#please plague my inbox

[messingwithmoony]

I LOVE THESE and I LOVE marlene!!

eats ur blog

HELP HAHAH 😭😭😭

This is my favourite thing to exist actually

[bratzboykai]

Hey btw if you talk about Saint's violent transmisogyny and lesbophobia you might get some dickrider in your inbox called Casey-is-spacey. Preemptively block if youd like to dodge that "OH CALLOUTS ARE FINE IF ITS A MAAAN" bullshit.

[moonlight-prose]

“please don’t make me say it if you aren’t going to say it back” with a desperately in love with joel reader would hit so much…

weaved around your finger like yarn

a/n: me writing for joel again?? this has sat in my inbox for over a year and i never meant to actually take this long with it. but i finally figured out how to write this concept. and now i am actually obsessed with the small world of softness i created for these two. this is yes jackson joel, but nothing bad happens ever to him because why would it? it's all fine right?

summary: he never made space in his life for love in the aftermath of destruction. the after of his life he once thought would extend past decades of gray hair, smile lines carved in around his mouth now set in frowns and sneers. but snowfall and alcohol blur the lines for both of you when winter comes to jackson.

word count: 1.6k+

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, love confessions, heavy makeout sessions, alcohol consumption, tipsy joel, sad joel, laughter at the end of the world, hope.

He can't remember laughing until his stomach hurt. The ache that spilled into his chest, warming his insides with a sun like quality that left him shivering. He can't recall the feel of his cheeks pulled so wide the sensation became a phantom pain seconds after. He knows it happened. He can distinctly recall the jokes, the joy. But the laughter lingers like a ghost at the back of his mind—translucent and gray and distorted enough to feel false.

Alcohol simmers in his stomach with a rueful intent. A malignant aftermath that would hit him in a few hours after two months of attempted sobriety. Ellie insisted, he accepted. Easy enough to say. Difficult to follow through with.

He had his days where whiskey sounded better than the flavor of bacon Tommy would bring him in the early mornings. But the dismay in your eyes helped him hold off, regain his awareness of a world not yet shattered. For once in quite a long time...he finally lived. For you, for Ellie, for Sarah.

He lived to see his hair grow longer and the grays appear more frequently. To drink coffee in the mornings on a porch you were already settled on. To help you fix small things here and there in your cabin next door. He lived for your smile, the light in your eyes. The curve of your lips as they pulled up into bolstering peals of laughter—the furrow in your brow as you frowned from endless frustrations on long hard days.

Joel Miller lived to love you.

He existed to dig his heels in and wait shit out—it's what he was good at, what he knew how to do. But for you he relented quicker than ice on a hot asphalt driveway back home in Texas. His mind became sand that slipped through your giving hands—heart a fluttering mess that sang a tune he could never get right on the guitar stashed in his living room.

Days bloomed into weeks which grew into months. Eventually a year passed and what used to be difficult and awkward to be around people again, felt like breathing the fresh winter air. The jackets he managed to find hung on hooks by the door, a pair of heavy boots beside the small table Tommy crafted him.

The mornings were nice. When hot water hit ground coffee and the aroma plagued his kitchen for hours at a time. The evenings called you towards him—simple cooking skills shared in the confines of a home he pined for you to reside in.

Life was a sliver of peace he never imagined he'd get again. But the hole in his heart never faded, the pain still rang out sharp enough to have him clamping down on the inside of his cheek. And your smile made his stomach ache with a longing deep enough to scar.

Tommy told him to buck up and do something. Ellie called him a fucking idiot.

You...gave no indication you felt the same way. So silent and reserved he would remain.

Your feet slid on icy, fingers gripping tightly to his jacket with a yelp in a quick attempt to save yourself from slamming to the ground. Joel snickered loud and brash and a wash of embarrassment burned under frozen cheeks. Dragging you up, his arm looped tightly around your waist—hand pressed harsh and insistent to the small of your back. You swallowed the butterflies at the sight of his face flushed red—eyes shining from the effect of too much whiskey.

"We were bad tonight," you muttered, breath forming a cloud between your faces.

He grinned—skin buzzing at the close proximity of your form. "Only a little bit."

"You're not supposed to drink Joel."

Leaning in he traded his smile like a secret; you tucked it into your chest with a sharp breath. "I won't tell if you don't, darlin'."

"Joel..."

"C'mon. No one's gettin' in trouble here."

A blade pierced your heart brutally—spilling crimson along pale white snow. Even as Joel remained entirely unaware of how you clung to him. How your body called his name—your mind plagued with thoughts of his being, with images of his smile, with the sound of his raspy voice. He'd never know the way you cherished each moment with him. The mornings tucked away from an unruly world—the nights shared between friends who might one day be more.

Your teeth scraped along the cracked skin of your bottom lip, eyes cast up to the curl of his lips. The words sprang forth faster than you could drag them back. Your chest of secrets unlocked and bared to the man who drowned you in his small flecks of joy. Later you'd blame the alcohol. When the headache ravaged your head and an ache lingered between your thighs.

Later you'd comb over every small glance and breathy word.

"I like spending time with you Joel," you breathed, fingers toying with the front of his leather coat. "I like...um..."

The breath caught in his throat, gaze desperate to catch yours. "Yeah sugar?"

"It's a hard thing to say." Another cloud of your whiskey tinged breath filled the air.

"You can tell me anythin'. You know that right?" Even as hope flared bright and scorching through the width of his chest. "I'll listen."

Hesitation spilled into the night, your voice a soft whisper he barely caught. "Please don't make me say it if you aren't going to say it back."

Oh didn't you know?

Did you not see how his gaze dug beneath the layers of flesh and bone, of tendons and veins that clung to your form? Did you not understand he would take a bullet for you? That he'd bear the wound of a warrior's death to keep you alive? How could you not know that his love stuck to his tongue with a saccharine bitterness he swallowed down like the drugs he once took to numb his mind?

You healed pieces of his soul you never broke. A marred and fucked puzzle that was meant to find a home six feet underground. By his own hand no less. He was destined to die—born to suffer—yet you swathed him wool with the promise of a peaceful life.

A future etched by the hands of love.

"Say it," he pleaded, frozen hand cupping your cheek.

"It's more than just that." The breath you took shot adrenaline down his spine. "I like our mornings. I like our dinners and conversation. And even when you come into town with me. But I...I love..."

