#ruthless sass

[ennn]

Absolutely not complaining but it is curious that there are a bunch of medical AU fics and I’ve not come across one that has had Agatha Harkness as a House MD type character when it fits like a glove.

[o4o41]

Rapha is an emotional Rapha-in-distress

Rise!Rapha is an emotional Raph-in-distress. He doesn't necessarily need to be lifted because he's huge and all. He'd like an emotional lift and support.

He can become a P-chan. And meet a human, they take care of him and he's touched. To take care of smb defenseless is a really great quality from them.

Or

Be saved Ariel-style or

be cared for like wound-healing (Maybe like a Dr Goodfellow type of woman, an only black woman from 1987 tmnt show. And I've said before that he will be interested in biology and heritage. In other version like TMNT Unleashed universe Rapha is a 'animal-planets' facts erudite).

He's a damsel dude-in-distress but in an emotional aspect. He'd like smb to lift him and make him secure. In a mental manner.

Rapha is an emotional Rapha-in-distress

[anglbunny]

PRO PLAYER!SAE AND HIS MEAN DOLL!GIRLFRIEND

private flights home,, lipstick on his neck,, stadium lights,, designer bags in his locker,, perfume laced hoodies,, iced-out watches,, thigh-high boots on his couch

“You look good in my jersey, baby. Too bad it won't stay on for more than five minutes.”

ʚ pro player!sae and doll!gf ɞ you're his favorite headache. Your the kind of girlfriend who shows up to his games late, wearing his number stitched onto a miniskirt, camera-ready and unbothered. the media calls you his doll, that's only when you keep your mouth closed. because sae knows you don't take shit from anyone or anything and he thinks it's the hottest thing ever.

ʚ pro player!sae and doll!gf ɞ you're mean, sharp-tongued, and hard to impress. call him “starboy” when you're annoyed, “baby” only when you wants something. but you're so obsessed with him, like he is with you. he dresses you up in designer and silk only to take it off the second you guys get home.

ʚ pro player!sae and doll!gf ɞ he’s cold with everyone but you. on the field, he’s ruthless — off it, he melts under your manicured fingers and sweet voice. no one gets to him like you do. He's not afraid to keep you in check, though. no matter how much you act like you're in control, when sae has you under him, his fat tip teasing your entrance, you forget it all and all you want is for him to pound you into the bed, your nails digging into his back — which his teammates will question him about — as you beg him to put it in.

ʚ pro player!sae and doll!gf ɞ He’s not afraid to keep you in check, to remind you who’s really in charge. When you’re too sassy, too full of attitude, he’s the one who’s not afraid to make you cry in bed and make you apologize. but in the end, you both are perfect for eachother, with his idgaf attitude and your sass, it's so perfect it pisses others off.

ʚ pro player!sae and doll!gf ɞ they hate 'em cause they ain't 'em. everyone is jealous of you guys but only cause they can't have what you both have. his way of spoiling you is taking you to the Caribbeans every month on his private jet, or buying you a 2 million dollar necklace when you're upset. and when you fight, it’s fireworks — but when you make up, it’s ruinous. they’re toxic in theory, perfect in practice. he’s your world-class player. you're his designer nightmare. and both of you wouldn’t survive a day without each other.

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

♡ texts between them

♡...

♡...

A/n: cause why do i feel like sae would actually date a sassy b

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[Masterlist]

[writingfics-passingtime]

Gentle

pairing: Loki x female reader

synopsis: You don't think you're ticklish. Loki offers to prove you wrong.

word count: ~3500

warnings: lots of swearing, sexual tension, suggestive jokes and innuendo, possessive!Loki, minor violence (training sparring)

minors dni: this work does not contain smut, but does contain a sexually-charged relationship between the reader and an adult-aged character. I am not comfortable with engagement from anyone under the age of 18. Thank you for your understanding and respect.

note: This fic is for all the people who aren't affected by rough and tumble tickling. Who know that gentle can still be ruthless. I see you.

Sam was grounded.

So while he was strong, fast, and stubborn, he didn't have his wings. No aerial advantage.

And you were sharper. You moved with practiced ease, letting him tire himself out as he swung and lunged across the sunken sparring pit, meeting his strikes with sidesteps, well-placed counters, and a smirk you hoped was infuriating.

He went for your ribs.

You caught his wrist. Twisted. Used that leverage to hook your legs around him, then used his thrown balance to send him down.

His back hit the mat with a solid thud.

For a moment, he just blinked up at you, winded and momentarily stunned.

You grinned, settling your weight on top of him, knee digging into his ribs just hard enough to remind him who the boss was. "Tell me," you mused, "who did you say was getting their ass handed to them today?"

Sam huffed, mouth pursing into something half-annoyed, half-amused. "Yeah, screw you."

You arched a brow. "Not much of an apology."

His jaw tensed, eyes narrowing. A second’s hesitation. You pounced.

Your fingers slipped under his ribs, pressing just enough-

"Shit!"

Your smirk quickly became a grin.

A choked laugh ripped out of him before he could stop it. He bucked violently, twisting beneath you as laughter tore through him like he’d been struck by lightning.

Your hand followed wherever he turned. "Something wrong, Wilson?"

"You demon-" He twisted again, finally using sheer force to throw you off. You hit the mat with a sharp roll over your shoulder, coming up to your feet in a fluid motion, laughing as he swore under his breath, breathless.

You two weren't the only ones laughing.

Thor chuckled, amused. Bucky smirked, arms crossed. Steve shook his head, exasperated. And Loki...

Loki was watching you like a cat watching a caged bird.

He tilted his head, eyes sharp, lips lifting in a slow, knowing smirk. "That," he said, "seems like an extraordinarily reckless tactic to introduce."

You dusted your hands off. "How so?"

Loki’s smirk widened. He took the bait. "Because every person in this room is stronger than you. And now you’ve gone and planted a very particular idea in their minds."

His gaze dragged over you, slow and deliberate. You crossed your arms, lifting that same brow in challenge. Giving him space to continue monologuing.

"I mean, really," he mused in a silken voice, "do you truly want to tempt fate by giving them the notion to simply hold you down and take their revenge?"

The air shifted, and you held back your confident smirk, just to play with him a bit. "They're welcome to try."

Bucky stepped forward, rolling his shoulders. "It's futile." He shot you a begrudging look. "We learned a long time ago - she’s not ticklish."

Sam snorted. "Yeah, and it’s annoying as hell. Not many ways to get her back for all that sass."

You shot him a sly smile.

Loki made a sound in his throat - amused, unimpressed. "You’re wrong."

Your eyes slid back to him, fixing him with a look. "Wrong? I'm not ticklish, Loki."

Loki’s lips curled into a smirk. “Yes, you are.”

Tense silence fell upon the room as the others turned to Loki, confused, silently hoping.

The moment stretched, electric.

Smirking eye contact, the crackle of something just shy of violent, just shy of something else.

You squinted. "I'm not lying. I've never been ticklish. Ask anyone in here."

“Hmm, I'm sure they have tried with their clumsy mortal hands,” he murmured, voice low, rich, laced with wicked amusement. “I, however..." His smirk grew downright devious. "I could take you apart without breaking a sweat.”

Your stomach did something sharp and treacherous. The heat in your face spread down your neck before you could help it.

Sam snorted. “Oh my god.”

Bucky shook his head, muttering something under his breath. Steve exhaled through his nose, clearly regretting his life choices.

You, however, refused to flinch.

“Yeah, right.”

Loki chuckled, slow and dark.

“I’ll gladly prove it,” he insisted, voice a lazy taunt, “as soon as you’re not afraid to submit to it."

The words pushed like a slow blade between your ribs. The challenge, goading you to agree to being pinned and tested, for him to catalogue your responses. It’s not like he was going to succeed in tickling you, but submit?

No way in hell.

Your mouth parted in a scoff, heat flushing your neck, your cheeks, something sharp already forming on your tongue-

“Okay, this,” Sam interrupted, pointing one hand at each of you, “is the one of most sexual things I’ve ever seen in my life, and I once walked in on Thor oiling himself up for battle.”

You lunged.

Sam yelped, dodging back, but before you could reach him, a familiar arm hooked around your waist, effortlessly hauling you back onto the mat.

Bucky didn’t even flinch. “Easy, killer."

Loki chuckled, low and pleased, as you pushed Bucky's arm away.

“I do so enjoy this part,” the god mused.

You exhaled sharply, still flushed, still coiled tight with something restless and unsatisfied. You took the bait. “What part?”

His gaze flicked to yours, amused, knowing. “The part where you pretend to be annoyed.”

The others snorted.

Your mouth opened, but before you could fire back, Loki winked, turned, and made to leave.

Something in you rebelled.

“Hey!" You called after him. "Come put your money where your mouth is, Your Highness."

Loki stopped.

He exhaled a low, dark chuckle, then, slowly, began rolling up the sleeves of his tunic, baring forearms lined with lean, deceptive strength.

“I didn't think,” he murmured, “you'd want an audience for what’s about to transpire.”

Sam made a strangled noise. “I hate this. I hate this weird foreplay.”

Thor’s booming laugh filled the room.

"Of course I want an audience," you hummed, ignoring the riffraff. "I want them all to witness you making a fool of yourself." You stepped back onto the mat, uncrossing your arms, opening your stance. "But I’m not submitting. If you want me at your mercy, you’ll have to earn it.”

Loki turned back, and - lazily, deliberately, with a smirk that was pure sin - prowled toward you. “Very well,” he purred with a tilt of his head. “Let’s play.”

But the moment his feet hit the mat, you got the sinking feeling that you'd just walked into a trap.

You’d never sparred with Loki before. Hell, you’d never even seen him fight outside of an actual battlefield, where his chaos and skill blurred the line between strategy and sheer fucking audacity.

But now, circling each other under the dim gym lights, with him as your adversary, you saw raw, precise power coiled beneath his deliberate movements, waiting to unravel.

His stance was fluid, deceptively relaxed. Beautiful, cocky bastard. Every shift of his weight, every flicker of his gaze, calculated. You could tell he was watching you, reading you, in a way that made heat lick at the base of your spine. And deep in your belly.

So you lunged first.

In the blink of an eye, he dodged, slipping around your advance like a fast-flowing stream through your fingers, barely exerting any effort. Your body twisted, adjusting on instinct, throwing your weight into a feint before coming back around, aiming for his side.

But again, he was faster.

Loki flowed around your strike like water, his arm shooting out with lightning precision. You barely registered the movement before his palm landed solidly against your ribs - not with brute force, but a firm, pointed push, sending you stumbling off balance.

You caught yourself, breath coming sharp through your nose. He stood there, utterly at ease, watching you with a glint of amusement.

Smug, infuriatingly hot, cocky bastard.

You exhaled. Steady.

Regrouping, you moved again, but this time, you were smarter - testing- feeling out the way he reacted. The next time he dodged, you anticipated it, twisting mid-motion and using his own momentum against him, catching his arm and yanking.

It almost worked.

The instant you felt his weight shift, you knew - he’d let you do that.

You barely had time to react before he countered, twisting with impossible grace, his body moving like an under-sea shadow. You felt it before you saw it.

His hands on you.

Turning.

Your feet ripped out from under you.

The mat met your chest with a harsh thud, your breath shooting out of your lungs in a rush.

Your wrists flexed, instinctively pushing to lift yourself up - except one of them wasn’t moving. Something heavy and warm pressed you down.

Your pulse jumped.

Loki was above you, his thighs caging your hips, one hand securing your wrist above your head. Your left side was left exposed, vulnerable. You snuck a glance at the rest of the team - on your... right - he chose to test the side they couldn't see. Why?

There were more important matters to tend to.

You struggled, but his grip was like iron, pressing your wrist into the mat, keeping your body still beneath his. The sheer weight of him was suffocating, and intoxicating, his lean muscle like warm steel.

The sound of your panting filled the space between you as you used your free hand to push against his knee, against the mat, to try and pry his hand off your wrist.

Nothing budged. Nothing. Especially not you.

So, finally, you gave up the fight, relaxing underneath him, letting your forehead fall to the mat as the others chuckled on the sidelines.

A low, satisfied, hum rumbled from his chest.

