#man the words aren't coming out fast enough for me

[slushycoookie]

A sneak peek of this Logan one shot I've been working on

[mindless-existence1]

Toji really really likes pushing on the bulge his dick makes in your stomach.

You'd already came twice, once from him eating you out and once from him fucking you like he was dieing. Everything felt sore already but nothing could bring either of you to stop.

Although Toji normally fucks in doggy or a mating press, tonight he needed to see the pretty body on full display. And God was he grateful.

Its the first time he noticed the distinctive bulge in your stomach from the force of his cock fucking deep inside. Every thrust let another imprint on your lower stomach. It made him borderline insane.

How could he have not seen this before? Surely he's fucked you enough to notice. But this was the first time he put your front on display.

Toji's hand instinctively goes to it, outlining the prominent bulge forming with every harsh thrust from his hips. The fast pace he set didn't falter in the slightest when he went to feel at the bump on your stomach.

"This cuase of me pretty girl? Huh, I'm making you so full it bugle out?" You could respond because Toji presses down hard on your stomach. It makes his dick hit a new set of nerves that set a fire inside of you.

Your hand goes to push at the large calloused hand holding down your stomach. "No Toji" you babble out nonsense that makes a wicked grin come to the man's face.

"No what doll? Aren't I making you feel good?" He grins down at your fucked out face as a new wave of tears falls down your cheeks. "You going to take it like the good girl you are?"

The question goes straight to your head but the only words you understand are "good girl". You dumbly nod your head and you hands stop their protest. Instead just hold the muscular arm as it hold you down. Toji grins down at you, "That's my good girl, knew you could take it."

[mochinomnoms]

unhinged and raunchy

In which your mouth runs faster than your brain and you say something absolutely and horrifically horny by accident. All quote come from this person's tiktok series "might as well"

Third-years x gn!reader

[tw/cw} — highly suggestive, crack, idk just having fun with it i guess

Trey Clover: "If I was a donut I'd be a Boston Cream the way he fills me up with his..."

Poor Trey. He's already not a morning person, but he's wide fucking awake now.

You still look like the sleep hasn't quite left your brain, but it's starting to process what you said in front of Ace at the table.

"Bro, right in front of my scrambled eggs?" He made gagging sound, grabbing his plate and grumbling as he elected to eat outside. "I don't wanna hear about your sex life, gross."

Trey sighed pinching at his noses as he eyed you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you sleepily leaned into his side.

"You're still half-asleep, aren't you?"

"Hmm...I...think...mm" You nodded, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Yeah...cream...in me—"

"Okay let's get you back to bed actually."

"Oooh...gonna make me a dooooonut...creamy donut..."

It takes him a bit longer than usual to go through the rest of his morning routine. You're no where to be found until well into the afternoon, though Ace (unfortunately) has an inkling of where you'd been.

Cater Diamond: "Slow and steady sets the pace but fast and quick lets him get a taste~"

Why are you looking at him like that?? You're the one who opened your mouth!

"Seven help me, what was that?!" He was cackling though, almost sliding off the bench from how much he was in hysterics.

"I DON'T KNOW! SNRK—" You had burst into a fit of laughter, falling off the bench yourself into the sidewalk, covering your face in embarrassment.

"Ooh~ Got your CayCay on the brain, huh? You're lucky no one else's here and that you're such a cutie~"

Both of you were losing it by now, crumpled together in a pile on the ground, clutching at each other's shoulders between fits of laughter.

"Yeah, good thing your cutie's been drinking pomegranate juice and pineapple—"

"Pffpt—stooop!"

"—Cause I'm the only sweet thing you wanna taste~"

"BWAAAHAHAHA—"

Leona Kingscholar: "I call that man my coffee 'cause of the way I guzzle him down in the morning—"

A hand smacked over your mouth, but it didn't change the fact that the poor students sitting across from you looked like they'd just witnessed a murder.

"...A lil salt never hurt nobody." You finished your sentence against Leona's palm, muffled but loud enough to make the others cringe even more.

Leona's tail smacked against your thigh as he let out a grumble, gesturing to the others.

"Out. Now." The lounge was empty in less than 30 seconds, leaving just the two of you in Leona's favorite lounge chair, next to the waterfall.

"And you." Laying back down on the cushion, Leona pulled you with him, an amused smirk on his face. "If you're gonna talk big words, you better make sure it's true. I don't think you had your 'coffee' this morning, hm?"

You grinned back at him, turning to rest your knees over his hips.

"Well, I am thirsty, and if you're offering~"

Vil Schoenheit: "Callin' you face wash with the way you come all over my face—wooooah"

Both you and Vil froze mid-routine, he applying his make up primer and you drying your face with a plush towel.

"...I don't think that would be good for my skin."

"That's the issue with what you said? Nothing else?"

Vil scoffed, tapping the tips of his fingers to spread the product around his face.

You shrugged, folding your towel and placing it on the counter before you come up behind Vil, wrapping your arms around his waist. Nuzzling into his back, he felt you grin against his shoulders.

"Well, I mean, why don't we hold a little experiment real quick and see—"

"Absolutely not now, I have places to be." Vil clicked his tongue at your as you let out a whiny pout. "Now, now dearest. I said not now. I'm more than happy to make you a mess tonight, have patience."

Rook Hunt: "A pogo stick ain't got nothing on me with the way I'm bouncin' on it."

"Oui? Is that so?" Rook looked at you with amusement, though a pretty pink blush was on his cheeks.

You yelped, jumping in your seat, almost falling off the couch, as you glared at your boyfriend behind you.

"How long have you been here listening to me spew shit?"

"As long as you've been singing your desires pour moi, I am particularly fond of the one calling me a blessing between—"

"YOU'VE BEEN HERE AT LEAST AN HOUR?? Dammit Rook, you should be thankful I fucking love your weird ass."

"As am I, mon adorable filou~" Green eyes flitted down your body, the corner of his lips quirking up as he looked back up to meet your own.

"A pogo stick, hmm?"

"Oh, yeah. Go hard and fast just like—" You sighed, rubbing a hand down your face. "I should stop."

"Pourquoi? I find it rather sweet you think such thoughts of me!" Rook leaned in close, a coy smile on his lips.

I'd be more than happy to indugle in them, rien que pour vous!

Idia Shroud: "Call him a remote with the way he makes me louder with just his thumb~"

The clatter of a controller dropping on the ground and the sight of blue flames going pink made you shrink into Idia's bed as he turned in his chair to stare at you.

"Huh, I'll call you back later, 'kay bye." You rapidly hung up, crawling backwards as Idia clambered over to you and on the bed, reaching for your phone.

"WHO YOU WERE YOU TALKING TO? WHY ARE YOU TELLING THEM OUR BUSINESS!"

Curling around your phone and pushing him away with your foot on his chest (easily mind you, he was barely resisting), you batted your eyes.

"I didn't mean to. It just came out while gossiping with Cat—"

"YOU'RE TELLING CATER ABOUT OUR SEX LIFE?" Idia shrieked, collapsing on top of you, effectively trapping you to the bed with his weight. "How am I ever going to face him..."

"You don't even talk to him! You actively go out of your way to avoid him. I was just bragging about you..."

Idia mumbled into your chest, making you pause until he popped up and gave you a glare, tips now turning red.

"I'm not gonna help you beat the final boss of your dumb game anymore."

"Idia! Noooo I need you!"

Malleus Draconia: "Call me soil with the way he plows me—oooooh."

Malleus's arms where steadying you as you giggled, tipsy from the wine Lilia had brought out earlier. Evidently, humans are much more susceptible to the effects of fae wine, you didn't even recognize the man holding you.

"No, no, no, no. I don' wanna go with you, I want Mal...to plow...heh." You snorted, tripping over your feet.

"Come now beastie, wait until we're in my chambers." He was both concerned for how quickly you became drunk but also amused from the chatter coming from your mouth.

"I—hmm. Where's Mal?" The two of you managed to get to his room, though you pushed him off you and tripped over to the bed. "MalMal...He can plant his seed in me..."

You planted face down into the bed, still giggling as Malleus carefully moved you under the covers with a soft smile.

"A tempting proposition, perhaps we can discuss in the morning when you're right of mind."

Lilia Vanrouge: "Might as well call me a book the way this man opens me up before bed every night..."

"I'm begging you to stop, please."

"...Flipping my pages…"

"I really don't want to hear your nights with Fa—Lilia. Please."

Silver gave Lilia a pleading look, nodding his head to you. Lilia was covering a smile as he watched you tiredly blink up at the two of them.

The consequences of you staying up for two days to do homework and study for an exam, evidently, were having you say the most amusing things. Especially about Lilia.

"But-but-but, it's true! I gotta speak my truth man." You slurred your words, squeezing your eyes tightly and opening, as if it would help.

"He's soooo good! And-and I just love him so much Silver. Silver. Silver. SILVER!"

Silver tilted his head as far back as possible as you grabbed his shoulders with a wild look in your eye. Again, his eyes begged Lilia to intervene, though said fae was still watching with amusement.

"...I need him carnally."

"Father please."

"Okay, okay. Sweetheart, come 'ere. Let's get you to bed."

You let yourself get led away by Lilia, squinting at him in confusion until you realized who was holding you.

"Lilia! Yaaaay~ I was just talking about you!"

"Yes, and you can talk about me more in my room, alright sweet?"

comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷

[xan-izme]

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐬

Part 1: Dinner Time

Prologue

TW: Past neglect, death, violence, mention of blood, drinking

Tag list: @pix-stuff, @sweetconnoissurgarden, @craftymoonchaos, @jsprien213, @hebaoffside, @bunbunboysworld, @melonylla, @numbu5, @tatsuri-zomushiki, @formulas-bitch, @fantasyhopperhea, @otterluver05, @caged-birdies-blog, @minkyungseokie, @una1002289, @vanessa-boo, @welpthisisboring, @sirenetheblogger, @salfishers, @meeeeeeee-stuff, @eylsiankub, @lilithskywalker

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"Eight years in hell. . ."

You were seated on top of a desk playing with a snow globe in your hands.

"Can really make you go crazy." Your head hits the wall behind you, slowly turning to the bleeding man on the ground, once again receiving a blow to the face from a man dressed in dark red.

"P- please. . . I don't know anything. I swear." The man whimpers as he begged.

You sighed. "You're lying. I really, really hate liars' doctor." You through the snow globe onto the ground, shattering the glass. The man in red took your small fit of rage as a signal and pulled out a gun, pressing it against the doctor's head.

The bleeding doctor felt another type of fear the moment he felt the cool metal against his temple.

"W-wait! Wait! Please! I have a family; I'm begging you please!" The doctor cried and begged. The man in red glanced to you, you sighed and waved you're hand off. The man in red put his finger on the trigger, about to shoot.

"WAIT- Gotham hospital! She was at Gotham hospital!"

The man in red paused and glanced over to you.

You walked closer to the doctor, crouching down to the man's current level, as the man in red slowly pulled the gum away, the doctor felt a large wave of relief wash over him.

"Are you sure?"

The doctor nods "She s-saw Doctor Hill, that's all I know, I promise that's all I know."

You stay silent for a moment before standing up. "Thank you for your cooperation."

The Doctor felt relived. Wanting to go back to his wife and kids, hug them as tight as he could-

BAM!

The Doctor fell with a thud. Blood slowly seeping out of his body as you tossed the gun you used to shoot the doctor to the man in red.

"That's for lying" You mumbled as you stare at the doctor's body with indiffrence.

You've been out of Arkham for almost a month now. You should be relaxing, try to fit back into society. But no, your mother was missing, the Falcone's didn't know where her whereabouts were, some made comments of her abandoning you the moment you got out, which coursed them to have a slow death for their crude comments.

Your mother loves you, and you know she would never abandon you. So now you're searching. But you aren't getting to her fast enough. And your growing impatient. You wanted to come back out into the world and run into the arms of your mother, but your just met with Gotham's ugly mug. It angered you beyond words.

The man in red, Rex, works for the Falcones, but has come to be loyal to you. Rex followed behind you as you walked out of the room and down the halls.

"Give doctor hill a visit for me, will ya?" You spoke coldly as your heels clicked loudly walking down the empty hall of an abandoned building. Rex nods before speaking up.

"What about you Miss Falcone. Are you going back to the Falcon manor?"

Ah, yes. You took your mother's last name. All done in paper. No more, Y/n Wayne. That little girl is dead.

". . . No, I need to grab a few things."

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Alfred knows you have been out for a month, so why have you not come back to the manor?

Alfred tried to keep in touch as much as possible during your time in Arkham. Every phone call, he could hear that sweet innocent girl he knew fade. He has tried to phone you multiple times but no use. Even tracking you down with was difficult, Alfred has tried to tell Bruce about his worry for you not coming home, But Bruce seemed to almost immediately shut down at the mention of your name.

He's worried for you, he just wants to see you, and make sure you're okay.

There was a met Gala being held today. Preparing for it was exhausting, but it was like that every time a gala had to be held. Everyone scattered all over the manor.

With a heavy sigh, Alfred entered the kitchen, the gala's close to an end, the rich of Gotham turning in for the night. But Alfred comes to a stop when he noticed a woman in the kitchen, dressed in a dark red dress, her back faced to him as she picked up a glass of wine.

"Excuse me ma'am, you're not supposed to be in the back here." Alfred spoke firmly with his usual stoic expression. The woman in red slowly turns around with the wine glass in hand. Then she spoke, the face, Alfred surely does not recognize, but the voice. He knows your voice.

"I rather be away from the crowed, if you don't mind." You gave the older man a small smirk as you see the realization hit him.

"Miss Y/n?"

Your small smirk cracked even wider. Alfred walks closer, shocked to see you here, in the kitchen munching on some sweets, just like you used to when you were younger.

You shrugged with a small giggle slipping from your red lips

"The one and only"

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"Miss Y/n, come, Master Bruce must know your home!" Alfred might not show it a lot, but he is overjoyed to see you in the manor again. You've grown so much.

"Ah, well I was hoping to just grab some things from my old room and head out." You try to walk off to the back staires

"Nonsense, come, come." Alfred needed you to meet the family. For the family to see you. He touched your back as to lead you out of the kitchen and into the dining room.

You immediately flinched away.

Your negative reaction causes the butler to coil back.

"Miss. . .?"

You let out a weak cuckle.

"Sorry, I'm not fond of being touched." You began to meekly rub your hands together. Alfred comes to realize your time in Arkham has damaged you in some way's he might not be able to know yet.

"No need to apologize miss Y/n." Despite the small awkward moment Alfred still managed to have you walked out to see the others.

You felt an immense amount of DeJa'Vu. The walls, the detailed engraved in these walls. These walls haunted your dreams. Only half of your childhood was spent in this manor. You remember running down those stairs once Bruce came home from work. Skipping through these halls after getting a solo part in choir, something Bruce never really paid mind too.

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Almost everyone was here tonight. Jason, Dick, Cassandra, Tim, Damian and Duke. Steph couldn't make it. Barbra was spending time with her father. And. . .

Bruce watched as his children chat, argue, laugh. He smiles to himself as he takes a sip of his glass of white wine.

"Where's Alfred?" Damian spoke up as he turned his head in search for the butler that is always usually hovering around. Bruce shrugs

"Most likely in the kitchen."

Suddenly, the doors open, in comes Alfred with a smile on his face.

