#the bigger the jaw the longer the relationship

[trulymadlykiki]

.

[itachiiwrites]

He wanted them three rounds, DC had to come help him

Pairings: Established relationship, bf!gojo, reader is AFAB, a little lovesick gojo, he's overworked :(

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, freaky!gojo, marathon sex, p in v, (multiple) creampies and orgasms, squirting, feral gojo, sex in general.

Gojo Satoru is a freak..

Rumors about him being an absolute slut is true, but there is no bigger example than Satoru who is a slut and a virgin, a walking contradiction, before he met you.

Satoru looks at you in almost apprehensiveness when you give him a soft gaze at the revelation. This wasn't a look of disappointment, it looked like....pity. And Satoru hated being pitied more than anything.

He's a little embarrassed, although you reassure him that it's something you will never care about.

"You are literally juggling too many things with barely three hours of sleep, and virginity is a social construct anyway.." You shrug, looking up at him hovering over you, his tip nuzzled between the ingress of your sopping pussy, and oh how he thought that the pity would make his cock soft but it didn't, it just made it harder. It was a little pathetic, the way his cock was so easy that mere words of care and tenderness and acknowledgement for his furious schedule has got him rock solid, with the pearls of his precum clustering on the exterior of your sweet cunt. He was that love starved.

It took everything to not give your pussy mauling thrusts already, he was never the one to talk about how he indeed wanted a break sometimes and he wouldn't even now, especially being this horny and excited that he felt like a dog in heat. He had more than a good idea of how to go on about it, he had seen it in the bad porno that never appealed to him.

"Sweetheart..just let me put it in, I feel like my cock is gonna explode..I don't want to think of a bunch of blobs that I exorcise, not very hot.." He chuckled cheekily, leaning into your cheek, looking at you with the periphery of his eyes with a lecherous gaze, planting hot, open mouthed kisses onto your jaw and neck while he ached.

"Always a brat.." You sighed, grabbing his endowed cock from the base, pushing it into your velvety walls with a look of challenge and amusement laced onto your face.

After that, all hell broke lose. There was nothing that would stop Gojo Satoru now, not even if he was to be kept caged within his infinity. He would break it, just to discern your sweet, sweet cunt.

The challenge that was plastered onto your face just vanished, your assumption that Satoru would stop just after the first round with the orgasm that hit him with the speed of light, which made him finish so fast that it was deplorable, was so so wrong. He went on, and on and on.

And Gojo Satoru was innately confident, the fact that this was his first time didn't matter. He was always explorative, always excessive. Bold of you to assume he understood the concept of moderation.

"O-oh..fuckk..Toru.." You looked up to him with your glassy, nearly red rimmed eyes from the nth orgasm of the night, your cloying moans just made him keep going. Your was pussy puffy and clit violently engorged after being fucked this thoroughly.

"U-uh-huh..yeah, you like that..fuuuck baby, look at you.." He cooed with a feral grin on his lips as he steadily moved his hips, keeping your legs hoisted up on his shoulders, getting the hang of it. His hip movements no longer uncoordinated. He had always been a fast learner. He stills his hips with a series of whimpers as he came with hot white, thick ropes into your womb, pulling out with a lewd pop that spilled the cum stuffed inside down to your ass. You moaned softly, hazy and a little disoriented as your fluttering pussy pushed it all out.

He hummed at the sight, tapping and massaging his now agitatingly red tip onto your clit, he himself could feel his brain seem afloat, reverberating to take you again even after the multiple orgasms. He was dead set.

He hissed softly with widened eyes, in surprise and amusement, a full blown throaty laugh echoing his throat when you squirted, gushing out like a dam. He vigorously rubbed his sensitive cock on your sloshing pussy, his cock unbearably hard again. He was hooked, addicted. To you.

He grasped your hips, pulling you forward which made you mewl at the suddenness. He pressed his hefty weight on your body, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. If he had a laceration on his brain from the way this image of you burned in his head, sprawled underneath him, all flushed, sweaty and a mess, just for him. He would die rather than using his RCT.

"God baby..you washed my cum away, gonna hafta, fill you up again.."

©𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐢𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

Plagarism not authorised.

m.list!

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

day 1: micro/macro (unedited) | NSFW MDNI 18+

"It'll come when the time is right, bub. Just don't give up yet." Logan cooed as he wiped your tears away with his calloused thumb, your bedroom was silent. 

You were beyond frustrated; Everyone else at Xavier's School had some control over their mutations, except you. You couldn't reach your full potential yet and It felt juvenile to complain to Logan about it. But It wasn't like you could just go up and talk to your classmates and ask them how they mastered their abilities; Being in an intimate relationship with a professor was considered taboo, even between mutants. 

"I want it soon, that way I'll be able to go on missions with you. That's all I've wanted since I came here." You mumbled, scanning the weathered lines that contoured his eyes. 

"It won't come any faster if you cry about it, baby." He got up, sliding his hands down your jaw to your wrists. "Let's change up those thoughts for a bit, huh? How does that sound?" He slightly pulled your wrists, urging you to get up with him. You complied, rising from your seat. 

"What do you have in mind?" You looked down at your socked feet on the wooden floor. 

Logan's lips crashed onto your exposed shoulder. The coarse prickling of his facial hair brushed against your sensitive skin, sending that shiver you know all too well down to your core.

 "M' gonna help my baby relax, that's all." He mumbled between wet kisses as he trailed up to the base of your neck. The lightheadedness from your crying earlier made you more sensitive to touch, making his mouth feel warmer, softer and wetter than usual. The heightened sensation made your nipples harden with every kiss, your body growing hungrier with each one. 

"Mmmh, you feel good Lo'." You breathed out, your head gently falling backwards allowing him better access. His large hand gripped your breast, thumbs digging softly into the pillowy tissue. A spasm rushed through your chest sporadically, hot and tingling from his touch. You felt your breasts suddenly become heavier and your body instantly leaned forward to support the newfound weight. 

"Woah," You caught your fall on his sturdy frame. The skin of your chest expands with each millisecond as your breasts begin to swell bigger and bigger. Your mutation of being able to shrink and grow was currently having an interesting reaction to sexual stimulation. 

You peer down, seeing your now full shirt, practically ripping at the seams. "What a strange time to actually work," You mumbled more to yourself than to him. 

You look up at Logan, whose eyes are glued to your front, with a wide tight-lipped grin. "Looks like my idea is working, c'mere baby." He gently pushes you to the bed, your breasts recoiling from the impact of your bed.

"Let's take a better look at em', hm? " Logan growls before he rips your overfilled shirt open with a swift swipe of his blades. The relief of the pressure makes you hum in delight, as your breasts spring out of the restrictive material.

"Oh my god," He groaned, covering his mouth with his hand in awe while taking in the sight before him. The gorgeous pair he had initially fallen in love with and could not get enough of had just tripled in size. 

You flushed red as you saw primitive darkness overcome him, the critical-thinking Logan was no longer in the driver's seat, a more animalistic side had now taken over. He lowered his hand, palming his painful erection through his jeans to ease some pressure.

Logan caged you underneath him as he crawled onto the mattress. His lips met yours instantly, sending butterflies in your lower stomach. There was something in the way that he kissed you that made your head swoon, his lips were soft but the kiss wasn't. Wet lips and tongues gliding over each other, as you moaned in his mouth from the pleasure. 

His hands slid to your breasts, sensually rolling his thumbs over your aching nipples. With every flick, they stiffened eagerly. He broke the kiss. holding your gaze for a moment before dropping to one of them. He sucked one into his mouth, the contrast of the cool air and the warmth of his mouth covered your skin in goosebumps. He gently passed his tongue over your delicate bud as his hand caressed your other. 

Your fingers knotted in his thick hair as he worked on your chest, earning a low grunt from him. In response he gave you a soft bite, giving you that stinging sensation you liked.

"Fuck," You moaned. 

Logan let go of your nipples earning a whine from you and got up on his knees, unzipping his pants. "Suck," He ordered, before pushing two fingers of his free hand in your mouth. You gagged around them as they made their way deeper into your throat. "That's it, just like that princess." Spit began to leak from your lips.

He kicked off his jeans and underwear to the side, dressed in only his white tank top. He retrieved his fingers from you, a saliva string following. He lathered his hard cock with your spit letting out a breathy sigh from the anticipated friction. With the leftover drool, he rubbed some on your chest. 

"I've always wanted to do this," He said before straddling your chest. Logan's hands found their way to each breast and pushed them together.  He loomed above you as he positioned himself properly, his delicious cock swaying from side to side, inches away from your face.

He sucked in a deep breath as he positioned himself between your tits, and exhaled sharply as he pushed the head of his cock in. Your soft wet skin, allowing his veiny length to glide into your cleavage.

 His swollen red tip poked out near your chin as he began to thrust In and out. Logan's hips snapped back and forth in delight. He quickly picked up a steady rhythm, making him bite down on his lip. His eyes met yours, clouded with lust. Logan looked at you like you were his goddess, he could not keep his eyes off of you. Every curve of your body, inch of your soft supple skin was perfection.

This entire experience was too surreal for him and the whole spontaneity of the situation crept his orgasm closer with each pump. Your hands found themselves above your head, gripping the pillow behind you as you felt his cock twitch at your sternum.

Logan's movements became sloppy as his breathing grew shallow. Small grunts and moans escaped his lips as he pleasured himself with your body. He couldn't help himself, it was too much, too good. 

His head tipped back as warm ribbons of white covered your face a chest. The grip on your breasts tightened as he rode out his orgasm. 

"Fuck baby," He managed to get out between breaths.

He plopped down on the bed beside you, removing his shirt to use as a clean up rag. He carefully folded it, patting you dry from his seed.

“Got a little carried away there,” He avoided your eyes shyly.

“You did didn’t you?” You teased back.

“Alright, alright. Now I’m gonna do what I was originally planning on doing.”

With a coy smirk, he shifts on the bed and places himself between your thighs.

🏷️: @back2thebasics , @spookyfunhottub, @lanassmarty, @hypermarvellove, @kbear8863,

@squishyfruitloop, @v3rdee , @instantpersonawombat, @a-leg-without-fear, @eyes-ofhell

If you'd like to join my tagged list and be notified whenever I post new content, click ->-> HERE<-<-, instructions will follow.

