#''...oh shit forreal?''

[demonzoro]

thinking abt that anon who posted a hate comment 0.3 seconds after i posted a fic ....... genuinely you inspire me to write more

[joogios]

The fact that Gabi gets more hate for killing ONE (1) person and Eren gets so little for killing 80% of the WORLD is my thirteenth reason why

[friendsinsolitude]

Joshippoi was fucking insane. Some fuckass classmate called Mizuki girl-ish. More girl-like than the girls.

[fieldsofpoppies-in-salt-air]

the riko apologist / the baby girlification of riko that has happened since tsc needs to be studied

[art-o-gant]

so after putting it off for 50 years i finally listened to the new magprot.

[taskedbyheaven]

i think the most insane thing a human being has ever said to me was when the dishboy at my work asked if i write wincest. the whiplash that gave me is incalculable

[domeniudulce]

So you're telling me the petals are animated into his attacks. You're telling me that the petals that kick up under his movement and the swing of his scythe are animated into his attacks and aren't just an arena effect. That his footsteps are punctuated by the moonlit ellipsis of flowers with no true name. Is that what you're saying.

[hallaslin]

Dragon age had to die for Ciri to be a Witcher

[ringleaderising]

Okay I know you reblogged her on your main blog BUT

You🤝Me: using Rhea Ripley as body type inspiration for ocs

I desire her in a completely normal way (deranged)

The solution obviously was to make an OC built like her and initially it was a giant Russian punch fae and now its Sow's time to shine as the ripped love of my life.

[scopophobia-polaris]

Arn seeing Timie on the street: aw what acute lil guy sure hope he isn't tormented!

Bro absolutely messed up, wanted to be a good boy and help someone because this mirrors shit that happened to him but instead found out that Timie is filled with 10thousand problems and somehow knows Arn to a weird degree withought ever really talking to him and he cant...figure out why..... can you really meet someone in a dream?

And now poor Arnold got a little guy that wants to cling onto him when they're sad

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

Called up my coworker yesterday with the promise of Drama and ended up telling her that I was telling other people she doesn’t love me anymore

[peachyproserpina]

UR HONOR I LOVE THEM!!! I WOULD LIKE 10 MILLION MORE WORDS OF THEM!! I CANNOT WAIT TO READ EVERYTHING ABOUT THEM!!

Pretty Little Bat

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 3k+

summary: You have a crush on the frontman of the band that plays every Tuesday night at the Hideout and he finally notices you.

warnings: Not much? They’re in a bar, Eddie’s loud, Bats is shy.

notes: Y’all finally get to meet Eddie and Bats for the first time! I know some of my friends have to be sick of hearing about them at this point. Big thank you to @peachyproserpina for reading this over and editing! There’s more of these babies to come!

The Hideout always smells exactly like you’d expect the second you walk in. You sigh softly, eyes scanning over the duct tape on the bar stools and the jukebox that’s been stuck playing a warbly Journey song for three fucking days straight. There’s stale beer spilled along the floor and the scent of something metallic that might be blood or rust. Or maybe it’s just the natural scent of a place where the dreams of boys with too much ego go to die. You’d rather not investigate.

You’re halfway through psyching yourself up to brave the bathroom— a decision that feels increasingly like a health risk— when you notice the band starting to make their way onstage to set their things up. You bite your lip, you should go before they start to play. That’s why you’re here, anyway. So you stand, down the rest of your water, and make your way down the hall. You’re about to reach the ladies room, when the door across the small space flies open, outward, with a bang against the wall and nearly takes your nose clean off.

“Jesus—!”

The guy on the other side of the doorframe stumbles back and he freezes. So do you.

Oh. Oh shit. It’s him.

Eddie Munson. The guy with that pretty raspy voice that grins into microphones every Tuesday night. The guy plays his guitar like he’s trying to set it on fire. The guy who makes you sit through the exact same three-drink-minimum crowd just to hear his band cover Metallica. The guy you started coming to the Hideout every week for, just to see. And now he’s looking at you. Like he’s actually looking at you.

“You alright?” you ask him before your brain can stop your mouth. Your voice comes out much softer than you intended it to.

He blinks at you, taking in your words “Am I—?” His brows shoot up and he looks around the hall you’re standing in. “Am I alright? I almost committed manslaughter via bathroom door and you’re asking me if I’m alright?”

You shrug, a smile threatening to take over your face. “You missed.”

That gets a laugh out of him. It’s big and messy, and his grin follows right behind it— crooked, delighted, and way too charming for a guy who was wearing pants held together by safety pins by the looks of it. “Well, damn. I like you already.” He holds out his hand like you’re meeting at a church bake sale instead of outside a bar bathroom with suspicious stains on the wall. “I’m Eddie. Devoted fan of girls who wear eyeliner and look like they might summon a demon if you talk during a song.”

You glance down at the outstretched hand in front of you, and then you look back up at him. You take it— tentatively, sure, but you take it. You wrap your hand around it to shake his hand gently. His palm is warm and calloused. 

“…I know who you are,” you admit softly.

His eyebrows lift again, you like seeing that face. “Oh yeah?”

You nod again. “I’ve seen your band. A few times.”

Eddie’s whole face lights up like he’s a kid who’s heard the ice cream truck. “No way! You’ve been lurking in the shadows this whole time like a pretty little bat and you didn’t say hi?”

“I sit in the back,” you murmur and shrug your shoulders again, letting go of his hand.

“Yeah, clearly, I’ve gotten that much— because I’m only just now discovering the mysterious bat girl haunting the Hideout.” He leans casually against the wall, his shoulder immediately prodding one of those stains with band fliers plastered over ‘em. It would look cooler if it weren’t for the fact that his elbow immediately slips, he stumbles, and he has to correct himself like nothing happened. “You here alone?”

