he’s admitted that to you. He probably hasn’t even admitted it to himself.

You narrow your eyes a little more at him. “Is this a thing for you or something?”

He smirks. You hate it when he smirks like that. Except you don’t, not really, because he looks so good when hes smug. That’s the worst part. As you stare back at him, unwavering, you curse his stupidly handsome face. A guy that gets beat up every night shouldn’t look that good. It’s just not fair.

“What if it is?” he asks, pompous attitude lingering.

His voice is low, using his ability to have all the control in a conversation all while hardly speaking above a whisper. He knows he has your attention. Knows his words are having an effect on you. Warmth pools back into your core, familiar ache between your legs. You remember why you came down here to begin with. His gaze is bright. Hungry. Fixed on you.

God, are you and Bruce going to have to talk about kids? It’s not like you’ve never noticed the way his eyes soften whenever there’s a baby around. He loves kids. But he doesn’t have a night life conducive to having a child.

But he’s keeping track of your cycle, so I guess how surprised can you be, really? Alfred’s cookies are a nice perk, but he’s three steps ahead of you. He’s thinking about the future like always. And apparently that future has babies.

“Then...that’s a conversation we could have,” you reply, quirking an eyebrow up at him.

“Some other time,” Bruce murmurs, his breath brushing against your lips. In other words, hes already thought about it and has a plan.

He wraps his arm around your waist beneath your shirt, drawing you close. His chest presses up against your crossed arms, unconcerned with your attitude towards him. He isn’t actually smirking, but his eyes give it away, which means he wants them to give it away.

Water rushes from the falls across the cave, dropping down to the pool of water at the bottom. The air is cool and smells like wet rock. Your familiarity of the space hasn’t made it any less dark or cold, but the foreboding nature had dwindled. You grew to associate it with a young boy’s laughter, listening to it mature over time. You think of how many nights you’ve sat up, huddled beneath a blanket, waiting for Bruce to come back home among the stalactites. You think of messy arguments and fights and of family.

The glow of Bruce’s monitor lights up only half his face. He looks tired, though you couldn’t be able to say so without him shutting down the conversation entirely. But the exhaustion he won’t admit to doesn’t change the fact that he’s probably picturing you with his cock buried all the way inside you.

He doesn’t say a word as his head dips to meet your lips softly. His hands, calloused by the years of his mission, hold you like an ever-present reminder of why he does what he does. His touch is reverent, large hands splayed out across your sides.

Despite the hunger in his gaze, he takes his time with you. Lips capturing yours with expert precision, as he approaches all things. It isn’t long before Bruce whisks you off to the bedroom. Expensive, luxurious cotton surrounds you, contrasting with Bruce’s rough hands as they run up the length of your bare skin. His lips trail the length of your neck, hands devouring the surfaces of your curves. It’s not often you manage to capture his attention so completely, but god, do you revel in it when you do.

Like so much about him, Bruce’s undivided attention is intense. He’s told you once you tether him to the light; he’s bound to you because without you, he’d be lost. You’re used the dramatics. As much as you could tease him for that, you never did because he believes it. He thinks, on some level, you’ve saved him just as much as Dick has. You’ve never seen yourself as something so extraordinary, but when Bruce puts aside the masks, you become something else entirely new in your own eyes.

It’s late now, and your body squirms against Bruce. He’s taking his time with you, depriving you both of what you’re after now. His lips pay service to their admiration of you, tasting every inch of your skin. Bruce is firm with his movements. He’s controlled, but gentle. You wanted him up here, and he wants to prove to you he’s here.

“Bruce…” you whine, his kisses peppering over your chest, stomach. He shifts down to the waistband of your sleep shorts, the only thing that remains on your body. Thin cotton is now all that prevents Bruce from full access to you.

He pays you no mind, focused on the task at hand, regardless of whether it’s what you want of him. You asked for this. You asked for him. “Don’t be too eager,” he mutters, voice muffled against you.

Cocky bastard. Don’t be too eager comes out easy when he’s the one drawing things out. You’re sure that’s his plan, too. He wants to see how far he can take this, how long he can make you wait before you’re fully coming undone beneath his fingertips. It’s one of his favorite games.

You think of Bruce’s words in the cave, wondering what the sounds of little laughter would sound like echoing in these vast halls. Wondering how far a baby’s cry would be heard.

Bruce senses your mind beginning to wander. You’re not sure how, but you’ve learned better than to question these sorts of things. He has his ways, has his years of training, has his ever-focused mind. His fingertips dip beneath the waistband of your shorts, brushing over the sensitive skin of your lower belly.