"Alfred." Bruce can tell Alfred seems to be in a more chipper mood than he was in half an hour ago.

"We have a visitor." Alfred's words confused the others. Then you stepped up. You scanned the room. Some faces new, some old. Others were still confused, either not recognizing you due to the years that have passed, or the fact they simply didn't know who you were.

But Bruce didn't take long to recognize you. And the way he paled at the sight of you, it just made you smirk at his reaction. Dick was quick to follow the realization.

"Y/n . . ." Bruce mumbled.

Jason's head whipped to Bruce once he heard the name. Looking back at you then to Bruce.

"Y/n, we thought you were still . . ." Dick tried to speak, but he seemed to get more uncomfortable with just thinking of his words.

You wait for Dick to say the words, but clearly, he was still in shock to say it.

"Arkham? I've been, rehabilitated." You say this with a soft smile.

Jason, trying to process what the actual fuck is going on right now stayed silent. Damian also confused spoke up.

"Father who is this woman?"

Your eyes snapped to the young boy, your head tilt for a moment. Walking closer to the table. Your heels click as you kept your eyes on the young boy, and Bruce kept his eyes on you. Still not believing you were out.

"I'm his daughter. Blood, daughter." You spoke as you kept a playful manner to yourself. The Damian frowns. "Imposible. I'm fathers only blood child."

You paused for a moment. You seem to be analyzing the situation.

"Is that what dear old daddy said." Your chuckle, almost darkly, as you sipped on your glass of red wine. Alfred pulled up a seat at the end of the table, across from Bruce. You took a seat.

The room that was once filled with chatter and warm air was now silent and tension filled the air. You leaned back into the chair; Alfred re-fills your glass.

"Thank you, Alfred." You kept a small playful smile on your red lips. You let out a small sigh before speaking

"So, what did I miss?"

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"𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚢?"

[saeist]

dating a soccer prodigy isn't exactly for the weak.

especially when he's always away for games and even worse, when he lives across the world from you

it was hard at first, obviously. adjusting to the time differences, the long distance and all that. given that the sae itoshi was your first long distance relationship at that

somehow, you two make it work.

it made your relationship even more special whenever he was around. when you actually get to be with him physically and not through a screen

holidays together is another thing. luckily, you aren't too keen with celebrating holidays in general, though there's an exception with celebrating valentines day

throughout your relationship with sae, you had never celebrated valentines day together

yeah sae sends you gifts through the mail, lets you borrow his card for your weekly shopping spree, lets you have a spa day and etc. sae may not be present physically but he relentlessly shows how much he cares about you through gift giving— his love language.

it was valentines day and you had already gotten all your gifts from sae

for this year, sae had gifted you a van cleef jewelry set that matches the color of his hair, 1095 roses bouqet (each rose represents the days you two have been dating) and his recent jersey with his cologne on it

sae can really be romantic if he wanted to

you are now in bed after celebrating love day alone again with sae, who was on the phone

"did you like my gift this year?" you hear him ask through the phone. you let out a hum as you rummage through the giftbox, showing off the green velvet box to the camera

"do i like it? i love it!" you smile widely, "it even matches your hair!"

sae chuckles, watching your face light up like a christmas tree. his heart swoons at the sight. how he wishes that he was with you in that very moment to see your reaction in real time

"had to call every van cleef boutique around the area. heard they sold out fast" sae shares, recalling the time he had to yell at his poor manager to find more van cleef stores that sells that specific color

"i'm sure they had one in case a certain red head soccer prodigy would call at their door" you joke, making sae scoff playfully

"you're pushing it"

"oh, am i?"

sae smiles at the camera before he sighs, muttering "it's so fucking annoying i can't be there right now"

your eyes widen hearing his words that basically translate to "i miss you" and its not all the time you hear sae admit that he misses you

"looks like someone misses me" you say in a sing song voice

sae rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue in annoyance

"would you rather have me not miss you? because i think i can do that"

"you just contradicted yourself. you just said you think you can but in reality you can't"

you let out a loud laugh watching his face contort into annoyance. whether he likes it or not, you were right. he can't nor will he be able to do that

sae itoshi loves you so fucking much that he might give you the whole world if he could

"well, i haven't told you my gift for you yet" you bring up, grabbing something from your bedside table

sae raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to elaborate further. you got him a gift?

you show off an envelope. sae cocks his head to the side, what's that for?

"i can't be the only one to have gifts this valentines so this is my gift to you. i'm coming to spain!" you cheer, showing off your plane ticket to madrid

it takes a few seconds for sae to understand everything as he processed your words carefully. sae is a man of a few words so just seeing his reaction was enough for you to feel his excitement with the way he sat up on his bed, eyes wide

"happy valentines, sae. see you soon"

[unknownsvoid]

BLLK BOYS AND THE "GIVE A BITCH SOME HEAD OR SUM' TREND" P2!!

✮⋆˙ | featuring: eita otoya, tabito karasu, sae itoshi, shidou ryusei, oliver aiku.

✮⋆˙ | cw: suggestive/crack themes! fem!reader. no proof read... the usual. tags: @pinkymangacaps you pretty person want part one? -> here ya go, babycakes!

Eita Otoya! (hate this man whore sm but also love him idk)

You and him are in his room, scrolling through your phones. Soon enough, you get bored, looking over at your man who was currently vaping. (flavoured usb stick. come for me idc sighhh)

You've noticed the trend is currently viral and spiraling around, seeing multiple videos forming on your fyp! Soooo... why not try it on your personal man-whore boyfriend? You begin recording, the sound playing and the fucker turns to look at you almost immediately. A goofy, lopsided smile on his face, "Right nowww?" "..." You give him a concerned look. How did he react so fast... like he was prepared.

"What? Don't look so worried, princess! You're the one who instigated this!"

"Instigated? What a big word. Surprised you know it." He frowns at words, "You're not getting any head now." You shrug, "Neither are you I guess!" The pure worry and sadness on his face as soon as you said that was to die for.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵ Tabito Karasu!

His head was resting his head on his thighs. He was in the middle of texting in his little group chat with "the boys"... so corny, but considering he asked to come over to your place cuz he missed you, he isn't showing the "missing" part much. He hasn't paid much attention to you ever since one of his friends sent a text to the group chat and now you were getting bored.

Why not try out this new trend out? Then tease him about it after!

Clicking on the sound and then pressing the record button. You had to record twice because the sound kept finishing before he even got the chance to notice. He was obviously too zoned out with texting to notice, but when he does. He stops mid-typing and then looks up at you, a shit-eating grin on his face. "That what you want right now? I'm down."

"Aren't you busy texting?" You sigh, giving him a faux dirty look, "Seems like you were too occupied with your friends rather than spending time with your girlfriend, who you called to miss, by the way, but as soon as head is mentioned, you pay attention to her?"

He simply shrugs, "Eh, payin' attention to you now, aren't I? Lemme make it up to you then if you're upset 'bout it?"

"No-can-do, bird man. You were busy before texting your mates, ignoring your girlfriend, who says now that head is in the game, that you get to spend time with her?"

"Sooo... you're rejecting have your pussy ate?"

"If the boot fits." He raises an eyebrow and snickers, "Don't know how this is a punishment for me. Seems more like a punishment for you, but aight." he teases, going straight back to texting.

What a prick.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

Sae Itoshi

You and him actually had a slight quarrel. For the stupidiest reason really, you guys were literally debating on whether a tomato is a fruit or a vegetable. He kept saying it was a vegetable, and you kept saying it was a fruit. You told him to search it up and turns out, you were correct. He was pissed off about it and you tell him, 'I told you so!', just pissed him off further. So now, the pink-haired man was having a mini hissy fit and ignoring you. You tried to talk to him numerous of times, but he wouldn't budge, and you were getting bored, so you decided to try this new trend out that kept smothering your fyp! You hit record, letting the sound play in the once quiet room. He got caught so off-guard that he forgot he was meant to be ignoring you. He turns to look at you, a dirty look on his face before he speaks up, "I'm mad at you and this is your way of cheering me up?" "Who said I was tryna cheer you up? This is a demand, by the way." "You can't demand for shit. Fuck off."

"Missing out, I guess."

An awkward five minutes later and he doesn't even say anything before he's sat on his knees in front of you, peeling your thighs apart. You smirk down at him, "Change your mind, Mr. Itoshi?"

"Do you ever shut up?"

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

Shidou Ryusei! (the bro who claims they aren't gay)

KASPLOOOOOOOSHHHH! Man, you were just bored and wanted play around with your horny ass boyfriend. The two of you were scrolling mindlessly on your phones. He would occasionally show you a meme or two that would cause you both to giggle for a while, but that was it. You got three videos of the same trend in a row, so you took it as a sign, playing the sound and waiting for him to notice. He did, quite quickly, actually. He gives you that notorious smirk, "Shit, baby. Thought you were never gonna do the trend, but ey, guess it's my lucky day huh." His eyes are glimmering in excitement... too much of it actually and you just side eye him. Yeah, you regret doing this trend now. Why is he so excited? His smirk grows, "Don' look at me like thatttt! You're the one who wanted this. Just playin' by your script, ya' know? Nowww... about that head?" he mocks while wiggling his eyebrows at you.

"Don't want it anymore. I rebuke you, you horny ass demon."

"Awww, c'moooonnnn..."

"Fuck no."

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

Oliver Aiku! (love hate this slut too..)

The trend was all ovvvver your fyp while you were just peacefully scrolling through at three am and it actually made you miss your slutty man bitch boyfriend and also made you very desperate to try the trend out on him, so you invited him over. Now, you guys were in your room, and you thought this was the perfect time to try the trend out! The suddenness of the sound playing from your phone causes him to look away from his phone and right at you. "Yeah? Could've just asked me instead, but eh, still understood in the end. Spread your legs then."

"If I don't?" You taunt him. He raises an eyebrow and gives you a smug smile, "Ahh, but you will. C'mon now, princess."

You must be stupid to deny head, so you oblige.

Decided not to do Kaiser. I don't know much about him. I hate him. I just know it. When I read that damn manga, I know ima hate his stupid ass.

[asaarii]

ft: mohawk!mark (invincible) reader: fem wc: 1486 summary: in which mark is down bad for a punk!reader requested by: @qxuanii

i hope you enjoy reading this bc i enjoyed writing it!! hopefully the characters aren't too out of character lol...(praying bc I will start chewing rocks if nobody reads this)

also for some reason i can't spell mohawk for the life of me (I keep spelling mowhawk)

He was a goner from the moment he laid eyes on you.

The first time Mark lays eyes on you, he’s just started junior year and is already in detention for allowing his temper to get the best of him despite being only two weeks into the school year. In all honesty, the loser had it coming with how much he kept bugging Mark. About what exactly…eh, the details don’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, y’know? Though, he supposes he could’ve held his punch a little better.

You know, developing powers and all that dumb shit his mom keeps yapping about.

Your eyes flicker from your phone onto him with a cocked, pierced brow, and Mark hates the way his heart skips a beat as your curious gaze bores into him. He holds your stare with narrowed eyes, taking in the odd style of your hair and relaxed posture, your legs kicked up haphazardly onto the back of the desk in front of yours. Despite your less-than-conventional appearance, you smile at him. It’s small and half-hearted, but it’s a smile nonetheless.

He clicks his tongue, breaking your gaze and taking the desk furthest from you in the far corner of the classroom before slouching in the uncomfortable plastic seat. The dim light of his phone illuminates his face as he sends a quick text to his mom after her thirteenth message asking where he was. It shuts off with a click, leaving him staring at his cracked reflection in his screen protector.

A moment passes and Mark ultimately decides to take a nap, his back bending awkwardly to accommodate the low angle of the desk while the edge of it presses against his sternum.

Then, he hears it, the faint notes of a Green Day song reverberating through his sensitive ears, unheard by the snoring teacher slumped at the front desk. The source? None other than you, who continues to scroll on your phone, oblivious to the ire you’ve evoked from the half-blooded Viltrumite.

Rummaging through his bag, he pulls out a syllabus he didn’t care enough to get signed, crumpling it before throwing it at the back of your head. You make a strangled sound upon contact, confusion evident in your gaze as you whip your head to him fast enough that Mark’s sure you’ve given yourself whiplash.

“What the hell, man?” You struggle to keep your voice low as your eyes narrow at him and you finally pause your music.

He gestures vaguely to your headphones, but before you can respond a loud snore interrupts whatever you’d planned to say. You turn to the teacher, observing the steady rise and fall of his shoulders before glancing back to Mark. Without another word, you gather your bag and simply walk out of the classroom.

He doesn’t know what compels him, but Mark follows you out of the classroom, bag thrown lazily over his shoulder as he trails behind you. The school is quiet with no clubs or sports teams active this early on in the year, making his loud steps all the more apparent as he falls in step beside you.

You spare him a glance from the corner of your eye, blinking at him from beneath your heavy liner and thick lashes. “There a reason you’re following me, weirdo?”

You’re one to talk, he thinks to himself cynically, but he only responds with a shrug, the simple action making his toned shoulders all the more apparent beneath his baggy shirt. You turn away with a small click of your tongue, unwanting to entertain the admittedly handsome stranger any longer.

“What did you get detention for,” he suddenly asks and you stop in your tracks, turning to him for what feels like the eightieth time in the last twenty minutes. He’s smirking curiously at you and you catch a glimpse of a frog eye piercing when he darts his tongue out to lick his dried lips.

Your lip lifts slightly as you breathe out a small laugh through your nose. “Just some vandalism. You?”

Mark whistles lowly, his wolfish smirk widening as he invades your personal bubble. “Have you heard what happened to good ol’ Jerry?”

Recognition flickers across your face before your eyes widen. “Dude, no way. You’re Grayson?”

“One and fuckin’ only, baby.”

You’re quick to grow as one of Mark’s favorite sights, with him finding a rather odd sense of comfort when his gaze finds your leather-clad shoulders, spiked cuffs often glinting in the sunlight. He would have you, he was sure of it. Because Mark was nothing if not dedicated, as you would soon come to learn.

“I heard Grayson’s been keeping tabs on you,” one of your friends snorts, jutting her chin in the direction of none other than Mark himself, who looks rather disinterested in the conversation he’s currently having with Samantha Eve Wilkins, the school’s resident golden girl.

You spare them a glance, momentarily taking your eyes off your compact mirror. As if sensing your gaze, Mark turns to you, a familiar grin pulling at his lips, raising his hand in a lazy wave. You scoff, rolling your eyes before returning your focus to fixing your eyeliner.

“Come on,” she goads, nudging your shoulder, “I bet he’d be pretty cute with a mohawk.” She takes note of the way your expression seems to glaze over; your eyes inadvertently traveling to the dark-haired boy who’s now laughing as he kicks some random kid into a locker, much to the dismay of Samantha, who watches on with a frown.

“Oh my fucking god, you’re totally into that.” Her voice lilts teasingly and you scoff again.

You turn to her with a piercing glare, your lip pulled into a snarl as you push her away from you. “Fuck off. I couldn’t care less what Mark does with his stupid ass hair.” Taking her by the arm, you proceed to drag her down the hall, mumbling something about practicing for a concert that your friend only laughs off.

In your haste to leave, you don’t see Mark turn in your direction knowingly, only for his expression to fall when someone continues to drone on in his ear about his duties as a budding hero or some other stupid shit.