You nod again. Saying “I come here alone in hopes you’ll notice me” feels a bit much, even for tonight when he had noticed you. 

Eddie’s eyes gleam at that, like he’s just been handed a gift. “Even better.” He bounces a little on his toes, his arms folding behind his back so he can pinch himself without you noticing. There’s no way you are talking to him. “Hey. Can I buy you a drink?”

You open your mouth to answer him. You’d love a drink. But before you can respond—

“EDDIE!”

He groans softly, tossing his head back like someone’s just told him the gig’s canceled and there’s no pizza backstage. He closes his eyes for a moment and lets out a breath. You glance over at where the voice had come from. That’s Gareth, right?  You think you could remember Eddie saying his name once or twice. He was shorter than Eddie, he had sandy blonde hair, and looked like he was the brawn to Eddie’s brain.

Eddie opens his eyes and turns back to you. He was fucking dramatic to the last second and you found it unfortunately endearing. “Fate is a cruel mistress. She giveth, and Gareth shouteth.”

You smile at that, you bring your hand up. It’s just a tiny thing you try to hide behind your sleeve. He notices and it brings that big, wide, grin back.

“I gotta go,” he says softly, already taking a step back from the little bubble you’d created, “but if you stick around— if you survive our set— I’m gonna come find you. That cool?”

“Yeah,” you say with that same smile, growing just a bit wider. “Okay.”

And then he’s gone in a second, sprinting off like a horse someone set loose on a track. He hops onstage in a flash of hair and long limbs, he plugs in a guitar that might be worth more than your car, and hollers into the mic like anyone outside of the small crowd gathered near the stage wants to hear. You retreat to your usual seat at a table close to the door. It’s hidden by the  shadows. Your heart’s beating in your chest like you had just run a mile, but you stay put. Maybe just because he asked you to, or maybe because you really, really want to see him again. The last song ends in a messy crash of sounds. Eddie holds the final chord a little too long— like he’s God’s gift to metal— and then he flings himself into a dramatic bow that nearly takes out a speaker near the front. Gareth shouts something you can’t hear at him with a laugh, while chucking one of his drumsticks at him. Eddie flips him off, giving his head a shake. The audience— small as it is— cheers, drunk and thrilled.

You keep sitting still, your hands folded in your lap. Your palms too fucking sweaty. Normally you’d be out the door and halfway home by now, still buzzing from the music and trying to convince yourself you didn’t regret not sticking around to say anything to him. But your feet don’t move now. Not yet. Not with Eddie wanting to see you. 

“Shit, where is she?”

You hear him before you see him.

Eddie’s voice cuts through the noise of the jukebox, louder than everyone else around you like he was born with a built-in amplifier. You watch as he zigzags through the crowd, the boys follow after him, his hair is sticking to his face. Gareth reaches for his arm and says something to him, but Eddie ignores it. He’s looking for you. And then he sees you.

“There you are!” he grins brightly. He’s breathless, bounding over like an overzealous golden retriever in a band tee. “You stayed! I was getting prepared to deliver a dramatic monologue about being ghosted in Gareth’s bedroom later.”

“…I said I’d stay.”

“Yeah, well, I said I’d be smooth and not whack a girl with a door, so we’re both liars.”

You glance at your bag, your hands fidgeting against the strap. “You don’t have to hang out if you’ve got—”

“Hey, hey,” he cuts in, leaning into your space slightly as he throws his palms up like you’ve accused him of something as  serious as murder. “I abandoned my band for this. Do you know what kind of guilt trip Gareth’s gonna lay on me later?”

You smile again, a bit larger than before. You’re starting to do that a lot around him. “This?”

“This,” he confirms with a nod as he drops into the seat across from you. “You. Sitting here like some kinda dream I wasn’t cool enough to have.”

“You’re very dramatic.”

“I’ve been told,” he says proudly and lets out a sigh so dreamy you think it must be fake. Then he shifts slightly in the chair and adds more shyly, “I know this is probably weird, but… would you wanna hang out sometime? Like, not here. Somewhere with less potential tetanus.” He says softly, letting his eyes linger around the bar. 

You blink, trying to figure out if he were playing some cruel joke on you. “…I don’t really talk a lot,” you say softly, just being honest. “I get… weird… Around people.”

Eddie’s eyes soften immediately. “Hey. That’s alright,” he says gently, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “I can talk enough for both of us. Yeah? You just have to sit there being all mysterious while I do all the heavy lifting. I’ll make a fool of myself on my own.”

You finally look up to meet his eyes. Really meet them. You adore the deep brown that flash amber each time a flickering light hits them. You smile again, “You don’t seem like you get embarrassed easily.”

He laughs, resting his chin on his hand. “Only constantly. But don’t worry. You’ll get to witness it firsthand.”

You aren’t sure if he’s messing with you or not. But there’s a pause and then you nod. “I’d like that. The hanging out.”

Eddie beams brightly. Like he actually beams with happiness. “Cool. Awesome. Excellent. You like fries? I know a place that does them the size of your head and they’re open late.”

You nod and he stands, holding his hand out to you. You smile, sheepish now, and grab your bag. For the first time in a long time, the nerves in your chest don’t feel like they’re suffocating you to the point of death. They feel like wings. They’re a little wobbly, maybe. But they’re still there.

And they’re helping you follow this long haired guitarist out of the bar into the cold embrace of a Hawkins night.

-*-

The diner he drives to is just outside of Hawkins. It’s tucked between a boarded-up bait shop and a mechanic’s garage that might’ve once been condemned. The neon sign flickers when he parks the van under it, casting a twitchy red glow over the windshield.