The glossy nature of your eyes created by unshed tears that pooled at your waterline dug the knife deep enough to meld it within his heart. You didn't know. You couldn't have. His silence, his hesitation, swallowed every emotion he might have told you—every secret uttered in the shadows of night that told only half his story.

He told you about Sarah. About their life together, about her smile. That in itself felt like a proclamation of love—a key to the heart he thought stopped beating long ago.

"I knew it would freak you out," you muttered, pulling away from his hold.

Only for him to panic. His hand gripped the back of your jacket, pushing you towards him hard enough for your feet to slip again. But your gasp was swallowed by the cold press of his mouth to yours. Lips chapped by the winter air slid against your parted mouth as you froze against his chest. Your hands hung listlessly at your sides. He kissed you tenderly, attempting to wake you from the spell of shock, but to no avail did it bring you back.

"'M sorry." His words were muffled against your chin, forehead pressed to yours and eyes squeezed shut. "I shouldn't have–"

The press of your fingers into his cheeks jolted him back—eyes wide as you dragged him back with a stifled moan. Your mouth found his tongue hot and wet along his bottom lip in a pleading motion he complied to instantly. Stepping forward he fell into you with a deep groan. One that echoed and vibrated right down to your stomach—one you savored with a lick along his back teeth.

Hands cupped your ass with an insistent need to mold you closer, fingers digging into the plush flesh he longed to bite and taste. You tasted like whiskey. You smelled like him. It made him dizzy with want, anxious to lead you back to his porch—to seat you on his kitchen counter in the mornings while the coffee went cold.

"Fuck I wanna take ya home sugar," he grunted, biting at your lower lip with a grin.

Your breathless reply made the hair stand on the back of his neck. "You can."

"No." He shook his head, stealing another kiss with a gritty moan. "Not tonight. 'M gonna do this proper."

"Proper," you smiled, tugging on the longer curls you refused to let him cut. "You're such an old man Miller."

The large breadth of his hand cupped your chin, pushing the cheeks he lightly bit into together. "Won't be sayin' that tomorrow when I ain't got all this fuckin' alcohol in me."

"Yeah?" The droop of your eyelids—the darkened iris now filled with lust—set his teeth on edge. His body hummed with a new buzz he craved since meeting you. "Prove it."

"Oh I will." He grinned sharply, licking his teeth like a wolf waiting to pounce. "Don't you worry 'bout that."

A glimmer in your eyes caught his attention, the grip on your face loosening. "You know I love you right darlin'?"

You smiled—big and bright—and Joel felt another piece of his soul set back into place. "I love you too Joel."

[planet-dusk]

tw//cnc, coercion

jisungie and coercion in a cnc roleplay scenario has been plaguing my mind for a while... he's all "please, baby? it hurts... i know you want it, too, right? i'll be quick.. promise"

"just the tip, please, baby. i promise. i love you. need you so much. you love me, too, right?"

which he immediately disobeys and slides right in, "why're you so wet, baby? you really wanted this, didn't you?"

"let me cum inside, babe. it belongs in this pussy, doesn't it? you know that."

if u have anything to add i might pass away but no pressure. ily ! i'm glad you're back:)

maesie it's so good to see you,, i hope you're doing well! and leaving such a treat in my inbox? yum <33

🏷️ han jisung x fem!reader. cw ; cnc, free use, breeding, pet names: baby, babe, doll ( 692 w. )

minors dni. for mature audiences only !

jisung gets so desperate when he's needy, and he's just a tad too big for you to not feel the sting without any prep of his fingers; the thought alone makes you wet at the most inconvenient times. so you and jisung came to an agreement: you get to use each other, wherever, whenever. but that doesn't mean it isn't fun to push back a little. feed into his recklessness.

"not now, babe," you manoeuvrer between the spice rack and the stove with jisung clinging to your back. "i'm trying to make dinner here."

"but i need you, baby. i love you. you love me too, right? i need you so bad. please, it hurts," he pleads, bulge pressing thick and heavy against your ass. "just lemme grind against you for a second then, yeah? i'll be quick."

he lifts your skirt and grabs your hips, hungry, fingers making indents in the flesh. his leaking cock slides between your thighs, rubbing against your clothed clit with every rock of his hips.

"that's my girl, so good for me, fuck— i can feel you throbbing trough your panties, baby." he kisses your shoulder, his grip on your hips becoming more insistent. "let me put it in, please? i need to feel your pretty cunt around me. just the tip, okay?"

"sung, the food —"

"dinner can wait," he slides your panties down to your knees and you instinctively push your hips back. the gentle but demanding press of his hand between your shoulder blades lowers you over the kitchen counter. his cock prods at your hole, clumsily in his need, catching on the rim a few times.

the knot in your stomach tightens at the prospect of him entering you raw. it isn't the first time but you know how much the pretense of it riles him up.

"n-no sungie, wait, not without a condom..."

"it's just the tip, baby. i'll pull out, i promise. god, this tiny pussy," jisung groans when your walls give way slowly for the thick head of his cock. you whimper at the burn, caught between the counter and his hips with nowhere to go but take it.

"i know, doll, i know." he soothes you with a kiss to your nape. you gasp when he sinks in deeper, the sting bleeding into a dull throb when he hits that sweet spot nestled between your walls. "'m sorry, shit — this pussy's sucking me right in, baby, i can't help it. want me that bad, huh? you're such a liar."

"'m not," you shake your head, cunt clenching around him at the same time.

"i can feel how wet you are, baby, i know you need this too." his hips slam into yours and he wraps an arm around your chest to lift you up, his long curls tickling your ear. "let me cum inside, babe, it belongs in this pussy, doesn't it? you know that."

his other hand's on your clit now, and you won't last long this way. you're too far gone to give him a proper answer so you shake your head again, stammering a chorus of pleas and moans as your orgasm quickly approaches.

"then why're you creaming on my cock, baby? this tight fucking pussy's begging to be bred," jisung groans, "knows who she belongs to. do you, baby? c'mon, tell me."

he forces his cock as deep as he can and you shudder, holding onto the counter top for dear life as he fucks you towards the peak of oversensitivity.