Your hand rakes through his thick dark hair, tangling into the curls. He showered after patrol. His hair is free of its usual product to keep it slicked back. He looks more undone than most in Gotham would be accustomed to, but this is your favorite way to see Bruce. Wild. Less burdened by the masks he wears. He’s not trying to be Bruce Wayne, nor is he trying to be Batman.

He’s in nothing but his sweatpants, the outline of his hard-on clear in the faint moonlight.

“You can’t put a baby inside me from out there,” you say, your voice needy. You already know your half-baked attempt at getting what you want isn’t going to work, but you can try.

You do get a reaction out of him, but it’s far from what you’d hoped. The weight of the bed shifts as Bruce sits up onto his elbow. His steely eyes fall to your lusty expression from beneath his heavy brows. Your eyes are glossed over with the weight of your want. “I’m the one doing the teasing here,” he says sternly, his Batman side showing a little more. But you can tell you’ve definitely struck something.

“I’m not teasing,” you whine.

A possessiveness intensity grows on Bruce’s face. You’ve spoken the magic words, and there’s something feral within him that crawls up to the surface. It’s a side of him you’re perfectly aware exists, but not one you often see first hand. This is Batman; this is the predator that stalks to get what he’s after.

You gasp as you’re pinned down before you even blink. Bruce has your wrists above your head. His hips cage you in, bulge pressing where you want him most. But he doesn’t move. You try to roll your hips, try to give yourself more of what you seek, but you’re stuck beneath Bruce’s weight, his erection pressing up against you with little you can do.

He smirks down at you, and if he hadn’t gotten you so worked up, you’d be able to think about how insufferable he really is. But right now, you’re too wound up, hips just barely grinding against him in search of friction that just isn’t enough.

Bruce’s lips brush up against your neck. Shivers run down your spine. His teeth bite down, not quite hard enough to hurt, but strong enough to show he’s not messing around. Hard enough for your breath to hitch, your hips bucking up to meet him to no avail. You’re not moving unless he wants you to.

“Bruce…” you pout.

“Be patient. I’ll take care of you.” His muttered assurances do little to ease the aching inside you, however. The soft grumble into your ear only makes it worse. The sound of his voice after a long patrol, body fighting sleep he’s been putting off for far too long. But he won’t let that stop him; you’ve called for him, and he’s here in your time of need.

He nibbles on your jaw as his hand slides up, calloused fingertips softly circling your sensitive nipple. You let out a needy whimper, mind dizzy with desire and deprivation. Your fingers curl into the sheets, back arching for more contact.

“We would make a beautiful baby,” he mutters. Your eyes are closed, brows pressed up, but you can hear lingering amusement in his voice. Your body lurches with longing, its biological drive being stroked by Bruce’s words. “I’d fill this manor with our children if it meant getting to see your face in all of them.”

Your husband isn’t one to mince words, but when he wants to pull out the stops, you fall victim to him just as much as anyone else he’s ever charmed. You hate to admit it, but he knows just the right words to turn you to putty.

Bruce’s fingers finally dip beneath the waistband of your shorts, softly trailing down to run over the seam of your pussy.

Your breath hitches. Even the softest brush causes your hips to jerk, and this time, Bruce obliges.

His fingers dip between your folds, collecting your slick to trace agonizingly slow circles around your clit. Your eyes are closed, but you know he’s studying you, cataloging every minor movement of your expression, looking for all the best spots. These are the skills that’s earned him his playboy reputation in Gotham. The people who give rave reviews about fucking Bruce Wayne aren’t lying.

But Bruce so often sees his body as only a tool. A means to fight crime or gain information. A body may be a tool for creating children, but this is more than just that. Bruce uses his skills, longing to make something good of them. Desperate for more than blood on his hands, more than violence and fear.

It’s not long until he has you at the precipice of your climax. One of many, if this encounter is to be like any of your others. When your moans get needier, louder, indicating you’re close to your tipping point, Bruce stops. His fingers pull away, tracing up your stomach, splaying out over the skin. He’s perfectly aware of how badly you need this; that’s exactly why he’s putting it off.

“I told you to be patient,” he warns. He’s not going to rush through this. He plans to take his time with you. He pushes himself up, and from this new angle, you see the bulge in his sweatpants, half-hard cock pressed up enough to see a very clear outline.