“Don’t let the aesthetics fool you,” Eddie smiles as he throws the van into park and then dramatically flings himself sideways to face you. “This place has the best fries in a forty-mile radius. Also the worst coffee. But we’re here for the former, not the latter, unless you’ve got a death wish and a strong stomach lining.”

You smile, nerves creeping up your neck. Although you already feel warmer than you thought you’d be. His talking has barely paused since you left the Hideout. He’d pointed out every weird building along the way, shared an unsolicited monologue about a raccoon that he found once trying to break into his glove compartment when he’d left the windows down, and told you— at least twice, proving that his earlier comment at the Hideout was true— that your eyeliner could cut glass. Now, he jumps out of the van and rushes around the front to open your door. He’s moving like he’s in a black-and-white movie and you’re the dame who just walked in from a rainstorm. He even bows a little.

You arch a brow, letting him open the door, but not before you try to hide your grin, “You’re gonna sprain something being that smooth.”

He beams at you, not even trying to hide it like you were. “Totally worth it if you keep looking at me like that.”

Inside, the diner is all peeling vinyl booths. There’s mustard and ketchup bottles on every table. The lighting hums overhead like it’s got something to say. Eddie doesn’t wait for a waitress— he just flops into a booth in the corner and pats the seat across from him like he’s claiming it in your name. You slide in slowly, glancing around the diner. You take it in. Where the exits are, where the counter is. Everything. The place is mostly empty. There’s only one guy at the counter sipping something probably not FDA-approved. A waitress quickly takes your drinks orders, delivers two waters, before she slides in behind the register and starts flipping through a People magazine.

“Cozy, right?” Eddie smiles, drumming his fingers on the sticky laminate table. “Like if a truck stop and a horror movie had a baby. I’ve written like… three different murder ballads in here.”

You smile around the straw of your water. “I’m assuming none of them are about fries.”

“Not yet, bats.”

You pause, a bit startled by the sudden nickname. “Bats?”

He shrugs like it’s really nothing, but his grin is absolutely something. “Back at the bar… you kinda flinched when I said it, and your cheeks did this little—” He gestures vaguely around his own face. “—smiley thing, so. I figured it was worth repeating.”

You feel your face start to burn, but the heat is nicer now than it is scary. Like he’s turning your nerves into something you want to sit in for a while. “You’re pretty observant.”

“Guilty,” he says softly, brown eyes bright with yearning. “I’m very tuned in to pretty girls who might secretly be vampires.”

You sip your water, hiding your smile as you divert your eyes down to his hand. You admire the rings adorning his fingers and you chuckle. “Only on weekends.”

“Shit,” he groans, thumping his hands on the table top. “It’s Saturday.”

Before you can respond to him, the waitress shuffles back over and asks what you want. Eddie orders like coming here has been one of his most favored traditions his entire young adult life— one chocolate milkshake, one plate of fries “big enough to sedate a horse” to share, and one strawberry milkshake he’d seen you eyeing on the menu.

“You really do notice everything, don’t you?” you ask once she’s gone, your cheeks still hot.

Eddie shrugs and lets his elbows rest on the table, looking everywhere but you. He’s growing bashful for a rare second. “I try to. Especially when someone interesting keeps showing up every Tuesday and pretending they don’t want me to notice them.”

You can’t even hide your smile this time, so you turn your face away. “Wasn’t pretending… I’m just… shy.”

“I knew it!” he crows, smacking the table again. “The eyeliner doesn’t lie.”

The fries arrive like a small mountain and he pushes the plate toward you dramatically, like he’s offering you treasure. “Behold. This is our destiny.”

You both eat and he talks. God, he talks. He tells you about Corroded Coffin’s first show at the Hideout (How for a long time they played to the same 5 drunks who were too wasted to find their way outside), and how Gareth once accidentally hit himself in the head with a cymbal trying to set up. He tells you about how his uncle’s old truck won’t start so he’s gotta take a look at it in the morning and how he nearly flunked O’Donnell’s three years in a row. He tells you about you, somehow— what he’s noticed during the night, what he likes, in between jokes and stories.

“You always look like you’re halfway out the door,” he says softly, picking at one of the fries. You go quiet after that. He doesn’t press on it. After a while, he tosses the last fry into his mouth and wipes his fingers on a napkin. “Alright, Bats,” he says, leaning back to stretch his spine. “You want me to take you home, or back to the bar, or…?”

“Can we sit in the van for a bit?” you ask. Your voice is soft and you don’t meet his eyes. 

He looks at you for a moment and then smiles as he nods, just a bit. “Hell yeah, we can.” He throws a few bills on the table and helps you up and out to the parking lot.

The van smells like cologne and cheap air freshener and something warm you can’t name that you hadn’t noticed earlier. Eddie climbs into the driver’s seat, twisting to face you as you sit sideways in the passenger one, your knee drawn up in the seat.“Okay,” he says after a moment. “So here’s the part where I either do something wildly inappropriate or I stare at you until you finally say something profound.”

You laugh before you mean to, turning to look out at the other cars littering the parking lot. “That’s a lot of pressure, Eddie.”

“I know,” he says, mock-sincere with a hand against his heart. “I’m very complex.”

You hum, then tilt your head to look at him for a moment. The facade starts to crack. He’s just like you. “You don’t seem as confident in here.”

He squints at you, confused, “What, like physically?”

“Like… when you’re not onstage. You talk more. Your body language is different.”

He seems to chew on your words for a second. “Guess that’s fair,” he shrugs, leaning back against the seat. He feels like melting. “Stage me’s got armor. Real me’s… just hoping I’m not gonna say something stupid when I’m hoping I’ve got a chance.”