"y-you," you start to ramble, "it's all yours, sungie-ah, please..."

jisung leaves sloppy kisses all over your neck and shoulder, mumbling filthy words of praise into your skin. "best pussy in the whole freakin' world, gonna fill you up so good, baby, until it's dripping down your legs..."

he cums with a final gasp of your name, then holds you close for a moment. "thank you. i love you," he whispers into your hair, and you squeal in surprise when he spins you around and drops to his knees in front of you.

jisung laughs and presses a kiss to your mound. "dessert first."

© planet-dusk do not copy, translate or repost my works.

[minswriting]

Head Empty, No Thoughts - Aaron Hotchner x Reader

About: You can’t focus properly because all you can think about is how much you desperately needed to be railed. Hotch, being the amazing boss that he is, helps his agent with quite enthusiasm.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, boss/agent dynamics, soft!dom aaron, praise kink, fingering, oral (f), unprotected sex, doggy style, aaron’s an ass man what can i say? porn with no plot. not proof read because that’s lame

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: Hello my lovelies! Please make sure to reblog to support your content creators!! @nachrosas helped me with making sure this story is good lol. i hope you all enjoy! if you have any thoughts, feel free to send them in my inbox!

To say you’ve been having issues concentrating was an understatement. For the past few weeks, you’ve been going to work, trying your best to focus on cases, and yet, you could hardly concentrate on anything you’re meant to do. You simply follow orders and stay silent for the most part. It’s not that you didn’t want to work. You adored your job, even if it gets really hard sometimes. Your team is like your family, and you usually contribute to profiles and other parts of the case.

The issue was that it’s been months since you’ve had sex and it’s making you very grouchy and unable to think about anything else.

You craved to be touched, to be fucked so hard that you could cry from pleasure. Your last hookup, many months ago, hadn’t even been good. He didn’t make you cum once so you had to resort to using your fingers. And your fingers and toys can only do so much compared to being properly dicked down.

Currently, the team is on a case in Tampa, Florida. After a series of homicidal home invasions, you guys had been called to investigate. You tried your best to remain focused, drinking coffee, listening to Hotch giving orders, and hearing everyone give their ideas on the profile. And yet, you didn’t say anything. You didn’t give your perspective. You simply just listened with a neutral look on your face.

By the end of the night, when everyone had gone to the hotel to get some rest, Aaron had stopped you in the lobby to talk to you before you could go up to your assigned room. He put a hand on your arm, causing you to turn around to look at your boss. His brown eyes looked at you with concern despite his stoic facade. “Are you alright?” He asked softly, furrowing his eyebrows as he spoke.

You nodded your head, giving Aaron a small shrug. “Of course,” You replied. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve been very quiet the past few weeks,” Aaron said, looking at you as though he were analyzing your every move, profiling you. “Tense, too.”

“Well, I think we’re all tense all of the time, Hotch,” You joked, trying to change the subject. Of course, Hotch would notice that you weren’t yourself. You work with a bunch of profilers, and while the others always try not to profile the team, Aaron was one who usually profiled the team to ensure mental stability out on the field. It was his job to make sure you were all doing alright. However, you didn’t particularly want to tell your boss that you’ve been so…distant from work simply because you need to get railed. That would be awkward and unprofessional.

Aaron quirked an eyebrow at you, noticing the obvious change in subject. “You’re not usually so quiet during cases. Your insights are valuable on this team, and if something is plaguing you about your position, I need to make sure you’re doing alright, Agent.”

“Hotch, I promise it’s nothing related to the job,” You sighed, tilting your head. “I’ve just been distracted and frustrated, but it’s due to personal matters.”

“Perhaps talking about what’s bothering you could make you feel better?” Aaron pointed out.

You shook your head no, cheeks reddening in embarrassment as you thought about the idea of telling your boss about your personal issue. “I-it’s not something I should talk about,” You cleared your throat. “Especially with you.”

Aaron looked at you with a look of confusion, noticing how your cheeks got red. “Especially with me?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed once more. “What do you mean?”

You groaned internally at yourself with a small grimace on your face due to embarrassment. You realized that Aaron wouldn’t relent. He would interrogate you until the answer came out. So you decided to say “fuck it” figuratively. “I haven’t had sex in months,” you said bluntly. “And it’s been all I can focus on. But I’ll figure it out and I apologize it’s been affecting my work. I’m going to go to my room now.” And with that, you turned around and quickly walked away, not waiting for your boss to respond.

When you had gotten to your room, you quickly opened the door and closed it behind yourself, throwing your bag to the side as you quickly went to bed, burying your face into the pillow and letting out a muffled scream. You took a deep breath before turning onto your back and looking up at the ceiling. To say you were officially embarrassed was an understatement. You were mortified. You had confessed to your attractive boss that you hadn’t had sex in a long while and that it was affecting the way you worked.

With a sigh, you got up from the bed and went to your go-bag, grabbing a lavender purple nightgown before going to the bathroom and taking a shower. And once you had gotten settled into bed, reading a book, there was a sudden knock on your hotel room door. You checked the time, noticing how it was after midnight.

You closed your book, putting it onto the nightstand before getting out of bed. You smoothed out your nightgown before walking over to the door. You opened the door a crack, just to see who was standing there. Aaron stood there, still dressed in his suit but without the jacket. You opened the door all of the way. You immediately blushed as the embarrassment came rushing back. “Hi,” You said quietly, feeling exposed as you were only wearing your nightgown while Aaron was still in his work clothes.

“Can I come in?” He asked, looking at you with a look that you can’t quite place. You didn’t say anything as you stepped to the side, allowing Aaron to walk in. You closed the door behind him, biting your lip in nervousness. You turned to look at Hotch, not saying anything as he looked at you. He not-so-subtly looked you up and down before meeting your eyes. “You’ve been frustrated,” was all he said.

You nodded your head, heart pounding in your chest. “I have,” you said hoarsely.

He paused for a moment, as though he were thinking of what to say next. “You know,” he began. “If there’s an issue with one of the members of my team, it’s my duty to find a solution.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. “This isn’t something for you to find a solution to.”

Aaron let out a sigh, a break in his usual stoic demeanor. Being outright with himself was hard as he usually hid his emotions and thoughts from those around him. “I’m saying that I can help you,” he exclaimed, taking a step towards you.

“What?” You asked, still clearly confused but you had an inkling of what this was about. As Aaron got closer, you stayed put.

