#because if it hurts to move or use it why do do

[ourautumn86]

pls i love your work 😭 can you write an abby x reader where reader is on her period and she’s been irritated at everything and gets an attitude with abby and she puts reader in her place, like soft dom abby because she doesn’t wanna hurt you bc you’re extra sensitive on your period but she’s not gonna let you talk to her like that

bloody heaven

abby anderson x fem! reader

cw; +18 content! minors dni!, period sex!!, soft dom! abby x sub! reader, oral (r receiving) (IF YOU DON’T FW IT DON’T READ!!), fingering (r receiving), punishment, spanking, begging, slight teasing, praising, praise kink, abby being a perfect girlfriend, cum eating…

“keep counting baby.”

“five…” you whimper.

your ass was reddish below her hand, aching and on fire. a fire that warmed your bones and made you shiver, a fire that made you soak your thighs, made you impossibly wetter by how sensitive your period made you.

“you’re doing well baby. doing so well for me…” she caressed your abused skin, soothing it before another slap made your ass giggle and a moan fall from your lips.

your eyes were swelled with tears, your bottom lip swollen by your constant biting.

“six…” her touch trailed from your ass down in between your soaked thighs and onto your exposed core. you were on your middle of your period, your blood staining her fingertips. but your amazing and gorgeous girlfriend didn’t care about the mess. it was something natural. and just a little bit of blood didn’t make you less beautiful, or desirable.

“so wet for me already… this what you needed, baby? needed my attention? that why you got an attitude with me?” you nodded, making her coo. “but you know that’s not how we ask for things, do you princess.”

“i’m sorry…” you sobbed.

“i know baby, i know…” she muttered, circling your throbbing and sensitive puffy clit, making you whimper and shake on her lap. “but good girls like you know that punishments are important too, hm?” you nodded once again. “words, baby. use your pretty voice for me, come on.”

“yes. yes.” you moaned, thrashing and whining when she removed her touch from your soaked cunt.

“just four more, okay? just four more for me, baby.” she went back to your ass, giving you a little caress before her hand was raising and giving you a harsh slap. you let out a small whine, your nails digging on the sheets. “now, keep counting for me.” she softly said.

“seven.” another slap. “eight…” you whimpered out in a sob.

“two more baby. two more and i’ll take good care of this pretty pussy of yours, hm?” she promised. and you sighed, your ass rising against your touch. her eyebrows rose. “don’t tell me you’re enjoying this, angel.” your cheeks blushed, and she chuckled. “is this making my pretty girl wet, hm?” you nodded.

“please…” you begged, and she cursed.

“fuck it.” you squealed when abby suddenly and easily manhandled you so you’d be resting on your fours, your chest against the sheets as your ass stood up in the air, your soaked and throbbing pussy showing for her hungry eyes.

“abby!” you screamed her name when her mouth found you, her strong and warm hands spreading your ass checks as her tongue made a fat long strip from your clit to your hole, humming, never minding the metallic taste of your blood. you were not bleeding much, but it was still enough to make a mess of her lips and chin. “abby don’t!! i’m-!”

“you’re what?” she asked, licking at your clit and making you shudder. “you think a little bit of blood is gonna keep me away from this pussy? no fucking way.” your eyes rolled back when she sucked on that little bundle of nerves, making you whimper as you held on tight to the sheets, moaning when her palm came down onto your ass, making your hips thrust back against her touch and mouth. “so needy…” she groaned, kissing at your folds, licking up and down, moving her face side to side… she was devouring you, driving you insane.

“abby…” you whimpered her name as one of her fingers plunged inside of you, the squelching of your warm walls taking it making you flush.

her hungry eyes took in the way your gaping hole swallowed her in. “thaaat’s it. taking it so good for me, baby. such a good girl for me.” your back arched as another smack came down onto your ass, her mouth back at your clit as she started to thrust in and out of you, her finger stained in your pre cum and blood.

you whimpered, fucking yourself against it, gasping in pleasure when she pushed a second in. “i’m- i’m not gonna last. feels ‘s good…” you slurred, babbling, completely lost in your pleasure as abby fucked you dumb on her fingers and tongue.

“so sensitive…” she hummed. “bet it feels so good to get fucked like this, doesn’t it?” she thrusted harder, deeper, making you scream. “want you to cum for me, pretty girl. want you to make a mess out of my face.�� she muttered against your pussy, flicking your clit with her tongue.

“yes, yes… im going to, im cumming! fuckfuckfuck!!” you cried out, feeling the band on your lower stomach snap, your orgasm hitting you so hard your whole world went quiet for a second. abby moaned against you when the tangy and creamy cum hit her tongue and filled her mouth, slurping up every last drop that dripped from your hole down your folds as she shallowly fucked you through it, overstimulating you to the point in which you had to push on her head so she would get away from your cunt.

you hissed at the feeling of her fingers pulling out and the last lick she made up your folds, slurping all your juices with a pleased hum. you kept your back arched, completely boneless as you tried to pace your breath. abby smiled, taking you in and slowly pulling you into her arms, staring at your dazed and pleased expression. “feeling better?” she asked, and you nodded, before you took in the sticky and bloody mess you’d made out of her cheeks, chin and mouth.

“abby… look at you.” you pouted, your hands cracking her pretty bloody face. the red only made her blue beautiful eyes shine more. she hummed, leaving a soft peck on your lips to take away that pout.

“anything for my baby.”

-

a/n; ty for your support angel <3

#abby anderson tlou #abby x reader smut #abby fanfiction #abby tlou2 #abby the last of us #abby tlou #tlou abby #abby x you #abby smut #abby x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x fem! reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson the last of us #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fic #abby anderson tlou2 #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou imagine #tlou smut #tlou fluff #tlou2 #tlou x reader

[hellcat8908]

Come Home Poly Batboys x Female Reader

Note: This is part 2 of Let Her Go

Warnings: Language

Over the last few weeks, the letters from Azriel and Cassian had piled up in a basket by the door. They sat unopened and ignored as you gave yourself the time to process the events of that night. It was no surprise that Azriel had learned where you were living, not that you were trying to hide anyway. The gossip around you and your mates had only worsened since you left. You first tried therapy, but they only seemed to be interested in details about your mates and not what you needed to work through, so you quickly gave up. Instead, you turned to journaling as a way to get your emotions and thoughts out and somewhat organized.

You currently sat in your favorite chair with your journal in your lap as you wrote out your feelings for the day. A series of harsh knocks disrupted you, causing you to leave your journal on the end table. You were surprised to see Rhys standing at your doorstep. You're tempted to slam the door in his face, but think better of it. "What are you doing here?" You ask cautiously. "I want to talk to you." He says, his voice sounding rough. "We have nothing to talk about." You answer. "I think we both know that's not true. Please, y/n." He says with a certain sadness.

"You said everything you needed to say that night. You made it clear where I stand with you." You say as his words come flooding back to your mind. You move to shut the door, but he stops it with his foot. "Please, I'm only asking for a few minutes of your time and for you to listen." He says pleadingly. Your anger rises at his words. "Only asking for a few minutes of my time and for me to listen?! No, you're asking for so much more than that. You're asking for me to relive the worst night of my life. You're asking me to let you in and open wounds that's that haven't had a proper chance to heal because I'm drowning in it. I have no one to talk to while the three of you have each other. So, no, you're not only asking for my time and for me to listen!"

He at least has the decency to look apologetic. "I'm sorry. I didn't think-" he starts to say, but you interrupt him. "That's the problem, you don't think, especially when it comes to me. You only think about yourself and your court. You're an amazing high lord but a terrible mate." You say as you let the anger take over. "I think it's best if you leave." You tell him. "I'm sorry." He says brokenly as he turns away. Once the door shuts behind you, you crumple to the floor, allowing the pain and anger to consume you as you fall apart. You let all the hurt and anger flood the bond so they might finally realize what they've put you through.

You manage to force yourself out of bed two days later. You make breakfast before grabbing the paper from the doorstep. Your eyes widen at the headline. You throw on some clothes and quickly braid your hair before making your way into Velaris. You don't bother knocking and let yourself in. You practically run to Rhys's office where you find him along with Cassian and Azriel. They stare at you in surprise. "What do you think you're doing?!" You demand as you focus your attention on Rhys. "What needed to be done." He says. "No! You stepping down as high lord is the worst thing you could do for this court!" You respond angrily.

"But the best thing I could do for us! You're tired of coming second to my court. Well, this is the solution." He replies. "It's not the solution! It's you overreacting!" You shout. "You're not stepping down as high lord! If you do, I will disappear without a trace, and you will never see me again!" You shout. "There is just no winning with you. Is there?! No matter what I do, it isn't right!" Rhys shouts. "Why does everything have to be so black and white with you?! All I wanted was for you to respect my feelings and stop treating me as anything less than your mate!" You shout before you feel the warmth of Cassian's arm as he pulls you from the room while Azriel stops Rhys from following.

Cassian carries you to the bedroom and blocks the door before sitting you down. "What the hell, Cass?!" You ask. "You tell me!" He says as he crosses his arms. "What is it going to take for you to forgive us?!" He asks angrily as he runs his fingers through his hair. He doesn't give you a chance to answer, "Those months of silence you're punishing us for are bullshit. You didn't speak up either. You never once addressed it with us or the ones gossiping. We just assumed you were ignoring it like the rest of us. You share just as much blame in this as we do." He says before storming out, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You sit on the oversized bed you all once shared. You run your fingers over the comforter. You curl up in the bed and allow a few tears to escape. You hold the pillow that smells of Azriel as you find comfort in it. You think about what Cassian said as you lay in silence. You zone out until a knock pulls you back to reality. Azriel opens the door, "is it ok if I come in?" He asks. He takes your silence as a yes and sits on the bed beside you. "Did you come to yell at me too?" You ask. "No, I brought you some tea and a muffin from your favorite bakery." He says.

"How did everything get so bad?" You ask, ignoring his offer. "A lot of things went left unsaid from all of us until it spiraled into something toxic." He says honestly. "Think we can ever get back to the way it was?" You ask. "Do you want to?" He questions in response. "I want it to be better." You answer honestly, "but I'm worried we won't be able to move past this." His shadows gently play with your hair, causing you to visibly relax. "All we can do is try." He says softly. "They hate me so much, though." You say as you choke back a sob. He wraps his arms around you, "Nobody hates you, princess. We all just need to calm down and discuss what needs to change moving forward." He says, always being the voice of reason to you.

#acotar #batboys #acotar fanfic #cassian x reader #cassian acotar #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #rhysand acotar #rhysand x reader #poly batboys #acotar angst

[ladykailitha]

Paper Hearts Part 1

Remember how my posting schedule was going to be based on strictly vibes from now on? Yeah this is why. I have three chapters of this completed and only two of most everything else because I hurt my right wrist on Wednesday evening (I think I overextended my elbow and it fucked up the tendons in my wrist, because I've done that before on my arm and it feels like that).

So instead of getting more work done on stuff that is literally paragraphs away from the end of the chapter I'm having to tap into my backlog. Which is what it's for. But it is annoying.

I am also aware it's nearly May, but my muse was never one for sense.