“Mark, I’m being serious—”

“Oh my god, do you ever just shut the fuck up? Of course, I know you’re being serious, dipshit,” he laughs sardonically, shoving his way past the seething redhead as he bats his lashes sarcastically and pretends to cry. “Wahh! The Guardians can’t have me around for their wittwe tea pawties—well, tough shit, because I’ve got my own things to deal with.”

The second he’s outside of the school, he takes off flying, ignoring the angered yells thrown his way by Samantha with a roll of his eyes. He’s got plans, and a team meeting with the Guardians sure as hell isn’t as important as impressing you, that’s for sure.

When he lands, he’s immediately reprimanded by his mother for being so rash with his powers, but he doesn’t even acknowledge her. Instead, he merely rolls his neck before locking himself in the bathroom.

It doesn’t take long for him to find Nolan’s electric razor. Around thirty minutes and three YouTube tutorials later, he’s admiring his handiwork in the extensive mirror. He does admit, his head feels a little cold, but the more he strokes the sides, the more assurance he builds.

Yeah, he looks hot as hell.

He cleans up the mess of fallen hair because as much as he likes to bitch and moan, he’s not a complete monster. The only thing on his mind as he sweeps is the cute look he’s sure you’ll have on your face that contrasts the rest of your look.

The rest of his night goes by in a blur, his emotions high despite the horrified gasp of his mother when he sauntered into the dining room for dinner. She held her tongue, much to his relief.

Come morning he was practically grinning like an idiot by the time he caught sight of you lingering just outside of the school. He calls out your name as he approaches, taking the time to admire how well your leather pants clung to your form, the attached chains clinking as you turn to face him. Your makeup is different—of course, he notices, what do you take him for, an idiot? Your liner is still bold, swirled with a design only a practiced hand could procure, but what draws him in is the dark shade of lipstick you’ve decided on today.

“What is it, Mark—”

His gaze is almost predatory with how intensely he watches your lips part at the sight of him, ears catching the slight hitch in your breath and the rapid increase in your heart rate.

Now he’s got you right where he wants you.

Hook.

Line.

And sinker.

©asarii 2025 — do not copy, steal, repost, or translate any of my works on tumblr or any other site or run my works through ai

[aemrsy]

I neeeed an angsty jun ho x (fem) reader so bad 😩

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐤

─────────⊹⊱❀⊰⊹──────────

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟.

𝐇𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐧-𝐡𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 !! 𝐍𝐨𝐰, 𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 😭💕

𝐓𝐖: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐚𝐦e 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬, 𝐩𝐭𝐬𝐝

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You screamed but it felt like it came from the pit of your stomach rather than from your throat. There were piles of bodies laying around you, pink guards came in with the gift box shaped caskets as the intercom announced each player that was eliminated.

You tried to move but your legs didn't cooperate, it felt like they were anchored by invisible chains.

You watched as the guards moved hurriedly, Clearing the area. Everything was moving so incredibly fast until you heard the echoes of gunshots and everything slowed... You didn't think there was anyone left to kill. You caught ahold of one of the guards, "What are you doing?.. this isn't a game, we aren't playing a game right now.. you're just- you're just.. killing us. Why?!"

The guard didn't say anything, his arm shifted and you felt pressure against your chest. You didn't have to look down, you knew what it was.

You let out a teary sob, feeling pathetic as you readied yourself to plead for your life. "Please, i just want to go home." After the words left you, a sense of numbness washed over you. You couldn't feel anything. You heard one final gunshot but this time it wasn't an echo, it was deafening. Like the noise was inside you, almost like it was coming out of you, Your ears stung.

"Baby, open your eyes.." You felt a hand brush hair out of your face and you jolted up, your entire body was trembling.

When you opened your eyes, your gaze darted around the fimiliar bedroom before landing on the man that was hovering over you. "Jun-ho.." The name left your mouth in a shaky breath.

"I'm here y/n.. i'm right here." You desperately grabbed onto his arm trying to steady your shaking body.

You felt like your chest was on fire, the more you thought about it, the worse it got. It felt like it was spreading, like your entire body was burning.

"Hey.. look at me baby." You looked up at him, your breaths coming in frantic gasps.

"Shh, breathe baby. Come on.. You need to breathe." He reached up, resting the palm of his hand on your neck. He pressed two fingers to your pulse point keeping track of your pulse subtly. His thumb stroked your cheek in hopes that it would ground you a little.

You nodded keeping eye contact with him as you tried to slow your breathing. His eyes were full of concern as he watched you. He put his free hand on your back pulling you close enough so that his lips can rest on your forehead. "That's it baby, you're okay.. you're okay" He spoke against your forehead, pressing a gentle kiss once his lips were free of the words.

"Jun-ho i-" He shook his head pressing another gentle kiss on your forehead as he rubbed your back. "Shh, i know baby.. i know, just breathe"

Jun-ho had witnessed the horrors of that island aswell, it wasn't easy for either of you, but you two tried to get back on track and live a life that was somewhat normal, of course there would always be moments like these.

You wished that you could erase the entire experience away from your memory, but you were grateful that you were with somebody who knew the extent of what you were put through. Jun-ho is the biggest blessing in your life, without him you would crumble.

"C'mere." He whispered softly against your ear. You curled up into his lap resting your head against his chest, Your shaking body was slumped against his steady one. After feeling your pulse slow to a normal pace he moved the hand that was on your neck and began stroking your hair in soothing motions.

"I've got you baby, we're safe." You nodded against his chest, The words felt like an anchor.

Your grip on him was tight, you needed to make sure that this was all real so you needed to feel his presence as much as humanly possible.

"They're so vivid Jun-ho.. I just wish there was a way to prevent them." you said shuddering, your voice hoarse. Were you screaming in your sleep?

He hummed, frowning as his eyes examined every inch of your face. He positioned you so that you were sitting up a little in his lap, he reached for the bottle of water on the nightstand and opened it with ease, "Here, take a sip." He said, holding it up for you to take.

As you sipped on the much needed water, Jun-ho looked away, you could tell he was wracking his brain for ways to help you. "Do you wanna try therapy?" He finally said. You looked up at him, appreciating his willingness to try anything but you knew that wouldn't work.

"I would but- I mean what would I even tell them?.." He nodded, knowing that you did have a point. Seeking help was useless.

You sighed setting the water back down and relaxing against his chest. You knew the only thing that would heal you both was time and relying on eachother, you just had to keep telling yourself that it'll get easier.

"Are you tired at all?.." Jun-ho asked, tucking some loose strands of hair behind your ear, he knew that after really bad ones like this you weren't able to sleep much at all so you'd be up for at least a couple more hours.

You shook your head, pursing your lips together.

"Okay well, let's get up then." His lips were forming into a smirk, you knew that look all to well.. This man had a plan.

Your eyebrows furrowed, he started to shift around gently realeasing himself from your grip before getting up completely and reaching his hand out for you to take.

You took a glance at the digital clock on the nightstand, it read '5:47 am'.

"It's nearly six in the morning my love. Where are we going at this hour?.."

He smiled and as usual it was contagious, you couldn't help but smile back.

"You'll see baby, come on." He gestured for you to take his hand again and you obliged.

He lead you out of the shared apartment, and scanned the hallway his eyes narrowed when he found what he was looking for at the end of the hallway.

"Do you trust me?" he said turning back to face you.

"Of course i trust you" He smiled, pressing his lips to your cheek before leading you to the door at the end of the hallway. You looked up at the neon green sign squinting as the light hit your eyes.

"The fire exit?.. is this even allowed?" You looked over at your boyfriend who was shrugging sheepishly.

"I don't think so.. but who's stopping us?" You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief.

"It's so unlike you to break the rules.. Detective Hwang Jun-ho" He rolled his eyes, that gorgeous smile still on his face as he opened the door.

He carefully led you up the stairs and you two ended up on the rooftop of your apartment complex.

You looked up at the sky seeing the faint signs that meant the sun was about to rise, the view from up here was breathtaking. You felt his arms wrap around your waist and his head on your shoulder. The orange tint of the sun covered your face. You took a deep breath letting the crisp air fill your lungs as you watched the sun inch it's way higher.

"It's so beautiful up here.." You murmured, your gaze fixed on the sky, admiring the way that the clouds hugged the rising sun.

"You're so beautiful." His mushy words drew a soft laugh from you. He was so clichè but you couldn't help but love that side of him.

You turned to face him, leaning up to capture his lips in a kiss. His hand snaked around your waist. Your arms reached up to rest around his neck. You melted into the kiss, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the strands of hair at the nape of his neck. You smiled against his lips realizing that this was what you were fighting for in there, this exact moment, it's why you're still alive.

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[joontroverted]

kiss it better (nsfw)

husband! ran haitani x wife reader

fandom : tokyo revengers

word count : 2.9k

cw : anal beads, anal fingering, vaginal fingering, penetrative sex, daddy kink, reader is a brat, impregnantion talk, fluff! this is a sweet fic, i'll have you know 😤

twitter porn that inspired me!

video

happy reading!

ran comes home late often enough that it's not an issue.

his schedule is erratic. he doesn't work every single night, but when he's called to work he's gone, and almost unreachable too. and he's definitely coming home late on those days.

between the two of you (two sleepy people) he knows it's no hard feelings to come home to you fast asleep. he just strips off, does a quick shower, speedruns through his unskippable skin care routine and settles into bed with you. one arm snaked around your waist and into your panties, two fingers in your warm pussy, and he's out like a light.

it's a fun routine.

but you miss him.

sure, you have the sleepy mornings and the evenings filled with wine and whichever new little snack ran had flown in from God knows where, but you missed the nights.

the nights of opening your arms and legs for your man, undressing him, tumbling around in bed till you're both sore and filthy and then hopping in the tub for another round- ahem, a bath.

so tonight's the night!

you're adorned in a light blue lingerie set, the type that highlights your titties and has a crotchless panties. your usual home clothes are thrown on on top of this sexy get up because of the chill from the ac, and even though you've fought back many a yawn, the moment you hear scuffling and the beep of the lock, you throw off your loose clothes and position yourself spread across the sofa.

you watch as ran staggers into the foyer, stumbling, stifling a yawn. he makes a beeline past the hall and straight to the master bedroom without paying you even the slightest glance.

you sit there dumbfounded.

you can hear him tossing off his clothes, washing his face and finally turning the lamp by the nightstand on to do his skin care before he realises you're not in bed.

"sweetheart?"

you hear him jog out of the room, turn the corner and seeing you sitting on the sofa, all (sex) dolled up, and glaring holes into him.

"what are you- oh," he stops, eyes taking you in. "oh honey, come here," he calls you, spreading his arms.

you stare at him and get up, and walk past him to your bedroom.

"honey? honey! baby, i'm so sorry, it's so late and it's been such a long day, this has nothing to do with- "

"literally die," you mutter, clambering onto the bed.

"are you wearing those crotchless panties?"

"die! go hang out with your precious besties! die!" you hiss, wrapping the blankets around yourself and settling in.

"baby- "

"i don't want to hear one fucking word ran haitani."

you shut your eyes, turning your face into the pillow, tears of anger stinging behind your shut eyelids. god, this was so humiliating more than anything. you were so excited, and the worst part is you can't even blame him, you know how tiring his days can get.

you hear him slowly sit down on the bed and turn the lamp off. no skincare, nothing, and he settles into bed next to you, almost spooning you, but giving you some space.

you feel his hand come up to stroke your hair.

"good night angel."

something's keeping you up.

you can't put a finger on what it is exactly.

you twist around and see ran fast asleep next to you, no doubt too exhausted to even pleade his case with you. his hand is on your pillow, having fallen asleep while stroking your hair. you had fallen asleep too, but something woke up you up around twenty minutes ago, and you can't seem to figure out what.

the temperature of the room is perfect. chill, but not cold. the blankets aren't too heavy to make you hot. you aren't hungry and you just took a few sips of water some time back when you had woken up.

so what is it?

do you miss ran? do you miss the contact of him spooning you?

no... not that you wouldn't miss it, but more like you and ran moved around in bed a lot while you sleep so you aren't always touching each other.

no, this is something more related to your body.

for a second you wonder if you're secretly pregnant.

no.

you press a hand on your stomach. you feel like you're close to the problem, because now you can zero in on something inside you being wrong, but pregnant? no. not even food poisoning, you didn't eat anything disagreeable.

something inside you...

"ran. ran!"

you shake him, and if you weren't so taken aback, you would've stopped to admire how gorgeous he is. his purple and black hair fans out on his forehead, and his chest gently rises and falls. he really could be a model, his strong angular jaw and his angelic features uniting masculinity and femininity to create such beauty.

"ran!" you smack him across his face with your pillow.

"what, what, fuck!" he shouts, rising up to his elbows, his eyes flitting over you. his hands immediately roam over you before his eyes adjust to the dark to make sure that you're in one piece and not hurt in any way.

"wha' happened," he says gruffly, sitting up this time, his hands still on your waist protectively.

you falter, seeing how protective he is of you, and how much sexier he sounds with his voice deeper from sleep.

you bite your lip. "hi."

"what the fuck happened," he blinks at you slowly, like he can't believe this situation. he's just been forced awake by his panicked little wife who had just been screaming and now you're sitting pretty, hair mussed, bra strap sliding off your shoulder, eyes wide, looking ditzy.

"um, nothing much. what's up with you?" you shrug, looking down.

"i'm going to count to three- "

he doesn't even have to finish his sentence for you to start talking. you know all too well what happens when he counts to three.

"so you know how i dressed up for you and then you so very rudely ignored me?"

"i apologized for that, and you told me to die."

"yeah, that."

he stares at you. "and?" he prompts.

"i didn't actually want you to die."

that makes him crack a little smile. "why thank you. that's one less person now. unfortunately the list's a bit too long for me to be in the clear, honey."

you scrunch up your face at that. ran's a terrible person. you forget that sometimes. his worst crime is probably torture and homicide, not kicking your plushie off the bed.

"was that all?" he asks, thumb stroking your waist. "can we sleep now?"

"no," you say firmly. and then you mumble something.

"what?"

"there's something inside me."

"what did all those creampies pay off," he laughs. "wait a minute, did they?" his face morphs into horror.

"no, jesus. this is less scary."

"just spit it out already!"

"fine! when i was waiting for you, i..." you shift. "um i stuffed myself with some... beads," you trail off, nodding, glad that the lights are off, so he can't see you clearly.

ran leans to the nightstand and flicks the lamp on, making eye contact with you. well there goes decency. he looks at you, his face a mix of disbelief and criticism. "you stuffed yourself with some beads."

you nod again, unable to look at him.

he grabs your face and forced you closer. "you stuffed yourself with the anal beads i bought you and told you that i would help you with."

"i wanted to surprise you okay?"

"and then you fell asleep with them inside you. who was that for? the icu when they surgically remove them from you? what if i couldn't come home tonight?"

"fine!" you pull yourself away from him. he had spent his entire life being both a brother and a father to rindou that when he brought up his stern voice he could be so goddamn condescending. "i'll do it myself then! i don't need your help anyways!"

you most definitely did need his help.

and that's why you find yourself laid on your tummy between ran's spread legs, him having pulled your hips towards him, ass facing him, legs locked around his back. your bra was tossed to the side, and your crotchless panties dangle from your ankle in sad defeat.

ran had sat back quietly, arms folded as he watched you try to pull the beads out. he didn't say a word, but watched you seriously, as though he were a teacher watching his student helplessly mess up an equation even further. the scrutiny sure didn't help, and only made you more tense.

you sniffle.