You clenched your jaw, ignoring the way the heat from his body seemed to sink into yours. “Yeah, whatever. You're a thousand-year-old god, of course you're gonna win."

Loki chuckled. And that sound - deep, smug, thoroughly entertained - was infuriating.

You scoffed, and gave a snarky chuckle, lazing your head to the side, not the slightest bit concerned. "Well, go on. Do what you need to do. All of these guys have tried, failed, and reaped the embarrassment of prodding my stomach while I stare them down. Your turn."

"My turn," he repeated in a low, heat, murmur that made your neck prickle. "They’ve all tried, have they?"

His eyes flicked toward the others - Bucky, Sam, Steve, Thor - still watching with rapt attention.

"I'm guessing they wrestled you, pinned you," Loki mused, "and I imagine they grabbed at your waist, or jammed their fingers clumsily under your arms, yes?"

Your stomach clenched at the cool, casual confidence in his voice.

His head dipped lower, lips brushing just past your ear.

"But no one's ever been gentle with you, have they?"

The implication landed hot in your stomach. With that tone, he definitely wasn't just talking about tickling.

"I don’t need gentle," you gritted out, feeling the heat creep up your neck.

Loki hummed again. And then -

A single touch.

Soft. Featherlight. Unfamiliar.

A slow, wandering drag of fingertips under the hem of your shirt, gliding over your side with aching delicacy.

An involuntary shudder rippled through you, sparkling sensation travelling up your neck, down your hip.

Your breath hitched.

Loki’s low chuckle vibrated against your back.

“Oh, my. Was that a reaction?"

You tested your wrist again, his grip didn’t budge. Iron.

“I-” You wet your lips, breathing out a nervous chuckle. Steady... “If this is tickling, why do people react to it so violently? Sam practically-”

The words died in your throat as his fingers slipped higher.

A slow, agonisingly light scratching at your ribcage.

Your body shifted before you even realised. Some strange, new sensation bloomed alive beneath your skin - an almost electric tingle, sharp and shivery, not... uncomfortable but not something you could control.

You winced, feeling your own muscles betray you, your arm instinctively trying to pull down. Your brow furrowed.

Silence from the others.

Your pulse pounded as you turned your head and met their confused stares and raised brows.

Loki’s voice dipped lower. “Tell me,” he whispered, dark and taunting, “what do you feel?”

You swallowed. Your breath was unsteady. “I don’t know, I-”

You barely got the words out before his fingers slipped higher, that damnably light touch moving quicker, scraping against your skin and nerves-

A sensation erupted.

Your body jerked.

A strangled noise caught in your throat - somewhere between a gasp and a sound you’d never made before - bubbling up.

No.

No fucking way.

Your fingers dug into the mat. Heat roared through your veins, panic flickering, because something strange was happening. Your body was reacting. Your breath hitching, catching, some kind of force simmering deep in your lungs-

“What the hell are you doing to me?” you demanded, voice breathless, confused, desperate.

Loki only laughed, dark and rich, and said, “Proving a point.”

And then he picked up the speed.

A choked, gasping giggle burst out of you before you could stop it.

Your eyes widened.

The others on the sidelines looked gobsmacked.

The sensation grew, intensified, as Loki’s fingers didn’t stop.

You twisted violently, struggling under him, but his weight was unforgiving, his grip relentless.

Your lips parted, a stream of breathless giggles slipping free.

Oh, fuck.

Your body shuddered as his fingers skimmed higher, up to the skin stretched over the centre of your ribcage-

Your head hit the mat as laughter was yanked out of you. Your legs kicked, trying to gain traction, but Loki only chuckled at your useless attempts.

“Wait- fucking- you-"

“Well,” Loki purred, so fucking pleased with himself, “Not ticklish, was it?”

The laughter ripped through your throat, unrelenting, spilling out in gasping waves as Loki’s damnable fingers continued their excruciatingly light torment. The others on the sidelines cheered in pure delight as you laughed and laughed and twisted and squirmed.

But there was no escape.

No amount of tensing, no desperate attempts to throw him off, could do anything against his sheer strength and control. His weight pressed you into the mat, keeping you exactly where he wanted, his hand moving with deadly precision - every stroke of his fingertips dragging something shivery and unbearable from your skin.

Bucky's surprised scoff cut across your struggling. "Well I'll be."

"All this time, huh?" Steve huffed a laugh through his nose.

"Oh, you are definitely getting it from me," Sam's chortling threat made you turn your head away, back to where only Loki could see your profile.

Gods, Loki.

This wasn’t the clumsy, forceful jabbing of a sparring partner trying to elicit a reaction.

This... this was deliberate. Skilled. Loki had found something new in you, and he was taking his time exploring it.

And the worst part?

The heat.

The deep, simmering pull in your stomach had nothing to do with his magic and everything to do with the way his body pinned yours, the warmth of his breath, the slow, dangerous way he was learning you.

You were done for.

“Now,” Loki called to the others, voice smooth and pleased and maddeningly composed over your breathless gasps, “what exactly should I be dishing out punishment for? As long as you all have tales of her misdeeds…”

His fingers fluttered along your ribs, light and delicate, dragging over the hyper-sensitive skin. Your body seized with a squeal, then a sharp, gasping laugh.

“…I’ll keep going.”

The traitorous bastards on the sidelines did not hesitate.

“How much time you got?” Sam called, laughing.

"She replaced the protein powder with flour," Bucky offered. "Had us all drinking sludge in our shakes for days until we realised."

Loki hummed in amusement. "Clever." His fingers never stopped - the feathery, unbearable strokes at your lower ribs making your body tremble under him.

"Last week she convinced Thor that the Alexa was not only a real person, but 'Midgard's Only Goddess.'" Sam snorted. "Had Thor trying to win her favour for hours."

Loki chuckled, shaking his head as though deeply ashamed of you. His fingers slid higher up your ribs, the change in focus so sudden it made your breath hitch violently - your body arching before you could stop it.

"Oh, that’s good," Sam laughed. "Keep her goin', we got more."

"She told the new recruits that I get my hair done at a salon called ‘Thunder Struck,’" Thor added, betrayal in his voice. "The rumours-"

"-are completely true," you gasped, still somehow defiant through the breathless laughter spilling out of you.

Loki sighed in faux fatigue. "A habitual liar, too. Unfortunate." His fingers shifted again, this time creeping into the soft space under your arm-

Your laughter folded into silence.

A sharp, breathless inhale was all you could manage, body seizing as your nerves exploded with sensation. Your free hand slammed into the mat, trying to brace yourself.

Loki noticed.

“Oh,” he purred, sounding far too satisfied. His fingers didn’t move, just rested there, as if savouring the way you tensed beneath him. “I see.”

Your eyes widened. Somehow, you knew what was coming.

“I believe,” he murmured darkly, “I’ve found the perfect place for my discipline.”

His fingers twitched.

A sharp, shuddering noise burst out of you.

Then he started moving.

Slow. Dragging.

Your body jolted before you could stop it, a sharp, helpless squirm beneath him. Your breath hitched violently in your throat, trying to hold in the laughter- you couldn’t let him win-

His fingers curled against your skin in a perfectly devastating way, grazing soft circles in the deepest, most vulnerable part of that untouched nerve space, and the laughter broke out of you in an uncontrollable rush.

Loki sighed, as if he were so terribly disappointed.

“What was it you called me last week?” he mused, tracing, scratching, slow, taunting circles over every tormenting inch. “Ah, yes - ‘horny Shakespeare?’”

You shrieked. Your trapped hand trembling into a fist, tears of mirth threatening hot behind your eyes.

The others roared with laughter.

“Or was it-” He shifted, pressing in closer, lips brushing against your burning ear, voice dripping with amusement, “-‘overgrown magician with daddy issues’?”

You shrieked again, laughter breaking apart into gasping, desperate protests.

“Oh, I rather like this one-” His fingers swirled, still unbearably light, sweeping quickly over the taut skin. “You said I ‘probably cry after sex.’”

“I TAKE IT BACK-”

Loki laughed, dark and dangerous, sitting back up as his fingers scraped gently, just enough to send fire through your nerves, to make your laughter break, to send your legs kicking uselessly against the mat.

"Ah, and my favourite," Loki continued, relentless, "-you looked me dead in the eyes, in front of the entire team, and asked me if my horns were, in fact, just overcompensation for something far more-"

He was cut off when his fingers stroked, just so, against the place just below your arm where your ribcage ended, and laughter tore through you, something wrecked in your voice, your body shaking against his.

"Oh, you didn't like that, did you?" he soothed in mock sympathy before his voice gave way to a dark, sensuous chuckle.

"Loki- PLEASE!"

You had never begged before.

But you'd never been ticklish before.

And Loki - Loki fucking knew.

His chuckle returned as his hand slowed to a stop, fingers still perched threateningly as your ragged breath expelled beneath him.

"Did you hear that, gentlemen?" Your chest heaved, body shaking from the sheer force of it all, something deeply unsettled in your bones as his palm smoothed down your side, lingering before his fingers tightened at your hip, his grip possessive. "I do believe our dear girl has finally learned some manners."

Your entire body burned.

Then, Loki pushed off, moving effortlessly to his feet as if the last five minutes hadn’t utterly destroyed you.

True to his word, he hadn't broken a sweat.

You barely managed to push yourself onto your knees, your body unsteady, your breathing still laboured.

"Wait, hold up," Sam interrupted, holding a hand towards you. "Loki, you gotta show us how to do that."

Loki stiffened. It was barely noticeable. A flicker. A shift in the air.

And then - smooth as ever, with an icy calm that sent a clear warning, "I used magic," he said, holding up a hand with fingertips glowing green. "You are not capable, and you should not try."

You looked up, saw the chilled death in his stare that bored into Sam.

Liar.

That's why he chose to test the side no one else can see; he didn't want anyone else knowing how to undo you.

And everyone knew it. The implication was clear:

Back off.

Sam held up his hands immediately. "Alright, damn. Not trying to start an intergalactic incident."

The tension in the room eased as you caught your breath, but the tension inside you only burned hotter.

Loki turned and met your gaze with something solemn in his expression, something dark and wanting... protective.

Something only for you.

And fuck, you were both done for.

.

.

[hazelira]

sleepless

The dim glow of the computer screen cast sharp shadows across Heeseung’s chiselled features. The only sound in his office was the rhythmic clicking of his keyboard—until it wasn’t.

He stopped mid-sentence, fingers frozen over the keys as a soft huff huff huff filled the room.

His jaw clenched.

He didn’t need to look up to know that the noise source was the tiny, chunky six-month-old suspended in his jolly jumper sling near the bookshelf, bouncing with an innocent determination.

Heeseung had no idea why he let you talk him into this.

You had mumbled something about needing to trying to sleep an early night, trusting him to handle him for a while—him, the man whose hands were stained with sins, whose enemies trembled at the mere mention of his name.

And now, he was, working on arms deals while a smol potato of a baby in a star-patterned onesie wobbled in midair like a marshmallow on strings.

His soft grunts and heavy breathing filled the room as he kicked his stubby legs.

Heeseung sighed, rubbing his temple. This is ridiculous.

He returned to his work, trying to tune him out, but a loud, excited gasp would break the silence every few minutes.

He glanced at him.

His chubby cheeks were flushed, and his big, glassy eyes stared at nothing in particular as he bounced slowly, his fingers curled into tiny fists.

Heeseung’s lip twitched.

He looked so stupidly cute.

But—cute.

God.

He checked the time. 1AM. He should be in bed before 3AM at the latest.

His chair scraped against the floor as he walked toward him with that same air of authority he carried in underground meetings.

The baby paused, blinking up at him.

Heeseung crossed his arms. “Are you planning on tiring yourself out, or should I do it for you?”

Silence.

Then, he let out a loud squeal and bounced harder.

Heeseung swore under his breath. He’s mocking me.

Running a hand down his face, he unhooked him from the sling and lifted him effortlessly, pressing him against his chest.

His warm, squishy body sank into him immediately, a tiny sigh leaving his lips.

“Finally,” he muttered, adjusting him in his arms. “You’re lucky you’re smol.”

He babbled something unintelligible, stuffing half of his pudgy fist into his mouth.

Heeseung only sighed, patting his back.

The things he did for you.

Heeseung sat back in his chair, his work momentarily forgotten as his son rested against his chest, his tiny body rising and falling with each soft breath.