Summary: Hawkins High is selling paper hearts to help raise for senior prom. $3 for red romantic hearts and $1 for pink friendship hearts. Steve hasn't dated anyone since the horrific breakup with Nancy on Halloween and so he decides that he's going to send pink hearts to senior girls who wouldn't normally get any hearts at all. When Eddie hears about this he can't help be intrigued. It goes against his very well curated Munson Doctrine. But as events keep throwing them together, Eddie learns there is more to King Steve then meets the eye.

Also a note: the use of the other's last name when it's their point of view is deliberate. As they get to know each other more, the more first names get used.

****

Steve was staring at the huge sign with a sense of dread. In big pink and white letters on a red background screamed the words:

PAPER HEARTS FOR YOUR VALENTINE $1 FOR PINK FRIENDSHIP HEARTS $3 FOR RED ROMANTIC HEARTS ALL PROCEEDS GO TO CLASS OF 1985 SENIOR BALL

Valentine’s Day. That time of year for lovers and romantics. That used to be him. But not since Nancy broke his heart by breaking up with him for Jonathan Byers.

There would be no paper hearts in locker this year. Not even pink ones. Nancy had well and truly blown up his life and she got to walk away scott free.

He didn’t know what to do anymore. He pinched his nosed and rubbed the end. He wasn’t going to cry in the middle of the fucking main hall of Hawkins High.

Just before he was about to start moving again someone shoulder checked him, sending back to the floor and all his stuff sprawling around it like some fucked flower.

“Watch it, Harrington!” the voice growled as whoever it was sped off down the hall.

Steve didn’t even bother looking to see who it was. It could have been anyone these days. His former friends. Billy and his ilk. Hell, even the nerds and geeks got in on the action lately.

He knelt down to start cleaning it up when someone else kicked his books toward the lockers. He managed to get most of it picked up when he reached for the last notebook. Someone stepped on his hand and ground down, hurting Steve and ripping the cover off the notebook, crinkling the first couple of pages.

He shoved it into his bag and cradled his hand to his chest. He looked at his watch and sighed. Lunch was nearly over and he hadn’t even made it to the cafeteria yet.

There was nothing for it, he had to get to his next class. He walked into the class room just as the bell rang, but instead of heading for his usual spot near the front he made for the back of the class. There were always a few empty seats around Munson. The guy was terrifying on a good day.

And Steve hoped it was a good day.

****

Eddie made to class on time by the skin of his teeth. He slid through door just as the bell rang above his head. He was about to lope over to his usual spot in the back when he stopped dead in his tracks.

He looked up at the front at the deliberately left open seat and back at the seat next to his with a raised eyebrow. He wisely said nothing as he flopped into the torture device known as the chesk. Dair? Whatever the hell it was called where some unspeakable horror thought to combine a desk and a chair.

Eddie glanced sidelong at his new companion. The recently deposed king of Hawkins High sat slumped in his chesk, head down, just staring at its surface as if held the meaning to life the universe and everything.

Which if Harrington asked him, he would have been told forty-two.

He pulled out his notebook and noticed that Harrington did not do the same. Curiouser and curiouser. He pulled out a pencil and settled in to avoid falling to sleep today.

He was taking notes and doing the assignment like he was supposed to when about half way through class the teacher called out to him.

“Mr. Harrington!” she shrieked. “If you are going to be sitting in the back, please have the decency to pay attention in class!”

A couple of kids snickered.

“You were talking about how the Fool is used to lighten the absolutely horrific scene above him of Lady Macbeth as she tries to get blood out of her gown,” he muttered, scratching his cheek with his left hand.

That was when the teacher and Eddie noticed the same thing at the same time.

Harrington was cradling his right hand to his chest.

“Mr. Harrington is there something wrong with your right hand?”

“I accidentally hurt it during lunch,” he said with wince.

The teacher tapped her foot and crossed her arms. “And why didn’t you see the nurse?”

“It happened right before class,” Harrington muttered, “and I didn’t want to be late.”

The teacher huffed and shook her head. “I will give you note for your next teacher, but you will see the nurse after class, am I understood?”

He nodded.

“Mr. Munson,” she cried out, shrill. “If you’ll share your notes with Mr. Harrington after class so he does not fall behind.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He continued to keep an eye on Harrington throughout the whole class but whenever their English teacher tried to catch him out, she would fail every time.

When the bell rang Eddie started shoving his stuff into his backpack. “You sure you even need my notes, Harrington? That was pretty impressive shit you pulled out of your ass today.”

Harrington just shrugged. “Just because I was paying attention doesn’t mean it won’t bleed out of my ears with all the algebra and chemistry stuff I have later.”

Eddie winced in sympathy. “Yeah, I hear that. What’s your locker number and I’ll just slip a copy of my notes in the slots.”

“323B.”

“They got you on a lower locker?” he asked with a grimace. “That’s jacked up. Even Mr. Super Senior here got a top locker. Does the secretary hate you or some shit?”

Again Harrington shrugged. “I’ve got to go. I’ll catch you later.”

Eddie folded his arms at looked at him. “You’re not going to the nurse’s station, are you?”

This time it was Harrington who winced.

“That’s what I thought,” he huffed. “I’m walking you to said nurse’s station because it could be broken and if you don’t get that looked at, you’ll be in more than just a world of hurt, man. You could fuck up your hand for life and you wouldn’t be able to anything in that hand ever again.”

Steve’s eyes went wide as all color drained from his face.

“Shit.”

Eddie grabbed both of their backpacks and headed for the door. “Yeah, shit.”

Harrington hurried to catch up, hand still cradled to his chest.

“How did you know that could happen to my hand?” he asked softly.

Eddie eyed him sidelong, but the kid wasn’t being an ass. In fact he would say Harrington was being earnest.

“My uncle works at the machinist plant up the road,” Eddie explained. “One of his buddies broke his hand on the machine and refused to get it looked at. Guess how well that worked?”

“Was it the plant’s fault?” Harrington asked. Eddie cocked his head to the side. “That you uncle’s friend got hurt?”

Eddie reared his head back in shock that Harrington would even ask.

“No, man,” he said shaking his head. “He was goofing off, being a dick. Uncle Wayne always said that if you knock on every door asking for the devil, one day he’s gonna answer.”

“What happens when the devil comes looking for you?” Harrington muttered to himself and Eddie couldn’t help but wonder what this kid had seen.

Because he knows haunted. And Harrington looks like he has an attic full of ghosts.

Once they got to the nurse’s station Eddie waited for him. When the other boy came out he asked how it went.

“She says it doesn’t feel broken,” he huffed. “But that if it doesn’t improve over the weekend after icing at least three times a day, to come back on Monday and she’ll order an x-ray.”

Eddie nodded. “Right. See you around, Harrington.”

He had barely turned around when Harrington called out to him. “Wait!”

Eddie turned back around to have a piece of paper shoved into his hand. “I got the nurse to excuse us both.”

And before he could even reply the other boy was tearing off down the hall as if the devil himself was chasing him.

And after that comment he’d heard, Eddie couldn’t be sure he wasn’t.

****

Steve was curled up on his bed, icing his hand, staring up at the ceiling, and wondering where the fuck his life had gone so wrong.

Okay so he could answer that one, actually. Demogorgon ate his girlfriend’s best friend while in his backyard. While him and said girlfriend were having sex for the first time.

Yeah... that was all kinds of fucked up.

He still couldn’t believe that Nancy sided with Jonathan about him taking pictures of their first time.

So now Valentine’s Day was two week away and he was dateless, friendless, and unpopular. He wished he could just be called a loner. But a loner was cool and Steve wasn’t even that anymore.

He just had to make until the end of may and then he could graduate, leaving this town in his rearview mirror for good.

Steve knew that he would have to struggle through this fucking holiday and Senior prom then it would be smooth sailing from there.

He had all this money that he would normally spend on his girlfriends, but now he didn’t even have that. He supposed he could blow it all on beer and weed and then he could enjoy the weekend for a change.

Steve sat up suddenly, the ice pack falling from his hand to hit the floor with sploosh!

Now that was an idea.

He still had one thing in the school that was nonpareil and that was gossip. In fact, it was easier to hear all the dirty little secrets because no one cared if he was standing there.

A smile spread over his face.

That could actually work. It would be a great way to spend his allowance and it would be fun.

He got up and put the ice pack back in the freezer. He couldn’t do anything about it right then but once his hand was better he would formulate his little plan.

Steve was suddenly excited for the first time since he dropped Dustin off at the middle school’s Snow Ball.

He was going to make this holiday fun even if he had to manufacture the fun himself.

****

Eddie was pissed. A little at himself, but mostly at how Harrington was being treated.

He had to sit through lunch and listen a bunch of stupid jocks brag about stomping on Harrington’s hand when he was trying to pick up his stuff off the floor in the hallway yesterday.

They had been hoping for an actual break, but the asshole thought he’d only bruised it.

The reason Eddie was a little mad at himself for this was because he was the one that had shoulder checked Harrington. He had only been trying to get the guy out of his daze. Not send his shit flying.

And then to have someone deliberately stepping on his hand. Fuck. Not even Hagan ever went that far.

Stev–Harrington didn’t deserve that kind of bullying. No one did.

But he could see the twisted sort of appeal, though. And fuck if that didn’t make his stomach turn.

To see the deposed king and want to mock that? Want to dig the hurt in as deep as he could? To drive home the lesson that popularity was fleeting and that existence was a curse?

Yeah, Eddie could see the appeal.

But he wouldn’t. He might make fun of literally everyone and everything but his own interests, but to make turn that into actual cruelty? That was were he drew the line in the sand.

He went home feeling sick to his stomach. And of course Wayne picked up on it immediately.

He jutted his chin at the chicken and rice on Eddie plate that he had only merely pushed around with his fork.

“What’s got you so twisted around the bend?”

Eddie put his fork down and hid his mouth with his clasped hands, elbows on the table.

“I fucked up today,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean for it to go as it did.”

“What did you do?”

So Eddie told him. “I wasn’t trying to hurt him, but he got hurt anyway.”

“That does sound pretty bad,” Wayne agreed. “And as you say, you were trying to help only for it to go very awry. And since you didn’t about it until after the fact you couldn’t apologize and that’s what’s eating you up inside.”

Eddie nodded around his fists, his lower lip quivering.

“You’ll just have to find a way to apologize on Monday,” Wayne said wisely.

Eddie sighed. It was the best he could do. It wasn’t as though he could call the guy up or show up at his house. The first because he didn’t have the guy’s number and the second because he’d get the cops called on him so fast by the neighbors.

It would just have to wait until Monday.

****

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#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes

[emeraldspiral]

So another interesting thing about Jane Eyre is it's take on relationship inequality.

