#so maybe if there's more going around he might be cheaper

[eowynstwin]

peristalsis - iii

selkie!soap x reader. depression. suicidal ideation. strangers to "lovers." cunnilingus. analingus. spitting. piv. doggy. missionary. rough sex. size kink. breeding kink. biting. mean soap. manipulative soap. smut. . Running away from life to the Scottish Hebrides, you meet a man who won't leave you alone. . Masterlist. Ao3.

previous

The ocean calls the seal to return, and you finally heed the growing chill you’ve been ignoring, as well as the complaints of your nearly-empty stomach.

Starvation is not on your list of preferred ways to end your own life, so you check the fridge Johnny said he had stocked. What you find is disconcerting—hoping for snack foods, pre-packaged conveniences, you instead find a carton of eggs, hard cheeses, condiment bottles. Milk in a jug, green herb bundles, sticks of butter, and an unopened package of bacon.

The freezer is much the same. Bags of vegetables and meats like shrimp or scallops. Frozen loaves of bread. Not even a single carton of ice cream. When the pantry also yields nothing more ready to eat—no chips, no cup ramen, no cans of soup—you give up.

There’s a hierarchy of action you’re willing to take to preserve yourself, organized around a precept of energy expenditure—eating spends less than cooking, so you focus on the former and do not practice the latter anymore.

Even though most food has lost its taste by now.

So you lay down on the couch. Sulking, maybe, but it’s the only halfway satisfying thing left to you. You angle yourself toward the shelf of books it faces in place of a TV; it’s mostly romance novels. Bright pink or blue or violet or red spines facing outward, most of them already cracked and creased down through their titles.

Did Johnny stock those for you too—emptying the shelves of a thrift book store for a woman he knew would be alone—or are they just set dressing for his dream of a honeymoon getaway?

You start thinking about the cliffs by the cove.

They’re not very tall. Maybe three stories. You would feel the impact—and it might not even work. You would lay there at the bottom, in the packed sand, broken. But alive to feel every consequence of it.

You might still die, but it would be slow. Someone could find you, and save you. Probably Johnny. You might be permanently broken—worse off than when you began.

It’s not an option.

You could have just bought a gun if you stayed home. It would have been cheaper, and faster—

Anxious energy needles at your legs and prickles along the insides of your palms; you sit up, agitated. Your stomach bubbles as the acid inside slides around with nothing to eat into. You scowl at yourself and retrieve Johnny’s jacket from the floor.

It’s colder outside than before, when you leave the cottage for the third time that day for the walk to Vatersay village. You can see it from the front door of the cottage, only about a mile away, and as you get going, you find a walking trail cutting through the machair grass leading in its direction.

The sky darkens far earlier than you expect, on the way. You hadn’t thought you were far enough north for that. Absent of city lights, the Hebridean starscape peeks through gaps in the moonlit clouds overhead, winking to life as the sun retreats around the earth’s curve. You pause—even your ennui is no match for the cosmos—looking to see if you can find the arm of the Milky Way, but the autumn sky does not seem inclined to show it to you.

By the time you reach the village outskirts, warm rectangles of yellow light are already brightening the windows against a heavy blue night. You get directions to the pub from an older man walking his dog—Last Cull, it’s called. You find it with a carved wooden sign, adorned with the silhouette of a lounging seal, hanging by the door at the front, and walk in.

Johnny said that less than a hundred people populate the island; when you walk in, at least a third of them must be here, and their collective chatter, along with the sounds of drinking glasses clinking or hitting tables, and the warble of classic rock music, all rush at you at once when you open the door, carried on a wave of orangey lamplight and the smell of hops and a burst of thick, hot air.

It’s more life—more sound—than you were remotely prepared for, and you freeze in the threshold. You stand there long enough that, worse, several heads turn to look at you—

The outsider.

You duck your head, and look at the floor as you direct yourself at an empty stool at the bar. Your purse beats against your leg with every quick step, heavy with a tourist’s excess preparation, and following eyes lance you like pins through a butterfly’s wing.

A man in a beanie and mutton chops is wiping a glass dry behind the counter; he looks at you drolly when you sit down.

“W’can I get you?” he asks, surprising you with a distinctly un-Scottish accent.

You blink several times. “Um…”

The bartender is immediately unimpressed. “Liverpool, love. You drinking or eating?”

You flush. “I’m sorry—um—both?”

He nods. He does not offer a menu. “Right.”

He disappears with the same abruptness of manner behind a swinging door, leaking greenish fluorescent kitchen light around the edges and through the circular window set up in the middle.

Whatever waves you made upon your arrival already seem to have dissipated, ineffectual in the long-term; conversation in heavy Scots flows around you, relaxed and indistinct. The pub is warm with body heat, little groups of islanders pulled in close together around pints and tankards and easy conversation.

These people likely have known each other for years; seen each other grow up. Watched time etch lines across one another’s faces. You can’t really understand the words being exchanged between any of them, but the tenor is familiar. None of it is especially important to say to one another, you know—it’s the back and forth that’s the point. The sway and rock of practiced call and answer. Of knowing, when they say something, that a response will be given, even if the response is something that’s been said a thousand times before.

You run your fingers along the dented surface of the old bar. Shift in your stool. Pick at a sliver of skin coming up from one cuticle. A single drop of oil in the middle of an ocean.

The bartender returns to you from the kitchen, no food in hand. Instead, there’s a new expression on his face—a hammer aimed at your protruding nail. His eyes are narrowed; his brows are drawn together.

“You’re Soap’s tourist,” he says.

“Um,” you say, pinned under the intensity of his stare, “no?”

He rolls his eyes. “Johnny MacTavish. Everyone else calls him Soap.”

“Oh.” You cannot guess at all where this conversation might be going. “Yes?”

“He cooks for me some nights,” the bartender says. “He’s in the kitchen right now. He says dinner is on him, and he’ll bring it out soon.”

“He’s here?” you demand, jaw dropping.

“Some nights,” the man repeats. He picks his drying rag back up, and gets to work on another glass. Your association with Johnny—Soap—seems to have unlocked in him a geniality that would otherwise be inaccessible to you. “Lad was right chuffed when you rented out the croft. Hadn’t seen him that excited in ages. Wouldn’t stop talking about it for a month.”

He hasn’t offered you a drink and doesn’t seem inclined to. Still intimidated, you don’t ask.

“He told me I was his first guest,” you say, worrying at your cuticle.

“Mm-hm,” responds. Then he eyes you. “See why he was so worked up now.”

You stop your jaw from dropping for a second time, but only just—the weight of Johnny’s hand ghosts down your back, aided by his scent radiating from his jacket, released from the fibers it’s seeped into by your body heat.

“How—um, how do you know Johnny—Soap?” you ask, awkwardly.

“If he told you to call him Johnny, call him Johnny,” the man says. “Was his captain, once upon a time. Served together in the SAS. Name’s John Price.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Price,” you say.

He grunts. “John’s fine. He been behaving?”

“Um,” you say, entirely unsure how to answer that, when the kitchen door flings open.

“Bonnie!” Johnny exclaims, apron-clad, rosy-faced, and grinning wide.

He’s exchanged his heavy sweater for a lighter, cream-colored henley, sleeves rolled up his broad forearms. Combined with the cinch of the apron strings around his middle, it highlights and flatters the athletic build of his silhouette. The hem of his kilt flutters around his knees as he hurries over.

“Hi, Johnny,” you sigh.

He balances a steaming dish on one hand and carries some silverware wrapped in a napkin in the other. The plate tilts precariously as he directs himself at you, but the food survives as he slides it in onto the bar in front of you.

“Shoulda told me you were comin’ down, or I’d’ve had somethin’ better ready to make!” he scolds, though he’s clearly too pleased to mean it.

On top of a ceramic plate, the glaze spiderwebbed with cracks from age and constant use, three oblong triangles of fried fish rest atop checked wax paper, attended by a large stainless still cup of large wedge fries that you remember are referred to as “chips.” Beside that is a small cup of some white condiment you don’t recognize. Everything looks fresh from the fryer, as if Johnny could not wait one second to long to bring it to you.

“Oy, lad, how come I don’t get that kinda table service?” someone yells out behind you. “M’ I not pretty enough for you?”

A chorus of laughter answers the teasing. You hunch into yourself.

“Go back to your pint, Angus, ya weapon!” Johnny returns grandly. Then, to you, “Here, this is the best thing for it—”

John Price has already stepped far aside; you and he watch as Johnny retrieves a long-stemmed glass from a shelf, and then pulls a bottle of wine from a low fridge. He sets the glass beside your plate and uncorks the bottle—bicep quivering as he works the screw—and then, thumb in the punt, he pours out a stream of white wine one-handed.

“Tossers over there’ll call me mad but Sav Blanc with a fish an’ chips is pure class,” says Johnny. Then, to your horror, he sets his elbows on the counter in front of you. “Go on, have us a bite.”

You stare at him agog. His cheeks are flushed red, and you’re not sure it’s from the heat of the kitchen or—his gaze flicks to your mouth and back—something far less comforting. He stares back at you, grin unmoving—eyes bright and vibrant and too intense to hold contact with for long.

You look down at the meal again. The fish looks crunchy and thick with golden brown crust; the chips are sharp at the edges and dusted with salt and some sort of green seasoning. The smell is impossible to ignore—hot and floury and oily.

You take a chip and dip it tentatively into the white sauce. Johnny’s eyes dance with excitement as they follow the movement. When you take a bite, the bitter tang of tartar meets your tongue and mixes with the mild potato as you chew.

It is only just shy of hot enough to burn but—it’s good. It’s delicious. It’s the best thing, you realize, that you’ve tasted in you’re not sure how long.

You do your absolute utmost to prevent that from showing on your face.

“It’s good,” you say, and take another bite.

“Barry!” Johnny enthuses. “Now have a dram, go on.”

Rather than allow you to pick up the glass like a normal person, Soap lifts it in one large hand—knuckles and wrist peppered with dark hair—and brings the rim to your mouth. You have no choice but to take a sip as he tilts it toward you, or else end up dribbling white wine everywhere.

You must begrudgingly agree, as it passes across your tongue, that it pairs very well with what you’ve eaten.

You nod at him in lieu of another response; the corners of his eyes crinkle. He sets the glass down and slaps the counter with both palms, pushing himself away from it.

“Enjoy that an’ I’ll be back for ya in a mo,’” he says. With a bounce in his step, he disappears back into the kitchen.

John Price throws you another droll look. “You’re never getting rid of him now.”

When he turns away to address another patron, you scowl at his back.

Johnny comes in and out of the kitchen several times, as you pick at the food. Whatever his usual habits as the pub cook, it seems he’s in a magnanimous mood this evening, bringing orders to every table and chatting with anyone who catches his attention.

And a lot of people catch his attention. Island native or not, it seems that Johnny is everyone’s favorite boy—and it’s hard not to see why. He throws bright smiles at everyone who speaks to him, pats shoulders, trades good-natured Scottish ribbing with anyone who throws it his way. He’s familiar, it seems, with everyone he talks to—or he’s good at making it seem that way.

And the effect it has on everyone he talks to is obvious. Weathered faces, the kind that seem to rest at a permanent, severe frown, rise to beam as brightly as the sun after Johnny spends a minute or two checking in on them. Fond eyes follow him around the pub; the conversations at tables he visits keeps a lively tenor even after he leaves it.

You reach for your wineglass and drink deep.

“There we go!” Johnny exclaims, noticing.

He does not leave you neglected, of course—he keeps circling around, looking at your plate, and then at you, and filling your glass when you empty it. It strikes you as rather sweet until he starts availing himself of a mouthful every time—turning the glass so that his lips cover the marks yours have made on it.

When about half of your plate has been cleared, and Johnny is returning from delivering a tray of sandwiches to another table, he comes up behind you and leans in close, hands curling around your shoulders. Mouth brushing your ear.

“Dinner rush is almost done, bonnie,” he murmurs, butter-smooth and low as banked embers. “Then I’m all yours.”

A tremor runs up the nerves in your spine; you sit up straighter when he pulls away, the fine hairs on the back of your neck reaching toward him as if statically charged.

You catch John Price eyeing you again, expression blasé. You flush up to the roots of your hair and avoid looking at him again.

Eventually, the pub begins to vacate, somewhere close to ten in the evening. No city bar, this one, even on a Friday night. You finish three-quarters of the bottle of wine in between turning the fish and chips into mush and crumbs, finally pushing everything away from you as the last stragglers jingle the bell above the door.

Then it’s just John Price, pulling on a coat, Johnny doing dishes in the kitchen, and you, alone, sneakers hooked to a rung on the barstool.

John Price sticks his head through the swinging door. “We still doing Sunday, Soap? Or d’you have new plans?”

“Course doin’ Sunday!” Johnny yells. “Canny wait!”

“Alright. I’m leaving, lock up when you go.”

And with that, John Price gives you a cursory nod, and makes his exit.

Soon after, Johnny exits the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel, the motions making his pectorals twitch and flex. His apron is gone, the little v of his shirt collar exposing dark, curling chest hair.

The odd pelt—you realize, from your experience this morning, that it’s a seal’s—still hangs around another plaid kilt.

Your heartbeat is hot and heavy in your ears. You stare at him, lips pressed together tightly, a tremor working its way between your shoulders.

He tilts his head toward you, eyes half-lidded. When you meet his gaze again, his smile is set at an expectant angle.

“Drive me home, Johnny,” you finally say, wine and humiliation pulsing through your veins.

He drives you home in silence, and rests his hand on your thigh the whole way there.

You don’t move it. You don’t react, either—even when his pinky flicks against the seam of your leggings, right where it lays against your pussy. He roves his spread fingers and heavy palm all across the length and breadth of your thigh, cresting down over your knee and back up again, squeezing and massaging the fat of your quad.

You don’t say anything. He does not prompt you to do so. The corner of his mouth, when you look to him at your side, catching his profile, is curled.

The silence continues when he pulls up to the cottage—even the wind is light and quiet, as you unlock the door to let the both of you in. The night sky is cobbled with clouds that pass over slowly, letting only slivers of moonlight reach the earth, so inside the croft is dark and murky.

You don’t move to switch any lights on. Nor does Johnny, following close behind you.

Out of sight, it seems your body forgets who—or what, even—is following you. He is only a presence at your back, a body taking up space, and in the darkness, with only your hindbrain to rely on, he could be anyone.

Anything.

You stop in the middle of the living room. He hovers behind you. Not quite touching—but close enough to feel the gravity of him, strong enough to pull you in.

You drop your purse on the couch, and make to shuck his jacket—his hands take hold of the shoulders, allowing you to slide out of it. The deep, even pulse of his breathing is right there at the shell of your ear.

“Bonnie,” he murmurs, husky.

“I’m,” you say, “I’m going to use the bathroom.”

A pause. Then—“Alright,” he purrs.

You escape.

In the mirror above the sink, you look yourself in the eye. What you see is nothing you haven’t seen before—pitiable, needy, pathetic—and it’s nothing you have any desire to confront now. If you think too hard about it—if you ask yourself what you should be asking—there will be no coming back from it.

He’s been dangling this in front of you this whole time. It’s no fault of yours for taking it. This once, you aren’t to blame for what happens next. This once.

You run the cold tap over a washcloth and dab cool water across your face and down your neck. It does little to regulate the heat flushing through you.

If you don’t go out there now, he might leave.

You throw the cloth into the sink basin and open the door.

And Johnny is there, standing right there in front of it, leaning casually against the opposite wall—

Completely naked.

You stop dead.

Gray moonlight falls across his body in a thin haze. The bulky, sculpted planes of it roll with dense muscle and dark hair, which is thick and curly across rounded pectorals and joins in a broad stream down his abdomen. Twisting into a nest at his groin, they cushion a long, wide cock, uncut, half-hard—

That jumps at your appearance.

He meets your eyes. They are silvery and sharp, even in the gloam. Drags his gaze down—leveling it with your tightening nipples. Then he reaches to his side and twists the doorknob to the bedroom.

It swings open. Empty bed in the doorframe.

His cock jumps again. A diamond-drop of moisture beads at the tip.

“Go on,” he murmurs.

You walk in, barely aware of your own footsteps. His bare feet cross the floor behind you, and then the door shuts again.

He does not say another word as he approaches you; you do not turn to face him. You stand as if restrained in place as large, warm hands skim the dip of your waist, slope easily down your hips and up again; he pinches the hem of your sweater and lifts. You raise your arms, lost in the fugue of your pounding heart; he brings it over your head, and tosses it to the side.

Rough hands smoothing over your bare skin, almost like sweeping away dust. He unhooks your bra with startling dexterity—fingers slide beneath the straps and loosen them down your shoulders. Hands dipping down your chest, edging under and replacing the cups around your breasts.

His thumbs press your nipples in, circle around them; you gasp, flinch back against him, and feel his cock, fully erect, nestle in the cleft of your ass. He huffs a laugh into your hair.

His hands return to your waist, and they slide down, pressed open against your sides, as Johnny goes to his knees behind you. He grasps the waistbands of both panties and leggings and—face centimeters away from the globe of one ass cheek—pulls both down in one smooth, soft sweep.

It feels like being skinned. Your heart beats a hammer in the arteries against your throat. You nearly lose your balance, tilting when you lift one foot out of your clothes, before one of Soap’s hands return to your waist to give you ballast. Holding you up like it’s nothing. He squeezes the meat of your hip tenderly, massages the give of it with the tips of his fingers, skin warm and rough against yours.

The moment you’d first caught sight of Johnny in the airport, he’d slotted cleanly into a certain taxon of manhood; one need only to examine his morphology briefly—the mohawk, the muscles, stubborn refusal to cover his knees even as winter fast approaches—to understand that his is the lifestyle of the fast-living. He leers. He gropes. He runs down what he sets his eyes on whether his prey likes it or not.

An organism with cheap pleasure on its mind, and nothing more. Johnny’s bull-focused intentions had stunk acrid and obvious the moment they’d fallen upon you—aimed, you thought unceremoniously, between your legs and nowhere else.

So why, as his hands drag up the backs of your thighs, is he touching you so tenderly? Teasing you open, rather than prising you apart. Touching you as if he’s in no hurry to do anything else.

It feels like an insult. It feels like mercy you didn’t ask for. Without thinking, without knowing you’re going to do it—you slap his hand away.

“Is this going to take all night, or are you going to get around to fucking me sometime soon?” you snap, galled.