He was still awake, though. He could tell by how his little hand occasionally twitched against his shirt and how he babbled softly, more to himself than to him.

“Go to sleep,” he murmured, adjusting him so his head rested comfortably against his shoulder.

His only response was a wet gurgle.

Heeseung exhaled sharply through his nose. He wasn’t good at this—this whole fatherhood thing. He barely even knew how to talk to him. He was so small, helpless, and unlike the ruthless world he was used to.

And yet, here he was.

Here he was.

Holding a six-month-old baby boy in the dead of night, still dressed in his black button-up and loosened tie, unfinished weapons contracts blinked on the screen behind him.

If they saw him like this, his men would never let him live this down.

He stood again, carrying him with him as he paced the room. He was getting heavier—his chunky little son—but he held him easily, his weight barely noticeable against his broad frame.

“Your mama tricked me,” he muttered, side-eyeing him.

He let out a happy, slight hum, completely oblivious.

“She said you’d fall asleep quickly if I held you,” he continued, his voice dropping to that deep, cold tone he used in meetings. “That was a lie, wasn’t it?”

The baby sighed dramatically as if exhausted by him instead.

Heeseung stared.

“…Did you just sass me?”

Silence.

Then, a tiny hiccup.

Heeseung closed his eyes for a long moment before sitting on the couch. He adjusted his grip so he was cradled more securely against him.

His thumb brushed against his soft cheek absentmindedly.

He was so warm, so fragile, and so completely and utterly his.

And he—

He was so entirely and utterly his.

He leaned back against the couch with a reluctant sigh, staring at the ceiling. “Fine. Stay up if you want. But don’t cry later when you’re overtired.”

His son only cooed in response, his tiny fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

Heeseung sighed again, closing his eyes.

Maybe—maybe—he could afford to rest for a little while, too.

A heavy silence settled over the office, broken only by the faint hum of Heeseung’s computer and the soft, steady breathing of the tiny body nestled against his chest.

His son had finally tired himself out.

His stubby fingers remained curled in the fabric of his shirt. His round cheek squished against his shoulder as he slept, his mouth slightly open.

Heeseung huffed. Finally.

But now he was stuck.

If he moved too fast, he’d wake up. If he put him down too soon, he’d definitely wake up. And if he woke up, he’d scream.

And then you would wake up.

And then he would be the one suffering.

With a quiet exhale, Heeseung leaned his head against the couch, one hand supporting his back and the other resting lightly on his thigh. He could feel his weight, warm and soft and undeniably real.

It was strange. He had spent years navigating dangerous negotiations, making life-or-death decisions without flinching. He had blood on his hands and secrets buried in the shadows.

Yet he was afraid to move because of one tiny baby.

Pathetic.

He let out a humourless chuckle, rubbing slow circles against his back. “Your mama will scold me if you’re not in bed before three.”

The baby didn’t stir.

Heeseung glanced at the clock. 1:42 AM. He had some time.

But instead of getting up, he stayed there, listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing.

His hand absentmindedly ran over his little onesie, feeling the soft fabric stretch over his round belly.

He was so chubby.

A real little potato.

And despite everything, the weight of the life he led and the coldness that had been etched into his bones, he felt something unfamiliar bloom in his chest.

Something warm. Something terrifying.

Something dangerously close to love.

Heeseung exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand down his face. “What the hell are you doing to me?”

His son smacked his lips in his sleep, utterly unbothered.

Heeseung scoffed.

“You and your mama,” he muttered, shifting slightly to make himself more comfortable. “A nightmare of a duo.”

He should get up. He should put him to bed.

But instead, he let his eyes drift shut, his warmth anchoring him in a way nothing else had.

And for once, the mafia king allowed himself to rest.

The room was eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of fabric as Heeseung shifted on the couch, careful not to jostle the sleeping baby pressed against his chest.

He should move.

He needed to move.

But every time he adjusted his grip, his son let out a tiny sigh and burrowed further into him as if he could sense his hesitation.

Heeseung clenched his jaw.

He had led entire empires with an iron fist. He had made grown men tremble with a single look.

And now, he was trapped under the weight of a chubby six-month-old.

This wasn't very comfortable.

He finally opened his eyes with a deep sigh, blinking blearily at the clock. 2:13 AM.

You were going to kill him.

Heeseung glanced down at the little bundle in his arms. He had drooled a little on his shirt; his tiny lips parted as he slept soundly, unaware of the chaos he had caused in his life.

His lips twitched.

It was infuriating how much he looked like him. The same dark lashes and sharp nose—except on him, everything was soft, round, innocent. Untouched by the world he lived in.

And he intended to keep it that way.

He stood carefully, holding him close as he approached the door. The hallway was dimly lit, and the distant sound of the heater hummed in the background as he walked toward the nursery.

He eased the door open with one hand, stepping inside. The room was quiet, filled with the faint scent of baby lotion and the warmth of soft nightlights.

Heeseung approached the crib, gazing down at its plush bedding. He knew he had to put him down, knew that letting him sleep on him all night was a bad idea—but his arms wouldn’t move.

He hesitated.

Just for a moment.

His son stirred slightly, a tiny frown appearing as if he had already sensed the impending betrayal.

Heeseung sighed.

“…Fine.”

Without another thought, he turned on his heel and left the nursery.

The main bedroom was quiet as he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

You were still asleep, curled beneath the blankets, your soft breathing filling the room. Heeseung walked toward the bed and sat down carefully without waking you.

Then, slowly, he adjusted the baby in his arms, settling him between the two of you.

He snuggled into the blanket immediately, tiny fingers twitching in his sleep.

Heeseung sighed, leaning back against the headboard.

“You win,” he muttered, staring at the ceiling. “Spoiled little thing.”

But despite his words, his hand instinctively rested on his back, keeping him close.

And for the first time that night, he felt at ease.

The bedroom was. Still, the only movement coming from the slow rise and fall of your chest beside him and the soft, occasional twitch of the baby nestled between you both.

Heeseung didn’t move for a long while, staring at the ceiling, listening to the steady rhythm of your breathing.

It was strange—this quiet, domestic life.

He had never planned for it and never imagined himself in a warm bed with a wife and a baby.

He should have felt suffocated.

Instead, he felt safe.

With a slow exhale, he finally allowed himself to relax, letting the exhaustion from the day settle deep into his bones.

But just as he was beginning to drift, a small, sleepy whimper broke the silence.

His body tensed immediately, instinct kicking in as he glanced down.

The baby scrunched his face, his tiny fingers flexing against the blanket. Another soft whimper escaped his lips, his head turning slightly as if searching for something.

Heeseung frowned.

Was he waking up?

He didn’t even have the chance to react before he let out a weak little cry—barely even a sound, just a pitiful, breathy whine.

And immediately, you stirred.

Your eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep, your brows furrowing as you registered the noise.

“Heeseung…?” Your voice was thick and groggy. You shifted slightly, blinking at seeing him sitting with the baby in his arms.

Heeseung let out a quiet breath. “Go back to sleep.”

You frowned, eyes darting between him and the baby. “Why is he in our bed?”

“He refused to sleep in the crib.”

You sighed, running a tired hand over your face. “That’s because he’s used to sleeping beside me.”

Heeseung scoffed. “So he is spoiled.”

You shot him a sleepy glare before reaching out, your hands brushing against his as you carefully took the baby from him.

He settled against you instantly, his little body moulding into yours like it was the only place he belonged.

Heeseung watched as you rubbed small circles against his back, whispering soft, reassuring words until he sighed deeply, finally drifting back into sleep.

His jaw tightened.

Why was it so easy for you?

How did you do it so effortlessly—comfort him, love him, make him feel safe?

And why, despite everything, did he want that too?

You glanced up at him, your features soft with drowsiness. “Heeseung…”

He met your gaze.

You hesitated momentarily before reaching for his hand, squeezing it lightly. “You did well.”

Heeseung stilled.

Your fingers were warm against his, delicate but firm. And just like that, the last of his tension melted away.

He exhaled quietly, his lips barely curving into something that almost resembled a smile.

Wordlessly, he lay beside you, his hand still resting against the baby’s back.

And the mafia king allowed himself to sleep for the first time in a long time.

requested by: @hecseungx

my perm taglist<3 <- request here

[thethronezone]

We all know children, especially the younger ones, can be absolutly ruthless in their comments. Sooo how would the dads react to be annihilated by their child, either by a offhand comment or because they gave them sass. And to make it even worse there were witnesses XD

When Mortarion gets back home from a long campaign, all he wants to do is see his kid, ok? But the moment he steps into their room, they scrunch up their nose and frown. "Ewww, you smell like rotten egg." Mortarion pauses, knowing that he sometimes goes nose-blind. Tries to subtly catch a whiff of his own scent. Excuses himself to go and take a bath. Feels a tad embarrassed, mostly because he saw a serf choke on her own spit when his kid made that comment.

Fulgrim and his child, a teenager at this point, gets into an intense argument. It escalates when his kid calls him a "senior citizen". Fulgrim actually finds himself at a loss for words at that, so offended that he can't help but gape uselessly like a fish. The space marines nearby share a wide-eyed look and quickly vacate the area, just in time for Fulgrim to go on a ten minute rant about how he'd not old, how rude that was, children should respect their parents and all that jazz. His kid feels satisfied knowing they won that argument.

It's one of those days when the nails in Angron's head are causing him immense pain and making him lash out at everyone around him. Sadly, this includes his kid who he ends up yelling at sometimes. His kid, used to this and completely over it, turns to the closest person, a new space marine, and goes "You'll have to excuse him, he gets cranky when he's hungry." Angron grits his teeth enough that it causes his gums to bleed but leaves before he can say, or do, something he'll regret.

One of the things Magnus enjoys doing the most is teaching his child new things. Whenever they understand something, the moment it clicks in their brain, their eyes sparkle in a way that reminds him so much of himself. Today's lesson is special, about ancient Terran history. Magnus, wanting to test his little one, decides to ask them if they have any idea how he knows all of these facts. His child thinks about it for a moment, brows furrowed in deep contemplation before they look up to meet his gaze. "Because you're very old." Magnus face twitches before he breaks out into a wide smile and chuckles. The idea that his little one thinks that he's old enough to have experienced the Terra of old... it's more charming than it is offensive.

As they get older, Perturabo gets into quite a lot of fights and arguments with his child as they grow more and more independent and stop listening to him. During one of these arguments, Perturabo calls his kid childish because they refuse to do as he say. Their reply? "I AM a child, what's your excuse?" It's only the presence of other people that keeps Perturabo from blowing up, otherwise he would have started yelling at them at full volume. Instead he bites his tongue, grits his teeth and immediately sends them to their room, telling them that they are grounded and that he will come up with a suitable punishment for mouthing off.

Alpharius and Omegon are told that their kid asked for them and so they show up in their room, only to be met by a face that looks very disappointed when they see them. The twins tilt their heads and ask if their child didn't call for them. The child huffs. "No, I did, I just meant the fun Alpharius." Turns out, none of them are the 'fun' Alpharius, that's some random Alpha Legion marine. Neither of them know how to feel about this.

Lorgar is watching with pride as his little one is making friends with some children, standing a fair distance away together with the other parents. Close enough to hear what the kids are talking about but far enough to give them a sense of space. The other children start talking about what their parents do for a living. Lorgar's child listens attentively and when it's their turn to say what he does, they puff up their chest with pride. "My father spends a lot of time on his knees". Lorgar can't help the laugh of surprise that escapes him. He awkwardly explains to the other parents, who suddenly can't look him in the eyes, that his child is talking about praying.

It happens sometimes that Horus tells his child how much they remind him of himself. One day, he says that they look a lot like he did when he was their age and that they are probably going to grow up to look like him too. His child suddenly looks very distressed. "Does that mean I'm also going to be bald some day?" they ask while staring at the top of his head. Horus throws his head back and laughs, taking no offense to the statement. He ruffles his child's hair. Not unless you shave it, little one!" Only laughs more when he sees how relieved his child looks.