Like, Jane is 18 at the beginning of the story and Rochester is said to be something like 35-38. And it's not casually brushed aside like that was normal back in the day. It wasn't. Concerns about the age gap are raised within the text. But the story emphasizes that Jane feels comfortable accepting Rochester's proposal, despite the age difference, the class difference, and him being her boss, because Jane feels that Rochester regards her as an equal. When they converse, Jane doesn't feel any tension, like she has to impress him or try to read his mind and say whatever he wants to hear. She feels that he respects her and values her thoughts and isn't compelled to use his power against her if she says something to displease him. Around the midpoint of the story, Jane believes that Rochester is going to marry another woman, and resolves to leave because she's heartbroken, believing that because she is poor and plain Rochester can't possibly be as hurt by their parting as she is, and he'll forget her and move on long before she does. But it turns out to be the opposite. After finding out about Bertha, Rochester begs Jane to stay and insists he'll be miserable forever without her, while Jane, still thinking she's too poor and plain to ever attract someone like him again, resists all temptation and leaves him. And she does this specifically because she feels that if she were to compromise her morals and self-respect to be Mr. Rochester's mistress, then he would lose respect for her and the relationship would fall apart. It was only by maintaining her integrity that the relationship could stay in-tact when the reconciled at the end.

St. John Rivers on the other hand, I don't think is given a definite age, but I think he's intended to be a much younger man, probably in his early 20s. He is poor and without relations aside from his sisters or any other connections, just as Jane. Jane finds out they're actually cousins at the same time she learns she's come into a vast fortune that was willed to her rather than the Rivers, but decides to share her fortune equally with them. So she arguably had more social capital, even though she made an effort to put St. John on equal footing with her, because the money was hers by right and she could've presumably cut him off at any time, just as easily as Rochester could've terminated Jane from her job.

And yet, Jane's relationship with St. John is vastly more unequal than her relationship with Rochester. Even though Jane practically worshiped Rochester but only cares for St. John as a brother and is acutely aware of his faults, she still finds herself desperately craving his approval in a way she never did with Rochester. And St. John is willing to exploit that intentionally. He asks her to do things she doesn't want to and make sacrifices for him just because he knows she'll do anything to please him, and that's why he thinks she's the perfect wife for him. Where Rochester tries to explain himself and persuade Jane not to leave him by addressing her concerns, St. John basically tries to command Jane to marry him and refuses to accept her "no" as final. He withholds affection from Jane as a tactic to get her to compromise in order to reconcile with him when he's the one who should be apologizing to her and considering her needs and not just his own. Jane knows that she can't ever be happy with him because he doesn't respect her and his lack of respect only makes her want to seek his approval, which he is all too happy to exploit for his own benefit.

But Jane ultimately stays firm and rejects St. John's proposal of a loveless marriage, just as she rejected Rochester's proposal of an unlawful marriage, because both situations were doomed to fail if she didn't put her own self-respect first.

So this novel from 1847 was really saying that power dynamics aren't pure black and white. Age and class and wealth and status can be a factor in making a relationship unequal, but you can also be equal on pretty much all social axis and still have inequality in a relationship. What's really important is that there's mutual respect.

#jane eyre

[nightsmarish]

Hello luv <3 could you possibly write a prongsfoot or wolfstar x reader and they take her to get a new piercing?? maybe they accidentally keep hitting or helping her clean it and stuff :)))

Poly!prongsfoot x fem!reader (James Potter x fem!reader x Sirius black) | 900+ words

A/n: first of all: omg, my first rq, very very happy, thank you so much babes <3. Second: I am on a piercing ban rn and I am dying for the ban to break so this made me sooooo jealous

T/w: reader is suggested to have multiple ear peircings, needles, still learning to write James, Sirius works in a bar

★⋆｡°⋆𖦹✮₊★⋆｡°⋆𖦹✮₊★⋆｡°⋆𖦹✮₊★⋆｡

"What if this is a bad idea?" You haven't even gotten out of the car and into the building when you start second guessing yourself.

"Love, you've wanted this for a while, I thought?" James is getting out of the backseat and opening your door on the passenger side.

"I do, but it's my first face peircing, what if it looks bad?" James kneels next to your seat in the car while you fiddle with your hands, eyes focused on them, rather than the worry on James' face that will undoubtedly make you melt.

"Doll, you're gonna look hot as fuck, I promise you that much." Sirius turns in the driver's seat to face you, left hand moving to the back of your head, stroking the nape of your neck. "And either way, if you get it and, after a few months, hate it, you can take it out."

You all sit there for a moment before you stop fidgeting and look between the two boys. "Sorry, I don't know why I'm freaking out now, ive been planning this for weeks now." You laugh, trying to ease the tension that's accidently set.

"It's okay, love." James gently grabs your face, turning you to face him and kissing you softly. "You still wanna get it?"

"Yeah, I do."

ᯓ★

You all manage to get through the door of the peircing shop.

You sit in the chair, Sirius holding your hand and James looking away because needles freak him out, but he was adamant he would be a form of moral support.

The piercer uses the forcep clamp and you're pretty sure the needle is in their other hand, but you've had your eyes closed for a while now. And honestly, based off the videos you watched, it's probably for the best you don't see the needle.

"Okay, breath in through your mouth." Their voice is soothing as you take in a breath, albeit a little shaky.

"And a deep breath out..." your hand forms a death grip on Sirius' hand as the needle punctures your nose.

"Good job. I'm going to put the jewelry in now; one more deep breath in." Your hand keeps its hold on Sirius, "and out." The jewelry swiftly replaces the needle. "Okay, and you're done."

While paying and leaving, your hand never leaves the boy until you reach the car.

"Let me see." James once again gently grabs your face once the three of you are near the car. "Dear Merlin, that looks amazing."

"Yes it does, and you took it like a bloody champ, doll." The other boy adds.

"Yeah? It looks good?"

"Obviously." He overlaps one of James hand and leans in to kiss you.

"Wait- no- no kisses right now." Both boys drop their hands from your face.

"Are you okay?" James brows are furrowed in concern.

"I'm- I'm just scared you'll hit it and it will hurt."

The paler of the two laughs a bit but looks at you so fondly you could melt into a puddle like the wicked witch of the west. "Fine- fine then. No kisses. For now."

ᯓ★

You're sitting on the couch when James gets home a few days later, book open as you read.

James toes off his shoes and walks behind the couch, tilting your chin to lean down and kiss you.

You instinctively let him, used to the little routine the three of you have. But dear fuck, you didn't consider how much it would hurt for his nose to hit your very sore one during a kiss.

"Fucking-" You pull back, hand going to your nose to shield it as if some invisible source is gonna sucker punch you.

"Shit- sorry, love, I didn't even think about your new piercing." James rounds the couch to sit next to you, putting your book fave down on the coffee table to keep your place.

"It's okay, Jamie, really." You move your hand away and rake your nails through his hair.

"'M sorry anyway." He leans in again, this time kissing your hairline instead of your cheek.

Sirius had been up in the bedroom, having a night shift at the bar he worked at, so he was sleeping most of the day. But his shift starts in an hour, and he wants to at *least* see you two before he has to see drunk people for 8 hours.

Padding down the staircase in your townhouse, Sirius sees you and James on the couch, you with tears lining your eyes.

"Bloody Merlin, baby, don't try and kill the girl, prongs." Sirius jokes as he makes his way to the couch as well.

"I didn't do anything!" James whips his head around to Sirius, who cuts him off with a kiss before he can continue to defend himself any further.

"He kissed me and it hurt like a bitch." Your voice is slightly whinny, desperately wanting your shorter boyfrienda attention.

"Oh, my poor girl, James is hurting you with his love again?" Sirius coos as he sits between you two, but it's more like on both your laps, grabbing the sides of your face to place a soft kiss on your forehead.

"I said sorry!" He attempts to defend himself again, "I didn't mean to."

"Sounds like it was an accident, huh, doll?" Sirius speaks in-between kisses on your face.

"Seems so." You murmur.

"Either way, seems only James can properly kiss me now." He grins at you before grabbing James' face, more aggressively than needed, and smashing their lips together.

#poly!prongsfoot #poly!prongsfoot oneshot #poly!prongsfoot x y/n #poly!prongsfoot x you #poly!prongsfoot x reader #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #sirius black x james potter #james potter imagine #james potter oneshot #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter x sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #sirius black oneshot #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black x fem!reader #marauders era fic #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #marauders #james potter #Sirius black #poly!prongsfoot imagine #Sirius black fluff #sirius black

[hawkinsquarry]

all things must pass (steve x reader)

summary: steve makes you leave him at the end of the world.

contains: steve x reader; gender unspecified reader; no pronouns used for reader; post-st4; unresolved angst; probably too much swearing :/

i miss this guy and i’m feeling insane over him so have some angst with an ambiguous ending 🫶🏻

Steve’s feet feel particularly heavy when we steps across your foyer. And the packet he has in his hands feels even heavier. He brushes off a few specs of ashes before slamming them down on the table in front of you, lazily eating cereal.

“What the hell is this?” you ask after a moment, grabbing the ledger on top. You know immediately it’s an airline ticket. It makes you feel sick and you push your Cheerios away as your eyes scan the details.

FROM-TO

IND > LA

You want to fucking kill him but you don’t have a chance as he breezes past, grabbing your suitcase out of your walk in closet.

“You depart in twelve hours,” he starts. He recited it in his head the entire way over to make the conversation easier, but the words are hard to get out. “Only take your essentials. When you’re there, a chauffeur will pick you up and take you to the - the - the location.”

“Steve, I’m not fucking going -“

“Yes, you are.” He says sternly. Like you’re a child.

“I’m not going anywhere without you!”

And he know this was coming - this cyclical argument you’ve been having for the last three weeks, your tears, the lump in his throat, uncertainly fogging both of your vision. But it doesn’t make it any easier, any less frustrating.

He says your name low and quiet. A plea. “This is safe. This is where the - the - the people I know told me to send you. That it’s the safest place.”

“And we’re trusting those people now?”

“No. W-well, yes! It - it’s - just - trust me, not them. Okay?” He settles your suitcase on the couch and starts moving around your living room for things he knows you’ll need. A blanket. Medicine. “Anywhere away from here is better, anyway.”

“So you admit it isn’t safe?”

Steve sniffles. “I never said it was.”

You follow him to your bedroom where he begins ripping clothes from your closet. He doesn’t miss the hoodie he leant you a few months ago. It’s laid on top of your suitcase with more shirts and pants.

You grab his arm and try to force it to fall back to his side, but he’s too strong, god damn him. “Steve, quit!” you beg, digging your heels into the ground and tugging on him. “I’m not leaving, Steve. I’m not going unless you go with me.”

“We talked about this.”

As nauseam, in fact. Until the ache in Steve’s throat was excruciating. Until your voice was hoarse and you were heaving. He’s not leaving, and you are.

You tug on him again. “I’ll keep talking about it until you listen to me!”

He doesn’t say anything. Just keeps moving back and forth between your closet and the suitcase. You cry, as hard as you try not to. You really are like a petulant child, stomping your foot, throwing a tantrum. You feel like it’s the only way he’ll listen, but you know the reality is that he still won’t.

“What about me?” you cry. You’re so angry at him, want to say something that’ll make him hurt. That’ll change the expression on his stoic face. You find it in you to refrain. “What about us, Steve?”

Keeps packing. Head down. Jaw clenched tight. He was ready for this fight when he walked in.

“Steve, let the goddamn military handle it. Do - do you honestly think you’re going to save the world?”