An indrawn breath. His or yours, you’re not entirely sure.

Then he rises up, shoves a hand hard between your shoulder blades, and you topple forward onto the bed, flailing, landing face-first, as Johnny knees up behind you.

“So that’s how you want it, then,” he says. Nonchalant. “Aye, I can do that. Come here.”

You don’t have time to scramble away before rough hands grab your hips and yank them back, pulling you up onto your knees, and with no more preamble Johnny shoves his face into your naked pussy from behind. Immediately hot and star-bright; thumbs hook into your outer folds to spread you open moments before his tongue burns a stripe from clit to perineum, no slow build, no warm-up, before he starts eating you out like he’s starving.

You shriek from the sudden contact, hips jerking, but his hold is iron, and the more you resist the more he tightens his grasp, fingertips digging down near to bone. He licks at your folds, at the dips between them, as if he’s pulling swipes of you away on every taste bud, imprecise, mouthing your cleft as if he means to swallow it whole.

When you reach back with one hand to grab his hair—to hold him where he is or shove him away, you’re not sure—he releases one hip and shackles your wrist in his fingers, bending your arm at the elbow and pinning it to your lower back.

“You asked for it,” he growls against you, “and now you’re gettin’ it,” another dig of his tongue around your entrance, “so don’ fuckin’ complain.”

He pulls away and abruptly spits on your asshole before diving back in. With the thumb of the same hand around your wrist, he smears it around, dipping just inside at the same time his tongue breaches your cunt; you feel teeth press against your perineum for a breathless moment before he lets up, and then he prods your clitoris with little jabbing licks, forcing his way up under the hood that fails to protect it from his onslaught.

You have a free hand—you reach back to slap at him again. The theory of insanity proves true; one wrist joins the other, and Johnny uses his own weight to move you as he likes, arms curled over your hips, rocking your entire body against his mouth, lips smacking against you as he alternates between licking up the slick that abruptly starts welling around your entrance and sucking your labia between his teeth.

He grunts and snarls after every brief surfacing for air, every time his tongue touches you again, as if every new taste of you in his mouth is better than the last. His hands tighten into vices around your wrists as he buries in deeper, groaning, shoving his face against you so hard it thrusts your hips forward, which he greedily drags back, and then he flutters his tongue against your clit as if to punish you for his own forcefulness.

“Johnny—” you cry, “Johnny, slow down, slow down—!”

A climax swells within you before you have any time to prepare for it, a closeout curling in so fast that it hits you before you can brace. Johnny thumbs your ass again and suctions his lips closed around your clitoris, tearing a scream from your throat, ripping your orgasm even further out of you as you suddenly, violently convulse.

It jerks you in his grasp, as if whipping you, and then, as fast as it came at you, it recedes; you sag, dizzy and gulping air, but Johnny’s mouth opens around your pussy again as if nothing happened, tongue and lips losing none of their frantic voracity.

“Johnny,” you whimper, “Johnny, I came, you can stop—”

“Don’t give half a shite, am no’ done,” he snarls, accent thicker than you’ve heard it before.

Your breath shudders out of you as he runs the edges of his teeth up your folds, and then, briefly, the flat of his tongue circles your asshole, before dipping back down into the heat of your cunt. He catches your clit again in a quick succession of sucking kisses, loud and wet and pulling at it so hard that tugs at nerves all the way down your legs, spasming through your calves.

Your breath thins in your lungs, escaping you in high, reedy whines, and finally, he pulls his mouth away—only to replace it with his hand. He transfers your crossed wrists into one grasp, wedging all four fingers between the split of your cleft and shaking it vigorously, like a dog might with a small animal clamped in its jaws. He follows this with several rapid slaps against flesh that is already screaming with overstimulation—

And then the head of something hot and hard parts you, circling to find its target, and with as little preamble as he began Johnny shoves his fat, rock-hard cock into you, all the way to the base in one harsh thrust.

It shoves the air from your lungs in one go, leaves you no room to breathe in before he grabs your wrists again, like reins, pulls halfway out, and rams back in again, setting a brutal pace, his thighs slamming against the fat of your ass at a rapid staccato that shakes the old bedframe on its creaky legs.

He barely pulls out as he fucks you this way, thrusting short and hard, your face crushed against the bedsheets as he uses your arms to pull you back against him to meet every thrust. The fattest part of his cock catches your g-spot over and over, bright and hot as iron pulled from a fire, and you can’t even get enough breath in your lungs to do more than whimper every time his hips meet yours.

“This is wha’ she fuckin’ needed, hen, aye?” Johnny snarls. “Hissin’ an’ spittin’ like a stray cat, didnae know wha’s good fer it, jus’ needed a big cock in ‘er wet cunt, didnae she?”

A long, shaky moan is the only response you can give. Fast, fast and hard—he bucks against you wildly, violently, sending shockwaves up your body that jounce your breast and ripple across your blazing cheeks. Your mouth hangs open at a loose angle—if you try to close your teeth, you might accidentally bite into your tongue—

He releases your wrists, and your arms fall hard to the bedspread. Then he bends over your back, planting his hands in the spaces over your shoulders, making a cage with his his body. It changes the angle of his thrusts, lets him force his way in even deeper, kissing the head of your cervix. You climb your hands up the bedspread, claw at his wrists with your nails, but you might as well be a curl of wind trying to knock over a pillar of stone.

“You can bitch an’ whine all you wan’ at me, bonnie,” he says, a nasty thread in his tone, “but I know mean pussy just needs some pettin’ to make it nice again, don’ I, now?”

You try to struggle under him, search for some sort of purchase in the sheets beneath you, and for a moment you think he’s making space to let you; his weight retreats as you rise to all fours, but then one solid, beefy arm closes around your neck in a chokehold. He brings the both of you up, settling you over the cradle of his thighs as he sits back on his heels, clamping your back against his chest.

His free hand snakes down between your thighs, finding your clitoris again with rough, abrading calluses. A hard, grinding roll of his hips, upward and forward, pushes it up into his touch, like the crest of a wave, but gravity gives you no escape on the downwell; he pushes and pulls you as he likes, heel of his hand digging hard into the sensitive edge of your mons.

You scrabble with your hands for something to hold onto—you find the brackets of his wide thighs, wiry with dark hair, and dig your nails into hard, tensed muscle. He only laughs in your ear, speeds the rhythm of his hips, pinches your clitoris between his fingers and drags it around.

“Told ya, bonnie,” he gloats, taking the lobe briefly between his lips, “she wants it—” and he pushes his cock in deep, shaking his hips “—bad as he does.”

He reaches further inward and splits his fingers around his own girth, pressing upward—as if he intends to shove them in too, and choking for air as you are you think deliriously that they might just slip in, no resistance, aided by the wetness free-flowing now around him, dripping in long streams down the inside of your thighs.

Inescable—no matter what you do, it’s nothing to him. You thrash against him, whining through gritted teeth in frustration, but he only moves with you, anticipating every direction you might blindly throw yourself in to get away. You cry out in wordless fury, slapping whatever parts of him you can reach, but it doesn’t matter. There is no purchase for you anywhere, nothing you can use to grab back any sort of control.

He’s too big. Too strong. You finally begin to comprehend it in a way that had been impossible before. Looking at him from a few paces, Johnny is easy to take in; easy to summarize and dismiss when you can see the whole of him at once.

But now, at your back—he feels vast. Enormous. An undulating wall of a hard body flexing against you, mooring you to it, all heat and sweat and sharp, animalistic grunting as it pistons into you from behind. The hand manipulating your clit is wide enough to cover your pussy entirely; the pillar of his body doesn’t so much as shudder as you struggle, instinct overriding desire as you try to escape the lightning-streaks of pleasure he carelessly sends through you.

You are too primed from your earlier climax to possibly last, and Johnny seems to feel it—you flutter and clutch around him, the sensation almost painful, but when both your hands fly to the one between your legs he only increases the pressure.

“You gonna come again, bonnie?” he sneers into your ear. “Jus’ tiring yourself out, poor baby. Fightin’ it so hard, an’ it’s gonna happen anyway.”

It does—he starts slapping your pussy again, right above where his cock stretches you to your limit, quick and sharp, and you break with ragged scream, arms flailing out uselessly, nails finding his forearm around your throat.

“Johnny—” you cry out, “Johnny!”

“Fuck,” he groans in your ear, “steamin’ Jesus, fuck—”

Suddenly he pushes you away from him, and you flail again as you land face-first into the pillows. His cock slips out of you entirely, even as you’re still clenching around your orgasm, but you have no time to react, either to mourn it or be relieved, because Johnny grabs you by the thighs, flips you over in one motion, and drives back in again before it ends.

“Fuck, bonnie, so good, fuck, do it again—”

He throws your legs open, leaving your calves to shake in the air as he fucks you faster. You nearly fold in half under the force of his thrusts, knees hovering nearer and nearer to your ears. Each slap of his hips against yours ricochets up your body, and, with nowhere else to go, back down—you ring like a bell, shaking all the way into your marrow.

“Soap,” you whine, “Soap, it—I—I can’t—”

Suddenly he grabs your face in his hand, so tightly he squeezes your cheeks together, pushing out your lips, and he lurches forward to get in your face. Fury blazes from him.

“I told you,” he snarls, “to call me Johnny.”

It shocks you so much that freeze up, going completely blank. The dark, sharp lines of his brows arch dangerously over flashing eyes.

He shakes your face. “Say it.”

“J—” you slur, unable to shape it in your lips properly, “Johnny.”

His nostrils flare wide. Fury is replaced by triumph. “Good fucking girl.”

He slams his mouth against yours.

The first time he’s kissed you, and he gives you no chance to participate in it. He purses your lips with the pressure of his hand to meld with his, opening your jaw wide enough to thrust his tongue behind your teeth. The force of it presses your head back into the pillow. It’s an attack; it’s an onslaught. And—if the grunts and groans Johnny makes in his throat as he does what he likes with your mouth are any indication—

It’s what he’s really wanted this whole time.

Everything else, he’s enjoyed. But this—his mouth on yours, lips moving together, saliva pooling and seeping between the seams—is the prize he’s aimed for all along.

It touches something inside of you. Something tiny and ugly. A thing that you’ve wrapped up in nacreous layers of shame and guilt, lodged in your soft tissues, and tried to forget about.

It sends your arms to wrap around Johnny’s neck, fingers digging into the shifting muscles of his shoulders. You close your thighs around his waist, crossing your ankles, and roll yourself up into every meeting of his hips with yours.

He moans, higher, and drops his full weight over you. His belly meets yours; his chest crushes your breasts under his. He uses the full brunt of his weight to rut into you, crashing his hips against you, stealing the breath from your lungs—

It’s an old trick you’ve learned from small experience, inhaling when you feel the rush coming—as if climax blooms in the lungs rather than the clitoral head, and filling your alveoli gives it no place to expand. It’s useful to prolong satisfaction, to stave off the end.

Johnny does not give you opportunity try. The only thing he allows you to occupy your mouth with is his, and as hypoxia thins out your bloodstream—as you begin to struggle for air—you go rigid with your third climax beneath him.

However long it lasts, you don’t know. It freezes you in place, in time. It wrenches your head back, arching your spine, tears one long, broken cry from your throat.

“Fuck yes,” Johnny gasps, feeling you clamp down so hard around him it seems you may never release him. He moves to bury his face in your throat. “Fuck yes, fuck yes, fuck—yes—”

His tempo falters, signaling the end—

Realization—“Wait!” you find some presence of mind to cry out—“a condom! We didn’t use—”

“It’s got a’go somewhere hen, an’ I’m no’ wastin’ it on yer belly,” he snarls, “just—just—yes—fuck—”

Then his teeth come down on your neck, hard, as his hips beat against yours, and then he buries himself to the root with one final, full-body thrust. He shakes his hips flush against yours as he groans long and loud, cock pulsing inside you, wet heat flooding you in jets, so full that it spills back out to drip down between you.

He pants hard into your shoulder. Your own breath labors, vision swimming.

A cloud covers the moon outside. Johnny makes no move to pull away from you—instead his arms wedge beneath you, banding around your back, and he rolls you both to your sides. You feel him kissing the sting his teeth left on your neck, as you lay there together, sweat cooling on your naked bodies.

Eventually, he pulls back enough to look at you. You have no time to arrange your expression, no idea even what you might want to present to him; whatever he sees on your face makes him smile, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“There’s my bonnie,” he murmurs, and the next kiss he gives you is soft and very sweet.

Your lips rise to meet his without you thinking about it.

He strokes your back very gently. Sooner than yours, his breathing evens out. Even as he softens inside of you, he keeps his hips against yours.

“Johnny,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says. “I know. Just a little while longer. Can you do that for me? Aye, you can, I know it.”

You should say something about spermicide. Plan B. But the look in his eyes is so soft, so content, that you put it away for later. You just hold his gaze as he looks at you like you’re everything that could ever make him happy.

He kisses you again. Soon, the heaving of your chest abates. Exhaustion pours through you in one drenching wave; you turn your head to yawn.

“Go to sleep, bonnie,” Johnny croons, pressing his fingers into the soft part of your lower back. “I’ll clean us up, aye? You just sleep.”

You don’t have the energy to fight anymore. Soon, you’re slipping away—you’re aware for long enough to feel it when he finally pulls away from you, when he runs a warm washcloth between your legs, and then when he slides back into bed beside you and pulls up the covers.

Then you’re gone.

Sometime after midnight, you half-wake.

The moon has moved far enough across the sky that its light floods the bedroom through its one window, casting everything in silver. Your eyes open slowly, blurred with sleep; Johnny is still beside you.

He’s sitting up against the headboard; eye-level with you is his waist, covered by the thin bedsheet. You draw your eyes up his body slowly—there, his navel, dark hair curling around it. There, his chest, full pectorals rising and falling slowly with calm, even breath.

When you reach his face, you find him looking down at you, corners of his mouth curled. You meet his eyes—

The moon reflects in them. Disks of shifting light in both pupils.

Some part of you, buried in your hindbrain, shouts with alarm. It’s far away, cottoned with sleep. Muffled enough by the soreness of three full-body orgasms to be ignored.

Johnny reaches out and drags the back of one finger along the wounded part of your neck. Touch feather-light.

“Why are you here?” he asks.

Vaguely, you remember that you’ve answered this question before, but that doesn’t feel consequential. Any part of you that could protest is still lost to sleep.

As is any ability to dissemble. The truth—the thing you attempted to abandon, that has followed you regardless—slips out.

“Nobody wants me,” you whisper.

So quiet you fear he won’t hear you, and ask you to repeat it.

But Johnny tilts his head. The curl of his mouth softens to something almost kind.

It doesn’t quite get there, because a gleam of satisfaction that you cannot name colors his shining gaze.

“I want you,” he murmurs.

His broad hand covers the crown of your head, and he strokes your hair. The tide of sleep comes back in, and you know nothing more.

chapter 4 early access

[blondedingdong]

live reaction to me looking for that new genesis card...

[kizzer55555]

Welcome to the Restraint! (Restaurant)

Imagine Danny runs to Gotham and starts squatting in an abandoned old building in Crime Alley. Slowly putting some ecto into the place to claim it as his haunt (while recovering from the sudden loss of his old one). And he does the normal stuff to survive. Finds some odd jobs, often as a messenger, and is just surviving. Another thing he does is make his own food. It’s cheaper than takeout and he’s gotten pretty good at cooking (out of necessity instead of eating sentient hotdogs). Then he ends up accidentally taking in some street kids. Or more like they follow him home. He can’t just turn them away so he makes a meal for them and lets them stay the night then sends them on their way. And then it happens again. And again. And ok, so maybe he saved a girl from getting molested. And that older guy from getting his only good blanket stolen. And sure, maybe letting that poor pizza delivery guy rant was unnecessary but he looked like he was having a bad day ok? Pretty sure that kid with the scar is a meta too but…he needed a place to stay a few nights alright? It’s not like any of them stay permanently. Danny’s started picking up a few more odd jobs to pay for all the extra food he’s had to buy. Always keeping his place stocked. At least he doesn’t have to pay for water and a fridge, he just makes some ice (or melts it). Sure the water is cold, but it’s probbaly the cleanest water in Gotham. And then some of the people start paying. Like…actually paying in exchange for food. Not sure if it’s because of guilt or pity but Danny won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. And with all the money, he hasn’t had to take as many dangerous jobs. Soon, his little abandoned apartment became what’s essentially the closest thing to a legitimate restaurant in Crime Alley.

It didn’t look normal. The chairs and tables were more like old couches and stools pulled up to coffee tables and cabinets turned on their side. Although with the bulling becoming more like Danny’s haunt, the walls naturally started repairing themselves so at least it didn’t look like it was gonna collapse anymore. And ok…so Danny might have rescued a few feral kids who…weirdly have gold eyes. And possibly stopped a meta trafficking ring on accident. And look, these people didn’t have anywhere to go! And the apartment did have empty rooms. It was already known as a place someone could crash for the night (last winter the entire place was cramped with people. Danny had to break up multiple fights but they usually calmed down when he got there.)

One benefit from controlling a haunt is controlling the temperature inside so it was one of the only buildings with ‘heat’. But back to his…strays. So yeah…most didn’t seem like they could rejoin society…so he let them stay. And…they kind of became employees? Impromptu bodyguards? (Some of the golden eyed people almost felt like he was rangling feral ghosts again.) they came in all ages. A few kids, lots of teens, and a few adults. Same with the metas he rescued. They mostly helped deliver food to costumers. They even got a phone line working and could take orders. (Although the new…employees…also got more protective whenever a fight broke out.) With all the extra money he’s been getting he was even able to afford some medical supplies. A lot of his customers(?) came in injured and he tried his best to patch them up but now he could do more than tie some ripped clothing around the wound and use ice to numb it. He’s got bandages. And pain killers. Plus other medical stuff. He can even give someone stickers now! All that experience as an injured vigilante was paying off. Even Villains and goons start attending this place. The place was unofficially designated as one of the Alley’s ‘safe zones’ where no fighting takes place inside (the body guards make sure of it.) the metas and Talons are getting an identity for themselves, the street kids even get a job and a hideout, random people can go there for help or to pass messages, this place provides food, shelter, and medical care. No one wants it going down.

So yeah, welcome to the restaurant!

(I’m debating whether I want this to be the weirdest restaurant/safe place/truce area in the alley, or whether I want Danny to accidentally become a crime lord. Possibly both.)