So Konrad's kid is in their rebellious teenage phase and Konrad is not handling it well. They argue quite a lot and Konrad can get quite nasty when this happens. His kid, however, can get equally nasty, as made evident during one of their more intense arguments after Konrad makes a remark about them making bad life choices. "Father, with all due respect, when you were my age you used to eat rats and run around in the nude, slaughtering criminals with your bare hands. I believe I am doing quite fine in comparison." The serfs scurry out of the room, the Night Lords hold their breaths and Konrad bites his tongue so hard it bleeds. After a few seconds, he tells his kid that fine, to do whatever they want and not to come running back to him when it blows up in their face.

Sanguinius wants to show his child, who is still very young, that not all planets of the Imperium are the same, so he brings them to different worlds. One of the worlds he brings them to is an agri-world. His little one is very fascinated by the whole thing, especially the animals. Sanguinius is happy they are enjoying themself when suddenly they grab his one of his hands and point at something. "Look dad, it's you!" Sanguinius turns his head... and sees a goose hissing at them. He's got to cover his mouth with his other hand in order to stifle his laughter. The Blood Angels accompanying them has to do the same. Sanguinius is not offended, he just finds it charming.

It's one of those rare times where Corvus brings his little one with him to Terra. During this visit, his kid happens to meet Malcador for the first time. Corvus stands behind his kid as Malcador talks to them. Malcador asks his child if they like visiting Terra. Corvus' child nods. "Yeah, it's fun, I get to meet a lot of new, exciting people. Dad don't get out of the house a lot, that's why he's got no friends." Malcador laughs with such intensity that he wheezes and Corvus has to look away to hide his embarrassed expression, his pale cheeks turning a dusty pink.

It happens when Ferrus is in his workshop, where he's been for a couple of days straight, working away on a new project. He's interrupted by his child who peeks into the room and he scolds them for it. His child, rather than looking remorseful or saying sorry, looks at him in clear disappointment and goes "This is why you don't have any friends, dad" and closes the door. Ferrus just stands there, slack-jawed, wondering if he heard them right. He looks at the other people in his workshop, all who are desperately pretending to have not heard a thing. Ferrus snaps his mouth shut and goes back to work, trying to not dwell on how much truth his child's words held.

It's a calm day for Rogal and his child is sitting on his lap as he does paperwork. He talks to them while he's working, explaining just what he's doing. He feels very proud because it appears his child is listening attentively to what he has to say. Suddenly, his kid turns their head to look him in the eyes. Rogal assumes that they have a question and pauses his explanation. Instead, his kid frowns and says, with quite a disgruntled tone, "Dad, you're very boring." Rogal blinks slowly, shares a look with the Imperial Fist standing guard by the door who looks equally surprised, then looks down at his kid. He grumbles. "It might still be a bit over your head..."

One day, Vulkan is asked the question all parents are eventually asked: where do babies come from? Vulkan explains that when two people love each other, sometimes a baby grows in one of them and that person gets a really big stomach in the meantime because of this. His child stares at him for a long time. They they stare at his stomach, confused. "I'm having a sibling?" It takes a second for Vulkan to understand what his child means but then he's laughing.

Lion is lecturing his kid on the importance of honor and duty. Again. It's something they have heard countless times before and they find the whole thing tedious. Under their breath, they mutter "Rich coming from someone that used to wipe with leaves." Of course their father hears what they said and pauses in the middle of his tirade, brows furrowing and nostrils flaring with offense. The room goes quiet, the Dark Angels desperately trying to pretend they didn't hear anything. Lion punishes his kid for their disrespect by sentencing them to aid the serfs in the kitchen, peeling potatoes and stuff for a month.

Leman is very happy with the way his little one gets along with the fenrisian wolves. His kid will play with them, run with them, feed them and it makes him feel proud. One thing he does not understand however is their insistence on burying their face in the wolves still wet fur after they have been given a bath. Witnessing this behavior, he one day decides to ask them. His kid peeks up from the dripping wet fur of a wolf and smiles innocently at him. "Because it smells like you, dad!" It takes Leman a couple of seconds to realize that apparently, his kid thinks he smells like wet dog. Huh. He looks around the room, trying to catch the eyes of the serfs, but they are all staring at the ceiling, refusing to meet his gaze. Double huh.

As a man that cares about legacy and duty, Jaghatai tells his kid that when he gets really old and frail, that they will take over after him. His kid, the little rascal that they are, looks him dead in the eyes and says "Oh, so soon then?" Jaghatai has to physically stop himself from smiling, finding their quick wit very charming, and simply ruffles their hair. Tells them that it will still be a long time before that happens, don't worry child. Does, however, shoot his White Scars a quick glare when they won't stop snickering like gossiping old ladies. He's not THAT old.

Roboute has a certain preference for the garbs of his home planet, togas and tunics. Sadly, not all planets have the climate for these to be worn comfortably so Roboute has been forced to wear more standard Imperial clothing for a while now. He hadn't realized his child had only ever seen him in these kinds of clothes until one day, when he finally puts on a toga, they stare at him for a few seconds before going "Are we poor?" Poor Roboute doesn't know what to say at first. The Ultramarines in the room are not meeting his gaze, desperately looking away so not to burst out laughing. He desperately tries to explain his heritage and the quality of the cloth to his child who really does not appear to get it.

[dollerinna]

SHUT UP AND LOOK PRETTY :: B. BUTCHER

─ 𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑖𝑟𝑑 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑠 𝚑𝑜𝑤 𝑡𝑜 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝚑𝑒𝑟 𝑔𝑜𝑏 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝚑𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛’ 𝑐𝚑𝑒𝑒𝑘𝑦

𝓑illy butcher ੭୧ fem! brat reader ┇ oral m! receiving

BILLY BUTCHER was a bastard, and he wore it like a badge of honor. But you? You didn't cower under that withering glare. If anything, you met it head-on—sharp-tongued and reckless enough to dance on the edge of his patience until he snapped you back into place.

"Mm... I swear, assholes like you always have the biggest di-" The words slurred off your lips between each languid stroke, slow as honey sliding off a spoon, spiked with just enough venom to make them sting ever so sweetly.

Before the last syllable could fully form, Butcher's hand twisted into your hair with ruthless precision, the sharp tug startling a gasp as your head was wrenched backward.

"Oi- shut it," He barked, voice fraying at the edges with that gravel-pitched snarl that somehow managed to make everything sound filthier. His grip stayed merciless, anchoring you in place. "Ain't payin' you for yer backchat, love."

The faintest curve pulling at the corners of your mouth only spurred him on, his fist cinching down with a bruising authority as he dragged you closer. The swollen, darkened tip of his cock grazed against the contour of your bottom lip—hot, heavy, and unapologetically solid.

"Think you can sass me with a mouth full of cock, eh?" Butcher's eyes darkened, a harsher, more bestial gleam flickered to life within his stare, eclipsing that familiar glint. "Proper bird knows how to use her mouth without gettin' cheeky, so get back to it."

You didn't hesitate. The weight of him, already swelling between your teeth, carried a palpable heat that bled from his skin akin to smoldering coals, thickening the air to the point of where it felt ready to suffocate. As you took him in deeper, your lips stretched around the rigid girth, inch by delicious inch, until your throat tightened with the strain.

The raw, uneven rhythm of his exhale shattered the silence, strong digits threading deeper into your scalp. "Fuckin' hell...” Butcher's groan teetered on a gritted growl, his free hand bracing against the nearby wall. "That's it. Take it all, yeah?"

The hum vibrating within your vocal cords earned another guttural sound from him, the tip of your tongue tracing the buzz of a prominent vein along his shaft. His hips jerked forward in shallow thrusts, pressing further down until the head of his dick nudged the very back of your soft palate, stretching you to the brink.

He wasn't gentle. But then, you hadn't expected him to be.

"Big cock's a bloody curse," he muttered, each word fracturing under the weight of his breathing as you swallowed around him, the spasmodic clench of your muscles forcing a tremor through his stance. "But it don't mean I’m gonna start slowin’ down like some limp-dicked twat, whisperin’ sweet fuck-all in yer ear.”

His pace quickened, each thrust driving deeper as precum spread over your tongue like a rising tide of molten wax that refused to ebb—fiery and stifling, branding you from the inside out with every throb that followed. Even then, his fingers in your hair remained taut, locking you in place as if afraid to lose the burn.

"Least you've got some talent," a grunt rumbled from the well in his chest, thumb tracing a mocking semblance of tenderness along the delicate skin of your temple. "Might keep you around if you behave."

Butcher wasn't bluffing—he would keep you around. But only if you learned fast not to bite the hand that fed you. Or in this case, the cock that kept you on your knees.

[chadobi]

Hi! I saw that you were taking requests and decided to shoot my shot :D

Could I request headcanons for a 2007 Donnie and Raph (separately of course, or either one!) with an S/O that is really girly who likes to dress up in the cutest little outfits and contradicts their personality completely?

Please and thank you!

– 🍡

Hi! So I decide to write this for every guy! I hope that is not a problem 🫶🏻

Leonardo

• At first, he’s confused. You walk in wearing bows, lace, and pink gloss, and he fully expects you to be the sweet, delicate type…

• …and then you call Raph a “discount Vin Diesel” and tell Donnie to “touch grass.”

• He’s horrified the first time you sass Master Splinter under your breath—horrified and deeply intrigued.

• Once he gets used to the contrast, he secretly loves it. You’re this beautiful, soft vision in a frilly dress, and then you open your mouth and it’s pure chaos.

• He’s very protective of you in public—people assume you’re fragile because of how you look, and Leo will gladly step in… until you shut someone down harder than he ever could.

• You soften his edges in the best way. He’s all about control and discipline, and then there you are—batting your lashes and telling him to relax and “stop brooding, you’re not Batman.”

• He’ll never admit it out loud, but he’s obsessed with how confidently you own both your style and your sharp tongue.

Raphael

• He thinks it’s hilarious. You look like you just walked out of a kawaii fashion magazine… and then you threaten to key someone’s bike for looking at you weird.

• The duality? Iconic. He lives for it.

• He teases you constantly—“Nice bow, babe. Gonna kill someone with kindness or stilettos today?”

• But God help anyone who insults your style or thinks you’re weak because of it. Raph will go feral and hold your purse while you handle it yourself.

• He doesn’t fully understand the effort you put into looking cute, but he appreciates it. Especially when you wear his color.

• Honestly, he’s a sucker for the fact that you could destroy someone verbally and still look like a living doll. Power couple energy.

Donatello

• Whiplash. Pure, unfiltered whiplash. He meets you, thinks, “Ah, a soft and gentle soul,” and then you drop a sarcastic bomb on him like it’s nothing.

• He’s awkward at first—doesn’t know how to balance your sugar-sweet appearance with your cutting humor.

• But he quickly becomes fascinated. You’re unpredictable and refreshing, and he loves trying to figure you out.

• Loves how you tease him with biting wit but still bring him homemade snacks in a heart-shaped box.

• If you ever show up in his lab wearing something pastel and say something savage like “Are you done pretending to be God yet?” he might short-circuit a little.

• He’s definitely taken aback when you stand up for him with zero hesitation—you’re small and sparkly and ruthless.

• He secretly keeps a picture of you in your cutest outfit taped to his screen and labeled “Absolute Weapon.”

Michelangelo

• He’s OBSESSED. He thinks you’re the coolest person alive.

• He constantly calls you his “Barbie with a bite.”

• Mikey is all in—matching accessories? Couple outfits? Let’s go.

• He loves your energy. You’re sweet-looking, but your mouth is sharp enough to cut diamonds, and he thinks it’s hot.

• He will 100% hype you up while you roast someone in the most polite voice possible.

•“Babe just ended someone’s ego while wearing glitter lip gloss. I’m in love.”

• He gets giddy when you call him your “favorite dumbass” while kissing his cheek. He knows it’s love.

• Also? He totally brags about you. All the time. “Yeah, my girl could destroy your self-esteem and look cute doing it. Stay jealous.” le or thinks you’re weak because of it. Raph will go feral and hold your purse while you handle it yourself.

• He doesn’t fully understand the effort you put into looking cute, but he appreciates it. Especially when you wear his color.

• Honestly, he’s a sucker for the fact that you could destroy someone verbally and still look like a living doll. Power couple energy.

[justmeinadaze]

November Rain Part 3 (Eddie X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: A treat for your weekend because I love you. No cliffhanger <3

Enjoy!