“No,” he snaps.

“Then what?”

He doesn’t answer because you already know why. Because he can’t leave Dustin, and Dustin can’t leave El, because apparently she can save the world. And Robin won’t leave Steve who won’t leave Dustin who won’t leave El. And Nancy fucking Wheeler won’t leave Mike who won’t leave El.

It makes you feel insane. Your blood boils and spills over, and over, and over, and it never just depletes. You keep going, keep arguing, trying to talk him out of it until your voice is hoarse. It’s hoarse now, in fact. Last night Steve held you until you shut up, until you cried yourself to sleep, and you had no idea he had already got you a plane ticket out of here. You feel so betrayed it makes your stomach twist and chest ache.

“I can’t live without you,” you try. It’s the third time you’ve pulled this and it seems to get him the most. “Steve, I don’t know what I’d do if - if….”

Steve bites his cheek, stilling, his hands clutching one of your sweaters.

“Why don’t you care?” you push.

He sniffles again, pinches his nose. You’d prefer it if he’d just let himself cry. He’d give in, then, if he let his emotions take over.

“Don’t you love me?”

“Jesus, yes,” he grits, finally looking at you. His eyes are red. “Why do you think I’m makin’ you leave, huh? Why do you think I’m staying?”

“Because you think you’re something you’re not!”

He runs a big hand through his hair so harshly you fear it’ll get tugged out. He walks towards you, holding his arms out, murmuring, “honey,” and as much as it pains you, you back away.

“Don’t,” you say sharply. Your throat aches. “Don’t do that, Steve.”

“I love you.” He sounds exhausted. “I love you, please believe me.”

“If you love me, then come with me.”

“There won’t be a world for us to live in unless we stop this.”

“You aren’t going to save the world.” You’re so desperate for him to listen to you. “The chances are so slim, Steve. Why can’t we love each other while we have time?”

Steve takes a shaky breath. “I won’t let you die without doing something about it first.”

You stare at each other. It’s suddenly dawning on you that nothing you’ll do will ever change his mind. That his chances of living through the next few days are slim. That this is the last time you’ll get to see him. While he’s packing for you and forcing you to take a plane to California.

There’s nothing romantic about it. It’s not like what you’ve seen in the movies you rented from Family Video when Steve had a shift. Before he was yours. When you went because the forest green vest looked so good on him, and he always had some goofy recommendation, and he let his hands touch yours when giving you your change for a moment too long.

You’ve hardly even had him.

“So that’s it?” You can hardly hear yourself.

“I’m doing this for you. I’m doing everything for you. And - and i-if it works, I swear I’ll make it up to you. I swear, angel.”

You shake your head, hot tears making their way down your jaw. “No.”

He stills. Looks a little like a deer in headlights. Caught off guard, shocked. Mouth parting slightly before closing again, like he wants to argue but can’t.

What is there to say?

“If you make me get on that plane, Steve….” You shake your head again, swallowing the ache in your throat down.

You stare at each other again. His eyes are one of your favorite things about him. Those saccharine, chestnut and moss colored irises. They scrunch up when he laughs. You used to think about leaving Hawkins and moving somewhere nice, so far away from all of this that Steve grows up to have crows feet around his eyes. That you’d be the one who put them there. And this is the last time you’ll see them.

“You have to go,” he eventually sniffles.

“Please,” you try, for the final time.

He blinks slowly, frowning, chest rising and falling slowly. “I love you,” he whispers. “Please believe me.”

You’re not sure if you can.

#steve harrington x reader #han posts #steve x reader

[mcflymemes]

CHALLENGERS (2024) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary.

who says i want somebody to be in love with me?

i don't want to fuck you to prove a point.

fuck me because you want to.

are you gonna do it or not?

tastes even better than it looks.

i just told you i missed you.

i really want to kiss you right now, but i'm worried that if i try, you'll think i'm the worst friend in the world.

you know, it hurts me sometimes how little you believe in yourself.

decimate that little bitch.

let's be honest, you gotta feel bad for the kid.

you're not a spring chicken anymore.

dude. he's a pancake. you're gonna flatten him.

how's this feeling?

we're ready for you.

so obviously this isn't the result you wanted today.

you choked.

i don't want you to embarrass yourself.

i'm just a little rusty. it's a confidence thing.

get your fucking confidence back. i can't do it for you.

i'm so sick of you using this as an excuse to have a fucking meltdown.

you said we could watch a movie.

you're evil.

i'm gonna quiz you on it tomorrow.

sir, i don't know who you are.

i don't think we have much more to talk about.

i haven't spoken to you in five years.

i was just taking a little nap.

move, or i'm calling the cops.

you were really something back then, huh?

we always talked about how amazing it would be to win this together.

i'm a crazy person.

any predictions about how that's going to go?

can you do me a favor? can you not, like... demolish me tomorrow?

shut the fuck up.

if it matters to you so much, i can just give it to you.

i need it to look like i really beat you.

don't guilt me with your dying grandmother.

she's the hottest woman i've ever seen.

you were... fucking incredible.

baby, we've got to get going.

i'm not going to that party.

are you that threatened by me?

we can't both just go in there, dicks swinging.

i'd let her fuck me with a racket.

hey, do you smoke?

of course they will remember you.

see, that's your problem. you think you're like an artist or something.

you just want to win because you love it when people tell you how talented you are.

are you on facebook?

i told you tennis was boring.

you just got this crazy look on your face.

are you on a date?

i don't kiss and tell.

why did you want to have dinner with me?

i think you might be the worst friend in the world.

i didn't know you were so concerned about my feelings.

of course you still have a thing for her.

we just had what i'm assuming is the best sex of our lives.

i fucked your brains out?

what do you think you need? a cheerleader? a fuck buddy? a girlfriend?

you're talented, you're charming, and you've got a big dick.

excuse me for inconveniencing you.

don't expect to sleep here tonight.

stop going easy on me.

i'll be whatever you need me to be. i'll fuck off if you want me to.

i need you here, actually.

you're referring to when i declared my love for you.

you're not in love with me anymore?

i've been dreaming about this for five years.

i'm gonna propose something to you, and it's gonna make you angry. it's gonna make you very angry. but you have to hear me out, okay?

i'm finally ready to listen to you.

how dare you fucking ask me that.

do you think it's cute what you're doing? do you think it's funny?

that's the stupidest fucking thing i've ever heard.

i've always wanted you.

you didn't do anything to me. i did it all to myself.

i think i've reached the limit of my willingness to have this conversation with you.

do you understand how embarrassing it is that you're here?

you've never beaten me.

tell me it doesn't matter.

will you just hold me?

i'm not here to fuck you.

i miss watching you play. you were so beautiful.

#challengers #mcflymemes #rp prompt #rp meme #rp memes #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #rp starters #ask meme #ask memes #roleplay meme #sentence starter #sentence starters #sentence starter prompt #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #look at me making memes left and right today

[miniversse]

⭑ ”i owe you” pt.2 ⭑

╰┈➤ READ PART 1

⭑ jeongin x female reader

⭑ content includes: non-idol reader, non-idol jeongin, mentions of drinking, unprotected sex, releasing, fingering, mentions of scars and stitches, use of pet names (baby)

⭑ note: i cannot begin to describe how much i love this piece. please read part 1 for it all to make sense! ⭑ minors dni

⭑——————————————————⭑

recollections of that very night begin to flow through your mind and how everyday for weeks you stared into the dark alleyways, trying to picture his body there. immediately your eyes dart to his neck, only to find his tattoos slightly fading…

(SKZ)

your eyes dart back to his face, still questioning if it was true or not.

“i owe you.”

“j-jeongin?”

he slowly nods, a soft smile growing on his healed face.

“i don’t think i thanked you enough for that night.” he stops to look down at his shoes, kicking at the box in front of him to fill the silence, speaking again.

“what you did, it really changed me. you didn’t have to help me, even after i was a total bitch to you.”

the emotions you had five years ago the first time you locked eyes with him grew inside of you again, but in another light. first time it was sympathy and worry. but now it’s love and comfort.

“come have a drink at my place, as way of welcoming you as my new neighbor” you suggest, hoping it can soften the mood.

“you changed your paintings” he sets his shot glass slowly on the table, observing your living room.

“how do you know?” you never knew he would remember so much, and you felt embarrassed.

“i had to distract myself from the pain, it was the only thing i could admire.”

“i thought it was time for a cha-“

“other than you”

the words caught in your throat and your heart stopped beating for a moment. the way he glanced at you never left your mind, and it all made sense now. before you could react, he brings himself closer to you on the couch, resting his palm on your cheek. you were able to get a closer look of his healed scar, secretly admiring your work.

“5 years, y/n. you never left my mind for a day”

his lips clash with yours, aggressive kisses from the beginning. his tongue glides over yours, moving deeper and deeper inside of your mouth. his hand rests on your waist, sneakily pushing you closer to him. it felt like the world was timing you, your bodies frantically rushing to the bedroom, lips still locked.

his hand rides up your shirt, fiddling with your bra strap. your body tingles at his touch, bringing him closer.

“more, jeongin”

“i.n” he mumbles, breaking the kiss you thought would never end.

“I don’t want this to be a one time thing, y/n”

you couldn’t take him seriously while he glides his hands over your skin, exploring every part of your body and feeling his boner against your thigh.

“isn’t that why you moved next to me?” 

he laughs, placing his head in the nook of your neck, taking in your sweet smell. he brings his mouth closer to your ear, placing small hot kisses around it.

“you could say so”

the setting sun glorified his body over yours, stripping naked and revealing his bare self to you. there was more than you thought had happened to him. his chest had several stitches everywhere which were slowly healing.

“w-what’s this?”

he looks down, tracing every stitch and bringing his fingers down to trace them onto your bare torso.

“SKZ. i was apart of some underground group. we got into a lot of scandals and fights and deals gone wrong. we were wanted, dead or alive.”

he moves to lay down next to you, tucking strands of your hair behind your ear as you listen attentively.

“i was always the one who got the hurts, because i was always initiating the problems. that day, was my last day being in SKZ”

“what made you leave?” your questions didn’t bother him anymore, he answered you with love and passion, and it couldn’t have been better.

“you. i was a hopeless romantic, and i thought no doctor would date someone like me. so i changed for you.”

you place a peck on his cheek, laying on his chest to hear the rest.

“i wrote your address on a paper, got a stable job, got off the police’s radar and here i am. with you.”

his words made you squirm with joy and sympathy. you wanted to pay off every day of those 5 years he spent for you. you want it to be eternity with him.

“fuck, baby” he groans at the way you stretch around his dick, grabbing onto the sheets for support.

you moved up and down his thick length, moaning with every inch he put inside of you. he felt like an escape of the harsh and cruel worlds you both lived in.

“faster baby, faster” you oblige, taking him in faster and slamming your ass down on him, making him go wild. he brings his two fingers to your mouth, pushing your bottom lip open. he swirls your saliva around them and brings it down to your clit, moving in slow circular motions.