And when he reached you, he tentatively put a hand on your cheek, running his thumb across your skin. “I can help you,” he whispered.

Your breath hitched at Aaron’s touch. You felt dazed as you looked into his brown eyes. “Hotch-“ you whispered, not quite knowing what else to say. You couldn’t help but glance down at his lips, fighting the urge to just lean in and kiss him. Your gaze moved back to his eyes.

“What sort of boss would I be if I allowed my best agent to wallow in her frustration?” He asked huskily, leaning in, his breath fanning over your face. All you could smell was Aaron’s cologne and the faint smell of whiskey. And without waiting for your response, Aaron’s lips were on yours, kissing you tentatively as if he were afraid you’d pull away. But when you made a soft noise and kissed Aaron back, he deepened the kiss, moving his other hand to your waist and pulling you closer to him.

You didn’t quite know what to do with yourself other than to kiss Aaron. You couldn’t deny the obvious attraction you felt for your boss. You had kept it a secret, not wanting to ruin the professionalism that had been built between the two of you. But now, as Aaron’s chapped lips moved against your soft ones, you could hardly find yourself to care. Especially when it has been far too long since you’ve done anything.

Aaron’s hand moved from your hip to the bottom of your nightgown, lifting it up a bit. After a few minutes of kissing one another deeply, Aaron pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours. “Tell me to stop at any point,” he whispered.

“Please don’t stop.” You whispered back.

And without any hesitation, Aaron kissed you again. His tongue licked your bottom lip and you graciously parted your lips for him, allowing him to explore your mouth with his tongue. His hand went underneath your nightgown, slowly trailing upwards. Your breath hitched when his fingers reached the waistband of your panties. He pulled away from the kiss, moving to kiss your jawline and neck as his fingers slipped underneath the waistband.

His middle finger touched your slit, feeling the wetness that had pooled. You gasped at the feeling, bringing your hands to Aaron’s shoulders. “You’re so wet,” he said against your skin, trailing his finger from your hole to your clit before he began to gently rub circles against the nub.

You moaned softly, eyes fluttering shut. Aaron moved his head so he could look at you. He continued to rub soft circles with his middle finger before dipping it into your hole, gently inserting the digit. The way your body jolted at the intrusion made Aaron chuckle breathily. He began moving his finger in and out of you at a teasingly slow pace, getting you used to the feeling. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

You opened your eyes to look at Aaron, who was already looking at you. Your lips were parted as he gently moved his finger. And after a few moments, he added a second one, immediately curling his fingers. You let out a choked moan, maintaining eye contact with Aaron, as you held onto him. You felt drunk on lust, finally getting pleasured by someone other than yourself. “A-Aaron,” you moaned, breathing heavily.

“Beautiful girl,” he said, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. “Does it feel good?” He asked as his fingers moved at a slow pace inside of you, hitting your g-spot with each movement.

You nodded your head.

“Use your words.”

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“Good girl,” He said with a small smirk on his lips as he moved his fingers inside of you faster.

A shiver went down your back at the praise, an action that didn’t go unmissed by Aaron’s eyes. You began moaning louder, feeling that familiar heat building inside of you as Aaron’s digits moved with purpose. “I-I’m so close,” you whined.

Aaron hummed, keeping the pace. “Go ahead, baby, let go for me,” he said breathily.

And with a few more pumps of his fingers, you came, legs shaking as you tried to hold yourself up as you came undone on his fingers. Aaron’s free arm immediately moved to wrap around your waist, holding you upright. You threw your head back, whining with pleasure. When you finished you opened your eyes, looking at Aaron as you breathed heavily.

He withdrew his fingers from your cunt, bringing the digits to his mouth and sucking on them until they were clean. He moaned at the taste, the sounding sending sparks down to your pussy.

You couldn’t help yourself from looking down, seeing the bulge in Aaron’s pants. He looked so painfully hard and you wanted to help him just as he was helping you. You brought your hand to his bulge but before you could touch it, Aaron grabbed your hand. “Not yet,” he said, licking his lips. “Tonight’s about you.” And with that, he gently pushed you over to the mattress, making you sit on the edge.

You watched as Aaron got on his knees in front of you, looking up at you with his chocolate brown eyes. He lifted your nightgown just enough to reveal your panties. He put his fingers on the waistband, pulling them down and off of you. “I need to taste you, baby,” Aaron said, licking his lips as your bare cunt was revealed to him. “Is that alright?”

“Y-yes,” you whispered, looking at him with anticipation.

“Good girl,” he hummed before spreading your legs, burying his head between your thighs as he dived right in. His tongue licked a stripe on your pussy.

You immediately whined, eyes fluttering shut as Aaron’s tongue began to lap around your pussy. He circled your clit before putting his lips on the nub and sucking gently. “O-oh fuck,” you moaned as you entangled a hand in his hair, tugging at his locks. Aaron let out a groan against your cunt, sending vibrations through it. “Feels so good, Aaron,” you whined, throwing your head back in pleasure.

What was at first gentle quickly turned into Aaron eating you out like a starved man as he quickly got addicted to the taste of your pussy. He sucked on your clit, lapped his tongue around your cunt, dipped his tongue into your hole as his nose rubbed against your clit. He was messy with it in the best way possible.

It didn’t take long until you came for a second time that night, clenching your thighs around Aaron’s head as you arched your back and tugged at his hair, moaning his name so loudly that you were sure anyone sleeping in the room next to yours could hear.

And when you came down from your high, you relaxed against the mattress, allowing your back to fall onto the soft fabric. You breathed heavily, your chest moving up and down. Aaron pulled away from your cunt, his face absolutely covered in your juices. “You alright?” he asked, licking his lips.

You nodded your head, looking at Aaron with a small lazy smile. “So good,” you giggled gently.

Aaron chuckled, unbuttoning his shirt. “We aren’t done yet, baby,” he exclaimed, tossing his dress shirt to the side before undoing the belt of his pants. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly.”

You bit your lip as you watched Aaron undress. He was so fit and toned. You watched in anticipation as he tossed his belt to the side before unzipping his pants. He pulled them down along with his boxers, his cock slapping against his stomach. He was so hard, his cock red and leaking with precum. You couldn’t help the whimper that left your lips as you looked at it because he was hung, to say the least. “You’re so big,” you whispered in fascination. “Will it fit?” You’ve never had sex with anyone as big and thick as Aaron.

