#they could have put it up this month and taken it down after

[hellfirenacht]

Anomaly Part 4

Summary: You can talk to anyone in school with no problem. At least, anyone who’s not named Eddie Munson.

Tags: Anxious-ish!Reader but not shy, one sided pining, no use of y/n, fem!reader, one sided enemies to lovers, fem!reader

Word Count: 2.2k words

Master List

“The only reason she didn’t smack you was because she broke her arm.” Gareth said before downing the rest of his soda and crunching it on the table. 

“I didn’t do anything to warrant a smacking.” Eddie said, crossing his arms. This had gone on for the past few minutes, where the guys had been hounding him about being seen with you and an ex-cheerleader. “I was a gentleman and carried her books to the cafeteria.” 

“She looked terrified to be seen with you.” Gareth was reaching for one of Jeff’s tater tots and yelped as his hand was smacked away. 

“So what else is new? Everyone’s afraid of Eddie except us.” Grant shrugged which caused the rest of the table to laugh before Eddie shot them a look that made them all shut up. 

It was a blessing and a curse being the Freak of Hawkins High. Eddie knew that most people were afraid of him here, and that’s what he liked. Having people scared of him, or at least apprehensive of him, made it easier to keep an eye on his club. People moved out of the way when he moved through the hallways now, unlike his first four years of high school when he was pushed around. 

Maybe it was because after that first senior year, Eddie had hit another growth spurt and looked more adult than most of the students. Wayne had once made a dry joke that if he cut his hair and wore a nice shirt for once he’d be mistaken for a teacher. Eddie had taken that personally and had spent his last few dollars on a metal WASP pin that weekend. 

Eddie knew he looked dangerous to the average student, and a criminal to the average teacher. When Eddie looked in the mirror, he just saw himself. 

“Did she say why she saved your ass from being expelled?” Dustin piped in, stealing one of Gareth’s tater tots while he was still trying to take Jeff’s. 

“No, but she said she fell to distract everyone over the fact that Miles shit himself during the pep rally.” Eddie deadpanned. 

“That’s the closest you’ll ever get to talking to a cheerleader, congratulations, Eddie.” Jeff said, with a mouth full of tater tots, finding it easier to shove them all in his mouth at once rather than spend the rest of lunch fending off Gareth. 

“Ex-cheerleader.” Eddie said without thinking. He wondered if Stacy blamed him for what happened. She didn’t seem pissed at him though, then again you seemed to dislike him enough for the both of you.  

“Exactly.” 

Quickly losing interest in this whole topic, Eddie pulled out his cassette player, removed the batteries, gave them a good shake and put them back in before pushing play. The rest of the club went back to talking about other things. As for Eddie, he had been listening to the same damn song for a week to get the riff right. With the rest of the club growing sick of the song, it gave Eddie an excuse to bow out of the conversation for a moment. 

He glanced back over at the table you were at for just long enough to see you and Stacy having a heated debate about something. What was it that got you so passionate right now? 

You looked frustrated, but you usually did when he was around. 

The rest of the day passed by at a snail's pace, with the days getting longer outside now and with how close he was to the end of the school year it was hard to keep momentum up. Eddie had come into this school year swinging, determined to pass those last few classes and get the hell out of here. But like anything that wasn’t D&D or music, the longer things went the harder it became. 

Senioritis was already bad, but for a 3rd year in a row? This was getting ridiculous. 

He thought back to this past summer where he sucked it up and signed up for summer school. Two classes over two months to show that he could count to twenty without taking his shoes off and say that Hitler was the one who killed Hitler and that gave him two shiny credits under his belt so that this year he only had to worry about Science and the PE class he had been skipping since middle school.

As much as it sucked, it was quick and easy and Eddie really just wished that regular school was as easy as summer school was. At least in summer school he was with the rest of the burnouts and future flunkies. No one there gave two shits about popularity. 

The final bell rang and he made his way to the parking lot towards his van. If there was one thing that his dad did right by him, it was leaving Eddie his van. His band and this piece of junk was his ticket out of Hawkins as soon as he had that diploma. 

Eddie passed the buses, taking the long way around as it was a surprisingly warm day for early Spring. 

His mind was distracted, wandering to the next time Corroded Coffin would practice- he needed to tune his guitar first, and check to make sure the amp was going to live to see another show, call Ronnie and-

THUMP

“Watch it!” Eddie turned and snapped as someone shoulder checked him as they rushed to the bus behind them. It was reflex, the past two years he’d dealt with this bullshit less and less and he wasn’t about to let it go now.

Eddie stopped as he made eye contact with you. You were gripping your arm and staring him down, caught between a snarl and a deer in the headlights. He met your gaze unflinching, until you blinked first and looked away. 

“Sorry.” you said before running onto the nearest bus. 

Shit. You probably hadn’t meant to actually shoulder check him. You had apologized, albeit reluctantly. If there was one thing he could give you credit for, you never went out of your way to be outright cruel to him. You just... didn’t like him. He could live with that for the next few months. 

Still, the sight of you running onto the bus stirred up the memory of the first time he remembered seeing you this past summer. You were always the first person on the bus in summer school. Guess that hadn’t changed. 

---

As long as you kept your headphones on and had a window seat, the bus wasn’t the worst thing in the world. You missed the freedom of being able to drive to and from school, stopping at gas stations for snacks or going to downtown Hawkins just to loiter around the shops. 

The first day on the bus was as peaceful as one could hope. Your personal mixtape was buzzing in your ear, you stared out the window as your peers were dropped off groups at a time at different stops. Some had parents waiting for them, some didn’t. You knew yours wouldn’t be. As soon as you hit freshman year, they swapped to the night shift deeming you old enough to take care of your own dinner, on your second round of summer school you saw them even less. 

Eddie was also held back, that wasn’t exactly a secret in the school and he could hardly pass as a pimple ridden teen anyway. That was also one of the reasons you seemed to gravitate to him. But while everyone knew about Eddie’s schooling history, having come to Hawkins late in your high school career, it allowed you a bit of extra discretion. Stacy was the only one who knew this was your second round of senior year. 

Your arm throbbed under your cast on the way home today, your face burning from embarrassment that you had almost had a nice conversation with Eddie earlier, but now he thought you shoulder checked him. You thunked your forehead against the window with a sigh. 

Eddie didn’t talk to you until the following Wednesday when the two of you were cornered by your teacher after the bell rang. You could see the look in Ms. Benson’s eyes what she wanted to talk about, but why was Eddie involved?

Ms. Benson handed Eddie his last paper, a C- scribbled at the top. Passing, but barely. Salt in the wound to you, and you looked down at your cast, picking at it. 

“You’re phoning it in, Mr. Munson.” she said. “I know that you don’t need this class to finally graduate but I don’t like mediocre work.”

You didn’t like that he was getting lectured when you were right there. Where was the decorum? The dignity? You wanted to crawl into the linoleum. 

Ms. Benson turned to you before Eddie could say anything. “You didn’t turn your paper in.” she said blatantly. She might as well have turned to Eddie and told him directly that you were a lazy dumbass. 

“I broke my wrist.” you said, more to the signature of Allie from gym class than to your teacher. If you had done literally anything else in class this year, then maybe that excuse could have worked, but you hadn’t and it didn’t. 

Ms. Benson took a look at you both and let out a long sigh. “I’m giving you both a chance to fix this.” she said. “I’m willing to offer you both extra credit to give you either a bonus on your final papers or replace a missing one.”

It was a good deal, a very very generous offer. Too generous-

“And what’s the catch, Ms, B?” Eddie asked skeptically. 

“I need volunteers for Spring Day.” she said. “You help with that, and I’ll give you the extra credit.” 

Spring Day was basically a free day where kids could either skip school or come for a slack off day. There were games, events happening at the gym, fields, and library, catered lunches, and plenty of ways to sneak off. 

“Sorry, no can do.” Eddie said. “I was banned from Spring Day. I have a hot date with in school suspension and you know how Higgins hates it when I cancel on him like that.” 

“I already cleared it with him.” Ms. Benson said, shocking Eddie. “As long as you stay away from the balloon pop booth.”

You saw Eddie smirk out of the corner of your eye. “I was framed, I swear.” 

“Of course you were.” She said dismissively. “So,I expect both of you to show up after school on Mondays and Wednesdays to meet me to help set this up. We only have a few weeks, and the budget is tight.”

Well, there was clearly no choice now. Just like that, you were now being volun-told to help with the one day a year you didn’t feel guilty about doing jack shit. 

“...Go away now.” Ms. Benson said, and you and Eddie didn’t need to be told twice. You turned tail and damn near ran out of the room. 

You were at your locked, struggling with the damn lock when you heard a voice next to you. “Do you think humiliation was also part of the extra credit, or are we just lucky?” 

Eddie had followed you to your locker, he was the last person you wanted to see after that. “I guess.” you mumbled, awkwardly shoving books in as you grabbed your lunch. 

You could handle feeling judged by teachers and your fellow students. That was the norm since you were a kid. God, Eddie was on his sixth year! Why did you care what he thought about you? Wouldn’t he understand better than anyone at this school what you were dealing with? 

You closed the locker harder than you meant to and Eddie winced. Shit. You had to say something to ease the tension. 

“...What did you do to the water balloons?” You asked, looking at him. Eddie smiled wide at you. 

“Allegedly I added some fun food coloring to the water.” he shrugged. “I didn’t think this school hated red and black so much.” 

You cracked a smile despite yourself. “It’s not exactly school colors.” 

“It’s not.” Eddie agreed, messing with one of his rings. His eyes darted past you, and you looked over to see Stacy walking over. 

“Eddie.” she nodded with a pleasant smile. Maybe too pleasant? No, that’s weird to think about your best friend. 

“Stacy.” Eddie nodded back. 

You had a weird feeling that there was a conversation going on, that you were in the middle of. You tried to shake off the thought, Stacy knew everyone. Stacy had a way of making everyone feel important, plus she was super pretty. You couldn’t blame Eddie for looking at her, and you tried to squash that glob of jealousy. Stacy was your best friend, she wouldn’t make a move on the guy you’ve been pining over. 

Stacy turned to you. “We’re sitting outside today with Nancy. She wants to interview me for the school paper.” 

“Wheeler?” you asked. “Uh, sure.” Stacy had so many damn accolades you didn’t bother asking which one she was being interviewed for. You’d read about it later. “Uh, see you on Wednesday, I guess, Eddie.”

“Yeah, see ya.” Eddie agreed as Stacy lead you away. 

“Wednesday?” she whispered with a glint in her eyes. “The second we turn the corner you’re talking.”

----

2 posts in one day?! Yeah lol. This fic is pure stream of consciousness so even I barely know what's happening. I have a vague idea of story beats bot otherwise this fic is always hot off the press lol.

Tag List:  @eddiemunsonfuxks @kirsteng42 @strangereads @pedroschka @generoustrashpeach

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@amieinghigh

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Game On. | Touya x Reader Imagine 🌶

LOLOL But imagine Touya fucking up into you bare for the first time...

Oh, you can't!? Well let me do it for you...

He finally has you naked in his bed like he's been dreaming about ever since you joined up with the League of Villains.

You'd knocked on his door and kissed him when he'd answered it - putting a fiery seal on 6 months of mutual pining and flirtation. You'd been so desperate for each other that he'd pulled you into his arms and kicked the door closed behind you. His lips were everywhere - your mouth, your cheeks, your pulse point. He'd unbuttoned your shirt and shed you of your clothes in record time. There was no time to be embarrassed about your nakedness - not when there's so much of Touya you still need to explore.

You pull at his hair, bite at his lips, run your hands down his toned, stapled body...there wasn't time to grab a condom, not when you need each other this badly. You were already so wet and desperate for him, he pressed his thick cock into you so easily. Touya slid into you smoothly like a knife into room temperature butter.

And so now here you are, riding him. Bouncing up and down on his cock like there's no tomorrow, like you won't need to have a serious conversation about what you mean to each other after this is all done.

Nope - no thinking. No planning ahead. Just you riding his emo fucking dick and cooing at him as he throws his head back and lets out the sluttiest little sounds you've ever heard.

His piercings and staples glint in the low light and his large hands move to grip at your hips, his touch almost bruising in intensity. His cock twitches and bullies its way up into your tight pussy as he searches for your G-spot. You gasp when he finds it, and he grins wickedly up at you when he feels you reflexively squeeze around him. He focuses in on repeating the motion again and again. Your tits bounce with the rhythm of his thrusts as he speeds up, grinding into you.

"You wanna cum, babe? You want me to fill up this tight fuckin' pussy?" He speeds up and brings a calloused thumb between the two of your bodies in order to rub at your clit. Heat pools in your lower belly and your cheeks heat up as you feel yourself at the verge of release. Touya grins up at you, wicked white teeth glimmering as he fucks you, enjoying himself.

"Don't worry about cumming too early, sweetheart. I bet I can get at least 3 orgasms out of you tonight." He flashes you a smile of bright white teeth as his cock twitches deep inside of you.

And at his inspired dirty talk, you fall over the edge and into oblivion, creaming on the cock of one of the most wanted villains in Japan. Your breath hitches in the back of your throat as you feel your pussy clench tightly around his dick, pulsing and fluttering in time with the pleasure of your orgasm.

Touya's icy blue eyes bore into your own. As he watches you cum, something in him falters and his eyes grow a fraction wider. It takes you a moment before you register what's going on - your orgasm is milking pleasure out of Touya's cock and the goddamn idiot is also cumming. His dick twitches once, twice, three times as he cums deep inside of you, fucking his ejaculate deeper and deeper into your tiny cunt.

Reading his body language you realize - his orgasm had taken you both by surprise. The goddamn idiot had thought he could holdout longer. But now here he is, filling you up to the brim with his thick baby batter.

"Fuuuuck!" He groans out, eyes fluttering shut as his hips work overtime to draw out his release. "Fuckin' hell." You feel his thick, hot ropes of cum filling you up and making the tail end of your own orgasm even more intense.

You groan as you both finish, crying out his name in such a pretty way that he doesn’t know what to do. His hands grab anything they can find – your hips, your breasts, your neck. He feels so good and he craves closeness – he’d climb into your goddamn skin if he could.

When you both come down from that heaven-sent high, you fall onto his chest and nuzzle into his neck. You're absolutely spent.

“Wow.” Is all you can say as you feel him gently pull out of you, cool air hitting your pussy as cum and arousal gush onto the sheets. He shifts you into a more comfortable position and you shiver as the sweat on your body cools in the AC.

“I’ll last longer next time.” He says, softness creeping into his voice. He sounds...embarrassed? You smile, savoring the rare spark of vulnerability. All sense of angry bravado has been abandoned now that he’s fucked out and breathless.

“You’d better.” You try to challenge him, but you’re too tired and too boneless to hold up your end of banter. “Hold me?”

He wraps his arms around you, strong biceps flexing against your bare skin. You feel the hard metal of staples scratch lightly across your skin as you curve into him. You shift your gaze up to his beautiful face, his mouth quirked into an unsteady smile.

His ice blue eyes search your face as he croaks out: “So…are we actually doing this?”

“Doing what?” You ask shakily, afraid of what his answer might be.