“oh my fu- i.n fuck” your breath became harder to catch at the overloaded sensory.

he bit at his lower lip, enjoying the view of your sex face, pounding body and wet clit. you couldn’t deny that he looked ten times hotter with his scars that must carry so much significance to him.

his dick jerks inside of you and his veins glide again your walls. he only rubbed you faster, moving to place his fingers inside of you too, bringing you to your orgasm. your unholy moans and sweet nothings filled the air, and your release coated his dick, lubricating his final moments before he releases too.

you fall onto the mattress beside him, panting and holding each other tight.

“baby?” you whisper to him softly.

“hm?” his foxy eyes gaze into yours, waiting to listen to you all day, all month, all year.

“i owe you”

FIN.

⭑ TAG LIST

@captainchrisstan @all4minnie @rylea08 @strayywayy @katsukis1wife @kayleefriedchicken

#stray kids #skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz stay #stray kids x reader #stray kids oneshot #bangchan #bangchan x reader #lee know #lee know x reader #changbin #changbin x reader #hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #han jisung x reader #lee felix #lee felix x reader #seungmin #seugmin x reader #jeongin #jeongin x reader #kpop #kpop oneshots #kpop smut #kpop one shot

[heavenlyvision]

replacement pairing: johnny cage/reader wc: 600 warnings: ANGST!!!!!!!, gn!reader, no use of pronouns or y/n a/n; i uhhhh, found an idea i wrote a very long time ago and thought "how fucked up would it be if johnny did this?" and then adapted it for him and rewrote some stuff :3 hehe i love you guys (please don't be mad) </3 ANGST UNDER CUT

His hands trace the curves and contours of your body slowly as you sway in the cool breeze the evening is providing. If you were to be looking from the outside in, this would look like a perfect moment between lovers and while the moment is between two lovers, to you, it feels less than perfect. His mind is elsewhere whilst yours is focused solely on him, on this moment, it hurts to know that he’s thinking about them again.

You never knew who they were, but he had mentioned sparingly that you were like them, you just didn’t know to what extent that was. Sometimes you would do something small, like laugh when you couldn’t quite line all the buttons up on your shirt correctly and he would get this sort of glazed-over look in his eyes with a small, sad smile and you would know that you had done something to remind him of them. It seemed, no matter how hard you tried… everything you did was a memory of them. To him, it was almost like you were them.

When he was with them, he loved freely, easily, limitlessly but it wasn’t enough, and they left him for someone else. He was a shell of himself… until he had met you and you sparkled, you had loved him so certainly, it came effortlessly to you, and that was one of the first times he had made the connection in his head, between the two of you. You were unapologetically yourself, just like they were, it was why he loved them, their fearlessness and ability to just be themselves in a world full of people trying to be someone else. It’s also why he loves you… because to him, you are the same.

Tonight was supposed to be about you and it had started that way. He took you to your favourite restaurant for dinner and then a blissful stroll under the night sky, where you both just talked and enjoyed the moment together. It would’ve been… it could’ve been perfect, if it weren’t for his distant gaze. You ignored it, you did your best anyways, to pretend everything was… perfect.

Back in his apartment he had taken you out onto the balcony and asked to dance, it was silly but appreciated, the soft glow of the moon, the quiet humming of music. It was everything, you had always wanted a night like this and when you asked how he knew… his reply was simple.

“They would’ve loved this too.”

It hurt, it crushed you, it was getting to the point where you weren’t sure if he could differentiate between the two of you anymore. What memories had he made of you and what were the ones of them? Does it even matter to him anymore?

You’d stopped moving and he knew automatically that he’d fucked up, “I’m not them, Johnny,” you’d frowned, “I’m me.”

“I know that, of course I know that, and I love you,” he was lying, and you both knew it, he didn’t love you, he loved the memories of them that he saw in you.

The pain in his eyes was the kind when you fear you might lose someone, he was afraid… not of losing you though, of losing them. You love the happiness you bring him; you love him, you just don’t love that you aren’t the one actually giving him that happiness.

Your head leant onto his chest as you murmured, “Don’t forget it…”

“I love you,” he’d repeated.

You weren’t sure if he were trying to convince you or himself.  

#visions blurb #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage mk1 #johnny cage imagine #johnny cage #mk1 angst

[mothandpidgeon]

While the Baby Sleeps (demon!Ezra x f!reader)

pairing: demon!Ezra x f!reader (mom!reader)

rating: E! 18+!

wc: 2.6k

summary: The only way to get your baby to sleep through the night is making a deal with an unholy creature. But, of course, there are consequences...

tags: dark fic, Dub/non con (making a deal with a demon), breastfeeding, nursing, lactation kink, mommy kink? (but not like that), stretch marks, oral sex, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, horns, Ezra is a sex demon, moth never uses y/n

an: Here is my submission to #MothandBirdMothersDayChallenge! Actually this fic is the reason why I wanted to do this challenge. Sometimes when I'm in the dark nursery in the middle of the night, I have fun intrusive thoughts like 'What if there was a shadowy figure in the doorway?' To combat how terrifying that thought is, I took it and made it horny. Thank you @ezrasbirdie for betaing this, helping me do this Mother's Day Challenge, and all around being a cool auntie to my fics and baby Moth.

 ...

He wakes you every night. It doesn’t matter what you try. Your son hasn't let you have more than three consecutive hours of sleep since he was born. 

You’re at your wit’s end. 

Every time you look in the mirror you see a hollowed out version of yourself with dark bags under your eyes. You make yourself coffee without putting grounds into the filter. You fly into a tearful rage when you spill a bottle of precious milk. You don’t know who you are anymore. 

Tonight’s no different. You lift your crying baby from his crib. Rock him, shush him. You sit with him in the glider and try to nurse him back to sleep. It’s all done bleary-eyed, half asleep. Everything is these days. 

You’d give anything for this baby to sleep. 

Just as the thought crosses your mind, you look up to see a figure standing just outside the nursery. It’s shadowy against the dark of the hallway, shades of gray on black. From the height and broad shoulders, it could be a man. He stands abnormally still. Silent, watching. You think it’s just a trick of your sleep deprived mind until he moves just slightly and a patch of silver hair is caught in the moonlight. 

You must be dreaming because if there was a man in your baby’s room, you’d be terrified. And you’re not. You feel calm like you’re floating on steady waters. 

“Who are you?” you ask. Your voice drifts like a lullaby. 

He doesn’t respond, just leans in the doorway. All that you can make out is that blonde hair and two eyes that glint at you.

“I’ve come to help you, petal,” he finally says. His voice is warm and melodic.

You feel yourself nodding off for a moment. When you blink yourself awake, he’s by your side.

You can make out his features better now. Dark stubble covers a handsome face. The sharp angles of his nose and jaw are silhouetted in the dim. You smell woodsmoke and frankincense as he comes near. He kneels beside the chair and his brow furrows as he looks up at you.

“You need that child to rest,” he says. 

You nod pathetically. You can feel familiar tears well in your eyes. Hopeless, helpless. Desperate. 

“I can be of assistance,” he says. 

“Don’t hurt him,” you say, holding your son a bit closer to your chest.  Your baby might be torturing you in the night but you love him. You won’t let anything happen to him. Even though you’re sure you’re dreaming, you remember old fairy tales, creatures that try to trick and deceive. This man isn’t human, you know that somewhere deep inside you. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I won’t even touch him. It’s not the babe that’s piqued my interest. It’s his mother,” he explains. His obsidian eyes are on your lips, pink tongue darts out to lick his own. 

“Don’t hurt me either,” you say, though there’s no fight in your words. 

“That’s not my intention at all. Quite the opposite. You’re so beautiful, petal,” he coos, brushing his knuckles across your jawline. 

It must be a dream because you haven’t felt beautiful in a long time. Your body’s been stretched and broken, engorged and swollen. Your hair falls out by the handful. Your breasts reek of sweat and milk, a sickly funk. 

“I want you. Carnally,” he says.  

The growl in his voice makes warmth pool between your thighs. He looks at you like something divine, an awe over his features. His light touch moves down your neck and over your collarbone sending goosebumps over your skin. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel anything other than exhausted, touched in a way that isn’t a demand for food or comfort. 

“Let me have that and that boy will slumber like an angel,” he promises. He watches your baby suckling himself back to sleep.

It sounds so good. Suddenly the only thing you want more than a a night’s sleep is for this stranger to pleasure you, to be inside of you. You haven’t felt desire in just about as long as you haven’t slept. You’ve barely been able to shower and feed yourself let alone take care of your own needs.

“Put the child in his cot and go to bed. Tomorrow I’ll come for you and you’ll see,” he says.

“Who are you?” you ask again.

“I’m Ezra,” he whispers.

You wake up in your bed the next morning and you’ve slept like the dead.

That strange dream haunts you but you think of it as nothing more than that. When you put your son down to sleep the next night, you don’t expect any miracles. He goes down easily enough, a nice little fluke, and you decide to turn in early yourself. 

Its nearly midnight when you wake up but you realize it’s quiet. The baby isn’t crying for you. You glance at the monitor and see that he’s sleeping soundly, sucking away at this pacifier. Just as Ezra promised. 

Relief floods your veins. You put your head back against the pillow and your eyes drift close. As you begin to return to sleep, there’s a shift in the bed and you catch that earthy scent again. You gasp when you see Ezra’s black eyes. He’s beside you, the pad of his thumb tracing the plump of your lower lip. His chest is a wide golden plane littered with white scars, dusted with dark hairs. 

“Hush, petal,” he says. “I’ve kept my promise. And now I’ve come to ravish you.”

You want to tell him that you’re tired. You finally have the opportunity to go back to sleep and you shouldn’t let anything come between you and that sweet rest. But the same, strong want that you felt the night before is calling you. An ache runs between your legs up to where Ezra’s hand glides over the delicate skin on your pulse. You're powerless to stop your own desire from sabotaging the one thing you’ve wanted.

A languid sigh leaves you as you melt into his touch. 

Ezra sucks at your neck. You’ll have a black and blue mark from his teeth but the sensation is so delicious, you can’t bring yourself to care. 

He opens your legs and notches his hips between yours. The friction of his hard cock against your panties makes your back arch. 

“I want to taste you,” he says. 

He rucks up the ratty old t-shirt that you sleep in along with the nursing bra that’s constantly saturated with leaking milk. He takes a long moment to savor the sight of you so exposed, a smile twitching on his lips. A long, low growl leaves him as he slithers down your body, gathering your breasts in his big hands and bringing his face to nuzzle in your skin.

You hear him inhale deeply, taking in your scent. The stubble of his cheek scratches at your sensitive flesh. One thick finger circles your peaked nipple nice and slow. Your body responds— a bead of milk seeps out and rolls down to the valley between your breasts.

Your breath catches at the mix of sensations. Your cheeks heat and you can’t help the embarrassment that creeps up your spine. Much to your surprise, Ezra’s eyes widen with interest. He lowers himself and  traces the wet trail with the flat of his tongue. You can only imagine what he tastes– the musk of your sweat beneath sweet milk. It seems that he likes it. He closes his lips around your nipple and lavishes it with his tongue, groaning into your flesh. 

“Shit,” you gasp. 