Warning: Warnings: Older (Early to Mid 30s) Dominate Boxer (Friend's Dad) Eddie X Plus Size Fem younger (early to mid 20s) sub Y/N, SMUT, Daddy Kink, spanking, dirty talk, light degrading, aftercare, etc.

ANGST, Big thing here is Jealous Eddie, we meet Y/N's ex, they all have dinner together and Y/N and her ex are not on the same page when it comes to their relationship. Paige's mom (Eddie's ex) experiences a break in so that's briefly mentioned, Eddie knocks someone out and breaks their nose (briefly mentioned), no cliff hanger I promise, we finally find out about why Eddie and his ex broke up, readers ex negatively mentions the reader weight (can't properly 'daddy' insinuating because she's heavy he can't toss her around (idiot)). It's real brief. Y/N does mention being a little insecure when it comes to her size and men.

Word Count: 6073

Donate to Me/ Previous Parts Here

“Hey, you’re Paige, right? Nice to meet you.”, your ex grinned as he reached out to shake your friend’s hand. 

When your roommate came home and told you Eddie had suggested you all come see him fight, there was absolutely nothing more you wanted to avoid but you had no excuse besides the one no one was allowed to know. Gritting your teeth, you dressed up in the sexist dress you could find hoping it would boost your confidence as you four walked into the arena. 

“Yeah, nice to meet you, Brad. I’ve heard all about you.”, she replies with distain as she avoids his palm. “This is my boyfriend Eli.”

Both men shake hands as Paige leads you to the seats written on your tickets. 

“My dad put us upfront. This is my first time seeing him fight so…”

“That’s cool your dad is a fighter. I can’t wait to see how good he is.”, Brad smiles as he continues to try and make pleasantries that your friend brushes off. 

“Be nice.”, you whisper as you poke her side. 

“I’m trying but all I know is he hurt you so I already hate him. He’s got a long way to go.”

You laugh as you lean on her shoulder and she hugs you to her side as the lights fall. The announcer does the usual introduction of stats before each boxer enters into the ring. Compared to the first fight you witnessed; Eddie seemed a lot more on edge. 

His jaw was tight as he angrily banged his gloves together and his gorgeous normally soft eyes were full of fire as he scanned the arena around him. When he found Paige, he blinked, beaming her way as he nodded his head and she smiled back with a little wave. 

When his irises found you, they illuminated again as he slowly took you in and the man sitting beside you. 

When the fight began, he was ruthless. With every swing there was a force behind it and after each bell the ref would have to push each man apart before directing them to their corners. 

“Jesus, this guy is insane.”, Brad breathed in amazement as he leaned back and nonchalantly wrapped his arms around your shoulders. 

When Eddie glanced your way, your heart broke as he furiously looked away and bounced to his feet to begin the new round. After the bell rang, he wasted no time and you jumped at the loud sound of bones cracking as his glove connected with the other man’s jaw. 

Cheers erupted as he was announced the winner and his arm was raised in the air. Even Paige couldn’t contain her excitement as she giddily clapped for her father. As he heavily inhaled and exhaled, your eyes locked before he gathered some saliva and spit in your direction onto the mat in front of him. 

***

“I, um, I’m going to use the bathroom really quick.”

“Do you want me to walk you—”

“No, Brad, I’m a big girl. I can take myself to the bathroom.”, you sass as you turn and head in that direction. 

Making sure no one was looking, you detoured down the hall where the boxer’s locker rooms were being held and apprehensively knocked on the door marked “Munson.”

 “Yeah, what?!”

As you slowly open it, you’re met with his sweaty back from his spot on the doctor’s table within as he begins unwrapping his hands. 

“You did well out there tonight.”

At the sound of your voice, Eddie’s head shoots up, eyes meeting yours as you come around to face him. 

“My daughter with you?”, he grumbles. 

“She’s by the front door of the building with Eli and Brad.”

He chuckles as a sarcastic smile paints his lips.

“Of course his name is fucking Brad.”, he retorts as he finishes pulling off his wrap and aggressively tosses it aside. 

“You can’t be mad, Eddie.”

“Excuse me? Why the fuck can’t I be angry that you’re leaving me without so much as a fucking explanation?”, he growls as he starts to stalk your way. 

“How can I ‘leave you’? We aren’t in a relationship.”, you sass back, gradually taking steps backwards. 

“I should have known, right? That’s all we really were to each other, a fucking rebound. Cause I can obviously see you didn’t give a damn about me.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t you dare pin this on me! What were we going to do, Eddie? Just hide our relationship forever?”

“No, no.”, he tuts as your back hits a wall and he places himself directly in front of you, boxing you in with his large frame. “We weren’t in a relationship, remember? Nothing to hide. And it’s Mr. Munson now. Better get fucking used to that since you’re nothing to me now.”

He was being mean on purpose and you knew why. You hadn’t reached out to him in a week and then he finds out suddenly that you’ve been speaking with your ex. He had every right to be angry…he really did…

That didn’t change the fact that his words were cutting into you like a knife. 

“I never meant to hurt you… Mr. Munson.”

Eddie’s eyes search yours and he prays you can’t see how hurt he genuinely was. 

“Yet you did. If I had known you didn’t care about me or my feelings I wouldn’t have engaged. I’ve got enough on my fucking plate.”

“I do care… I just… Fuck, it doesn’t matter now.”

“Yeah…”, he sighs as he backs away. “Tell Paige I’ll meet you guys at the restaurant. Now get the fuck away from me.”

*** 

You knew he’d be bringing a date to dinner. 

Paige said he would be but what you didn’t expect was how beautiful this woman would actually be. Add in the fact that she was close to Eddie’s age which made you incredibly self-conscious as you folded into your ex’s side. 

“Hey guys, this is Tina. Tina, this my daughter Paige and her boyfriend Eli.”, he introduces and the woman beams as she nods their way. “And this is her roommate Y/N and her boyfriend…”

“FRIEND…Brad.”, you correct as you awkwardly smile and the man beside you glances your way before standing to shake their hands. 

“Nice to meet you. Mr. Munson, sir, that fight was amazing.”

“Oh yeah? You like boxing?”

“I do enjoy it but I could never kick ass like you just did.”, he laughs as he sits back down and places his arm around the back of your chair. 

Eddie does the same to his date and as the night goes on you notice he gets slowly more intimate with the woman at his side; whispering in her ear, making her laugh, and gently running his fingers through her hair. 

Is this what a normal date with him would have been like?

Jealousy pierces your heart but you know you’ll have to get used to it. You couldn’t be together, right? 

Pushing your chair back a bit forcefully, you powerwalked to the restroom and silently cried in the stall. 

“Y/N?”, Paige called as you hastily wiped your eyes. “Honey, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m…I’m ok.” You tried to sound confident but your voice waivered as you opened the stall door and headed to the sink to wash your hands. 

“You miss him, don’t you? Your boxer guy.”

“Yeah but…it was complicated. We…we could never make it work.”

“Okaaaay… but that doesn’t mean you need to let this asshole back into your life.”

“Paige!”, you giggle. “Be nice. I…He deserves a second chance. We were together for so long and loved each other… but we’re taking it slow…”

“Does he know that? He seemed upset when you corrected my dad with his date.” At the mention of his date, you rolled your eyes and your friend laughed. “I know but she seems nice enough.”

“Have you met her before?”

“Uh no. He’s talked about her before in passing but…”

“But what?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t talk about her the way he did the other girl he was seeing. The one that constantly left hickies that he tried to hide.” Paige continues to laugh as you both cringe. “I’m not sure what happened there but yeah.”

Pulling her in for a hug, she smiles as she pulls back, cups your cheeks in her palms, and kisses your forehead. You exit the bathroom hand in hand before the bulky frame of your ex gives you both pause. 

“I’ll, um, meet you at the table.”

Nodding you let her go and Brad waits a few seconds before finally speaking. 

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m ok. It’s just been a long night and I’m exhausted.”

His hazel eyes flick across your face as he takes you in and his fingers reach out to caress you. 

“Do, um, do you want Daddy to take care of you tonight?”

You tried to control it but there was nothing you could do to stop Eddie’s face from appearing in your mind at the title. It had become so accustomed and he was genuinely so good at taking care of you in that headspace that the idea of calling anyone else that felt wrong.

The door behind him abruptly banged open and you were met with the metalhead’s angry eyes again as he dried his hands before tossing the napkin in the wastebin. Ignore you two, he mumbled a small “Excuse me” and roughly shoved Brad out of the way as he headed back to the table.

Ignoring his initial question, you did the same. 

The rest of the night wore on with you praying it would end soon so you could forget all of this and go to bed but you weren’t that lucky. Paige’s phone rang and you watched as her face changed as she muttered small uh huhs.

“I’m sorry. We, uh, we need to go. Mom said the house was broken into and she just called sobbing—”

“What?”, Eddie asked with concern, immediately rising to his feet and throwing money on the table. “I can give you a ride and—”

“Y/N, will you…”

“Yeah, baby, of course.” As you started to walk away so you two could leave your ex grabbed your wrist and you noticed Eddie’s chocolate eyes shift in that direction at the action. “I’ll call you when I get home.”

“I should go with you. As your boyfriend—”

“You are not my boyfriend.”, you growled as you leaned in so hopefully only he would hear. “Just because we’ve been hanging out and I brought you along doesn’t mean we’re suddenly back together. You fucking hurt me, remember? Now, let me go.”

“Son, she said let her go. I highly recommend you do that.”

At Eddie’s words, a warmth flowed through you, thankful he was still willing to protect you.

“We will talk later.”

“Noted.”, you sass as you pull your arm from his grasp.

***

“They…they took the fucking TV and…broke the window…”, Paige’s mom sobbed to the police as you guys entered her home. 

“Jesus.”, Eddie exhaled as he took in the damage. The whole house was trashed with all her belongings tossed every which way. The front lock had been picked at but due to the deadbolt they decided to climb through the window instead. “Ava, are you ok?”

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she continued to cry as he tenderly petted her head.

“Everything’s ok. You’re safe now. No one’s going to hurt you.”

As he mumbled his comforts, his eyes met yours and you hastily shifted your gaze before following after your friend up the stairs to her former bedroom. 

“They took the tv in here and some of my jewelry.”, she sighed. “Fucking assholes.”

“I’m sorry, Paige.”

You listened as heavy boots bounded up the stairs and detoured into a different room. Following the sound, you two found Eddie sifting through some dressers.

“They took the watch my uncle gave me. Goddamn it.”, he grumbled as he tossed some things a bit forcefully back in their places. 

“I’m going to go tell the police what’s missing.”, she relays as she exits the room. 

This was your first time being in this area of the house and you couldn’t help but imagine what Eddie’s life was like when he was living here with Ava and Paige. You pictured a younger version of him happily holding her and kissing her good morning. A toddler with his curls running in to shake him awake so they could watch Saturday morning cartoons. Eddie laughing and content with a life he deserves. 

“You shouldn’t let him grab you like that.”

“Huh?”, you ask, his voice shaking you from your fog.

“Brad, your boyfriend or Daddy or whatever.”

“He’s not my Daddy.”

“Hm, seemed pretty comfortable with the title. You shouldn’t let him grab you the way he did.”

“I didn’t let him and do you really want to talk about this now? With your wife downstairs?”

“Ex wife.”, he sighs, placing his hands on his hips. “Plus, the only man that matters in her life is here so…I’m no longer needed. Story of my life.”

“I DO need you, Eddie. That’s the problem!”, you hiss as you take a step toward him. “I need to feel you hold me at night and to see your face when I wake up in the morning. I need to kiss you whenever I please and cling to you when I’ve had a bad day. I need to cheer you on during your matches and dance with me during my office Christmas parties.”, you laugh breathily as you try to control your emotions.  “I need to know that if our apartment got broken into, you’d comfort me the same way you just comforted her. But we can’t…we can’t so we might as well stop fucking pretending.”

########################

“Alright, Ed. I got a new kid training here. Would you mind showing him some moves and sparing a bit?”, Eddie’s coach asked, giving the man pause as he lowers his arms from the bag he was punching.

“Yeah sure, no problem.”

“Wonderful! Brad this is Eddie Munson. Eddie this is Brad.”

When your ex stepped forward with a big grin and extended his hand, it took all of the metalhead’s energy not to sock him then and there. 