Also, this place is called the Restraint because I keep misspelling Restaurant and I think Danny would do the same so the name stuck. (Or one of the kids spelled it when making a sign or passing around messages to spread the word of this safe place.)

So anyways, to add some angst, after Danny adopts a bunch of crime alley kids/villains they find out about Danny’s powers and that he’s a ghost, only they don’t know about Halfas so they think Danny is fully dead and this super kind guy who has been the only person to ever treat them like people…died. He died likely a long time ago and there’s nothing any of them can do to change that.

(And if the GIW dare to come into the alley, they better be prepared for the entire place to turn on them.)

[lupinsweater]

Christmas Eve Will Find Me

James Potter x Latina!Reader 🎁 1.2k words

← part one part three →

⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆ ꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

You were frustrated.

Ever since your apartment complex had gotten a new postman in January, your mail had been getting mixed up. At the beginning, it had been a logical mistake. By now, though, you almost expected to see the name “James Potter” printed across the packages you had outside your door.

James lived in apartment 210- it was one of the nicer ones on your floor that had been newly remodeled. You lived in apartment 218 (which had not been newly renovated, and was much cheaper). James’ nice new apartment number had a fancy little slash through the 0, and your apartment number was falling apart- the middle of the 8 had chipped away, making it more like a 0.

You’d been leaving each other’s mail outside your doors, which worked fine, but it had been a nuisance, to say the least. Now that it was December, the thought of Christmas packages getting mixed up was just too much. Throwing on a jumper and grabbing the package you had received for James that morning, you marched down the stairs towards the front desk. If you could see your reflection, you were positive you would see steam coming out of your ears.

What happened next was fully your own fault. You had been known to have a one track mind, and today was certainly no exception. That’s how you found yourself slamming face first into a very handsome, very angry man.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, stumbling backwards and fumbling with the package in your hands. The handsome man’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he reached forward to grab your waist to stabilize you.

“I’m so sorry-”

“That was totally my fault-”

You both chuckled awkwardly, and he removed his hand from your waist, grinning sheepishly. He held it out to you as he said, “James Potter. I’m so sorry again.”

“Oh! James!” You said. He furrowed his brows in confusion, and you blushed, quickly amending, “Sorry. Our mail just keeps getting mixed up.” You reached out to shake his hand, giving him your name as you did so.

His eyes lit up in recognition. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a few letters with your name on them, and you handed him the package.

“Bit ridiculous that this keeps happening, isn’t it?” James chuckled awkwardly as you pocketed your mail. You groaned, despite yourself.

“Tell me about it. I was just heading down to the front desk to complain about it again. I’m not sure what more they can do about it, but it just needed to be said.”

“Oh, brilliant! I was just going to do the same thing,” James said, grinning brightly. His smile could have lit a whole room, and you could feel your cheeks flush. “Why don’t we go down together? Maybe it will be more effective that way.”

“Alright,” you said with a nod, smiling at him in a way you hoped wasn’t too awkward. The two of you made your way over to the elevator, and he followed you in, pressing the button for the lobby as he did so. You were grateful your apartments were only on the second floor- the elevator ride was only a bit uncomfortable. When you reached the ground floor, he gestured for you to exit first, and he followed you over to the front desk. James slipped around you, and leaned against the desk casually.

“Good morning, Mrs. Pince,” James said, winking at the older woman playfully. She hardly looked up from her computer as she replied.

“Mr. Potter. To what do I owe the immense pleasure?” she said dryly. James deflated slightly, and you bit back a laugh.

“Well, you see, it’s about my mail…” James started sheepishly. She looked up sharply from her computer, sighing impatiently at him.

“I’ve already told you, Mr. Potter, there’s not much more I can do. You could try waiting for the mailman, but he isn’t consistent with his delivery times. I’m afraid you might be out of luck.” She began typing again, clearly dismissing him.

“Please, Mrs. Pince,” you pleaded, pushing him out of the way slightly to come up to the desk as well. She looked up at you and sighed again, turning to face you with a glare that made you shrink into yourself. “This has been an issue since January. It’s December. Surely you can talk to the mailman when he comes tomorrow?”

“As I just said to Mr. Potter, there’s nothing else I can do for the two of you,” she repeated flatly, turning back to her computer. She pushed her glasses up her pointy nose as she said, “It seems the two of you know each other well enough, anyways. I can’t imagine it’s that much of an issue.”

You huffed, opening your mouth to yell at her, but James grabbed your arm quickly, giving you a warning glance and tugging you away from the desk. As he guided you back towards the elevator, you grumbled.

“What was that for? I was about to give her a piece of my mind,” you said, glaring at him. He just shook his head.

“Yelling at her won’t change anything, besides giving her a reason to try to get you evicted,” James said patiently. “Besides, she’s stubborn. If she refuses to talk to the mailman, then there’s nothing else we can do about it.” The elevator arrived again, and he nudged you inside, pressing the button to your floor.

“I hate that you’re right,” you mumbled, kicking at the elevator floor lamely. James smiled.

“Hey, it’s not so bad. At least we’ve met now- I don’t feel weird knocking on your door to give you your packages. I don’t want any Christmas things to get stolen.”

You nodded. “That was my biggest concern. Maybe I’ll try leaving notes on my door again, too. Not that it helped last time.”

James laughed. “Hey, I did that too. Maybe the mailman can’t read.”

You snorted unattractively, then clamped a hand over your mouth, wide-eyed. James raised an eyebrow, clearly fighting back a grin, and you felt your cheeks heat up again.

“Well, if we’re stuck with this mess, at least we can make the best of it,” he said, leaning casually against the elevator wall. His easy confidence was almost contagious, and you found yourself relaxing slightly. “I mean, it’s been eleven months of mixed-up mail. Maybe it’s the universe’s way of forcing us to be friends.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head in mock skepticism. “Friends, huh? I don’t even know what kind of mail you get, James Potter. For all I know, you could be ordering dodgy stuff off the internet.”

James feigned a look of scandalized offense, clutching his chest dramatically. “Dodgy stuff? I’ll have you know, I’m an upstanding citizen! My mail is nothing but perfectly respectable Christmas decorations, thank you very much.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine, and James grinned triumphantly. When the elevator doors opened again, you both stepped out and lingered in the hallway, neither of you in a hurry to leave.

“Well,” you said, clutching the mail in your hands, “I guess I’ll see you the next time the postman gets it wrong, which will probably be tomorrow.”

James sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “At this point, I feel like we should just swap keys so we can handle this ourselves.”

You laughed despite yourself. “Right, because that wouldn’t be weird at all.”

He smirked. “Okay, bad idea. But seriously, if this keeps up, maybe we should leave a complaint together. A united front might do the trick.

You shrugged. “We can try. Though judging by Mrs. Pince’s reaction just now, I’m not holding my breath.”

James nodded in agreement. “Fair point. I guess we’ll just keep playing mail roulette for now. At least it keeps things interesting.”

“Interesting isn’t the word I’d use,” you muttered.

He grinned, stepping back toward his apartment.

“Alright, well, see you at the next hand-off. Maybe next time we’ll get lucky, and the mailman will actually deliver things correctly for once.”

“Don’t jinx it,” you said with a small smile.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he called over his shoulder as he turned toward his door. “Have a good night!”

“You too,” you replied, heading back to your apartment.

As you stepped inside and set the mail down on the counter, you felt some of your earlier frustration ebb away. Sure, the constant mix-ups were annoying, but at least now there was a friendly face—and a pretty attractive one, at that—to go with the name on all those packages. Maybe dealing with the mail wasn’t going to be as much of a hassle as you’d thought.

[bloodyinkandquill]

phighting x reader christmas special

sup im in Honduras right now, so ill work on this intermittently, it’ll be… something i need to decide im thinking what each phighter’s christmas activities are and what they get you, yeah that’ll work, it’ll be in menu order btw

Sword:

He spends Christmas with his dad, and you’re invited! Venomshank has been alive a while but having a son to celebrate a holiday with is a new exciting experience to him, they have a lot of traditions surrounding it. Including having dinner together the night before, then Venomshank has to put out the presents at EXACTLY 11:59 because at EXACTLY midnight Sword come barreling towards the tree, it’s funny to witness, and definitely stems from when Sword was a kid. During the day itself after presents him and his dad cook an amazing breakfast together, they would probably ask what you want because they both cook each other their favorites and want to include you since you’re part of the family now.

I think Sword would definitely go with something super personalized, something that reminded him of you in some way. Or alternatively he’d also get you something rather cheesy and overly couple-y like matching sweaters that say something super over the top. He’s very sweet and loving about it and views Christmas as a family thing and you’re part of his family now!

Skateboard:

I imagine in Playground Christmas is more of a friends thing then family thing, so Skateboard hosts a big party with his friends and you! There is a lot of food and more drinks, it’s not like a crazy high energy party buts it’s also not a dinner party, he does his best to stay by your side since you’re his lover but he keeps getting distracted and running off to a friend calling him over or doing something crazy. But he reminds you how much he loves you and that he’s glad to be spending Christmas with you!

For gifts I think he’d get you something silly and fun, that makes you laugh and groan lightheartedly. I also think he’d get you your own skateboard or even maybe roller skates/blades so you can go skating around with him, he’s bashful about it saying it was just something random and you don’t have to or whatever- then one of his friends would put a mistletoe above you both with an eye roll and he’d blush but it’s a sweet and tender kiss.

Biograft:

Bro has the dictionary definition of Christmas and that’s it, so you have to teach him a lot about it. It starts to understand, not fully but he’s getting there. Its favorite part is all the lights, he thinks they’re really pretty. Since it doesn’t exactly have its own Christmas traditions he just participates in whatever you do. It might be tad awkward if it’s his first time meeting people who don’t understand it’s sentient so you might have to explain it a couple times. He mostly sits in the corner observing, or following you around like a fucking since it doesn’t understand just yet but you do so it’s the logical conclusion.

He gets you a gift late, it doesn’t realize he was supposed to get you something but then when it does he figures the logical conclusion would be to get it after Christmas because it would be cheaper anyways. I think he’d get you some sort of technology, maybe a new computer or handheld gaming console that it specifically modified to be linked to him so it can chat with you on it even if he isn’t nearby, and would make sure it’s your favorite colors.

Katana:

He’s sort of, withdrawn from Christmas, if it was his choice he’d stay home and treat it as any other day but with cafe trio and you, his plans have been foiled. Cafe trio invite you both to their apartment to spend Christmas with them. If you’re tempted to say no just remember Slingshot owns a bakery and baked so many different Christmas pastries for the event. You and Katana stay together the whole time but it’s still nice, the food is delicious and it smells AMAZING in that apartment. Katana doesn’t have great memories of Christmas due to his past but he’s willing to make new ones with you.

I think he’d get you a really nice (rather expensive) china set. And his favorite rare teas to go with it. When I say really nice set, I mean REALLY nice, probably one of a kind. He insists you do not need to get him anything but won’t fight if you want to get him something, he thanks you really sweetly and after you leave cafe trios place gives you a super sweet kiss where he can comfortably lift up his mask.

Ban Hammer:

Similar to Sword he spends Christmas with his momma, and again you are invited to join them! Their Christmas is a lot more chaotic, full of rough housing and the servants very nervously cooking a LOT of food. They eat a lot on Christmas and play fight even more, but there’s a lot of laughter and love in the house so all is well. Even if Windforce isn’t as affectionate towards you she snickers and pushes you against her son, maybe a little too hard but he catches you and his eyes are shining as he looks at you. (Pet peeve of mine he ONLY wears his blindfold during phights to challenge himself, STOP GIVING IT HIM WHEN HE ISNT SUPPOSED TO BE WEARING IT.)

As a gift he gets you front row tickets to your favorite band, and takes you out to a REALLY nice dinner, I’m talking probably a three month wait list. He also jokes that his gift is ‘his presence’ you jokingly smack some sense into him as he chuckles. Whatever you get him if it’s something he can he displays on his desk in his office, if not he gets a really good photo of you two and put that on his desk instead. It’s really sweet and probably lit up with candles behind you under the stars.

Rocket:

Again he goes to his dad’s house for Christmas, however he doesn’t spend Christmas eve night there, you and him just head over there in the morning. Zuka isn’t a great cook, Rocket’s even worse, so you settle for some basic pancakes with maybe chocolate chips if you’re feeling fancy. Then they do gifts after breakfast, they never make a big deal about it, Zuka grew up a soldier so not much time for festivities and Rocket was a street kid, so also not much time for festivities. So they don’t do too much, just enough that it feels like a special nice day but it’s not over the top. They think of it as just a nice day to relax and spend together and with you now, Zuka approves of you since you make Rocket happy so he gets you a little something, probably just some bux honestly.

Rocket gets you a big ass plushie, I imagine he has a lot of his own so he gets you one he thinks you’ll like, of some animal you like but huge, perfectly shaped for cuddling. He’d also get you a custom candle, colored and scented to your favorites with some stupid name that’s some sort of inside joke between you two. He also gives you a handmade coupon for a kiss, it’s so cheesy and honestly embarrassing that it’s cute, he’s a dork but he’s your dork.

Slingshot:

As mentioned him and the siblings host a small get together at their apartment, you and Katana are invited, he doesn’t go so it’s just you four. He asks you to come over the day before to help, or at least offer emotional support, as he bakes a lot of stuff for the next day. Gingerbread and other holiday treats galore. He asks what your favorite cookies are, if he doesn’t already know, and bakes a batch of those as well. If you don’t have any baking skills you just sit on a part of unused counter and maybe occasionally stir something for him. If you can bake you divvy up the work 50/50 and get to it, it’s a mess of pass the flour and where’s the butter but it’s fun and sweet. You and him make sure Vinestaff and Shuriken don’t enter the kitchen to mess the pastries up or to steal batter or cooling cookies. The next day you two are beat and just enjoy sitting together on the couch eating your hard work and watching Shuriken and Vinestaff bicker as usual.

For a gift Slingshot makes you ready to bake dough in a tupperware of your favorite cookies so you can make them at home super easily whenever you want them. He also gets you some cat themed trinkets, he really likes cats, freaking cat boy. (/silly) Shuriken and Vinestaff also get you something but it’s smaller and just a peace offering since you’re dating their boss, even if they have more of a sibling relationship with him anyways.

Hyperlaser:

He doesn’t really do Christmas, it’s not that celebrated in Blackrock and his job keeps him really busy, but he still tries and makes a time for you, if not on, around Christmas to have a night together. You just enjoy a simple home cooked meal at him place, making it together as Princess walks around your feet meowing for a piece of food. Get that you sit down together on his couch, snuggle up with a blanket and watch some movie, probably some action movie most Christmas movies are far too cheesy for Hyperlaser’s tastes. After you eat you exchange presents and split a small little cheesecake he bought. It’s nothing big but it’s so distinctly him that it makes you happy anyways.

As for the aforementioned present he doesn’t do anything much, just something small but meaningful, some sort of personalized trinket of sorts. Like if you go drinking with him and Katana he gets you a small bottle of your favorite drink and maybe a small but nice cup. Again nothing big since he is rather indifferent when it comes to Christmas.

Shuriken:

Once again, the cafe trio Christmas party. This time you’re helping him cause chaos, trying to steal pastries when Slingshot isn’t looking or doing little gag pranks to Vinestaff. Can’t forget pranking each other! You arrive a little after noon once the siblings have finished with their cheesy family time, all the baked goods have been prepared already so Vinestaff is in the kitchen working on the actual dinner so it’s just you and Shuriken at first doing random stuff since Slingshot is tired and Vinestaff is busy. Though between the chaos you have some sweet moments, Shuriken can be gentle and loving when he tries to, and he tries on Christmas.

I think gift wise he’d give you an unlimited free pass to Thieves rest, Slingshot objects but it’s more for show, he knows you won’t abuse it and you make his sudo-brother happy so oh well. He also gets you a shirt that says like a cringiest cheesiest thing, like something a middle aged mom would wear or one of those fake funny ones like ‘Christian dads against cool math games’ or whatever. You laugh and bomp him on the head since it’s so stupid but sweet still.

Scythe:

The church makes something special about Christmas, it’s a big ass event that seeing as Scythe is a very high ranking person in the church she busted her ass of planning and bossing people around for it. So once Christmas finally comes around she glad to finally have more time with you since she spent so long away from you working late hours preparing for it. After she says her greetings to whoever she needs to she immediately pulls you away to the side to make out with you, specially a special spot she planned out and put a mistletoe at as an excuse, and maybe to push some underlings under it for some entertainment. She also drinks quite a bit but she’s a heavyweight so at most she gets a bit tipsy, she’s just glad to have some time to take the edge off and wind down more.

Gifting she gets you some bigger more expensive gifts, most were probably stolen or taken from her assignments. She gets you a really fancy bottle of wine, expensive jewelry, all that kind of stuff, as well as a promise to spend at least a week straight with you after New years since right after this party she has to plan the new year’s party too, oh well at least you know soon enough she’ll spend time with you and probably spoil you as an apology for how long she was busy and away from you.

Medkit:

As mentioned the church treats Christmas as a big event, which he’s not as busy as Scythe but he still has to contribute to the planning and whatever, especially if anyone gets hurt. He views it more as a chore if anything, it was never that big of a thing in Blackrock and now he has to pretend to want to be at some dumb big party. Assuming you are not also in the church he returns home rather late at night and flops down on your bed with a groan. You exchange presents in the morning and go out for a simple easy brunch together. He’s not big on celebrating it but if you want to do something he won’t complain.

He doesn’t get you anything big, probably something pertaining to a hobby you might have, it’s just a smaller thing but it’s still sweet, he thinks gifts are pointless since they can be given anytime why put so much emphasis of these ones? But he will thank you for whatever you get him.

Boombox:

As mentioned I imagine in Playground Christmas is more a friends get together holiday, so you attend Skateboard’s party he hosts. You two stick together but as the night goes on Boombox gets rowdier and louder, but you’re used to the louder and calmer sides of him. Before the party he doesn’t do anything special you just meet up in the evening and go to Skateboard’s place together, unless you want to do something but he’d prefer to do it the day after since he prefers to only do stuff half the day, or so. But he won’t fight if you want to do something together that morning.

He makes you a specialized mixtape of all your favorite songs and songs that remind him of you, and to go with it a small portable music player to listen to it, sure could it have been easier to do like a spotify playlist on your phone? Yeah, but where’s the fun in that! He also gets you your favorite candies and chocolates to go with it.