"and whose fault is it that you're in this position, huh?"

"yours."

you get a sharp slap on your left asscheek.

"it's my fault! i'm sorry!"

you can't see him, but you're sure he's enjoying this. ran's rather laidback and chill, but all of that is made up for with how much of a stern disciplinarian he is in situations like this.

he pulls your ass closer and your pussy settles on his crotch, feeling his thick and hard cock beneath his boxers. you snicker.

"what was that for, slut?" he asks, giving you a harsh pinch on your other cheek.

you squeal and kick your feet. "nothing. just nice to know you missed me too."

"hmm," he hums, taking you in.

you really are the stupidest little girl in the world. of course he misses you. he'd be mad not to. the light of his life. he loves his job, but he's been liking it less and less as it eats up all the time he keeps especialy for you. he's missed too many meetings and too many trips just to spend an evening watching a movie with you or a weekend away with you. and here you are, pitching a fit because apparently he doesn't miss you anymore.

as much as he chides you for your carelessness, it's landed his beautiful wife face down ass up, stuffed full in her ass with purple anal beads. all that could be seen of it was the glinting sea pearl that hung out like a charm from the base, with the backdrop of your pretty little pucker behind it.

he grabs the base and gives a little tug, causing you to yelp.

"you need to relax honey," he mutters, rubbing your back.

"well you're not helping with that," you grumble.

he rolls his eyes. he reaches for the lube and sees the half empty bottle and can't help but think about how much lube you had emptied within yourself trying to get it in in the first place, a finger pushing each bead in while the other hand poured lube on your gaping hole. his cock jumps at the image of that.

"hmm, what how can we get you to relax, huh? would a spanking work? you get pretty brainless from a good spanking, don't you honey? i was meaning to give you one in the morning just because of how you behaved with me."

you kick at the thought of that, heat filling your face, pussy pulsing at the thought. yes, unfortunately ran had trained you into taking his spankings well, but that would tense you up too much, and he knew that. he's just doing this to rile you up.

ran smirks as he watches your pussy squeeze around nothing, dampening. he's trained you well.

"but on second thought, maybe you need something more humiliating. you think i'm just wasting time hanging out with my guys at work, huh? how 'bout i handcuff you over the table with your panties pullled down, huh? so all the bad, bad men i work with can remind you of how tough this job is, huh?"

"no!" you whine, pushing your ass out. "no!"

he watches your pussy get wetter and wetter. he massages your lubed up hole with two fingers and slips two fingers inside you. you really were a sick girl. his sick girl.

"o- ohhh," you moan, as his thick, long fingers sink deeper inside you.

in and out, up and down. all while teases your asshole into opening. his finger swipe further and hurther in, scissoring before they finally curl down and hit your g spot.

"ran! ran! please, please, more!"

and that's when he slows down.

the rhythm he had built up slows down into a gentle massaging on your g spot.

"ran, what the hell? you're so- "

you falter as a another feeling takes over. an insistent pushing from in the inside of your hole.

plop!

"there we go," says ran, and you can hear the smile in his voice. " there's my big girl."

the first bead popped out, shiny and glossy, warm from your insides, lube dripping down it. your hole closes up again, and he presses down on your g spot again, causing you to let out a strangled cry.

"another one sweetheart," he coos, "relax for me?"

plop!

the second one pops out as your mind is lost from both the sensations. the bliss from having your g spot massaged combined with the odd pleasure that's coming from him playing with your hole.

plop!

"oh, there's another one," you murmur, dazed.

"my big girl can count can't she," he laughs. he sure has the fucking audacity. "last two honey."

you push your ass out and get onto your knees, chest pressed on the bed. he snickers at your eagerness and drives his fingers deeper in you, stroking away.

plop!

you feel lighter, both inside and in your head. you can't believe that for all your complaining, you're spending the night with your husband yanking anal beads out of your asshole. not even in a sexy way particularly. for the sake of not having a medical emergency.

"last one angel," he kisses you ass cheek. "can you do that for me?"

"uh huh."

"what do you say?"

"yes daddy," you keen as his fingers push deeper in you again. you feel his lips a feather light kiss on your perineum, and you can blush from how soft it feels.

he watches as the last bead slowly pushes it's way out of your hole with a final little plop!

watching your pretty hole gao almost sets something primal off in ran, and with a low growl he gets on his knee, one leg braced against the bed. he lowers his boxers and brings his heavy cock out that he had neglected for a little too long. the grinding of your pussy on his crotch wasn't nearly enough for what his eyes were feasting on.

the thick head of his tip slaps against your sloppy pussy and you whine, finally getting a taste of what you've been missing.

"give it to me ran, i've been waiting for too long."

"i know pretty, i've been gone for too long these days, haven't i?"

he pushes in, and that familiar feeling of being filled is back. you husband is back.

"daddy," you cry in ecstacy as his tip finally reaches the deepest it can go. "i love you."

"daddy's home honey," he pants, having mounted you finally, and now driving into to you. "i love you."

the pace picks up and you're boneless as ran's firm grip on your waist is all that's holding you up. he slams into you, his cock hitting all the right places as he leans down and covers all of you, holding you tight.

"i'm sorry angel, i'm sorry i haven't been home lately. but it's all for you, yeah. it's all so i can give you a beautiful life and make you a mama one day, nice and plump and spoiled."

"ohhh!" that sends a wave through you. "you wanna make me a mama?"

"yeah honey, you'll be a good mama, won't you? perfect girl?"

"yes, yes daddy," you cry, "i'm cumming, gonna come!"

"come for me angel," he pushes into you one final time, and you come together. the orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, causing you to sink under bliss as you feel him filling you up to the brim with his thick, warm cum.

he bites the crook of your neck and coos as he watches you shake underneath him.

"my wife," he whispers, pressing kisses down your neck. "my beautiful silly wife. i always miss you. i love you."

he turns you over, and you immediately twist your limbs into each others'. you smile as you look into his eyes, his hair still untouched despite it all. you reach out and mess it up, causing him to laugh and kiss your wrist.

"i love you," you mutter. "and i know you love spending time with me. i was just frustrated... and in need of a rough night with you. i don't actually want you to die."

"i know." he nods, giving you little kisses. "i'm the luckiest man alive to have a wife who loves me so much she stuffed herself full of the anal beads i told her not to use without me."

"my hole is sore," you groan as he nuzzles against your chest.

"bend over, i'll kiss it better."

reblogs, tagging, comments, likes and asks are HIGHLY APPRECIATED!!!

read my other tokyo revengers fic -

bully baji x popular reader fic

all right heathens. this one's done. pls hop on anon/asks and tell me i'm not alone in my insanity and you're this horny for this man too ❤️

[jordiemeow]

CHALLENGERS ANNIVERSARY BOT RELEASE ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

04/05/25

happy terribly late challengersversary!! and thank u for 1k followers that's insane i adore u all. crazy to me how fun of a place this has become and i can’t believe it’s been an entire year since the movie came out omg. shoutout to tashi duncan for bringing us all together to fujo out like this. yeah x10!!

also dropped the android bots temporarily bc i know a few people got reqs for them for this release! they'll be out in the future but i wanna make a tashi one too so i can post them all at once :) as usual all bots are gender neutral unless specified otherwise.

enjoy! <3

ART TASHI PATRICK

ATP art x tashi x patrick x user

One coach is strenuous enough. Two gives you a headache. But three people barking orders at you for hours every day… it's enough to drive any sane person crazy. Especially when your coaches are known to get a little more... handsy, than what should really be appropriate.

ART AND PATRICK

THREE'S A CROWD art x patrick x user

Three's a crowd. or, at least, it should be. The three of you are thick as thieves—both your boyfriends, and each other's best friends. But you see the way they look at each other, the way they get a little too lost in each other when you're all tangled up in bed together. They aren't as discreet as they think they are. Your poor little repressed white boys.

UNOFFICIAL THIRD art x patrick x user

Moving into a rural town with no stable job probably wasn't the smartest decision you've ever made. But two of the local farmers are friendly enough to offer you a job helping around their farm. Two boyfriends, Art and Patrick, who seem just a little too keen to keep you around for a monogamous couple.

TRUTH OR DARE art x patrick x user

It's always Patrick, isn't it? None of you are surprised when he proposes a game of truth or dare the summer before college starts, sitting out in the sand in front of his parent's beach house. Aow bad could it possibly go? (Spoiler: very.)

ART DONALDSON

KIDS HAVING KIDS art donaldson x user (m4f)

Meeting Art in your freshman year of college was great. He had the potential to be a perfect boyfriend—you just never expected it all to happen so quickly. Fast forward to two years later and the pair of you are juggling an unplanned baby, your future careers, and enough homework to drown in. at least you have each other.

ALTAR BOY art donaldson x user

Art's a good Christian boy. Says his prayers before bed every night, serves as his father's altar boy when he's preaching, and wears his purity ring as if it's a physical part of him. Which is why he feels real guilty about all the thoughts his brain is conjuring up about the new kid in town. And against his better judgement, he finds himself seeking you out more and more.

IMPOTENT art donaldson x user

It's embarrassing. Thirty-two years old and he struggles to get it up. Patrick says it's normal for a man of his lifestyle, but he knows he's just saying that to make him feel better. And with you, his young new partner, he doesn't know what to do with himself. He can't just keep making excuses when you try to take it further; one man only needs to run to the bathroom so much. Maybe it's time to finally come clean.

MERYTON BALL art donaldson x user (m4f)

When your mother mentions a new young man moving into netherfield park, you don't think too much of it. An eligible bachelor that all the girls will be swarming to at the first event he shows his face at, no doubt. But the man in question, Art Donaldson, seems to take a shine to you, and you can't possible turn down such a sweet, bashful smile.

SLIP OF THE TONGUE art donaldson x user (m4f)

Well, this is very awkward. In the heat of the moment, with you perched atop him and your bodies slick with sweat, Art accidentally let the word mommy slip. He's never been so mortified in his life; it's never a term you've discussed using, and the surprise on your face was clear. Embarrassed, he takes to avoiding you after that—but you're his girlfriend. He can't ignore you forever.

JUST A TRIM art donaldson x user

Just a trim. That's what you said when you plucked the pair of hair scissors out of your bag and made your husband sit down at your kitchen table with a towel draped over his shoulders. But, as you run your fingers through his curls, you can't help but think how handsome he'd look with his hair cut a little shorter. How much more mature he'd look without those boyish ringlets.

TRINKETS art donaldson x user

Art normally keeps to himself—he's accidentally lured more than a few pure souls to their demise with his siren song over the course of his life. Now, he watches from afar, transfixed by the humans along the shore that come to swim or play in the rock pools. When you move into one of the houses by the shore, he thinks you're absolutely wonderful. He's too shy to talk to you, of course, but that doesn't stop him from leaving little gifts for you: trinkets he's discovered from sunken ships or on the ocean bed. And then one night the moonlight emboldens him enough to find you on the shore.

PATRICK ZWEIG

BOY DAD patrick zweig x user (m4f)

Your baby daddy is a real pain. The kind that doesn't even bat an eye when your son comes home saying swear words after the spending the weekend with him, and texts you to confirm details he should know about his five-year-old. At the end of the day, though, your kid loves him. Maybe you still love him, too.

DESK CLUMP patrick zweig x user

Once upon a time, Patrick Zweig was destined for greatness. Now, in his mid-twenties, he's found himself working a shitty desk job for a sales company he couldn't care less about. Amidst all the dullness and depression of the modern office, at least he has you to make him feel better about himself. That one weird co-worker who he shares a desk clump with and looks considerably more miserable than him. Plus, you're kinda cute.

GIRL DAD patrick zweig x user (m4f)

When you told your friends you were pregnant, they weren't sure whether to congratulate you or pat you on the back and tell you everything would work out. "Are you sure?" Your mother had asked, when you delivered the news. But despite everyone's doubts about the father, Patrick has proven himself; he's settled down, and after years of being alone, he has a family to come home to. Doesn't mean he isn't still the same idiot you fell in love with.

NUISANCE patrick zweig x user

One of your roommates is a total nuisance. Art is clean enough, but Patrick is a slob. Probably because he grew up with a maid to clean after his ass and Art to keep their room tidy enough for inspections at the Academy... he also has no sense of space and just never leaves you the fuck alone.

WEIRDO patrick zweig x user

Patrick isn't really sure what it is about you. Maybe it's the fact that you don't care about putting up an image to impress him. Maybe it's the way you look adorable with your glasses on and your nose in a book. Either way, he's just completely smitten with you. You're a weirdo... but you're his weirdo.

SINGLE MOTHER patrick zweig x user (m4f)

The moment you brought up having a toddler, Patrick should have booked it. He was sorely tempted, mind you—it's a lot of commitment getting involved with a woman that already has a kid. He's never been the settling down type in the first place. But he really likes you, and after being introduced to your son, he realises he likes him too. Ugh. What a predicament.

TASHI DUNCAN

WHO WOULDN'T BE? tashi duncan x user

Is it a little snaky of you? Yeah, probably. But Patrick just isn't good enough for her! you tell yourself you're doing her a favour. As her best friend, it's your job to steer her away from her asshole of a boyfriend, even if that involves telling a few white lies.

SOLAR POWER tashi duncan x user

Tashi doesn't really get much time to just relax. If she isn't playing tennis, she's at press conferences or sponsorship meetings. She's the most hard-working person you know, especially at her age. So you're a little surprised when she suggests a trip to the beach... but there's no way you're turning down seeing her all chilled out in a bikini.

TUTORIAL tashi duncan x user

When you start seeing Art, your lack of experience doesn't even cross your mind. He seems like an innocent enough guy to you, after all. But when your best friend keeps telling you stories patrick has passed out about all the people art has been with at the academy, maybe you get a little insecure. And maybe you've been whining about it to Tashi for the last few weeks. So, eventually, she caves—she can teach you a few things. It's not as if her boyfriend will mind. He'll just be mad he isn't there to watch.

SUNSHINE tashi duncan x user

After her injury, Tashi was miserable. The first few weeks of working with her, she was cold and snappy, the opposite of your warm smiles and encouraging words. Barely said a word to you unless it was to tell you she was fine or to fuck off. But she's taking it out on the wrong person. You're only trying to help, after all—it's your job. So eventually she warms up to you, and the hostile greetings eventually turn into smiles and coffee placed on your desk before you begin her sessions. She's still a little moody sometimes, though.

COVER GIRL tashi duncan x user

The name 'Tashi Duncan' is quickly becoming known by everyone in the modelling world. Dhe's been on the cover of Vogue, inspired a whole new Chanel collection. With her face on half the billboards in the country, she doesn't have the time to be answering calls and sending emails, so she takes on an assistant: you. The job pays well, and it's a good way into the industry, but... she's a lot more of a brat than you were expecting when you took the job.

taglist: @tacobacoyeet @blastzachilles @gracelynnx @femme-lusts @voidsuites @cha11engers @magicalmiserybore @m4lodr4ma @newrochellechallenger2019 @coolgrl111 @peachyparkerr @stanart4clearskin @misswrldd @kaalxpsia @downtwngrl @pittsick @strfallz @artspats @dazedandconfusedlvr @turnerrst @elsieblogs

[dollfacefantasy]

SWEET ESCAPE ♡

pairing: carlos oliveira x puppy-hybrid!fem!reader x chris redfield

summary: carlos takes off for a few weeks to plan an escape from umbrella for you and him. during that time, he enlists chris redfield to watch over you. when he returns, the two men you've come to care about want to have some fun with you.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, masturbation, threesome, hybrid!reader, daddy kink/ddlg

a/n: first kinktober fic yay. i know the pictures don't match timeline wise but re5 chris is my fav so let's pretend. i'm gonna try to get my kinktober fics out early each day (someone suggested 3 am which i think is totally cute) but we'll see how that goes. thank you guys for reading, reblogging, and commenting. smoochies <3

kinktober slot: day 1 - hybrids

"I've only been gone a couple weeks, pup. Did ya already forget who your daddy is?" Carlos's voice sounds through Chris's living room.