“You flatter me,” Aaron exclaimed, a teasing smile on his lips. He gave himself a few tugs before walking over to you. “We’ll make it fit.” He said simply. “On your hands and knees.” He commanded.

And you obliged without hesitation. You turned yourself so that you were on your hands and knees, your ass in the air. You felt a light smack on your ass, sending tingles down your spine. “God, you’re beautiful,” Aaron said as he massaged the flesh of your ass.

He then grabbed your hips, pulling you closer to him before lining his cock to your pussy. He teased himself and you, spreading your wetness along his tip, causing him to hiss in pleasure and for you to let out a whimper.

He then lined himself to your entrance, slowly easing his cock inside of you. You whimpered again, this time louder as Aaron stretched you. The slight pain you felt was worth it as you were finally being filled for the first time in months. And then Aaron bottomed out, you felt him pressing so deeply inside of you in a way you had never felt before.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Aaron groaned, keeping himself still.

“You’re so fucking big,” you whined in response. Both of you stayed still for a bit, allowing you time to adjust. And when the sting subsided, you let out a breath. “You can move.”

Aaron gently pulled his hips back before slamming into you again. He was slow with it but hard, making you really feel his cock inside of you. You yelped in pleasure, eyes closing. Aaron had one hand on your hip, the other on your right buttcheek as he thrusted into you at a slow pace.

“F-faster.”

“Say please.” Aaron replied, keeping the slow pace.

“Faster, please,” your voice hitched as Aaron pressed himself deep inside of you again.

“Good girl,” He said before moving his hips faster. His cock began hitting your g-spot deadass, causing you to moan much louder than before.

“O-oh my,” you moaned. You stopped holding yourself up with your arms, allowing your head to fall forward onto the sheets as your hands gripped them. Aaron’s pace was brutal as he very much did not hold himself back. This is exactly what you meant by needing to be railed. “So good!” Your voice was muffled from the sheets.

“You feel so good, my pretty girl,” Aaron groaned, watching the way your ass bounced with the harshness of his thrusts. He smacked it again, this time harder than before.

You whined in response, pressing yourself against Aaron as you began meeting his thrusts with your own movements. Your nightgown was ridden up to your chest, the straps falling from your shoulders.

“Fuck,” Aaron groaned, tilting his head back as he fucked you. You were so wet and tight around his cock. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to last long. He swallowed, moving back to look at you. You were absolutely gorgeous in the position you were in.

The whole scene was quite obscene and pornographic. Your ass was up, your back arched as your head was buried in the mattress. The sounds of your moans filled the air along with the loud smacking of skin hitting skin. Not to mention the fact that your pussy was so wet that you could hear the noises of it with every thrust of Aaron’s cock.

You felt that burn building once more as Aaron’s cock moved inside of you. Your eyes were rolled back from the pleasure as he fucked you so good. “I-I’m so close,” you mewled, your walls clenching around Aaron’s length.

“Ah,” Aaron groaned. “Be a good girl and cum for me, yeah?” He said, putting both hands on your hips as he drilled himself into you. “My beautiful girl,” he said with each thrust.

When your orgasm hit, it hit you hard. You came with a choked sobbing moan that you were sure other people on the floor definitely heard. Your legs shook aggressively as you clenched tightly around Aaron’s length, moaning his name repeatedly. Aaron fucked you through your orgasm, keeping up his brutal pace as he chased his own high. With a loud groan and moan of your name, Aaron pressed himself deep inside of you as he came, spilling his seed.

And when he finished, he pulled out and you both collapsed on the mattress, Aaron lying down next to you. Neither of you spoke as you breathed heavily, basking in the post-orgasmic feeling. After a few minutes, when your breathing finally caught, you lifted your head to look at Aaron, who was already looking at you, and you both couldn’t help the small chuckles that left your lips as Aaron pulled you into his arms, holding you close.

The next morning, when everyone had met at the station to continue working on the case, you were much more like yourself. You were more focused, engaged with the team, giving your input on the profile. Everyone just assumed you had slept well. But every time you glanced at Hotch, there was a subtle exchange of thoughts as you both would briefly recall the previous night. A quiet agreement that you both would seek one another out for relief.

Because what kind of agent would you be if you couldn’t ease your boss’s stress?

[luv4berry]

earth 42 miles × reader at a dinner with the readers parents + mama rio and uncle Arron?

also when i tell u im in love with your work! that shi has me kicking my feet😭🤦🏾‍♀️

control yourself.

earth 42!miles morales x fem!reader

SUMMARY: you go out to dinner with your parents, mama rio, uncle aaron and your beloved boyfriend, yet he can’t seem to control himself even in the presence of your parents.

GENRE: fluff <3

WARNINGS: kissing, parents being parents, loverboy miles, clingy miles, suggestive jokes, make outs in the bonus scene.

AUTHORS NOTE: ngl i struggled to write ts like shit, anyways thank you for your request and im deadass cheesing so hard rn thank you for reading!! (p.s, if you left anything in my inbox i HAVE seen it and i will get to it eventually!) hope you like it!

you zero in on miles’ eyes as they dart between your own eyes and your phone. you give him a suspecting look from the other side of the table before bringing your phone out under the table seeing as he’s already filled your notification dashboard.

miles 💓

bathroom? 👀

baby pleaseee

you did ts on purpose

holy shit you’re so fine

yk the sundress is lethal baby please 😩

you glance up giving him a stern look, shaking your head and mouthing a ‘no’ as your eyes flicker towards your parents as well as rio at the front counter of the restaurant. to the right of miles is uncle aaron, his eyes set on his phone as he took occasional glances at the two of you.

you make direct eye contact with miles for just a moment before letting out a sigh of defeat, nodding towards the family bathroom to your left. you don’t miss the hint of a smirk plaguing his lips, rolling your eyes playfully at his smugness.

to avoid raising suspicion, you stagger your way towards the family bathroom first—adjusting your slate colored maxi dress in the process. he watches as you disappear into the bathroom, brown eyes scanning the premises before he also gets up to dismiss himself.

“don’t think ion see you, player.” uncle aaron mumbles, grinning at his nephew.