You lean a little closer to him. “You haven’t said anything stupid.”

He meets your gaze fully now. And then he just smiles.

tags ;; @crybabyddl @jeangeniex @thejordiverse @vinecstasy @kripkie101-blog @prettycalla @robinbuckleywife @dancininseptember

[luv4berry]

Can you pls make one abt miles and yn getting into a very heated argument and she slaps him for saying smth outrageous and then she leaves and he climbs into her window after a few hours and tries to work it out with her

anything for you.

earth 42!miles morales x fem!reader

SUMMARY: you go over to miles practically drenched in another man's cologne, and he jumps to conclusions all too quickly.

GENRE: fluff to angst to fluff.

WARNINGS: bickering/arguing, physical contact made by reader, jealous miles, cursing, kissing/making out, suggestive (?) miles calling women females (this needs a trigger warning in itself), CORNYYY

AUTHORS NOTE: yo why this tumblr shit lowkey fun? + this is my first request agagaa thank you!! omg and i hit 200?? and my eyes only is almost at 2k notes wtf r y’all onnnn?? anyways thank you for requesting! i didn’t make miles say anything too outrageous just so he could redeem himself later on, hope you like it!

“you look so good,” your boyfriend says for what seems like the 100th time today, his large hands immediately dropping to your bare waist, fidgeting with your waist beads as he leans in to mold your lips, a smile gracing his face when you return his affection.

“all mine.” he mutters as he intensifies the kiss, his hands approaching the waist band of his boxers that you’ve claimed as your own. when he lifts your feet off the ground, the heels of your feet lock around his back, a giggle escaping your lips when he lays you down on his bed. you pull away from him, laying the palms of your hands on his chest to keep him away when he pursues your lips once more.

“miles, we can’t make out all day.” you giggle, running your manicured fingers down his chest.

“says who?” he buries his head in the crevice between your neck and shoulder, leaving wet kisses along the space when he suddenly pauses.

he removes his head from the crevice, sitting up to which you follow.

“baby,” you hum in acknowledgement, “where’d you go today?” he questions you, a hint of an indistinguishable emotion in his voice.

“just here, why?” you question him, running your nails up and down his neck. a look of confusion immediately sweeps over your features when he calmly removes your hand from his body.

“cause you smell like somebody been rubbing all up on you.” he looks you up and down, leaning in to now smell your clothes, hair, neck, anything within the perimeter really.

he pulls back, “who were you with?” his expression solidified.

“nobody, i swear i don’t know why i smell.” you reason with him, genuinely confused as well.

“oh? so the smell just magically took over your hair and your clothes?”

he completely gets up from his position next to you, hovering over you. “y/n, i know im not tripping, who the hell was rubbing up on you and why’s the smell so strong? that’s what we doin’ now? and then you got the audacity to bring your ass over to my house, lay in my bed, and wear my clothes.”

“what are you implying?” you scowl at him, now rising to your own feet.

“im implying that you forreal out here fucking on other dudes when you got a whole ass boyfriend.”

the next few moments go by swiftly and mindlessly, but the scorching sensation left in the palm of your left hand enables you to process what just happened almost immediately; you slapped him. though, not an ounce of regret filled your tank of emotions, adrenaline being the only identifiable one.

“i don’t know who the hell you’re talking to but it can’t be me, how dare you?” you glare at him, the imprint of your palm already making its mark on his face, the surrounding skin blemishing. “when have i ever done something like that to you?”

“today, apparently.” he mumbles under his breath, caressing the skin of his cheek to soothe the discomfort.

you look at him like he’s just grown 3 heads before silently walking over to the corner of his room, pulling his graphic tee over your shoulders. you immediately lunge it at him, same with his boxers, bracelets, his necklace, anything of his that is currently making contact with you. you zip up your navy blue hoodie, slipping your sweatpants over your bare legs.

you bring your tote bag over your shoulder, making your way towards his window which he currently guards, glaring at you from where you stand.

“miles, get the hell out my way before i pop you in your mouth next.”

“i want his name and address, you not going anywhere till i get an answer.”

you flail your arms in his face, “are you deaf or just stupid? there is no “him” because the only person i been rubbing up on is you!”

“baby, i don’t smell like no cheap ass cologne.”

“don’t call me that, move!” you raise your voice, stepping up to him.

“what’s his name?”

“you’re crazy.” you scoff, instead bolting for the front door. you’re mindful of mama rio cooking in the kitchen, slipping past quietly as to not raise any suspicion. though, you do bid her a quiet farewell, yet even when you slip out the front door with a smile on your face she knows something isn’t right by the way miles isn’t trailing behind you.

“miles, qué pasó?” she calls out from the kitchen, wiping her hands down her apron and subtly knocking on her sons door before entering.

“it’s nothing.” he calls back, digging his cheek into his pillow to prevent his mother from spotting the blossoming blemish. he didn’t want to explain how he got you so worked up that you slapped him to his mother, or anyone for that matter.

“it’s nothing? invite her over for dinner tonight.” rio arches her brow, taking a seat next to her son on the bed.

“we aren’t on good terms right now.” he sighs out, rubbing his hands over his eyes.