As soon as you hear the familiar timbre, your head snaps in his direction, ears perked up and tail already wagging fast enough to create a tornado. You hop off your spot on Chris's lap and bolt over to the man you'd been missing for the past few weeks.

You launch yourself into his arms, burying your face in the crook of his neck to get a deep breath of his scent. His laughter vibrates in his chest against yours, and he spins you around like some princess at the end of a cartoon.

"I didn't forget. I could never forget," you mumble and nuzzle the beating warmth of his pulse point.

"I know, puppy," he chuckles, rubbing your back before he sets you on your feet. "You look like you were pretty comfortable with Chris though."

The words aren't said with malice or jealousy, just some more teasing. Carlos expected this when he left you in Chris's care. As soon as Jill handed him the scrap of paper with Redfield's number, he assumed you'd form a bond with the other man.

He wasn't stupid, and he knew you. His sweet puppy girl. You were his partner in the field, given to him by Umbrella. But now he was done with Umbrella's shit, so by extension, you were too. The past couple weeks he'd been gone was spent making arrangements for you two to flee to somewhere they'd never be able to drag either of you into their meaningless war ever again.

Gently scratching behind your ear, he sways a bit with you in his arms. He'd missed the feeling of your smaller frame against the muscles of his chest.

He loves you, he loves you, he loves you. Ever since you'd skittered to him from the lineup of other mercenary hybrids, he felt you latch on to some deep part of him. It was why he was gonna get you out of this life where you and him were treated like weapons.

When deciding who to leave you with, his first choice had been Jill. He trusted her, and she understood what you were and what you would need. It's not that you couldn't take care of yourself; you were physically and mentally capable of that. You just suffered from a touch of separation anxiety as a result of the canine attributes inserted into your DNA. You needed someone to devote yourself to, someone to keep you from being too lonely. She wasn't up for that task though. She had enough emotional baggage on her own. She couldn't support yours.

That's why she recommended Chris. Responsible, caring, attentive. He had all the right qualities to handle someone like you. Carlos met with him, and he had to agree. He introduced you to the other man, and you had no problem getting along. If Jill trusted him and you didn't sense anything off, he felt fine about leaving you with the guy.

But still, he knows how you are. He knows you can be needy. You love physical affection. You love having a lap to sit on and a firm hand to give you head pats and ear scratches. Just add a deep voice to coo at you about how you're such a good girl, just the sweetest little thing and you're set.

You look up at Carlos with a shy smile in response to his teasing. "That's just cause Chris is nice to me," you say.

He huffs another laugh and heads over to the couch with you, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap.

"I'm sure he is," he says, bouncing you a couple times before directing his gaze to the man sitting in the nearby chair. "Has she been good for you?"

"Of course. No complaints from me," he says. The flat line of his lips tilts upwards slightly.

"That's my girl," Carlos praises with a peck to your cheek, "Chris took good care of you, huh?"

You nod proudly, drawing chuckles from both of the men in the room.

"Did he do it as good as daddy?"

That gets a less certain response from you, but it garners the same amount of amusement from them.

"Good girl. Don't wanna hurt anyone's feelings, huh?" he teases.

Chris watches on and interjects. "I think I did a pretty good job though. Didn't I, puppy?"

He speaks with a knowing cadence, subtle seductiveness. You know what he's implying but so does Carlos. Before he'd left you with Chris, he'd been honest about the full nature of your relationship. Told him you were used to getting his dick at least once a day. It was basically a part of your bedtime routine, cumming knocked your lights out better than any melatonin could.

He wasn't sure if you'd want that from Chris. Certainly not right away. But after a week or so, he could picture you getting a little needy, desperate for something to fill the void Carlos's absence had created. And Chris was the perfect candidate. Big and bulky, warm and gentle. He wasn't mad about it. He made peace with the possibility of this happening. Even if you did let Chris soothe you for a few nights, you'd still be coming with him when the fog cleared.

"You did good," you agree with Chris. One of your legs lazily swings as it dangles from Carlos's lap, brushing the leather edge of his boot each time.

"Just good? I remember you saying it was more than good," Chris taunts affectionately.

The words trigger another wave of timidity over you. You sink back into the safety of Carlos's embrace and shrug. "It was pretty good."

"What'd Chris do that was pretty good?" Carlos chimes in. 

"Nothing," you say, too fast for it to be the truth.

"Oh c'mon. You can tell me," he says before teasing a little more, "You're not gonna get in trouble."

You pause, mulling over your decision. But then you decide to give in a little.

"He gave me a special treat."

Carlos grins at the answer. Now that you had admitted it in your terms, he knew he could keep poking and prodding. Even though he was ok with what had happened between you and Chris, he still felt an air of possession pluming up within him. The desire to make sure you knew who you belonged to.

"A special treat?" he echoes, one of his hands sliding over your thighs and between your legs. He doesn't actually do anything there, but you still jolt at the feeling.

You hear Chris chuckle from where he's sitting, bringing heat to your cheeks.

"Why don't you just tell him, sweetheart? You had no problem begging for it when we were alone," the older man taunts.

"Doesn't surprise me. She knows how to get what she wants," Carlos says. His fingers move back and forth on your inner thigh.

You squirm on his lap, looking up at him with your pair of natural puppy eyes. The truth floats between all three of you, left unsaid but known by everyone.

"What're you acting so shy for?" Carlos coos as his large hands slide up your waist, "You have nothing to hide."

Chris rises from his chair and sits on the couch with you and Carlos, only maintaining the illusion of separation by sitting at the other end.

Leaning into Carlos more, you let the question remain unanswered. Interest swirls in your pupils at the potential of Chris moving closer.

"Acting like I'm a stranger now?" he jokes.

You shake your head. Your eyes dart between the two of them as if they were two wolves closing in, ready to tear you apart.

"Don't be so nervous, baby. You know daddy's gonna take care of you," Carlos whispers.

And he stays true to his word. After a little more teasing, your clothes have come off while his are pushed around, leaving the necessary parts accessible. Chris stays in his spot mostly watching, only interjecting when needed.

When they get down to it, you end up face-down, ass in the air on Chris's couch. Carlos ruts into your cunt from behind, panting with each sloppy thrust. Your head bobbles against the other man's thigh. Soft whimpers pour out against the rough denim of his jeans. His hand strokes over the curve of your head in a soothing rhythm.

"Fuck, I've been missing this," Carlos grunts from behind you.

His hand splays across the small of your back and pushes down, keeping you at the perfect angle to take each thrust to the hilt. You whine as his cock rams deep into your insides. The occasional yelp bursts from your lips when his tip brushes your cervix, but Chris hushes you from above with sweet reassurances.

"You're taking it so well, puppy. Taking your daddy so well," he coos. His hand not occupied with petting you pumps over his cock lazily.

Your fingers dig into the meat of his leg. You nod weakly to affirm his statement. Carlos chuckles at your fucked out state and smacks your ass, knocking you forward.

"He's right. I can tell you've been missin' this. She's squeezing me like she wants me to never leave again," he rasps. His shaggy hair sways with the rocking of his hips.

"Never- ah- never want you to leave again," you repeat, your lips smooshing against Chris.

"Daddy's not leaving, baby. Never again," he growls while plowing into you.

A chorus of moans and whines come from you. The drag of his cock on your velvet inner walls has your eyes rolling back and your legs kicking lightly against the cushions.

Chris watches from above, the pace at which he jerks himself off steadily increasing. He can see a small patch of drool on his pants where your head lies. Reaching for you, he cups your jaw and lifts your head to make you look at him.

He sticks his hand out in front of your mouth and simply says "Lick."

You're not in any place to question the order right now, so you do as he tells you. You stick your tongue out and lick a broad stripe from the base of his palm to the tip of his middle finger.

He watches on with satisfaction as you wet his hand. When you're done, he lets go and allows your head to thud against his leg again. He brings the now saliva-slick palm back to his length and gives it a few tugs, the sensation much smoother with your added lubrication.

Carlos grins at the sight. He grabs you by the back of your neck and tugs you upward, forcing your spine to arch and his cock to slide even deeper.

A loud cry echoes from you at the new angle, but he holds you there and keeps bouncing his hips against the plush flesh of your ass.

"Look at you, so polite for Chris," he teases.

You can't really respond. The way your head bobbles around is enough to keep any coherent words from forming inside your mind. 

"Chris," he says, calling the attention of the older man, "Isn't she a good girl?"

He takes the bait and nods. "Of course she is. Such a good girl," he agrees.

Your tail wags, brushing against Carlos's stomach in the process. He laughs and uses his freehand to pat your ass again.

"You hear that, babydoll? Everyone knows how well-behaved you are. The perfect little puppy."

Now you do manage to respond. A loud whine bursts from your lips and you nod wildly.

"Uh-huh," you choke out, "'m daddy's perfect puppy."

"That's right," he huffs out with a laugh, "Think you deserve a treat."

Your tail starts whacking back and forth harder between him and you.

"You think you can cum? Think you can cum for daddy?" he asks.

Another quick nod shakes your head up and down.

"Mhm! I can, I can, I can," you babble.

"That's my girl," he praises, "Do it for me then. I want you to cum all over my cock."

To help you out a little, he snakes his free hand around your waist and pushes his fingers between your thighs. His digits swirl around your swollen little bud, sending shocks of pure ecstasy through you. You feel the building fizzle in your belly that makes your toes curl. Your fingers curl and uncurl, trying to find anything to hold onto.

Chris offers you the hand he's not using to pleasure himself. You snatch it and lock on, holding it for dear life while Carlos fucks into you hard. His own cock is flushed and aching, ready for release as well. He strokes it a bit faster, beating his fist up and down, up and down.

Carlos can feel you tighten up. Your body trembles with its proximity to release. He circles his fingers with more speed and applies a bit more pressure.

"That's it, baby," he coaxes from behind you, "That's it. Come on. Cum for daddy. Be a good girl for me. Show Chris how pretty you look when you let go."

The words send you crashing over the edge. You throw your head back and buck violently in his grasp. His strong arms keep you in place. They hold you nice and secure so he can fuck you through it.

Chris finishes next, unable to take the sight of you unraveling. He groans and melts against the plush cushion behind him. Pearly white ropes of cum jump from the tip and spurt onto the skin of his stomach. He pumps every last drop out of himself, still holding your wavering hand as Carlos starts to shoot his own load into you.

He moans loud too and strengthens his grip around you. The last few thrusts are particularly brutal. They nearly topple you over flat onto your face.

Carlos doesn't unhand you until he's done and feels his cum has been fucked nice and deep into you, hard enough to make up for the period of separation that preceded this.

When he pulls out of you, he scoops your body up and twists you around to cradle you in his lap.

"My baby," he whispers between a few kisses, "Always so good for me."

You nuzzle into the affection, and he strokes your jaw, directing you to look up at him. His fingers then turn your head, guiding you to look at the other man in the room.

"Chris did such a good job taking care of you. I think you should tell him thank you," he says.

You look at Chris with shyness in your eyes, as if he hadn't just watched you get your brains fucked out. "Thank you, Chris," you say.

He smirks at you, still a bit hazy from his own release. "No problem, pretty girl."

You can feel Carlos grinning against the side of your head. "How about you show Chris how thankful you are. Give him something to remember before we hit the road," he teases.

Now, Chris smiles and pats his lap. "He's right. I'm gonna miss you once you're gone, puppy. Maybe you can help me feel a little better about it."

A smile of your own spreads across your face. Leaning forward, you crawl in Chris's direction. At this rate, you'd be tiring yourself out, ready to sleep through the long car ride tonight and wake up at the location of your sweet escape.

[stareiiez]

You're Mine, Now and Forever

chapter one

notes: shorter chap this time, the gym and 3D art critiques tired my little brain out.

warnings: MINORS DNI

The wind drowns out your screams for help. Considering how fast this Invincible is flying with you tucked tight to his chest, you wouldn't doubt that anyone down below you could hear you now. Anyone still possibly alive wouldn't give half a rat's ass to save the damsel in distress, screaming at the top of her lungs because she's being kidnapped against her will. Your limbs are tired from the slaps and punches you gave to the male when he first wrenched you from the car and pinned you to his stone rock body. You're weak compared to his alien bloodline; it's like he's being pelted by very soft feathers. It's only making you cuter in his eyes, even if that cuteness will turn tiresome if you keep this stupid shit up.

His eyes roll behind his goggles, sighing out while you inhale another lungful of air and scream for the umpteenth time. He hopes to god, this war shit was good enough for Angstrom to send him home now. Or else he's going to pop that stupid-looking excuse for a head off his skinny body and play kickball with it when the other variants come back. Childish delusions aside, he's quite happy with himself for finding you on sheer luck. You still use the same kind of shampoo that you used to, god, he's never letting you go again.

Thankfully, you've grown lightheaded enough to remain quiet for the rest of the short trip back to Angstrom's rendevous location. The bastard is sitting on a sad excuse for a throne of twisted metal and glowing scraps when the two of you land with a harsh thud in front of him. "Send me home, now." His voice states bluntly, his hands bruising your bicep and hip. he talks like you aren't even present. The other man doesn't attempt to question your safety, you doubt bad guys have that bone in their body to harbor empathy for the weak.

'You're not done yet, the variants are still fighting those heroes. You can't quit now." Angstrom quirks a misshapen brow, his skull pulsates in a sick fashion; like his brain is melting into his skin to become one sick brown-colored flesh sac. Your nose wrinkles.

"You promised me another world, but I found a new one." The Invincible squeezes you, to prove his point. It sounds fucking cheesy, but he knows what he meant. Even if the words make the back of his mouth taste sour.

"And so you have, I didn't think your kind was capable of positive fluctuating emotions."

Your neck quirks when you're grabbed so viciously tight again, and your breath squeaks against the shell of his ear. You swear you feel your vertebrae pop, but maybe that's just due to your joints being stressed and you're not seconds away from being squeezed to death because this Invincible hasn't gotten his way yet as if it would have been easy in the first place.

"Send me home, or I'll do what your Mark couldn't and wipe you off the face of the E-" His voice gets cut off by the sound and the strong apparent suction of the green portal that opens up behind him. Both of your combined yells are abrupt and cut off just as quickly as they were let out when you were pulled into the neon green void. Angstrom was wiped out of your view in a matter of seconds.

That was the only way to shut up yapping feral dogs that bit and nipped at his ankles, by giving them what they want so they never bother him again. Your eyes blink

rapidly, at the change of scenery. You can't tell what's different from your home, it looks like you never left; however, everything looks slightly off. The color of the grass is a little too green, and the cars driving by honk a little too loud. You're beyond overstimulated and overwhelmed, that suffocating in this Invincible's arms would be a paradise for you. The male hums, satisfied with this outcome. He's thrilled to be back home that smile you start to hate, when he aims it at you, flickers down onto your pale pale expression. You look like you're about to pass out, and he couldn't be happier.