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[vagabond-umlaut]

toasty

sometimes, it isn't just the weather which is comfortably warm. sometimes, it can be one person, because of another person, as well.

gojo satoru x fem!reader; pre-relationship; gojo is a menace; you're a miniature circuit breaker; gojo calls you 'cookie'; mentions of food; i repeat: gojo is a MENACE; 610 wc; *empties a big container labelled 'fluff' into this fic*

belongs to the series 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate' but can be treated as a stand-alone fic if you wanna

divider by @/benkeibear; pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this; jjk isn't mine

"do you like that dress?"

you shouldn't look this surprised, no. hell no.

you know gojo's been sitting beside you for the better part of the last fifteen minutes. and you know he has a rather sharp set of eyes, with or without his 'six eyes' activated— yet you do look surprised. terribly so— and the man wonders, what made you think he would not notice you staring at the bright piece of cloth in the shop window.

particularly when you've left your favourite ice cream on the brink of melting and falling on your uniform— not that it'll make it any dirtier though; the curses from before have done a splendid job of it...

stealing a bite from your cone, gojo plops back into his seat. the grin threatening to bloom on his lips wilts when he sees the surprise turn into something shocked, maybe even scandalised in your features— eyes wider, brows higher, lower jaw hanging lower...

he lets the grin form anyway. "what? your ice cream was melting— i cannot let the money i spent to buy it, go to waste now, can i?"

you snap your mouth close in less than an instant. then open it again to take quite a large bite from your ice cream, brows scrunching and eyes screwing close— the brain freeze gojo was in wait for, for you to suffer from, never comes.

you take a second bite, even bigger.

some part of him shrivels, disappointed— before it swells up again, at the narrowed-eye look you send his way— before it dries up a second time, when your gaze returns to the dress from before.

the fabric looks extremely dull to the sorcerer now. he kicks your leg under the table. biting back a grin when you look back at him, lips in an annoyed little frown.

although it doesn't take too long to become a smile. tired, yes. but a fond one all the same— you've always been too soft to him, haven't you?

he repeats his ask, "do you like that dress?"

"i..." your gaze drops to your ice cream for a beat. then rises. a warmth settles into your cheeks, visible and adorable. "i kind of like that dress. it looks pretty." a beat. your lips part in a tentative smile. "what do you think, gojo-san? will i look good in it?"

the addressed man pauses.

but it is not because he has to decide on an answer— the answer is a yes. a resounding yes— still, he doesn't find the voice to say the word, the monosyllable repeated over and over and over again in his brain—

"you always look beautiful to me, cookie. no matter what you wear."

the shocked, scandalised expression makes a return to your face, not a moment later than when the words leave his mouth.

only to be shoved away when you attempt to take such a huge bite of your melting ice cream, the chocolate chip treat ends up caking a big portion of the lower half of your face— from your nose and extending till your chin.

gojo doesn't bother to hold back his laughter this time— its loudness increasing at the resulting wrinkle in your nose when he reaches over to scoop up a bit of the mess with his fingers, then licks it off them—

"you're a disgusting man," you mutter, voice so mortified and frail as your gaze keeps jumping from his hand to his blindfolded eyes.

something curls up inside the sorcerer. the sensation growing worse, growing better, the longer he stares at this precious little face you've made:

"and you're a cookie— my choco chip cookie!"

the reader is an mcb— reasons for which, i hope, u all hv understood by now 🤭🤭

masterlist

[1hot-mess-express1]

Changes

(Toji X Reader)

Synopsis: Toji gets a new job and looks hot in a suit

CW: (thinking about) Oral (male receiving), (role play) boss/employee dynamics, language (obvs it's Toji)

AN: This is still pretty short (1.1K) but I'm working my way up to longer fics, definitely haven't written smut in ages so I kind of chickened out there at the end haha

Convincing Toji to settle down and get a ‘real’ job went about as well as one would imagine. He was all teeth and mean comments about how you’d miss the money, how you’d fall out of shape, even going as far as to say that he needs time away from you on jobs for your relationship to work out—but you know Toji, he didn’t mean any of that. He’s just slow to change, no matter what that change is, but especially if that change is someone else’s idea, even you, his sweet, beautiful, second chance at life, the calm after the storm. 

Just as you were about to give up hope on pulling Toji out of his dangerous career, you heard his heavy footsteps descending the stairs of your home. His muttered words were barely audible but hinted at a brewing storm. You wiped your hands on your apron, wondering what possibly could have him this riled up so late into your evening. Maybe Shiu called him for another extended job that would have him away from home for a few weeks. You step into your living room with bated breath, praying that you’re wrong, hoping that you can play house with him for a bit longer before you’re reminded of what your husband really does for work. What you saw there was nothing short of astonishing. 

Toji stands in the middle of your shared living room, trying to button the cuffs of his button-down shirt. His large hands slip away from the too-small buttons, turning the task into a nightmare as he groans, eyebrows knit, and jaw clenches. You think for a moment that he must not have detected your presence as he continues to struggle and swear under his breath until he pulls you from your thoughts. 

“Ya just gonna sit there staring at me, or are ya gonna come help me with this stupid fucking shirt,” he turns to face you, and you see a light blush dusting the tips of his cheeks as he drops moves a hand to run through his hair, avoiding your gaze. 

He has an expensive black suit jacket over the light button-down, slacks, and matching dress shoes. His unruly mop of hair looks like it’s been pushed back a bit to look more professional. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Toji in anything this nice before, not even at your wedding; he insisted on wearing jeans and sneakers (mostly cause you wouldn’t let him go shoeless-- yes, that too was a fight). 

He must have noticed your gawking cause he snaps at you again, “Hey! Woman, come put those tiny fingers to good use for once,” the corner of his lips pull into a devilish smirk, and suddenly your face is heating up at the realization that he caught you gawking. 

“Y-yeah, sorry,” you say, making your way to stand in front of him. Staring intently at the tiny opalescent buttons on his wrist, you try desperately to avoid his burning eyes, which are burning holes into the back of your head. 

Your delicate fingers slip the pretty button into its home as your eyes start to linger, raking over his built thighs, noting how the fabric clings deliciously to the well-built muscle there. Fuck, if you’re really looking, just under the simple leather belt, you can see the shape of his fat cock through the light fabric. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as your mouth goes dry. Daring a glance upward, you can see how the fabric of his dress shirt pulls slightly as if his chest barely fits in the damn thing; the well-fit blazer only makes his shoulders look impossibly bigger.

“Hey, I’ve got two hands, airhead,” he chuckles breathly into your ear, causing the hairs on your neck to stand straight up as he moves to gently kiss your temple. 

“S-so uh, what’s with the outfit?” you curse yourself momentarily for letting him know how much he affects you; even after all these years, he still makes your body react with the simplest touch. 

You feel his body freeze for a moment at the side of your head before speaking, “Oh uh, Shiu got me a job; I’ll be security at one of those upscale clubs downtown,” he buries his face into the side of your hair mumbling his words into it, “Why? You don’t like it, doll?”

After fastening the second button, your arms wrap gently around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer, “No, I love it actually, just a little surprised, is all.” Your fingers begin to card through the hair at the nape of his neck, causing goose flesh to rise as Toji wraps his arms around your midsection, pulling you closer to him. 

“Tell me how much you love it, beautiful,” he whispers into your ear. His fingers play with the tie of your apron as his other hand snakes under your shirt, and warm hands trace circles in the small of your back. 

A shiver runs through your spine before you speak, “You look handsome, honey. Like some executive business prick…definitely the type of guy to fuck around with his secretary.” You can hear him chuckle as he moves to place open-mouth kisses under your ear, enjoying the way you start to fidget within his grasp. 

“Keep going, baby.”

You let out an audible gasp when he nibbles on your ear lobe, hand moving down to caress the fat of your ass under your pants. “You look so big in that suit, Toji, like a strong, respectable businessman.” You let out a breathy laugh at the last part as Toji places his behind your neck, craning down so your noses just barely brush one another. 

“Is that right, doll? Ya wanna be my good little secretary then? Hm?” He bites gently at your bottom lip, pulling your hips in closer so you can feel all of him better. “Ya gonna be a good girl n suck me off under the table? Gotta keep quiet though or everyone in the office will know you got that promotion on your knees” You let out a breathy moan at the thought of having your mouth stuffed full with his cock, drool cascading down the sides of your mouth and staining your pencil skirt as he speaks with employees as if you aren’t below him, gagging, trying desperately to stay quiet. The thought alone has you pressing your thighs together as he moves his hand to trace over the gloss on your bottom lip, smearing the sticky substance around and staring with a predatory gaze at how you part your lips to lick at the tip of his finger before he presses it further into your mouth. You wrap your lips around the digit and stare up at him with those pleading eyes like you were begging to have his dick down your throat. Fuck, he doesn’t think he’s so mad at the change anymore, not when it means he could keep you around his office as a personal stress reliever from now on.

[ddejavvu]

could you please write spencer x touch starved reader, maybe she had a hard day and just wants cuddles or something? <3

this is like established relationship but super super early on so it's all puppy love and shy glances and giggles!!

--

You wish you were better at relationships, at being with people. There's a deep ache in your belly that tugs your heart down and your muscles up, clenching you into a ball beside Spencer on the couch. Your knees act as a resting spot for your chin, but you think a better one would be Spencer's shoulder. You're too afraid to ask, though, so you don't. You sit there and you let the ache grow bigger and bigger, sucking the life from you until you feel like if you don't touch someone you'll die.

You clear your throat, glancing over at Spencer where he's intently watching a documentary. It's on chocolate, but you haven't been paying attention for almost a half hour.

He turns his head to face you, but his eyes are glued to the screen for a few more seconds. When he finally snaps out of it he's met with your pleading gaze, and his brows raise.

"Do you need something?"

The pressure is on.

You swallow what little saliva is in your mouth, nodding slowly, "Uh, could we-? Do you think I could just..." You take a deep breath, grinding your teeth, "Can you hold me?"

He blinks. Once, twice, thrice. Then his arms fan out and reach for your shoulders.

"How do you wanna- oh," He watches you creep into his lap, and your head knocks into his chin.

"Sorry!" You rub fiercely at the reddening skin there as he waves you off, reaching a hand under your thighs to settle them on top of his.

"There," He grins down at you, sheepishly giddy as you lay against his chest, "Is that.. good?"

"Yeah," You breathe, his heartbeat thudding quickly against your ear, the fabric of his sweater scratchy on your skin, "Yeah that's good. Thanks, Spence."

He isn't sure he has it in him to respond verbally, so he reaches for your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and cupping your jaw for good measure. It holds you to his chest, and though his heartbeat slows down, no longer adrenaline-fueled from your initial touch, it stays just as strong, thump-thump-thumping away for you as you slowly melt into your shared embrace.