“even more of a reason to invite her over, right?” rio says, making her way out of his bedroom before miles could come up with a rebuttal.

he lazily grabs his phone when it pings, though when he realizes the message is from you, he throws it on the floor until the phone pings with a second message. he groans loudly swiping open your messages.

one attachment

next time don’t make stupid assumptions you dick

the photo captioned was of a half empty cologne bottle you had probably found somewhere in your home, miles heart immediately dropping to his stomach.

okay, maybe he fucked up a teensy tiny bit.

when you got home, you racked your brain for a possible explanation as to why you smelled like anything other than your boyfriend. you were stumped till your brother had walked past you, the aroma that had gotten miles so worked up earlier clouding your senses immediately.

you lay on the pad of your tummy on your king sized bed, your irritable mood causing a burning sensation to spread throughout your body. though it may not be displayed through your face, you were absolutely livid. after all you’ve done for him, this is what you got in return, his unprecedented allegations.

sure it was reasonable to be suspicious, but to outright accuse you? you’ve never given him any reason not to trust you, reassuring him whenever he needed it. had your words not been enough? what about your gestures? what about the times you’d cuddle up with him in bed, sleepily muttering words like “im yours,” or “i belong to you, miles.” had that not been enough?

your jittering thoughts are interrupted by a newfound presence in the corner of your room, the peripherals of your eye capturing those twin braids that you adore so much.

“nuh uh, get the hell up outta here.” you sit up, pointing back towards the window.

“deadass?” he raises both brows, staring at you dead in the eyes.

“deadass.” you return the gesture.

“nah.” he climbs into bed with you, settling his arm over your waist.

“im being serious miles, get out. don’t touch me either.” you pick up his arm as if it’s diseased, laying it over his stomach.

“you don’t like it when i touch on you?” he says in a sultry voice, and you roll your eyes.

“ma, listen to me,” he grabs your chin meeting you at eye level, your brows still furrowed out of anger. when your eyes meet his, any foreign sense of anger evaporates from your system, turning to putty in his hands, no matter how much you tried to fight it.

“you’re so pretty baby,” he kisses your downturned lips once.

“why you look so mad?” he ignorantly questions you, kissing your lips once more.

“baby smile for me?” he squishes your cheeks, yet he’s still met with silence till you finally part your lips.

“this isn’t helping your case by the way.” you roll your eyes at his obvious attempts to bribe you.

“alright, what if i came to you smelling like some other female? you wouldn’t like that huh?” he attempts to reason with you.

“i came to you smelling like my brother? and even then if you came to me smelling like some girl i would conduct a thorough investigation first.” you side eye him.

“how was i supposed to know it was your brother? i didn’t even know he was back.”

“he got back this morning, i gave him a hug and he must’ve rubbed off on me.”

“you didn’t tell me all that. so what i gotta do for you to believe im sorry, hm?” he climbs on top of you, following your darting eyes with his own.

“buy me a pandora bracelet.” you joke.

he perks up, “on god? baby i buy you jordans every other day, the hell is a bracelet?”

“i mean i was joking but you serious?”

“you didn’t know that i’d do anything for you?”

“you’re corny boooo, leave me alone.” you push his head away from yours, your facade breaking when a smile plays at your lips.

“y/n?”

“hm?”

“why do you hit so hard?”

“what do you mean?” you ask him, your outburst from earlier had completely left your mind. he turns to the side, and your eyes widen as they lay upon the imprint of your hand slowly fading,

“oh shit,” you wince, inspecting the damage of your earlier actions.

you throw the blanket off your legs, sitting on your knees to inspect further. you silently grab his hand, heading towards your bathroom as you slowly feel guilt begin to stir inside you.

“stay here.” he watches as you disappear into the hallway, coming back with a frozen pack of peas. you hold it up to his cheek for him, fiddling with the ends of his braids as you repeatedly check for signs of the bruising going away.

“im sorry miles, i shouldn’t have hit you.”

he hums in acknowledgment of your apology, parting his lips to speak. “it’s okay, i like them aggressive.”

a smile threatens your lips, your hand going up to cover your mouth to keep your false facade up.

“nah why you keep smiling?” he grabs your wrist, pulling your hand down to stare at you intently.

“stop that.” you attempt to straighten out your face.

it’s silent for the next few moments as you adjust the frozen peas seeing that the bruise had almost completely faded.

“y/n, you know im being forreal when i say i’d do anything for you, right?”

“yeah, i know.”

love, berry.

[hvnlygrl]

hello! may u please take my request? :) ♡

rafe cameron and reader are at a party and she starts acting bratty and telling him to go away and shoving him off and then he leans down and whispers in her ear to tell her to meet him in the bathroom for a spanking as punishment but she tells him no and that they should just do jt at home and then he smirks and leans down again saying that if they do it at home he'll make it 10x rougher, then he leaves, giving reader no choice as he watches her from afar with a smirk as she nervously chips on her nail and bouncing her leg. also can u write the smut punishment (edging)

⌞ BRAT ⌝

જ⁀➴ pairing | rafe cameron x fem!reader

જ⁀➴ word count | 2.4k

જ⁀➴ warnings | MDNI — raw sex (wrap it up y’all), rafe edges the fuck out of reader, crying due to edging, p in v, oral (f rec), creampie 🫣, uhhh, dirty talk, little bit of after care.

જ⁀➴ synopsis | at a party on figure 8, you begin testing rafe’s patience with your attitude. he’s not the type to let shit slide, and you’re in for a long night.

જ⁀➴ notes | HOT HOT HOT woah now i ate with this i think… thanks for the request anon! sorry it took so long i hope this makes up for it tho 💌

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the first time, rafe had to admit, it was cute. but by the third and fourth, he knew you were doing it on purpose. consistently teasing him by letting your ass glide against the thin fabric of his shorts as you passed in front of him, or the winks you shot his way over the rim of your cup. he wasn’t mad, per se, just frustrated.

rafe knew you were riling him up, and he knew that it was working. however, he wasn’t ready to leave, the two of you had only been at the party for a total of an hour.

rafe also knew that the more alcohol went into your system, the more you would tease him. and he was right, the longer it took for you to get your way with him, the more horny you felt and the more you pushed.

you finally found a moment where he was away from his friends, using that as your opportunity to whisper into his ear, “baby, when are we leaving?”