“Oh yeah, you’re Y/N’s friend.”

“Boyfriend. Yeah, when I saw you up there kicking ass I thought ‘Man, that’s amazing. I need to look into boxing myself.’”, he laughs obnoxiously as Eddie tries to hide his contempt, jumping into the ring. 

After quickly showing him some maneuvers, he allows the boy to lightly swing against his gloves as he holds up his fists. 

“So, how did everything go with your wife and her house?”

‘Ex wife. She’s, uh, she’s ok. A lot of stuff was taken and they don’t think we’ll be seeing it again.”

“Ex wife, huh. I thought Tina was your wife so I was kind of surprised when Paige said her mom’s house was broken into. Must have been kind of weird to bring a date to dinner with us being there to. Should have probably been a family thing.”

“Well, I mean, Paige and Y/N really care about each other. My daughter took her in a few months ago when she had nowhere to go.”

Brad laughed as he took a swing, punching Eddie’s glove a bit too hard and causing the man to wince. 

“She had somewhere to go but she chose to leave. We had a nice little apartment before our breakup. I told her we should talk it out but—”

As your ex swung, the boxer dodged and firmly pushed his fist aside. 

“But what? What happened that made her leave?”

“Nothing, dude. As I’m sure you noticed she can be a real pain in the ass. I got tired of it.”

“How so?”, Eddie asks as the man swings again and misses. 

“Verbally, I can be a dick sometimes. We…were fighting about some girl I hung out with and she accused me of cheating. I told her if I had I deserved it.”

“Deserved what?”, the man growls trying to hide the anger in his tone. 

“To be with a woman I can actually lift and toss around the room. Baby girl likes it rough but it’s hard to be Daddy when I can’t fully get into it ya know—”

Blocking the light shot Brad took, Eddie reared his arm back and hit him square in the nose, satisfied at the sound of his body slumping to the mat. 

***

“EDWARD MUNSON, I KNOW YOU’RE THERE! OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR!”, you bellowed as your fists banged on his door. 

As soon as it was even a crack open, you flew in like a bat out of hell, pointing your index finger at him as you continued to shout. 

“Have you lost your fucking mind?! How dare you punch Brad like that! You’ve been doing this for 10 years! You could have killed him!”

“And he’d deserve it.”, he replied nonchalantly as he leaned his back against the now closed front door behind him. 

“You had no right to do that!”

“Maybe but I don’t regret it.”

Grunting in frustration, you stomped towards him and pushed at his chest. 

“Fuck you! First you invite us to dinner and your match and then you knock him out?! Just leave me the fuck alone!”

Swiftly catching your arm, he pushes you away from him, gaining the upper hand as he moves forward to glare down at you.

“YOU disappeared on me with no warning. I deserved an explanation! Which is why I invited you and that fucking douchebag to dinner with Paige. HE showed up at the gym all on his own. I didn’t fucking invite him nor did I ever want to have anything to do with him! I heard him call himself Daddy and you didn’t correct him. Made me sick to my fucking stomach.”

While he spoke, you continued to try and hit or push his chest but he remained steadfast as he used his broad features to walk you backward. 

“I still played fucking nice and taught him some things but your idiot likes to talk. He disrespected you so I fucking hit him.”

“I don’t need you to defend me! I can take care of myself, Eddie Munson!”

“HEY!”, he shouted, startling you as you froze in place. The boxer however didn’t stop his motion continuing to push you back causing you to stumble a bit over your feet. “What did I tell you, little girl? I’m Mr. Munson now.” As your back hits the wall, his fingers pinch your cheeks forcing you to face him. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Fuck…you…” His chocolate brown eyes burned into yours as if daring you to push. You were angry and hurting and as you glared back you could tell he was to so you tapped into a side of yourself you hadn’t in a while. “Eddie.”

The speed at which his palm grabbed your throat was dizzying as he tugged you with ease and pushed your front half over the back of his couch. 

“You want to be fucking sassy and talk back, little girl. That’s fine. I’ll show you what happens to bad girls who don’t listen.”

Keeping his hand firmly against the back of your neck, he effortlessly yanked down your sweats and spanked your behind a couple of times in quick succession. 

“Maybe you two belong together since you’re so disrespectful to.” Pulling down your panties, his palm smacked your flesh hard and you couldn’t do anything to contain the low moan that left your lips. “You play with the grownups, sweetheart, this is what happens. Brad learned that the hard way.”

A dark chuckle you had never heard from him before followed another few hard spanks to your behind.

“God, look at you, Y/N. Did your Daddy ever make you this wet when he spanked you?”

“N-Not…not my Daddy…”

“Why didn’t you correct him then huh? You had no problem cutting him off he said he was your boyfriend which by the way he still thinks he is.”, Eddie replied in a calm but loaded with sass tone. 

“Doesn’t matter! You’re…you’re not mine…”

He spanks you again much harder before leaning over you till his lips were hovering over your ear. 

“It does matter because I fucking asked. Why didn’t you correct him?”

“What’s the fucking point!?”, you shout as you crane your neck to look his way. “All you men think whatever the fuck you want anyway! So fucking selfish!”

“I’m selfish?!”, he growls through gritted teeth as he hits you again before pressing two of his fingers into your dripping hole. “Who disappeared? Who refused to answer my calls? Who left me out here fucking wondering while you were spending time with her ex! Who let him touch her during my fight knowing I’d see? Who referred to him as Daddy when she was calling another man that not even a couple of weeks ago?!”

Your eyes fluttered as his pace quickened and you struggled to catch your breath. As you teetered over the edge though, he promptly pulled away and spanked you again. 

“No! No, please—”

“Oh, please now, huh, little girl? When you were so fucking sassy before.”

Falling to his knees, he hit your flesh again before his hand kneaded your plump behind exposing your pussy to him as his tongue licked a stripe between your folds. 

“I…I…I was…lonely…he was there.”

“Was he now? I was there to.”

Eddie’s tongue always had you coming undone like no man before him ever could. You desperately wanted to run your fingers through his hair but you felt like if you did, he’d push you away. 

“No…you weren’t. I m-m-meant what I said. I—fuck—I need you, Eddie.” You gasped as he hit your ass again and rose to his feet to thrust his fingers inside of you, bringing you to the edge before taking it all way.  “PLEASE!”

“Who am I?!”

“Daddy!”

“Not anymore, little girl.”

You backed your body into his, shoving him away as you ran towards his bedroom. He caught up with you quickly, tackling you onto his bed as you both wrestled against each other. 

“What do you care?! You still have your wife!”

Eddie’s jaw clenched as he took off his shirt and easily pushed your wrists together to bind them with the fabric above your head.

“I’m fucking tired of correcting people. Ava is my ex. Ex, ex, EX WIFE! We are getting a fucking divorce! Like you she chose another man over me!!”

Your eyes widened as you looked up him as the realization of what he was saying washed over you. 

“You know how that feels don’t you, little girl? Brad told me about you being upset he was spending so much time with some other woman. Practically boasted about how he deserved it. Do you know why he felt that way?”

Your eyes closed as turned your head but he was quick to grab your cheeks and forced you to look at him.  

“Yeah…motherfucker told me out right so I knocked that asshole out. I’m not like him, Y/N. I’m a real man who has no problem with your size. Never even really noticed if I’m being honest.”

With ease, he lifts you up and turns you onto your tummy before laying his entire body over yours. Keeping a firm hand on the back of your neck, he sloppily pulls down the shorts he was wearing and you listen as he spits into his hand followed by the schlick sound of him stroking his cock. 

Eddie’s knee forces your legs open a bit more and you both groan when you feel him gradually guide himself inside you. 

“Jesus, this pussy is too good.”, he grunts as he sets a vigorous pace that overwhelms you, in a good or bad way, you aren’t sure. 

“Mr. Munson…I…Daddy… please.”

He hears it immediately, the strain in your voice. His broken heart tells him to ignore it. You hurt him so it’s only fair that you hurt to and you hadn’t said the safe word so why stop. But his care for you in general and his upbringing wins the internal battle in mind as he stops moving and reaches up to move your hair away from your face. 

“Are you ok, sweetheart? Talk to me, baby.” Your words from your first night together echo in his head and as carefully as he can, Eddie pulls out and lays beside you, turning you on to your side facing him as he reaches up to remove his shirt tied around you. “Was Daddy too rough?”

At his words, you wrap your arms around him and cling to him, tangling your fingers in his hair as you cry. 

“T-That morning after you spent the night, I woke u-up alone a-a-and it killed me. I’m so sorry. I should h-have talked to you but I thought maybe if I made the move first, y-you’d be ok. I didn’t mean to hurt you—”

“Shhh… it’s ok, baby. Everything’s ok. I understand why you would feel that way but you’re right. You should have talked to me.”

“He’s not Daddy, I swear. He-he called himself that and when he said it I saw your face in my head. I-I was going to correct him but you came out and you l-looked so heartbroken.”

“Yeah…I didn’t think hearing that would hit me as hard as it did…”

When you lift your leg over his hip, his heavy sigh fans your face as his cock grazes your warm, pussy lips. The palm he had resting on your lower back pushed you closer to him before reaching between your bodies to guide himself into you again. 

“What hurt even more was watching him—mmph fuck—grab you the way he did. I wanted to f-fucking kill him.”

With your forehead resting on his, your hands clung to his head just below his ears as you watched his face scrunch in a mixture of anger and pleasure. 

“Y-You almost did.”, you pant as a little giggle emits from your mouth and his eyes meet yours. “That’s what h-he says. You broke his nose.”

A rough hand holds the underside of your thigh as your cheek rests on his other arm. As he surges forward to kiss you, you relish in the taste as you hold him tightly and he grunts in ecstasy at your body against his once more. 

“Y-You deserve better than that prick.”

“I deserve you. Fuck—Mister…Mister—”

“Daddy, baby. I’m your fucking Daddy.”, Eddie growls through clenched teeth as he interlocks his limbs behind your back and hugs you tighter to him as he thrusts into you. 

“You’re…my… Da-Daddy. Shit, M’gonna cum.”

“That’s fucking right, little girl. I’m going to make sure you don’t forget. I’m gonna fill this pussy up and you’re going to be feeling me for days. Now you and that fucker will be sore because of me… Goddamn it.”

You whimpered into his shoulder as the coil snapped and you came hard, your body trembling against him as he continued to cling to you. After a few seconds and a couple more rough pumps you felt his release spill deep inside you, warming your insides in the best possible way. 

You both held onto each other, unwilling to let the other go until he felt you lightly peck the base of your neck and released you from his hold as he sat up. 

As he was about to fully stand to find a rag to clean you with, you grasped his shoulder, silently asking him to stay. 

“About five years ago, I started gaining some real traction at being a boxer. People were starting to notice including legitimate managers and agents who wanted me to fight their boxers. One of my first fights, I won over two grand. Two grand, Y/N.”, he smiles your way as you scoot closer to him and place your hand on his back. “I put that away for Paige, you know. I was finally able to really contribute to her college fund we had started. And, sweetheart, you should have seen her when she would watch me train. Her little eyes would light up and she would mimic my swings…”

When his voice broke at the memory, you tenderly kissed his skin but he quickly got to his feet and took your hand, guiding you to his bathroom where he placed you in front of the mirror. You watched in the reflection as his eyes scanned you over before reaching for a rag, dampening it with water, and took a seat on the edge of the tub, maneuvering you between his legs. 

You winced slightly as he ran the material over your behind and between your own legs. 

“Do you need ice or anything?”

“No, Daddy.”, you whisper and he curtly nods as he tosses the towel behind him. 

“I was working a lot and then training at night. I would take fights on the weekend and make sure it didn’t interfere with any holidays or big events. I’m not quite sure when Ava started changing. I think it was after Paige graduated… I cut back my hours at the shop and focused more on boxing. She kept insisting it was a mid-life crisis or some bullshit. That I needed to give it up and focus on getting my life together…

We fought a lot… said so many mean things to each other… One day things got really intense and she kept pushing me to hit her. I told her that I’m not my father and she said I may as well be with how I was taking care of my family.” 

Eddie growled as he shook his head, taking your palm and sitting you down on the bed. He disappeared down his hallway and returned with a bundle of clothes in his hands. 