[javierssidechick]

Unexpected

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, age gap, mild angst, emotional vulnerability

Summary: You and Arthur Morgan are in a relationship when you discover you’re pregnant with his child. Unsure of how he’ll react, you share the news with him, and together, you face the uncertainty of your future.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a soft glow over the camp as the two of you sat together by the fire. Arthur’s focus was on his revolver, the steady rhythm of his hands cleaning it in a way that seemed second nature to him. His weathered face was illuminated by the flames, shadows dancing across the familiar lines of age and experience.

You’d known Arthur for a long time—long enough to fall in love with him, despite the differences between you, including the years separating your ages. But now, the weight of something even bigger was resting heavily on your chest. Something you hadn’t planned for, but something you couldn’t ignore any longer.

You were pregnant with his child.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and though you tried to steady your breath, it was impossible to ignore the nervous energy crawling up your spine. You shifted slightly, drawing his attention away from the gun in his hands.

"Arthur," you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady.

He looked up immediately, concern flickering in his sharp blue eyes. He could always tell when something was bothering you, even before you said a word. “What’s wrong, darlin’?” he asked, his voice low but warm, that familiar edge of roughness there even in moments of gentleness.

Your stomach churned. “I… I need to tell you something.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed, and he set the gun down, turning his full attention to you. “What is it?”

You took a deep breath, your hands trembling slightly as you clasped them together. “I’m pregnant.”

The words seemed to hang in the air, heavy with meaning, and for a moment, Arthur just stared at you. His expression didn’t change much—his features still hard, still unreadable—but you could see the tension in his body, the way his hands flexed and his jaw tightened. It wasn’t anger. It was something else, something deeper.

"You sure?" he asked, his voice a little quieter than usual.

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Arthur was silent, his gaze drifting to the fire as if searching for something there. He let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture you’d come to recognize as him trying to make sense of something big.

“Shit,” he muttered, almost to himself. “That’s… somethin’.”

The quiet between you felt thick, like it was pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. You waited, your heart pounding in your ears, unsure of what he was thinking, unsure of how he’d react. Arthur had always been a man who kept his emotions close to his chest, and even after all this time, there were moments when you couldn’t quite tell what was going through his mind.

Finally, he looked back at you, his eyes softer than before. “How do you feel about it?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just stared at him, surprised that he’d asked. You swallowed hard, your voice trembling slightly as you spoke. “I’m scared, Arthur. I didn’t expect this. But… I love you. And if it’s happening, I want to face it with you.”

Arthur reached out then, taking your hand in his. His grip was firm but gentle, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in that slow, comforting way he had. “You know the kind of life we lead, darlin’,” he said, his voice rough but filled with an undercurrent of care. “It ain’t a good place for a kid. I ain’t a good man for this.”

You squeezed his hand, leaning closer to him. “You’re a good man to me, Arthur. I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

Arthur’s gaze softened, though the hard edge of his worry was still there. “I ain’t ever been a father,” he admitted, his voice quieter. “I don’t know how to be one.”

A small, tender smile tugged at your lips as you lifted your free hand to rest on his cheek. His skin was rough under your fingertips, but the warmth of his presence soothed you. “We’ll figure it out together.”

For a moment, Arthur just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a brief second. When he opened them again, they were filled with something deeper—a determination, maybe even hope.

“I ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to you or this baby,” he said, his voice steady, resolved. “You got my word.”

The relief that washed over you was almost overwhelming. Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, and you let out a shaky breath, nodding. You had always known Arthur to be a man of his word, and hearing him say that now made you believe that, somehow, everything would be okay.

He pulled you into his arms then, holding you close to his chest, his hand running through your hair as you leaned against him. His heartbeat was strong and steady, and you felt a sense of safety you hadn’t realized you needed. No matter what came next, you knew that you weren’t alone. You had Arthur by your side.

“I love you,” you whispered softly against his chest.

Arthur pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment. “I love you too, darlin’. Always will.”

[sopebubbles]

Pairing: Idol!Kim Namjoon x reader

Summary: Namjoon hasn't spoken to you in weeks, but he doesn't think that's grounds for ending your relationship.

Warnings: Joon gets a little physical, but he'd never hurt you. Namjoon and I both love cursing a lil too much. Breaking up. Mentions of cheating (you didn't) and neglect (he did), car accident, uber driver, hospital stay, elevator conversation...lmao at this point the warnings are longer than the damn story. It's not that bad. Reader is thriving (hair flip)

Wc: 1.1k, he a smol boi, I don't usually do small drabbles like this so let me know if you liked it in the comments 💜

P.s. this isnt any specific Minho, he's just a Minho but if you like, you're free to envision him as the Minho of your choosing. I don't control your mind.

A whole month had passed. Five weeks, in fact, and you hadn't seen or heard from Namjoon. Granted a whole one of those weeks had been spent in the hospital, but that clearly hadn't mattered to him. You hadn't been avoiding him. Not exactly. You'd think living in the same building would make you more likely to run into him, but it hadn't been that way even when your relationship was good. Now all it took was not actively seeking him out and you had managed to go thirty-four whole days without seeing him. When you saw the clench of his jaw, you were certain you could have gone much, much longer. You passed him and entered the building before rolling your eyes at him.

It was late and your heels on the marble floor of the lobby as you clipped your way to the elevators was the only apparent sound. A set of metal doors opened immediately to accept you, and you could only hope that he would wait for a different elevator. But then, when have things with Namjoon ever gone like you'd hoped?

The large man—has he gotten bigger?—stepped into the car with you and all but pinned you against the wall when the doors closed. You could only stare up at him with your jaw set just as tense as his.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He growled, and not in the sexy way he sometimes did. He was fuming.

"What?"

"Don't fucking act like I didn't see what I saw!"

"What did you see?" You asked defiantly.

His hand clenched into a fist at his side as if he wanted to punch the wall beside you. "I saw you cheating on me!"

At that you could only laugh coldly. "I can't cheat on you if we aren't dating, Namjoon," you answered casually. You reached around him to hit the button for your floor because you were just sitting there at the ground floor and anyone could open it at any time, and also because you could not wait to get to your home and out of this incredibly awkward situation. However, Namjoon caught you by the wrist to stop you from calling for your floor, instead punching his number which was several floors above yours before planting himself fully in the way of the button panel. This time you let him see you roll your eyes at his childish antics.

"What do you mean we're not fucking dating?"

You crossed your arms and moved as far away from him as you could in the small space. "We broke up, Namjoon! We haven't talked in weeks! You can't possibly think that we're still together!"

He scoffed. "Just because we haven't talked in a couple weeks doesn't mean we broke up, Yn. You know I'm busy."

You wanted to ram your head against the wall. You would risk another concussion if it meant that you could get out of this conversation. "Yes, I know! You're 'too busy for this relationship'. That's why we aren't in one. It's done!" You reminded him. "And it hasn't been a couple weeks. It's been over a month."

Surprised confusion clouded his eyes. Could it really have been that long? All the days ran into one another. His circadian rhythm was shot to hell. He had been headed for the studio just now at 11:30 at night before he saw you and changed course. "We can't just be broken up because you decided. Not without talking about it," he charged.

This time you actually did hit your head against the gold panel of the elevator. "Do you even fucking hear yourself? Do you know the last time we had a conversation?"

"You can't break up with me in the middle of a comeback. It's like dumping a guy when he's away at war."

"I don't have the capacity to explain to you how wrong that is. You made a choice not to think about me. We've been broken up for over a month and you didn't even notice because that's how little you think of my when I'm not right in front of your fucking face, and it was a lot longer than that since you paid any attention to me. You said the relationship wasn't working for you with your life, and I agreed. Ergo, end of fucking relationship."

As usual, Namjoon found it easy to ignore all of your real issues and concerns in your relationship when he knew he was in the wrong. "So who the fuck is he if he's so much better than me? Huh? Where did you meet him?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but his name is Minho and he was my nurse," you said in a considerably calmer voice.

Namjoon took a second to try to process that. "What do you mean your nurse?"

You took the deepest breath you could before answering. "Do you remember the night I kept calling you and you didn't answer and you told me you didn't have time to worry about our relationship? Aka the night we broke up?" The look on his face told you he had only a vague recollection of that. Probably there were a lot of nights he felt he didn't have time for you. "Do you remember how we were supposed to go out the night before, but you didn't show up and then you didn't hear from me for twenty-four hours?" Namjoon shrugged slightly. That he did remember, at least the letting you down part. He figured your lack of communicating had been you being angry and punishing him, but by the next evening he had already forgotten. "Well, I took an uber home. We got in an accident. The seat belt broke and I was ejected from the car. I spent a week in the hospital. And it was Minho who helped fix me up. When I was discharged he asked me if he could take me out on a date and we vibed so i said yes."

Namjoon shrank a little where he stood. "Why didn't you–" he let the foolish question die on his lips. "I'm sorry."

You shrugged. "It's done. You made it clear what you could give and it wasn't what I needed. If we could have communicated, maybe things could have been different, but that wasn't meant to be. It's better this way."

Namjoon felt defeated. He had truly liked you, imagined himself to be in love even, but he knew that he couldn't make such a claim when his actions didn't measure up. If he could go back in time, he would at least try to do things differently. But the past was passed, and so were you. The elevator dinged and the doors at his back opened. He looked at you regretfully.

"Goodnight, Namjoon. I hope everything works out for you," you said sincerely.

Namjoon nodded his head and slowly stepped off the elevator. "Take care, Yn," he said before the doors closed on you.

A/n: this came about bc beastie and I are currently obsessed with secure attachment styles and that means saying goodbye when someone says they can't give you what you need. Know your worth, honey. Also sorry for being so punchy in the notes, I've been up since 4am.

Permanent taglist: @halesandy @burningupp-replies @lilacdreams-00 @minclangyyy @yonkimint @wholockian1 @cbgdoll @babycoffeefire @theatren3rd @bri-mal @armytwist @hwayne2294 @crish-mac @hey-itsmina @jikooksgirl19 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @lxvelyjiminie @marvelfamily3000 @borahae-reads @shadowyjellyfishfest @yoongiigolden @staerryminimini @valhallawhispers @m4gg13-g @i-have-no-life-charlie

[luvrkay]

Soon, I promise

-Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

-aged up katsuki(22), established relationship, fingering, oral(fem!rec) crying, begging, orgams denial, orgasm control, unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating, overstimulation

Katsuki can be so mean, especially when he pushes your legs back, feet dangling in the air near your head, and slowly sinks his cock into your warm, wet walls once again. Your eyes shut, fist clenched by your sides as your walls are stretched out by Katsuki’s fat cock.

He’s been edging you on for the past hour, snatching away your orgasms as quickly as they come.