“not now,” he cuts a semi-menacing glare at you, “i’m not ready yet.”

you groan, making a face at him, “but babe!”

“no,” he affirms again, “not leaving now. you’re just gonna have to keep it in your pants for a little longer sweetheart.”

now you were frustrated, brows furrowed and eyes squinted at him. “seriously?”

“yeah,” he huffs back at you, “now stop teasing me.”

“or what? what are you gonna do about it?”

rafe looks at you like his next meal, “oh no, no, i’m not playing this game with you right now.”

“ugh, you’re no fun,” you roll your eyes.

you knew you were getting to him, but you also were fully aware that rafe would never let you be in control, especially not when you were acting like such a brat.

he leans down to give you a kiss, face hardening when you weave away from it at the last second, a mischievous grin plastered across your face. he takes a deep breath and tries again; this time grabbing your face as he does so. you wrench your chin from his grasp, dodging his kiss yet again.

“you being forreal right now?” he’s not hurt, that much is obvious, but you can see the mild anger building behind his gaze. “give me a kiss.”

“you can get a kiss when we leave,” you cross your arms childishly, turning your face away from him as you begin to walk away.

he grasps your bicep firmly, pulling you back and into his chest, “meet me in the bathroom.”

“nope, i’ll wait till we get home,” you raise a brow at him, almost as if you were challenging him.

“oh, baby, you won’t like it if you wait till we get home, it’ll be a hell of a lot worse.”

he grips your chin again, this time using his grasp to place a sweet kiss on your forehead before he leans down to the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin, lighting up each and every nerve in the area.

“meet me in the bathroom. now.”

you watch, wetness pooling in your panties as you watch him flash a grin over his shoulder while he makes his way up the stairs. you debate internally whether or not you should follow him, but you’ve dealt with rafe’s punishments before, and the last time was fairly recently, you weren’t sure if you could handle another severe one again just yet.

you quickly scurried up the stairs and down the hallway, eyes scanning back and forth until you find the bathroom.

you take a deep breath, ruffle your hair, and pull your hand from your mouth; a nervous tick you’d picked up as a child, constantly watching your dad mimic the same motion when he was nervous. you knew it was bad, that biting at your cuticles and nails was a big no-no at your age, especially being in a relationship with the king of the kooks. but you couldn’t help it, it was one of those seemingly unbreakable habits that was instilled in you at such an early age. and you figured there could be worse habits to have, so you didn’t do much to quit.

you let your knuckles rap against the hollow core door two sharp times, a signal to rafe to open the door, which he does almost immediately.

he beckons you in wordlessly, watching you squirm in place as you lean up against the bathroom counter. “hiya, rafey,” you huff out in a nervous laugh.

“hiya, baby,” he shoots a wolfish grin at you as he moves toward you, removing his rings and watch, setting the gold items inside of his hat atop the counter. “take your panties off and flip, angel.”

you follow the instructions, lip pinched between your teeth as you do so. you watch him in the mirror, his tight shirt making his muscles pop in the dim lighting. he looks down the neckline of your low-cut dress, his cock growing hard at the sight of your tits dangling against the soft fabric.

rafe drags his hands up the insides of your thighs as he uses his foot to spread them, a quiet gasp flying from your lips at the sudden movement.

“gotta stay quiet, baby, can you do that for me?”

you nod at him quickly, your pussy clenching and dripping just at the sound of his voice, much less everything else he was doing at the moment.

he flips the bottom of your dress up onto your back, leaving your mostly-bare ass out in the open for him to admire. rafe drags his hands across it slowly, fingers tracing the roundness of your cheeks. “you’re so pretty, sweetheart, every part of you is just fuckin’ gorgeous.”

you can’t help but blush at his words, dropping your head for a moment before picking it back up to watch him in the mirror.

“i hope you wore your good mascara tonight,” he laughs lowly, watching as you gulp at the implication.

rafe pulls your panties down and out from around your ankles, placing them along with his jewelry inside of his hat. he uses one hand to pull you a couple steps backward, your legs still spread as he angles you just how he wants you; pussy on full view for him to do whatever he wants.

he begins by slowly trailing his fingertips through your wetness, letting them glide through your folds and around your clit ever so lightly. the gentle sensation already has you breathing heavily, your hands clasped in front of you, gripping each other tightly.

rafe continues that motion for a few more moments before really focusing in on your clit, rubbing it in the way he knows you love the most. he builds up your climax, almost to the point of bursting, and then pulls away quickly, watching the realization flow over your face.

he was going to edge you to the point of tears, that was your punishment for acting like a brat all night, you finally understood, part of you kicking yourself with anticipated frustration while the other part of you felt nothing but excitement.

he flips you over, allowing you to sit atop the counter while he kneels between your open legs, your knees hooked over his shoulders. he starts by kissing long, slow kisses beginning at your knees and eventually trailing their way up to your sensitive area, his lips pressing up against everything except for where you want them the most. where you need them the most.

you were already horny before you even entered the bathroom, hence all the teasing and games you’d been playing all night, but now you were on a whole other level of horniness.

rafe waits until you're far past the point of squirming in your seat before giving your pussy a quick lick, letting his tongue swirl around your clit for a moment before pulling away, his eyes watching the look on your face fall back into a deep level of frustration.

“rafe,” you whine softly, brows furrowed desperately. “please, baby.”

“please, what? you get to tease me for over an hour and i don’t even get five minutes? that’s pathetic, baby.”

you groan at his words, knowing he’s nowhere near giving into your needs.