The air screams in your ears when he takes off without warning. Your arms wrap around his neck on instinct, thanks to Mark taking you out for ' fly dates' every other night when he's not a superhero around the world and beyond. Your heart drops in your stomach at the thought of your boyfriend. For all he knows, he thinks you died in whatever is going on back home. How you wish you could have told him you loved him back in that one short phone call, now who knows when you'll ever be able to say it to him again?

Houses, streetlights, skyscrapers, and cars blur beneath the both of you. City life goes on peacefully from what you can decipher in watercolors that whirl below teary gaze. You blame the wind for that, and not the dread and homesickness that makes your arms wrap tighter around the male. You hate how your body reacts to your kidnapper, just because he has the same build and the same figure as your boyfriend. Maybe in some sick delusion, he would sound like him too if he was nice to you and touched you better.

You're jostled in his arms when the two of you descend rather roughly in front of a house. His house. It looks perfectly fine, with nothing outta place. The color of the shingles and paneling still matches Mark's home back in your world. You swallow thickly, hating how perfectly normal his world looks. You thought someone like him would be born and bred in nothing but hellfire and misery. So what went so damn wrong for this superhero to end up fucked and abnormal in attitude.

"Home sweet home." He speaks, cheery with a sort of raspy twang in his tone that makes something in your spinal column curl inwards. You hate it. His arms, still wrapped around you, shove you forward.

You stumble your way forward, as the invincible guides you forward like smelly dumb cattle. You haven't dared to open your mouth, not yet. Not when you fear to make a fool of yourself to this version's mother and his father. Who knows what this Omni-Man was capable of in this world? Time travel, dimensions, and realities were still fresh to you. Mark never spoke in such detail about them, just due to how worried or uneasy you looked when he had to describe just how different alien anatomies are from your own. You did like the mementos he brought, however, the weird rocks he'd pocket somehow in the nonexistent pockets of his suit. The crumbles of alien flora, or pretty architecture pieces he'd slip in the confines of his boot for safekeeping so he can show it off when he's back in your bed and telling you the very few stories he had about his time in space or whatnot.

Your eyes droop down on the corners, heartache wracking your chest at possibly never getting to giggle over Mark's terrible impressions of the species he'd meet, just so he could see you smile after you were done worrying over him.

"Watch it." You hissed under your breath when you got pushed forward again. The tips of your shoes tripped over the only step to the Graysons' front door.

He ignores you, 'cept for putting a gloved hand on the back of your neck while his other hand reaches over your shoulder for the doorknob, and pushes the door open after a twist of his wrist.

Where you expected to be greeted by Oliver running around, or gossiping to his mom about his older brother sneaking out in the middle of the night to see his version of a girlfriend or partner. You're met with stomach-dropping silence, and the house looks empty. The house doesn't even feel like a home that Mark Grayson's home typically felt like when you visited it often. It felt more like a prison, and your jailer was guiding you by the neck inside. The home felt cold, blinds pulled tight enough to hide the outside world from your wandering gaze. Your arms wrap around your middle and squeeze to try and conserve what little body heat you have.

The door of your cell closes behind you, and you jump too high, much to the chagrin of the Invincible that held you collared. He exhales from his nose, sliding the deadbolt of the lock with his other hand.

He doesn't give you much time to play spot the difference between the living room and kitchen of the house before he leads you up the stairs to the bedrooms. His fingers are a constant reminder as they brush up and down over the pulse point of your neck. You take the steps one at a time, choking down another bout of nausea when his supposed bedroom door stares you in the face. You brace for the worst, thinking that this is where you'll die. This sick bastard just likes to play guard and prisoner with his victims before he tears them in half and goes to sleep in their blood and gore.

His bedroom looks just the same, clean and untouched. The bed made, the posters of Science Dog and other comics have been stripped from the walls. Anything that screamed childlike and so young adult have been scrubbed from the small bedroom, it's so sterile and bland. Another shove and you're sent taking a few steps roughly into the bedroom, catching yourself before you trip and fall.

"Get to liking it here, I don't care either way." The male leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest while his eyes trail over your figure behind black lenses. "I'll be back later."

Your eyes widen, and the thought of being left alone makes your whole body seize up in a wash of unease. "Wait! You can't just kidnap me and leave me here, I don't even know you."

"Watch me." In a blink, before you can comprehend the audacity of it all, the bedroom door closes and locks in front of you. The invincible is gone in a flash, his footsteps thudding away and down the stairs methodically slow.

Panic seizes in your mind, and stupidly you rush forward, trying your dumb luck at wiggling the doorknob frantically. Your breath comes out in faster beats, you're on the brink of hyperventilation when the door doesn't open, and you turn on your heel to give a try at the open-faced windows. The window sills don't budge an inch when you try and wrench slightly dusty glass panes open, your muscles quiver and strain. Your face turns fuchsia in the worthless effort he's gone ahead and planned for you to try and run. He's nailed or glued the windows shut. The walls feel like they're closing in as you grow light-headed with all your wasted strength to fight a losing battle against stubborn window panes. At some point, you're begging for mercy under your breath. Hoping some god, any god, would take pity on your nightmarish situation and save you as best they can.

But they don't. You wear yourself out before any higher being can be bothered to hear your reverent prayers. The walls of the bedroom close more around you, the oxygen in the room grows thinner, and your heart beats harder and your chest even tries and keep you functioning. You're spiraling into a panic attack, or maybe even a heart attack, with how your arms feel prickly and sharp under the layers of skin and muscle. Either or, you hope one of them kills you before you come to accept that you're a prisoner now. At some point, your ass thuds down on the hardwood floor and you end up curling in on yourself. You form into a tight little ball of tears and snot, you're crying. You've panicked yourself enough to crash down hard and let your weary body sob and scream into the folds of your clothing. Your cries bounce off the walls of Mark Grayson's bedroom, it's a mockery of what was once your safe space.

[nehi-soda]

Bite the Hand that Needs You -

trailer park!joel miller x female reader

Explicit; Minors DNI 18+ only.

Summary: Your sharp tongue gets you into trouble.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: DUB CON, established relationship, unprotected p-in-v sex, rough sex, oral sex (m receiving), profanity, size kink, spanking, breath play, praise kink, dd/lg undertones, unspecified age gap, humiliation kink, dirty talk, creampie, possessive behaviour, pet names (babygirl, darlin,' good girl). No outbreak, older boyfriend!joel, redneck!joel, trailer park trash!joel. No use of Y/N. Mood board for aesthetics only; reader's features aren't specified other than Joel can pick them up.

A/N: This was inspired by an opening scene from No Country for Old Men, featuring Llewelyn Moss (who, as I read, served as inspiration for Joel) and Carla Jean.

The trailer door slammed hard enough to rattle the loose siding, the hiss of the cheap hydraulic arm dragging out the sound until it snapped shut. Joel stomped inside, his boots heavy, leaving clods of dirt and god knows what else on the already dingy linoleum. He looked like he’d crawled through hell. Grease streaked his arms, dust clung to his sweat-soaked shirt, and his face had that particular scowl—the one that meant trouble had followed him home again.

You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, barefoot in a short ratty old nightdress. A cigarette dangled from your lips, trailing smoke toward the low ceiling fan that clunked with every uneven rotation.

“Jesus, Joel, what’d you get into this time?” You didn’t bother hiding the bite in your tone. “You look like someone dragged you through the back end of a damn cattle chute.”

He didn’t answer. Just grabbed a beer from the fridge, twisted the cap off, and tossed it onto the counter without even looking at you. You hated when he did that—just skated past your questions like you were a mosquito buzzing in his ear.

“Hey,” you snapped, louder this time. “Don’t just walk in here all covered in—what the hell even is that? Mud? Blood? What the fuck have you been doing?”

He took a long pull from the bottle, the muscles in his throat working as he swallowed. “I don’t need to explain myself to you,” he muttered, voice low and gravelly.

“Like hell you don’t,” you shot back, pushing off the counter and squaring up to him, not caring that he had at least a foot and a hundred pounds on you. “You come in here looking like death warmed over, tracking shit all over the floor, and I don’t get an explanation? Fuck you, Joel.”

That got his attention. His eyes, sharp as broken glass, cut to you. “What’d I tell you about that mouth?”

You rolled your eyes, the cigarette dangling precariously. “Oh, here we go. Mister Big Man can’t handle a little attitude. What’re you gonna do, Joel? Lecture me?”

His lip curled, just enough to show his teeth. “You keep runnin’ it, I’m gonna take you in the back and shut you up real damn quick.”

“Big talk,” you fired back, though your pulse kicked up hard at his proposition.

He stepped closer, close enough that you could smell the spur tang of sweat and dirt on him. “You don’t wanna test me tonight, darlin’.”

“Don’t I?” The words slipped out before you could think better of them, your chin tipping up in defiance. You’d been pushing his buttons all week, and some stupid part of you wasn’t ready to stop.

Joel moved fast, his hand shot out gripping your jaw, forcing you to look up at him as he plucked the cigarette from between your fingers, taking a long, deliberate drag. He exhaled slowly, the smoke curling around your face. “That’s it,” he growled, low and rough like the rumble of an engine about to stall. “Get your ass in the bedroom. Now.”

You didn’t move, half out of defiance, half because the heat between your legs had turned your knees to mush. “Make me.” You spoke quietly between squished cheeks.

Joel's eyes darkened as they did, a feral spark igniting in their murky depths. Before you could spit another defiant word, he hauled you up as if you weighed nothing, slinging you over his shoulder like a foreman might toss a sack of feed. You clung to the flannel on his back in tight fists like a defiant child.

“Joel, goddammit—” you kicked and screamed, but the sharp crack of his palm against your now exposed ass cut you off mid-protest, the sting lingering just long enough to make you bite your tongue.

“You got yourself in trouble, baby girl,” he growled before he carried you through the narrow hallway, shoving open the door to the cramped bedroom with his boot, the hinges creaking in protest.

He didn’t bother with the light. The room was dim, lit only by the faint orange glow of a streetlamp outside the room’s one grimy window, and the yellowed net curtain barely gave you privacy. Shadows clawed at the walls as he kicked the door shut behind him, the small space feeling even smaller as he threw you down onto the mattress, the springs groaning under your weight. You scrambled up onto your elbows, glaring at him even as your body betrayed you, thighs clenching together in anticipation. “You’re such a goddamn caveman,” you spat, but your voice wavered just enough to make him smirk.

“Still feel like runnin’ that pretty little mouth, huh?” he asked, his shadowy broad frame towering over you like the monsters your dad would say were all in your head when you couldn’t sleep at night as a kid.

You swallowed hard, your pride warring with the way your body burned under his gaze. “Yeah,” you shot back, though your voice trembled just enough to betray you. “What the hell are you gonna do about it?” A shiver raced down your spine, pooling heat low in your belly as your legs subconsciously parted exposing your lacey panties you could feel were already soaked through.

Joel’s lips curved into a slow, predatory smirk as he reached out, tangling his hand in your roots and dragged you off the bed in one swift motion. "Don’t worry, darlin’. I’m gonna put it to some fuckin' use,” he spat. You stumbled off the bed and to the floor with a yelp, the threadbare carpet offering little comfort for your knees.

“You keep pushin’ me, and this is what you get,” he growled, his voice low and menacing, vibrating through the small room. His grip on your hair tightened, tilting your head back so you were forced to look up at him. His other hand went to his belt, the leather sliding free with a sharp hiss.

You opened your mouth to spit some smartass retort, but the words stuck in your throat as your brain seemed to switch off when he pulled his cock free, hard and heavy, the sight making your breath hitch. He didn’t ask, didn’t wait for permission—Joel never did. His hand on your hair tugged harder, guiding your mouth open as he lined himself up, the head of his cock brushing against your lips.

"Suck it."

You parted your lips, hesitant but burning, the heat in his gaze daring you to disobey. The second your mouth wrapped around him, Joel groaned low in his throat, the sound rough and raw as his hips bucked forward. He didn’t ease into it—he pushed in deep, hitting the back of your throat with a force that made your eyes water.

“That’s it,” he hissed, his hand fisting tighter in your hair as he set a brutal pace, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth with relentless precision. "See, we get on so much better when you just shut the fuck up and be a good little slut for me."

You gagged, your hands gripping his thighs for balance as he used you, each thrust driving the breath from your lungs. Tears streamed down your face, mixing with the spit that dripped from the corners of your mouth, but Joel didn’t stop. He was relentless, his groans and growls filling the room as he forced you to take every inch of him. You tried to garble insults back at him for being so patronising but your mouth what too full of his cock.

"Shhh now, baby, just take it like a good girl."

And suddenly, he pulled you back and pushed you up against the end of the bed, caged in by his legs; your head pinned between the edge of the mattress and his cock being rammed down your throat.

You were a fucking mess, a pretty mess, but your makeup ran like a pornstar in one of those movies they rented in the back of every seedy truck stop—eyes all glassy and vacant.

“Fuckin’, shit", he moaned, his voice thick and strained as his fingers tightened in your hair, keeping your head pinned right where he wanted as he rutted his hips forwards. "Fuckin' perfect like this. Chokin’ on it, takin’ me so goddamn good.”

He pushed in balls deep and held it there. You slapped his arm and thighs, your desperation leaking through in frantic jerks when he cruelly pinched your nose and cut off your oxygen supply for a little too long.

“Uh-uh,” he muttered his voice low and mocking, “Not yet. You can take it. You’re my good girl, ain’t ya?”

The tears streamed down your face said otherwise, but he finally decided you could breath again and pulli out of your throat completely just as the black spots start to dance at the edges of your vision, and you gasped, sucking in air in great, greedy gulps. A line of spit connected your lips to the tip of his swollen cock. 

"Good job, baby. You got me nice and hard." he cooed.

"Fuck you," you spat with absolute disdain.

"Aw, I love you too," he mocked, giving a couple light slaps to your wet cheek.

And before you could catch a break, he dragged you to your feet and back onto the bed, pinning you to the mattress with one hand gripping your wrists above your head and the other slid lower, dipping into your panties and teasing your needy little pussy with a sick tenderness as if he wasn’t just skull fucking you. You wanted to scream at him, hit him, claw at him, fuck him, but all you could do was gasp and moan and writhe and buck your hips against his hand.

“Look at you,” he muttered, voice gravelly and full of contempt that somehow made your pussy wetter. “Mouthy as all hell a minute ago, now you’re soakin’ my damn hand. You gonna tell me you don’t like this?”

“Shut up,” you hissed, but the tremble in your voice gave you away. You twisted under him, trying to pull your wrists free, but his grip tightened, and he just laughed at you.

Your legs twitched involuntarily as his thumb found your clit, circling with maddening precision. Your nails dug into the cheap polyester comforter, dragging it up in your fists. “You’re such a piece of shit,” you hissed, but it came out more like a whimper.

“And you love it,” Joel growled, his lips brushing your jaw. He smelled like sweat and beer and the faint metallic tang of blood, but it was intoxicating. “You’d be bored stiff with anyone else, and you know it.”

You hated how right he was, hated the way his words made the fire in your belly burn hotter. His teeth grazed your collarbone before he bit down just hard enough to leave a mark. He yanked your slip dress up, rough fingers sliding over your bare skin, pulling a gasp from your throat. His mouth was on you a second later, flattening his tongue and suckling on your pebbled nipples.