“You know damn well ‘what.’” He scowls, but his expression is softer than usual as he squeezes you to him. You can feel his heartbeat pulsing where your chests lay flush against each other. “I want you too badly. I want you to be mine.”

“Like…in a hookup-fuck-buddy kinda way? Or in an intense, deep devotion relationshipy way?” You ask, suppressing a giggle as Touya scowls at you with those endless icy eyes of his.

“Don’t make me say it.” He says gruffly, rolling his eyes as he looks past your face to stare hard into the cracking ceiling. “The latter. I need you all to myself. Idiot.”

“Touya, you’re so goddamn mushy I can’t stand it.” You say sarcastically, bringing up a hand to trace his sharp jawline. He fuckin leans into the touch. He’s so whipped for you, you practically glow with the realization. “So does that make me your girlfriend?” You tease.

He huffs, throwing you off of him and onto your back. You hit the plush mattress and sink in a bit, surprised at his sudden roughness. Seconds later he’s on top of you, kissing down your neck and sinking his teeth into your shoulder and sucking at the skin there. A bright hickey blooms quickly under his mouth and he smiles at it, content.

“If calling you my girlfriend gives me unrestricted access to this gorgeous fuckin’ body…then, yeah. I’ll let you be my girlfriend, sweetheart.” He whispers harshly, his fingers coming down to rub against your abused clit. You gasp, still over stimulated from your orgasm.

“You’re such a shithead jerk, Touya.” You moan in discomfort as he slips a finger inside of you with a squelch, pushing his cum back inside of you.

“Yeah, but doll I’m you’re ‘shithead jerk’ now. No take backs.”

You can feel him already getting hard again against your thigh, and you spread your legs to give him better access to your pussy.

Oh you are gonna have fun with boyfriend Touya. You gasp as he curls his fingers to hit your g-spot deep inside your still-shaky cunt.

You grin wickedly up at his ceiling.

Game on.

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

Woohoo a rare little one shot ficlet! Hope you enjoyed!

XOXO, RedRiotUnbreakableHeart ❤️

🔥Link to My Master List 🔥

[lostintransist]

I can't keep doing this to myself...

My brain spit out an idea at me that I don't want to lose so you get to suffer with me under the weight of this idea until I have the time space energy ADHD hyperfocus to start on it.

This is not edited. Goal is to get the thought out of my head, not to make it perfect.

So imagine for me if you will that in some version of the stories for whatever reason I can bullshit into making sense Simon is selected to undergo a new and experimental form of trauma therapy. Used she/her here but when I write it pronouns will be you/yours

He hates it but orders are orders and after losing Johnny (his best mate, his lover, the other half of his soul) he would do just about anything to crawl from under the weight of the grief and guilt. Accepting the assignment means being put under sedation regularly for anywhere from six months to a year. During the sedation your active mind will remian awake and will begin to interact with a simulation that will help deal with the traumas exisiting in his body and mind.

Simon, not 100% on board, accepts the assignment but when he wakes up in some of his worst memorires ignores the woman following him from scene to scene, offering help. Every time he cowers as a child she offers a hand. Each time he bites back the fear flooding his system on a battlefield she offers to take the bullet instead.

For months he ignores her, trying to defeat his demons on his own. This was his mind and his body dammit, he could do this.

She stops offering help but doesn't leave. Trailing behind him in his memories Simon always finds flowers strewn in his footsteps. He never bothered to learn her name. When her laughter starts to haunt his dreams he watches her instead of his memories.

Whoever had programed this simulation had taken great care in creating a realistic interaction point. She makes ugly faces before she sneezes in the barns he has hid in, always complains about hayfever. Her ring finger on her right had been broken before, he can tell from the slight bend between the second and third knuckle. Every time he entered the simulation she wore something different, sometimes tugging on pants as if they wouldn't stay up.

"What should I call you?"

"Mmm?" She looks up from a book she had pulled down from a shelf in a dilapidated kitchen. "Oh, I'm not real so you can call me whatever you want."

He stared at her, frustrations mounting.

"Back to the silent treatment? Okay, this recipe looks actually really yummy," she turns to look back to the book.

Simon stalks up and snatches it from her hands. There is actually handwritten recipes. For some reason this makes Simon's rage double. How? How could this be real? He never opened a book in this kitchen. All that happened here was patching his wounds while waiting for exfil.

Their pattern continues like that until his brain finally spits out Johnny's death. He had been so, so careful to never let that memory come up. When it does Simon is so blindsided that when she offers to help he finally accepts.

Not knowing what to expect from this interaction did not prevent Simon from being surprised at how she handled it. She started to hum as she froze the memory, touching and moving pieces and people until everything had rewound a few moments.

"You have to sit it in, this pain. Talk to him. Tell him everything you didn't get a chance to. The longer you can sit in the agony the sooner it will find peace." She takes him by the hand and pulls him to his love.

Simon cries, like the young boy who needed safety and only found hate or indifference. Through blubbering sobs he tells Johnny every word he regretted hording. When Johnny hugs him back, mouth moving and voice saying things Simon had only dreamed of he found a semblenece of peace.

When his heartrate returns to normal and the only proof this interaction happened is the hollow space in his chest where Johnny will continue to exist his compaion steps back from Johnny, appearing as if from the dust.

"I think that is enough today. You did good." Turning on her heel she walks away, disappearing into the folds between memories.

Simon had never seen her leave before, he always ended the sessions before she had a chance.

He lets her help then, this nameless woman. They conquer every memory and the vaguest notions of memories that bother him. This intensive work paired with his weekly therapy leaves his with the skills to deal with the nightmares, the PTSD, and the trauma that still manifests from time to time.

Can one fall in love with a figment of imagintion? Simon thinks he might have. The final session he confesses, brushing his lips against hers as she sobs.

"But I'm not real. Simon, you can't love me I'm not real."

"Johnny's not real either anymore. I still love him. I'll keep you in my bones next to him, both of you keeping me safe."

She runs then, between memories and fears until she disappears and ends the sesion.

Simon, upon requesting more sessions, is informed that he has completed the program and all his care is being turned over to the non-intensive team that his therapist is a part of. Oh she shouldn't have argued with him or cut off their sessions. Now he knows she is real, the woman the knocked around his brain and fought back the demons for him.

Now all he had to do? Find her.

For anything I am currently working on check out my masterlist. This is getting dropped into my drabbles for later.

[astronicht]

I’m anon who requested 2 and anything f1 works but maxiel if I had to choose!!!

2. running fingers through hair

(thank you everyone who prompted, these have been really helpful 2 me the past few days!!) Cited sources: i pulled some specific characterization beats from @garage-gremlin 's incredible fic over here (specifically, what max reports yuki said to him). There's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it reference to casual yuki/max, and also i guess some max/daniel feminization going on in here.

They are on the yacht, because Max thought it would be good to remind Daniel that he still has many good things. Like Max’s yacht.

It is unfortunately a little chilly, but even off Monaco that is what January will get you. If Daniel had not spent so long running around America, they could have gone earlier. But it was fine: Max was racing, and Daniel likes America and his friends there. He did not want to bring them on Max’s yacht, even though Max asked.

“We should go to Palermo,” Daniel says from the deck chair next to Max. The hum of the engines had almost sent Max to sleep, even with the cool air across his face. His jacket is practically thermal. He put Daniel in a matching one, and belowdecks the heat is turned all the way up. The hardwood floors are heated from beneath, like they are at Geri’s house. It’s all very nice.

“Palermo?” says Max. “Will you speak Italian then, Daniel?”

“I want fried food,” Daniel says, sidestepping the Italian. Max is convinced Daniel understands more Italian and French than he lets on, but that’s not hard because he mostly pretends he doesn’t understand any. He gives people very blank looks sometimes, in shops and things, when they approach him. It is a little funny.

“We can go to Palermo,” Max says easily. “If you want to be gone for two or three days.”

Getting a spot to dock at Palermo is pretty much impossible, but that can be taken care of.

“Maybe,” says Daniel. About as expected, Max thinks.

When Max had tracked down the third new number Daniel had gotten in three months and texted to politely ask if Daniel wanted to come out on the yacht (asking doesn’t actually work with Daniel — he’d texted “You should come on the yacht with me. 24th.”) Daniel had replied with “lol I’ll jump into the sea 🏊‍♂️🏊‍♂️🏊‍♂️” and then showed up at 6AM the morning of the 24th.

Daniel being a little moody about Palermo is nothing, really. A little pleasant, in fact.

“Did you know,” Max says to the deck chair next to him, “That Yuki says when I cover my face I look like a girl?”

Daniel, presumably hitting pause on thinking of jumping into the sea, rolls over in his deck chair to face Max.

“What?” he says.

“When I am surprised, you know,” Max says, and models it: two hands over the lower half of his face.

Daniel mostly looks confused. And a little like he darkly suspects what happened after Yuki said this— but whatever, Max is not the one who was in America all this time, doing who knows what.

There is a pause.

“You used to let me be the girl,” Max says, to the gusting wind over the Mediterranean. The sea around them is like blue velvet, choppy but soft. 

Daniel’s face is finally blank and focused. He mouths ‘let me’ to himself.

Max rolls onto his side to face Daniel as well. This is not enough. He stands up, looking down at Daniel on the deck chair.

No need to tower. He sits on Daniel’s deck chair, his jacket whispering. He reaches out and tucks a few of Daniel’s curls a little more securely under his hat, because they are dancing into his eyes in the wind. He tucks Daniel’s hair behind his ear. Daniel’s hand comes up loosely around Max’s wrist. His mouth is parted.

“If you want to be the girl, you must of course just ask,” Max says.

Daniel’s throat works. His Adam’s apple bobs. 

Max says, “The girl can still fuck me,” and laughs, because it sounds funny to say.

“Oh,” breathes Daniel, like this is what unlocked something.

Max takes Daniel’s hand from around Max’s wrist and kisses the knuckles.

“Ah, Daniel,” he says. “You are cold again.”

[suzukiblu]

AND! Tim/Not Kon! Carefully navigating a relationship with someone you created to replace your dead best friend, but fell in love with as themself!

“I think you made me kind of a slut, man,” Hunter muses, which would probably not have made Tim choke quite so hard if Hunter hadn’t been speculatively dragging his eyes up his body while he said it.

The part where the other’s draped over the nearest weight bench in this Titans Tower training room and wearing literally nothing but running shorts and sneakers isn’t helping either.

Also Hunter definitely needs a haircut because his hair grew down past his shoulders in development and he didn’t want to cut it after, but Tim is just not emotionally capable of dealing with the barely-restrained curly ponytails and half-ponytails and man-buns he’s been wearing. Just–not even slightly, no. Not even a little bit. 

“You are literally a virgin,” Tim says inanely, trying very hard not to drop either his bo or his literal entire brain on the mats. “I–what? What?” 

Hunter shrugs; rolls onto his back on top of the bench. It leaves him bent backwards over it, back arched and head upside-down as he skims a hand up his bare stomach. Hunter is, somehow, even more tactile and hedonistic than Kon ever was, which Tim is very suddenly being reminded of. 

He debates the merits of panicking. Or maybe, like, running for his life. 

“I said, I think you made me kind of a slut, man,” Hunter repeats, like that’s the part that Tim was trying not to drop his brain over. “Like, either libido-wise or uploads-wise, I dunno.” 

“Wh–I didn’t put anything like–I didn’t–” Tim half-sputters, and the crushing depression that’s taken over most of his life since everyone died on him and Bruce disappeared and Dick gave Robin to Damian is possibly actually just too baffled to be crushing him right now. Hunter gives him a lazy, half-lidded look, tipping his head back a little farther on his neck. His throat is . . . his throat is very, very exposed. And thick. And long and strong and stubbled and– 

Nrgnk, Tim thinks, very faintly.

He did not ever look at Kon’s throat and think things like that. 

He is definitely, definitely thinking those things about Hunter’s, though. 

“Oh my god, you fuckin’ sad-ass wet canary, I don’t mean I think you did it on purpose,” Hunter snorts in exasperation, rolling his eyes like Tim’s an idiot or something. Tim is not an idiot. Tim is actually, like, reasonably intelligent and–he made Hunter. That required being pretty damn smart, actually! Really damn smart, actually! 

. . . and also unfathomably, unfathomably stupid, admittedly. 

“Then what do you mean?” he asks warily, because Hunter is about a month and a half “old”, except also more like nineteen, and has already decided that he does not give a single telekinetically-flying fuck about things like social graces or social filters and it’s frankly a miracle that nobody’s killed him for that yet. Or, uh. Tim. Or killed Tim for that. 

Cassie definitely thought about it, he knows. 

Seriously, though, just–as bad as Kon ever was about anything, Hunter has definitely actively decided to be worse. Which is admittedly a very “Kon” kind of decision to make, except also just . . . absolutely nothing like Kon, at the same time. Hunter literally does not even care that Superman exists, for one thing, and has about as much interest in wearing the “S” as Lex Luthor does, but also does not care Luthor exists either. Like–impressively does not care about either of their existences, in fact. 

Tim might have, uh, overcompensated a little while trying to make sure the “Kon” he was making wouldn’t have as many issues about his gene donors as the real one had, but also Hunter might just be that goddamn contrary. It’s unclear, at this point. 

“Oh, like I keep thinking about fucking climbing somebody,” Hunter says. “Like, literally? I’m pretty sure I could do it literally. You know, could float a bit if I had to, whatever.” 

“I mean, you’re very, uh–tactile,” Tim attempts awkwardly, really not knowing how to approach this conversation. “And still only have about five minutes of experience with actual human contact, but also teenage hormones? So wanting to, uh–be tactile with a lot of people isn’t necessarily, you know . . . uh.” 

“I meant I wanna climb somebody specific, Wet Canary,” Hunter corrects dryly, rolling his eyes again. “Not like, literally everyone I know. Well–okay, also Starfire and Nightwing. But like, Starfire and Nightwing, so can you blame me?” 

“I plead the fifth,” Tim says, since that is his sort-of-brother and his sort-of-brother’s situationship that Hunter is talking about right now and he just . . . he just needs the plausible deniability there at least, okay? And also does not have the time to have a sexuality crisis right now either. Like, that’s just not going to fit in his schedule, despite all Hunter’s–Hunter-ness being a thing. 

“Maybe also Red Hood,” Hunter muses speculatively, drumming his fingers on his stomach. Tim . . . does not know how he feels about that. At all. Either the fact that Hunter is talking like he’s actually attracted to guys, or the fact that one of the guys he apparently finds attractive is Jason.

“You know he literally beat me half to death once, right?” he reminds him. Hunter smirks at him. 

“Yeah, and I bet he looked hot as fuck doing it,” he says. 

“. . . . . . I plead the fifth,” Tim mutters. Hunter drops his head back even further on his neck and cackles. Tim does not think anything about his throat. Like–definitely he does not. 

“Also I would definitely sit in your Bat-daddy’s lap, if you guys ever figure out if he’s dead or not,” Hunter decides, nodding to himself as he says it. 

Tim falls off the mats. Or like–the floor, maybe? Like–that’s just what happens, yeah. Hunter laughs at him again. 

“I hate you,” Tim mutters extremely feelingly, attempting to just . . . just attempting, maybe. Literally he does not even know what he’s “attempting”, except maybe to not to have a heart attack at eighteen and a half. 