Subspace:

As I’ve said like 20 times Christmas isn’t that big of a thing in Blackrock, it’s not contributing anything so why waste time celebrating? So being the head engineer for the Blackrock government means he doesn’t really do much about Christmas. However he does invite you to his lab, something he rarely does, and shows you something he made you, after that you leave and wait for him to return home, you have some hot cocoa and go to bed.

The something he made you was a personalized small Biograft, about the size of a Chigraft, specially engineered and designed to assist you with everyday life and have a programmed personality he thought you’d like, it’s also painted to be your favorite color instead of orange, unless orange is your favorite color. He lets you name it and tells you all the intricate details of how he customized it, even if you don’t understand any of the words he’s saying.

Vinestaff:

Once again, you go to the Christmas get together at her, Shuriken and Slingshot are hosting, it’s just you four since Katana declined. When you first arrive you help her ‘give gifts’ to all her plants, which entails giving them specialized fertilizer and watching as she fawns over all of them. Then you help her in cooking dinner, it’s nothing too fancy just some traditional Thieves Den dishes and maybe one or two bonus holiday additions. She’s not amazing at cooking but she’s at least better than her brother, who’s trying to prank you two as you cook unfortunately. After dinner though you all relax and exchange gifts it’s a sweet moment the air filled with laughter as she snuggles up against you.

She gets you a starter kit to grow your favorite flowers, a special bag of soil, a cute pot, and the seeds obviously. You may have to wait until it’s the proper growing weather for the flowers but it’s still a super sweet and thoughtful gift. She also gets you a spa set, amazing creams and lotions, all in your favorite scent, not to mention a nice neck pillow specifically for a bath.

Coil:

Again, Christmas in Playground is a friend’s holiday, so you go to Skateboard’s apartment for the party he hosts that both you and Coil were invited to. You arrive some of the first and watch as Coil jokes around with Skateboard as he sets out the last of the snacks and drinks, poking fun at him in a friendly way. The party doesn’t have a ton of people but still it’s not a small thing either, so you have people to chat with whenever Coil runs off to joke around or grab snacks. You probably crash at Skateboard’s place for the night since they’re best friends and have that permission, you wake up the next morning with a headache and glitter on your face you don’t know where it came from. But it was still a fun night with your lover.

I think he’d get you, oh man Coil is tough, stuff he stole from Blackrock nobles, like maybe jewelry, items from traveling, or even a fancy ass bottle of alcohol. Or maybe a gag gift, something funny and jokey that leads you to start play fighting, I’m honestly not so sure about him my apologies.

alright and that’s a wrap! that was fun to write, i’m currently at dinner i’m not at home i’m on a cruise waiting on my steak, today we hit honduras tomorrow we hit belize! it’s been fun and i got some art i needed to get done for my best friend done, we did an art exchange for christmas on top of the pins of empires season one characters, we’re matching roseblings! i’ll hopefully have the venomshank request done and posted soon, im hoping tomorrow at the latest, have a merry christmas everyone and would you guys like me to do the same thing but for any other characters? if so send a comment with the character but if you want to be anon send it on my personal account @inkcoveredmoon !!

unfortunately i do not know much about chanukah so i will not be doing a special for it, im not christian but we celebrate the christian holidays in my household

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for 🦄 behind the cut; “Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good!” (( chrono || non-chrono ))

They finish dinner quietly. Lynn hugs Tawky a little bit longer, so it takes them both a little longer to eat their shares, but Tawky obviously doesn’t mind and Billy definitely doesn’t. Lynn deserves all the hugs he wants, and also probably needs all the hugs he can get. Kids need lots of those. 

He guesses really most people do, but . . . yeah. Especially kids. 

Anyway. Billy doesn’t mind dinner taking a little longer, with how long it’s been since he had a real family dinner. And it’s Lynn’s first family dinner, even, so even if Billy did have a reason to mind it taking a little longer, he can’t figure out how that reason’d ever be important enough for him to be bothered by, compared to that. 

Lynn did a really good job cooking it all, too. 

After they all finish eating, Billy collects all three of their plates and takes them back to the kitchen to wash, and Lynn frowns a little like he doesn’t really know what to think about that. Billy told him he was gonna do it, so he figures it’s just like that thing where Lynn doesn’t really understand some stuff yet. 

Or just that Lynn didn’t believe he was gonna, maybe. 

Billy does the dishes and cleans up the pots and pans and stuff and puts away the leftovers. It looks like Batman didn’t buy them any tupperware, for some reason, but there’s plastic wrap so Billy just wraps up a plate with some and figures they can just get some tupperware when they go grocery shopping. Or just keep doing the plastic wrap, really, ‘cuz that’s probably cheaper anyway. Though the plates won’t stack or anything, and also maybe they’d be likelier to get broken? So . . . well, he’ll see how much the tupperware costs and they can go from there, he figures. 

He cleans up the whole kitchen the best he can, which is way less annoying to do when a foster parent isn’t yelling at him to do it and ten more chores before lights out and being a judgy asshole about how he does it all and– 

He cleans up the whole kitchen the best he can, and Lynn and Tawky stay in the living room together, both of them sitting together very still and very quiet. Lynn’s watching the static intently, clearly invested in . . . whatever about it he’s into, Billy guesses, and Tawky just seems politely–and understandably–lost on the whole thing, but he’s still sitting in Lynn’s lap and watching the static too. Lynn’s not hugging him anymore, really, but his hands are half-folded around his stomach and still holding him, so Billy thinks that might be kinda the same thing? Like, at this point, anyway? 

Well, it’s definitely an improvement on the technically-actually-a-chokehold thing, so he thinks Lynn’s doing pretty good so far. And like–either way, it’s good for Lynn to touch people or get touched, he figures. Touch-starvation is a thing, apparently. Like, with failure to thrive and all? That kind of thing?

[adhdduckie]

CATS AND WITCHES; sam winchester x fem!witch!reader

my masterlist

irl moots pls dni, i'll actually die if you mention this irl.

SOULMATESSSS

on the radio; at last by etta james

word count: 7.4k

synopsis; early seasons sam and dean were passing through a small town, where they see an ad about an unnatural disappearance of a girl, there were reports of large feline mammals around the victim's house before the disappearance, and the girl who disappeared mentioned having strange visions. sam and dean decide to check it out because of the large reward for any information. SOULMATESSSS

t.w; swearing, violence, supernatural stuff

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

sam has spent the last 3 days in the car, and he's bored out of his mind. the Winchester brothers had just finished a vampire hunt the week before, and were travelling around north of texas to find their father.

they were sitting in a small diner booth, going through some newspapers to see if there were any supernatural reports. sam was sipping a mug of some pretty bad coffee, but he had no other alternatives.

"here's one." dean says, turning around the newspaper he was looking at. sam sets down his coffee, picking it up and his eyes are caught by the red circle around the missing advert.

"the disappearance of a girl." sam reads aloud. he looks up from the paper, looking at dean with a raised eyebrow.

"keep reading." dean replies, nodding his head.

"reward of twelve thousand dollars if you can find her, and bring her home. come to * address, **** town, north texas for more information, regarding before her disappearance." he finishes.

dean whistles. "that's a lot of money. is she special or something? or is her family just rich?"

"how do we know it's a supernatural disappearance and not a kidnapping or something like that?" sam asks, setting the paper down as he speaks to dean.

"well, they wouldn't be offering such a large sum if it was a kidnapping. but it's probably worth checking out anyway, with that large of a sum. plus, i checked the map, it's only an hour's drive from here." dean replies, swallowing the rest of his breakfast.

"we could use the money anyway." dean says, as a way to convince sam.

"fine." is sam's response, and they both get up from their breakfast, throwing cash onto the table, before heading back to baby.

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

sam steps out of the car, looking up at the large mansion before him.

"damn." dean whistles, shutting baby's door.

"this better be worth our time." sam says as they stride towards the large mahogany door.

Sam noticed that the closer they got to your house, there was a pull at his stomach. Something seemed so familiar but so alienating at the same time. The closer he got, the stronger the pull in his stomach got as well. maybe it was something bad he had at the diner. he knew it looked way too suspicious for such a cheap meal.

Sam’s knocked out of his reverie, his hand clutching his abdomen as dean knocks quite aggressively, and a "coming!" is heard from the other side of the door.

seconds later, a small woman stands in front of the door, and dean and sam both have to crane their necks down to look at her properly. she's wearing a pair of old jeans and a large shirt, and she looks like your typical old auntie that you'd find at a market, bartering for cheaper prices.

"how can i help you?" she asks them.

dean holds up the newspaper advert, showing it to her. "we're here to hear more about the disappearance of a girl? we think we might be able to help." he responds.

the old auntie looks them up and down, sizing them up. she huffs, and opens the door further for both of them to come in. "My name is Miss jones. Would you like tea or coffee? Mrs. L/N will see you soon."

"coffee would be good, thanks." sam responds, and dean chimes the same. miss jones gestures towards one of the pristine white couches, as she goes to make the coffee, with a teeter in her step.

"mrs l/n! there's someone at the door who thinks they can help with Miss Y/n's disappearance." miss jones yells up the large swirling stairs, which are both dark and elegant.

"alright alright. I'll be down soon, make sure they're comfortable!" is the response from the top of the spiral staircase. The seemingly disembodied voice is regal and smooth, sounding as if it seems to curl around the brain.

the couch is plush and comfortable, the room is majestic and comforting, some soft classical music seems to slither into the room from a study, and there are loads of what they assume to be family pictures everywhere.

heels clack against marble staircases as a woman walks down the stairs, her eyes seeming to dim when they look at sam and dean.

"hello, my name is mrs l/n. I do hope that you're comfortable." she asks them, reaching out to sam and dean in a handshake. her hand is soft to the touch, but it's a very firm handshake.

mrs l/n sits in front of them both, her legs crossed over the other at the thigh. She's dressed in a smart suit and pants, as if she's ready for a photoshoot. ms jones comes in from the kitchen, placing down two hot mugs of the best smelling coffee in front of the boys, with a wide assortment of finger sandwiches.

sam and dean share a look, picking up a small sandwich each.

"we're sam and dean. we saw your advert in the paper, mrs. we thought we might be able to help. you see, we specialise in a sort of detective work." dean says, instantly switching on the charisma.

Mrs. L/N sighs. "at this point, i would accept anyone's help for this. the best P.Is we hired were unable to find anything." she pulls out a handkerchief from her suit front pocket, dabbing at her wet eyes, ever the picture of regality.

"i suppose you'd like to hear more about it, right?" She asks.

the boys both nod, picking up some more of the sandwiches. ms jones takes the already empty plate back to the kitchen, filling it up with more assortments for the boys.

"it started last month. my daughter, who i believe is about your age, maybe a couple years younger, she's twenty. a wonderful soul." she sobs, her regal and composed demeanour cracking before them.

the boys wait for her to compose herself before continuing.

"she came home from university, and she was so shaken up. it was easter break, so i was very excited to see her again. she only visits every school break, you know? she seemed so off. i asked her what was wrong, but she kept saying that she was fine, and she was just upset about not obtaining 100% on her end of term exam. i didn't believe her, of course, i could tell it was something more than that."

the boys lean forward, only subconsciously reaching for the delicious small finger sandwiches. mrs l/n cracks a small smile at that, and continues on.

"I persisted, and she finally told me that it was because she kept seeing things. she told me that one night when walking back to her apartment after a late class, she saw something out of the corner of her eye. She didn't think too much of it at first, before she realised it was a large feline. she said she didn't really react, as she was with a large group of her friends, and it was unlikely that it would attack. but every night that week, she said she saw it again.”

“on the final night before she came home, she saw it again while she was getting out of a cab after a night out with friends. she finally saw it properly. she described it as a dark hulking mass that seemed to be made entirely of shadows and horrors. she said she couldn't sleep that night."

at this, the brothers share an interesting look, like a demon or something. or perhaps a familiar of a witch that she had angered.

"She chalked it up to her inebriated state, but it kept eating at her. after she told me, she broke down in tears. i told her she was fine, and she didn't have to worry about it. she was safe in our house. you know, we've always believed in the paranormal, as her father was a very cautious man. we have salt and iron rock brigades in the walls of the house and the marble floors."

sam and dean look surprised at this, having a quick glance around the room. mrs l/n laughs. "i know. i found it silly at first, but my husband has had this house in his family for generations."

"that night when she finally came home, after telling me everything, she retired to her room. the next morning i had gone into her bedroom to look for her to tell her breakfast was ready, and she-" mrs l/n sobs.

"she?" sam supplies. dean's too busy stuffing his face with the plate of cakes that were just set in front of him.

"she wasn't there! there were scratch marks, so deep and etched as if there was something trying to ruin the walls." mrs l/n wails. flailing her arms about. "i'm so-" she hiccups. "i'm so sorry. i'm not usually like this. i miss my daughter, i'm so worried about her."

"we understand. we'll do everything we can to help you. is it possible for us to inspect the scratch marks, and also check out ms y/n's room?"

"of course." is mrs' l/n's response. "you both look so hungry, you must need a lot of food to help you. take up the cake plates with you. and if you want anything else, just yell for either miss jones or i. her room is the one on the third floor, with the flowers and vines on the door." she gives them a watery smile, picking up the plates from the table, holding it up to them.

"thank you mrs. l/n." sam and dean respond, taking the plates, standing up from the couch, as ms jones shows them the way.

'be careful. there's a dark energy in that room." Ms jones whispers to them, as they follow behind her teetering form as she hobbles up the stairs.

"oh don't worry, we're used to it." dean responds, as she points out the room to them, before hobbling back down the stairs to mrs. l/n.

"i hope the winchester brothers are careful." mrs l/n says to ms jones. "I wouldn't want john to get mad at me if they're horribly injured." she turns to the small woman beside her.

"they've grown quite big. especially sam. he's so much bigger now." mrs l/n states.

"why didn't you tell them you know them?" ms jones responds.

"they would probably ask me to tell them where john is, and i can't do that." mrs l/n sighs.

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

"mrs l/n is not as snobby as i expected her to be. she's quite nice." dean says to sam, as they stand outside of your room's door.

"i know. what do you think happened to her daughter?" sam asks as he pushes open your door.

dean takes in a deep breath at the sight before him.

"shit." he whispers out. "what happened here?"

your (normally) tidy room is in shambles. cupboards are on the floor, clothes spilling out of them. there's money strewn across the floor, making it look like a robbery scene. there's glass shards on the floor of your room, meaning your room has been broken into. which is strange, considering your room is on the third floor.

the only thing that makes it not look like a robbery and a kidnapping, is the deep scratches on the marble floor, in the solid walls, and in your bed bannisters.

"fuck, man." dean muffles out through a large bite of cake. "that's some really awesome cake." he says.

"seriously? shouldn't we focus on this instead?" sam says, rolling his eyes.

"i can eat cake at the same time."

sam sets down his plates, shrugging off his heavy bag full of iron salt and iron chains.

it seems as if your mother had left it the way she found it, to help with any investigations made into your disappearance.

sam walks closer to the large claw marks on your bed bannisters. the sheets are intact, and it seems like whatever took you woke you up from the glass shattering.

the sheets are a mess, and your pillow is on the floor. there's a bat beside your bed, which seems to be smeared with some blood on the handle.

"shit. what kind of princess has a bat beside her bed?" dean says, noticing Sam's gaze.

"her mom told us she was really freaked out. she probably put it there for her own protection." sam responds, rolling his eyes.

sam runs his fingers over the deep etches in the bedframe, pausing when he feels a pulse of energy.

"that's weird." he states absentmindedly to himself, not noticing dean standing behind him, still holding onto what must be his third plate of chocolate cake.

"what?" He mumbles around the cake.

sam turns his head, still crouching low as he runs his fingers to the next deep scratch. there's something pulling at him, so he follows it, but he stoops low to pick up his bag, beckoning dean behind him.

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

sam's followed it into a deep, dark forest. it's a couple of miles from your house, a large secluded forest.

dean complains about the temperature as he walks, but the deeper they go into the forest, the more they realise that something is wrong.

well, not wrong, but it feels, heavy. not temperature wise, but an aura that seems lonely and sad. it settles on the shoulders, causing the walk to get harder and slower.

dean's lugging the bags, complaining of the weight as he hobbles. He's still injured from their last hunt, and he's been slow and in pain recently.

a couple of branches snaps in the distance, and they both pause. It's not an animal. they're silent there on out, and walk towards the sound. The pull is getting stronger.

there's a figure hooded in the dark, and sam and dean share a look. what is it this time, a demon, a cold maiden or a wailing banshee?

the closer they get, they realise it's not any of the aforementioned. the figure is small, human-like. their hands are corporeal, foraging in the grass for herbs. the pull he feels is getting stronger. in sam's haste to get closer, to see what they're looking at, he steps on a branch, and it cracks loudly.

In the forest, you’ve been foraging, the entire day, you had been feeling a light tug on your stomach, and you just thought it was because your familiar had been away. You had been feeling a pull in your stomach, but just as the branch cracks, it gets stronger. your head shoots up, and you freeze.

what you first think you see is a moose, but the longer you look, it's a pair of two boys. the one who's startled you is taller than the other, and he's the one that you thought was a moose. but what scares you the most is the fact they're both carrying two large heavy bags, not knowing what they might hold inside. so you do the first thing that comes to your mind, you run.

sam recognizes you from the images, and just as he realises the look in your eyes is fear, it's too late. you're already running.

sam sprints after you, wanting to talk and understand why you've seemed to stage your own abduction, but when dean catches up to sam, he tells him to stop, and the more he chases, the more likely you're to run.

"why is she here? why is she okay?" sam asks dean. dean just shrugs, and thinks for a second.

"she was probably sick of her home life or something." dean finally responds, picking up the bags that sam had dropped. dean frowns before finishing. "but you said that you felt a pulse of dark energy, right?"

sam nods in response. curiosity gets the best of him, and he wants to know why you were running. and for the large bounty, they have to bring you back.

they follow the pull that sam feels, the force pulling him closer to you.

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

"what. the fuck." you're thinking as you sprint through the forest. you're wondering how they found you, and what were they going to do to you?

you make it back to the small cottage you found in the woods years ago, having made it more habitable as time had passed.

slamming the door behind you, you lean against it, sliding down until you're sitting.