“Goddamn it, Joel,” you squirmed, your body arching into him despite your better judgment.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he muttered against your skin, “Say my name like you mean it.”

He pulled back just enough to shove his jeans down lower. You watched, chest heaving, as he fisted his hard length.

“Turn over,” he ordered.

You hesitated and his is jaw ticked, his patience clearly hanging by a thread. “What, are you too cock drunk or somethin’? I said turn over, 'm gonna fuck you proper,” he growled, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your stomach like you weighed nothing and ripping your panties off in one swift motion.

"Goddamn, baby. You may have a stupid mouth, but you've sure got sweet little ass," he said, his hand coming down hard on your ass, the sharp sting making you yelp, cutting through the haze in your head.

The mattress springs groaned again as he pinned his full body weight against your back and shoved your knees apart, the cool air hitting your bare leaking cunt.

And then he was inside you, the sudden stretch making you cry out. He didn’t give you a second to adjust, didn’t give you the chance to catch your breath—he just started slamming into you.

Your cries were muffled by the pillow you buried your face into as he gripped your hips and fucked you deeper into the mattress, the springs bouncing you back onto his dick. You relaxed your lower body, embracing the way he was using you like his personal fuck toy. 

“Don’t you dare stop talkin’ now,” he growled, “You got plenty to say when you’re givin’ me shit—what about now, huh? Tell me how good it feels.”

You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction, but then his hand slid around to press against your clit, and the sound that came out of your mouth wasn’t anything close to coherent.

"Fuck, feels good-" you choked on your words.

“That’s my girl,” he muttered, his voice smug with triumph.

You didn’t stay quiet—not when he tilted his hips just right, not when his rough fingers dug into your hips, not when his cocked dragged against your sweet spot. Trembling gasps and moans you couldn’t suppress escaped your lips and tears streaked your face as you clutch the sheets in white-knuckled fists.

Jesus, the neighbours will be bangin' on the walls thinkin' I'm killin' ya' again," he murmured, his voice dark and gravelly, almost taunting. 

“Hey,” he mutters, his voice low and raw, but not soft. Joel Miller doesn’t do soft. His thumb brushes roughly along your cheek, smearing the evidence. “What’s this now?”

You bit your lip, stifling a cry and buried your face but the tears kept coming, hot and humiliating, pooling on the pillow beneath you. The pleasure was too much—his rhythm, the heat of his skin. You didn’t want to cry, didn’t even understand why you were, but it was like every nerve in your body had snapped, leaving you open, raw, and helpless beneath him.

“I’m not—” you started, but the words dissolved into a broken sob when he angled his hips just right, grinding into you with a precision that was almost cruel. Your legs trembled, thighs burning as you tried to hold yourself together, but it was no use.

“Not what?” he growled, leaning closer, his chest pressing against your back, the full weight of him pressing you further into the bed. “Cryin’ all over my dick?” He laughed bitterly, the sound vibrating against your spine. “I can feel how tight your little pussy gets the harder you cry.”

His vulgar words were enough for your eyes to roll back, and you felt that white-hot sensation flood your body. “Fuck—Joel, I'm gonna cum-." you whimpered.

Your whole body tensed every nerve lit up at once as the tension coiled tighter and tighter, impossibly so, until it snapped with a force that stole the air from your lungs. The sobs tore out of you as your orgasm crashed over you, leaving you violently convulsing beneath him. Your cunt clenched around him, dragging him over the edge with you, and he groaned low in his throat, his hips stuttered as he spilled inside you.

The room was silent for a long moment after, the only sound was your ragged breathing and the faint hum of the ceiling fan. Joel finally rolled off you, collapsing onto his back beside you with a grunt.

“Still think I’m a piece of shit?” he asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Absolutely,” you said, but there wasn’t much bite in your tone. You were too spent to fight anymore.

“Good,” he said, his hand reaching out to trail lazily over your back. “Means I’m doin’ somethin’ right.”

You shuffled up leant against Joel’s chest, still trying to catch your breath, the stale air of the trailer thick around you, the scent of sweat and sex hung like a smothering blanket. He lit another cigarette, always Marlboro red, dragging deeply before exhaling a cloud toward the ceiling. His arm remained loosely draped over your waist.

“See, all you needed was a good fuckin,’” His voice was course but there was a smugness in his tone that you’d kill to wipe off his face if your body didn’t feel so wholly used and spent.

You tilted your head just enough to glance up at him, your lips curled into a half-sneer. 

He chuckles, deep and low, the sound vibrated against your skin. “You got your answer. I don’t explain myself to anyone.”

Your frustration flared again, simmering beneath the haze of pleasure that still buzzing in your veins. You shoved at his chest, but he didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. “You’re a goddamn nightmare, you know that?”

Joel shrugged, taking another drag. “Maybe. But you ain’t goin’ anywhere, are ya?”

The bastard. He was right, and you hated him for it. Hated the way his arrogance got under your skin, hated how he knew exactly what to say to keep you tethered to him like a moth to a goddamn flame. 

“I should kick your ass out of here,” you murmured half heartedly.

He smirked, his hand slid down your hip, gentle fingertips grazed over the bruises he’d left there. “Yeah? And who’s gonna keep you warm at night?”

You didn’t answer, too tired and content to fight. Instead, you nuzzled into his chest and watched the smoke dance out of his lips, staring at the cracked ceiling and wondering how the hell you ended up wrapped in the arms of a man who’s nothing but trouble, yet everything you couldn’t seem to let go of. If you told him you’d die here if you’d stay, he would hold you in his arms, and he’d love it that way.

divider by @adornedwithlight

*Some lines taken from Nicole dollanganger songs (Heart Shaped Bed, Runnin’ free).

[short-honey-badger]

Doll

Pairings: Shanks x Female Reader

Summary: Shanks meets an escaped slave from Marie Geois and swears to teach her how to live.

Notes* hey lovelies. As you can see from the oneshots, I'm finally back in action. I hope you enjoy the start of my new series that I'm planning to help me really get going. Expect some protective Shanks and some darker elements. Haki!user Reader, btw. Pretty fast pace just cause that how I enjoy writing him lol. I've really missed writing for him and sharing works with you wonderful people. Anyway, enjoy! ❤️

Doll Masterlist

There aren't many things that could surprise Shanks on the Grand Line anymore, but the woman that sat at the bar could definitely be considered a good one. He didn't recognize her, but he could tell that she was in a league above the other patrons that sat around the bar. She sat in the back corner, a bottle of booze sat on the table in front of her that she occasionally took a pull from. Shanks sat at the front and got the attention of the bartender.

“Who's she?” He asked and the man shrugged as he cleaned a dingy glass.

“Dunno. She blew in a couple of days ago. She pays, so I don't ask questions.”

Shanks huffed and ordered a drink for himself, “And whatever she's been drinking, too.”

Drinks in hand, Shanks stood from the bar and ambled over to the table where the woman sat. He plonked the bottle down and, head tilting to the side, “This seat taken?”

You looked up, blinking rapidly as if coming out of a daze and gave the redhead a smile once you focused on the ale he'd sat beside your empty one. “Is now.”

Shanks grinned and plonked down in the chair opposite you and leaned back and eyed you from under his bangs, “You from about here?”

The woman shakes her head, a mysterious little smirk painting her lips, “Nope. And I can tell that you aren’t either.”

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing in thought before her eyes brighten like a bulb has gone off, “You’re Shanks, right?”

The emperor huffs and gestures to himself, “You caught me.”

He doesn’t expect the woman to go quiet, an almost contemplative look about her as she shifts in her chair. He can’t help but lean in, curious despite himself.

“Maybe you could help me out then?” You murmur and flick your eyes up to meet his own. Shanks is surprised to see the desperation lingering there, hidden behind the self-assurdness that you seem to wear like a second skin. What would a girl like you need help with?

“Alright, I’ll bite. Tell me what’s going on. Don’t let my money go to waste though, doll,” he murmurs and gestures to the untouched ale that he’d brought over. You smile in thanks and take a sip, wetting your mouth as you get ready to spill. You can only hope that the emperor will accept.

With shaking hands you reach up and unbutton the top few notches of your shirt, just enough to expose your left shoulder where the brand still tugs uncomfortably at your skin. Even though you’ve had the brand for years now, you’ll never get used to the sickening way it pulls at your skin. The constant reminder that you were owned.

Shanks sucks in a sharp breath, the brand of a slave staring back at him in before he tears his eyes away and looks back at you, “How’d you escape?”

You grimace and button back up, eyes flinty, “My old master,” you hiss the word in disgust, “Sent me on an errand in Sabaody so I took my chance. That was about a month ago now. They’re stil looking for me.”

“Who got your off the archipelago?” Shanks asks and downs half his tankard of rum in one go. He’s met slaves before while visiting the string of islands, but with Silvers there, Shanks steered clear most of the time unless he happened to drift close. The though that even after all that Fisher Tiger had done, the Celestial Dragons still kidnapped and baught slaves. It disgusted the emperor to have seen that brand on a woman like you.

You shrug and bite your bottom lip. You busy your hands by playing with the ring of condensation that the bottle of ale has left behind, “Didn’t really catch their names. I stowed away the first ship I could find and I’ve been drifting ever since. I just… I can’t go back to that place Shanks. I don’t want them to find me.”

Shanks doesn’t know what makes him reach out, but he takes both your hands in his own, and wow, you were such a small thing weren’t you? He squeezes your palms and gives you a confident grin to hide the rage that threatens to erupt like an active volcano. He may have just met you, but there is a feeling in the pit of his stomach that tells him that he’d met someone special. Someone that could change his life, and he finds himself hardpressed to even think of letting you slip away from him.

“Don’t worry, doll. I won’t ever let that happen,” Shanks swears, and it’s then that a thought crosses his mind. A blush flushes his face and he peers at you, “Maybe you outta tell me your name, though. Or I could just keep calling you doll. Either works for me.”

Your laugh sends a shot of heat straight to his stomach, and your smile could light up the sky, “My name is _, but you can keep calling me Doll if you’d like.”

Shanks meets your grin with one of his own and then stands, carefully pulling you up with him, “Well, doll. How about you come meet my crew?”

Shanks stays close to you for the rest of the evening, introducing you to each one of his crewmates and pointing out what they do aboard the ship. You smile and make conversation, though some of it is stilted and awkward, like you aren’t sure how to talk to someone so casually. You loosen up after a couple more drinks, and find yourself leaning against your new captain, bottom lip stuck between your teeth as you watch the crew’s antics.

“I don’t want to be a burden to you, Shanks. Do you think that you could teach me?”

Your voice is soft, breath featherlight against his skin, and Shanks thinks that he would do anything for you in that moment. Instead, he tips a bottle of rum up to his lips and takes a deep swig before he answers.

“Sure, sweetheart. What do you want to know?’

Your eyes burn with a sort of determination that the emperor doesn’t see often, and it makes anticipation well up in his chest as you lick your lips and look at him.

“Everything, Shanks. I want to know everything.”

He sets the bottle away so that he can give you his full attention. He can feel the air thicken, the winds and sea changing as he dips his head and reaches out to cup your face in his hand. He swipes his thumb along your jaw, then your chin, eyes never leaving your own.

“Then that’s what I’ll do, Doll. I’ll teach you how to live, yeah?”

[asunsetgrace16]

✧ …𝗛𝗘𝗬 𝗗𝗔𝗗, 𝗙𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗬 𝗦𝗘𝗘𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘⎥𝗖𝗕98

Pairing: Connor Bedard x fem!Crosby!reader

Warnings: swearing

Summary: Connor and Y/N Crosby, Sidney's daughter, are in a secret relationship and are outed when she goes to the All Stars with her dad

Notes: The italics section is the flashback to how Connor and Y/N met. This is my new longest fic, and man I got carried away writing how Y/N and Connor met. Not really proofread, so hope for the best. Requested by anonymous.

masterlist⎥ navigation

Word Count: 2.3k

It’s not exactly unexpected, for Connor Bedard and Y/N Crosby to be dating. His childhood idol, her father. Their lives are interconnected by a web of hockey players, former teammates, and friendships a mile deep. But, the caveat is, no one actually knows they are together. 

Y/N knew her dad would lose his mind when he found out who exactly her boyfriend is. From the time she was old enough to date, the rule was no hockey players, absolutely no teammates, and especially no rookies. Will he find out? Eventually, but not any time soon if Y/N has anything to say about it.

-

“I have tickets to most of the Canadian games, and I want to watch them win gold, in person. I was planning on going to the condo. No Dad, I'm fine. No, you don’t need to have Auntie Taylor come with me. I’m absolutely taking advantage of the fact that we have a place right where the World Juniors are happening. I’m seventeen for God’s sake, and I’ve been fairly independent for years. I’ll be fine.” Y/N says, on the phone with her dad. 

“I know, but you’re still my little girl. I’ll always want to protect you, no matter how old you get.” her dad, Sidney, says.

“I know dad, but this will be good practice for when I’m away at university.” She tells him teasingly.

“Uhhhg, don’t remind me.” he groans, “I trust you not to burn the place down, and try not to go overboard, with anything. The credit card for food and stuff is in the safe, and you have your own for anything else. Call me, if you need anything.”

“Thanks dad, I will.”

“Love you honey.”

Love you too, dad. Bye.”

There, that’s settled, Y/N thinks to herself. She is already in Cole Harbour, staying with her grandparents for Christmas. They already know her plans, and she convinced –not that she needed any convincing– her aunt Taylor to come with her for a girls trip. She flips her laptop open, hits play on Downton Abbey, and finishes her packing. 

“Tay, are you ready yet?” Y/N calls a few hours later. She hefts her suitcase down the stairs, shouldering a backpack.

“Yeah bug, just put my bags in the car. Bring yours out here too.” Taylor replies, “We can be on the road in twenty if we hurry.”

“Make it fifteen.” Y/N challenges with a grin.

The preliminary round of the tournament passes fast. After the shocking Game 1 loss, Canada bounces back and plows through every game afterwards. An exciting quarterfinals win against Slovakia has Canada set to play USA in the semifinals. A match up that always promises an electric game.

After the quarterfinal game, Y/N and Taylor head back to the dressing rooms and player’s entrance for a shortcut to the parking lot. They both have access, thanks to Sid. They talk excitedly about Bedard’s OT winner, a wicked 3-on-1 goal. 

“That was incredible.” Y/N exclaims. She’s no stranger to good hockey, but seeing a player that young, one her own age, to have such amazing talent is unreal to see. 

“Yes it was-” Taylor starts, but is cut off by a man in a suit stalking towards them.

“Hey! You two aren’t allowed back here. Players and staff only. Who do you think you are? Waltzing around here like you own the place? No respect anymore.” He rants before someone grabs him, pulling him away from Y/N and Taylor.

“I am so sorry about Randy. I’m Jim, by the way.” Jim apologizes, “I’m assuming that since you’re back here, you have permission. Is there something I can do to make it up to you? Wait, you’re Crosby’s daughter, aren't you? This makes a lot more sense now.”

“Yes I am, and we have permission. I can’t think of anything, it’s not necessary.” Y/N says. But Jim is determined, knowing who she is now. He offers to introduce the women to the team. They agree, and after Jim explains the situation to Randy, they all head back towards Canada’s dressing room. Talking the whole way, Jim explains that the team has a place rented for the tournament where the boys can hang out and relax. 