“Aw, too bad, ‘cuz you literally made me so therefore you did this to yourself,” Hunter replies with a broad grin. Tim definitely hates him. “Maybe you should work on all that self-punishing shit, man, you coulda made a way nicer guy than me.” 

“I was trying to make Kon, that really would not have happened,” Tim retorts dryly, and then wonders when exactly his dark humor got this dark. Well–logically, it would’ve been somewhere around all the dead people and all, he guesses, but still. 

“Really, because literally no one has described that dude to me as anything but, like, a socially-awkward marshmallow who was just constantly fronting whatever overbearing ‘please like me’ behavior he thought would work,” Hunter says, giving him a wry look. “Literally. Literally no one. I think the dog thinks he was a marshmallow, in fact.” 

“Right, and you’re so hardcore and edgy over there,” Tim says, eyeing him briefly. 

“I mean I’m capable of, like, things like saying ‘no’ to people who aren’t active supervillains actively trying to murder somebody not me,” Hunter replies reasonably. “So I’d like to think I’m at least, like, nougat or something. Maybe a caramel.” 

“You are not even Nutella, Hunter,” Tim says, and Hunter laughs again and then rolls back over and shifts up to straddle the weight bench, his thighs very . . . thighs about it. Tim tries not to be a weird little freak about said thighs, but in no way is he not a weird little freak about said thighs. 

Jesus, why are they so thighs. 

Hunter leans forward, bracing his hands on the end of the weight bench. Tim pretends to be oblivious to the existence of the other’s pecs and that big broad grin he’s back to wearing. It’s not like he’s not used to seeing totally different people wearing that face, between Kon and Match and literal Superman, and also like . . . Superboy Prime, fuck that guy forever, but Hunter still manages to look just a little bit more different than that, somehow. 

Tim literally does not even understand his own brain sometimes. Or at all, maybe. 

“I just keep thinking about doing the climbing, is all,” Hunter says. Tim forces his incomprehensible excuse for a brain back on track. “Like, the specific climbing of a specific somebody, mostly, but still a lot of climbing in general. And also how to convince said somebody to teach me how to have sex, like, in a way that is not the high school-level sex ed course somebody uploaded into my brain. Though like, that’s also a thing I keep thinking about.” 

“That doesn’t sound like you’re a slut, that sounds like you have a crush on someone,” Tim says, a little perplexed. “Or, uh, a psychosexual obsession with. But let’s hope for ‘crush’.” 

“Oh,” Hunter says, looking pretty perplexed himself. “Huh.” 

“The part where you’re perving on Nightwing, Red Hood, and Batman might be a little much, though,” Tim says dryly, mostly to move the conversation along before Hunter says anything that–

“Well, yeah,” Hunter replies with a shrug, leaning forward a little heavier on his hands. “”Cuz they’ve all got that same Bat-vibe somebody’s got.” 

“. . . what,” Tim says. 

“I really did not think I was being subtle here, dude,” Hunter says, raising an eyebrow at him. “Like, at any point.” 

“I literally made you,” Tim says, staring at him in disbelief. 

“Yeah, do you wanna maybe try some daddy kink and see how that goes?” Hunter asks, cocking his head with a thoughtful expression. “I feel like maybe we could do something with that.” 

“Asdfghjk,” Tim says, and falls off the floor again. 

“Like, no pressure, just asking,” Hunter says with another shrug. 

Okay, Tim thinks. Maybe Hunter’s right, and he did kind of make him kind of a slut, one way or the other. Like–maybe. Possibly. 

And maybe Hunter is also right about him having done this to himself, considering.

[prettypinkporkchop]

Hiii could you please do a Paul or Embry x reader where she’s been trying to get pregnant for a long time and everyone around her is getting pregnant so she’s really upset until she finally gets what she’s always wanted😊

You stare at the negative test. You and Embry were so sure this would go around! You've followed your doctors orders and done everything you were supposed to. But, unfortunately, that's not the case.

You sniffle and wipe a tear off of your cheek.

"Baby! I'm back!" You hear Embry call out.

You quickly gather yourself and throw away the test. "Okay, hot stuff! Hang on!" You call out. You finally step out of the bathroom and see him setting the takeout on the counter.

Embry is smiling and humming while opening the food and putting it on plates. He looks up at you. "Do you want tea or Kool-Aid?" He asks.

You're about to respond, but he notices something is wrong.

"Baby? What's wrong?" He walks around the counter and walks in front of you. His hands softly hold onto your arms.

You couldn't hold it in. You start bawling. "It was negative again."

He frowns and pulls you into a hug. He strokes your hair and shushes you softly. "It's okay. We are going to have a baby. I know it." He kisses your head. "I'll make sure of it."

Later that night, after you both have taken showers, you get in the bed. You really want to try again. You want to do this every night until it happens. Plus, Embry's a god in bed.

You get on top of him and press your lips on his. He kisses you back and squeezes your ass and then slapping it.

"You want to?" He mumbles in your mouth.

"Yes." You whisper and move your lips to his hot neck.

----

You rock Kim's baby in your arms. Jared is sitting next to you, smiling down at his baby boy. You're wishing this was your baby. Kai (son's name) looks so much like Jared. You dream about your baby looking like Embry.

"He's such a handsome boy. He's gonna grow up and be strong like me." Jared gushes.

"Hm. You're right. He definitely has your face. He may have your personality, too. Another Jared is going to be a challenge." You snort and look at him.

He glares at you. "Well, another you would be a pain." He replies.

Your eyes lower, and then you turn your face back to the baby. Nobody knows that you've been trying for so long.

Rachel and Paul's toddler crawls on the floor through the living room.

"Get back here!" Paul chases him while laughing.

"Paul Lahote, stop tormenting our son!" Rachel yells from the kitchen.

----

Every night, you and Embry try and try again. It's been like this for a couple of months now. Embry has been your biggest supporter. He's there to hold you when you're crying, and he's encouraging. He goes to every doctor visit and reminds you to take your meds and vitamins.

But this day, you're late. Two days late. You're so excited! Embry is gone with the guys. You text him to bring home a test. You fill the day with cleaning and cooking. You have a good feeling. You're so happy!

Finally, he comes home. He's a smiling mess. He drops the test in your lap. "Go! Hurry!" He squeals.

You laugh and run to the bathroom. You pee on it and wait.

Negative.

You scream in aggravation and throw the test in the trash. You stomp out of the bathroom. Embry stands up quickly and grabs onto you.

"I'm sorry.." He pulls you into his chest. "I'm so sorry."

You start crying and just let go in his arms. He lifts you up bridal style and brings you to the bed. He starts tucking you in and turns on the TV and hands you the remote. You watch as he tries to get you comfortable and make you feel better. But you want to try again.

You throw the remote across the bed. "Embry. Let's do it."

----

Embry is driving the truck while you look out the window. You both are headed to Jacob and Renesmee's house for a big dinner in celebration of her being fully grown. (Weird. I know.)

You start to feel a bit nauseated. You don't think too much of it. You haven't eaten today, so you're thinking it's that.

You guys make it there. The house has lights in the trees. You can see inside a few of the Cullens and some of the pack. You walk inside, hand in hand with Embry.

"Hey guys!" Renesmee calls out. She walks up to you both and wraps her arms around yours and his necks.

"Hey, Nessie! Congrats on your growth." You giggle and rub her back.

She pulls away, giggles, and then looks down at your stomach. She puts her hand there and looks up at you.

Your breath catches in your throat.

"You've been waiting for this, haven't you?" She smiles again.

A tear falls from your cheek, and you smile, choking out surprised and happy laughs. Embry wraps you up and spins you around.

"Oh my God. Baby, we did it!" He cries into your neck.

You hear cheering behind you guys.

He sets you down and grabs your face, kissing you. "I fucking love you." He mumbles against your mouth.

"I love you more." You reply and grip onto his shirt, still crying happy tears into the kiss.

[carlsm1ssingeye]

are you alright ?

c.g

warnings: none, fluff

carl grimes x f!reader

info: carl and reader are both 15/16 (s6) this is set in the alexandria era of the walking dead. carl never lost his eye !

you’ve known carl for a while. since you got to alexandria a few months ago. you still remember enid introducing you to everyone. you were nervous, not knowing how people would react to a new girl joining their group. you met everyone, it took you a while to learn their names, but you got the hang of it. carl, enid, ron, mikey. even though you’ve been here a while, they don’t know anything about you. well, not really. they don’t know that you were alone for more than a whole year after your family were ripped apart in front of you, they don’t know-

enough about that. you and carl have never really been fond of eachother. always bickering about something. you didn’t hate carl, hate is a strong word, you just don’t get along. that was, until, the alexandrian walls got smushed by a falling watch tower. walkers flooded in like water in a bath. people started dying. you heard screaming and went outside to be met with a bunch of walkers. you backed into an alley between yours and carl’s house, trembling at the sounds of the walkers gnawing on peoples flesh, the dead eating the living. you hit your head on something, wincing at, the pain. you could hear the screaming of terror or pain from their victims. your thoughts were put on a halt at the feeling of someone grabbing you…

a walker. you shoved it away, reaching for your knife in your waistband. it’s stuck. you began thinking of other ways to pierce through its brain, but then a knife stabbed through the back of its skull, blood spilling all over your body. the walker dropped, revealing carl standing there, a knife in his hand.

“are you alright? it didn’t bite you, did it?”

you stayed frozen, not knowing what to do with yourself as he quickly checked you for bites.

“no.” you managed to croak, and he looked up at your face.

“and you’re sure of it?”

you didn’t reply to that. he pulled you both through a door and into his house, before blocking up every door and window. his family always keep wood in the basement, especially for things like these. almost like they expected it.

he sat you on a chair and looked over you again, seeing the blood seeping from your head.

“walker did this?”

“no. i hit my head.” you mumbled, looking down as he lifted your chin, inspecting it.

“we better cover it. it could get infected.”

you didn’t protest, just sitting there as he got out a first aid kit and put rubbing alcohol on a cotton swab. your face scrunched at the pain as he dabbed your wound. he noticed, he didn’t stop though. knowing that it was for your own good.

he bandaged the cut as you still sat there, the silence uncomfortable.

“done.” he finally spoke up, you flinching at the sound.

“thanks…” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. everything had happened so fast. “where’s your family?” he looked at you. “i think their at glenn and maggie’s, their alright.” he smiled.

you felt your face heat up when you saw that grin. he brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. this was probably the first time you’d every gotten along. and to be honest, it felt nice. for a while, you just sat there, gazing into eachothers eyes.

then he cleared his throat, stepping back. “what do you suppose is going to happen? out there, i mean.”

you looked at him and shrugged, your face still pinky from before.

“i’m not sure.”

about a month later, everything was back to normal. ish. there were not walkers, but about half of your people were gone. including the leader. so now, rick grimes has taken over for her. you and carl fought less, and lately, you’ve even began to catch feelings for him. you haven’t said anything, just in case he doesn’t feel the same. but everyday that feeling gets stronger. and soon, you’re bound to pop.

you’re at ron’s house with carl, mikey and enid. enid clearly has a thing for carl, which makes you feel left out. especially when he flirts back. it makes your blood boil. mikey and ron are playing a video game while carl is reading a comic and enid is next to him. you’re just standing there, really. half the time you don’t even know why you’re there. and then you see enid touching carls sleeve. that was the last straw.

you cleared your throat, “i’m gonna go get a drink.” you left the room quickly, going to the kitchen. you sat at the island for a while, before carl came in.

“something wrong?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow. “you kinda stormed outa there.”

you just looked at him, not replying.

“y/n, really? i’m trying to help here.”

“does what happened a month or so ago not matter to you? what was that?” you blurted.

he sat next to you. “i could say the same thing.” he looked at you.

you didn’t know what to say to that, and just sat there.

“i didn’t think you were comfortable with it.” he claimed, his eyebrows knitting slightly.

“what’s that with enid then?” he looked at you, slightly surprised.

“there’s nothing with enid. nothing. I promise. i’ve told her to stop, but she won’t listen.” he got closer, “it’s you that i like, y/n.”

you looked at him, “and you’re sure?”

he chuckled, rolling his eyes. “yes, i’m extremely sure.” you smiled, he held your chin. “you’re beautiful, you know?”

“I’ve never kissed anyone.” you quickly quipped, he smirked. “even better.” your lips joint.

that was your first of many kisses with him.

this was my first ever time writing, thank you for reading! (i accidentally deleted it like twice and had to re-write it, damn)

i know it’s quite short and not the best but i tried and i hope to get better!

please leave suggestions or tips and tricks if you have any, i hope you enjoyed!

[sissytobitch10seconds]

Third Family

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Summary: While Lucifer had a shitty wife and a poor experience being pregnant the first time, he had always heard that the second time was easier. Given how great his life had gotten before that stupid test told him he was about to have another baby, it feels even harder this time around. Warnings: Mpreg, pregnancy, anxiety attacks, and mentions of past abuse Word Count: 6,657 Ship(s): Adam/Lucifer Morningstar

Archive link!

A/N: So this was originally going to be Alastor/Lucifer, but Adam/Lucifer has such a stronger hold on me and it ended up being easier to write them than it would be to write Alastor trying to be supportive. I really liked how it turned out and I hope that you guys enjoy it! Stay sissy and bitchy everyone <3

When most people spoke about shooting out of bed in the morning when they were expecting, they meant it in reference to morning sickness.

Lucifer’s situation was far different. Since he had taken the forsaken pregnancy test that had confirmed how deep into this situation he was, he had woken up at five o’clock sharp every day. Instead of his mouth filling with saliva as his vision swam, stomach churning, and throat constricting, his mouth would go entirely dry and his entire body would begin to quiver with the anxiety of the situation at hand. He’d had morning sickness with his previous pregnancy and was expecting it to start at any time, but it wasn’t what woke him up every morning.

Instead, he was faced with absolute fear. The two week mark of when he had found out that he was pregnant had just passed and he woke up the way that he did every morning since that test had glared back at him.

He shot up in bed, his body perspiring in every single place that the blanket was touching him. He threw it off of his lap and legs, before he was overwhelmed by the cold air around him and began to shiver. He tried in vain to swallow the nothing that was in his mouth and then licked around his teeth to try and get any saliva to coat his tongue. His eyes were blurry as he tried to rub the sleep out of them with hands that were quivering so badly he could barely hold them steady. His heart was hammering in his chest and echoing up in his ears, something that went along so well with the way that his breaths were coming out in sharp little pants.

He twisted on his bed so that his hooves were hanging off the side of his bed. It was easier to have his body in that position when he was dealing with these anxiety attacks, he was certain that it had something to do with the fall and all those long months that he had spent recovering from it. He set his hands down on his knees, where the human-looking part of him turned into goat, and tried to get his breathing back to normal.

Lucifer dropped his head down onto his hands as he put his elbows onto his knees, so that he didn’t have to go too far. His back was already starting to ache as his hips prepared to widen so that they could support the child that was going to be born from him in the next couple of months.

He had already contemplated terminating and then determined that there was no way he could do that, not when he was so attached to the little life inside of him and the idea of the baby that they might become. He had thought about pausing the pregnancy like he had done with Charlie, but that had brought him so much panic and grief. He also wasn’t sure that solution would work because the problem was the very daughter that he had carried two hundred years ago, not Heaven like it had been last time.