“you did this to yourself, just keep that in mind, angel.”

you huff softly, the sound caught in your throat when he latches back onto your sopping wet cunt, practically making out with it as you throw your head back in relief. he grips your thighs, letting the tips of his fingers dig into the flesh as he alternates between open mouthed kisses and intricate licks, waiting for the signs of an incoming climax.

you wonder if he’s going to let you cum, or if you can let one slip past him before he notices, but he knows your body better than you do, pulling away as soon as he knows you’re mere seconds away from hitting that point.

he repeats that process a few more times, bringing you to the brink of cumming four more times before standing between your legs, his lips coated in your juices as he grips the back of your hair, gripping it while he pulls you in for a kiss. “you taste yourself, baby? taste so fucking sweet, i just can’t get enough.” he’s almost breathless now, his eyes glossy with lust and his hair unkempt from your hands gripping and tugging on the golden strands.

he notices the tears that have welled up on your waterline, your chest heaving and your expression full of pure desperation.

rafe unzips and unbuttons his shorts, letting them fall around his ankles as he pulls you a little closer to the edge of the counter. he releases his cock from his boxers. he’s big, his dick full of veins and his tip leaking precum. he lets the tip glide through your folds gently, lets it swirl around your clit while he kisses you, his cock throbbing in his hand at the desperate sounds you breathe into his mouth.

your hips jolt forward when you feel his tip barely breach your hole, hoping that the movement would be enough to feel him inside of you, a whine falling from your lips when rafe pulls back, giving you a look. “you want me to keep going?”

a tear glides down your cheeks at his words, “no, no, please, rafey, i need it.”

“what? what do you need, baby?”

“i need you, i need you inside me,” you whimper, praying it's enough for him.

“what, like this?” he sticks two fingers inside of you, pumping them in and out quickly, curling them at the ends so his finger tips brush against your g-spot. your eyelids flutter at the feeling, a frown washing over your lips when he pulls them away. he sucks the juices off of his pointer finger before putting his other finger in your mouth. “speak up, sweetheart, tell me what you need.”

“i need to feel you, feel you fuck me,” you’re truly on the verge of real tears here, “please, rafe, please fuck me, i can’t take it anymore.”

he flashes that tell-tale grin at you, one hand gripping your hip roughly as the other guides his cock back into your hole, “whatever you want, baby.”

you gasp when he finally bottoms out inside of you, the tip of his dick brushing up against the deepest part inside of you. one hand grips the edge of the counter, the other one grasps the back of his neck as you pull him closer. the hand he used to guide himself into you moves to hold one of your legs up to his hip, the other gripping your ass tightly. he thrusts in and out harshly, breathing heavily as he feels you clench tightly around him.

“feels so fucking good inside this pussy, baby,” he groans softly into your ear, “this is my fucking pussy.”

“yea,” you moan quietly, “it's all yours baby, just for you.”

he continues thrusting, knowing that your climax will come crashing down at any moment after all the edging he put you through, and he can’t wait for it. he moves the hand that was gripping your ass to your clit, letting his fingers drag over the sensitive nub gently but quickly.

you grip the back of his neck even tighter, pulling him as close as possible. you can feel a scream building in the back of your throat at the upcoming climax, knowing that you can’t let it escape. so the only logical thing you can think of at that moment, your brain practically fried from the mixture of his endless edging from earlier and now amazingly good sex, is that the only way to keep quiet is to sink your teeth into his shoulder. he’s wearing a black shirt, so you know it won’t show, but even if it would you didn’t really have another backup plan.

rafe fucks you like a wild animal until you cum, his fingers still gliding over your clit as your body tenses, teeth digging into his shoulder. he throws his head back at the combination of your pussy practically swallowing him whole, clenching around him so tightly he’s sure his poor dick has suffocated inside of you, and the harsh feeling of your teeth. the cluster of feelings sends him spiralling into his own climax, hips stuttering as he fills you up, cum spurting deep into you.

the two of you rest for a moment, holding each other as you both breathe heavily. he plants a gentle kiss to your forehead before pulling out and grabbing a handful of toilet paper to wipe up the mixture of cum that begins leaking from your hole almost immediately. he gives you your panties back and pulls his own boxers and shorts back up, adjusting his appearance in the mirror next to you. “i love you, baby,” he whispers softly as he watches you go through similar motions, taking a different piece of toilet paper, wetting it as you wipe at your face, c;eaning up the places your mascara ran from the tears.

“i love you,” you smile at him, turning to plant a sweet kiss against his cheek, “that was fun.”

“yea, it was,” he laughs quietly, “you feel better now?”

“oh yea,” you nod, heart fluttering as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in for a tight hug.

he holds you for a moment, hand rubbing your back softly before leaning back to look at you once more. “now, let’s get back to that party and get fucked up, what do you say?”

“i’m so down, babe,” you smile, fingers interlocked with his as he leads you out of the bathroom after checking to make sure the coast is clear in the hallway.

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hvnlygrl 2025 ©️

taglist — @lanasb0ngwater @sarahsangelicdoll

[fortheonetrueking]

As far as Addy is privy to know, they simply are going to rescue Lesedi, since apparently the Pirate Lord is too important to aid his own daughter. That is also part of their end game. But what she doesn't know cannot hurt her, can't be used against her, at least not by those pirates that claim to be on the right side of things.

It's okay, Junior will show everyone that Ramsey and his gaggle are just as rotten as everyone believes Flameheart is. "New design onto the flare, you're going to be the first to officially use one."

They're curious when she speaks quieter, and lean in, tilting their head to a side. What warrants such secrecy? Oh. "For a good eye with a grapple gun, you've got Miguel here." A particularly burly reaper looks up, and gives an acknowledging nod. He's making sure he's got the supplies he needs, idly munching on a piece of pork. "I've already handpicked your escort team, and they're not afraid of having to take a trip to the Ferry. They'll keep you and each other as safe as it gets down there." An attempt at being reassuring, surely.