It doesn’t matter if his head has disappeared between your legs, blonde hair peaking out, you don’t hesitate to run your fingers through it, trying to keep his head there when you feel yourself get closer to the edge, but Katsuki is bigger than you, stronger than you. The second he feels you clenching down on his tongue he’s gripping both of your wrists in one of his hands and forcing your hands away from his head.

"tch"

He could have three fingers stuffed in your cunt, fucking them in and out of you quickly, but the second your moans start to get louder, and your slick walls get impossibly tighter around his fingers, he’s pulling out. He ignores your whines and pleas, begging for him to let you cum just once.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he’ll coo mockingly at you, thumbing away the tears that threaten to fall down your pretty face.

“feel s’good baby” he huffs out, teeth biting at the sensitive skin on your neck. Katsuki pulls out, leaving nothing but his tip in before he’s snapping his hips against yours. Your eyes snap open, a loud high pitched moan falls from your lips, instantly meeting Katsuki’s bright red eyes. He stares deep into your eyes as he continues to fuck deep into you.

“kats, please” you beg, tears flood your lash line as you feel yet another orgasm approach, heat pools in your stomach as the familiar tightening returns. He gives you a quick peck on the lips before the same sinister smile from earlier is returning. A whine falls from you unconsciously.

“soon princess, I promise” he says again, he made that same promise three denied orgasms ago and its starting to get to you. You’re covered in sweat, skin damp and sticky, strands of hair clings to your forehead and you can barely form coherent sentences at this point, all you can do is whine and cry. “just a little while longer. Can you be a good girl and wait just a little longer?”

You nod immediately, despite wanting to shake your head repeatedly, because you’re a good girl and good girls take whatever is given to them.

He smashes his lips to yours in a heated kiss. The kiss is wet and messy and when you finally pull away for air, there’s a strand of saliva connecting your mouths.

Soon comes sooner than you expected because moments later Katsuki is rubbing fast circles on your clit. His lips travel over your neck and jaw, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses on the soft skin.

“cum for me princess” that’s all it takes for your orgasm to rip through you, your jucies gush out of you, white cream coating katsuki’s dick as he fucks it right back into you. Two more thrusts and Katsuki is coming deep inside of you, dick twitching as he finally empties his heavy balls.

you're not expecting Katsuki to move between your legs again, your body jerks forward suddenly as his tongue pokes out through his pink, plump lips to lick up and down your slit, cleaning up the mess his made. your hands find his blonde hair once again, as his tongue pushes its way past your entrance, making sure to get every drop of cum.

Masterlist

AN: I’m bored so I’m taking requests! Please don’t hesitate to send some in!

[shadybiotics]

PT2 | MAUGA & VENTURE × READER headcanons

[ PT1 HERE ] writing some more for them cus i cant get enough of their dynamic

Mauga wouldnt mind sharing you, polyamory was nothing new to him and he knew better than anyone about the need of exploring ones options and the fun that can bring. Plus, whats better than one lover?

Venture on the other hand... was not so keen on the idea. Not at all actually. They werent so much the possessive type and felt quite secure about their relationship with you, but what really irked them was that it had to be him out of all people.

Not only was Mauga full of himself but he also had no respect or consideration for anything other than materialistic goods and shiny things, or at least thats how Sloane viewed him.

If you had some fun with Mauga, Venture would know. Not because you bragged about it but because the sneaky bastard would leave hickeys only others could notice. Some behind your ear or the back of your neck, something you could, and often did, very easily miss.

If him and Venture had yet another argument prior, he would no longer bother trying to hide his markings. Instead, he would make sure they were as dark and as many as possible and would then leave the problem of covering them to you. He knew that Sloane would know it was him and that only irritated the archeologist further.

Forget about Mauga, what irritated Venture the most was how he pulled these little stunts and played these games at your expense.

But Venture was no better. Venture tried being the bigger person but they just couldnt. They were both childish in that sense.

So Venture played along. And when you spent the night with them instead, they'd make sure to leave something for the eyes too. Something for theirs and Maugas eyes only. Little bruises and marks along your chest, ribs or thighs, something they knew only Mauga would have to see sooner or later. Venture would then coax you to mark them as well in easy to spot places; neck, jaw. Hoping for that to be a silent but strong enough 'fuck you' to Mauga. They would even strain their neck and keep their chin high to make sure he would notice.

Even tho they disliked eachother they knew how to act civil and put aside their bickering when they wanted to. Sometimes, all three of you needed a break, some time to relax, so you would go out to a bar. Sometimes it would be a club, depending on the mood.

Mauga would keep ordering you a round of shots or some fun sounding cocktails, or whatever you picked out when he offered to get you something. It was cute at first, issue was he didnt know when to stop. Or he didnt want to stop.

With one large arm around your shoulders, he would pass you drink after drink.

Whatever you picked he ordered for himself too. There being a very obvious difference in mass, he wouldnt feel a difference while you felt the alcohols effect very quickly. But Mauga didn't see a problem. You were all here to let loose, no?

Venture would juggle between nonalcoholic beverages and some light booze while they cautiously watched you drink, unsure of Maugas intentions. With each passing glass they saw you get more bubbly, more chatty and more touchy... with everyone.

For the sake of your own dignity, they told themself, Venture would keep you close to them so you wouldnt wander off getting touchy feely with some stranger, or even worse, Mauga.

They'd keep you close as they held you by your waist. At this point you were practically wasted, your eyes could barely stay open, so you were both sat. Venture was sure you wouldn't be able to stand if you tried to. Your hands still feeling grabby held tightly onto and squeezed their arm as you leaned heavily into their body.

Mauga, enjoying himself like nothing, would try and snatch you away for a dance, feeling only slightly tipsy now, but Venture would quickly swat his pesky hands away letting you rest unbothered some more.

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Title: Union

Yandere! The ‘General!’ x fem! Reader!

(Mr Villain's Day Off)

Warnings: general yandere themes, toxic relationship, blood and slight(?) gore, violence (reader’s neck is bitten), idealization/fantasies of murder, implied possessiveness, and obsessiveness, implied codependent behavior.

I took liberation with this and created the custom of the General’s species biting the neck of their lover as some sort of vow. Like with Omega Au.

He’s out of character in this lmao.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/LURKERS/DNI

Disclaimer: I do not support or encourage any of the toxic and harmful behaviors/thoughts that may take place in this piece of fiction. It should not be romanticized or even considered normal as it is both extremely toxic and dangerous.

Word count: 1261k

---

His teeth hurt.

Sharp and pearly white, now stained with your blood. Your nails claw into his shoulders, his trench coat softening the impact. He’s more like a vampire and not an alien, you think. This twisted sense of… union isn’t really your thing. Not when it involves teeth and blood, the ritual being repeated once every other year, something that is expected and welcomed by his species.

You wouldn’t have minded it if you had decided to stay. But you do because you wanted out, tired of his little secrets, the long nights, the hidden phone calls. You would have rather that he was cheating on you, an unfaithful bastard who couldn’t keep it in his pants.

Instead, you got an alien who didn’t understand what ‘no’ meant.

A little too faithful, too love stricken to see past that beautiful, beautiful tinted rose filter. And he wanted the same from you, it seems. With sharp teeth and an iron grip, he held you in place, desperate after an hour of pleas that were so unlike him.

One of his hands held the back of your neck, keeping you in place. His ring feels cold, his blunt nails feel sharp, he’s stronger, bigger than you. Resistance was futile.

His teeth dig deeper, rougher. Tears form in your eyes, running down your face in big, fat streaks, sobbing into the collar of his coat. Everything is a blur, and his free hand rubs circles into your back, attempting to soothe you. It doesn’t, it makes you feel worse because it reminds you that this man is not just a monster but has feelings and guilt like everyone else –

You genuinely, genuinely hate this alien? Man? You despise him, wanted to scalp him alive, to stab a knife through his heart until the only color you could see was red. But you would never be able to do that. Nor will you be able to drive a knife through your own heart just to escape your dammed faith.

“I’m sorry, please endure it for a bit longer…,” he gasps out before he sinks his teeth into your neck again. Your own dug into his hair, fingers pulling at his roots. The tears don’t stop and neither does his bite.

“Hurts – it hurts!” sobbing, you still attempt to push and pull his head away, but to no avail. It’s a miracle you’re still alive, breathing, and able to think. Crimson runs down your neck, stains your pretty lacy white shirt, all the while the man enjoys his sweet, sweet time with you. Like enjoying a juicy steak.

“…Hah… it’s done,” his tone, despite being comforting, was a shrill scream in your ear. His tongue pokes out, only to lick the wound, saliva mixing in with blood. It’s slimy and roughish, with a squishiness to it. Like a warm wet rag pressed against your neck. The only difference being it’s an organic tongue and not some fabric.

“… I’m sorry,” another lick, another circle rubbed onto your back. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts –

“I know it hurts… I forgot how… fragile humans could be. I’m sorry.” Too tired to fight back anymore, you fall limp in his embrace. Your jaw goes slack, eyelids too heavy to keep open. The void is calling for you.

You should have rejected his help, that day. You should have carried those heavy bags up the stairs that day, even if it meant you would have pulled a muscle or two. You should have ignored him when you kept running into him, both of you surprised to see the other so frequently. You should have kept your mouth shut and feelings hidden, your confession forgotten and your first kiss nonexistent.

Should have done this, should have done that – it’s too late to wallow in the past. The mirror cracked long ago, just like your sense of self. Like your trust in the one person who should have been your ‘everything.’ Whatever that was.

Something you realized was harmful for you, but he refused to acknowledge it. To accept it.

You should have rejected his invitation to his apartment. To get your stuff back. You should have avoided him instead of still trusting him once he let his true identity slip through that tongue of his. How naïve and stupid of you.

Stupid, stupid, stupid girl.

“I haven’t felt this way about anyone, before.”

Neither have you.

“You make me rethink my stance on humans.” He sits you down on his couch, reaching for the medical supplies sitting at the side. He prepared for this. He’s always been ready for this.

You never had a say-so in the matter. How cruel.

“You make me question myself, and what I’m fighting for.” Your eyes shut close, a towel – wet and warm – pressed against the open wound. He holds it there for a good while. Assuring that his prized ‘lover’ would be patched up in no time.

“Our customs are different from yours. It’s painful, even for us. But you don’t have to relive this pain.” You’re vaguely aware of the cotton ball, of the scent of medical ointments and the towel being pressed against the bleeding wound once more. You’re too tired to open your eyes, but you fear you might die if you don’t.

“… You should… have let me go.” It’s broken and weak, almost less than a whisper, but you manage to talk. It’s painful and took extreme amounts of effort, but you talked. You almost wish you would die – but the fear of meeting nothing but a black abyss on the other side of the road scares you more than this fiend.