Longing pools in the pit of your stomach, eyes skimming the scarred surface of his skin. Scar tissue puckers, each one even lighter than the rest of Bruce’s sun-deprived complexion. Deep bruises scatter across his body, some faint and green, fading away to nothingness, while others are dark; blue and purple, splotchy and angry.

He pulls down the sweatpants. His cock springs out, illuminated beautifully by the moonlight pouring through his window. You watch the muscles on his perfectly sculpted ass move as he tosses the sweatpants to the floor. He looks like a warrior carved out of marble, even in the darkness of his bedroom. The thick muscles tense as he moves.

You spread your legs, eagerly awaiting for him to slot himself inside, but he doesn’t. His thick fingers wrap around his length, grasping tight, slowly stroking himself. A soft grunt comes from the back of his throat, and you sigh just from hearing it. He slips a thigh between your legs, pressing up against you, a breathy groan following after as you begin to follow Bruce’s wordless command.

Your hips grind against the muscles of his thigh, watching as he works himself harder and harder. His free hand comes up, working through the hair that’s fallen in his face. Yet again, he looks like artwork. Muscles clear against his skin from a long night of patrol. Scarred flesh across his rippling torso, across his arms and legs.

You’ve never adjusted seeing Bruce so scarred; each time, you think of how much is at stake when he goes out at night. The scars are a testament to Bruce’s loyalty, but not to you. To his city, whenever she needs him.

She is the woman he’s given his heart to, no matter the ring on your finger. You could bare his child, fill up Wayne Manor with adorable giggles, and he would still turn to her each and every night. As difficult as that is to accept, it’s one of the things that had driven you to Bruce in the first place.

His eyes don’t stray from the sight of you before him, grinding against his leg, smearing your slick over him. Ever observant, but telling nothing. You used to worry when he stared at you like that during sex; the ferocity was unnerving. Were you doing something wrong? Making an awkward face? But you’ve since learned the honor of capturing Bruce’s attention. Such a fleeting thing, so often preoccupied with his mission, so seldom letting dedication give way to pleasure.

But then there are these times when the call of your body outshines his endless duty. When he isn’t thinking of the future, but thinking of right now. Thinking of you. And, apparently, fucking a baby into you.

Bruce coats the tip of his swollen cock with precum as he works himself. He drops, catching himself against the mattress with one hand, still pumping his cock in the other. “Do you want it?” he asks, voice low. Eyes wild. You feel him brush up against your entrance.

You nod, mouth agape in a raunchy display of how badly you want him.

His tip pushes inside and you gasp. He holds himself up on an elbow as he half-thrusts into you. You squirm beneath him trying to satiate the urgent need to be full. His head ducks down into your neck; his breath is hot against your skin as he lets out a sigh. Bruce will never ask for safety, nor will he admit he needs it. But even when he dons the batsuit, there is still some part of him that’s a terrified child, alone in an alley.

You are safety he won’t ask for. Shelter he’s never known to seek. Security he is terrified to lose.

He eases himself in slowly, making sure you feel every vein as he sinks deeper into you.

Your hands land on his back, nails digging into the skin. Breath catches in your throat and your back arches against Bruce.

“Does that feel good?” he asks, already perfectly aware of the answer.

You let out a breathy affirmation, eyes fluttering shut as he hits something blindingly sweet inside of you. All day, you’d been wanting this, aching to feel him. Daydreaming of being split open on his dick. Now you have it, and it’s even better than you were thinking.

He holds himself in you for a minute, and your walls flutter around him. Lips brush over skin, quickened breaths hold space in the silence as you both grasp onto one another until eventually he starts rutting against you, nudging at the already aching spot deep within you.

Bruce’s resolve never crumbles, fucking you with the same level of intention as he does anything else in his life. He keeps his pace steady, his face concentrated. His eyes slip shut, brows pinched together.

“Feels so good,” you whimper against his shoulder.

“I know it does,” Bruce coos, hand gripping the back of your neck. “I want it to feel good when I put my baby in you.”

And god, does that do something to you. His movements feel even more blissful, your biological urges getting stroked just as much as your pussy. Whether this is a wise decision or not remains to be seen, but you’re too fucked out to think straight, and it’s not like your baby fever brain is going to tell you anything contrary.

He holds onto your hips, practically folding you to thrust in deeper. You cry out, pleasure causing something syrupy to build within you yet again.

“Take it slow, darling,” he says. “I want us to cum together. You can wait, can’t you?”