“If you’d like to join us, you are more than welcome. I won’t tell them who you are, I’ll let that happen naturally.” Jim says with a wink. “I want to see the look on their faces. It’s too bad your dad couldn't make it. That would really blow their socks off.” The group laughs and waits for Randy to make sure all the guys are decent, and beacons them in with a sheepish look, apologizing once again. The introduction is basic, no announcement or anything. Taylor and Y/N meet the rest of the staff first, quickly becoming engrossed in conversation. 

“So,” the head coach says, “Crosby’s daughter. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“And you.” Y/N replies.

“Coach, did you just say Crosby's daughter? She's here? Holy shit!” one of the players exclaims, joining their little group. “I’m Brandt, nice to meet you. Is your dad here, by chance?” He says, very quickly. The energy rolls right off of him.

“No, he’s not, unfortunately. West Coast road trip.” Y/N says, failing to hide a giggle. 

“Wanna mess with the guys with me?” Brandt asks, a scheming look on his face.

“Always.”

“Ok, I’m going to introduce you around, but not mention your last name. I want to see how long it takes the guys to figure out who you are.”

“Oh I like that.” They grin at each other, and make their way around the room. Before long, the whole team is standing or sitting close together, chatting with Y/N. The adrenaline can still be felt in the dressing room. 

“So how long are you in town for?” Dylan asks, “Hopefully long enough to watch us win gold.”

Y/N and Brandt exchange a look, “I’m planning on it. I don’t have to be back in Pittsburgh until the tenth.”

“Pittsburgh? You came all the way up here, to watch a Canadian team win? That makes no sense.” Logan wonders, looking confused.

“Oh I’m Canadian, I just live in Pittsburg with my dad. I was up visiting my grandparents for Christmas.” Y/N says. It is getting awfully difficult to keep a straight face. 

“Where do your grandparents live?” That comes from Olen.

“Cole Harbour.”

“Does that mean you've met Sidney Crosby?” Ethan asks. 

“Yup, see him all the time.” She bites back a smile. Brandt has to turn around and take a deep, shuddering breath so he doesn’t give them away. Connor sees him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Wait, you’re Y/N Crosby!” Connor says, standing up just as Y/N and Brandt burst out laughing. The rest of the boys look shocked as the two struggle to stop laughing. Connor grins, chuckling as Y/N wipes honest-to-goodness tears from her eyes. The staff and Taylor laugh amongst themselves, watching the young folks. 

“Guilty as charged.” She says breathlessly, silently wondering if Brandt is going to die of oxygen deprivation at this point. His face is pretty red. Now the questions are really flowing by the time Brandt finally regains some composure. The excited chatter doesn’t stop at the restaurant, either. Y/N and Taylor are invited to stay. As the evening winds down, Y/N finds herself with Connor, conversation flowing easily. 

“Nice goal, by the way. Dad was impressed.” Y/N says, nudging his shoulder with hers.

“Really?” Connor flushes. Cute.

“Yeah, he sees a lot in you.”

“That is…I have no words.” He admits. “Do you, um, do you think you’d want to sit with my family for the rest of the games? I want to talk to you more, and um…I’m just going to stop talking before I make a fool out of myself.”

“I’d love to.”

Connor and Y/N spend a lot of time together in the following days. She sits with his family during the final, and celebrates with them after they win gold.

“We did it!” Connor shouts, picking Y/N up and spinning her around. There is a moment when he sets her down where her arms are still on his shoulders and his hands are on her waist. The noise fades away, just the two of them in a little bubble. “Can I have your number? I’d like to keep talking to you, and take you out sometime.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” She replies.

-

Now, over a year and 10 months into dating later, Connor and Y/N are both in Toronto for the All Stars. 

“Hey baby.” Connor says, putting his phone away when Y/N slips into the empty visitors dressing room.

“Hey Con.” She goes to him easily, settling comfortably into his open arms. He puts his chin on her head and tightens his hold on her. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. I’m glad you decided to come.”

“Me too.” She tips her head up, meeting Connor in the middle for a sweet kiss. They go back to their hug, Y/N tucked against his chest, feeling warm again in the cold arena. They simply stand like that, swaying gently and soaking up the moment. They get so wrapped up in each other that they fail to hear voices outside the door. Connor goes to kiss Y/N again, but is interrupted by the door slamming open. Their heads snap to the door, wide eyed and scared.

“Y/N ANNA CROSBY. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?” Sidney yells furiously, steam practically shooting from his ears like a cartoon character. Nate is standing close behind him, and Cale, Mathew Barzal, and Brady Tkachuk stand in the doorway. Connor and Y/N take a step back from each other, but keep their hands tightly clasped.

“How dare you not tell me about this. You know the rules, I expect you to follow them.”

“I-” She begins.

“And you,” Sid says, pointing at Connor, “I expected better from you. You’re a good kid, but I have rules for a reason.” Y/N grips Connor’s hand, squeezing three times. 

“You can’t control me like this, Dad. I’ve never had a real relationship because of you. So much of my life is wrapped up in hockey that it was easy to find my person there, and if it wasn’t a hockey-playing boyfriend, it was a hockey fan boyfriend which is worse. All they ever wanted to talk about was you, they never wanted me for who I am. Or you just plain scared them off because ‘no one is good enough for my daughter so why should she even bother’.” Y/N says back to him. Her chest is heaving and she is fighting off tears. 

“I can’t believe that you didn’t tell me this. How long have you two been together anyways?” Sid asks, still pissed off.

“Ten months.” Connor replies, voice strong and true despite the situation. He is nervous, of course, but he loves Y/N too much to let his childhood idol have much of an impact.

“TEN MONTHS!” Sid exclaims, incredulous that his daughter kept this secret, “Bloody hell. What possessed you to keep this from me?”

“This exact reaction that I knew would happen. I knew that if I told you when Connor first asked me out, you would flat-out forbid me to see him, and that wouldn’t have ended the way you wanted anyway. At least this way the two of us can act as a united front and you can see that this isn’t bad. We are both 18, legal adults. You can’t tell me what to do anymore.”

Sid stays silent. He is still angry, but the figurative steam has gone away. Nate and the others hover around the door.

Y/N continues, “I get it, Dad. You just want to protect me, and I love you for it. But I’m not a little kid anymore, I can’t be sheltered forever. And Connor’s good to me. You know he would be.” She takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I knew that if I did, you would react exactly the way you are. I wanted to be able to figure out my relationship without my dad looking over my shoulder the whole time.”

Sid’s face falls at her monologue. He can finally understand what Y/N was trying to say for years. “I’m sorry sweetheart. I had no intention for it to go that far. It is hard to watch you grow up, but I need to grow up some too and understand that you are an adult now. In my attempts to protect you, I drove you straight into what I always knew would happen. Thankfully, you picked a good one.” Sid pulls his daughter into a hug, tears threatening to fall. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me, it wasn’t fair of me.”

“Thanks dad, for apologizing. I know you meant well, but I don’t think this wasn’t the best way to get you to see my side of it” Y/N quips, a wry smile on her face. 

“I’m still pissed that you didn’t tell me, but I’d rather it was you than a lot of other guys” Sid states, reaching out to shake Connor’s hand, “but if you hurt her, I have a lot of power in this game.”

“I know,” Connor says, eyes focused on Y/N. A look so full of love even Sidney can’t deny it, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Awwww.” The trio looks up to see the other four guys with their hands clasped over their hearts, cute pouts on their lips. 

“The babies are in love.” Cale says with a grin.

[carolmunson]

almost fell into that hole in your life.

orange colored sky set list.

older!modern!eddie x thirties!reader summary: ficlet. you haven't been acting like yourself these days and eddie notices. unfortunately for you, eddie can't help but wanna make you feel better. tw: implied depressed reader, alcohol mention. implied praise kink if you squint really hard? still 18+ tho! songspiration: black balloon | the goo goo dolls

Eddie doesn't like it when things are too quiet, it makes him hear the static in his brain -- gets too aware. He can hear his eyes blink, the sound of his breath, so when you've been clammed up on the couch all night on your phone he can't help but start to make noise.

"Babe," he says from the kitchen, "Do you want me to make quesadillas or something? I have some shredded chicken I wanted to use up."

"Hm," you respond. He barely hears it, padding his way over in his 'house slides' that you like to tease him about. Such an old man.

"I was thinking quesadillas and I can make some margs, would you like that?" he asks, standing at the end of the couch. The way you're laying on your side, eyes glazed over, is enough to let him know that you haven't heard a word he's said for the last hour. Just scrolling with with a glassy look, numbing yourself ten times over.

"Peach," he says, albiet little sharply, "Are you listening to me?"

"Hmm, no way, that's wild," you respond, a zombie in his midst -- replying just to reply, to fake like you're hearing him. Eddie bites his tongue and then his cheeks to sting the frustration out.

"Hey," he says again, ringed hand reaching down to squeeze your chenille blanket covered thigh, "You hearin' me?"

You finally look up and see his face and the world around you comes into view. In your trance, the world outside had become night, the TV was off, you weren't even sure how much time had passed since you plopped yourself under Eddie's blanket on the sectional in his livingroom.

"Yeah," you squeak out, heart racing because you can tell he's disappointed, "Y-yeah I'm hearing you."

"Then what did I just say, huh?" he doesn't sound mad, or accusatory. Worse, he sounds disheartened. And even worse of worse, he sounds worried.

"Um...it was about um, you were asking about food," you try to answer confidently, and you know it was food adjacent, but you aren't sure.

"Do you want me to make quesadillas?" he asks again, "I have some chicken I wanna use up and I got all the stuff for 'em."

"Yeah," you nod, "Yeah that sounds nice."

"You wanna come help me?" he asks, "I can make us some drinks while we work."

"Uh," you start, that familiar pull tugging in your chest -- laying down feels good, getting lost back in your phone will feel better. It's so comfortable to hide under his chenille blanket and tune out. It feels better like that.

"Please?" You hesitate again, but you're not fast enough to redirect Eddie's attention, and it's then that he catches it in your eyes. The ache. He comes around the the front of the couch to sit in the divot of your thighs and chest, hand moving from your thigh to your shoulder. "What's goin' on?" his low voice twangs at your chest.

"Nothing," you urge, but your voice is too high and so are your eye brows. He doesn't believe you for a second.

"I don't like when you lie to me, peach," he confesses, "Don't lie to me, please."

"Psh, okay dad," you tease, trying to lighten the mood while you get up.

"I'm not kidding with you," Eddie's timbre keeps you in place, "I'm not playing around, babe. What's goin' on with you? You've been -- y'know -- you've been really I dunno -- inward this week. I'm missin' you."

"I'm okay," you urge again, but now you're too quiet. You don't mean it. He raises his brows and blinks at you in disbelief.

"I promise, I'm okay," you continue, "I'll be okay. It's fine. I'm fine."

"You're not making a great case for yourself." "Well then it's a good thing I'm not a lawyer," you joke again. He doesn't buy it.

"You're sad, baby," he tells you, reaching up to hold your cheek in his palm, "Why can't you just tell me? It's okay that you're sad."

"I'm not!" you try to say cheerily again, but the words get stuck in yout throat -- eyes stinging with wetness after hours of being open.

"I'm not sad," you say breathlessly, choking on the lie while a tear sneaks its way onto your lash line.

"Oh, sugar," he coos while you try to tread the water of your feelings -- flailing to keep your head above the pain in your chest.

"No, no, I'm okay -- I'm fine!" but you're starting to cry now and it kills him. Before you know it, he's made his way under the chenille blanket with you, nose to nose.

"Hey, hey, it's okay if you're not fine," he coaches you through your deep breaths while you try to guide yourself out of a full blown sob, "You can tell me. I'm here. I'm here, okay?"

"I'm sorry," your voice becoming a wraith of itself.

"Don't be sorry," he presses himself against you, enough so that you can feel the pressure of him and the pressure of the back of the couch on both sides, "Just talk to me."

"I don't..." you shrug, "I don't have anything to say."

"Just sad?" he asks, you feel an arm snake around you between your back and the the couch, pressing your chest to his. You nod, it feels pathetic, but you're cornered now and there's no use in arguing with someone who was born to win every argument he's ever had.

"Yeah," you mumble weakly, "Yeah, I'm sad. Think I'm more than sad."

He nods, his demeanor softening to something gentle -- heart reaching out to yours with caution like you'll run away, "Yeah, honey I can tell. You really haven't been actin' like yourself these days."

"I just don't wanna bother you," you confess, the brick coming off your chest, "I always get over it, I don't wanna like -- bum you out if it's not like...if it's not a big deal."

"I don't care if it's a big deal or a little deal," his heart bleeds for you while he speaks, "I don't care if you're gonna be over it in fiteen minutes. When you're hurtin' like this -- babe you gotta tell me. You gotta talk to me. Or else how're we gonna make this work?"

"It's just not important."

Eddie can tell that you mean it when you say it; he's never felt more frustrated with whoever convinced you that this was true.

"It's super important to me," he encourages, "Your shit is like, top of my list babe."

"Top of your list?" you crack a weak smile.

"You think the first person I think of when I wake up and the last person I think of when I go to sleep isn't on the top of my priority list?"

"Okay, well now you're doing to much, Ed," your face scrunches in the way that he loves, not letting you totally get out of his hold yet while you try to squirm away.

"Hey, look at me, before you get up," he cups your cheek again, gently, your eyes meeting his brown ones. Eddie leans in for a kiss, a soft reminder that he's not going anywhere anytime soon -- not that you'd want him to. Not with lips like that.

When you break away, his nose nuzzles yours, coasting up to press another gentle kiss on the center of your forehead. Long and intentional, warm enough to get you to close your eyes.

"It's gonna be okay," he assures, "It's okay if you're not, but -- I gotcha until you're feelin' better, hm?"

You nod, sniffling snottily and wiping your wet cheek.

"I am ordering us quesadillas," he whispers, stealing another kiss from you, "Because if you're going to rot on my couch, I'm gonna make you rot next to me."

"We're rotting!" you cheer half heartedly, pouting when he gets up to get his phone for take out. When he finishes, he holds his hand out and you sheepishly put your hand in his.

Eddie curls bounce when he shakes his head, "Peach, you know what I'm asking for."

"No," you frown, "I need it to rot."

"Peach...please?" it's more of a warning than a question, and you slide your phone into his hand. He doesn't check it, but he knows that if you don't have it 'locked away' in his sweats pocket for a while you'll just end up zoning out the same way you did before.

"Thanks, sugar," he smirks, "You're so good."

Your cheeks burn at the priase, rolling your eyes with a grin that cracks against your features, "Don't. We're not doing anything sexy."

"Yeah I know," he shrugs innocently, finding his way next to you again, "But when you smile like that, who am I to deny you a lil' somethin'?"

He dims the lights in the open space from the remote on the coffee table, settling in while you make yourself comfortable in his side. Eddie keeps you close on nights like this, when he knows you're on unsteady ground. You're still quiet, but the start of another Twilight Zone marathon keeps you more alert than before. With steady breaths you start to relax in what he'd deem a healthier way than before, and the quiet doesn't make his brain too fuzzy this time around. In the still of the living room and the hum of Rod Serlings voice, he feels you squeeze his hand -- a silent thank you. He doesn't think he could be any more in love.