He doesn’t say anything. Just tends to the wound that he inflected on you like it was just another Tuesday night. You never asked for this. You would have never asked for this, the pain, the betrayal he’s hidden from you these past two years.

You almost wish he only said ‘yes’ just to use you. A sick twisted sense of humor, a past time he could always forget at a later date. Amusement that would grow boring, dull. A toy he could have left in an open field, neither destroying it nor loving it.

If this was a romance story, then this would have been the best ending. Two crossed-star-lovers who put aside their differences to be together. One changing his view on the ‘enemy’ because his sweetheart was from that group. They fail to show the ugly side of ‘love.’

You had chosen a rotten apple and now it has poisoned you.

“… I know that you must hate me.”

You do, you hate him as much as you fear him.

“But I…”

Ring!

Ring!

Ring!

His phone goes off exactly three times before he fishes it out of his coat pocket, a sneer displayed on his mouth. His teeth show, dyed red. Still sharper than a knife.

You don’t get to see the caller ID.

“– General! Listen, I know that it is your off day – “

“Get to the point. I’m giving you five seconds before I hang up.”

You don’t get to hear the conversation, either. You could barely feel the wet rag dabbing your neck. Or the smell of herbs. You wonder if he would let you die just like this. Or if he would find a way to ‘save’ you.

Nothing matters anymore, you suppose.

Not when the ‘General’ decided that you were lovelier than a rose and brighter than the stars amongst a darken sky.

[wntrs0ldier]

An Offer · part 02

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 3,4k warnings: typical mafia (dark themes, language, violence, etc.), Brock Rumlow

<previous part | next part> | series masterlist

series summary: When your father dies, the only thing you can do for your family and the empire he built, is to marry a powerful man.

chapter sneak peek: Bucky’s jaw tightened, his nostrils flared, and his chest grew bigger as he took a deep breath through the nose. His mouth curved into a bitter smile. He stared at Brock for a while longer, then moved away, as if he intended to leave you two alone.

On your way to a meeting with Brock Rumlow and his father, you wondered what it would cost you to jump out of a moving car. Would something like that be worse than marrying Brock and becoming part of his Family? The Family, which was mainly in the business of prostitution and drugs? Actually, drugs were an issue that you tolerated. But the vision of a relationship – arranged or not – with a pimp made you nauseous.

And all you knew about Brock was that he was hot-tempered, impulsive and aggressive, but this wasn’t uncommon among gangsters. 

You also remembered what Bucky said.

Do you honestly believe Brock Rumlow will hold up his part of the deal? Did you forget his relationship with women or are you just going to overlook it?

“Try to keep an open mind.” You heard Michael. The sound of his voice managed to stop the chaos in your head. “James can be persuasive and thinks he knows everything. But remember he is not in your situation and never will be, so try not to turn against me. Focus on the welfare of the Family.”

You restrained yourself from snorting at his words. Focusing on the welfare of the Family and business had become one big headache for you – it was giving you sleepless nights, eating you alive, and Michael was asking you for more. You were already tired, stressed and sick to your stomach. 

The car stopped outside the pub that Rumlows had proposed for a meeting, and as soon as the engine was turned off, and you realised the seriousness of the situation and how close you were to it, you felt an overpowering sense of anxiety and panic. Your breathing became uneven, the inside of your hands damp with sweat. 

You jumped uneasily as the driver opened the door for you.

“I need a moment.” You were able to focus enough to make your voice sound normal, and the words left your mouth almost flawlessly. “I’ll just fix my makeup.” 

Being alone in the car was somehow helping, but you still couldn't bring yourself to exit the vehicle – that step led straight to a meeting with Brock Rumlow.

“What is going on?” You heard a muffled voice that belonged to neither Michael nor the driver, so you looked up at the side window. Bucky was standing just by the car door, he wasn't speaking to you but to Michael. 

“She wanted a few minutes for herself.” 

Frowning, Bucky looked inside the car through the window, and you could easily see the confusion in his eyes. For a moment, you just looked at each other – you with pure mess in your head, and he as if trying to read your mind from the expression on your face. He grabbed the handle, and a refreshing spring air burst inside the car.

“Hey,” Bucky spoke gently, leaning towards you. “You okay?”

“I-” you gasped. Closing your eyes, you took the biggest possible breath you could afford right now. “I'm not sure I want to go there.”

Bucky stared at you in silence, a pained concern spreading across his face. He clenched his jaw.

“I’m sorry,” you continued in a trembling voice. “I don't normally get all-... like that. I’m not a child,” you were babbling mindlessly, fearing that otherwise he would have thought you were a spoiled hysteric.

“I know,” Bucky said immediately, cutting off your train of thought. “Listen…” he began with a hesitation. He let out a quiet sigh and wetted his lips. “We go there and it'll all be over soon. You don’t have to make any decisions yet,” he stated. “I'll be there the whole time. And I won't let anyone hurt you. Alright?” His voice was soft, delicate, but firm and decisive at the same time. “We’ll get out of there anytime you want, huh?”

The longer you stared at Bucky's face, the less anxious you felt. You genuinely believed you would be safe with him. You didn't have the head to wonder why you trusted him implicitly at that moment, but one thought automatically came to you – you needed someone like him in that situation; someone who didn't pressure you. 

You nodded, and Bucky smiled. He seemed to relax a little, as if a wave of relief had spread through his body.

“I don’t want to be late.” You sounded weak, embarrassed by the scene from a moment ago. But it looked like Bucky was pretending not to see anything.

“They set the meeting in a pub,” he said with a disapproval that was not far from disgust. “Make them wait.” 

Brock greeted you with a smile that faded as soon as Bucky entered the building. Rumlow Senior did a much better job of hiding his displeasure, but still watched him with caution. Bucky, on the other hand, seemed to be completely calm. Bored even.

Brock invited you to a booth, where you and Michael took a seat. Brock and his father sat opposite, and Bucky grabbed a chair from another table and moved it a little closer.

“Seriously,” Brock finally spoke up, indicating impatience. “What's this clown doing here?”

“You don’t know what clowns do, Brock?” Bucky answered. “They make people smile.” He reached for the knife attached to his belt. “Wanna try? I can give you one.”

You watched Bucky and your mouth went dry. You thought it was inappropriate, to say the least – you were sitting in front of, presumably, your future husband, but it was someone else who made you need to wet your throat and collect your thoughts. You had an unclear sense of how Bucky was affecting you, but you told yourself that any handsome man would make a similar impression on you. And Bucky was just that. Beautiful with his blue, sad eyes, nose perfect in every way, and pink, plump lips. Well-built as far as your eyesight could reach. He smelled nice; not as strong and overwhelming as the men you usually came into contact with. And his hair must have been really soft to touch…

Shaking your head to get rid of these thoughts, you reached for the glass of ice water standing in front of you. You stuck your guilt-filled gaze into the table top and dipped your lips into the cold, refreshing liquid.

Michael cleared his throat. “We should get to business.”

The beginning of the conversation was similar to what you had already heard that night when Timothy Barnes turned up at your house. You all knew what the deal was supposed to be about, but Michael had been going over it from the start – he wanted to make sure that there were no misunderstandings, and that the Rumlow Family would not actually use the agreement against yours.

You wondered why Brock didn't interfere; why he didn't have questions, didn't ask for correction or clarification of any issue. And when you glanced at him you noticed that he was looking at you in a way that made you even more nauseous. You couldn't compare it to the situation when John Walker was watching you. Although he was doing it inappropriately, it wasn't harmful. Brock, on the other hand, had something so rejecting and disgusting in his look that you would rather have disappeared out of his sight.

We’ll get out of there anytime you want.

Having remembered Bucky's words, you turned your gaze to him. Yet Bucky wasn’t focusing on you. Running his fingertip over the blunt side of the knife, he stared at Brock.

“How much exactly is there to take over?” Rumlow Senior asked.

“Well…” Michael sighed heavily. “An art gallery, two casinos; one here, the other in Atlantic City, three real estates, shares in the stock market, arms dealing for Mr. Anthony Stark…” he listed for formality; most of the Mafia community knew about each of these things. Except for the location of the real estates Michael had mentioned. “The territory of all activities, the protection of businesses in that area. And political influence.” He took off his glasses and wiped them with a handkerchief from his jacket. “As long as, of course, you take care of such friends,” he told Brock. “And I must admit that we would prefer to maintain good relationships with them.”

“Cross out the gallery,” you said. “It belongs to me only, and I decide what happens to it.” You seemed surprisingly assertive to everyone in the room, and when you noticed the perplexed looks on both Rumlows’ faces, you forced a falsely sweet smile. 

“If that's your only condition…” Brock replied.

“Not really,” Bucky interjected, casually scratching his back with the knife he had played with earlier. “Y/N will have a full view of what is happening with the things she owns. I'm talking about casinos and everything else,” he clarified blandly. “And one hundred percent decision-making in major changes.”

You glanced uneasily at Bucky. Since you had no idea about running your father's business, you didn't need all this. But you understood his strategy – Bucky wanted to secure you against Brock. 

Brock clenched his fists and took a deep breath. Looking at him, you thought involuntarily of a bull provoked by a red rag. “What's all this? A fucking prenup?”

Rumlow Senior put his hand on Brock’s shoulder. “Of course,” He smiled mysteriously, ignoring his son's anger. “Miss Y/N will have total control over her father's business. Provided that a male descendant is born within one year of the marriage.”

You were prepared to hear this. However, it seemed to you that Rumlow Senior had maliciously taken advantage of this condition because you and Bucky had got under his skin. 

“Write down your version of the agreement, we will do the same,” Michael broke the brief silence, his voice monotone. “We’ll compare both versions and reach the final one.”

Brock offered you something to drink, and hoping to still see something in him that would make the arrangement less painful, you agreed. Michael and Rumlow Senior stayed in the booth; it didn't bother you that they could have already started discussing points of the possible agreement. Bucky was sitting right next to them and you knew he would have intervened on your behalf. What you didn't know was why he was doing it. You didn't even have any grounds to guess, but you decided to go with the assumption that he wanted you in his debt.

You stood at the bar. Although the pub was closed, the bartender was behind the counter, ready to take your order.

“What are you drinking?” Brock asked. “To celebrate our new friendship?” He sized you up in a way that he probably thought was discreet. 

You didn't want to celebrate anything. You needed to numb yourself out.

“Tequila?” You smiled with pursed lips. 

Brock nodded at the bartender, and the man placed two small glasses and a full bottle on the counter, then poured the alcohol. You grabbed one of the glasses and consumed its content in one steady tilt. The fire burning your throat briefly distracted you from the situation you found yourself in. Grimacing, you slid the glass back to the bartender, who filled it without a word.