"fuck. who were they?" you ask yourself, praying that they won't be coming after you.

you stand, setting down the basket you had used to collect the mushrooms on the sink, petting the maine coon that sits next to you, he purrs, rubbing his head against your hand, you’re glad that he’s back.

suddenly, you hear the front door creak open, and the moose boy and what seems to be his brother now that you have had a proper look, are standing there.

you freeze, standing up and immediately picking up the large knife on the counter. "what do you want?" you demand, brandishing it at them.

the moose boy, who's broad and tall, drops the bags they were carrying on the threshold of your house. his hands, which are large like the rest of him, are held up in a sign of surrender, a sign that they weren't going to hurt you.

"we don't wanna hurt you. we just wanna talk." he says to you. his voice is deep, and if he wasn't a total stranger who barged into your house, you'd describe it as soothing.

"the fuck you mean you wanna talk? who are you? how did you find me?" you grumble, whirring the knife around and around your hand.

dean laughs, scoffing a little. "she's not as princess as I thought. How is she mrs. l/n's daughter?" he says to sam.

you overhear him, pausing. "what do you mean? how do you know my mother?" you demand, holding the knife further up.

"she's the one who hired us to find you. she thinks you've been taken." sam states slowly, approaching you as if you're an easily startled deer.

you lower your knife, setting it down. you'll trust these boys for now. they don't seem so bad. your maine coon, ares, however, disagrees. he snarls, shifting into his larger form. he's the size of a tiger in that form. the whiteness of his fur melting into a dark, staticky one.

dean lets out a yell in surprise, and hits sam in the face. the whisps of darkness of ares's fur are tinted with a red, and they float towards you.

"no! ares. stop." you demand, and he turns his head to your side, baring his teeth. "it's fine for now." you state.

dean and sam know what you are now. a witch, with a rare familiar. "fuck." sam whispers. "yeah." dean agrees.

ares snarls again, before shifting back into his original form.

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

a few minutes later, your door is closed, and the three of you are settled around your small kitchen, steaming cups of herbal tea set up in all of their hands.

your mug is small in sam's hand, and it would be funny how out of place he looks in the small hut if you weren't so worried. he really does remind you of a moose.

"okay, moose. tell me everything." you state, pointing at sam.

"first of all, moose? what the hell is that?" he asks, bewildered. dean laughs, smacking him on the back.

"i dunno. you remind me of one." you shrug, but you point at him again.

"okay, your mom hired us to look for you since she's super worried. you just up and disappeared. " dean interjects.

"but the real question is, what the hell are you doing?" sam finishes.

you let out a deep sigh. In the last couple of days, you've felt so stressed about this. whatever these powers are, they're so annoying. what have you done to deserve this?

"the cat you saw, ares, he's supposed to be my familiar." you tell them everything, about how your powers manifested, how ares had found you to help you control your powers better, how you ran away because you were scared of hurting your friends and your loved ones.

"ares did the scratching for me, in the wood. he broke the glass for me, to make it look like a burglary. i did my best." you finish, and you're feeling tears well up in your eyes.

"hey." sam soothes you, resting a hand on your shoulder. his palm is warm and heavy, and you briefly wonder what it would be like to hold it.

"i'm learning to control my powers too, we should work together." he suggest and dean sends him a funny look.

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

your mom cries and hugs when she sees you, and gives the money that was promised to the two boys.

"why did you leave?" she begs you for answer, her arms still wrapped around you.

dean and sam, you now know their names, are sat on your couch again, eating some food.

"i was scared. I didn't want to hurt you." you tell her, mumbling into her hair.

"you could never. I should have warned you that it was coming." your mom tells you, patting your head softly. this gets everyone's attention.

"you knew?" sam, dean and you all say at the same time. you catch the eyes of sam, and he smiles at you supportively. Is it weird that it's supportive, even though you've only known him a couple hours?

"yeah. it's been passed down through generations, but it skipped me." she shrugs, telling everyone. "it's funny, because when we were younger, john-" she slaps a hand over her own mouth.

"fuck." she whispers out, but it's muffled.

"you knew our father?" sam asks your mum, standing up from his seat. she sighs, and shakes her head.

"i knew him, but i don't know where he is." she says sadly.

your mom tells you all of how she grew up with him, and that they were neighbours. Her father and john’s, were good friends. You even spent some time with sam and dean when you were younger, but just didn’t remember as you were too young.

Everyone nods in understanding, and you finally feel better.

“Mom?” you ask quietly, dragging her to the side. Unknown to you, sam’s watching you with a small smile, but dean notices.

“You whipped already, moose?” dean teases sam. “What-? No.” sam responds, but he feels his face heat up.

“I’m just wondering what led me to her before.” he says, trying to change the topic.

“Who knows. You could be soulmates.” dean jokes, thinking about their shared demon blood.

“Maybe.” he mumbles halfheartedly, not really listening.

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

“Mum?” you ask as you pull your mom to the side to talk to her.

“Yes, sweetheart?” she responds.

“Uhm, i want to go with them.” you say.

“What?” your mom panics. “Are you sure? It’s not going to be safe.” she says.

“I know. But i want to learn how to control the powers properly. There are some things I want to learn, some things i need to see that if i don’t leave, i’ll never see.” you tell her, trying your best to convince her.

“I see.” she responds. She’s got her poker face on, the one that won her 10 thousand dollars at a casino in las vegas when you were 11. You don’t know what she’s going to say, but you hope that she’ll let you go. “What’s something you want to learn?” she finally asks you.

You stare at her in bewilderment, your ears reddening before you speak. “Before sam and dean found me, i felt this pull in my stomach. I feel it now, and it only seems to be slacker when i’m with the two of them. I want to learn what that is.”

Your mom laughs so hard, she ends up wiping tears from her eyes. “I see.” she wheezes.

“What?” you ask her.

“Nothing, nothing. You’ll figure it out eventually.” she says, giggling to herself again.

You groan, “but can i go? I want your blessing.” you beg.

“Yes you can. But you must be safe, and remember to call me at least once a week, so that i know you’re still alive and safe. I’ll kill the both of them if they even let you get hurt.” she says, threatening loud enough that sam and dean stop whispering between themselves enough to look up at you both.

Sam’s got a sheepish grin on his face, and dean’s got a smirk, as if he’s saying that he knows something you don’t.

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

The next year is a mess.

You spend all of your time with the boys, getting close enough to both of them to consider them both your best friends.

Dean’s like a brother to you. And Sam, well sam-… he’s different.

Everytime you see him, you can’t help but smile. Every room he’s in with you seems brighter than it was before he went in, and you love every single second of your life that you spend with him.

The bond isn’t so strong when you’re together, but it’s only quiet when you’re touching him. If it’s hands pressed together, his arm resting on your shoulder, you tucked into his side, as long as you’re touching, it’s restful.

It’s hard sometimes, the life of a hunter. Your witch abilities help them on the hunt, and the added protection of ares is really good too.

You’re in a pickle, a couple of times. The work is dangerous, and not many make it to an older age.

This last hunting trip is going to kill you, you decide as soon as dean describes what’s going on.

A small rickety sports bar has been popping up all over the country, a popular couple’s bar named ‘hearts aligned.’ the story is that everytime a couple walks in, the chances are that the couples don’t come back out.

It seems to be this strangeness that is attracting all these couples to keep coming anyway. It’s ridiculous how people think that it’s cool because of that, and instead of staying away, they keep coming back.

So this is what leads you to now. Your smaller hand wrapped around sam’s larger one, as you entered the bar. you swear you can hear dean sniggering miles away back at the hotel rooms at the mere thought of your forced proximity with his baby brother.

Of course, dean found out that you liked sam, he became annoying to the point where he found numerous excuses for why he couldn’t do hunts, preferring to stay at the bunker than go out.

“Oh, my back hurts. Since you’re younger, you and moose can go do this one.” he’ll say, as he pushes you and sam out the door. He always sends you a wink.

Moose has now become a nickname for sam. It wasn’t on purpose, no matter how many times sam accuses you of finding the least suitable nickname for him.

Sam and you, wrapped up together as you wait in the lobby of the bar. The smell of sweat and love hangs heavy in the air, sticking to your skin like honey.

You don’t like it. You don’t like how natural it feels to be tucked into sam’s side, his hand resting on your waist. You don’t like how it feels so natural that he’s pressing light kisses to your hairline, like you’re something precious that he’s afraid to be away from for even a second.

You really hate how he’s playing the role of an affectionate boyfriend so well, and you know as soon as this is over, you’re never going to be able to get over it. You’re gonna get addicted if this keeps going on.

Not to mention, you hate how because of your short dress, you're cold, and somehow without you even saying anything, Sam's noticed. You didn’t even say anything, and he wrapped himself around you with the sole goal to warm you up.

And it works, he does. The body heat he emits is more than enough to warm you up, without being too warm. His hand, resting on your hip, is warm even through the fabric of your dress.

And most of all, you hate how the pull that you’ve felt in the pit of your stomach that’s been there since you’ve met the brothers, isn’t tight, for once. It feels as if that the closer you are to him, the more relaxed you feel.

“You okay?” sam whispers into your ear, playing the role of the beloved concerned boyfriend well. You shiver slightly, the warmth of his voice does that to you. It’s impressive how as soon as you feel the slightest bit off, that he notices. It’s as if he’s fine tuned himself into all the subtle shifts of your moods.

“Yeah.” you whisper in response. He does notice the shiver, but he chalks it up to the aircon vent blowing cold air at your back. He moves so that he’s in the way of the aircon’s cold blast, his warm front pressing into your back.

You let out a small huff of air, comfortable with his proximity and his warmth. “How long do you think this’ll take, moose? I’m getting tired.” You whisper to him, the music strangely quiet for a bar. To make sure he hears you better, you turn your face to him, bringing your lips closer to his ear.

He fights a difficult battle, trying everything in his willpower not to blush. That damn nickname, you… Everything, it’s killing him. “Dunno, shouldn’t be that much longer.” he responds in what he hopes is a confident, strong tone.

The longer you stay at the bar, the quieter it gets. Some couples leave giggling and laughing, dragging their partner’s hand with a mischievous smile.

You feel the bar getting colder, and a quick glance at the thermostat proves you right. “Anytime now.” he whispers again.

Suddenly, there’s a guttural screech, and the rest of the bar goers flee the premises, leaving you and sam alone in the bar. He steps away from you, pulling out the revolver supplied with rock salt, and bares it at the source of the screech.

As you unclasp the thigh guard, you pull out your own gun, similar to his. It was a gift from him on your birthday, engraved with your initials and a small cat.

You point it where sam is pointing his gun. You feel goosebumps raising on your arms, the hairs standing up as you hear a little scuttle. If you weren’t so fine tuned into sam, you wouldn’t have noticed how the hairs on the back on his neck stick up as well.

You want to smooth them down, but it really isn’t the time for that.

The scuttling gets louder, the sound of nails on a blackboard screeches through the bar as the music abruptly stops. The screeching gets louder, scuttling like a beetle as it gets closer, so loud that you think it’s right next to you, but you can’t see anything at all.

You pause, feeling your heart momentarily stop. Slowly craning your neck up to the ceiling, you almost scream. A year into the business, and you’re still not prepared.

▷ —-------------------- (crack)

The sound of the chair being knocked over as you scramble away from- from- whatever that thing is.

It’s got long dark hair, which is dangling. A feminine shape, with a covered face, but you can feel eyes staring at you with a glowering menace even without seeing it. Even no longer directly below it, you can feel it staring at you.

Sam gets in a protective stance, blocking its view of you by stepping in front of it.

‘Well…what have we click click here?” it rasps, voice disoriented and deep, clicking, sounding at the back of its dry throat, reminding you of the sounds the velociraptors in Jurassic world made.

You raise the gun, pointing it right between where the eyes would be on a normal person. Sam reaches out behind him, just checking to see if you’re behind him still, making sure you’re still safe.

“awww. such a cute hunter couple.” it snarls, dropping from the ceiling. its bones crack as it moves, body bending backwards as it stalks towards you.

suddenly it pauses. “you don't see that often, anymore.” it mumbles to itself, one grotesque finger drawing a line connecting the two of you, and the next thing you know, you're thrown together against the wall as it stalks closer.

“fuck.” sam groans as his back hits the wall, and you let out a hiss of pain, tied to his chest as you flail around, trying to move.

something invisible is pinning you in place. you're embarrassed to say that even in such a dangerous position, your heart is thumping aggressively in your chest, practically bursting out.

the thing is drawing close, and it's enough to get you to snap out of your reverie, and you remember that it's neither the time nor the place for this.

“Hmm. soulmates? So rare. You both can’t be human then.” it grumbles, its finger bending back with an unnatural crack.

‘What the fuck.’ you’re thinking as you both are struggling. Using your powers, you send a blast, making the thing fall back, scuttling its old bones as it regains its stance, prowling towards you.

In the time that it loses its balance, you and sam find yours. He pulls you up to his feet quickly, retrieving both of your guns as he points it at the thing, his other hand behind him, ensuring that you’re behind him.

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

In the end, you end up taking it out, sending it back to a demon dimension, and dragging your sorry asses back to your hotel rooms, where dean, is lying comfortably on the bed, with a beer in his hand.

You glare at him, beaten up and bloody, cuts all over your face from falling face first into a window. You’ve healed all the serious injuries, but don’t have enough energy to do the rest.

“I take it went well?” dean asks smugly, stretching out his limbs as if he’s done anything remotely productive. (spoiler alert. He hasn’t. He’s just gotten back from the bar)

“She was an elder-being. Thanks for the warning, dean.” sam growls, eyebrows furrowed as he hobbles over to lie on the bed.

“Hey! Don’t get the bedsheets bloody, we’ll be charged more.” you say, hitting him lightly, wincing when you hear him let out a hiss of pain.

“Shit.” sam whimpers, holding his arm, slightly above the slash in his arm. It’s not bleeding heavily anymore, but you bet it’s painful as hell, especially with those long ass nails raking at him.

“I’m sorry!! I didn’t mean to. Wait, I'll help patch you up. ” you tell him pushing him down so he sits on the edge of his bed in dean and his’ room.

Dean lets out a grunt as he jumps to his feet, already having enough of whatever flirting will happen soon.

“Right, i’m heading down to the bar, gonna check out the ladies.” he says, striding over to the door.

“Weren’t you just at the bar?” you ask him with a raised brow.

“Yeah, but they’re probably already missing me.” he responds, winking at ya. You can hear sam groaning slightly from the pain, turning your eyes away from dean to watch sam, you hear the door click closed behind you

You roll your eyes, pulling out the medical kit to pay attention to how injured sam might be.

“That was really stupid of you, moose. Jumping out a window?” you chastise him, a worried furrow in your brows as you pull out the necessary ointments.

Sam stares at you, his fingers itching at his side, wanting to smooth out the furrow in your brows. He thinks about what the demon thing said, and wants to talk about it, but he wants you to be comfortable first.

“Are you injured anywhere?” he asks, his hand reaching up and doing what he wants. His touch is gentle and soft, and even as he smooths the furrow out of your brow, his thumb lingers, before he pulls back. You miss his touch instantly, skin tingling where his thumb rested.

“Just a couple of scratches. Nothing as serious as your arm.” you respond, grimacing slightly as you really look at his cut.

“Yeah, but i’m still worried about you.” he responds, frowning.

“Don’t. Be more worried about yourself, since you’re the one in pain right now.” you chastise him, trying to pull the edges of his shirt away from the cut, letting out a sigh when he

“You gotta take off your overshirt, sam. I don’t wanna have the fabric sticking to the cut, or infecting it.” you tell him, stepping back while you wait for him to do as you ask.

He winces as he pulls it over his head, his white undershirt stained from the blood only on one side.

“You see? And you’re still telling me that you’re worried about me.” you say, pointing to the cut.

As you end up cleaning it up first, you’re in a comfortable silence. You keep thinking about the eldritch woman, and what she said about a soulmate bond. It would make a lot of sense, how for all this time, you’ve always been drawn to him.

Not just physically, but what seems to be mentally too, you notice all of his quirks, his hobbies, his preferences, and what he would deem his faults. They’re not faults to you, they’re just him, and you love him.

Unknown to you, he’s thinking the same. Maybe not to the same extent of what you're thinking, but to a similar extent. He’s curious about what happened, and he wants to know more, to know if you feel the same pull he does.

You end up stitching the rest of his cut up, and when you’re done, you collapse onto the bed in exhaustion. Letting out a deep, tired sigh, you throw your arm over your eyes, blocking out the light.

Sam’s still sitting on the edge of his bed, but he’s turned to stare at you. He watches the way your chest rises and falls with each breath you take, and even with the sound of music drifting into the room from the bar downstairs, he can hear the little puffs of air you let out.

He calls your name, and you shift your arm upwards, resting against your forehead as you stare down at him.

“Yeah?” you ask.

“..what do you think she meant about the soulmate bond?” sam asks. He’s probably the most nervous he’s ever been right now, but it’s a kind of nervousness that is elating, making his heart race in his chest.

You blink at him, just assuming that that was just going to be something else swept under the carpet of your friendship if you didn’t bring it up. Like lingering stares, touches that are wayyyy too long to just be friendly, and the way he’s just too fine tuned into you.

“Uh. Maybe what it quite literally means?” You finish, trying not to show just exactly how terrified you are right now, since this is a topic you thought you’d never talk about. Like how dean really really needs a love life, not just one night stands.

Sam can’t help but roll his eyes, and he feels slightly less stressed about bringing this topic up now, since you sound to him as if you’ve been thinking about it too.

You really want to talk about it, but you really don’t want to sound too desperate.

“You know that’s not what I mean, y/n.” he tells you, shifting so that his legs are no longer hanging off the edge of the bed, and he’s looking right at you. His arm is tender, and the little movement is enough to make him wince.

Sitting up to look at him properly, you sigh. You don’t know what to say, really.

“Do you feel it?” he asks, shyly. “The soulmate bond?” He thinks of all the times he’s even thought that you might have reciprocate his feelings, and he thinks he has a solid chance right now.

You don’t think you’re gonna get rejected, but it’s still slightly unnerving to bring something as serious as this up, because if it doesn’t work out, your entire dynamic will be destroyed, and you will not only lose the love of your life, but your best friend, and in the process, you could lose dean, too.

“Yeah. i just didn’t know what it was before.” you tell him, scratching the back of your neck nervously, wincing when you scratch at a injury you didn’t notice before.