Lucifer removed himself from his bed once he had managed to get the panic under control. He removed his pajamas and sent them down to the laundry room where they would be returned to him at the end of the week. He liked the way that the hotel had been rebuilt after the fight with Heaven, the entire thing was far more functional. He adored his ex-wife even after all she had done to break his heart, but she certainly hadn’t had a very good eye when it came to renovating a building so that it was practical to live in.

He donned his usual clothing, though he noticed that he had to widen his belt by one notch for the first time since he was expecting Charlie. He tried to keep those memories away for the time being, since they were also contributing to why he was so nervous about everything. Things had been so rough for him when he was pregnant with her, especially since it had taken thousands of years for him and Lilith to feel stable enough in their kingdom that they could progress properly with the pregnancy.

By the time that he left his suite to go down for breakfast, since Charlie to make sure that they all ate properly to start off their day, he’d had another panic attack and quelled it. He’d gotten rather good at doing that, not that he ever wanted to admit it. The fact that he was the King of Hell, the Fallen Morningstar, the Devil, and still having panic attacks like he did when he had just emerged from stardust in Heaven was beginning to make him ashamed of himself.

He sat down at the table just as the doors opened and Angel and Adam walked in. They had gotten more chummy with each other since the hotel had been rebuilt, apparently they liked to bond about fashions and music from the time period that they both remembered. Lucifer couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to either of them until Adam sat down beside him again.

Their entire relationship had taken a weird turn that he wasn’t entirely sure that he liked, but he knew that he didn’t dislike it. It made his stomach flutter and his heart skip a beat and his entire body feel as warm as the sun on a hot summer day did. He didn’t know what that meant, he had never felt that way before and it was now driving him insane. 

“Good morning, everyone!” Charlie chirped as she walked into the main hall where they took their meals together. Husk followed behind her, carrying Niffty as she tried hard not to fall asleep. It was hard to believe that the young woman had been almost twenty when she died, but Lucifer supposed that was the curse that came with being a bug demon.

Soon everyone was seated around the breakfast table and began to dig into the food that Angel had prepared that day. Due to the fact that they hadn’t yet found staff that was suited to pass the background check of the hotel, they were taking turns cooking the meals that they all ate together. Alastor had to be supervised when cooking to make sure that none of the meats were human or demon in origin, but other than that they were all happy to pitch in to the group effort of keeping them all fed.

Lucifer piled food onto his plate and then began to eat it, but without the gusto that he usually did. Angel had made German pancakes with homemade applesauce and hand whipped cream, something that normally would have tempted the Sin of Pride into overindulging to the point of needing to take another nap so that he could work off all the carbs from the sugar. Today, his stomach was so tied up in knots that he felt like he was going to die on the spot. 

He picked at his food slowly and methodically so that no one could notice the way that he was eating. He knew that the people his daughter had befriended for her hotel were observant to the point of almost being critical. He knew that it would be a lot harder to fool them into thinking that everything was normal than it had been with the angels in Heaven. Even then, he had failed and it had resulted in the very land that they were currently chatting about.

Adam looked over at him about halfway through the meal. Angel and Niffty were arguing about something that everyone else was very invested in, which meant that they had some privacy to actually be able to discuss things between themselves. “Are you okay?” the First Man asked. 

He looked so much better as a sinner than he had as a Saint, especially since his body was modeled partially after Lucifer’s appearance because of how primordial they both were when it came to their magical essence. Adam had dark eyes like he had in the human world, but the sclera had also been turned gray instead of the usual white or yellow of someone that had ingested that amount of alcohol. His hair was still the same almost-curly brown that it had been in the Garden, but he had two goats eats popping out of the side and hanging down around his face. On the top of his head curved two horns that brushed against the back of his hair and ears. His skin was gray towards his fingers and his feet were cloven hooves with fur that was just as curly and brown as the hair on his head. He had retractable talons as most demons and sinners did, but he liked to keep them out so that when people turned their attention towards him he could push them out and get those scared looks that he was so fond of. His belly was still fat and large, a body that spoke of starvation finally sated by all the food that one could wish for in life.

Lucifer loved every single part of Adam and was sure that he always would. He knew that the parts that he hadn’t loved had come from Heaven, thousands of years of indoctrination and a heavy dose of magic that didn’t quite suite his body would do that to a person. Adam had changed when he was in what was meant to be his paradise because his body had never been meant for that land, which had resulted in him being tainted by it instead of filled with the golden goodness that came from the Saints. When he had fallen, he had returned back to the man that Lucifer had known in the Garden with all of the apologies and panicking that entailed.

It was no wonder that they had fallen in love and then back into bed together. Lucifer had been on thin ice with all the other angels for falling into bed with Adam when the two humans were meant to be courting each other. It had only been when Lilith had begun to refuse to be together with Adam that they were both finally shoved down into the deep dark pit that had led them to Hell. To that day he was never certain about why Lilith had been removed when it was Adam that he had first fallen into love with, but he supposed that it had something to do with the gender roles that God had assigned the humans with after He had gotten rid of Lucifer.

Now Adam was here in Hell, where he belonged. He was there to hold Lucifer and tell him that he was loved, adored, and worthy of all of that on top of it. It was nice to have a partner that actually encouraged his hobbies and listened to his ideas. Lilith had tried her best, but she had often acted like he was nothing more than annoyance that she had to deal with before she could do things that she viewed as more important. Adam didn’t think that way, he would watch Lucifer talk for hours with that lovesick smile on his mouth that would almost always result in them falling back into bed together, repeating their first sin.

“Babe, you okay?”

By the time that Lucifer managed to snap out of his thoughts, most of the table had turned to look at him. He sometimes forgot that he did not live alone in a big drafty palace with only his staff to keep him company. He thought that he had been doing a fairly good job at keeping up appearances so that they would all be none the wiser, but he was slipping because of all his worries.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied as he forced himself to smile again.

There was a long stretch of silence as the other inhabitants of the hotel determined whether or not they were actually going to believe him. Eventually, Angel loudly said, “Anyway! As I was saying.”

He continued on with the story that he had been telling everyone about the perils of his job and the rather uncomfortable situation that he had landed himself in. Everyone was laughing about it and listening to him intently, he was a very good story teller and the acting that he had done while making his films had lent themselves to his ability to make funny voices and overdone expressions so that he could accentuate his thoughts without having to say them out loud. The only person that looked uncomfortable about hearing the sinner talk was Vaggie, but Lucifer was sure that she would drop those stupid puritanical ideas if she wanted to be with Charlie for much longer.

Adam reached over and placed a hand on Lucifer’s knee to catch his attention, pointing his head in the direction of the door. Lucifer sat down his fork and grabbed an orange from the fruit bowl in the middle of the table. His fingers darted towards the apple for a moment, but he knew that whenever he tried to taste the sweet flesh of the fruit that he had tempted Eve with all those eons ago it would turn to ash in his mouth.

The duo walked out of the main hall where they had been eating with their friends and then began to make their way towards one of the private parlors. If the hotel was going to have more guests that were on different levels when it came to their redemption, then they were going to have to hold a lot of different classes going at the same time. The more Lucifer thought about it, the more overwhelmed he was becoming. His daughter was handling most of the ordeal, but he was still expected to help her while supervising the other Sins and running his own kingdom.

“Babe, you’re not listening again,” Adam said.

“I hadn’t even realized that you were talking, I’m sorry,” Lucifer immediately apologized. He had spent decades locked away on his own, his servants had tended to him but had never interrupted him while he was working. He had enjoyed that at the beginning, but after that turned into months and then years without talking to anyone, it had begun to turn into a nasty habit of ignoring anyone when he was lost in his own thoughts.

“Yeah, I could tell. What’s going on with you lately? You’ve been acting way different and not in the way that you usually do when you get pent up and I gotta fuck the tension outta you,” Adam huffed. Despite the crass words and hand gestures that he was making, his tone was still filled with concern and adoration. He had changed a lot since the Garden, but the loving part of him that Lucifer had first fallen for had returned to him full force.

He knew that he had to spill the secret to someone, even if he had hoped that he would have the courage to tell Charlie first and foremost. With two weeks of it hanging on his conscious and not a single conversation about it with his daughter, the other parent might as well be the first to know. He took a deep breath and then stopped in place, turning towards his lover, “Do you promise not to be upset with me?”

“What, are you planning on going to war with Heaven?” Adam asked with one of his boisterous laughs, the one that sent electric sparks down Lucifer’s spine.

He couldn’t help himself and smiled too. It dropped off of his face as he shook his head and said, “It’s more personal than that. Adam, I know that you have a complicated relationship with parenthood so I’m not going to ask you to be an active participant or even stick around in the hotel even though Charlie really likes having your explanation of what Heaven is like given that Vaggie and her don’t communicate at all, but-”

He was cut off by a hand reaching down to grab his own. He tilted his gaze up from where he had been staring down at his flat stomach and then looked to Adam. The First Man’s eyes were soft and his expression was gentle. He raised his other hand up to cup the side of Lucifer’s face so that he could bring their lips together for a sweet kiss. It wasn’t the kind that immediately turned passionate, that led them back to the bedroom so that they could continue to get themselves into each other’s hearts. It was the kind that was shared as a reassurance, that was a way for the other person to drink down their lover’s fears and leave them free to speak.

“It’s okay, you can just tell me. The parenting thing is kind of freaking me out, though,” Adam admitted. It was honesty that Lucifer would not have expected to get from the man that he had met on the battlefield a little less than a year ago.

“I’m pregnant,” he finally said. It felt like the information was ripped from his mouth and into the open air between the two of them. It was the hardest thing that he’d ever had to say, more difficult than admitting that the love he’d had for Lilith had fizzled out around the time that their daughter was gone and that he didn’t mind her leaving. Of course, it would have been far harder for him to say that if he had known that she was going to take Charlie when their divorce was finalized by the High Courts just a few years later.

The air in the parlor around them became increasingly stagnant as they both let the information sink deeper and deeper in. It was the first time that Lucifer had said that out loud in nearly ten thousand years, it was always a secret that was simply known in the royal family with Charlie and he had been keeping it tucked away in the privacy of his heart this time. He wasn’t sure what the response to it was going to be given what had happened last time, btu the longer that the silence stretched on the more he began to panic about it all.

“Are you joking?” Adam asked. His mouth was half open with the shock of it all and his dark eyes so wide they looked like they could give the night sky a run for its money.

“I would never joke about something like this, Adam,” Lucifer whispered as he tilted his head down and to the side. He was worried that yelling and complaining and panicking would follow the revelation and since he hadn’t mentally prepared for it from his lover, he was already beginning to panic himself.

Instead of harsh words and threats of violence, he was met with a strong pair of arms around his body to bring him in for a hug. The musky smell of his boyfriend and the reassuring warmth of a living sinner body consumed his senses. The panic that he had been feeling moments before washed away from him all at once so that the only thing he had to worry about was the little life inside of him and what the rest of the reaction would be. This was a good first step, but it was possible that something vile and unimaginable would come spilling out of Adam’s mouth when he finally got the time to open it.

The rest of his worries were quickly assuaged when the other man knelt down in front of him, his large hands grasping the fallen angel’s hips. Adam leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Lucifer’s stomach before he tilted his head up so that their eyes could meet, a stupid grin resting over the top of his adorable mouth. “I’m so excited to get to be a parent again. Being a parent in the Garden sucked so much ass, you don’t even know.”

“I would like it if you could explain it to me,” Lucifer said. He let out a gasp of shock when he was tugged down and then manipulated into a sitting position in Adam’s lap. There was plenty of furniture around them for them to sit on, even if they wanted to continue to ignore the boundaries of personal space, but Adam seemed content where he was.

“When I was in the Garden with Eve, we had three kids. We didn’t really want the third, but that was just how it was going to be. Every time we made a mistake with one of the kids, by losing our temper or feeding them wrong or changing their routine in a way that ended up not working, we were terrified that God was going to get upset with us. We knew that He was watching us at all times since we were his new favorite pet project, but that just made it all worse. Instead of feeling like we had a fucking safety net to fall back into as the first people to literally ever be parents ever, we felt like we were going to get in trouble for making the smallest of mistakes. We knew what had happened to you and Lilith, so there was always this questioning in the back of our heads about what might happen if we fucked up too. What would be considered worthy of throwing us out of the Garden? What would happen if we treated the children that God so kindly bestowed upon us in a way that he didn’t like? We didn’t get to be parents, we were terrified the entire fucking time and instilled that fear in Cain and Abel,” Adam explained. 

Lucifer smiled at the sarcastic comment about the children being a gift from God. Having carried and birthed a child himself, he knew that they were not a gift that had flown down from God’s very hands and into the arms of the waiting parents. It was something that was worked for, for nine months and then a labor that was grueling and painful when the Creator could have chosen to have it not be. Lucifer remembered when he had finally gone into labor with Charlie and the long, terrifying hours that he had spent with his legs hiked up in stirrups and Bel reassuring him that it was the height of medicine despite the way that Eve did it still being preferable by human women.

“I think that parenting in Hell is a lot different, then,” Lucifer commented. He slung one of his arms around Adam’s neck and then knocked their foreheads together. “I don’t want to have the same pregnancy or birth experience that I did with Charlie, but the parenting part that I was allowed to be around for was really good. We got to make our own decisions and we were private enough as the royal couple that we didn’t have to worry about being judged by our people or even our friends.”

Adam reached down with one of his massive, calloused hands, and cupped Lucifer’s stomach. He rubbed up and down despite his belly being as flat as it had been two weeks ago when he had first found out that he was pregnant. He would balloon out soon, he had carried Charlie like someone had stuffed him full of each type of melon after the next. “I want to make sure that you have the experience that you want. We had to do specific stuff with Eve, it was awkward and awful in a way that I don’t want to have to relive. Trying to get cravings for a woman that’s nine months pregnant when you have to scavenge and hunt for your food is a nightmare.”

“Thank you, Adam,” Lucifer said truthfully as he leaned down to get another kiss. He felt his heart swell with love and adoration for the man that was holding him now. It was a stark contrast to the way that things had been the last time that he had told a partner that he was pregnant. He knew that he couldn’t let that information sit inside of him any longer, just like he couldn’t keep the secret of his pregnancy any more.

“When I told Lilith that I was pregnant, she was excited but also so angry. She knew that it meant we couldn’t keep hiding things and that she had lost her chance to get into Heaven because she hadn’t been loyal to you sexually. Granted, you also weren’t loyal to her and God’s idea of marriage doesn’t make any sense. But it was scary, to see the way that she was restraining herself from an outburst. It wasn’t my fault that her seed took, it wasn’t something that I could change, but I still felt guilty for it.”

“And then you fell,” Adam whispered with a small nod.

“And then I fell. I thought that I was going to be expanding my family. I didn’t know what was going to happen to Lilith, no one had ever dared to go against what God wished in the way that we did. I had no idea that He had such a horrible place waiting for us. We made the most of it, but I had to freeze my pregnancy for thousands of years until we felt that it was safe for us to have our child. At that point the other Sins had fallen and established their kingdoms, we had figured out how the Overlord power system worked. Everything seemed wonderful, and I was sick of being four months pregnant. Charlie was one of the best things to ever happen to me if not the best. I had a second family and it was wonderful,” Lucifer said.