“honestly don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout.”

yeah, they were definitely related.

you soon feel a pair of hands curve around your waist and whisk you around, your lips immediately beginning to twitch upwards. “your moms gonna kill you.” you say as he sways you side to side, his hands resting on your waist.

“us. she’s gonna kill us you mean.”

“the hell did i do? you’re the bad influence here.”

“you been giving me all sorts of eyes ever since we got here, don’t do that.”

“or maybe, just maybe you’re deluded and nasty.”

“mhm.” he hums, his hands slipping below your waistline.

“hands goin’ a little low there bud.”

“oh im bud now? thought i was your husband?” he nuzzles his nose into your neck, recalling you calling him that earlier in the day.

“my what? who said i was gonna marry you?” you tease him.

“stop playin’ with me.” he kisses his teeth at you, his chin going to rest on your shoulder as he continues to sway you side to side. after about 2 minutes of silence, his lips begin to inch towards the skin behind your ear, placing a singular kiss to test the waters. when you don’t react, he goes in for another one. when he’s met with silence yet again he goes in for a third—but before they make contact with your skin you place your palm over his lips.

“miles, no.” you give him a forbidding look, “you forgetting where you at?” you shake your head, the clinginess of this boy was unmatched.

“keep kissing up on me like my parents won’t hang me and then you.” you side eye him, unlocking the bathroom door checking the coast.

“why you keep running from me? you scared or something?” he questions you as he crosses his arms over your abdomen, pulling you back into the bathroom with him. he softly pecks your cheek a few times before he begins to kiss up the nape of your neck, your body noticeably relaxing in his arms. when you feel your senses begin to cloud with a familiar feeling, you catch on to his underlying motive.

“morales, you trying to seduce me?”

“‘course not,” he pauses for a moment, “is it working?”

“no comment.”

he smirks against your skin as your eyes close for a moment, allowing yourself to relish in the moment for some time. you also allow his fingertips to dance along your sides for a bit before you snap back to reality. you bring your hands to your abdomen, clasping them with his and turning around to face him. he gives you an unsatisfied look, aware that his time with you is up and you’d have to return.

“i’ll go first, come back like 5 minutes after me.” you cup his cheek, placing a short but meaningful kiss to his lips. you smooth out the wrinkles of your dress, peaking out the door before waltzing down the hall.

when you arrive at the table, you get a knowing looking from your parents, shaking their heads at the antics of teenagers. before you sit down you go over to rio, flashing her your best smile as she gives you a loving kiss on the cheek. you also give uncle aaron a proper greeting, giving him a side hug. soon enough you sit down quietly as the table makes small talk, occasionally checking for miles around the corner.

you zone out for a bit before you’re nudged in the side, your mom leaning into your ear, “you can tell your lil boyfriend he can come back now, we’re not stupid. i was a teenage girl too you know.”

you noticeably jerk in your seat at your mothers comment, diverting your attention to the empty space beside you where miles was supposed to be.

this type of response wasn’t exactly strange when it pertained to miles, out of all your boyfriends he was definitely your parents favorite. before miles, you’d never had a boyfriend come over unannounced just to talk to your father about whatever basketball game had occurred hours before. nor had you seen your mother continuously pester you to invite her “son in-law” over again.

unbeknownst to you, they both recognized that same spark from when they were teenagers growing up in brooklyn, climbing into each others windows at absurd hours of the night just to see each other, or cruising home together after school hand in hand while listening to 90s r&b. they were beyond joyful you had each other to stay on the right path, to not fold into the cruelty of the streets. it was no different with miles side of the family. rio knew that her son had been through a lot, from the death of his dad, to the stripping of his childhood. she saw you as something to bring him back to life, to provide him with joy that would serve him for a lifetime when she was gone.

though, with that being said—yes, you still had to leave the door a crack open whenever he was over, no he couldn’t sleep over, no you couldn’t sleepover. yes, you had been sat down multiple times. yes, miles had also been sat down countless times. again, your parents were teenagers once too, and they knew exactly what teenagers got up to. but, you still had that benefit of the doubt not to do anything they wouldn’t do… partially.

your tense posture relaxes when you see miles emerge from the corner of your eye, approaching your mother and father with a knee buckling smile. before he greets your parents, he approaches his mother. rio stretches out his cheeks, mumbling a “adónde fuiste?”

he greets your mother with a kiss on the cheek paired with a side hug and your father with a dab up. as he takes his place next to you he nudges your thigh, a slick grin still plastered on his face from earlier. you lightly slap his hand, muttering a “behave,” under your breath.

“i gotta ask,” uncle aaron speaks, “how’s the guy doing?”

“oh, him?” you point to him using your thumb, “he’s a pain in my—” miles sends you a side eye, waiting for you to finish your sentence as uncle aaron lets out a boisterous laugh.

“you’re asking y/n? she’s just as difficult.” your father teases from the other end of the table. miles pokes his tongue against his cheek in an effort to prevent a laugh from spilling from his lips due to the truthfulness of your dads statement. you glare at the both of them, your eyes narrowing at their teasing.

“but seriously, how are you guys?” your mother pitches in, genuinely curious.

“he’s alright, i guess.” you playfully state while smiling to yourself.

“she cool, i guess.” miles fires back at you while also smiling.

you lightly punch him in the shoulder, staring at him while fighting the ache in your cheekbones due to how much you had been smiling.

your parents nudge each other in the side as their eyes rapidly bounce between the two of you, silently thinking the same thing, ‘they’re literally us.’ rio and uncle aaron also look at eachother, smiling amongst themselves at the interaction.

it was nice to see miles drop his stoic persona for once, after the death of his dad it was nearly impossible to catch him smiling even slightly. if rio was able to see her son smile like this all the time, then she would gladly welcome you into her home anytime.

“glad to hear,” she smiles, “listen, you have my full permission to slap some sense back into him the moment he starts acting a fool, you hear me?” her eyes bounce between the two of you.

“don’t gotta tell me twice, mrs. morales.” you laugh.

your parents call over a waiter to check on the status of their order, the tables attention redirected for a bit. you soon feel miles lips graze your ear, softly saying “who you gon slap? you know i’d fold you in half, stop playin’.”

after knowing miles for as long as you have, you’ve come to learn that his words tend to have a double meaning. in the rare cases that they didn’t, it would be pretty obvious due to either the tone of his voice, or by his body language. in this case, your suspicion was confirmed by the tone of his voice.