Sam lightens up obviously, the physical embodiment of puppy eyes. He looks at you now, and he laughs.

“What?” you ask him, slightly nervous.

“I feel it too, you know?” he tells you. “I felt it that day in the woods, i felt it when you left my side for even a moment, I felt it when we were together. I just thought it was some kind of overattachment to you.”

This makes you laugh, and he pulls you closer by your arm.

“I felt it in the woods, that day when I thought you were a moose, I felt it when I sat in the passenger seat of baby, I felt it when you were injured in the hospital.” you respond, thinking of all the times where the bond vexed you, and made you happy.

Sam stares down at you, pulling you into his side properly. You’re tucked into under his arm as he presses a chaste kiss to the tips of your fingers, to the palm of your hand, your forearm, as he slowly makes his way up to your face.

In between each kiss, he whispers out to you; “I've felt you everywhere in my life since the first day I met you. In my head, my lungs, in my space. You are the air I breathe, and without you, I'm scared I’ll die.”

he pauses when he reaches your jaw, pausing, giving you time to push him away if you don’t want this.

“yeah? “ you respond smugly, gloating now that you’re aware of just how much you affect him. You’re breathless, waiting for the kiss that you feel you’ve been missing your entire life.

This is the only moment that matters, the part where you finally come together. With that, he kisses you. The kiss is sweet and soft, a promise of more to come.

He pulls back, forehead resting against yours and your breaths mingle together, but it isn’t enough. You need more for all the times you’ve been afraid he’s hurt or worse, dead.

You pull him closer by the collar of his undershirt, and kiss him. You kiss him like crazy, and he reciprocates, kissing you harder. This kiss is everything you’ve lost, come back to you.

When you finally pull apart, you’re giggling, and he chuckles, pressing another chaste kiss to your forehead, whispering how much he loves you.

You fall asleep entangled together, ankles crossed over his as he rests his arm over your waist, your head tucked between his neck and his shoulder.

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

Dean comes back from the bar, switching on the light of the room, and he quite literally does a double take when he sees the two of you entangled together, even in sleep.

He does everything in his power not to wake you up with screams of “i knew it” and “it’s about damn time”. He’s happy to see his brother so content, even in sleep, there’s a smile on sam’s face.

Dean pulls out his phone, sending a quick text to mrs l/n; who’s number he got to stay in touch with updates of his father.

‘You owe me ten bucks.’ he types out.

The screen lights up with a response from mrs l/n.

‘What!? Already? I thought it would be later.’ is the reply, and he laughs at that.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 16

Jason Todd + leather or Latex

I had like, no ideas what to do with this prompt ngl, so I just kinda went with whatever came to me when writing.

Crime lord Red Hood has always had a special place in my heart

Kinktober 2023 masterlist.

Working for The Red Hood wasn’t too bad, especially compared to the other rogues you’d had to work for in the past. With Hood you didn’t have to fear suddenly being shot because Two-face suddenly felt like it, or being eaten by whatever plants Ivy had conjured up, or answering whatever riddles the Riddler came up with that day.

Best part was probably the uniform though. All rogues put their people in specific clothes. For the joker it was clown masks and all that junk, Riddler wanted you in stuff with question mark print, penguin wanted you well dressed in suit and tie, the list went on. For Hood just wearing red seemed to be enough. Most seemed to just resort to wearing a red hoodie under their jacket, and that was enough.

Interestingly enough, working for Hood also came with some benefits, like being allowed to keep stuff from different conflicts as long as it didn’t cause issues for Hood. That was where you found your first leather, some rich guy from Metropolis tried to set up in Gotham and was quickly dealt with. If Gotham hated anyone more than each other, it was outsiders trying to barge in and make a name for themselves.

The guy had been wearing a sturdy but not too flashy leather jacket, so after checking the pockets and for bullet holes and seeing it in one piece, you tucked it over your arm and brought it home. You had to cut the tags out and changed the inner fabric to something cheaper, and most importantly, into something red, but the quality was no lie.

You realized you might have had a thing for Leather one night when you had needed to go out for some small run for Hood, and you’d been too tired and lazy to put on a shirt. You ended up going out in a pair of low waisted denim pants, some well worn boots, and your jacket. No one batted an eye, at all, seeing a shirtless guy was far from the weirdest shit in Gotham, but the feel of leather on your skin seemed to have lit something inside you.

After that you might have subconsciously started looking for the stuff whenever you went on raids or into fights for Hood and his territory. Who cared if you stole some hotshot from star cities leather west and hat, or that guy from Texas whose black leather boots you stole right off his feet. You didn’t touch the pants though, even though you really really wanted too, you just didn’t trust them not to be contaminated by all kinds of junk.

You honestly thought you hid it pretty well, your draw to leather that is. Everyone had their thing, and you always wearing your jacket and boots was just something you did. If you went home to get dressed all the way down to just your jacket and boots though to jerk off was another thing entirely.

But it seemed your draw to the last targets pants hadn’t gone fully unnoticed by your boss. Imagine your surprise when he shoved a package into your arms one night and told you to only check it when you got home, the modulator of his helmet making him seem way more serious than he probably was.

You wouldn’t say you were outright friends with Hood, no one could really be friends with their boss in the criminal world, but you cracked jokes with the guy and even got him to laugh on the regular. You patched him up when he needed it, and he dragged you to Leslie’s clinic when you got knocked around a bit too hard, which happened more than you liked to admit.

When you got home you had almost assumed that the package would hold weapons or maybe even drugs, even though Hood didn’t personally deal the stuff. But instead, you found what you immediately noticed was leather, a card placed on top of the neatly folded leather. The letter was in Hoods writing, and you felt your face heat up a tad at the words on the page.

“Next time just let me buy it for you instead of stealing it off bodies” it said, and when you unfolded the leather, you felt your insides flutter. It was pants, they seemed even better quality than the ones you had been eying the night before. But it wasn’t just pants, there was a newer jacket, it was brown and heavy and was very well worn, and when you held it out in front of you, you could see it was one of Hoods own jackets.

You could feel blood running downwards, leaving you fumbling with your clothes as you got undressed, feeling almost desperate to pull the pants up your legs and hips. They were tight, but not too tight, and there was no question about the quality. Your original jacket fell to the ground with a heavy thud, your fingers quickly grabbing the heavy well-loved leather of the brown jacket and pulling it on, a shaky breath leaving you as the smell that was so clearly Hood filled your senses.

It smelled like leather, gun oil, the cigarettes he smoked when he was annoyed or on edge, and something undeniably Hood, and it had you tenting your new pants. Or tenting as well as one could in leather, which meant it was more a visible bulge running down the inside of your thigh. It had felt so good on your skin that you had found yourself grinding against your hand on your couch like some inexperienced fool. Your back had arched off the couch as you stained the inside of your pants, the leather growing slick against you as you groaned.

It was only later when cleaning the leather that you noticed the writing in the waistband, near the back so it would sit near the bottom of your spine. “Red Hood” it said, like some kind of statement of ownership, and you had shivered and exhaled shakily, rubbing a hand over your face to dispel the thoughts it awoke in your body.

Next time you saw Hood you had worn the pants, but the jacket was left at home. The worn jacket didn’t go well with the newer shinier leather of the pants, so it was your normal jacket and boots, which had some of your friends joke a bit about you being some kind of leather daddy because of your interest in the stuff. You had let the jokes run off your back, joking along every now and then.

You hadn’t even noticed Hood being there until he had appeared behind you, his gloved hand grabbing your ass and giving it a squeeze. Youd almost snapped around and decked him, assuming it was someone else, that was until you heard his modulated voice. “You’re wearing my gift. You like it?” he purred obviously enough that you could hear it even through the voice changer.

You could feel your skin growing clammy as you gave a small nod, not even daring to look at hood as he pressed his crotch against your back, his erection obvious even through all your shared layers. “Good, you look so hot in it” he rumbled, giving your thighs an extra squeeze before he stepped back and wandered off, leaving you unsteady on your feet as you tried to force the obvious hard shape in your pants away, for once cursing how tight they were.

It continued on this way for a while, Hood leaving you presents, and you would wear them around his headquarters. It was never expensive or high quality enough for anyone to target you, but Hood seemed to enjoy it very much. It felt almost like having a sugar daddy or some kind, but he had never demanded much sugar, only grabbing your ass at times, or rubbing his hands up and down your torso that time you’d worn a leather shirt under your jacket.

He was a tease, and you could hear the shit eating grin through his helmet as you ground against his thick thigh one day. You felt so wound up from his lingering touches that you had found yourself in his office one day, or what you guys called his office anyways. Maybe you wanted a fight of some kind, you weren’t sure, but one thing led to another, and you pinned up against the wall, his thigh between your own.

And now you were grinding against his thigh like some kind of pervert, your fingers digging into the worn leather of his jacket as you gasped into his shoulder. You didn’t even notice as he pulled off his gloves or spat on his fingers, it was only when one of his hands was shoved down the back of your leather pants and between your cheeks that you realised. A groan left you as he rubbed the pad of his finger against your pucker, his voice cocky as he asked if this was what you wanted.

You tried to glare at him, but it only seemed to fuel him more as Hood pushed his finger inside, letting you adjust before he started moving to the best of his ability, your tight pants not leaving much room to move his wrist. The stimulation was driving you crazy, the tight leather of your pants doing nothing to lessen the experience as you ground forwards into his thigh, before you pushed back onto his hand.

Running your hands down his torso and up his shirt, you could keep the moan from leaving you as you felt something too smooth and slick to be leather. It was Latex, he was wearing a latex shirt under everything else, maybe it was even a full body thing as it continued as you thumbed at the waistband of his pants.

Your exploring just seemed to fuel him more as Hood added not just a second but a third finger at the same time, letting you just barely adjust to the stretch before he started moving his hand once more, causing you to grind harder against his thigh.

It was impossible to fight back the orgasm that rocked through you, thoroughly slicking up the crotch area of your leather pants as there was no fabric to soak it up, letting it splatter against your thighs and lower body. You could feel yourself twitch a bit as Hood removed his fingers, instead grabbing onto your hips and lifting you up, making your legs wrap around his waist.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to ask what he was up too as he walked backwards, plopping down on his chair with you in his lap, sighing softly as he started rubbing his hands up your torso, flicking your chest through the leather shirt you had chosen to wear. “You alright baby?” he asked, voice warm and caring, leaving you feeling all types of mushy.

You just scoffed and leaned forwards, resting against his broad shoulders and coiling your arms around him. Hood rubbed your back for a while before rolling his chair close to his desk, the taping of keys letting you know he was working on one thing or the other. In the end you found yourself with both your hands up his shirt, rubbing at his latex covered torso as you rocked lazily against his thigh, no hurry in your movements as you knew you had all night, and it would happen soon if the twitching bulge between Hoods thighs meant anything.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part Two

Part One

Eddie sits in his van, and he cries about it. He cries so much the already tangled mess of yarn in his hands becomes nothing but a colourful blur. He knows a lot of this is hormones; his neglected Omega falling further and further into depression.

If he neglects his Omega much more, another heat spent alone might actually kill him. Eddie vaguely recognises he's far enough gone that simply not waking up one day sounds kind of nice.

He bought the most expensive yarn he could afford. He knew it wasn't good enough for a pups blanket, but he just couldn't afford the nicer stuff. Yarn is fucking expensive.

So yeah, he got the cheaper stuff, attracted to the colours as much as anything, even knowing he'd have to double it over to make it thick enough to knit. And that was how the trouble started because doubling it over meant unspooling the whole thing.

And now it's just another thing Eddie has fucked up.

He's not a good Omega, he knows that, he's been told it his entire life; too brash, too loud, too imaginative, not good at cooking and cleaning and organising and all the stuff Omega are supposed to naturally be good at.

Which if he didn't care, then it wouldn't matter, but Eddie wants a pup. Wants one like it's a burning urge inside him. Wants to carry one, wants to make another person who's a part of him. His Omega whines and whines and whines and Eddie wants it. Wants it enough that he tries to be a good Omega; he just always fucks it up.

And that makes it so much worse.

Some of the Omega in senior year are already mated, already walking around with bites proudly displayed on their necks. Fancy Omega with good breeding and nice families who have chosen Alphas for them. Which, sure, Eddie's not sure he'd like to have an Alpha picked for him, but to have a pup of his own? Eddie would put up with a lot.

One girl is already pregnant, everyone congratulating her and celebrating with her; as soon as she started to show Eddie found he couldn't even look at her any more, the envy was eating him alive.

But it'll never be for him.

They're supposed to make pup blankets in Omega class and Eddie can't even afford the fluffy yarn. He's already failed.

And then Eddie nearly shits himself when someone bangs on the driver side window. He's been ugly crying, and he tries to wipe his eyes and snotty nose to see who it is, winding the window down. Steve Harrington; fucking wonderful.

"Hey, man, look, are you, okay?"

"Fine," Eddie answers, clearly not at all fine, one hand smeared in snot and the other wound so tight in the fucked up yarn his fingers are turning white.

Steve sees it, "do you, want a hand with that?"

"I don't think there's any saving it." Eddie says, defeated, but it was unexpectedly decent of Harrington to offer so he tacks on, "thanks."

"I was just here, late, you know, shooting some practice hoops, maybe if we go in the gym we could spread it out, maybe?"

Eddie just stares at him for a minute, because this is the nicest anyone's been to Eddie for ages and it's coming from and Alpha which just makes it that much worse so Eddie just...nods. Finds himself following Harrington into the gym.

They work in silence for a while, and at Steve's suggestion, they do end up cutting the yarn once to make it easier.

"Thankyou."

"No worries man, I knew we could do it, what's it for?"

"Omega studies," Eddie mumbles at the gym floor, "pup blanket"

"Ah, right, that's cool, Why'd you pick it? I like the colours."

And in what universe is Steve Harrington making idle conversation with Eddie Munson, "was all I could afford," Eddie admits, shame faced.

"They make you buy it?" Steve's frowning, "even though it's for a grade?"

Eddie just nods, and then shrugs.

"Oh, well what did your Alpha think?"

Eddie snorts, can't help it, the ridiculousness of it, "I don't have an Alpha," Eddie declares, much more loudly than he'd really ment to.

"Oh. I just figured...I mean you're so pretty. You must get plenty of offers."

Eddie just...stares at Steve. He must have fallen and hit his head, surely. It's the only explanation for what's happening here, Eddie laughs again, "sure, if I want to get on my knees in the bathroom." Which is true, Eddie gets plenty of offers, just not any he'd like to participate in. He's going to loose his virginity to an Alpha who cares for him, in a nest that Alpha built, even if it kills him.

Which it just might, if he goes through another heat alone. He sees the way Wayne looks at him, the worry in his eyes. He knows he's not well, but he's just going to ignore it. There's nothing else to be done.

"Oh," Steve says, he looks uncomfortable but then he ploughs on anyway, "you do smell...well, I...I can tell you're maybe not doing so hot."

Great. Time for Eddie to fucking bail on this. He's hit his limit on Steve Harrington pity for the day.

It's the next day when Eddie finds a paper bag hanging from the windshield of his van. There's five skeins of yarn inside; dark blue, a little sparkly, and the softest thing Eddie's ever felt. He looks around to see who could have done this; across the car park Steve Harrington gives him a shy, two finger wave.

[realityinsuspense]

one step closer | chapter 1: i guess we're roommates now

--summary: "me and him? in one apartment? yeah, right. nothing is going to happen." ~~ two strangers living together. not talking and just going about each other’s lives. that was your plan. that’s how you’ve always done things, and you’ve gone far doing so. so when you have to suddenly move into a new apartment with your new roommate, you expect almost nothing. almost.

--pairing: mingi x fem!reader

--genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, a little angst, #mingi is cold and standoffish (? kinda), #eventual mutual pining

words: 2.9k

--

chapter 1: i guess we're roommates now

“I’m gonna miss you,” Your best friend Hongjoong, says through the phone. You could hear him fake a sniffle. “It’ll be so different without you.”

“Please,” you chuckle a little. “It’s only like an hour or so away from here. Crazy how much a difference that makes for the rent prices though…”

You’re doing your last minute checks in your (soon-to-be) old studio apartment, phone pressed to your ear. Everything for the most part seems to be packed up (minus the furniture of course) which made your once lively space turn into a barren landscape. It felt so unfamiliar to be in such a cold and empty environment that you once called home. So many memories were made here, but now it’s time to say goodbye. For good reason though.

“Yeah, who would’ve thought,” He heaves a sigh. “But I can’t believe you’re willing to move in with a stranger. A stranger that’s a man too? You’re crazy.”

“Hey,” you hold the phone now, sitting cross legged on the floor next to your packed boxes. “I know, I know! But he seems okay…based off of the listing he posted at least.”

“Just okay? y/n, you haven’t met him yet?!” Hongjoong sounded baffled.

“Not yet!” You defend. You were worried you sounded more desperate than you actually were. “I..I really had no time, you know? And the time I did tour the apartment, he wasn’t there. But we did talk on the phone once…so my gut tells me he’s okay!”

Hongjoong laughs at the other end of the line. “I guess it’s the real deal, but you still have to be careful. You know, just in case anything happens—and I hope not—you know you can call me right?”

“Of course I know that,” You try to assure yourself. It’s true, it was a crazy bold move to move into a new apartment, in a completely different area with a roommate that so happened to be a guy. But you really had no choice. This new apartment and new roommate was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

The bottomline was that your job was making you move company buildings. And in that small turnaround time you had, you quickly scrambled to find a new place—anything to assure you’d be able to make it to your new office building on time. Work is such a pain, you think to yourself. All of these life adjustments for what? But survival was essential. And you needed this job more than you know.

But in all honestly, the place was totally ideal. Not only was it was closer to your job, but the rent was way cheaper. I might be able to save more money to go on a vacation, you reasoned. It seemed like a pretty good deal, minus the fact that you’d be moving in with a total stranger. Whom you’ve never even met yet…

“Song Mingi” was his name. Based off his profile on the listing, you knew that he was around your age or so—which chipped off some uneasiness you had at first. You talked on the phone with him a while back, but it was mainly about the lease and rent and all that important stuff. You even went to tour the place yourself, but the landlord was there to give the tour in his place since he was “busy with personal matters”. I mean, it’s crazy to think that your new housemate is coming in. You’d expect him to want to meet his future housemate for the next year or so.

But he didn’t seem to be too interested in doing so. Maybe he’s really to himself, you think to yourself. I can work with that.