There was a small sigh from the man above him before one of those big hands cupped the side of his face so that Lucifer was forced to tilt his face upward and look at his partner. “Are you scared to tell Charlie that we’re expecting a baby because you think that you’re going to lose your family again?”

Tears welled in his eyes and then began to run in huge rivulets down his cheeks. He nodded as he tried to stifle the sob that was trying to push itself through his teeth and into the open air between them. “I don’t want to lose her! She’s my baby and I love her so much. I’ve lost everyone every single time I try to bring someone new into my life,” he blubbered.

Adam didn’t mock him for crying or his anxieties like he might have if he was still the man that he had been in Heaven. That place did horrible things to people, things that Lucifer never wanted to have to think about again. He just wanted to think about the way that Adam’s arms wrapped tightly around him as they rocked back and forth. “I promise that’s not gonna happen this time. Lilith made you a shit parent by taking your kid away from you when you were going through a really hard time. You tried your bes when you had the entire deck stacked against you. Now, you’ve reached out to her and you’re helping her with this weird redemption bullshit that she wants to try. You’re her father and she loves you so much. When you tell her, she is going to be absolutely overjoyed.”

The Devil was quiet for a long while as he let the words sink into his mind and heart. His family in Heaven had abandoned him because they viewed him as dirty and blasphemous, they had barely even been his family. Those that did love him had come down to Hell with him and while they had all grown apart to some extent, they supported him as King and visited when they had a moment in their own busy lives. Charlie loved him so much that she was willing to give him a second chance after he was so absent from her life. “Do you really think so?” he asked.

“I almost fucking know so, baby. She looks at you like you hung the sun and the moon, like you’re the Morningstar,” Adam chuckled. Lucifer knew that he was remembering the first time that they had met in the Garden, when Adam had decided that he was so beautiful that he must be God. It was blasphemous and wrong to think so highly of that compliment, he knew that he should assume that he pales in comparison to their Creator, but it felt good.

“I should talk to her today. Do you think that you could ask her to come in here so that we can get the chat started before I chicken out again?” Lucifer asked. “I’ve been doing it for almost two weeks.”

“You were going to tell Charlie before you told me about my own fucking kid?” Adam asked. There was a laugh on the tip of his tongue and a smile pulling at the edge of his lips that told Lucifer he wasn’t actually upset, but it caused his stomach to flip anyway.

He pouted as he explained, “If things went badly with her and she decided that she didn’t want to be my daughter anymore or something then I wanted to get it out of the way. I didn’t want to be excited to have a baby with you and tell her only for everything to come crashing down around me. Does… does that make sense?”

“Yeah, sorry for teasing you about it, sweetheart,” Adam said softly. The gravel in his voice traveled up Lucifer’s spine and made his heart melt in his chest.

“It’s okay, all is forgiven,” Lucifer replied. He leaned down and stole another kiss from the First Man before he removed himself from Adam’s lap. He sat down on one of the couches and finally let his hand come to rest over his womb, where his baby was growing bigger and stronger with every passing day. It had been something that he hadn’t allowed himself to think about before he had admitted it to Adam, due to what had happened during his last pregnancy. It had been heartbreaking to think about how long Charlie had to wait to make her appearance in the world, how long his body had been feeding her nutrients that had done nothing more than keep her alive instead of allowing her to grow.

He didn’t have much time to think about that sorrow as the door to the parlor that he was in opened up, revealing Adam and Charlie. Charlie bounced in with the pep and brightness that she always had, her face stretched wide in a grin of excitement. “Hey Dad! Adam said that there was something you wanted to talk to me about?”

“It’s something that we both need to talk to you about, actually,” Lucifer said. He felt more grounded to the earth than he had in along time as Adam’s hands came to rest on his shoulders from where the other man was standing behind the couch. “I want you to know that this came as a shock to both of us and if it hadn’t happened, we would have told you the other piece of information first instead of both at the same time.”

The smile began to drop from her face as her brows knit together in worry. She wrung her hands in her lap like Lucifer so often did, which made his heart swell with pride of his daughter. He may not have had a big hand in raising her thanks to Lilith going against their custody agreement, but she was still his own. “What���s going on, is everything okay? Is it Heaven again?”

“No, this has nothing to do with those fuckheads,” Adam quickly supplied. Heaven was one of the biggest fears that those within the hotel had since they had been faced with just a small portion of that realm’s wrath a year ago.

Lucifer took a deep breath as he reached up and tugged Adam’s hand into his own. “Adam and I are together. We started something like a relationship when we were together in Heaven but it fizzled out when your mother and I fell. We decided that it would be nice to try things out again but weren’t sure that it would be good for either of us until recently, which was why we didn’t tell you. I had been trying to think of a good way to break the news when something more happened.”

Charlie’s face was overcome with surprise and then confusion before it settled back to where it always was when she was dealing with the hotel guests. “So, you two are together? Romantically?” she asked. She was polite and prim, the perfect princess that her mother had always trained her to be. Lucifer wished that she had gotten to choose the path she wanted with her life instead of just following the one that was set out for her due to her birthright.

“We are, but that’s not all we have to tell you. Do you think that you can stomach some more news? I know that me moving on with someone else has to be kind of hard on you,” Lucifer said.

Finally, he got his daughter instead of Charlie Morningstar. She placed her elbows on her thighs and then her head down in her hands. She was staring at the carpet in front of her for a long while before she said, “I’m not really surprised that you moved on. Part of me hoped that you and mom would get back together, I think every kid of divorced parents hopes for that. But now that I’m an adult and I’ve been in my fair share of relationships, I can recognize that the two of you were never really happy together. I hope that Adam makes you actually happy.”

“There’s something more, isn’t there?” Lucifer asked. “Char, you can tell me whatever it is and I promise that I won’t be upset or disappointed.”

“You can’t promise those things, they’re your emotions and you deserve to feel them. I’m just… I know that Mom was the one that took my away and all, but sometimes I wonder if you resent me because I look so much like her. I wondered that for a long time, if you didn’t love me as much as you said you did because I was a remainder of the marriage that failed,” she admitted. She pulled her legs up to her chest and began to play with the fur on her ankles, something that he also did.

Lucifer dropped Adam’s hand and was next to her side in a heartbeat. He slung his arm around her shoulders and brought her head down to his clavicle. He cradled her against his body like she was a toddler that had a nightmare, instead of a fully grown woman. She was vulnerable with him and that deserved a proper parenting moment, something she had expressed wanting a few months ago. “Sweet, sweet Charlie. I promise that I wanted you with my entire heart. I fought for so long to get you, I would never just toss you aside or decide that you were too much like Lilith to keep.”

“What do you mean by that?” Charlie asked as she tilted her head back up towards him, her eyes inquisitive as they had been when she was newly born.

He sighed and thought about what to tell her. Eventually, he figured that the truth was better than any half explanation he could come up with so began the same story he had told Adam, but different because it directly involved Charlie and she hadn’t been there to see any of it. “I don’t know what your mother told you about her time in Heaven, but the angels were set to come down to Eden once every day so that we could monitor the humans and make sure that they were doing alright. I usually got stuck with that job because I was the youngest and my ideas were not what Heaven wanted to make on Earth. I liked it well enough, it gave me the chance to meet the humans and then get very attached to them.”

“Too attached,” Adam commented with a smirk. 

Lucifer shot him a look that made him snap his mouth shut and even look a bit remorseful, which was shocking enough that it took a few seconds before the next part of the story began. “Despite the fact that Adam and Lilith were husband and wife, we still fell into bed together. I only realized the consequences of those actions when I found out that I was pregnant. I wasn’t very good at hiding it because there kept being new, exciting and horrible things that I experienced. That meant that the rest of the angels found out too, and they found out more than just my pregnancy. Once they realized that I had defiled Lilith and that she was no longer fit to be Adam’s wife and the mother of humanity. We were thrown down into Hell, where the magic was far different.”

Explaining this all to his daughter was causing the memories to come back to him, so he had to take a minute to breathe through the panic. “I had lost all of my family, except for the few angels that fell with me and then later became the Sins. While it was nice to have them around, they were all trying to figure out how their new forms worked and what they were supposed to be doing here. Lilith and I decided that it wasn’t time to have a baby, so I found a spell through the beings that were here when we landed and I paused my pregnancy. I paused it for eons, thousands and thousands of years. Two hundred years ago, we determined that it would be a good time to bring our child into the world and then you came. I had another family after all the time that I had spent without one and it was so wonderful.”

“Me?” Charlie asked, her eyes wide with shock. “I guess I always assumed that Mom was the one that carried me because of the monikers that you both went by.”

“I was the one that carried you. I put up with morning sickness and mood swings and all the other messiness that comes with the first trimester of pregnancy because I was in love with you before I even knew you. I was nervous to tell you about this pregnancy because I didn’t want you to think that I was trying to replace you or make a third family or something. I love you with my entire heart and I want you to be a part of my family for as long as you will have me,” he said earnestly. It felt nice to get those words out into the open instead of bottling them up inside of his chest until he felt full to the point of bursting.

Charlie launched herself into his arms. They both tumbled back onto the couch while giggling and clinging to each other. Eventually the laughter died out and Lucifer was left just holding onto his daughter, which was what he had always wanted. She loved him and he loved her, and now they were finally getting the chance to have the relationship that he had always dreamed he would have with his children.

[theygender]

The funny thing about playing BG3 right after its release is like. Usually with RPGs I obsessively look up the dialogue for every interaction to make sure I choose the Right Thing but since this game just came out those kinds of guides just... don't exist yet. Like sure I can look up general walkthroughs for different quests, but there's not any articles detailing the approval/disapproval rating for every character on each individual dialogue option like there is for, say Dragon Age, so I'm having to actually fuck around and find out for once

[ladyloveandjustice]

#'he's going to boston' 'oh my god i'm so sorry i didn't know'

There's nothing sadder than having to send someone you love to Massachusetts😔

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Scent

Miguel O’Hara X f!reader

Summary: It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. (In which Miguel goes feral when you ovulate)

Word count: 4k+

Warnings: Language. Obvs. S m u t. Obvs. Oral, f receiving. P in V (no protection), cum eating. Cheesy probs. Reader says Miguel's name a lot lmfao not beta read.

Minors DNI.

Honestly, I don’t know how any of this stuff works. This is some bullshit and none of it makes sense. Enjoy.

...

Miguel was fucking losing it. 

He couldn’t focus, couldn’t keep his head on straight. There was a thick fog clouding his judgment, disorienting him like a fever he couldn’t sweat out.

It started with a scent.

Light at first, a barely there whiff of something. 

It lingered at HQ, trailing between passageways and different conference rooms. There were times when it didn't linger at all for weeks. Then it'd start right up again, progressively getting worse.

It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. How could it not be when you spent the most time with him?

It happened once a month for a week at most, and like clockwork, his body reacted viciously, betraying him of all logical thoughts. Your scent seized him by the throat in a sort of chokehold. Some days were unbearable, your scent so strong that he’d have to fight with every muscle and nerve in his body not to touch you, to not bend you over and—

Well. That wasn't a healthy thought.

Recently (the last two months to be exact), he’d have to excuse himself and step out of the room for a few minutes whenever you’d arrive from your world to report for duty, sneaking off to the restroom to tug on his cock till he felt some relief. Images of you would flash in his mind: you on your knees with your lips wrapped around him, or the pained face he'd imagine would twist your features when sinking down on his thick length. He'd come in his hand, sticky ropes of white, using his release to coat his stiff length and go again.

He never truly felt satiated. It was something to keep his appetite at bay. But once he’d come back and face you he’d get hard all over again, drugged out on whatever smell it was that emanated off of you.

He’d salivate like a dog and his bulge would grow uncomfortably large in his skin-tight suit. It got to the point where he couldn’t face you, and whenever you’d greet him he’d return it with a simple grunt, giving you a clear view of his broad, imposing back. He never looked at you anymore unless to sneak in a quick glance and even then, it’d make his cock twitch in desperation, the head weeping, begging to be touched.

He was fucking feral, like a Neanderthal, primitive and obsessed.

You smelled rich, mildly tangy—not like the fruity perfumes some of the spider ladies wore around him. No, it was something else entirely, something earthy, like what he imagined was between your delicate legs. Like wet cunt ready to be taken. 

And God, did he want to take it.

…

"Miguel." 

He tensed up at the sound of your voice, running a hand through his unruly dark hair. Maybe the cafeteria at HQ wasn’t the best hiding spot.

It was the middle of the month—July fifteenth to be exact—which meant you had that smell again.

You were ovulating.

He knew enough about female anatomy to put the pieces together when he realized that about two weeks after his body reacted to your scent, you'd be in a terrible mood.

"What crawled up your ass?" He'd asked you once, keeping his eyes on all his monitors but immediately noting your discomfort. You sat on a chair beside him, head in your arms as you leaned on the desk.

He could feel you glaring daggers at his profile.

"Shut up. I'm on my period, asshole."

He did shut up after that.

Blood immediately began to rush toward his cock, bringing it to life.

You stood in front of him, one hand on your hip while the other held a plastic container from the empanada joint everyone had a taste for. 

"What?" Miguel uttered, keeping his eyes trained on a particular stain on the otherwise pristine white table. Any distraction was a welcomed distraction.

You pulled back the chair opposite of his, plopping down on it unceremoniously. The action sent waves of your aroma toward him like a crashing wave, engulfing him completely. He stiffened, dropping his head slightly while the heel of his hand pressed over his growing bulge. 

"You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?" 

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said through gritted teeth, fangs visible when he grimaced. His scarlet eyes wandered over your face for a few seconds before he ripped them away, barely avoiding the twitch in your brow and the growing frown on your lips.

“Seriously?” You scoffed, “You’ve been avoiding me for, what, two months? I’m surprised I got a hold of you. You’re never in the cafeteria.” You ripped open the container, digging inside to grab the fried little snack. “Do we have a problem I’m not aware of?”

Miguel watched you take a bite of the empanada, committed to memory the way your tongue lapped at the grease coating your lips. His hand pressed harder over his cock, and at that moment he cursed himself for implementing the suit-only rule. He could really use a pair of sweatpants right now.

“Well? Do we?” You challenged him, defiant as always. You had this look in your eye that he’s seen before—your adrenaline was about to kick into overdrive. Always ready for a fight.

He sighed, shaking his head, willing himself to breathe. He felt sweat begin to bead across his hairline, strands of his hair sticking down the sides of his face. Your scent was becoming unbearable, overwhelming him to the point where he felt lightheaded. He licked his dry lips, carelessly running the tip of his tongue over his sharp canines only to pierce through the delicate muscle. The salty taste of iron exploded in his mouth and he grunted, pinching his eyes shut in frustration. 

"Mig."

“No!” He finally barked, slamming a fist over the table. It shook from the weight of his large hand, the empty container almost flying off the surface. You went wide-eyed for a moment at his outburst before pressing the last bite of your snack between your lips, unfazed.

“It clearly doesn’t seem that way,” you replied calmly, but the twitch in your brow remained and your eyes narrowed. You wiped your mouth and fingers with a brown recyclable napkin meticulously, “if you have a problem, say so.”