“A little over a year and a half ago, I came home and caught her…fucking that asshole Dominic. I kicked him out and told her to end it. She said she’d stop seeing him if I stopped boxing…so I left. I tried, Y/N. We went to counseling, I took her on dates like we used to, I even did put boxing on the back burner…lost a big sponsorship deal…but she still kept seeing him. I filed for divorce a few months later.”

As he glances down towards the fabric in his hands, you realize he’s grasping your own clothes. Holding the elastic band of your sweats open, he waits for you to stick your feet in but you don’t move. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me that, Eddie?”

The long-haired boy taps your calf, signaling for you to put your legs in again but you pull them together and cross your legs as you wait for his answer. 

“Paige doesn’t know and I’d rather it stay that way.”

“So it’s ok for you to get hurt?”

“My daughter has a close relationship with her mother and I’m not going to ruin that by telling her things she doesn’t need to know anyway. Put your legs in your fucking pants, Y/N.”

“No. Did you think I would immediately run and tell her? That’s not my place, Edward.”, you sneer before his eyes lock with yours.

“Don’t fucking call me that. Ava does it when she’s being petty because she knows my dad always called me Edward. Don’t do that.”

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just… I don’t understand why you wouldn’t tell me all this.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about your douchebag?”

“That we were talking again or that we broke up because he was flirting with other women and made a demeaning crack about my size?”

“Let’s just say both for the moment.”

Eddie rolls his eyes as you reach for his shirt near the other side of the bed and pull it over your head.

“I wasn’t actively searching to speak to him. He texted me the other week and said he wanted to talk. I thought…since I couldn’t have you…maybe I could see what Brad wanted. See if he changed at all…”, you sighed. “Before that, I had been spending girl’s nights alone with Paige crying over ‘boxer guy’. That’s what she calls—”

“I know. She told me. She also told me that you had been hurting… It had been a while since I felt helpless like that. Paige told me you were crying and in pain yet you wouldn’t answer my messages…”

“When it comes to our past, I don’t know, I just never had a reason to tell you I guess.”, you shrug.

Standing to his full height, Eddie tossed your things on the floor and pointed towards his bedroom door. 

“If you’re going to lie to me, you may as well leave.”

It was your turn to glare his way but he matched your determined energy. 

“I got self-conscious, alright?”, you sass. “While I am fairly confident and don’t give a damn what people think of me…when it comes to men…sometimes…I get insecure. Plus, believe it or not, when he said that, it was the first time negatively mentioning my body. It threw me off guard and genuinely hurt me. Kind of felt like how I imagine it did when you socked him.”

After taking a seat beside you, it took him a moment before he circled his arm around your shoulders and pulled you to his side. 

“Were you really mad at me for hitting him?”

“No.”, you giggle making him smile as he laughs through his nose. “Do you hate me now?”

“No.”, Eddie murmurs, shaking his head. “I wasn’t too rough or mean or anything right? It was a lot of emotion built up and… I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N, in any way, shape, or form.”

“No, you weren’t too rough or mean. I don’t want to hurt you either. I meant what I said though. I need you, Eddie. We can’t hide forever… I mean…if you want me back. I-I-I understand if you don’t—”

Strong fingers grip your chin as the boxer turns your head so his lips can connect with yours. 

“I like you a lot, sweetheart. I’ve never had feelings for anyone the way I do you but I need you to understand that these next few months are going to be rough. Ava and I have a hearing to finalize some things with our divorce, I have a couple of big fights coming up, and Paige is graduating soon. I don’t want to overshadow her.”

“I understand. I have some things happening to with my job and then next month my mom is coming down to meet Paige as well as help me look for an apartment.”

“You don’t want to live with Paige anymore?”

“It’s not that. I just… I was thinking…if I had my own place, you could sleep over and I can do things like make you dinner or take care of you after a fight…”

“How about we stick to our original plan? Take things slow and go from there. I promise, Y/N, you’re my girl if you want to be.”

Eddie grins as you laugh, his eyes absorbing the sight as you practically glow with giddiness. 

“You’re girl? You said that like some black and white sitcom from the 60s. I didn’t realize you were that old.”

“Wow, rude.”, he teases as he cups your cheek and pushes you back against his bed. 

“Tina’s not your girl?”

“No, baby, Tina’s not my girl. She’s a friend I met a few years ago. I told her I needed a date and she obliged but other than that… What, um, what are you going to tell your douchebag?”

You giggle at his term and lean up to quickly peck his lips before answering. 

“The truth. That we are not together and after the last few days I think we should just continue staying away from each other.”

“Do you want me there? You’re not afraid of him or anything right?”

“No, Daddy, but thank you for offering to keep me safe.”

##################

@dashingdeb16 @myherometalhead @micheledawn1975 @hardladyheart @chelebelletx @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @paleidiot @alphabetically-deranged @sophiejayne-illustrations713 @yesimabratandwhataboutot @idkwhattoputhere08 @gryffindorqueensworld @mewchiili @veemoon @heavenlyhorrors @twirls827 @jamiecb66 @chelebelletx @longpondlibrary @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @hellv1ra @utterlyinsanity @eddiesclub @wiinterwiidow @stylesxmunson

[angelcakezz]

one thing I don’t like is when people portray the cookies of darkness manly dark enchantress as pure evil and what usually goes with of the ancients and ginger gang being pure good. like no they are both very grey. Yes it’s pretty bad that dark enchantress wants to destroy the world in order to rebuild it but she also wants what’s best for all of desert kind and she feels genuine remorse about what she does. Yes it is right that the ancients want to keep the people in there kingdom alive but it is also very wrong of them to treat mixed cookies with less respect it’s even implied they discriminate against cookies made with margin and pretty heavily implied that they also discriminate against other desserts.

IMO the fact so many of these characters are oddly grey and have questionable morales and actions is what makes them so much more genuine.

Dark enchantress isn’t exactly a good person but there are still motives and actions that give her a sense of humanity. What she does is legitimately done under the belief things will be better under her control. Plus she’s shown kindness to her followers (albeit this kindness can be faux.) so there must be something in there that’s still good. But it’s pushed deep down.

The ancients aren’t considered bad people but they’ve all done things that can be frowned upon or even considered two faced for. White Lily’s consistent “abandon” for her friends to follow the truth. Dark Cacaos relationship with his son and how he treats him. HollyBerry abandoning her kingdom and leaving her son to run it. Pure Vanilla using children (oventrio) as a form of weaponry. The cookie with the least questionable actions is Golden Cheese, and even then she’s viewed as a greedy and careless cookie by most.

The ginger gang is possibly the only collective we could maybe call pure good but even then the pure good sentiment wouldn’t apply to every cookie in the group individually! Chili Peppers literally a famous wanted criminal who’s been described as “brutal and ruthless”, Wizards constant sass obviously plays off as constant negativity. Gingerbrave has a lot of instances where he’s dishonest. Arguably Custard and Strawberry are the only ones we could call pure good. (Even then custards just a little guy! I couldn’t call any of his actions evil because he’s probably too young to fully understand them. Strawberry’s only there because I couldn’t think of a legitimate evil/bad thing she’s done)

The fact they ARE grey is something that should be looked into more. What if someone confronts them about not being a clean slate of good or evil? Would they even care to explain? Would they feel like they have too??

[luna-loveboop]

Sky: yeah? Your point is?

Sky: Am I late?

🌹

“You,” Dark Link snarled when he caught sight of Sky. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

[goodolddumbbanana]

Has anyone noticed Molten has become so much sassier these episodes recently?

Boy doesn't hesitate to fight 'Taurus' of all people, and these sass, boy really hang out too much with Jack.

I love that they didn't forget that Motlen was actually a ruthless killing machine, that every time his first reaction is to fight. And sometimes, to kill.

From all Moltens, he is the cutest 🥺🥺

[ryin-silverfish]

Heart and Mind: An Analysis of Tripitaka

I've been wanting to write this since…since I came across some good ol' Tripitaka discourse in the LMK fandom ages ago. Couldn't remember the specifics, but as y'all probably know, it falls under the "Is him an abusive master" and people's strongly worded retort to that question.

On one hand, I dislike the "abusive" take because so often, it is an excuse to reduce a character to an 2D caricature for cheap angst purposes, and both JTTW and its historical context deserve more nuances than that.

On the other hand, I don't agree with some of the defenses either——that Tripitaka is Kind and Wise and The Virtuous Monk, Actually, and people who said otherwise just had their views colored by adaptations, or were ignorant westerners misreading the book.

Because trust me, Chinese readers absolutely have gripes with Tripitaka too, and sass him mercilessly.

We may have a better idea of the historical context, namely, the common usage and acceptance of corporal punishments, but quite a few of us don't think he's a good Buddhist either.

Instead, I'd like to focus on his allegorical role, and how it ultimately forms the basis for my interpretation of his character.

It is commonly acknowledged that each pilgrim represent an aspect of the enlightenment seeker: Monkey is the Mind, Dragon Horse the Will, Pigsy the Desire, Sandy the Determination/Ideation.

Tripitaka is either the enlightenment seeker as a human, or the Heart, the Compassion.

But how can someone represent Compassion when his behaviors don't look all that compassionate, when he seems to care more about what a good Buddhist looks like on paper than in spirit?

How can a compassionate man punish his disciple with a migraine spell and disown him twice, be okay with some violence but not others?

Well, to answer that question, I feel like you have to look at Tripitaka in conjunction with SWK, and what the monkey represents. He is literally the Mind Monkey, the boundless potential of human intellect, and that, by itself, is neutral.

In the word of one of the best poems in JTTW:

"He could be good; he could be bad; present good and evil he could do at will. He'd be an immortal, a Buddha, if he's good; wickedness would cloak him with hair and horn."

To put it simply, SWK is one's wits, one's problem-solving skills, the ability to discern good and evil on a cognitive level.

Whenever Tripitaka, the Compassion, is deceived, it falls to the Mind to see the opponents as they are, and take action to protect the human from harm.

But just as blind compassion without judgement can be exploited by evil, the reverse is true for a mind without compassion, driven solely by their own ambition and whims and practical knowledge.

The Mind knows that robbery is a crime, so these robbers deserve death, but has no idea how disturbing it is for a regular guy to witness six people being brutally murdered in front of him.

The Mind knows that abandoning your wife and family to become a bandit is shameful and unfilial, but cannot comprehend why the bandit's father may not want his son killed for these offenses.

The Mind knows right and wrong, but has trouble seeing the human behind those acts, and why one should care in the first place.

And to see what the Mind looks like without any of Compassion's restraint, one needs to look no further than SWK's "Second Mind", the Six-eared Macaque.

Just like how "Heart" sounds like a lame power for a character, Compassion isn't flashy, nor as useful in a strictly ultilitarian sense. In fact, having compassion makes you vulnerable. It hurts. And unscrupulous people will absolutely use it against you.

So why hold onto your weakness and wallow in it? The world doesn't need another sanctimonious wuss, it needs strong, clever people making hard sacrifices, ruthless, logical decisions! Tough up! Stop caring, and you'll never be hurt again!

Much like a certain crowd who think basic human decency is somehow political propaganda, perhaps, when SEM struck Tripitaka, he was trying to do the same thing.

Kill the embodiment of compassion, the sniveling, useless, fragile human that keeps holding SWK back. Replace him as the true Mind, the one strong enough to break all bonds and seize glory with his own two hands.

But without compassion, without humanity, one is no longer a whole person, and cannot reach enlightenment. In fact, just like how Buddha would only give the True Scripture to Tripitaka, if you are not brave enough to make yourself vulnerable, to suffer and feel other's suffering, you will never transcend it.

At best, you can have some pale imitations of the parts you have willingly shut out from yourself.

And that's what SEM does. He thought he could do it on his own, singlehandedly replace SWK and reap the benefits of enlightenment, but he is no Monkey Awakened to Emptiness.

He is just empty; cut off desires because it is base, cut off determined ideation because it is foolish, cut off compassion because it is weak, cut off the altruism and curiosity and creativity from the mind, and you are left with a grand total of NOTHING.

A shadow of a self, desperately clinging onto external validation and stolen stories, reading the pilgrim's travel paperwork out loud as if that would actually make the journey his.