“That prenup, you know…” Brock started, taking a step closer to you. “You could've just asked nicely. And I would give you everything you want.” He shrugged. You didn't believe a word he said. But if he actually spoke sincerely, you guessed what he meant by ‘asking nicely’. “You didn't have to bring Barnes here to get it done for you. I'm even a bit discouraged now, to be honest.”

There was a sense of distaste in your mouth that you needed to wash away with another shot of tequila.

“You’re right. Sorry,” you said with insincere remorse, and only did so because it was some way of getting out of this confrontation alive. You believed that if you behaved submissively enough, Brock would leave you alone. But, actually, you felt like laughing. Yes, Brockie, you thought. You’re a genius; so smart, so perfect. And a fucking prick. 

“On second thought… You can still ask nicely. I will listen to you in private, what about that?” He moved even closer to you. One of Brock's hands found its way to your hip. Immediately the other followed, and before you knew what was actually happening, Brock was pressing you against his body.

“Take your hands off me, please.” There was no panic in your voice, just patience. 

“Why?” He didn't even pretend to be surprised by your request. “Don't you think we should get to know each other better? We don't have much time. I mean, only a year? Minus nine months or whatever,” he added, and it sounded much more disgusting than you could've imagined.

“Get your fucking hands off her, Rumlow, or I’ll break them.”

You didn't even notice when Bucky appeared nearby. The anger, although controlled, was still visible on his face. And it seemed entirely justified to you – Bucky had warned you and Michael about Brock from the very beginning.

Rumlow stepped back reluctantly. “What's the big deal? We are almost married!”

“Do you remember signing anything, Brock? Huh?” Bucky said with apparent calm. “Maybe you do because coke has fried your fucking brain.” 

Trying to intimidate him, Brock stood right in front of Bucky. But Bucky turned out to be unfazed by it. 

“It will happen. Sooner or later, ‘cause there’s no more profitable candidate on the market, and you know that,” Brock muttered. “And sooner rather than later I’m going to fuck her.” He nodded in your direction. “But don't worry, we'll name our first son James. Or maybe not, since that name seems to bring bad luck. I already know one James who put his daddy in a grave.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, his nostrils flared, and his chest grew bigger as he took a deep breath through the nose. His mouth curved into a bitter smile. He stared at Brock for a while longer, then moved away, as if he intended to leave you two alone.

“That’s right, Buck. Stay out of it.” Brock turned back to you. “Where were we?” He licked his lips. 

He didn't manage to get close to you again. Two hands landed on his shoulders and jerked with such force that Brock fell onto a nearby table. Before he had a chance to do something, Bucky came at him, taking a couple heavy steps. With one hand, he grabbed his shirt and held him in place; with the fist of the other, he punched him in the face hard enough to make Brock stagger again. This, however, enraged him enough to regain some control – Brock attacked Bucky, and he took that gladly.

They exchanged a few blows; Bucky aimed his nimbly and precisely, Brock seemed to strike blindly. And that's probably why he ended up on the floor, with Bucky's shoe print on his dark T-shirt.

Brock was catching his breath and Bucky observed his work, but he didn't finish it off. He stood more or less in the same place from which he had pushed Brock. 

You enjoyed it. A lot. It wasn't necessarily about Brock getting what he deserved, but the spectacle itself. Men punching each other – the kind of violence you loved in some twisted way, especially when there was alcohol running through your veins.

Michael and Rumlow Senior were also watching the whole scene. Neither of them intended to react, and both looked as if they were witnessing a fight between two teenagers too young to control their anger and raging hormones. 

“Hey…” You turned to the bartender. “Can I get a cloth and some ice?”

Rumlow whispered something to Michael, then helped his son up. “Let’s go, you-” he growled, his mouth set in a hard line. Michael left the pub behind them, presumably to smooth things over.

The bartender placed a clean cloth and a glass filled with ice cubes on the counter. You poured them onto the cloth and folded it, making a cold compress. 

When Bucky appeared at the bar, you glanced at him without saying a word. Although the redness stretching from his temple to his cheekbone was quite clear to see, you carefully studied his entire face, trying to find something else there. You weren't sure what exactly, but you were somehow satisfied to notice in his eyes traces of cooled anger slowly turning to consternation.

Again, Bucky was allowing you to come into wordless contact with him, so without any resistance you lowered your gaze to his right hand, resting loosely on the surface of the counter. His knuckles looked much worse than his face, but it didn't surprise you – he threw more punches than he took. 

As you looked up at his face, you caught his eyes. They were bored into you.

“Are you going to say anything?” he asked, breaking the silence between you.

“If it was about me, I would say it wasn't the smartest thing you could have done,” you answered, reaching for the prepared compress. You enjoyed the show, but you were worried Bucky had gotten himself into trouble because of that, and it was your fault.

You lifted the compress to his face and pressed it to the side, and he didn't even blink. 

“Well, it was about you,” he threw out casually, without making the slightest effort to convince you that this was indeed the case. 

“Sure,” You pressed the compress harder, making Bucky wince slightly. 

“I’m sorry. I’m being snarky,” he sighed.

“It’s okay. You got every right to be angry,” you claimed. “Brock shouldn’t have brought up your dad like that.” 

“You’re right,” Bucky agreed, his voice bland once again. “I could have punched him earlier. Before he even started talking’.”

You smiled slightly and tilted your head, looking at him with the least believable disapproval there was.

“How's your pain?” you asked softly, nodding at his hand. 

Bucky looked at it too, then lifted it off the counter, bent and stretched his fingers. “It’s nothing,” he stated, although you could see that the bloody wounds were making him uncomfortable.

The door of the pub slammed, so you both instinctively looked in that direction. You've never seen Michael so annoyed before.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” he scolded Bucky. “Do you have any idea what you just did? Now I have to somehow convince the Rumlows not to give up on us.”

“For what?” Bucky bit back. “To sell your protege to these fu-”

“Watch your tone.”

“Michael,” you began. You intended not only to express your opinion, but also to give Bucky some space; to take Michael off of his back. “You don’t have to convince the Rumlows to anything.”

Michael raised his eyebrows. “How come?”

“Well…” you hesitated, nibbling on your bottom lip. You were aware that he was trying to save your father's life's work, and you weren't making it any easier for him. But it was time to face the truth – Brock was the worst possible candidate. “I don’t think my marriage with Brock will work out. Rumlow Senior doesn’t want to cooperate, he just wants more power. And Brock couldn’t care less about business.” In reality, you had no idea if it was actually the truth. But some gut instinct told you to plant a seed of doubt in Michael. 

And you knew you had succeeded – Michael was silent, considering something.

“All right,” he said. “I will contact Rumlow Senior one last time. If they agree to our terms, we will meet with them again. If they demand more, no deal will be done.”

The situation wasn't ideal, but at least you had bought yourself some time.

“And one more thing,” Michael added. “This is the last meeting you attended.” He looked at Bucky. “Whether it's Brock or any other candidate, I don't want to see you. I will not accept you messing with Y/N's head. I want you to stay away from her. Is that clear?” 

At first glance, Bucky seemed unmoved. But there was something in his eyes – something strikingly similar to the way he looked at Brock before he came at him. 

“Is that clear, Mr. Barnes?”

“Yeah. I heard you the first time,” Bucky answered. He headed to the door, and without saying a word, or at least glimpsing at you, left the pub.

taglist:  @goldensunflowe-r @nefri-black @vickie5446

[inwhosereverie]

afab!reader x kyle ‘gaz’ garrick | 1.9k words

description: you were in need of relief after your boyfriend broke up with you. your last ditch effort to go in a club was not wasted.

note: my first time writing smut, i felt like i lost my vocabulary.

warnings: 18+, mating press, p in v, drunk sex, unprotected intercourse.

you stood lost as the music blare into your eardrums through your head prohibiting you from hearing your logical opinions as to why you shouldn’t even be here in the first place.

it was not your place, far and opposing to what you usually are into. you didn’t even know how to enter the place, yes, a club.. the scent of vomit, alcohol, sweat, drunk mindless people screaming and dancing through bright colorful lights you could get blinded by.

you pull the hem of your pink silk dress, nervously brushing a strand of hair off your face, brushing it behind your ear with a shaky breath walking further into the very messy place.

your reasoning, very dumb, even for you. your boyfriend of 2 years just recently broke up with you about 2 months ago.. which was still fresh in your mind and one thing you very much miss about the relationship was the physical touch, in which at first you weren’t so fond of but now you searched for—

the way he’d hold you, nestle into you, breathe you, kiss you, fuck you, you missed that. and now to find the most saddest excuse to have it, a club, get drunk, get too out of your head and finally have the guts to pull a guy out the bar for some fun time.

a dangerous yet very endearing idea you’ve been thinking every night about, your fingers never satisfied you, your thoughts weren’t enough— and maybe tonight you can finally get him out your head, wish that somebody in here would knock the longing out of you via their dick.

despite how insanely nasty your thoughts were, how everything was just about getting laid.. the way you prep yourself, look all dolled up and ready to mingle, putting yourself in a dress that felt it revealed too much of you shouldn’t go to waste no matter how embarrassed you already felt.

in all honesty, if it weren’t for your personal needs you’d be bundled up in bed, on your phone in a cozy outfit throughout the whole day and night, relaxing, enjoying your free time before you go back to work. not this, be around loud social people who slurs their words.. but you were only comforted by the thought that maybe someone here has the same intentions as you.

first thing you went to was the bar, of course, where else? you weren’t going to dance sober because you’d be sober enough to get flustered and run as if everyone was laughing at you. you wearily asked for a shot of whiskey, the only alcohol you knew that was high on its level; probably just a few shots would get you drunk.

and that you were correct, you sat down on that bar stool no longer than 30 minutes with 4 shots and you have a spinning world, your brain foggy, eyes droopy, looking around made you want to puke. but no! you have a mission! clumsily hopping off the stool, snaking your way to the dance floor.. bumping into everyone that is.

“woah.. easy there, dove.” you’ve harshly bump your shoulder against a man’s chest, you were about to tip and fall over if not for his large hands catching you around your waist, the other held you forearm in place.. your eyes fluttered up immediately from the sound of his soothing voice, a tone that immediately got your veins to pump. not only was his voice charming, so was his appearance. you didn’t realize his own slurring of words, but be damn sure you were more drunk than he was.

tall male, chiseled jaw, pretty smile, a clean faded cut, properly shaven, strong arms, handsome… very.