One thing you had in common with Miguel was your bluntness. You always cut to the chase, saying what you needed to without much thought. It was one of the things that he appreciated in a fellow spider person but right now it only served to irritate him. That last thing he wanted was to deal with someone as fucking stubborn as him.

He must've looked like hell because when you regarded him, the hardness in your eyes softened immensely as if only just realizing his disheveled appearance. You went to touch his hand over the table but he snatched it away before you could, glaring. 

"You don't look so good,” you reasoned quietly, stung by his actions, “d’you need some help?”

"M'fine."

"I don't think—"

"Listen to me very carefully," Miguel hissed, nose flaring and skin burning hot, "I need you to get away from me." 

"What—"

"I'm not gonna tell you again," he seethed, cock struggling to break free from the constraints of his suit, "Go. Leave."

You were stunned into silence, tapping your fingers over the table awkwardly before grabbing your mess and leaving without another word.

Miguel watched you leave with a groan, dropping his head back in aggravation.

He was so fucked.

…

You hadn't shown up to HQ in a while. He couldn't blame you. 

While that should've been a win for Miguel, it wasn't. Sure, the violent attacks on his body had diminished somewhat, but now, just because you weren’t around as much didn’t mean you didn’t leave his thoughts for a second.

He could've called you—had that stupid watch to contact you—see if you were okay. But his pride assaulted him every time he so much as glanced at his watch. 

His thoughts circulated and continued, imagining you in all the positions he wanted to put you in, which landed him back in the restroom for a daily cock tug when he should’ve been working.

The spiderverse needed to be controlled and admittingly, you were one of the best on his team. You were stealthy and intelligent—he needed you more than he'd cared to admit.

And...he missed you.

But you were off fighting crime and restoring the peace in your universe—at least that was the excuse you'd given him, only showing face when it was absolutely necessary.

Which, as of late, wasn’t very necessary.

And still, he suffered.

...

Earth- 0708. 

A shit show of a universe where the height of winter was in the middle of fucking August. It was snowing, small tufts of flurries lightly coating the ground in white.

Miguel knew exactly where to find you. Sunnyside, Lowery Street off the seven train. On the corner of a bodega by the broken lamp post. He could walk to your apartment complex blind if he really wanted to.

And there it was. He could smell you upon arriving—through the concrete and rusty red brick, up the five floors to your window—he could smell you. His hands shook (not from the cold) as his claws gripped the aging wall, his cock doing its usual swelling.

You must have sensed him immediately, slamming your bedroom window open and peering out into the darkness before he could even make it to your window. The cold wind blew and carried your scent. Mierda. 

“Miguel?” You called out, squinting down at him as he scaled the dusty brick wall. When he finally came face to face with you, he lowered his mask, revealing his flushed face and sweat-slicked hair. He could see his breath come out in short, little puffs.

“You couldn’t use the front door like a normal person?” You asked with a roll of your eyes, crossing your arms.

“When were we ever normal people?” It was meant to come out smooth as butter but Miguel’s voice was hoarse, throat seemingly drier than the Sahara. He cleared it, stepping through the window, turning around to quickly slam it shut. He was concentrating, forcing himself to take a deep breath before turning around to face you, except, you were already gone, disappearing deeper into your apartment.

He grunted, rubbing his eyes. He thought he’d gotten better at controlling himself. The gentle breathing helped, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t struggling to keep his cock under control. It twitched a few times, and he groaned, exiting your bedroom. It was now or never.

You were in your tiny kitchen, stirring a cup of tea while the TV in the living room softly played some sitcom he remembered you were into. You were in a black hoodie and gray sweats, your hair messily thrown up in a ponytail. He’d seen you this way more than he could count. When did you become so pretty? Miguel didn’t understand it. You were under his nose this whole time, and he never really looked at you. Well, that was wrong. He did, of course, he did, but he never indulged. He was too much of a workaholic for that.

“What do you want?” You asked, monotoned, “I took care of all the bad guys so I know you're not here for that.” You propped your elbows on your kitchen counter, resting your chin in the palm of your hand as you peered up at him. You’d always told him he looked massive in your apartment as if his shoulders would cave the entire place in, and now, with you looking at him like that—all doe eyes and confusion—just a tiny thing, well…his cock twitched.

He swallowed thickly, jaw tense as he looked away from you to collect himself.

“I gotta ask you somethin'.” The words rushed out of his mouth, the flashing images on the TV seemingly more interesting to him than anything else.

“Shoot.” 

“It’s… gonna sound weird, bare with me.”

“O…kay.” 

Miguel turned away from you as he always did, hoping to curb his sweltering need to take you against your wall like a beast. “Are you ovulating?” It was quiet for a beat, and his heart flew into his throat in pure mortification.

“What?” 

“You heard me, I’m not repeating it again.” 

“Miguel, what the fuck—” 

“Just—answer the Goddamn question, por favor.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, bowing his head in frustration. He felt hot, his body burning as if molten lava flowed through his veins. His tone must have done something because when he looked over his shoulder you were on your phone tapping a few buttons.

“...Yes,” you finally answered, bringing your gaze to meet his half-lidded eyes, “according to my app.” 

“Mierda,” He groaned, dropping his head in his hands, “fuck. Okay.” 

“You gonna tell me what’s going on, Miguel?”

“And you ovulate mid-month? Between the twelfth and sixteenth? No don’t—don’t look at me like that, please,” Miguel choked as he began to pace back and forth, ignoring the incredulous look on your face that was both humiliating and overwhelmingly arousing at the same time, “Just—just answer.” Another beat of silence engulfed you both as you searched the information through your period tracker with a shaky hand.

“Uhh, yeah, t-that’s right.” You placed your phone down on the counter, your tea now cold and long forgotten. “Mig…what’s with the questions? How d’you even know that?”

He finally paused his steps to run a hand through his hair before facing you from a safe distance, hoping you wouldn’t notice the growing erection burning hot between his legs from the angle he was in. If you noticed the large space between you both, you didn’t mention it.

“I haven’t been ignoring you,” you snorted at the comment, and again, he pinched the bridge of his nose, “I haven’t been ignoring you by choice, me entiendes?” 

“So what is it then?” You took a couple of steps closer while he took a couple of steps back.

“It’s your scent—you smell so fucking good and it's driving fucking crazy, muñeca.” 

“I-I don’t understand, Mig, what—”

“Look, I don’t understand it either,” he ran a hand through his locks again and again as if ready to rip the strands off, “all I know is you have a…scent when you ovulate every month…and, well…” he dropped both arms to his sides, standing there like an idiot as you stepped closer to drink him in. Your eyes traced him over, his broad shoulders and muscled arms, his thick thighs, and his engorged co—

“M-Miguel?” Your gaze was pinned to his bulge, pushing against the confines of his suit. “Why didn't you tell me anything?”

The question made him burn—made him bare his fangs and curl his hands into tight fists.

"What did you expect?” He spat, pacing again, “How was I gonna tell you some shit like this?" He licked his lips, his body feeling feverish. If he didn't leave soon he was sure to do something he'd regret.

“Miguel, come here.” He ignored you, much too irritated and embarrassed to do anything but just stand there. His jaw clicked, the bone shifting under the skin as he grinded his teeth in frustration. He could hear your footsteps padding softly behind him until you stood in front of him, craning your neck just to make eye contact.

It was unbearable being in your presence. He was going lightheaded again, the arousal almost blinding.

“Mig? D-did you need some help?” You whispered, your fingers ghosting over his chiseled abdomen, ready to trail lower but his large hand gripped you by the wrist, halting your movements.

“No.” He choked, “I’m not gonna force you to do something you don’t want to. Just came to tell you.”

“What if I want to?” You continued, lifting your free hand to press your warm palm over his heaving chest, “What if I told you I’ve wanted to do this for a long time?” 

Miguel hissed as soon as you cupped his erection, gently rubbing your palm up and down the smooth surface of his bulge, hidden behind the silky fabric of his suit.

“Poor Miguel—all this suffering, all this grief, when all you needed was for me to relieve you,” you tutted, feeling how incredibly hard he was, “so I have a scent, huh?” Miguel groaned, his head lolling to the side as he watched your careful movements. The friction wasn’t enough, but it was more than he could have asked for in the last few months. His hand was nothing compared to yours. “What do I smell like then?”

“Like wet pussy,” he swallowed thickly, hands fighting the urge to grip you by the waist, “smells amazing, muñeca.” He hissed again when you gripped him firmly.

“Yeah?” You smiled, your eyes just as hooded as his, “And what do you want to do to me?” 

A growl rumbled in his chest. Without saying another word, he pushed you back against the closest wall, caging you in his large arms.

“You have no idea the things I want to do to you.” He whispered, brushing the tip of his nose over yours. Your eyes fluttered, lips parting to take the tiniest breaths, chest heaving in arousal. 

“Show me.” You breathed before Miguel kissed you. He curled around you, sealing you away from everything that wasn’t him. Your scent had his head buzzing, had him licking wildly into your mouth, his fangs grazing your skin more times than you could count. 

He pawed at your hoodie, his claws sinking into the black fibers of the fabric. “Do you care about this?” He said between kisses, skimming the delicate skin underneath.

“It was an ex-boyfriend’s.” You yelped when Miguel tore into the hoodie immediately, ripping apart the seams with ease. You weren't wearing a t-shirt underneath, leaving you bare above the waist.

“Not important then.” He muttered, tossing the thick shreds of fabric aside in favor of touching your bare skin. He noted your eyes, how blown your pupils were at his actions. You were cold, nipples pebbling and goosebumps forming over your arms. Miguel cooed, his thumbs reaching out to rub the sensitive nubs on your chest, tugging them between his fingers. Your head fell back against the wall, a mewl escaping you. 

“Miguel,” you moaned, arching your body into his skillful hands. He brought you flushed against him, pressing his face into your neck and licking a stripe up to your ear.

“¿Qué pasó, hermosa? I barely touched you,” Miguel chuckled, lifting you up in his arms with ease and walking to your bedroom. He threw you on your bed, and within seconds, your sweats were pulled down with your panties, hastily tossed to the side. 

He observed you like a beast on the hunt, eyes trained on your glistening cunt. There it was, the source of his misfortunes for all those months, weeping and swollen with arousal, just waiting to be fucked. His mouth watered, watching you slowly swirl your fingers between your folds, coating two digits with your slick before presenting them to him.

“Wanna taste?”

He saw how your juices clung to your fingers like glossy webs when you wiggled them toward him. He kneeled in front of you, gripping your wrist in his hand and lapping at your essence, plunging your fingers into his mouth. He moaned in relief as if tasting you was the cure to every issue he'd encountered.

You gasped, mouth slightly ajar as you watched him. It was so obscene how this man took pleasure from your taste alone, coating your fingers entirely in his spit. You whined, the sensation of his tongue causing your cunt to flutter, desperate to be filled.

“Miguel,” you whined, “get rid of the suit.” He chuckled over your fingers, letting you feel the tip of his fang over the soft pads before releasing them with a gentle pop. He stood to his full height, dwarfing you, glowing in that suit of his. Slowly, the tech that held his suit together scurried down the length of his body like falling stars until he was completely nude. His cock sprung forward, finally released from its prison, standing large and proud.

“Oh my god,” Miguel heard you mutter, saw how your eyes were trained on the angry red tip, shining with precome. His chest puffed with pride. You licked your lips, mind already set on the task you'd given yourself. You moaned, desperate for a taste of him.

He didn't give you much time to react, surging forward to place a hand around your delicate throat, putting the slightest bit of pressure before pushing you down flat. 

"Next time. I need to taste you." His eyes were glowing, burning red in the dim lighting of your bedroom. He knelt again, grabbing your hips firmly and pulling you roughly toward the edge of the bed before devouring your cunt like a starved man.

"Shit," you cried, hands immediately tugging on his hair as you threw your head back, "M-Miguel." He was insatiable, tongue swirling around your clit several times before lapping at your soaked folds, moaning at the tangy taste. 

"Que rico," he muttered to himself, the vibrations of his voice over your cunt causing you to cry out. He continued his assault, dipping his tongue into your hole, a testament of what was to come. Then, without warning, he plunged his middle finger inside, immediately hitting something that made you see stars. You choked and heaved, pulling at his hair as he fucked you with his thick finger while sucking on your clit.

"Fuuuck, Miguel, I-I think I'm—" you threw your head back, eyes rolling as you came, gushing all over Miguel's mouth and hand. You trembled, almost sobbing when he hadn't let up, feasting on your juices as his finger continued to thrust into you.

"M-Miguel, I can't," you whined, your hands fighting to lift his head away from your aching cunt, but he ignored you, too drunk on your taste to stop. He carefully added a second finger, easily finding a rhythm to thrust into you. The stretch had you gasping for air, thighs trembling on either side of his head. If two fingers were too much for you then his cock would surely be a challenge.

Miguel's eyes were closed, tongue hungrily lapping at the wetness you produced, and within seconds had you falling apart with a wicked moan. Your cunt squeezed his two fingers when you came again, coating his hand and chin with your slick. You sobbed, begging him to stop, and he did, placing a wet kiss on each of your inner thighs before carefully pulling his fingers out.

"Look at me, hermosa." You hiccupped, craning your neck to look at Miguel with blurry eyes. He already had his red gaze pinned on you, and when he had your attention he placed his cum coated fingers into his mouth, humming in approval at the taste.

You were mesmerized, not even fucked by his cock yet but somehow already drunk on the anticipation. You whimpered, watching him lap up the last of your juices on his fingers.

"M-miguel?"

"You taste so fucking good," he growled with a shake of his head, pushing his face into your pulsating cunt one more time to breathe in your intoxicating scent. His hot breath over your pussy made your toes curl, sighing in contentment when he placed a quick kiss on your swollen clit.

Miguel climbed on the bed, caging your hips with his muscular thighs. His cock slid against your folds, your slick already lubricating him. You were still shaking, your hands now finding purchase on his biceps.

"¿Estás bien, amor?" He asked, leaning down to pepper kisses over your tear stained face. He was getting sappy, he knew. He couldn't help it, not with the way you came so pretty for him.

"Mhm," you sighed, letting him arrange your trembling legs over his hips, his cock pressing more firmly into your aching wet core. 

"Good." He spit on his hand and ran it over his stiff shaft a few times before pushing your thighs up so that your knees touched your shoulders, effectively folding you in half. He lined up the head, ready to push in, but stopped when he heard you whimper.

"It's been a while, Miguel," you explained with wet eyes, "I haven't...in a while a-and you're so big—"

"It's okay, I know you can take me, hm?" Miguel brushed a few damp strands away from your sweaty face. He leaned down to kiss you, and he knew you could taste yourself on his lips. It made his cock twitch over you, and with no further delay he notched the head of his cock into your hole, slowly pushing in.

You moaned, eyebrows knitting at the stretch of him. He panted, pushing inch by devastating inch, all the while watching your face for any signs. You were falling apart, eyes screwed shut and nails digging into the meat of his arms.

"I can't," you choked, your hips fighting against the offending pain, but Miguel was quick in securing you in place, continuing to spear you with his cock, "M-Miguel, y-your too big, it's too much!"