You feel the tingle of letdown behind your breasts, his ministrations summoning more milk. Soon Ezra is drinking from you, grunting and rutting his hips against you. The other, neglected nipple weeps milk and he pauses to lap it up greedily. You tangle your hand into his hair and that’s when you feel it. There’s a raised bump amidst his curls but it’s hard as bone. It sits just above his forehead and stands only an inch high. As your fingers rake through his hair, you find another. Horns.

The terror you expect never comes. He might be something ungodly and all you feel is a building excitement. Everything about this is wrong but the world feels upside down. 

He comes away, his plush bottom lip glistening with pearlescent milk. It’s a sight that should repulse you but in the delirium of sleeplessness and lust, it just makes you hungry.

“You are an exquisite creature,” he purrs. 

His flat palm skates down your belly where you’re middle still holds baby weight, a reminder that your body is no longer your own. He peels your panties down your thighs. You feel the fine edges of his teeth against your skin. He penetrates you with two exquisitely thick fingers. No warning but you hardly need it— you’re already slick. 

You keen, back arching off of the mattress, and the sensation is doubled when he puts his lips to your clit and sucks with the same enthusiasm he had at your breast. His wide shoulders spread your knees to make room for his body. You drown in pleasure, a heady mixture of fire doused in the thick pool of sleepiness. Floating, sinking, cresting on a wave as he licks and spreads you open, presses in deep and coils you tight. It’s hard to believe your body can have such strong responses when you’re barely function in your waking life. Something primal drives you on and Ezra knows just how to unlock it. 

“Such a delicacy. To sup on milk and cunt,” he says, barely taking his lips from you. 

The swirls and undulations of his tongue and the sweet pressure inside works you into a frenzy. Your breath shortens and then stops altogether, your thighs tighten and you hold your eyes shut, listening to the whimpers and moans between your legs. It’s too much and not enough. 

When you come undone, it’s a rush of ecstasy that you want to live in forever. Rolling and gushing and sighing. You choke and arch, your entire body convulsing. Your spine clenches up like you’ve been struck by lighting and the electricity runs out through your fingertips and toes. 

“Such a glorious vision,” he muses as you come down, panting and shivering. 

Ezra’s eyes are fixated on you, pupils blown so wide they’re nearly black. He looks like he wants to devour you. 

You share his hunger. You want more already. You’ve just had a feast and yet you’re starving again. 

You see Ezra’s cock now for the first time. Thick and upright, it’s tip, flushed and red. He takes it in his fist, glazing his shaft in your release. There’s something animalistic about it that floods you with another wave of arousal. 

“More,” you manage to say. 

“Not too tired?” he teases with a wicked smile. 

You shake your head. How can you sleep when your body is on fire with lust?

“I’ll fill each needy hole,” he says. 

You whine. He lines himself at your entrance. 

“You’re a goddess. And I’m going to defile you.”

You're filled to the hilt. The noise that escapes him is animalistic and his eyes lose focus. You’re already fluttering around him, already so close to another climax. He fucks you, the stretch and rhythm making you dizzy. 

“This is the closest I’ll get to heaven, I fear,” he revels. “But what could be more divine than this sweet cunt?”

Each word that falls from his lips seems to stroke at your core. His hips drive into you, hands greedily paw at every soft part of your body. 

The only thing that quiets his debauched ramblings is suckling at your breast. Your senses are completely overwhelmed. Tears prick in your eyes as your insides tighten, another orgasm shattering through you. You bite down on his shoulder to keep yourself quiet. 

“Let me hear,” he demands. “He won’t wake.”

And so you do, crying out as you clench around his thickness, losing all control of your body. 

“That’s it, petal. That’s it,” he says. 

He goes on thrusting and pins you down, torturing that exquisite spot deep inside of you over and over again. You’re not sure where one climax ends and another begins but you’re possessed. 

“If only I could fill that womb, sire one after the other to keep you round,” he grunts. 

Ezra swears. He hisses out words in a language you don’t recognize. It sounds like an incantation. 

You hardly have time to make sense of it. He’s pulling out of you, grinding his wet length against your thigh and spilling hot ropes onto your mound. 

You lay beneath him, boneless and dazed. The exhaustion flushes over your weak body. You sense Ezra at your breast again as your eyes drift closed. 

The next thing you know, your baby is crying and it’s morning. 

It must be a dream. There’s no other way to explain it— a horned creature slipping in and out of your bedroom in the middle of the night, fucking you senseless when you have no energy left. But you wake up with come drying where he marked you. 

That night, he’s back again. 

And again after that. 

“Ezra, I’m exhausted," you breathe. "Please.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted, petal?”

Now your son sleeps soundly through the night while you are awake, debauched for hours without end. 

He’s insatiable and somehow you are, too. 

He fucks you until you’re raw. Your legs quiver and burn from being parted so wide. Your pussy feels battered and bruised. You beg him to fuck your ass just to give your cunt some rest. 

And although your body feels like it can’t take another second of pleasure, though it begs for a moment’s peace, every time he comes to you, you’re flooded with arousal. 

When you try to steal an afternoon nap, he’s there, cock already standing in his fist. 

Spittle dribbles from the corners of your lips as he fucks your mouth. It runs down your chest, your knees already bruised from the hours you’ve spent on them. You try to chase your own relief, grinding your hips against the floor. He pulls you by the ears to sink deeper down your throat. 

He grunts and moans and howls as he comes between your lips. 

He doesn’t always take. 

The next time he makes you come four times. 

“Again, again,” he chants into your ear. His words are hot breath as his fingers press inside of you overwhelming that ridge that sends you reeling. Your bodies are pressed together, sticky with perspiration and release and drool and milk. 

“I can’t,” you sob, your body sore and stretched to its limit. 

You’re so spent, so overstimulated, each orgasm takes more and more effort. But Ezra refuses to quit, punishing you until you reach a fearsome crescendo. 

“Oh, my petal, but I know you are more than capable.”

He’s right. You can feel the weak muscles in your core begin to twist. You hold your breath and focus on the brutal sensations Ezra gives you. 

“Besides, your ability is immaterial,” he goes on. “These were the terms of our deal. This cunt. Is. Mine.”

Despite the fact that you’re so exhausted you can barely remember your own name, hardly able to stand on your own two feel, the climax that hits you is just as monumental as the very first. 

“Have you endured enough tonight, petal?” he asks, sucking the gush of slick off of his fingers. 

“Please,” you whimper. “Please.”

You’re not sure if you’re begging him to stop or to keep going. 

“Tomorrow, petal,” he promises. “Now get some rest.”

He wakes you. Every night. 

...

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! My asks are always open and I don't bite (unless you're into that).

#mothandbirdmothersdaychallenge #ezra prospect #ezra x f!reader #demon!ezra #demon!ezra x f!reader #dark fic

[raapija]

hi! as a prompt for pookie au (which i love), how do you think carlos would react to finding out his dad is dating LANCE of all people? would he be immediately freaking out or would he hold it in and rant to charles about it later?

Thank you for the prompt. <3

(Carlos and Charles hadn't yet met, as this is set in 2018.)

summary: Lance talks with Carlos for the first time after Lance and Fernando told him they were dating. Also some strollonso fluff to balance it out.

warnings: some swearing, Carlos being extremely mean to Lance

Lance fiddled with the sleeve of his hoodie. He could feel his ears burning as Carlos stared at him from the other side of the patio table. The cool evening air made his skin tingle.

"Why?" he heard Carlos ask after what had felt like 15 minutes of silence. Lance had sat down with him after having dinner with Fernando. It was the first time they told Carlos that they were together. Lando or Oscar probably would've blurted it out at some point, but it was definitely easier to tell him like this.

"What?" Lance asked for him to clarify what exactly he meant by 'why?.' He couldn't really look at Carlos, because he knew he was staring daggers back at him. They had been racing together for years, but had never really became friends or spent time together. Carlos was also a couple years older than him and had always been kind of intimidating to Lance. Something about those dark brown eyes.

"Why my dad? Of all people, why him?" Carlos continued his questioning. Now Lance looked at him and his heart skipped a few beats as he saw the expression on Carlos' face. Contempt.

"I love him."

Carlos scoffed and Lance felt something inside him shift. He straightened in his seat and took a deep breath. He wasn't going to give in.

"Listen," he started. "I really do like him. I know it's fucking weird that he's older and you're older than me, but so what? We like each other. It's not just some fling. He's done a lot for me and I for him. I love him."

Carlos studied him from across the table. The longer he didn't say anything, the faster Lance's heart beat. Adrenaline rushing in his veins as if he was on a race track, trying to overtake him at a high-speed corner. In the end, it was Carlos who averted his eyes to look away.

"If you break his heart, I'll kill you." Carlos said and Lance breathed out. His face was serious. "I've seen what it's like for him, and I don't want to see that again, ever. So don't you dare."

"I won't hurt him. I promise." Lance said and Carlos' eyes moved back to focus on him.

"You promise?" he chuckled, now sounding condescending. "That's what the last guy said as well. And then he left him."

Lance's heart was about to burst out of his chest. Maybe he couldn't overtake in the corner and instead would crash into the wall.

"My dad gave everything to me. He gave me a chance when no one else would. He doesn't deserve you. He's got all he needs in me and my brothers. He loves us. Not you. " Carlos said, his words cutting right through Lance like little knives. It made his throat turn dry. "You understand?"

"I do." Lance got out. Carlos' chair dragged painfully on the tile flooring of the patio when he stood up to leave. As he walked past Lance, he gave him a strong pat on the shoulder and made Lance flinch. Crashed, in the wall. Game over.

"I'll be watching you." Carlos said and then stepped back into the house, leaving him alone. Lance breathed out and a flood of emotions ran through him as he relaxed. He was 20. Just barely got into F1 and immediately started dating a 37 year-old with three grown kids. This really did sound like some sort of a breakdown if you looked at it from the outside. Still, he was glad the only person at his throat was Carlos and not the media. Only a few people knew, and that was for the best. He had enough on his plate as a 'pay-driver'.

¬

Later that night, Lance was laying in bed, deep under the covers and waiting for Fernando to join him. He had been in this bed countless times before, but the idea of Carlos lurking somewhere in the same house made him uneasy.

He could finally hear Fernando's familiar footsteps climbing up the staircase to the second floor where the bedroom was. As soon as he stepped into the room, Lance's mind stopped racing.

"You okay?" the Spaniard asked as he sat down on the other side of the bed from Lance. He must've sensed Lance's anxiety all the way from downstairs.

"Yeah. Talked to Carlos." Lance said and turned onto his side so he could see Fernando better. The older man laid his watch and jewelry from his wrists on the bedside table and the slid under the covers. They were both facing each other and Lance scooted a little closed so Fernando could wrap an arm around him.

"How it go? Not too scary, I hope." Fernando's voice was soothing and Lance settled against his chest, warm skin touching his forehead. He felt Fernando press little kisses into his hair on the top of his head.

"He only threatened to kill me, so not that bad." Lance said and Fernando laughed. Him laughing made it feel a bit better, like he wasn't actually going to get beat up if he made one mistake.