“drinkin’ me up well?” he teased, pulling you forward, a cheeky smile plastered on his face. “mhm.. you got the looks.” you slur, though you try to hide it willingly stumbling ahead, watching as he would slide his hand from your forearm to your hand— calloused, rough and bigger than yours yet, he held you gently now that you’ve managed to balance yourself in his hold.

“you’re not too bad yourself.” your breath hitched when he twirled you around, tugging you closer, getting your back to press against his broad chest- tipping his head forward to whisper down your ear. you felt his breath caress your jaw and cheek, the smell of alcohol coming from him. something you never knew smelt so attractive until now. he whispered, the gravely tone in his voice tickled your ear “a gorgeous babe, in fact..” it was suggestive, without even looking over your shoulder you knew the man was smirking.

you felt a shiver ran down your spine, especially when his large hand slither down your abdomen, feeling the silky fabric of your cute pink dress.. a mischievous hand resting roughly over your pelvis pushing your ass to press on his crotch. you, stupid you, mindlessly started grinding for him. you heard him sigh, keeping his hand over you, the other repositioning to your hips— the subtle grinding while following along the music as if you were only dancing.

you feel him slowly get hard over his trousers, only from the feeling of his bulge against your ass, you bit your lip by how big he felt. you never knew you were this needy for something so quickly, you were always someone who stood by your words that sex means more when there’s strings tied. you’ll stumble upon those words when you spoke of it again, now that you’re doing something you once believed was stupid and useless.

but that is a thought that will not appear in your fucked out head now that you were prompted near the edge of his bed, smelling the fragrance he’d normally use, the soft cotton of his grey sheets underneath the dim light that his bedside lamp lit. legs pushed up your chest as he rammed his cock deep into you, your silky dress somewhere on his floor.. you two couldn’t wait, even in his car on the way to his place you were already sucking his veiny dick greedily..

yes, he was drunk driving but shit he had to get you home, he just had to.

it escalated so fast but if someone like you had to bump into him, such an eye-catcher, well-dressed, drunken eyes yet your eyes still held such innocence within such a place when you looked up at him, what would you expect a man would do? he swore his brown irises was covered by his blown pupils from the sight of you. you both quickly muttered your names in-between hungry lips when you two were stumbling to get inside his house, undoing the first strap of your dress.

he’s got you where you both wanted yourself to be, underneath him with the only sounds you knew how to make were moans, whimpers, and whines of his name. lips not once leaving yours or the skin you let him behold as he marks your insides with his pre, your tightness made him growl with every hard thrusts. “fuck, y’feel good..” he breathily moan out, trailing kisses down the sides of your lips to your jawline. his room echoes the sound of his creaking bed and the slapping of skins.

you cry out of ecstasy, a pleasure you haven’t been feeling for months, or maybe even years.. a whole stranger treating your pussy better than your boyfriend ever did. “Kyle..” you called his name in such a slutty tone that it caused him to push deeper, the tip of his fat cock bullying your cervix over and over. ruining your insides as if he wants your pussy to remember every veins of his cock. his size. “mmhh, fuck, lovely.. say that again. say my name.” he grunts, his dick twitching only from the sounds you were making, his balls hitting your ass with every hard shove. “K-Kyle!” you repeat, gasping it out this time.

clawing the bottoms of your thighs while he fucks you deep, the kisses and love bites he gives from around your neck down to your collarbone and breasts making you shiver underneath him. nipping your nipples, pulling at it roughly by his teeth continuously plunging his girth into your needy little hole.

you were seeing stars, every pistons of his hips felt like he’s sobering you up. watching him lick your hardened nipples, sucking like his life depended on it only for him to stop when you clamp down around him. leaving his mouth open yet remained pressed on your small plump breast, a loud moan erupting from his throat— you felt so fucking good it made him dizzier, like you were better than any alcohol or drugs he would ever take. both your thoughts were hazy, rutting into you like a horny animal.

the sight of your head tipped over the edge of Kyle’s bed, your body rocking along with the rhythm of his hips, you felt so full- looked so full.. your gummy walls leaking around his cock creating a creamy ring around his base, the wet sounds your pussy makes mixing with both of yours’ fluids, he was sure his sheets were soaked of your juices with the way you were leaking. “shit.” he mutters, movement slowing down only to lean back and watch you through half-lidded eyes.

so fucked and stretched out beneath him, like a wonderful.. pleasurable wet dream his drunk ass had created in his head, perfection. “fuckin’ gorgeous, you are..” he praised bending back down with a smile drawing on his lips, it’s not just his drunkenness talking ‘cause you are one hell of a pull. his hands leaving your thighs alone to bring your arms above your head, pinning you further down the soft mattress of his bed.

you squealed from the sudden jolt of Kyle’s hips, plunging his cock impossibly deeper down your bullied womb, the heels of your feet hooking around the back of his thighs to hold on to while he bounces his cock into your sopping pussy. your hips jumping at the sudden friction he gives your clit, a hand in-between your sweaty bodies swiping at it with his thumb. you felt your orgasm approaching, you started to spasm— your toes started to curl, with your eyes rolling back and you arching your back.

you’ve probably met the fucking lord by how good it felt, feeling heaven just above you, you squirt painting his pelvis and thighs with your sticky cream.. “mmhh, there you go.. there she is..” he caressed the tip of his nose over your jawline with a gentle chuckle. continuing to move inside you helping you ride out your high, overstimulation hitting you like electricity when he kept going on a rhythm. the last thrusts before he nestled his dick deeper inside your sensitive little cunt shooting thick ropes of cum inside you, filling your womb.

next early morning you’ve been greeted by a strong migraine and very sore muscles especially along your inner thighs. took you a whole minute to recall bits and pieces of what happened last night, you were reminded. a panic flowing through your blood but only for it to immediately falter when you took sight of a snoring man beside you.

his lips slightly open, half his gorgeous face buried into his fluffy pillow. you’ve sobered up, just a bit hung over but you know for damn sure your drunken mind didn’t fool you when you first looked at him back at the club, he was undoubtedly something to behold. to have him pressed against you like this, a hand draped over your midriff.. the faint looming smell of sex and alcohol still lingering in the air, maybe a little more rest would do fine.. choosing to cuddle yourself closer to his warm body, missing the way Kyle would subtly smile when you did.

[imjustheremam]

HANK J. WIMBLETON

Platonic/Romantic Headcanons

Warning: this for not for kids also there will be some spoilers, if you don't like my headcanons please don't complain, also their will be some spoilers at the end.

Platonic

Hank J. Wimbleton, we all know who this grunt is, the best mercenary, assassin, and cold-blooded criminal of Nevada.

Hank is somewhere in his 30s or 40s maybe in his 50s

Hank is no joke, so meeting him will either be your demise, or give you trauma.

But you were lucky to be hired by 2bdamned (aka S.Q), which means Hank WILL have to tolerate you despite he doesn't want to. (this is my headcanon of reader)

Hank isn't the type to befriend since he only cares about missions and killing for his pleasure.

But you somehow befriending HIM the dangerous grunt in Nevada!! You basically made everyone at the S.Q fear for your safety, but hey i won't argue.

If your younger than him like 19 or lower Prepare to be grandchild because he's going to be your GRANDPA, like almost any other grandpa he takes the lead and will kinda protect or train you if your a rookie.

Even if your a medic your going out on missions since that's the reason why 2bdamned recruited you, your the supporter of the team, so Hank is going have to deal with you healing him and the others on missions.(Also Skinner will be teaching you when you get back)

Now if your older like 20 or above, Hank will treat you like Deimos and Sanford, but since you befriended him, he will treat you kindly but still be rude as always.

Hank will still act like a grandpa but if your like more older than the others he will treat you like 2bdamned only you might annoy him a little...

Even if your younger or older, hank will refuse to listen or let you treat his injuries...

But hank will help you on missions and might actually let you be his partner in crime

Now if you were just an average grunt he would've killed you unless you helped him or gave him supplies and BAM you got 1% of his trust, so good luck gaining his trust...

ROMANTIC

Now Hank isn't the type to fall in love or be romantic but hey, we're all simps let's do this.

Ok so Hank is the type of lover to take things slow because he's never been a relationship, he also isn’t much into affectionate things, so don't get too ahead.

So give him sometime, he still new to this. And when he finally gets comfortable, you then can show him your love but teach him please, isn't good at this..

Hank will only date you if your older like in your 20s or 30s, afterall he is kinda old (so those who are younger, sorry but your nothing but a grandchild to him or a random ass kid with a knife).

Hank will act like normal but he will show his kindness and love when both of you are alone, he likes to keep the relationship in secret, because he doesn't want anyone to find out especially when he has so many enemies after him.

Hank is overprotective when he on missions with you and will sometimes try his best to treat your injuries(yeah your gonna have to help him)

If your relationship gets bigger and better hank will act a little confident and might try to flirt with you when your alone with him, he will also try his best to hug you or kiss you.

But since hank can't kiss he will bonk his head softly to yours, while you give him a peck on his metal jaw or cheek.

But for his flirting it sounds like a threat but in a loving way

Hank would spy on deimos and Sanford just to learn to flirt alittle better (but sometimes he gets caught spying)

Hank is not stupid he still understand what affectionate hugs, cuddles and more but will pretend not to know just to see you teach him how or he's just doesn't want to be soft in public.

Now if the relationship is now at its highest, hank will no longer hide his relationship with you and deimos will tease the living sh!t out of you and hank...maybe...

Deimos will also help hank which hank will mostly refuse due to not liking the annoying pyro-maniac, but hank will try...maybe

2bdamned didn't actually approve of this but didn’t argue, 2bdamned let this slide since he wants you and hank to finish missions...

Sanford and Deimos actually worry about you having a relationship with Hank, like...your dating a grunt that tried to kill them (watch or play madness combat: project Nexus 2 you'll understand)

Also the A.A.H.W will also try to kidnap you or kill you just to make hank suffer...

When you and hank date, he would prefer the date to be private and secure because of A.A.H.W, Tricky, Jebus, Bandits and everyone that's trying to kill him

During dating hank will most likely keep staring at you because he doesn't know what to say or do but, but he won't lie he loves staring at you, it makes him special.

Oh but just because your dating and he loves you doesn't mean he's gonna stop being rude, he always will be rude but he goes 25% soft on you.

Your compliments and flirts will make him get flustered, to the point he might start shaking violently.

Also he will flirt with you aswell just to make you get flustered or embarrassed,

BONUS AND SPOILER ALERT!!!⚠

Remember about what I said that hank tried to kill Sanford and Deimos well, if you dated hank before destroying the project nexus.

Well Hank would still try to kill Sanford and Deimos, you however would be the one Hank will hesitate you kill...