"That is to say, your priority is getting Lesedi and yourself out. These are more than capable fighters."

Addy doesn't want to know what their plans are specifically. All the possibilities are bad, but there are some worse than others namely, the exact thing they're planning on doing. She'd rather just assume the more mild possibilities. All the while gritting her teeth and tell herself that this at least has more of a chance of things turning out fine than if she left Lesedi in the shrine. Addy generally isn't the type to want to remain ignorant, but in this case, she'll take it.

She looks over the flare before taking it, examining it a bit more. She gives a slight nod. "I haven't seen one of these in person before." It's definitely interesting to her, but she secures it to her belt and moves on.

"Is anyone here who's particularly good at using a grapple gun to move around?" And, in a slightly lower volume "Or is there anyone you'd prefer to have a better chance of surviving?" There is no particularly safe role in her plan, and there is still a chance the others going into the shrine live too, but she'll need one of them to specifically help with moving Lesedi, and that gives that person at least a better shot at making it out.

[wattpadbxtch]

Wall Sex

pairing: toxic!p x toxic!a

Azzi had always talked slick about wall sex.

Every time it came up in conversation—movies, Twitter threads, group chat thirst traps—she was the first to laugh.

“Y’all believe in that mess? Please. Be forreal. That’s TV shit. People be barely lasting in missionary and you talkin’ bout liftin’ somebody up while stayin’ in rhythm? Bye.”

She swore up and down that wasn’t real life.

Paige would always smirk quietly when Azzi said stuff like that.

Not because she disagreed—

But because she knew Azzi hadn’t experienced her for real. Not like that.

Not post-weight room Paige.

Not I’ve-been-training-with-a-vengeance Paige.

Not I-don’t-just-hold-you-down-emotionally-I-mean-literally Paige.

⸻

So when it happened? It wasn’t on some slow, romantic, candles-lit type of time.

Nope.

It started with a fight. A loud one.

Azzi was pacing their apartment, heated, voice rising with every step.

“Why the fuck you always pull back when I try to get close?” she snapped. “Like, I’m not tryna argue. I’m tryna understand you and you act like I’m interrogating you.”

Paige was sitting on the edge of the couch, legs spread, elbows on her knees, jaw tight. Her voice was low, but sharp.

“Because you always come at me like you already made your mind up. Like I’m just some mess you gotta fix. And I’m tired of that shit.”

Azzi whipped around. “So now I’m the villain? I’m the one breaking you down, huh?”

They were chest to chest now, all tension and rage and years of knowing exactly where to poke to make the other person feel.

Azzi shoved her—one hard push to the chest.

“You make me feel like I’m too fucking much!”

Paige’s hands snapped to her waist. Gripped tight.

“Because you are too much,” Paige breathed. “And I want every bit of it.”

Then her mouth was on Azzi’s.

Desperate. Deep. Teeth clashing.

Azzi gasped, arms going up instinctively—and then she felt it.

The lift.

Paige’s hands dipped behind her thighs, grabbed, and lifted. Azzi’s feet left the ground like they weighed nothing.

Azzi yelped, half-shocked, half-wet. “Wait—Paige—”

Her back hit the wall with a solid thud.

Paige caught her weight effortlessly, one hand under her ass, the other braced against the wall beside her head. Her eyes were locked in—focused, heavy, dark.

Azzi blinked, stunned. “You really—?”

Paige leaned in, kissed her neck, rolled her hips once, slow and deep.

“You said this was for the birds, right?”

And then she started moving.

⸻

Azzi lost it.

She was gripping Paige’s shoulders like her life depended on it, thighs trembling around her waist, head tilted back against the wall like it might hold her together.

Paige’s rhythm was mean—strong strokes, calculated, using her entire body, every inch of her pressed between Azzi and the drywall.

Every thrust hit something crazy. Azzi was gasping, mouth open, eyes fluttering, voice cracking.

“Fuuuck—Paige—baby, hold on—wait—shit, hold on—”

Paige didn’t. She couldn’t. She was too far gone, teeth clenched, sweat sliding down her temple, hands gripping Azzi like a damn barbell.

“You feel that?” Paige whispered into her ear. “You still think I’m scrawny?”

Azzi whimpered, trying to catch a breath that wouldn’t come. “Oh my god. You beatin’ this shit up.”

Her nails dug into Paige’s arms, head snapping forward so their foreheads touched. Her whole body was shaking. Her voice was gone.

Paige kept going. Holding her up with one hand, fucking her with the other, not a single break in rhythm. The way her body was working should’ve been illegal.

Azzi came so hard she bit Paige’s shoulder. No warning. Just full-body collapse—legs spasming, chest rising too fast, sobbing into Paige’s neck like it was too much.

And Paige? She just held her. Still inside her. Still pressed against the wall like they were one person.

⸻

Eventually, Paige pulled back just enough to let Azzi’s feet touch the ground. She slid down slowly, trembling, legs completely gone.

Azzi stared at her, hair wild, lips red, breathing like she’d run five suicides back to back.

She tried to speak.

Paused. Swallowed. Then: “…Okay so… so the wall ain’t just for the movies.”

Paige smirked, dragging her thumb across Azzi’s bottom lip. “Nah. But you gon’ need a stunt double for next time.”

Azzi blinked, still dazed. “Next time?? I ain’t even recovered from this time.”

Paige kissed her, slow and deep, letting Azzi taste every bit of that swollen lip and pride.

“Thought you liked a challenge.”

Azzi grinned, dizzy and dumb in love.

“Only when it ends like that.”

note: for that one request