“why does your mind work like that?” you turn to face him.

“ma, you know why.”

“i really don’t.”

“it’s the y/n effect.”

“i know you not over there making moves on my daughter!” your father calls out, miles backing up from you immediately.

“never, sir.” he leans back while laughing.

— BONUS SCENE

“been waiting to do this all night.” miles says as he drags you outside the restaurant while your parents cover the tab.

you quietly laugh when he backs you up against the wall as he shamelessly attaches his lips to yours, his excitement piqued when you return the kiss. his hands trail up and down your body as they fiddle with the straps of your dress, your hands moving up to sensually caress his neck. you fondle the end of his braids, wrapping your arms around his neck.

caught up in the moment, you both fail to realize the chime of the restaurants bell till you hear the clearing of a throat and the shout of your government name. your eyes widen as you quickly shove miles as far away as possible, returning to your respectful places on the stone pavement.

“damn, in the middle of the street? have some decorum at least.” uncle aaron tuts in the midst of your parents wide eyes.

yeah, you were definitely getting the talk tonight.

love, berry.

[certified-pumi]

Hi! A random anon here, I really love your fic and Time's fics, and DUDE I re-read the first chapter of your story and now I can't help but think of the ANGST plaguing the monkey family after Reader's disappearance (I YAPPED A LOT, SORRY o_o;):

I can imagine Wukong and Macaque (and eventually MK too when he gets old enough) just... hoarding Reader's things, like an old plush; crayon drawings of their childhood or sketchbooks of more advanced drawings; any images of their kid, in fear of forgetting their face; hunting for any recordings in cameras to remember their voice (and then grieving over the fact of not using such technology to capture their human child's life more back when they could)... even homework, maybe, to remember their lost child's handwriting. Items that back then would be eligible to be thrown out later after too much use becoming almost sacred, holding pieces of Reader's once-present existence in them.

If it's already common for humans to forget past memories and events, then imagine how worse it must be for two immortal, long-living beings? The silent threat of time and fading memory being even stronger than for any mortal, the threat of forgetting their first child, adopted, wanted even if not theirs by blood, all because of how much time would pass? The fear of just... forgetting they even existed at all?

It'd be such a double-edged sword, because they'd only then realize how little Reader had to themselves; how little Wukong and Macaque had given them compared to MK, and now it comes to bite them back when the only thing they get to remember their missing child by being a few measly hand-me-downs and old items; the desperation of preserving memorabilia of their child only to feel grief when realizing that's all of them that's left.

Please don’t apologise for rambling Nonnie, I’m very happy and honoured that you left such passionate rant about my story in my inbox! I absolutely love it.

I do apologise for not responding earlier, I was thinking about this ask A LOT.

While I can’t give away any plans for the sequel, I want to let you know that you gave me some new ideas that I wanna consider throwing in the next chapter.

So, thank you so much for sending in this ramble in. ❤

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

Can I please get a chibs fic that just is happy and sweet please.. im not doing good and I just wanna smile alittle

Hi anon! I just saw your request and I wrote the fic as soon as I saw the notification in my inbox

Whatever it is that's happening to you, I hope it get better soon (sending virtual hugs to you rn) 🖤

I hope you like it! 😊

"YOU LOOK BEAUTIFUL, SWEETHEART"

Jax had organized a party at the club to celebrate the weeks of peace they were enjoying on the streets.

Since that minor incident with the Chinese, the streets of Charming hadn't been plagued by the violence they'd experienced before, which was something worth celebrating.

That's why the president of the sons invited all the clubs to stop by the TM to socialize, congratulate each other on the work they were doing, and maybe just maybe create new alliances to work toward the same goal: a future without violence and bloodshed.

The Mayans were the first to arrive. Álvarez greeted Jax with a firm hug, just as Chibs did with a handshake.

Little by little, the clubhouse filled with the rest of the clubs in the area.

Chibs looked anxiously around them all, but couldn't spot you in the crowd.

Worried that something had happened to you, he asked Rat if he knew anything.

"She's on her way with Wendy," he reassured her. "They'll be here in five minutes."

"Okay," the Scotsman murmured. "Thanks, kid."

He leaned against one of the beer kegs Chucky had left outside and waited.

A short time later, the sons opened the door to let a car through.

Chibs lit a cigarette and slowly brought it to his lips as you got out of the car with Wendy.

The VP felt his breath catch in his throat and most of his blood concentrate in a very specific area of ​​his body.

You were wearing a knee-length black dress decorated with a gray skull print.

You had pulled your hair back into a high ponytail, exposing your neck, which was covered in necklaces in the same colors as the dress.

Fishnet stockings hugged your legs, making you look taller than you already were.

You laughed at something Wendy had said, and a pang of jealousy settled in Chibs's chest.

He wanted to be the one to make you laugh like that.

It was the first time he'd ever had such territorial feelings toward someone, and he wasn't sure how to handle them.

Wendy saw him leaning against the barrel and pulled you over to say hello.

When you stepped into the light where he was standing, Chibs could see you were wearing black lipstick.

That outfit was definitely made to torture him, he was sure of it.

You stared at each other for a few seconds, until Jax's old lady decided to intervene.

"Chibs," Wendy greeted, "we're sorry we didn't tell you about our expected arrival time. There was a problem on the road and we had to detour to…"

"It's okay, love," he murmured, giving her a kind smile. "What matters is that you're here," he whispered, resting his gaze on her before looking back at you

Wendy could sense the tension between the two of you, so she decided to leave you alone in the face of danger.

You grabbed her arm as she made to leave, but she gave you a “it’s going to be okay” look, and your eyes widened and you shook your head in a silent plea for her not to leave you.

Finally, she slowly released your hold and gestured toward the interior of the TM.

“I’m going to find Jax,” she announced before leaving.

You began mentally insulting her in every language while Chibs watched you without any shame or embarrassment.

He’d never seen you dressed like that, so his next comment came from the depths of his soul.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, “different.”

“Is that… bad?” "You asked, seeing the expression on his face. He shook his head.

"On the contrary," he murmured, resting his gaze momentarily on your lips. "You make me unable to stop looking at you."

Your cheeks blushed violently, while he smiled amusedly at the effect he had on you.