"Shhh, hermosa, si puedes," Miguel closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the way your cunt fluttered over him, fighting to take him in, "look how good you're doing for me, mm, así mismo." 

He pushed deeper, swallowing your cries with a kiss as he bottomed out, his balls pressing nicely against your ass. 

"¿Ves? " He cooed, bumping his nose against yours as you whimpered, "I told you, you could do it." He chuckled at your glare, kissing you again before thrusting experimentally into you.

You moaned, tossing your head back, exposing your throat. You felt full to the brim, completely stuffed. Miguel wasted no time surging forward to lick and nip at your neck as he moved above. Each thrust shook your bed, the springs of your mattress coming to life as Miguel fucked you deeper. Your pussy was drenched, soaking his cock as he glided in and out of you effortlessly. The stretch burned but it was delicious, and Miguel knew you were cock drunk when your mouth fell open, tears running down your cheeks.

"¿Así te gusta, hermosa?" Miguel moaned, his breath fanning over your skin as he pounded deeply into you. His cock reached something within you that had a sob ripping from your throat.

"Oh my God," you whined, feeling the constant slap, slap, slap of his balls against your ass, "Fuuuck."

"That's the spot?" He heaved, his fangs glistening with saliva, "That's where you want it?" He continued his relentless pace, hitting that spot with precision over and over again. The sounds of your squelching pussy made him feral, slamming into you until you screamed, watching you fall apart before his eyes.

You came hard, gushing all over his cock, vision blurry and head in the clouds. Miguel helped you ride your high until you were nothing more than a quivering mess below him, sobbing as he continued to thrust before emptying his load inside you.

He grunted, head tossed back as he pressed his hips tightly against you, filling you up with everything he had. 

"Fuck," he groaned, pausing to give himself a moment to breathe before slowly fucking his cum into you. It was too much, leaking out of your hole and over his cock, soaking into the sheets below. "Even better than I imagined." He muttered, shifting to pepper kisses all over your face again. You sighed in content, feeling comfortable in the way his cock was still nestled in you.

"¿Estás bien, muñeca?" Miguel asked, dropping his forehead against yours. He still had you folded in half, his large arms on either side of you. You nodded with a sigh, turning your head to place a chaste kiss on the inside of his wrist.

"Good," he grinned, gently snapping his hips against your ass, letting more of his spend leak from your hole, "cuz I'm not done with you yet."

[bunnys-kisses]

house sitter au

while they serve their country, you serve them! *salute*

task force 141 are good at what they do. their ranks and medals are impressive, but it's hard coming home. home for them for a long time was a mediocre flat in central london that was vacant most of the year. it didn't help with the loneliness and disconnect the men felt after time abroad.

that's where you came in. an impressive resume and a bit of confidence that if you could handle toddlers, then you could handle four grown men!

when they were home, you helped clean and made meals. when they were away, you got free reign of the entire house. it didn't help that the paycheck every month was impressive.

the one thing they didn't tell you about the job was the lingering gazes of the men who you lived with. they never did anything, they wouldn't do anything without your consent. but when you were in the garden pulling out weeds (when was the last time the lawn was taken care of) you saw price by the doorway with a cup of tea in hand, watching you grumble to yourself. then when you were cooking lunch for yourself, you felt the hot gaze of johnny against your backside as you reached to the top shelf to grab some salt (who put this so high?). then it was simon's eyes on your lips as you enjoyed some ice cream after a long day dusting (how were these guys not sneezing from all the dust!). finally it was gaz who made a comment about how you looked nice when you were scrubbing the floors. he laughed it off as a joke, but the way he looked at you was a little more heated.

four pairs of eyes lingered on every part of your body, even the parts that you were insecure about. to end up in bed with them wasn't hard. it first started with the captain, then you made your way through the ranks.

price was burly and strong, he had you pinned under him on his large bed. his hands on your hips as he buried his cock into you. your ass in the air but your upper half was flat against the mattress, price soon interwove his fingers with yours as he thrusted into your sweet cunt. you realized soon after that he really liked when you called him captain. or better yet, daddy. you didn't know that you reeked of daddy issues, but price could smell it from a mile away. but don't worry, daddy's got ya. when he was finished fucking you, he'd play with your overstimulated clit while he smoked. he made sure to exhale away from you. he was the first however to punish you when you were being a 'bad' girl. sometimes it was shining his boots, other times you were the one getting his boots dirty. (hope you like rough laces against your soaked clit!)

johnny was a wild card. he liked to bite. and it wasn't like his teeth were too blunt to cause any damage. after the first time you were with him, you made him go to the drug store to buy you concealer to cover the jackson pollock-esque hickeys on your neck! he offered to buy you a collar to wear inside and you narrowed your eyes at him. "if anyone here needs a collar it's you, mactavish." but he could also be so sweet. while he liked it fast and rough, he always made sure his number one girl got to finish as well. usually before him. his kisses were sloppy, he was like a dog sometimes. his favourite place to fuck you however was in the yard outside. he usually have to shove his thick fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet. no one needed to know just how NEEDY you were for his cock. the number of times the other men caught him just pounding your sweet cock, using that strength of his to his advantage was something else. and of course, when they caught you, they hung around. three other men watching you face down in the grass with johnny having you by the hips. his praise his filthy, almost degrading. you were his special girl, but you were also a massive whore. but don't worry, bonnie, johnny will happily fuck any hole you have open.

simon was difficult. he only found out that your legs were open for business after he heard you and johnny going at it. the sound of the bed creaking and the scottsman's filthy tongue. but unlike johnny, simon was a little too big for you. while your sexual encounters started with oral and fingering. he managed to get just the tip in. but it wasn't enough, he eventually sank every last inch. the feeling took the wind out of you and you couldn't sit right for days after. his pace was slow, methodical. he watched you with a keen eye. the rise and fall of your chest, the noises you made. he knew he was selfish for taking so much of you, but you were unlike anyone else. after that, he started to take his mask off more. if you saw (and felt) his cock, you might as well see what was under the mask. cue a lot of worship from you, kissing at his heavily scarred body. he'd just hold you in his arms while you were in his lap.

kyle was the sweetest which compared to the other hulking men you were living with. it wasn't a hard bar to clear. all of them complimented you, but kyle was the one who'd bring you flowers when he returned from a mission. he mostly liked to keep his intimate time with you in his bedroom. his favourite position was to take you on your side. him spooning you as he thrusted his cock into your tight pussy. his nose in your hair as he moved against you. he knew the other men were taking your pussy for a joy ride, so he wanted to make love to you. flowers, candles, sweet nothings. the only problem was, instead him wanting to jump your bones. you wanted to jump HIS bones. you got loads of body worship from him, lots of praise to. he also liked when you called him by his rank, while not AS impressive as captain or lieutenant, it was still something he was proud of. he'd take you missionary style but a lot of the time, loved having you on top. with the afternoon light bathing your body in golden rays. he rarely left marks or bruises. no one needed to see what you two did in your off time. it was a secret for him and him alone. regardless of how you two fucked, he was the king of after care, letting you rest as he would read to you. either the book he had picked up while away or an article on his phone. he chuckled when he heard you snoring.

but sometimes, it was hard to choose between two of them at a time. so you ended up with both johnny and simon's cock pushed inside of you. your mouth hung open and your mind drawing a blank. but don't worry, they're worshiping your cunt. cooing about how sweet it is that you can take BOTH of them. of course you could! you were made for them. your stomach feels dense after they cum inside you about three times. the feeling of their cum in your gut makes your lethargic and just curl up after they get their fill.

other times its kyle and price. while they aren't pushing your pussy to its absolute limit. it still takes a lot out of you. you were on the floor of price's bedroom, riding the captain while facing kyle who had his cock in your face. as you moved your hips against the older man, your mouth and hand were on the sergeant's cock. you found out that both men liked it when you were covered in their cum, not push it inside of you as deep as they could.

when those who hired you asked how the job was going after a few months. you meekly asked what the health insurance policy was and did it cover birth control *hides face*

(you'd find out within a year that no amount of pills, iuds, rings or implants could stop one of those boys from giving you a baby)

<3

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

A Week (He Will Take You)

~

Danny moved to Gotham for school, while there he noticed that Gotham's ambient ecto was really murky for lack of a better word.

This didn't really affect him too much besides a mild headache every once in a while but that also just might be stress from all his school work so maybe not.

Anyway

This murky ecto seemed to effect the people who lived there or more importantly the ghosts,

They were visible to the human eye like most ghosts back in Amity but instead of looking very much like a ghost they still looked like humans if a bit off putting.

They all seemed to be continuing their normal lives as if still fully alive, with the people around them none the wiser.

Danny noticed this and began approaching them to figure out what was going on.

Apparently the murky ecto in the city had made it so that they were strong enough to still continue a somewhat normal life but not be able to cross over to the GZ.

In other words they were stuck in Gotham

Danny was the Ghost King so he could easily fix this problem, all he needed to do was give them a bit of pure ecto for around a week to fully stabilize them them then he would just open a portal into the GZ and they could cross over with all their things also transferring into the GZ for their new haunt.

Unfortunately this looked rather worrying to an outsider,

Imagine you're used to your neighbor being very outgoing so you and others see them a lot suddenly this man seems to appear in their life out of nowhere an at exactly one week, your neighbor and all their belongings in their home disappear no trace to be found.

You tell people and they begin saying the same story they knew someone and them a man with black hair and blue eyes appeared in their life, then they and all their things disappear in exactly one week.

Of course the police in Gotham do the bare minimum so they're no help.

But it starts to begin a trend, especially online.

"Oh careful or the blue eyed man will make you disappear in a week"

This of course after time catches the bats attention, Gordon had already given them all the information he had.

"Young adult early twenties, dark hair, blue eyes"

That was it.

The bats look into it and from their point of view Danny is a serial killer.

But they can't find the connection between all of his victims, they range from young children and the elderly from different backgrounds absolutely no connection,

Worrying enough he doesn't just make one person disappear he has taken entire families up to over a dozen, without anyone figuring out how he's doing it or why at all.

The disturbing thing also being that he seems to take everything in their home, leaving it like it has always been empty

Like no one had been living in it.

People have tried to take photos of Danny get some kind of evidence of his existence, but when they try to do it, it either comes out completely corrupted or their devise simply shuts down fully.

Danny of course has no clue what is happening he's just happy that he's able to help so many ghosts, and is trying not to fail his exams.

~

Danny leaving the house he just helped: "That went easier than I expected!"

Neighbor peeking from the window: "Shit it's that guy! "

~

Red Hood marching down into the cave: " The fucker took many from my territory without me even realizing it!"

~

Tim: "I'm pretty sure his kill count is nearing the hundreds and he just started like maybe 4 months ago, this is bad."

Barbara: " I think I got a theory, this matches up with the new school year beginning so maybe their not a Gotham native which narrows down my suspect list."

Bruce: "Hn."

Tim: "Yes thank you B for the insightful commentary"

~

Danny trying not to fall asleep while on his way to class: "Strange I keep seeing shadows following me, oh well must be the stress!"

Bats who are pretty sure Danny is the killer: "Has he done anything suspicious yet?"

~

Just an Idea

[eupheme]

k06. free use + somno | use your love

old man logan x f!reader

rated e - 2.4k

tags: free use, possesive!logan, somno, kitchen sex, car sex, masturbation, oral, spitting, light encouraged choking, cock warming, creampie, feelings

There’s already a throb in his cock when his fist twists the doorknob. Some sort of conditioning. The unspoken way that he knows that you’re his.

Plucking at this deep, possessive streak that he never knew he had, until he started losing everything. Everyone.

Or maybe it just feels good to admit that he wants something. To allow himself to take something that’s offered so freely. To finally feel something, after months - years - of tamping everything down.

(Or - you and Logan have a certain, unspoken arrangement.)

There’s a certain sense of relief knowing that you’re waiting for him.

An outlet for the frustration that simmers inside. A prickle under his skin, teeth gritting a little too hard. Another night of playing nice. A chauffeur for dickheads that he would’ve threatened to stab through, a lifetime ago.

Back when things didn’t matter, the way they did now. Before the weight he carries. When a brawl at a bar would an inconvenience at best - that ache of pain that healed with a breath - instead of something that would have him down for days.

Never liked killing, deep down. Just never had to worry about it like this before.

Achingly aware of how he’s slowed. The groan of his joints, the pull of his muscles. Knuckles swollen, as he grips the steering wheel, pulling up in front of the smelting plant.

It’s still early. Still needing his headlights to navigate the backroads, eyes narrowed in the pale, rising sun.

The crunch of his steps against gravel is the only sound, as he heads inside.

There’s already a throb in his cock when his fist twists the doorknob. Some sort of conditioning. The unspoken way that he knows that you’re his.

Plucking at this deep, possessive streak that he never knew he had, until he started losing everything. Everyone.

Or maybe it just feels good to admit that he wants something. To allow himself to take something that’s offered so freely. To finally feel something, after months - years - of tamping everything down.

Putting Charles first. Grieving silently. Keeping secrets.

It’s familiar, how he finds you. Even as the days grow shorter, the desert heat lingers. The thin sheets twisted around your legs.

An invitation, in the way you’re already stripped bare - a glint of silver between your breasts.

He always looks for it.

That silent sign you’ve come up with. An encouragement to take what he wants, when he wants it.

Only once had you taken his dog tags off, since he gifted them to you. He can still remember your glare as you ripped them from your throat, slamming them down on the bedside table.

He had pissed you off. Said something shitty. Leaving you to fume.

But you had still come back to him, in the night. Letting him write out apologies between your thighs. Murmured in your ear, as he ground himself into you.

Forgetting by morning. You always were forgiving. Knows you deserve better, but he’s been an old dog for a long time now.

Hard to change, even though he tries.

He lingers now in the doorway, for just a second.

Should eat something, can’t remember the last time he did. Something packaged, taste secondary to the fuel that he needs more than ever, as he slowly knits himself back together.

Used to taking whatever he could find, before you.

There’s leftovers in the fridge, but all he can think about is how he bent you over the counter as you waited for the timer to wind down.

How you laughed and squirmed as his chest pressed to your back, when he surprised you. Slipping into stifled moans, as his fingers dipped beneath your waistband. His mouth against your throat, lips pressed against the flutter of your pulse.

The food tastes better when he remembers the way you had cried out his name, his cock halted inside of you. Almost burnt dinner, with Joe distracted you were.

But that will have to wait, now that he’s seen you.

Would love to wake you up. Hear the morning-early rasp of his name. The scratch of your nails against his shoulders - ones that might linger for hours instead of seconds.

Finds that he doesn’t mind getting a little marked to, as long as it’s you that’s doing it.

But you look so sweet, sleeping on your side, and he loves the little moans you make as he tries not to wake you up. Tongue fitting between the cleft of your thigh as he hikes your leg a little higher. Bending himself down to the mattress - ignoring the dull ache in his back - so he can fit his mouth fully against you.

He’s become greedy, over time. Resource-guarding affection, teeth bared in a snarl.

Needing that proof that you want him. Still so focused on all your little signs, even if you’re his to take.

Another lick, feather-light. Resisting the urge to press himself flush. Work his tongue into your pussy, until he can taste himself from last night.