His dirty talk is the one thing that didn’t seem to change once you knew he was Batman, the one thing that hadn’t dissipated from the persona. As usually non-verbal as Bruce was, he loved to dirty talk.

“Not like this…” you reply breathlessly. Not when he’s hitting just the right spot, not when the warmth inside of you feels absolutely molten and you can feel yourself squeezing around him.

Bruce grunts, a characteristic sign of his disapproval. “Do you need a break?” He doesn’t mean to sound patronizing; it just comes naturally to him. Like it’s your fault he fucks you like a man deprived. But before you can call him out on it, he takes a hand away from your hips, lowering himself onto an elbow yet again. “Do you need to cool down?” His teeth graze your earlobe gently, his voice growing just slightly sweeter.

He dips his head down back into your neck, nipping at the skin, a hand trails up your side, cupping a breast in his palm. “I don’t want to rush.”

“Of course not,” you scoff, still working to catch your breath. Your hips jerk towards him again, trying replicate his thrusts somehow, but he doesn’t allow you what you seek. You squeeze around him, trying to persuade him to fuck into you again, but Bruce’s iron will doesn’t give.

“Breathe,” he whispers. His fingers brush up against your pulse point, shivers running down your spine from the gentle gesture. “I’ll let you cum soon. I promise.”

You’ve learned a long time ago that Bruce’s promises only go so far. He promises to show up for the dinner reservations he booked, only for Alfred to tell you he stepped out as soon as you’re ready. He promises for a day without Batman, only for him to sneak down to the cave as soon as he thinks you aren’t paying attention.

For all you know, he means to draw this out until the sun rises. It’s not like it’d be the first time.

He leans in until he’s just a breath away. He nips at your bottom lip, capturing it between his teeth. You hear his deep chuckle as he tugs on the lip, his cock twitching inside of you. Once again, you try to grind down, try to seek more of his length. He frees your lip from its arrest before diving back in. He kisses you, passionate yet soft. Back to that devout touch.

You respond greedily, legs still bent at his hips. Your fingers curl into his hair, holding him against you.

He pulls back. He raises his hand, cupping your jaw in his palm. Eyes fixed on you.

“I love you, you know.”

Bruce doesn’t say it often; he’s admitted so himself. You’ve known for a long time now to expect the unconventional with your husband. Love confessions while he’s buried to the hilt inside of you is the closest the two of you get to normal.

“If you love me, you’d let me cum,” you pout.

He chuckles softly. “I thought you liked it when I’m sweet.” Taunting you again. He’s lucky you do love him otherwise you would never put up with all his bullshit. Coming home bleeding. Leaving you to worry about him while he runs around Gotham. Putting off your orgasm when he knows how badly you need it.

He pulls back, his eyes meeting yours. You feel his heart pounding against your chest. His cock jerks against your walls.

Without warning, he sinks back into you. You gasp, nails digging back into his skin at the sudden movement. His movements are deep and sure, hitting that same spot inside of you. “Oh fuck!” you cry, head thrown back against the pillows. “Fuck, Bruce, just like that.”

“I told you I’d take care of you,” he growls into the shell of your ear. “I wouldn’t leave you so desperate.”

Bruce thrusts into you, pushing deep, hitting the spots he knows will leave you too fucked out to move once he’s finished with you. Warmth pools back in your core as your pleasure builds back up from where Bruce left you. You clutch him against you, demanding your release. And this time, he shows you mercy.

Bruce moans against you. Even for his expert precision, you feel his thrusts getting sloppier, more frantic. He’s close.

You bite down on his shoulder. Bruce’s groans louder.

“Do you want me to come inside you, darling? Do you want me to give you a baby?” His voice is rough, a sign that his composure is cracking.

“Uh-huh…” You nod, gripping onto him like a vice so he doesn’t even consider pulling away from you.

“I will,” he murmurs.

Your sighs and pants join together, both of you wrapped so tightly around the other where you truly do feel like one. Being deprived of your orgasm has you frenzied, chasing after your high. And this time, Bruce follows through.

Your climax hits you like a train. For a few seconds, your ears are ringing, and you stare up at Bruce blankly, too blissed out to see.

He slams into you, hips stuttering. His hand cups your neck, eyes pinched shut. As he tosses his head back, you think of the rareness of this moment. Expression pinched with pleasure, Bruce makes good on his promise, spilling into you. You feel his cock pulsing, softly grinding against you, making sure every drop fills your pussy.

He falls on top of you, cock still buried inside of you. His weight is comforting, if just a little suffocating. But your body thrums with the electricity of your orgasm. Fingertips tingling, sweat beading up on your skin. Your walls throb around him, his seed warm inside in hopes of taking root.