In fact that was even better maybe. Two strangers living together. Not talking and just going about each other’s lives. That could work, you thought. That’s how you’ve always done things, and you’ve gone far doing so. But the thought of living with someone new after a while made your stomach turn a little. You could handle it, sure—you had done so with your roommates back in college a few years ago—but nothing beats having your own place to yourself.

It’s just for a year, you think to yourself. You’ll have your own place again in no time.

“Just make sure you visit when you can please. I’ll even cook you dinner.” You say.

“Of course! I will soon.” You and Hongjoong wrap up your call. And just like that, as if in perfect timing, the moving truck calls.

It’s time.

-

Here you were. Your new home.

Before you, stood your new apartment complex. It was definitely much smaller than your old one, but you didn’t mind. It seemed a bit modern, but still had a homey feel to it. And the last time you visited, the neighborhood stole your heart. It seemed much more peaceful, with a bunch of small families around.

What a deal. But you couldn’t ignore your racing heart in that moment. You were about to move in with a total stranger. Maybe I am actually crazy. But there was no going back now.

You took your phone out and texted your new housemate that you arrived. Your fingers hovered over his contact name: Song Mingi.

“Just text me when you get here.” Mingi said through the phone the last time you spoke. Gosh. You were really going to live with this guy.

hey mingi, i’m here!! the moving guys will help bring my boxes up too!

And you waited for his response.

1 minute passed. 2 minutes. 3 minutes.

Nothing.

then 5 minutes…6…7…

Nothing. Would it seem impatient to text again? You were worried the moving company would have to leave soon. They were already unloading your boxes from the truck.

Should I text again?

hey, i’m outside!!

And you waited again.

Nothing.

“Hey, any way to get inside?” One of the staff members came up to you and said. “Not to pressure you, ma’am, but it’s almost 6 o’clock.”

“I don’t, I’m so sorry,” You can’t help but start to feel panicked. “Let me just get ahold of my housemate. It’ll be just a second.”

You knew texting would be inefficient. Who seriously replies right away these days? So you decided to bite the bullet and just call him. Would it really be so bad?

Ring. Ring. Ring.

No answer.

Seriously?! You felt horrible since the moving staff was growing impatient, and you knew they’d charge you extra for keeping them past the hour. It’s not too big of a deal, but you did have a lot of boxes. And you knew your new apartment was on the top floor. Plus, it was getting dark outside and you felt like a fool standing outside the apartment building doing nothing.

This wasn’t the ideal first impression you wanted to give your new housemate, but it was getting ridiculous. And at that point you couldn’t hold back: you went and called him again.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

And again.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

And again.

Ring. Ring. Ri-

“Hello?” His familiar deep voice croaked through the phone. FINALLY!

“Mingi? Hi! Yes it’s y/n… um, I’m here outside now!” You mask your slight impatience and worry with politeness. But by the sound of his low voice, you suspect he was probably asleep. A nap?!

“Ahh,” he sighed heavily on the other line. “I’ll be right down.”

You assured the mover that he was on his way down, and luckily they obliged to stay and help. The relief you felt suddenly turned into nerves. You were going to meet Song Mingi face to face for the first time. What a bold move indeed.

You head over towards the movers and try to help with your boxes when you suddenly hear the apartment building door open.

“y/n?”

You turn around to face him. Your new roommate.

You're not too sure why you're so surprised, but he was quite...good looking. Not that you were expecting anything, but it is catching you off guard just a tiny bit.

He was even taller than you thought he’d be: dressed in baggy grey sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt—his black hair tousled messily and his face framed with thick rimmed glasses. Mingi stepped forward.

“Hey,” He greeted. “I’m Mingi.”

“Hi,” You return the greeting, giving a small smile. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Mingi nods and glances past you. “Sorry about the delay. I accidentally fell asleep.”

“No, it’s okay,” You try to assure, suddenly feeling awkward. At least he’s being honest I guess? “I thought I was disturbing you by calling you so many times.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Silence.

He clears his throat, his eyes still glancing past you. “Your boxes?”

“Right! Yes, thank you.”

-

“Well, this is it,” Mingi said after the movers left. He places one last box on the floor. For some reason, the words were barely reaching you—your move-in boxes piling high at the foot of the door. “I guess we’re roommates now.”

The apartment was just like you remembered it from the tour—well, except the pile of dishes and empty takeout on the kitchen counter. It wasn’t exactly like your old place, but it was different in a good, familiar way: cream coated walls, gentle ambient lighting, and modern furniture. The living room had a dark couch and a wooden coffee table. It had a basic kitchen design—white cabinets and tabletops, with an island counter and a small dining area. It was quite minimal, but still showed signs of living. Definitely cozy.

You open the door to your new room, which was opposite across Mingi’s. Similar to the rest of the apartment, it was quite minimal and held similar design styles. It was quite spacious, holding a luscious queen sized bed just for you. The best part was the wide, curtained windows on the left side of the room—natural lighting always brought your mood up so you were particularly excited about this. You turned the lights on, its soft yellow light glowing against your skin.

“You know, I can’t believe you’re actually taking this spot, but thanks.” You heard Mingi say from the kitchen. “I really needed a roommate asap…and, I don’t know if it was ideal for you to move in with a total stranger, much less a guy. But let me just say now, I’m not some sort of creep or something like that.”

You were quite surprised. If you weren’t so desperate, maybe you wouldn’t have been as blinded by this fact. A man alone with a single woman these days could be quite risky. But something in you felt like you trusted Mingi (after reading the listing and talking with him on the phone of course). And the fact that you were similar in age made it seem less scary—it was like moving in with a classmate or something.

“Oh yeah, of course. But no, I didn’t really think that at all.” You step out of your doorway and face him. “I really needed to find a new place in this area quickly as well.”

Mingi simply nods in response once again.

“Alright, well anyways…” he begins after a beat of awkward silence. He moves from the sink to lean onto the kitchen counter, and runs a hand through his hair. “To be brief, we’ll have a chores list to split up cleaning and all that. But I just want to make it clear that everything in this apartment should be split equally. The kitchen, the living room, and even the bathroom.”

For some reason, you were beginning to feel more intimidated. He had this aura, and you couldn’t put your finger on it. Maybe it was his looming height or his unwavering serious expression, but it was the way he spoke—short, direct, and his voice: husky and deep.

“And you know... we don't really know each other at all so..." Mingi finally looked directly at you. "Let’s just keep it simple and not get in each other’s way, okay?”

“Sure,” You say nonchalantly. “That’s fine by me too.”

And you honestly were. You felt pretty relieved because that’s also how you would go about things. I mean, you didn’t even know this guy. So what’s even the point? This was just your home. Nothing more, nothing less.

Yet, the way he seemed so cold about it bothered you just a little. It's kind of rude isn't it? But you shook your head internally and pushed that thought to the back of your mind.

Two strangers living together. Not talking and just going about each other’s lives. That’s how you’ve always done things, and you’ve gone far doing so.

That’s how it should be. This was better.

“Cool, well…I’m gonna wash up now. Night.” Mingi’s voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Night.”

Both of you go on your separate ways. You knew you had a lot to unpack and fix, but you took in a deep breath and exhaled heavily. Welcome to your new home.

next chapter

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[phoniexrose02]

Robby Keene x Black! Reader

You awoke with a Painful ache in your Back, This Week had Really Been Beating your Ass. Both of your Jobs Decided to Work you to the Nail, Unfortunately Missing your Boyfriend's Karate Tournament. Robby Understood of course, But you'd Felt like such an Ass and When you found out about the Outcome you'd Felt even More Responsible. Everything Just Seemed to Be working against you Right now.

"Next Off Day Robby I Swear..."

You Held your phone Close to your Ear an Huffed a Tired Breathe"You know I want too~" stared around the empty Breakroom, Robby Sat awake in New bed. He'd Felt a Bit Odd in his New Room an Decided to Spark the Room up a bit, a lit preroll in between his fingers. Getting high asf after all the recent shit he'd been threw was Great But as great as it way all he could think about right now was You.

"Mm~ you Owe me like 24hr Worth of Cuddles already Sweetheart" He Grumbled out staring up into his Ceiling."I might be able to Get the Weekend~" You smiled to yourself, it finally felt Forever since you'd seen Him and now that he Lived closer you could get to him a lot cheaper." We can Cuddle all we Want, Maybe ruin that New Bed of yours~" you Whispered, Robby Could Feel the Ideas coming to his Mind. His Dick Getting excited to the thought, you Groaned Looking Toward the Clock.

Back to it I guess....

"My 30 mins is almost up, I'll see you This weekend Baby"

As the Called Ended Robby Stared around his Room, Looked a bit Bland...Soo he Decides to make it Fun For both of you. He Spend a Good Chunk of his Weekly allowance to Deck out his Room, Posters, New Pillows, Candles, an a few pedals and Flowers. He let himself Browse around the mall for anything else that Would lighten your Mood, Robby smiled after a bit of Walking around Laying his Eyes on the Perfect Gift.

As Friday Came you routinely Called Him up after your shift as you Waited for your Lyft."Hope you weren't Working to Hard gorgeous" you smiled Bright as you usually did when he Answered your Call."Mm'Trying" you spoke quietly."I Called a Ride I should be Over in a bit"

"Cancel it."

"Wha- Why??"

He hung up Leaving You a Bit confused an Huffed before putting him on you speaker you Cancelled your Ride, Before you could fully register his request you were pulled away with a Loud honk." Need a Lift Gorgeous" your eyes Fell on the EagleFang Van."No Way he let you Drive it!" You yelled happily prancing to the Passengers Seat, as you were about to hop in You Noting the Beautiful flower bouquets."Oh Robby, how Gentleman Like~" you Hop in Setting your Bag onto the Ground an the Flowers in your lap.

"Only the Best for my Girl~" You Both Lean in for a Longing Kiss, He let his ringed Fingers Gently Rest on your Face, the Cool Metal Meeting your Warm Cheeks." I Missed you~" he Quietly Hummed out as he pulled away from you." I missed you Too, I'm so Sorry I couldn't get to you Sooner"

"Don't worry bout it baby, We'll make it all Up tonight~"

You Placed your Hand on his Thigh Most of the Drive, it Seemed like so much to talk about But Silence Quickly Over took."Soo, how are things? Living with your Dad I Mean.." he Huffed as if to think very Carefully about the Subject."Better. I'm actually gonna be a Big Brother" You Eyes instantly Widened in Shock."Holy Fuck I didn't think he had it in him! So how do you Feel? Have you Met her yet?" He Nodded letting out a Relieved Sigh." She's cool, I'm kinda Proud of him, it's still a little weird tho. But we're working through it.." he finally Said with a Confident Smile, You let your hand rest on his shoulder an Gently Grazed at his Neck.

The small gesture Brought him Comfort, as he Pulled into the Driveway and Parked the Car He finally Looked over to you, Your Curvy Body Shoved into the Uncomfortable Work uniform."Is He Home?" You asked Softly Taking in your Surroundings, an Robby Examined your Beautiful Lips as you Speak." nah, He promised to go stay with her tonight." You smiled and He Gave a Bright one back, you Both Grabbed your things before Heading Inside.

"I love you, you know that?" he Blurted out Randomly in the Hallway as he Stopped at his Door, a Smirk stretched against your chubby Cheeks."I know Robby~" you planted a kiss to his Cheek, an you two Proceeded to open his door.

Smoke n' Fuck?~

You giggled at as the Read the petals aligned on his Bed. You examined his Room an Smiled, you loved just Being in his Safe Space it Brought you comfort." It's amazing Baby, and of Course I'll Smoke N' Fuck with you~" You pull off your uncomfony work shoes and place them next to the door with your Bag."You want some of my clothes?" You placed the Flowers at his Desk an began to Strip from your Tight Clothes as Time Robby started to Rummage through his Draws.

"Sure. You got Sum Rolled for me?~" you Wrapped your arms around his Waist letting your tits Press Heavily onto his Back." Of Course, I also got another Present for ya".

He Dug into the Bottom of his Draws handed the you a gifted wrapped bag,You Gush as you pulled out a Box Reading 'Magic Wand' with a Smirk."You didn't~" it'd felt like forever since you two had Been intimate, you Pulled the Toy From the Box Before turning it on. The strong vibrations in your fingers Send a Tinkle Down your Spine. You play with the Settings of the Toy Smirking at the highest. "Wanna Test it Out?~"

You Nodded an he helped you Undress the rest of you clothing, you Plopped down onto the bed some petals Falling to the Floor in Result. You watched from his Bed as a Pulled off his Top an Slipped a Prerolled into his Mouth, you bite your lip as Taking in his Beautiful physique."I know we said 'Fuck Cobra Kai' , But Damn Did they get you Ripped~" he quickly discarding of his pants with a Chuckled. Only left in his Boxers he Crawled in between your legs Spreading them to his Liking, your glistening Cunt in perfect view. You hand him the Wand and he Switches it out for the J.

"Fuck Cobra Kai, this was all Me Baby~" he turned it onto its first setting as you took a long Drag. He let out a quiet groan at the strong vibrations, something about it making him Dick Twitch."You ready Beautiful?~" You Nodded Resting On your Elbows, Robby Made sure to place the ashtray onto his Bed as soon as he Lit it so you two would have no Reason to Split apart again.

He placed the Toy Against your gush Cunt, the Strong Vibration Made Jerk. He Held your Side with one hand keeping you steady."Easy Baby, Relax~" Robby slowly moved the Soft Bud Up to your Clit, an you Took another Huff with a Quiet Hum. You Wiggled your hips against the Vibrating toy." Your Leaking all over this thing baby, I take it you like?~" you Nodded in approval taking another hit before Gently Shoving the Toy away.

"It's a really stimulating, But you Promised me a Good Fuck~" you Two Switched out once again and you turned on the wand settings up. "You sure you can Handle that? Seem a Little jumpy with this thing alone." Robby asked as he Hit the Joint as you played with yourself in Bliss."Jumpy's Good, an you usually have the strength to keep me Down~" your Toes Curled as you Found your Sweet Spots with the Toy."Hey! Your Not Cumming without me~"

Robby Placed the Roach onto the Ashtray before Pulling his Hard Dick From his Boxers. He Ran his Hard Cock threw your Leaking Folds He Let out a Gentle Grunt as he Made Contact with the Toy, you Gently place your hands against his Guiding the Toy to your Sweet Spots."Fuck~ your Gushing~" He Held your hips n Place before Shoving his Tip in your Hole, he Sunk inside Your soaking Cunt.

Robby's hips Shook as his Pelvis met with the Buzzing Plaything, He Hummed as his Hips Quickly Jerked into you. His Rough Thrust Making Dawning you Speechless, you Fell Back into the Pillows as Robby Fucked you into the Mattress.

Fuck New Favorite~

"More! More!~" you Chanted To him as you Reached For his Abs, he Growled an Tensed Ramming down Deep, Your hips Jump as Robby placed the Toy onto its highest Setting He let out a Deep Moan Feeling the Vibration himself,Your Walls Clung on tight forcing him to Speed up his Thrust.

" Oh God! Oh God! I'm Cumming Robby! I'm Cumming!~" You Gripped at the Sheets and your Toes Curl, he pulled the Wand from your Cunt as you Spilled you Juices onto him, Robby Pulled himself out and with a Few Strokes he Cums over your stomach and Clit."Fuck, I think this might be my New Favorite~" He Pulled himself from the Bed and put away the Wand. "We'll play with her More Later" You were left pretty Boneless as he Cleaned you up, your high brain Going Bland for a sec.

"Fuck...I got Munchies now" You shameful Whispered an he Giggled Fixing the Sweat Strands of Hair and pulling on a Pair of Sweatpants." Let me take you out..?"

"No Way, You still owe me my Cuddles" he Slide back into Bed Pulling you Close to his Chest, he was Warm against your back and his hands Gripped your Naked Waist Tight."How about DoorDash an a movie?" He Grunted at the thought of spending anything on him at all." If we Smoke before It'll Taste Better..."

"Fine, But I refuse to let you leave my Bed Pretty Girl~"

More Cobra Kai 🐍

[deleteddewewted]

Supermarket Romance p2

Modern! Titus x Gn! Reader

S: Titus goes back to the supermarket as he needs ingredients for a new recipe that his gyms security guard recommended trying. He gave himself the liberty to wear a hoodie this time as he wasn't feeling all too well. He wasn't expecting to see you again nor that you asked him a question. (Cairon makes a brief appearance here!)

W: PTSD episodes, Depression, Anxiety Disorders, Reader is a broke Artist, Titus works as an Analyst for a company, Ableist comments (From Titus and to Titus)

Previous / Next

He didn't know what to think about his appearance at the moment. If anything, he was trying to not think about it. He was wearing shorts, which he usually wore for semi-formal occasions, and a hoodie, which he had for the gym. His leg was acting up again, the weather and his lack of use of his knee brace created bigger problems for him. He knew he should have worn it the last time he worked out but he felt too embarrassed to wear it out in public. He thought people would stare or pass judgment if he did so he left it in his gym bag. He didn’t think to much about it anyways. He just needed to grab a few things to make a recipe that the security guard at the gym he goes to suggested.

Cairon was a hulking figure, especially for a security guard. He was an ex veteran like himself, was younger than Titus by a few years, and he was discharged after losing his arm during an explosion. The man seem to take his injury in stride unlike Titus. He constantly encouraged Titus, was motivational to all who walked in, made sure to keep everyone in check. Cairon was a ray of sunshine that Titus couldn’t seem to damper. Not that he wanted to but it was a little much at times. Cairons eagerness to help and be there became overwhelming at times but Titus also welcomed it. The man approached him first after all, made sure to help him find the locker room and the private gyms if he ever needed a moment to himself. Titus thought the younger man might have picked up on his disability and that’s why he was being kind but no, Cairon picked up on Titus’ discomfort for overly loud and crowded spaces. Ever since their first meeting Cairon has been a constant presence in Titus’ life and the older man appreciated that. He even told Titus that he should wear his brace and that not wearing it would just make things harder on himself.

Titus was paying the price for it now. His knee more than anything was killing him and his entire leg felt like it was ready to collapse under him while he gauged the prices of the cabbage. He leaned on his other leg instead, hoping to gain some relief.

"Are they any good?" A voice asked from beside him. He turned to look at the person but didn't see anyone. He looked down instead and found you staring at the cabbages.