Knows he has your sleep schedule fucked up. Finding moments in the liminal space at dusk and dawn. His edges softened with sleep.

Heavy-limbed, as your ass pressed against his front, earlier. Squirming, teasing, until he had pulled you astride him. Looking every bit an angel with the way the setting sun haloed around you, his eyes half-lidded as his morning dawned.

“Go on, sweetheart,” He had rasped, voice low, “If you need it that bad, then ‘m sure you can put in a little work.”

His salvation glinting between your tits with each bounce - your moans pitching high as your nails bit into his chest.

It’s returned, now. Palms curving where your thigh meets your ass. Cupping and squeezing, angling you until he can taste your dampness against his mouth.

Always so fucking responsive. Your hips flexing in their sleep, when he dips down to tease at your clit.

Letting your dreams swirl in and out, winding with pleasure as the taste of you swells against his tongue. Skin turning slick beneath the spit that he lets drop from parted lips.

Making sure you can take him. You always can, always do. But his cock throbs at the thought of slipping so easily into you, the wet and warm heat that awaits him.

Another bitten-back groan as his mouth covers you again, and it’s then that you stir.

He meant to give you a little more time. Let you come from just his mouth, wake from your dreams with a shout as you pulse against his tongue.

Hands squeezing your thighs, keeping you in place for a little longer. The sleepy cadence of your breath turning short, sharp, as you’re brought back out.

His name mumbled out in your sleep, and it’s enough that he’s tugging at his belt, loosening the buttons.

Layers peeled off and kicked down at the edge of the bed, leaving them to them crumple on the floor.

Hand rough as he fists his cock, another drop of spit smeared across before his thighs nudge yours wider. You shift easily, belly-down, with the guidance of a rough palm against your hip.

And for a moment, he just looks.

Admires.

A hand coming down heavily against your ass. His palm molding to flesh, soft skin giving as he tugs you open.

Pretty little holes that he can’t get enough of stuffing full. A rough groan in his chest as his other hand works faster, squeezing at the leaking head. A thumb shifting down to press at your folds, until he can see you clench in your sleep.

Empty. He can fix that.

Angling himself down, until he’s nudging at your hole. Smearing himself against spit and slick, watching how the tip just eases inside you. How you clench instinctually around him.

A soft sound pulls from you then, as he sinks a little deeper. Watching how you stretch tight around him, as he disappears into your wet warmth.

Pulled from sleep by the time he’s pressed flush, your fingers digging into the sheets as your back arches.

Awoken from a pretty dream, only to find it true. Already you’re trying to take more. Eyes heavy-lidded as your head turns, trying to see him in the golden blush of dawn.

“Feel so fucking good, sweetheart.”

Fingers splay out against your waist. Dimpling your curves as he squeezes - a reminder that you are only flesh and bone, beneath him.

Heat and warmth and rushing blood in your veins, as he inches out, only to drive deep.

“Logan.” You squirm, each rock of his hips dragging you out of your haze.

Your ass sways, as he sets the pace. The syrupy-slowness gone, when you use your leverage to meet his thrusts. Face buried in a shared pillow as you muffle your sounds.

"Lemme hear ‘em." He husks, pitching forward - a low rumble as he keeps you pressed flat against the mattress, “Come on baby, wanna hear what I’m doing to you.”

Another rut of his hips, as his forearms settle on either side of your ribs. A hand slipping beneath, cupping a soft breast as his nose skims up the base of your neck.

Inhaling you, how his own scent clings to your skin. Melding with the sweet musk of your arousal - he’d bottle it up, if he could.

You moan, at the squeeze of his hand. At the heavy slap of his balls against your clit, sticky from the arousal that drips from you.

Calloused fingers pinching at your nipple, as the beast inside him growls, whines, then goes silent. That anger ebbing, with the way you clench down each time he slips from you, as if trying to keep him inside.

Another whine, when his elbow plants by your arm, his hand spanning loosely beneath your jaw. The ball chain cool against his skin, where the silver hooks around his thumb.

An urge to taste you again, and he does - a groan at the way your lips part so quickly for him as he angles your face to his.

The moan he swallows when his tongue brushes yours, how he knows you’re close with the way you string tight beneath him.

“Fuck, I missed you.” It’s breathed out against his lips, your fingers mapping his. Encouraging his hold to tighten around your throat, until you’re fully anchored in his grasp.

Almost an embrace. Could be, if he let himself soften. Instead, his hips snap harder against the soft flesh of your ass, and he hears the whine it pulls from you.

“Just like that. Don’t stop.” Your nails prick the back of his hand, your voice strained, “Oh my god, I’m so close-“

Doesn’t think there’s anything that could drag him away. Spearing himself again and again, the head of his cock grinding against a spot that makes your eyes roll.

A spot that has you panting, murmured pleas that turn into broken moans.

Doesn’t know when you got him so wrapped around your finger, but he’s curled firmly around each knuckle. A growl in his throat, his own release nipping at his heels.

Holds back just long enough to feel you tremble beneath him. The way you arch into his weight, loosening the moan you held back before. Brought over the edge by the rocking weight of his cock, the pinch of his fingers.

Pride washes over him, as you leak around his cock. The tight pulse thrumming as he fucks you through the waves of pleasure, soaking in your pitched-high cries. His life went to shit years ago, but even in the throes of exhaustion he’s never grown tired of pulling them from you.

He can do this, at least.

“Fuckin’ choking me, sweetheart.” He grunts, that tell-tale tightness in his belly. An urge to pin you down, hips pounding until he’s finally spilling inside you.

Letting the fire in his veins burn off the last of the thorns that sank into his skin throughout the day.

You let him.

He lets himself - face buried in your neck ask he finds that rough pace again. The slick slap of his hips as you pant beneath him.

“Please, Logan.” Your voice buzzes against his palm, “Wanna help you. Use me-”

Been using you a long time. Dependent now on the reassurance. On the way you look at him, touch him - so fucking soft. Soft beneath him now, as his groan pitches low.

“Gonna fucking come, baby.”

It’s gravel-rough, teeth gritting as you tighten around him, “Gonna keep it inside, yeah?”

“Yes.” You beg. Tugging at his palm until it loosens, until you press your lips to his skin. Across his knuckles, tongue dipping between - slipping against sensitive skin.

It’s dangerous, being that close.

It makes him come - hand wrenching away just as his claw threaten to prick through. Just able to hold them back, as his hips drive flush against yours.

A ragged moan muffled against your skin as Logan holds himself deep - letting your walls milk his orgasm from him. Fingers pinching into skin, as he keeps you in place, still enough that you can feel each throbbing pulse as he fills you.

He missed you too.

Always does.

The hours away are spent going over memories like snapshots. Ones that cling to him, his limo.

The echo of you on top of him, in the backseat. A payment you didn’t have to make - he’d take you anywhere - but you were all too willing to.

Eager to prove to him you could take it, as your nails bit into his suit. Still dripping out of you, pooling against soft fabric, when your face nuzzled into his lap as he drove you back home.

Knuckles pinched white around the steering wheel, as you kept him warm in your mouth.

Didn’t have time to take you a second time before he had to leave, but it didn’t stop him from fitting those fingers inside you - making you squeal as he fucked himself deeper, just before his evening began.

Stroking himself to the thought, each and every night he was away. Never could get enough.

It all leads back to this.

His arm bands around your stomach. Still nudged flush, as he eases you both onto your sides.

He’ll eat, later. Fingers drifting, as they dip. Not ready to go again just yet - he’s slowed, in his old years.

But his fingers can still fit against you. Swirling against slick skin as you moan, until he can feel you clenching down around him again.

Drifting off after, with his cock still buried deep. With his cheek cradled against the top of your head, an arm slung across to keep you close.

Never had enjoyed sleeping. A means to an end, everything he pushes down loosening - flashing vividly behind closed eyes.

Not until you. Not until this.

The nightmares going hazy, then quiet, when he wrapped in you the way exhaustion curls around him. A day, finally ending.

Hoping that if he dreams, it will be of you.

Just can’t get enough.

Even now, still using you.

thank you so much for reading!! 💖

[ink-n-shadow]

Thinkin’ about Price, who’s on med leave and under strict orders not to engage in any strenuous activity, begging his controversially young wife to take pity on an old man and fuck him.

Your daughter is born nine months later. You like to joke she exists bc your husband was actually home long enough to put a baby in you.

NOW YOU GOT ME THINKIN ANON—

MEDICAL LEAVE

𝜗𝜚 the one where john's finally home long enough to get you pregnant

𝜗𝜚 pairing: john price x younger wife!reader (reader is afab) 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), age gap (price is in his late 30s, reader is late 20s), mentions of surgery/recovery, john having a pain kink (need i say more?), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it/get tapped), unedited as usual, bad ending

"john, the doctor had strict orders for you to—"

you're cut off mid-rant by john slotting his lips over yours, the mitts of his hands covering your cheeks and tugging your face closer to his. his tongue juts out to lick needily at the seam of your lips, the faint taste of the painkillers he had just taken still fresh on his tastebuds only to be replaced by the sweet mint of your toothpaste.

john would've kept kissing you, too, if he hadn't tried to twist his hips over to face you, making him pull away sharply and hiss out at the way the fresh sutures etched in his ribs twinged in pain.

"john—"

"m'fine," john grunts out hoarsely as he lays back down flat on his back, eyebrows pinched low in the middle of his forehead and tongue licking at the remnants of your spit on his lips. "just wanna—christ—wanna be inside ya."

and that’s how you got to your current position, sitting directly behind john’s thick and leaking cock as you lean back to rest your hands on his hairy muscled thighs—anywhere that wasn’t sutured closed or bruised from the surgery he’d undergone. from beneath furrowed brows, your soft eyes focused on the molten heat buoying in his pupils.

“i don’t wanna accidentally hurt you, john,” the end of your sentence comes out pinched in a whine as the calloused pad of his thumb begins circling your sopping clit, your hips jumping at the stimulation and instinctively rolling forward against his sensitive cock.

john uses the thumb petting at your clit to distract you from the way he manhandles you up, notching the head of his cock between your folds and holding you there for a moment. “i don’t fuckin’ care if it hurts, ‘lright? don’t wan’ you stoppin’ until i feel you cummin’ ‘round my cock four times, and i fill up this pretty fuckin’ pussy—understand me?”

and even though john’s cemented into your shared bed on his back, he keeps you all nice and obedient under his thumb, using the hand he keeps groping at your hip as a way to guide the way your movements. every so often, his sutures would twinge in just a way to send a jolt of pain up his spine—but then he would feel your gummy walls gripping his cock just a little tighter, and the pain would warp into delicious pleasure.

you, ever the good little wife you were, did exactly as john told you—only pulling off of him when your fluids were a messy mixture between my thighs and you could barely walk to the bathroom on wobbly legs.

it didn’t even cross your mind when a month and a half later, you’re a mess of hormones and continuous morning sickness that threatens to knock you out from work for a couple days. john tells you it’s fine, that he’ll work some more late nights to cover your income for a couple days, but you’re determined to keep working.

only after nearly fainting at your home one morning (after john fucked you through at least 2 orgasms) did you find yourself on the doctor’s examination table, fingers nearly snapping john’s hand bones in half when he read off the positive pregnancy result.

and when your daughter is born nine months later (december 14th, by the way—a sagittarius baby), you’re curled up in the hospital bed with john holding you closely, the baby sandwiched comfortably between you two and grappling at one of his thick fingers.

“y’know how long i’ve been waiting for this?” you giggle out softly as you nose against john’s beared jaw, eyes fluttering closed and system overflowing with painkillers and endorphins. “guess you were finally home long enough to actually put a baby in me this time.”

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

[the-thing-inside-your-closet]

Who Started The Fire?

From the prompts list:

“That’s my emotional support entity of questionable moral standing.”

Batman stared down the two teens standing before him. The boy was pointedly looking anywhere but the Bat’s face, finding more interest in the dirt and gravel crunching under his shoes. Meanwhile, the girl stood with her arms crossed, head held high, meeting Batman’s gaze with a defiant glare that wouldn’t be out of place on any of his own children’s faces.

Behind them lay the smoking remains of what was once a warehouse that had been used as a front for a weapons smuggling operation that the bats had collectively spent the past few weeks investigating. Although their investigation had taken longer than anticipated thanks to this group’s rather impressive security, they had been so close to a breakthrough…when the place had gone up in an inferno.

When the Gotham vigilantes had first arrived on the scene the fire had been so intense that they’d had to put in their gas masks to avoid any inhaling any of the thick black smoke from not only the fire, but also whatever chemicals may have potentially been within the building that would have been released into the air.

Batman’s initial hypothesis had been that the group had become aware of their investigation and burned the place to avoid any evidence being discovered while they moved locations. However, that theory had been shelved when Red Hood had announced the presence of charred bodies amongst the rubble, and evidence of explosives having been used in multiple area where the building’s structure had been the weakest. Whoever had been inside had not had any warning of the blaze that had swallowed the building too fast for them to get to safety, and with the structure being compromised from the explosions all exists had been blocked, preventing the inhabitant’s escape. Red Hood and Nightwing had been discussing potential suspects as Batman and Red Robin searched for any evidence that could have survived the destruction, when a clattering sound followed by the sound of voices hushing each other had altered all of the on scene bats to the presence of possibly several unknowns.

The two teens had been apprehended quickly and ushered to the side, far enough away from the scene of the fire to avoid them overhearing details of the investigation and to prevent any potential tampering. Accidental or otherwise. The teens had been stubborn in their refusal to answer any of the bat’s questions to their presence. Nobody knew why they were there, where they had come from, and they had even refused to disclose their names. Oracle, unfortunately, was sick with the flu and had been gently ordered to rest by Agent A. Batman was nevertheless confident that they would be able to discover their identities quickly either once they had returned to the cave or if they could get the kids to talk.

He would have asked Red Hood to speak with the teens, he was the best with kids. And if caught up in anything illegal they often seemed to respond better to him due to his more ambiguous morals and reputation for ensuring kid’s safety. Both from rouges and in some cases, the rest of the bats and birds. But he had been needed in Crime Ally after he had been alerted to a gunfight breaking out between two gangs who had been more hostile and antagonistic in recent months. Nightwing had accompanied him, and Spoiler had diverted from her patrol route to assist. That left Batman and Red Robin behind to deal with both the police and the frustratingly stubborn teens.

Batman resisted the urge to punch the bridge of his nose as yet another question was blatantly ignored by both kids. The boy had begun fiddling with the sleeved of his letterman jacket and the girl had taken to checking her manicured nails for any dirt or imperfections.

Just as he was about to turn the questioning over to one of the on scene police officers, a writhing mass of shadow had emerged from the girl’s shadow. Two tendrils of black smoke reached out to wrap themselves around the wrists and hands of both teens, who had in turn glanced down at their hands and smiled.

“We’re fine,” the boy had muttered quietly, “no need to worry.”

“What is that?” Batman asked, eyeing the mass with a cautious suspicion. He wanted to believe it wasn’t hostile given the kids reactions to it. But this was Gotham.

The girl shot him another glare, one hand on her hip while the other remained in the hold of whatever the shadowy mass was.

“That sir,” she spat out the first word with such venom to her tone that Batman almost flinched, “is our emotional support entity of questionable moral standing.”