The two of you are silent as you catch your breath, coming down from your bliss. The room is dark, and yet you feel absolutely bathed in light, warm and heavy.

You let out a soft whimper when Bruce finally pulls out, feeling cold and empty in his absence. He rises to his knees and observes his work, eyes sparkling as he watches his cum leak out of you. He swipes his thumb along your clit. You squirm, still sensitive from your peak.

“You’re irresistible, do you know that?” he asks you, still kneeling above you. Cum drips from his tip, sliding down his still-hard shaft.

Had you any energy left to speak, you’d remind him how he’s usually quite able to resist you, but you don’t want to ruin the afterglow of all of that. Not when you can watch Bruce’s scarred belly rising and falling from his exertion. Not after feeling his heart beating in time with yours as he pumps you full of his cum.

You hum contentedly, too spent for words, laying in the afterglow of the sex. The sounds of Bruce moving about the room only partially register in your mind until the bed shifts with his weight again. You jolt slightly, shaken from your stupor as Bruce gently cleans up the cum leaking from you.

“I meant what I said.” Bruce doesn’t look up as he speaks. “We’d have beautiful children.”

A tired smile crawls on your face as you look back at him. “We will,” you reply.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider giving this a reblog 💛

[sailortongue]

Good Luck Charms

pairing: kenji sato x reader

summary: Kenji has misplaced his earrings and refuses to leave without a pair. so you loan him a pair of yours

an: I wrote two blurbs involving his piercings bc I couldn't decide which one I liked more. one where he wears yours (this one) and one where you wear his (here!)

-------

“Hey, baby, have you seen my earrings? I can’t find them,” Kenji called out from the bedroom.

“Have you checked your nightstand?” You asked as you walked into the bedroom to see him looking around frantically for his lost jewelry.

“Twice. I’ve looked all over but I can't remember where I put them. Only that when I put them down I told myself I'd definitely be able to find them there.”

You chuckled, knowing the feeling all too well. “Why don’t you just go without them? I doubt anyone will be looking that closely”

He looked scandalized at the mere suggestion. “I can’t go without them because I’m hotter with my earrings.”

“Kenji, you'd still be hot in a burlap sack. And who exactly do you need to look hot for, hmm?”

He smiled slyly “For you obviously. Can’t let people think my girlfriend has bad taste.” He shot a conspiratorial wink at you.

“Would you like to borrow a pair of mine?” You offered.

He thought about it for a moment before nodding. You walked over to your jewelry box and he sidled up next to you, browsing through your collection. He picked up a pair of chunky hoops—a far cry from his usual studs—and held them up to his ears. “These are definitely the ones,” he joked, mirthful laughter bubbling from his plump lips.

“Oh, for sure,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your words but your giggles from his antics still seeping through.

He set them back down and watched as you dug for a more suitable pair. “What about these?” He asked, pointing to a much more modest pair this time. They were a favorite of yours, ones you wore often. “It'll be like having you there with me,” he said, a soft smile settling on his face.

You melted at his sappy words. How could you possibly tell him no? You gave him permission to wear them, and he excitedly ran to the bathroom to put them in. When he came back out, the small jade studs were secured in his earlobes, the wide grin on his face displaying how pleased he was with his choice.

He walked up to you and leaned down for a kiss. “Thank you,” he said sweetly.

“Consider them good luck charms,” you said. “Now get going before you’re late.”

He swooped in for one more kiss before rushing out of the bedroom to make it to his interview on time.

-❀-

“So, Ken, a lot of your fans, especially the women, seem to be very fond of your jewelry, but they can’t help but notice you don’t wear a ring. Is there any special lady in your life? I'm sure they’d love to know,” the interviewer teased.

Kenji chuckled, knowing that you were without a doubt watching this interview live from the comfort of the living room. “There is,” he replied. He brought his hands up to finger at the delicate jewelry in his ears. “These belong to her actually. She has wonderful taste. I mean, she must if she’s dating me, right?”

-❀-

You heard the crowd laugh at his response, a grin of your own spreading across your face. The show went on a commercial break shortly after, and you decided to get ready for bed while waiting for Kenji’s gorgeous face to once again grace your screen. You entered the bathroom and stood in front of the sink, opening the medicine cabinet to grab your dental floss—but something else caught your eye. Lo and behold, there, on the bottom shelf, were Kenji’s missing earrings.