Tripitaka needs to trust SWK and learn from him, because compassion, much like good intention, doesn't solve problems on its own, and mercy is not the same as enabling harm.

SWK needs his master's guidance, because even at his most selfish and impulsive, he cares, and only by extending that care to others and accepting the vulnerability that comes with it can he truly mature and become awakened to the ultimate truth.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

One last bit of ramble: I feel like there is something to be said about Tripitaka's tendency to trust Pigsy, and how the pursuit of enlightenment is often derailed by worldly desires.

Unlike the demons they encountered, however, Pigsy is not the personification of mental obstacles that must be destroyed, because you cannot destroy bodily needs, nor the very human tendencies to slack off and avoid trouble.

You should stop listening to its advice, sure. Poke fun at it, absolutely. But what Pigsy represents is part of the human condition, just like every other pilgrim, and also something one must make peace with.

[a-capricious-creative]

i feel like i finally understand why harry is a divisive character rather than a universally loved one. i came across a small post on instagram saying that harry scraped by on one or two clever lines and that ron is the actual sassy one. it wasn’t a huge post and everybody knows harry is the sass king but it brought something else to my attention.

harry is complex, good-hearted, self-sacrificing, resilient, cunning, smart, popular, charismatic, attractive, witty, talented and powerful. but he is also ruthless, manipulative, angry, detrimentally self-reliant and impulsive. he’s a well-written character with a lot of strengths. but the eagle-eyed, more intelligent readers will notice them as well as his flaws.

other readers who read purely for escapism and judge purely based on emotional attachment will try to deny harry’s strengths and overemphasise his flaws as an excuse to give the spotlight and the credit to the character they’re attached to which creates and perpetuates narratives of harry being bland or an arsehole or incapable or whatever. because the reality is he’s the exact opposite, so much so that in the dimmer reader’s mind he overshadows their favourite character with his capability.

if these readers weren’t so dim, they’d be able to read with nuance and find things to enjoy about said character without needing to denigrate another to make them look good.

so aside from people who get lost in their fantasies about the characters and/or don’t pay attention to what’s written on the page or who aren’t emotionally intelligent enough to understand his trauma, harry is basically a massive scapegoat for people who want to give credit to the characters they’re attached to.

[whatdoyouwanttocallmefor]

𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐏𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐡𝐨? - 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐊𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐱 𝐒/𝐎

The Mafia Team Reunion

Genre: Action, Mafia AU, Comedy, Found Family, Romance, Mild Angst

Warning: Mentions of weapons/guns, Mafia themes (rivalries, tension, past missions), Mild violence, Strong and confident OC/S.O., Flirty chaos with the SKZ boys, Secret identities / undercover moments, Smart!S.O. who might just outsmart the whole team, Possible language (minor swearing), Unexpected plot twists and a whole lotta sass

---

The headquarters of the syndicate was unusually lively tonight. The usual air of seriousness had been replaced by laughter, playful banter, and the warm presence of their partners. After all, it wasn’t often that all eight of them were together in one place, and their S/Os weren’t about to let the night be all about business.

Bang Chan sat at the head of the table, his arm draped lazily around Y/N/C’s shoulder as he shook his head at the chaos unfolding before him. "I thought this was supposed to be a meeting," he muttered, though there was amusement in his voice.

"It is!" Jisung grinned, tossing a piece of popcorn at Changbin, who dodged it effortlessly. "A very productive one."

"If by ‘productive,’ you mean watching Minho lose at rock-paper-scissors against Y/N/M, then sure," Felix chimed in, laughing as Minho scowled at his S/O, who was smugly celebrating their third consecutive win.

"I let them win," Minho muttered, but Y/N/M only rolled their eyes. "Sure you did. Keep telling yourself that."

Hyunjin was lounging on the couch with Y/N/H in his lap, twirling a strand of their hair around his fingers. "Honestly, I don’t even remember the last time we all sat together like this. It’s kind of nice."

"Because usually, we’re dealing with some idiot who thought it was a good idea to cross us," Seungmin said, leaning back in his chair with Y/N/S beside him. "But I have to admit, it’s refreshing to not have to threaten anyone tonight."

"Yet," Jeongin corrected, raising a brow as Y/N/I handed him a cookie. "We all know someone’s bound to do something stupid again soon."

"Can we not talk about work for once?" Y/N/F whined, nudging Felix, who simply chuckled and kissed their temple. "Tonight’s about us, not them."

Chan exhaled, shaking his head with a smile. "Fine, fine. No business talk. Just us."

"And food!" Y/N/J added, nudging Jisung. "He promised to cook something special tonight."

Jisung groaned, but there was a fondness in his eyes. "Fine, but if you burn your tongues, that’s on you."

Laughter filled the room as everyone settled into the comfortable chaos of their makeshift gathering. For one night, they weren’t mafia leaders, strategists, or ruthless figures feared by the underworld.

They were just them eight powerful men who had somehow found love in the middle of the darkness.

And for now, that was enough.

---

The next morning, the base was unusually quiet. Too quiet.

"Where are they?" Minho asked, glancing around. The S/Os were nowhere to be seen.

"They wouldn’t have just left without saying anything," Chan said, pulling out his phone. His expression darkened. "They’re not answering."

It took them only seconds to track down the last location their partners had been an upscale shopping district. Without another word, they were in their cars, driving with urgency.

By the time they arrived, however, the scene before them was not what they had expected.

Instead of helpless victims, they found their partners in the midst of battle, handling the ambush as if it were just another routine sparring session.

Y/N/M ducked under a blade’s arc, gripping the attacker’s wrist and twisting it behind their back before delivering a brutal kick to the back of their knees. As they collapsed, Y/N/M grabbed their own knife and flipped it in the air before catching it. "That’s how you use it."

Y/N/J swung a heavy bag full of luxury items into an enemy’s gut, sending them stumbling back before finishing them off with a precise punch to the jaw. "Guess shopping really is dangerous."

Y/N/I leaped over an overturned table, firing a taser directly into an opponent’s chest before spinning and delivering a back kick to another’s face. "Two for one special."

Y/N/F caught an attacker’s wrist mid-punch and wrenched it downward, forcing them to drop their weapon before driving an elbow into their ribs. With a flick of their wrist, they grabbed the abandoned knife and threw it into the leg of another enemy trying to flee. "Where do you think you’re going?"

Y/N/H ducked as an assailant aimed a gun at them, grabbing their wrist and redirecting the shot before twisting their arm until a sickening crack echoed through the alley. They snatched the gun from their limp fingers, checked the magazine, and smirked. "Not bad, but I prefer mine fully loaded."

Y/N/S used a broken pipe from a nearby construction site, twirling it expertly before knocking out two enemies in swift movements. "Did you guys really think you had a chance?"

Y/N/CB grabbed a steel rod from the wreckage, swinging it at an enemy’s stomach before using it to trip another charging at them. With a smirk, they leaned on the rod. "You all came for us, and yet you’re the ones on the ground. Hilarious."

Y/N/C flipped over a market stall, using it as leverage to launch themselves into a flying kick that sent one enemy sprawling. As another rushed at them with a knife, they dodged fluidly, catching their wrist and twisting it, forcing them to stab their own ally instead. "I’d say this went poorly for you."

By the time the mafia members arrived, the battlefield was already theirs. Their partners stood tall amongst fallen enemies, breathing heavily but unscathed.

"Took you guys long enough," Y/N/M said, cracking their knuckles.

"What the hell happened?" Hyunjin asked, his wide eyes scanning the scene.

"Oh, just a little ambush," Y/N/F shrugged, tossing a fallen enemy’s gun onto the pile. "Nothing we couldn’t handle."

Felix stared at the carnage. "You took them all out... by yourselves?"

"Obviously," Y/N/I grinned. "What, you thought we were just pretty faces?"

Jisung ran a hand through his hair, looking both proud and horrified. "I don’t know whether to praise you or scold you."

Seungmin sighed, rubbing his temples. "We’re supposed to be the ones protecting you. Not the other way around."

"Hey, we’re part of this team too," Y/N/S reminded him, wiping the dust off their hands. "We just proved it."

Chan finally let out a breath, shaking his head with a mix of exasperation and pride. "I don’t know whether to scold you or reward you."

"Reward!" Y/N/C chimed in immediately, making everyone laugh.

Changbin let out an exaggerated sigh. "Fine. But next time, at least tell us before you disappear like that. My heart can’t take another surprise like this."

Y/N/CB patted his cheek playfully. "Noted, boss."

With that, the group turned to leave, the playful bickering continuing as they walked away from the chaos they left behind an unshakable team, stronger together, no matter what came their way.

[assortedvillainvault]

Hi! I was browsing the Lord Shen tag and found your blog 👀. I loved the headcanons for ShenxReader through the wolf henchmen's pov ❤️.

Would you mind sharing some headcanons but from the pov of the fluffy Lord peacock himself?

Hi Anon, thank you so much!!

I'm so sorry that my Lord Shen Masterlist slipped my mind - I'm fighting tumblrs atrocious tag search to find my previous writings for him and get them on there for you. In the meantime please - have some more!

Lord Shen x Reader Headcannons

- This stuck up, mithery, hairpin tempered ball of anxiety and condescension is officially your problem now. I mean. You chose this, so I’ll leave it to you as to what end of the bad choices scale you’re landing on, but man. You sure picked.

- I also can’t get over the fact that – in China and most of the East: white is associated with death and sadness, and mourning. You not only picked the unhinged genocide gun bird, you picked the only person in all of China to be literally born emo via albinism.

- I will get back to the above, but I’m mcfucking losing it over the image of Shen being. The smaller of the two of you.

- Like if you were a smaller creature he could properly get his elegant noble stride on, nose in the air and tail gently swishing behind him as he circles you, admiring every angle and relishing the nervous, excited little glances you give him. He might not be a strictly predatory species but he sure loves that thrilling edge of not-quite-stalking. He’s too high class for the genuine article, that’s what he has the wolves for.

- But if you had the audacity to be larger than him?!

- He’d grind his teeth if he had any. He wants so badly to intimidate you – making sure to step with an extra click of metal coated talons, words honey-barbed and sticky as he looks for chinks in your armour, having to crane his head back and up to look you in the eye and- look- could, could you just- just lean down? Lean down for goodness sake just- there. There. Lovely. As he was saying…

- Shen going to go bananas planning the perfect courtship. Everything must be. Exactly. As he plans it. God forbid you trip on the stairs. If you bribe the guards to move all furniture two inches to the left you’re going to have a great time watching Shen’s eyelid twitch for twenty minutes as he tries to figure out what’s ticking him off.

- Want a shortcut? Say nice things about his cannon. No seriously, it’s not a euphemism (though it could be-)

- The cannon is the culmination of Shen’s ambitions, the reason for his exile, the demonstration of ingenuity that set him apart. Seeing you run a hand smoothly over the intricate castings and complimenting his life's work is going to fill him with so many butterflies he’ll have the wedding ready by noon.

- Of course he does, underneath all the royal snobbery and sass, really, genuinely like you. More than he ever thought he could ever like another person. Go you.

- ...He can’t contain the terror that you might not like him back. Not because of all the murder, no, that’s clearly not the issue. But because he isn’t perfect enough for you. Because he’s not enough.

- Shen popped out of his egg all but rocking the 2007 bangs and MCR soundtrack of his time: born the colours of death in a house and species traditionally all the colours of the rainbow will have been like a self fulfilling prophesy – unspoken but not forgotten as he grew up and internalised his inadequacy by striving for excellence in literally everything else in life.

- Excellence in the form of weaponry, security, excessive control and genocidal ruthlessness. Combined with ingenuity, high intelligence and paranoia: all wrapped in a package of straining courtly manners and a need to constantly have the upper hand.

- You keep taking the fucking rug out from under him by reversing the script and being nice. Even his nanny (soothsayer, who has having a great time munching popcorn and giving incidental commentary) gives him shit and drives him up the wall – yet you’re out here, smiling (how dare you-) and- and saying he looks good (he knows, knows he looks sickly and out of place, a reaper amongst royalty-) and – of course you want to hand his hand really, who wouldn’t (who would?) - he’s fine, he’s fine-

- If he dared to let you go, he’d shatter like a discarded doll.

- How does it feel, reader, to hold the fate of all China in the balance of your smile?