"That's my Carlito." Fernando hummed and squeezed Lance a little closer to him, slowly running his hand up and down his back. "Don't worry about him. He likes to pretend he's tougher than he is."

"He told me someone broke your heart before so he didn't want me to repeat that." Lance said and Fernando's hand stopped moving.

Lance heard a quiet 'oh...' and wriggled back a bit to look at him. Fernando's eyes were sad. Lance didn't like that.

"I'm sorry."

"No, no." Fernando hurried to stop him from apologizing. He moved his hand up and set it on Lance's cheek. "That's nothing. History. I got you now, so it's okay."

"Yeah?" Lance asked and Fernando gently tucked a bit of his hair behind his ear. The Spaniard smiled at him, his eyes back to normal and happy. The things Carlos had said still irked at the back of Lance's brain, but he didn't press on it.

"You fix me." Fernando said and moved in to kiss Lance on the forehead. He then pulled him close again and held his arm tight around him. "I talk with Carlito tomorrow. Tell him to be nice to you."

Lance hummed and could already feel himself falling asleep. It felt so safe with Fernando. Strong arms holding onto him and his warmth transferring into him. Everything was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

#ask #short fic #pookie au #nando and his mcnuggets #strollonso #hope you like this 🤧💚

[wosoluver]

Not good at saying goodbyes.

Part 3/? - previous - next

Lena x childhood bestfriend!reader

Today you got ready like any other day. Had breakfast, got into the car and drove to work.

What you weren't expecting, walking

in was to see Lena's mother there.

When she saw you, her eyes were full of sparkles.

"Y/N! I can't believe this! You're all grown up!" quickly giving you a tight hug you had missed very much. "You're so beautiful. You look just like your mom. How is she? How are you?"

"I'm good, she's doing well, she's planning on retiring and moving back here."

"It's so good to see you. Can't believe Lena didn't tell me you were here."

"I can."

And she quickly looked for her daughter, who had opted for walking away, minutes prior.

"You meant no harm. I know it, sweetheart. And now that you're here, she'll come to terms eventually.

She still celebrated your birthday every year. And hung up your Christmas stocking, oh and she still hasn't watched that movie you had made plans to see together."

"I kept a full diary of the first two years after I moved, so she could catch up, when we were reunited. And watched as many of her games as I could fit in my schedule. Also, I kept the big bear she won me, at the fair we would aways go to."

"Everything is going to end up in the right place. I'm leaving, but just in case, let me give you my number."

"Thanks, it's so good seeing you again."

"You two honey, you have no idea. Have a good day at training, and if you see my daughter, let her know I went home and that I don't appreciate her walking away."

"Of course."

She was just like you remembered. And for a second it made you feel like you went back in time, when you'd aways pass on her messages to Lena when she tried running away from trouble.

You made your way to the locker room but most girls were already at the gym.

"Obi, your-"

"Lena." - she harshly said.

"Everyone around here calls you Obi, I'm the one who came up with it!"

"Well you lost the right to it, when you betrayed me!"

"I didn't betray you! I was a kid! Who didn't know what she was doing!"

"You hurt me!"

"I was hurting too! And I thought the best way to protect you, was not saying goodbye."

"Now it doesn't matter why you did it! I can't go back in time, and tell the younger version of myself that! I can't tell her that everything was just a misunderstanding. I can't unbreak her heart!"

"If I could go back in time and change everything, I would. I swear. And I'm sorry that's all I can give you."

"Yeah."

What was that even supposed to mean? 'Yeah'?

In truth Lena didn't know either. She didn't know what say. She only knew how she felt and that was, confused.

"As I was going to say in the first place, your mom went home and you are in trouble."

"For what?"

"Leaving while we were talking."

"She can't be serious! You did it first! And I'm the one in the wrong?"

You only gave her a sad look as she walked out of the room. It was like you were eight again, and getting in trouble for doing whatever the other was doing.

You tried your best giving her some space after that. After all you had nothing else to say to each other. She had bursted out her feelings and you had apologized. And you had been trying to accept the reality. You were far from doing good, but you decided to put her feelings first. Being respectful, to her wish to not be in touch with you.

"Hey Y/N! We're going out tonight, please come with us." - Said Georgia.

"Sorry, I can't. I have some plans I can't bail on."

"No you don't!" - said Giulia. "Stop saying that just so we leave you off the hook, for not showing up at our get togethers."

At this point Stanway had went her own way.

"You can't keep doing this. You're isolating yourself from the team. This has got to be affecting your mental health, the girls are worried."

"No they are not. They think I'm busy because of a relationship."

"Only Syd thinks that. And I know the truth. Please reconsider it?"

"Okay, I'll text you if I change my mind."

You didn't. Of course you didn't. And that had been the last drop, for her and some of your teammates. After a long talk through the weekend, they had decided on keeping to themselves. To not make things worse.

But Giulia could not hold back when you walked into training, Monday morning, with deeper under-eye bags, and a emotionless look in your face.

You were tired. Tired of crying. Tired of isolating, and only talking to your parents, through a phone. Tired of blaming yourself constantly.

As you left to the field, they all shared a look. Even Lena. You seemed to be doing okay... until stoped pretending you were.

"Don't act surprised! Your the one doing this to her!"

She said looking Obi dead in the eye, and going after you.

"Y/N! Wait up. We can warm up together."

"Is that an excuse for another lecture?"

"No. But you can vent out if you want to."

"There's nothing much to say... Except that leaving Barça was probably a mistake."

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

"Thank you, for trying to include me the best you can, and for taking care of me. You're and the girls are great."

"I wish you gave yourself a chance, to be happy here."

"Give her a chance!" - said Lea trying to get it through her friends mind. They had stayed back inside.

"She did worse to me!"

"You're taking this to far! She made a mistake and apologized. And I think not having her best friend for the last 15 years, was punishment enough."

"But-"

"No buts. What she did was wrong. But she was a kid and she thought she was doing the right thing.

You're an adult, and you know you are doing the wrong thing! It's not the same."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Do you think your younger self would approve of this? Of anyone treating her this way? Because the Lena I know, would never treat someone like this. Especially someone she loves."

"You still care a lot about her huh?"

"I love her and I don't think anything can change that. I promised myself to never leave her again."

"Just don't break your own heart, to keep that promise."

"I don't think a heart can be broken twice. But I'll try my best not to push everyone away."

"That's a good start. You need to feel better for the match this week. Frankfurt is a little harder to beat."

It felt good having someone to talk to again. And you knew you could only blame yourself for the loneliness you had been in. And she was right, you had to give yourself a chance, with or without Lena. Although that isn't how you ever planned your life to go.

Next part out either today or tomorrow 🩷

#woso x reader #futfem #lena oberdorf #lena oberdorf x reader #dfb frauen #fc bayern frauen

[mariamakeslemons]

@ghouljams Please help Lilac. She's tired enough to not realize Mom and Dad are fucking

Lilac woke to the sound of slamming. Sitting up, she looks around the dark room worriedly. It sounds like it’s coming from inside the cottage, even though the moon is still high in the sky and the wards are up. Slowly, she slides out of the bed Miss Witch was nice enough to let her use during her stay here. Wringing her hands nervously, Lilac hesitantly opens the door of her bedroom to peer out into the hall.

Nothing is there.

Swallowing nervously, Lilac shuffles over to her desk and moves around her grimoire and the tarot deck that she and Miss Witch are slowly working on together. Eventually, she finds the letter opener that Shop Keeper gave her on one of their more recent shopping trips, one made of iron with little pearls decorating the handle. Grasping it tightly, Lilac goes back to her door. Another series of loud thuds sounds through the cottage, making her jump.

Slowly, Lilac pads down the hall, her hand shaking as she figures out where the sounds are coming from. She freezes upon realizing it’s coming from Miss Witch’s room, fear making her stomach plummet.

“Miss Witch!” Lilac cries, running to the room and slamming the door open. Inside, Price looms over Miss Witch in her bed and both adults give Lilac wide eyed looks.

“Lilac!” Miss Witch cries back, shoving Price off her, “What are you doing up, sweetheart?”

“I-I heard slamming,” she replies, “Are y-you okay? He d-didn’t hurt you, d-did he?”

“No,” Miss Witch assures her, giving that nice smile that soothes Lilac every time, “No, he didn’t hurt me. I’m okay. You can go back to bed, okay?” Lilac hesitates, peering nervously at the frowning fae, before slowly nodding.

“G-Good night, Miss Witch,” Lilac repeats from earlier, before pauseing and adding, “Good n-night, Mister P-Price.”

“…Good night, little witch,” the fae offers back with a sigh. Lilac nods again and steps back out into the hall, but not fast enough to miss Mister Price mumbling, “Now, where were we?” There’s an abrupt sound of a hand against skin that makes Lilac jump and almost turn back, before deciding to trust her mentor.

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

Soap and Gaz are howling, Roach is wheezing, and Ghost snickers, as they all sit in Price’s bar. Price scowls, holding his whiskey on the rocks against the still red skin on his cheek. Normally, he’d have taken that as his Witch being a brat, but after the little one’s rush to check on her, he can’t really blame her.

“Yuck it up, y’ muppets,” he grumbles, scowling as he lowers his drink enough for a sip before raising it back up to keep the cool glass against his heated skin, “I c’n kick all you out.”

“But ye won’t!” Soap immediately argues with a shit-eating grin. Price grumbles, refusing to acknowledge that he’s even remotely soft on his boys (and his Witch, with the little one becoming important too, but he won’t admit shit). Instead, he sniffs and turns to Soap with a warning look as the younger fae peers over at Moon, again.

“Stop starin’ at m’ bartender,” he scolds, causing Soap to avert his eyes with a pout. Gaz chuckles as Roach claps the catch their attention.

‘You have no one to blame but yourself,’ the little shit signs, ‘Isn’t rule number one to not fuck while a kid’s in the house?’

“Naw,” Ghost pipes in, “That’s rule two for kids in the house. Rule one is no cursin’.”

“Why do I deal with you idiots?” Price groans as Soap and Gaz both start cackling again.

“Because you love us?” Gaz manages to get out between snickers. Price flips him the bird while trying to figure out how to get back into Witch’s bed while her little trainee is still around.

#This was literally stuck in my head while I was at work #Don't look at me I occasionally have the humor of a ten year old #my work #Witch #captain john price #Racheal Lilac #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #gary roach sanderson #john soap mactavish #mention of Moon

[pocketramblr]

I don't know if you're still doing it, but an AU where Gran Torino raises Kotaro.

1- as Shih put it, Sorahiko's an all-or-nothing guy. Nana tells him that Kotaro isn't safe anywhere near her, that she can't handle losing her son to AfO. Sorahiko nods, and asks if he should hide the boy, or go with him. Nana asks him to stay with Kotaro, and cries a lot. Sorahiko holds her, and then goes inside to tell Kotaro that he's going with him, and needs to pack up, and tell his mother goodbye.