Yandere behavior would've kicked in if he actually killed Sanford and Deimos

But we all or half of us know Hank lost the fight, so you would've try to revive his body or take him to 2bdamned,

you would not interact with him until you finally have the courage or hank would apologize to you by buying some hotdogs...

If hank won the fight, you be missing your legs as hank kill deimos and Sanford, after that hank give you one last soft bonk in the forehead before... finishing the mission... and yeah the end

" I'm sorry y/n.. but I can't have you stop me... " he said as he stares down at you, seeing your legs were cut off by his sword as you watch in horror, in pain...hurt.... he crouches down and leans his head, until both his and your foreheads touched as you close your eyes slowly and... fall alseep... forever

Its is all I could imagine hank also I'm working on the main 4 yandere request but my part-time job took away all my days off but I'm close to finishing it...

[enam3l]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMYHUKpBj/

Three words: Dad! Eddie Munson

Ok well I'm obsessed? I was literally just gonna reply like I love this but no I got too carried away and produced one of the most random and bizarre fics I've ever done. I'm sleep deprived okay!

the munson sandwich (rockstar eddie x reader)

/ hella fluff / taglist and requests open

you can see all rockstar eddie x reader stories and lore at #enam3ls rockstar eddie or the masterlist! and check out my new series love, lola

Should kids sleep in their parents bed? It was always going to be a bone of contention. Eddie was to the core, a clinger, he wanted to be in physical contact with you constantly. So you knew from the get go it would be no better (if not worse) with your children. After reading all the parenting books your brain could handle before imploding, you decided you didn't have a strong opinion either way on whether kids slept with you or not. 

However, once you had Sloane, both of you were so besotted, it wasn't even a question. As if meant to be, she fitted perfectly between you and Eddie in bed. Every night you would all get cosy and form the Sloane Sandwich. A perfect recipe with a slice of mom and dad and in between was the filling of Sloaney Bologna (a nickname coined by Eddie that neither you or your daughter were too thrilled about). Both of you were infatuated with the perfect little cherub you made together and just wanted to be near her always. Sloane could happily snuggle against her dad with you being big spoon and still able to keep your arm over her and Eddie's torso. It was ideal. 

Then Iris came along aka Eddie's clone and shadow. Naturally, she inherited her dad's clinginess as well as everything else. Unlike Sloane, who just slept happily in the middle enjoying both parents. Iris insisted on clinging to Eddie like a tiny curly headed spider monkey. Now it was a slice of you, Sloaney Bologna and then Iris insisted on being so close to Eddie, she was more like a condiment smeared on top of him rather than an extra filling. For the first time in your relationship, your sleeping position of having your arm draped around Eddie's stomach was no longer possible. Instead he just had a little Iris laying right on top, a mini Munson stack. But, you couldn't be angry, not when they looked so cute. Little duplicates of each other who'd become inseparable. 

It worked out that you had two years between each daughter. So by time you were pregnant with Maeve, the bed was full with four year old Sloane and two year old Iris, plus you and Eddie. Realising there's quite a difference between that and just a baby and a two year old in the bed. Iris was now less of a little mini Munson stack on top of Eddie but rather a lump. All of that mixed with your baby bump, meant it was time to have the talk with Eddie. 

'Baby, we can't all fit in the same bed anymore,' you broke it to him. 

He gasped like you had suggested something outrageously cruel, as if you now wanted your kids to sleep in cages. 

'But we're a Munson sandwich?!' He huffed. 

'Well, you've overfilled the sandwich,' you raised a finger at him, stopping him from sniggering at the innuendo. 'I am the top piece of bread that can no longer balance on top! Between you, your clinger, Sloaney and now the bump, your beloved wife and carrier of your children is practically falling out of bed.'

Over the years, you had learnt using carrying his children was a sure fire way to win with Eddie. He groaned like a teenager, knowing you'd used the secret weapon. 

'Fiiiine. We'll get a bigger mattress, sweetheart!'

Your jaw dropped. 

'Eddie! That is not what I was suggesting!'

He held his hand up in protest. 

'Well, sweets, you should've known better than to have ever let me have my way and have the girls in the bed. We're a bed sharing family now. Deal with it. We shall be getting a bigger mattress!'

By the end of the week you were the proud owner of a mattress that seemed to be the size of every other one you've owned, stitched together. Yet, Eddie would soon learn it would not be enough. Nothing was a match for the terror of Maeve Munson. 

'I don't know how, but I know you've taught her to do this,' he accused, outraged that a baby kicked him so hard he had a black eye. 

After you dealt with Iris clinging to your husband for the last two years, he was now getting a taste of his own medicine. Although, Maeve was far more ruthless than her sister, even as a newborn. 

'You were in her way,' you smirked, 'she thought you were trying to steal her Mommy.' 

'You were mine first,' Eddie grumbled from the other side of the bed, sore eye and all. 

Now Sloane was six, she wasn't a permanent feature in the bed but her absence did not create more space. Maeve simply turned it into a buffering zone. If her dad were to encroach on the space, little limbs would kick ferociously to keep him at bay. 

One night you had even been awoken by a wail from Eddie. 

'AHhh you better be sure that you didn't want anymore kids, Y/N because Cerberus Munson has just crushed all hope of it!!'

To go with his now sore balls, he got a hard shove from yourself. 

'Cerberus Munson? Absolutely not. That nickname is vetoed. Far worse than Sloaney Bologna. If Maeve is Cerberus, that means I'm hell!!'

He knew he'd stitched himself up with that one so sulked in silence the rest of the night; bringing you your favourite breakfast in the morning. 

As you sat on your bed, eating your apology breakfast, alongside a black eyed and tender balled, Eddie, you strategised. Despite how funny it was, there was no denying your precious, protective Maeve was a health hazard. It would be a real shame to injure him further considering you'd married a man with such a pretty face and balls. So, a new arrangement was made. No longer were you and Eddie the slices of bread in the Munson Sandwich. It now went a slice of Iris, a filling of dad, a filling of mom and then a slice of Maeve. It meant for the first time in four years, you and Eddie could actually fall asleep on each other like you had your whole relationship. Then, on the occasion Sloane joined, she could slip perfectly in between you just as she had when she first arrived. 

Even as your children grew older, the Munson Sandwich was still beloved. On sad days or chilly nights, the Sandwich would reassemble. It didn't matter if they were adults with their own children, Eddie and you were going to cuddle your girls like they were still your little babies. 

---

my taglist angels: @whoahoney@lukewearingbeanies @esme-viridian @elysian-chaos @munsonology@mseddiemunson @kreepja @midnightsgetawaycar @therosietoesy @littlepotatobeansworld

@josephquinncore

[hazzashouse]

There’s always sunshine after rain

a/n: not proofread! I saw this photo of Harry (below) on Pinterest and this idea just popped to my mind 😩😍 hope you’ll like it as much as I do!

summary: you are in a secret relationship with harry. He is currently shooting a movie and you work on the set as a hairstylist. Everything is great until… is not.

warnings: slight angst?

It’s been eight months since you started seeing each other. No one knows about you, and you both decided that it’s better if it stays that way. At least until Harry is done with shooting the movie.

But you don’t complain.

There is just something about being in a secret relationship that brings you excitement, a rush of adrenaline. Longing looks, stealing kisses behind the corner when no one’s around and looking…

Exciting, isn’t it?

You two met on the movie set where you work as a hairstylist. You agreed that keeping your relationship away from everyone is pretty convenient and better in general. You aren’t a public figure, no one knows about you, so it would be also easier to remain unknown to the fans, even if someone did see you two together.

But it’s not always easy. There were times when Harry wished to be able to hold your hand, caress your cheek and place his hand on your knee when sitting next to each other. The desire to do so was always so intense, painful almost. Just like today.

Today is one of the hardest days for you. Everything goes wrong. It’s not even noon and you’ve already managed to burn yourself with a hair straightener , spill your morning coffee on a few scripts, mess up a few hairstyles, and most importantly, break a ridiculously expensive studio lamp after tripping over the cables…

The worst part of it all is that the director lashed out at you in front of everyone, including Harry. You could feel the tears forming in your eyes, the lump getting bigger in your throat, as the harsh words kept coming. You don’t even want to think what’s going to happen next.

Harry was clenching his fists so tight that any second longer and his nails would’ve broken his skin. He wanted to step in, protect you and then comfort you, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t and it was killing him. The sight of your glassy eyes made his jaw clench almost immediately.

Finally, the director dismisses you and you start walking away, wanting to get as far away from everyone as possible. As you turn to the left, going further into one of the many corridors, someone grabs your hand, making you stop.

“Y/n” you hear the voice of the only person that you want to hear now. You turn your face around to look at him but as soon as you do so, you break into tears.

Harry pulls you into his arms without any hesitation. Your bodies pressed against each other. His arms wrapped around your waist tightly as if he was never going to let you go. “Shhh, everything is okay,” he whispers into your ear, trying to get to you through your sobs.

You feel your tears wetting his costume but he doesn’t seem to care. All he wants is for you to feel safe, to know that he’s right here for you. That’s all that matters.

“Y/n,” he speaks again, leaving a kiss on the top of your head.

“I- it’s all my fault,” she stutter.

“Y/n,” Harry tighten the hug. “It’s not your fault and you know it. You are exhausted. You’ve been working your ass off since 4 am, you had no one to help you. Not to mention that you hadn’t been feeling well since yesterday. It’s not your fault” his hand started stroking your back in a soothing manner. “He should be thankful that you’re still working here. You deserve better, Y/n. You didn’t do anything wrong. I swear to God, I’m gonna go and tell him off. That’s not how you treat a woman and it’s definitely not the way to treat you. That son of a bi-” Harry doesn’t get to finish because you pulled slightly away, and standing on your tiptoes you closed the distance between your lips.

“Thank you,” you sat quietly after the kiss. You lick your lips and feel the salty taste of your own tears.

Harry moved his hand to caress your cheek, his thumb wiping away the remained tears. “I don’t like to see you cry but I’m always here for you and I’ll always be.” You lean into his palm, putting your hand on top of his.

Harry takes a few good seconds to just look at you when it comes to him. First of all, he doesn’t want this situation to occur ever again. But secondly, he doesn’t want to wait till you’re alone to finally pull you into his arms or taste your lips. “Y/n,” he pauses but just to steal a tender kiss from you before continuing. “I don’t want to hide anymore. I know you are afraid of what people might say but who they are to tell us how to live our lives? I love you, Y/n, and I want the whole world to see how happy I am because of you. I want to be able to show you my love for you all the time, not only after work and when we’re away from everyone’s eyes.” Harry finishes his little speech with another kiss on your lips.

“So… What do you say?” He strokes your cheek with his thumb.

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