"Im thinking of getting one but im not sure. I don't think ¢.76 the pound is worth it for a cabbage." You rambled on. He didn't know what to think, he kind of just blinked at you hoping that his brain would help him push the words out of his mouth. What was he supposed to say? This wasn't the first time he's talked to you but this was the first actual conversation he was contemplating having with a stranger.

"Hmm, i think its cheaper at the corner store." You turn around and just leave, not even bothering for a response from him.

Titus just watches you leave, the words stuck in his throat as he turns back around and processes what happened. Your scent was something he picked up. You smelled nice, earthy even. He wanted to ask what cologne or perfume you used. Maybe it was your body wash. It was comforting and reminded him of one of his bunk buddies who was into hygiene and always looking presentable.

He didnt keep track where you going but every so often he did bump into you. You seemed to be on a tighter budget than last time, only grabbing a few items that where on clearance or expiring soon. He noticed that you had a lot of meat in your basket and ziplock bags. Maybe you were freezing them so they would last longer, he thought to himself. Now that he thought about it, his recipe did call for meat and he was yet to get any.

His hands began to sweat and his hands trembled as he thought about it. He could use this as his excuse to talk to you, to introduce himself and be pleasant. His therapist had suggested he start socializing with other people outside of his work and gym. He could do this, he told himself. He siked himself up, took a few deep breathes, and walked over to you.

You were looking at some potatoes, thinking if it was worth buying them since there was no way you would be able to preserve them. Your fridge was having issues and you were worried about the moisture in your apartment. Either way, the potatoes would mold quickly and it would be waste unless you tried eating only that for the next week and a half. The thought made you sick.

“Excuse me.” A man’s voice came from behind you. You jolted before moving to the side hoping you hadn’t taken too much space so he could grab whatever he wanted from the produce section. But he never reach forward to grab anything. Instead, he was facing you. You swallowed hard before turning to face the man. It was the kind stranger who gifted you the ice cream from last time. He looked menacing, he practically loomed over you and his clothes didn’t help disuade that feeling.

“Hey there, stranger.” You replied. You hoped that your nervousness wasn’t noticeable. You felt like you were practically sweating buckets. His gaze was intense, his eyes half lidded and looking into your soul as his face betrayed no emotion.

“Is there any good sale on the meats?” His question didn’t feel like a question, more like an observation. You didn’t know how to feel about it. The man gave ex con or ex military vibes and it was starting to make you nervous just how big he was.

“Uh…yeah, there’s some good deals. It’s half off if you get the clearance stuff. You just need to ask butcher for the cuts you want.” You felt awkward and out of place. Not an unusual feeling but it was made more intense by the man in front of you. He didn’t even react to the information you age him, he merely blinked at you before nodding his head and thanking you.

“Thank you for the information. I’ll make sure to check with the butcher.” He looked like he was going to take his leave, his body already turning to leave, but he stops himself.

“My name is Titus.” It was your turn to blink at him. Titus. The name was so… pristine. Elegant even. It sounded so modern yet old and it flowed with a nice bounce. You could practically taste the pronunciation of his name on your tongue.

“It’s a pleasure meeting you, Titus. I’m Y/n.” You offered your hand to him but he ignored it and walked away instead. You sighed and turned back to the potatoes.

“Titus, what a lovely name.” You thought to yourself. You with an amused smile on your face, you walked towards the cash register to check out.

Titus sped walk away from the produce area as quickly as he could. His leg was killing him and the muscles in the appendage were set ablaze. But he ignored it. His heart was pounding in his chest and the air around him felt heavy. He spoke to someone new today and they didn’t run away! A small spark of joy bloomed in his chest as he went over the interaction in his head. You smiled at him, you spoke to him, you met his gaze. You weren’t disgusted by his appearance but instead you treated him like he was any ordinary man. It was thrilling to him. And yet, he wondered if you stayed cause you truly wanted to speak to him. His joy dwindled but he did accept that it was progress. His therapist was sure to be thrilled with this new development. In the mean time, he mulled over your name. He thought it was nice and fitting for you. You looked like your name, for however silly the thought was. A lovely name for a kind looking person. He wondered if this meant you would speak to him the next time you meet. If he could approach you. Would that ok? Would it be welcomed? Doubts consumed him but he pressed on. He made his way over to the small butcher shop in the store and asked for their clearance cuts. He grabbed a few he liked or thought would be easiest to cook and made his way to the front of the store to pay. He couldn’t spot you in any of the lines but he did spot you waiting at the bus stop once again.

He bagged and grab his things and and this way back to his car. As he loaded his things he noticed you get on the bus with all of your bags and leave. He wondered what kind do life you lived. What minute inconveniences might you have in your own life? What were your motivations? He shook his head and closed his trunk.

He sat in the drivers seat and gave himself a few minutes to prepare for the drive ahead of him. He hoped that this issue would go away sooner rather than later like his therapist had told him. But he knew better than to rush himself to drive when he wasn’t feeling well. He didn’t want to have to stop on the side of the highway again because of an episode. It would make the trip twice as long and twice as painful.

[reorientation]

zyn anon. again. lol

straight boy keeps joking that he got me addicted to his cock and he's pretty much right. i keep hooking up with him. its kind of cute, honestly. the first few times we hooked up he would apologize most of the time if he misgendered me, but now he doesn't. if anything he doubled down. i heard him bragging to his friends during a game about how he took a girls virginity in exchange for zyns, and "now shes over all the time". i don't think he knew i was awake either. i think he really likes that hes my first and only lol he's wo possessive about it

honestly i still get a little dysphoric over the whole thing but im getting more comfortable with the idea of legit becoming an actual girl for him. im doing more things to feminize myself around him and also in my day to day life. everything short of stopping T since thats kinda being used as primary birth control lol. which I know isnt foolproof. he wears condoms sometimes but pulls out the rest mostly.

but omg so maybe the third or forth time we had sex he finished in me after i begged him to (i wasn't thinking straight lmao) and fuuuckk it was so intense for the both of us. feeling him grind all the way in me as he came was incredible. he basically pinned me under him as he came, it was like he wanted to get as deep as he could. it did freak me out after though so now we're more careful but he wants me to go on birth control. he said hes gonna stop pulling out eventually, and birth control would be cheaper than daily plan B, and cheaper than a baby. im looking into getting an iud lmao. might even stop t after that. pregnancy scares me and i dont necessarily want to carry his baby after only fucking him for three weeks but god the idea is still really hot. he joked about baby trapping me yesterday and i had to pretend like it didn't make me soaked. its not even just a horny thought I get over after i cum anymore, becoming a girl for him is becoming more and more appealing

(Previously)

God, you're fucking cute, Anon. You don't necessarily want to have your nicotine "dealer's" baby after fucking him for a few weeks? A girl who wasn't made to be a breeding whore would put it in stronger terms - or at least not beg him for his cum in her unprotected pussy.

Still, as incredibly lame as your boyfriend's little drug empire is, I do have to commend him a little: he seems to know how to handle a girl like you. Just telling you that he's going to stop wearing a condom or pulling out, and letting you quiver and drip with the knowledge of what that would mean if you aren't careful, is both a good move and very funny. If you aren't going to get yourself knocked up, try out a hormonal IUD - I think it'd be good for you to get a little extra dose of female hormones, as you switch over to a new form of testosterone injections.

It's also really cute that you "still get a little dysphoric about the whole thing", because this is one of the clearest cases I've seen of a girl being desperate to be "persuaded" to "give up" her boy disguise. Come on, little lady. You showed him your pussy to be allowed to blow him for a discount, you spread your legs for the first time for him, and now a few weeks later you're only still on T because you can't stop yourself from taking his cum. You couldn't be throwing yourself at femininity much harder without putting on a pink floofy dress and batting your eyelashes at him.

Well, maybe that's up next. It's been a strong start, but you've still got room to grow. (And if you don't get that IUD quickly, you'll be growing sooner rather than later.)

[inkyquince]

YOU MAKE ME WEEP 😭 I MISS YOU AND I HAVEN'T BEEN ON. can't wait for the semester to wrap up. but i did get a job for the summer hahaha!!

i'm trying to get pregnant by kylar or eden. so far i have FAILED.

honestly, i must ask how you would think wren would be as a parent. would love to hear any thoughts on that!!!

THIS GOT BURIED, IM SO SORRY!!

DW, we know how Eden and Kylar are. Non stop fuck nasty machines.

Okay, for Wren as a dad, it... Depends?

Like, does he like you as a fuck buddy or does he... Like you, like you? Like Like... Like Love Like?

Cuz if its the first one, I think the best you get is that he's going to be not present at all. Like he sends money, he's going to show up some days to absolutely dazzle your kid with a horse ride and presents and shit, and then won't come and visit for another 8 months. He's flighty as fuck, he's busy. Your kid will have his beautiful hair, maybe his soft brown eyes. Maybe your kid will always love him because he's the cool fun dad who spoils them when he does come around. Maybe they get disenchanted by him by the time they hit their teens. He doesn't pick up when they call, he doesn't come to important events. Maybe one day he comes by with a couple of presents and they flatly turn down going out for a day with him. You might get to watch his face fall a bit. Maybe just his eyes just get a bit duller.

Your kid goes off to hang out with friends and you and Wren get to have a drink together for the first time in ages, since his attention is normally on your kid, never you. He's down. Says he wants to do better. But you know him by now. So you just offer a pat on the back, and wonder if this is the last time you'll see him again, since he's finally been turned away by his kid, and has no reason to come back anymore.

NOW, if you're someone he actually fucking likes?

My god. Wants his annoying input in everything you do. Choosing a flat? "Sunshine, babycakes, darling, its cheaper to get a lil cottage out on the farmlands, and then I can come by every night after work and-" Deciding on a crib? "Sweetheart, muffin, angel face, let me see if i can get it handmade, never should trust the plastic shit, fuck, I slept in the top drawer for the first 3 months of my life, baby-" Like its cute, but shut up babe.

He's going to be in your damn life. Even if you say he can take a backseat, he's fucking taking that backseat out, taking out the gear stick and putting his seat there. Fuck you.

Somehow got into your phone to get a copy of important upcoming dates, and he skids into the ultrasound, all sweaty, just as you're getting your gown on.

He's going to be your fucking best friend in this. That's Wren as a lover, boyfriend, partner, it's as a best friend who really wants to get into your pants and deigns to bombard you with sloppy kisses just because he knows it makes you swat at him.

He would sometimes not show up days in a row, but it's never months. Just a few days, and he comes back with an oversized plush under his arm, or a stupidly big cake or something.

He loves that kid man. He's always gonna love his kid, but they aren't an afterthought anymore. He wants 50 more hours in the day, so he doesn't have to choose between work and his home.

Wren's also fucking terrified. He knows the town he lives in, its why he wanted you in the farmlands, not in town. Will beg you to consider homeschooling. In his perfect world, his kid never steps foot in town, and gets to grow up with nature, and feeling safe. Doesn't matter what age, he wants to be old as fuck, and have his 40 year old kid still at home and training horses or something.

Wren, overall, as a parent would love his kid. But his relationship with you would decide how much he wants to actually be there.

[broadwaybalogna]

Zuko and Katara are shopping at a market. While Katara is haggling for deals and Zuko's carrying all the bags, a lost child approaches them asking for help finding their mother. Momtara and Dadko activate!

Awww this is so cute

I love these prompts so much please continue sending them!

FEATURINGGG: hella soft Zuko

Grocery shopping was bonding time for Katara and Zuko. At least, that’s what Katara told Zuko. It felt a lot more like an excuse for Zuko to hold her grocery bags while she bargained with business men/women. So unless standing within five feet of each other while shopping was what Katara meant by “bonding,” Zuko didn’t buy it.

“Just last week this was a whole dollar cheaper!” Katara reasoned with one of the people at the many stands in the market.

“Inflation dear, it gets the best of us.”

“That’s not what-! Ugh, never mind. Do you price match?”

The man in front of Katara squinted his eyes and looked the woman up and down. “Yeah. But who else is selling angelberries right now?”

“I passed her as I was walking up here, just a few minutes back. At that point, I thought 4.50 for a dozen angelberries was beyond what they were worth. But I stand corrected,” Katara said, staring at the man.

Zuko knew that they had not, in fact, passed another stand that was selling angelberries, and Katara was purely gambling on the fact that this salesman didn’t memorize the other stands in the area.

He stared her down before giving up. “Fine, 4.50 for a dozen angelberries,” the man scowled.

“Thank you very much,” Katara flashed him her signature smile and grabbed the ripest berries she could find.

“Nice going, ‘Kat,” Zuko said after they were out of earshot from the salesman.

“Ugh, thanks. He was such an asshole, though. Some people.”

They continued walking around until Katara spotted another stand with something that was on his shopping list. Before she could make her way over to it, though, a small child went up to the two of them and began sputtering something nonsensical.

“Hey, hey,” Katara rushed to speak, “take a few deep breathes with me. In and out.”

Katara knelt down to the young child and began breathing with her. When she was finally calm, she opened her mouth a few times to try and figure out what to say, then her eyes started to water again.

“I-I- I can’t find my momma!” Tears began to spill from the young child who couldn’t be more than four years old.

Katara took both the child’s hands and held them in her own. Zuko knelt down beside the girl and began to rub her back.

“Hey, I’m sure she’s looking for you too. It’s going to be alright,” he finally spoke, “what’s your name?”

The girl took a few more deep breaths then spoke again.

“Izuma.”

“That’s a lovely name,” Zuko smiled, “I’m Zuko, and this is Katara.”

The girl nodded a few times.

“Do you know what your momma’s name is?” Katara asked.

“Uhhh, momma?”

Katara and Zuko both let out a sigh.

“Here, Zuko and I will split up so we can try to find your mom. How does that sound?”

The girl nodded faster.

“Alright, Izuma, you can come with me and we’ll go to the end of the market. Zuko, can you go in the way of the entrance? Let’s meet back here in twenty minutes.” Zuko gave a sharp nod and began to walk away and toward the entrance, stopping every few yards to look around for anyone who might be looking for their lost child.

By the time he was maybe a tenth of a mile back to the entrance, he spotted a woman rushing around and searching for something.

“Izuma!” She called, tears rolling down her face as she searched every crevice of the area.

Finally, he found her. He walked up to the woman whose face was scrunched and slightly disoriented.

“Ma’am, are you Izuma’s mother?”

“Yes! Have you seen her? Is she okay? Is she here?”

“My girlfriend and I found her, they’re looking for you towards the end of the market.”

“Oh, thank the spirits. Please take me to them!”

Zuko nodded and led her deeper into the market. Finally, when they could hear Izuma calling for her mother, she ran to the sound, leaving Zuko behind.

“Izuma! Oh, thank the spirits you’re alright!”

“Momma! I was so scared!”

“It’s alright, I’ve got you now.” Izuma’s mother said as she picked Izuma up and held her. “Thank you so much- both of you,” she said as she turned to face Katara and Zuko, “I owe you my life.”

“Oh, no!” Katara reassured, “Please, it was the right thing to do. Just knowing you’re both reunited is reward enough.”

“Thank you so much.”

“Of course,” Zuko spoke.

“Izuma, what do we say?”

“Thank you!” She yelled.

Katara and Zuko smiled. When Izuma and her mother finally left, Katara turned to face Zuko.

“We are never having children.”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

[miniaturesuitgladiator]

Slugbug! No slugbug back!

Notes: this is just a drabble for my series that I'm still making. I just wanted a little story behind readers car. So this doesn't include any of the batfam sorry....

Warning: None ( readers dad might sound a little yander but he's not. He's just a girl dad.🤷‍♀️)

-💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗-

If someone asked about you to anyone in your small town the first thing they would know is your a daddy's girl. Not in a ' you get everything you want' spoiled girl way. No, you were a daddy's girl because more often then not you were spotted by your father. For example: if your father would be fixing a car you'd be the one holding the flash light ,or if you had a bad day at school everyone knew the first person you would tell was your father.

And sure maybe he did spoil you a little ,but thats only because you're a good kid(you can do no wrong in his eyes). And maybe you were his favorite kid but just by a little ( everyone knows your his favorite child by ALOT).

So yeah maybe he does spend some money on you but you're his baby you deserve it. So it was a surprise to absolutely no one when he got you a car for your sixteenth birthday.

So a couple of months before your birthday your father started looking for your first car. Now you were his baby but he always made sure not to go over board with spoiling you. After all he wanted you to grow up right ( and because your mother wouldn't let him buy you a brand new car.)

so your father went to a car lot that sold used cars ,but nothing really caught his eye. So he went somewhere he knew he could just about anything. The junk yard.....

Now Your father wasn't gonna let you drive around in some peace of junk if that's what your thinking. No, he knew that somewhere in this trashy place there was some gold pieces that were just waiting to be discovered.

So after about 2 hours of looking he found the perfect car! It was in great condition the only downside was that the motor was garbage. So he did what he had to do he bought the car and with the few months he had left he used all his spare time to rebuild the motor.

After the motor was rebuilt and the car was up and driving he still wasn't satisfied. So he had the car costume painted. After that he still wasn't satisfied so he bought new tires and rims too... he wanted to customize it a little more but he didn't have time(and cause your mother wouldn't let him..).

Anyway so after your big party and dinner with all your family and friends..you got your big surprise!

So in the middle of your drive way with a big pink bow on top stood your (practically) new car!

It was a Volkswagen Beetle in your favorite color! With new wheels and rims! It had like 5 miles on it ... and a brand new interior that your dad did! ( that your mother was not very happy with ... since it probably would have been cheaper just to buy you a new car.).

Everyone smiled when the seen the car because it was just so you! See you played this game that your dad taught you ever since you could remember. You don't recall the name but it's a simple game. Every time you see a Volkswagen Beetle you yell "slugbug! No slugbug back!" And you win there's no points... it's really just dumb but you play it with everyone... And you learned it from your dad...

So it's no wonder why when you seen your car your eyes welled up with tears.. sure this might not have been your dream car no... but this was special and everyone knew that...

So without a second thought in front of everyone you run up to your dad and give him a big and tight hug....just like you used too when he would come back from work... and he hugged you back just like he used to even he was tired from work....

Because this car meant something .... not only did it mean that you could take yourself wherever you wanted... it meant you were growing up ,and wouldn't be his little princess for much longer.........

-💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗-

Thanks for reading!

Taglist: @dhanyasri , @kore-of-the-underworld , @i-adorehannah