2- Kotaro Yamada is raised in a strange way. Sorahiko can't cook any better than his mother could, but he doesn't try anymore. He knows Sorahiko used to be a hero, like his mother, but when he asks all the man tells him is he got his license because he just wanted to use his quirk, and now he keeps it in case whoever is after his mother comes for the boy. And oh, is Kotaro conflicted about his mother- he certainly can't say a bad word about her in Sorahiko's earshot. He knows she loves him, and is likely going to die trying to protect him from something. But he doesn't like it. *Yamada is just a common name, since Sorahiko is sure that AfO would know to look out for any Shimuras or Torinos.

3- When Kotaro is twelve years old, Sorahiko gets a call from a phone number he hasn't in years. He answers it, and there's a young voice on the other side, rough from tears, saying that Shimura-sensei told him to call the number after she died. Sorahiko knows this means Nana needs something else from him- the last thing she needs from him. But he has to help the first way too. So, he sneaks to UA during the day, and trains Toshinori while Kotaro is at school- Toshinori is excused for personal training, for "meetings with the school counselor after losing his teacher", and makes up classwork in the evenings after Sorahiko leaves. Toshinori stays in an altered apartment in one of the fake cities on UA grounds, alone when he isn't training. When Toshinori once tells Sorahiko that Nana was like his mother, Sorahiko asks quietly if Nana ever told him about her son. Toshinori just says she lost him, a bit of sadness in her heart no matter how she smiled or spoke of romantic dreams. Sorahiko tells him (Toshinori) that it's his (Sorahiko's) fault Nana never saw her son again, and that he's going to train Toshinori to make sure he can kill AfO, not the other way around. Which means he needs to leave the country. The last training session the day before graduation is the last time Sorahiko speaks to Toshinori for decades. And it will not be Toshinori reaching out.

4- Kotaro goes to high school, then university. He becomes an architect. He falls in love. He's surprised when Sorahiko is happy to hear this- weren't they both hurt so much by Nana? Isn't that why Sorahiko closed himself off from anyone but Kotaro? But he's encouraged. He marries Nao, builds a house for her and her parents and him and his. Eventually, they have a little girl, Hana. She looks so much like Nana. Sorahiko and Kotaro never say this fact outloud.

5- Eventually, AfO finds Kotaro. Hana is eight, too old for him to spark a quirk awakening in her without suspicion. But with enough eavesdropping quirks he hears that Kotaro and Nao are considering another child, so he starts setting up coincidences to nudge them along the line. When Tenko is born, four years later than in canon btw, AfO moves. Hana sits down at the dinner table, and when she touches her mother's arm, the woman turns to dust. Everyone starts screaming- except Sorahiko, who moves. He grabs Hana and breaks the window to the backyard, leaves Hana floating above the grass in terror, her jacket falling to dust as she hugs herself. Then he goes back, and grabs baby Tenko. He looks up to see Kotaro, covered in Nao's blood, looking to the front door, that also fell apart. A tall man stands behind it, reaching out a hand to the wall. Kotaro looks back at Sorahiko and tells him to go with the kids, now. Sorahiko breaks into Might Tower about half an hour later, with a child and a baby, and tells All Might these are Nana's grandkids, and he needs All Might to arrange tickets to I-island for the three of them, as quickly as he can while keeping it secret. He leaves a report in a file behind them. Toshinori only tells David to protect them, and Dave does. The baby's a year younger than Melissa, he has to help. Over a decade later, he finds that Hana's headaches seem to be from stress for her two quirks, the sort of opposite problem with Toshinori's decreasing power. But maybe he can build something to help- Melissa the engineer and Tenko the programmer are eager to help too, anyway they can. Sorahiko, feeling as useless as he always has, thanks them.

#pocket talks to people #anon #ask game #fine. i'll let the dual quirk thing hurt people in one au. because maybe they can stop it

[beetlevsboy]

i already posted this in some tags but I want to be more insane acryally. This is kind of just my opinion on Edwin and The Cat Kings relationship n why I don’t think fans should try and push their relationship.

Their relationship is starts off and is mostly the cat kings own narcissism and predatory (not age wise; I mean literally) behavior towards Edwin and Edwin's need for someone to push him into understanding that his queerness doesn't have to be torture and can be something giddy (even if he doesn't return those feelings). This is super important to Edwin but his rejection of TCK is also as he immediately recognizes his lack of feelings and actual literal discomfort at the moves placed on him. TCK is good about boundaries and consent sexually wise but that doesn’t stop their relationship from progressing from there.

At first, the cat king does like Edwin but he doesn’t know anything about him. He sees their relationship as a game and Edwin simply as someone he wants to have simply because he can’t. He continues to torment Edwin (showing up as people he does like, propositioning him still, being threatening when his control is questioned) through out the show but starts to feel that “romanticism” towards him because hes infatuated by the kindness he's shown despite the cruelty he's presented to Edwin. Queerness and performance always go hand in hand and Edwin’s lack of it entices the Cat King. The show runners and Lukas, the actor, have said themselves that the cat king is an older secretly insecure character. He’s jaded by heartbreak the the world’s condemnation of everything he is.

Edwin is this younger, genuinely kind character that shows him that projecting his hurt on others and romanticizing it only hurts both people in that relationship. Their relationship is about the isolation of queerness and the walls put up to protect yourself and the coping mechanism used to not be hurt again; even at the risk of hurting those just like you- or those who used to be (cough cough the show runners saying that TCK represented the older men with bad intentions that every young gay man has met that welcomes them into the space and makes them feel loved to use them). The Cat King uses Edwin and Edwin knows this. That kiss from edwin was not a reciprocation of feelings; it was to say "I'm sorry your loneliness had caused you to think you have to use your power to control those weaker than you. (Naive, young, and someone he can literally trap) It's the easiest way to feel. And while I cannot and will not give you what you want or need, you deserve to feel happy and not like you have to gain attention of those uninterested to feel good enough.”

I just can't even explain all my thoughts about their dynamic it's just so much about the predation from older queers because of the trauma they've endured from their elders and the cycle of hurt and abuse that is passed down and the way we can break the cycle with kindness. The way we can protect our youths by healing those traumas.

Something the cat king learns and accepts because he can like Edwin. He can show Edwin the sweetness and beauty of being queer while also not being the one that should hold his hand through it. Edwin cannot be a romanticized replacement for the pain others have caused him and trying to force him to be so, continuing to treat him like prey to catch, will only continue the cycle.

tdlr: their relationship is super important for both of their relationships with queerness and trauma and becoming more aware of their identities but their relationship is not romantic- it’s simply an attempt to romanticize Edwin into someone he could love (hurt and control) in place of the people who’s actually hurt him and is supposed to be a parallel of real life predation in the queer community but the realization of this created an amazing acceptance and new bond I do hope they explore without TCK trying to force a non-platonic relationship

Off topic but I don't like people defending their age gap because, yes, Edwin is 86, but he died with a teenage boy brain and then spent 70 of those years in hell where he certainly was not getting his brain developed while TCK has possibly hundreds of years of sentience and experience. The power imbalance is not it y'all and that’s like super clear in the show

#dead boy detectives #edwin payne #Dbd #dbda #neil gaiman #the cat king #cat king #I’m not tagging their ship name I’m not trying to hate on people I simply don’t understand why anyone would ship them #dc comics

[milkyrrr]

(Inspired by @mono-the-robot artwork)

Awakening

Emptiness. Silence. Darkness.

Nothing. That's all Eclipse felt when he died. He didn't want anything. He didn't wish anything. Only rest in peace.

What was he feeling when he suddenly woke up? He could feel his whole body itching and aching with pain. He couldn't even make a sound to express how uncomfortable he was. He didn't understand what was going on. Some kind of noise that seemed to be trying to get through the vacuum to his auditory module, the darkness gradually dissipating in front of his visual module and turning into a vague veil before his eyes... Where is he?.. What is happening?.. Is this life after death?..

The body gave in to the movements with difficulty. Eclipse could barely move a finger, let alone turn his head and look around.

Hunger. This is the next thing he felt after the aching pain all over his body. He felt hunger with every cell of his body, with every atom of his existence. Is it possible? He's an animatronic, they don't need to eat food!

But...

It was a wild hunger. The desire to tear apart. Biting into someone's throat. To hear the screams of agony and horror of the victim.

What is it? Had the kill code awakened in him? No, Eclipse did not deny, he always had a craving for murder, he literally consisted of it, but it seemed to him that he put this thirst for murder and the suffering of victims into Bloodmoon, partially getting rid of it in himself. He wanted to be smarter than his dumb father and... brothers? Children? Eclipse didn't care about these family ties. He considered Bloodmoon to be nothing more than a creation that got out of control. Oh, if he had been a little more far-sighted then, he and Bloodmoon could have made a lot of chaos. Perhaps his plan could even come true.

But that was in the past. He died. So why does he feel this way then?

"....ke up..."

What?

"......Wake up....."

Where did that voice come from?

"Wake up, Eclipse."

Eclipse felt an electric shock run through his body. And then finally he heard himself. He screamed.

And he saw.

"Oh, I see you're already awake," nodded someone standing in the shadows, quickly clicking something on some device and turning off the flow of electricity. Eclipse felt his arms and legs become lighter. He was able to get up and sit down on the table where he had been lying all this time. Oh, that's it. He was literally strapped in without being able to move. That was the reason of the strange pressure on his whole body.

Head tightened into a ring of pain. Eclipse growled in displeasure, clutching it and squinting. It hurted so much. Unfortunately, it doesn't feel like life after death. It usually doesn't hurt after death. At least, not in such a "mortal" way if that was even possible.

"I'm hungry," Eclipse said irritably, realizing that he wasn't alone in this strange dim room, "I don't know who you are and nor do I care, because you're going to die right now."

The animatronic abruptly jumped up from his bunk, rushing towards the shadow in the dark. But suddenly his whole body shuddered and froze just a few inches away from the stranger. Eclipse opened his eyes wide in amazement.

Those eyes....

"What is it? Why did you stop?" He heard the sneer in fusion's voice.

He knew this guy. This dumb fusion... They didn't cross paths personally, but Eclipse knew of his existence.

How... what... Why?...

"Why?"

"Why what, dear? You should word your questions more precisely if you want to hear accurate answers," Ruin cooed playfully, bypassing Eclipse and finally appearing in full height in front of him. His mutilated body left a lot to be desired, there was a feeling that it was enough to bend this little man for him to split in half. But for some reason, Eclipse couldn't hurt him.

"Why did you remade me? Without a purpose? For fun? In order to use in your stupid doomed to fail plans? What do you want from me?" He growled in displeasure. Head still hurt. And hunger burned inside. Eclipse roared in angrily, slamming his fist hard against the iron wall, leaving a small dent.

Ruin didn't even flinch.

"Don't worry, my dear Eclipse. I'll give you a purpose. I am your purpose," he took Eclipse's face in his hands, forcing him to bend over, "Oh, I see... I see this anger and hunger in your eyes... You're just gorgeous," he whispered enthusiastically.

"My perfect creation. Don't worry, this is just the beginning of our rise. Very soon our eclipse will cover the sun, the moon, and no one will stop us. Come on, my errand boy. I know how to satisfy your hunger..."

#tsams #sams #sun and moon show #my art #sams ruin #tsams ruin #sams eclipse #tsams eclipse #sams au #tsams au #the sun and moon show #villainous trio au