"You're not bad yourself," you replied. He raised an eyebrow suggestively. "I-I mean… you're…"

"I'm wearing the same clothes as always, sweetheart" He laughed, looking down at himself for a moment.

"I know, but you're… different." You frowned as you scrutinized his face, trying to figure out what it was. "Have you dyed your hair?" –you murmured, observing him closely– it seems you have less gray hair.

“No, I haven’t dyed my hair,” he laughed at your scrutiny. “I like my gray hair too.”

“Me too,” you blurted out without realizing it, bringing your hands to your mouth, dying of embarrassment. “I mean t-that… they look good on you…” you swallowed hard. “They look good on you.”

“Thanks, darling” he smiled. “Although not as much as this dress looks on you,” he said, sliding his gaze over it. “Where did you get it?”

“I bought it at a thrift store,” you smiled excitedly. “Actually, it was a good price, and I decided to buy it to wear it today.”

“Best fucking decision in the world” Chibs thought as he listened to you recount how you had looked at several items and finally decided on this one.

You sat there for a while, until before you knew it, the party was over.

You were so engrossed in the conversation that you hadn't realized you were alone.

At that moment, the rest of the children left the TM accompanied by Wendy.

You approached to greet them while Wendy watched as Chibs stared at you.

"It's getting late," you were saying at that moment. "We'd better go home now." You looked at your friend. "Wendy, can you…"

The blonde paused for a few seconds to think of an excuse.

"You see, the car was towed," she blurted out. "It turned out it had a breakdown, and since we couldn't drive with that for our safety…"

"How are we going to get home?" "You're not going to be able to get me to leave," you asked, until you realized what was going on there.

"Wendy's staying with me until we close the TM," Jax chimed in, who was already in the middle of it. "Bro," he said, nodding at Chibs. "Can you take her home?"

"Sure," he replied, nodding his head toward his Harley. "Let's go, honey"

After shooting Wendy a couple of dirty looks and a shy smile at Jax, you took the helmet the Scotsman offered you and climbed onto the motorcycle behind him.

For a few moments, the sound of the motorcycle's wheels against the asphalt was all you could hear.

Chibs tried not to think about the heat radiating from your body and how good you felt against him.

You were praying that you'd get there soon, because you couldn't stand that torture for another second.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, you arrived home.

You handed him the helmet, and he walked you to the door.

You took a deep breath and turned to face him, causing your gazes to lock again.

"Thank you for joining me," you murmured. "That was very kind of you."

"Anytime, darling," he replied, holding your gaze. "I really enjoyed talking to you," he added. "Maybe we could… do it again another day."

"We could," you nodded, giving a shy smile. "I had a great time today," you confessed, making his heart swell with pride. "Thank you."

"You have nothing to thank me for, doll" he smiled

You leaned over to place a simple kiss on his cheek before quickly unlocking the door to your house and slipping inside.

"See you tomorrow," you said as a farewell before closing the door.

You watched through the peephole as he stood for a few moments, absorbing what had happened, before heading down the stairs to his motorcycle.

Chibs would never confess it out loud, but he spent the whole night thinking about that kiss and the incredible feeling of your soft lips on his skin.

[witsserviceablesubstitute]

Misha Collins wasn't queerbaiting, the production of Supernatural was. Not maliciously imo and eventually it turned into an attempt at honoring the queer reading of Castiel and his relationship with Dean. (As much as was possible in such an environment). But it's conclusive that Supernatural baited their queer audience and if you don't see it knowing they're the reason for the term being coined at all then you weren't going to listen to my perspective anyway. (Please be kind and don't leave hate in my inbox.)

Misha Collins caused controversy for calling Destiel fan service early on but really he was being honest about its treatment. It was fan service. The industry's bafflement that homoeroticism and queer jokes genuinely result in queering a text is based in homophobia, which is likely why he was openly supportive. Misha Collins' ex-wife is an academic who studied gender and sexuality and so he would be more mindful than most of the problems plaguing his profession in how it treats female and queer characters and also how it treats women and queer fans.

The idea he was trying to gather any capital by bluntly stating fans could interpret a character or relationship as queer, that it was played to in the text, is laughably false. The film and television industry is misogynistic and homophobic and racist, and so too is the audience they're actively courting. It would have been better for Collins' career prospects to be coy and evasive about it. It's probable that some of Castiel's deaths were due to the actor's support, not his resurrections.

I don't blame actors for what they do and don't say regarding shipping or the queer interpretations of their characters. The likelihood is that they're more comfortable with queerness than fans project onto them but are unable to express it openly. This is especially true for actors of main characters. The interpretation of Dean as bisexual, for example, would've caused Ackles some consternation because of how biphobic his chosen environment is (both in fan and industry spaces). If Dean becomes a bisexual male lead character on network television his popularity plummets as a 'man's man' (heh), and suddenly his potential storylines inside Supernatural and any external roles Ackles pursues become restricted.

It was brave, not exploitative, to be so open about supporting queer readings of Castiel and his relationship with Dean. I think Collins probably just understood fandom more than most and didn't have a lot of time for the nonsense in his industry.

[skulla-rxcks]

Okay okay I know this sounds like a strange idea but its been plaguing my mind for ageeees. What do you think of doing a Bang Chan smut fic where the reader is a STAY and has posters of Chris on her wall and one of them (probably the most "appreciated" one that she pays attention to the most) Comes alive and kidnaps her or dominates the fck out of her in her own bedroom when she least expects it. Could be a dark fic or n0nc0n as well. What do you think?

Posters

Paring: bang chan x afab stay!reader

Rating: explicit

Genre: smut

Warnings: n0n c0n, posters coming to life, forced preg

I had quite a bit of fun with this hope you like it :)

Taglist: @f3lix00 @channiesgoodgirl @mal-lunar-28 @bangchans-gf5 @fun-fanfics @iwannabangchan @linosluver

Please dm me or use my inbox if you’d like to be added to the taglist ^^

!THIS IS PURE FICTION, NOTHING IN THIS IS REAL ITS JUST A STORY!

‘They arrived! My posters!’ I smile to myself as I take in the package that was left at my door before retrieving it to my room. I shut the door to my room and place the parcel down on my bed, picking up a pair of scissors and opening the box by cutting down the scotch tape that was used to hold it together.

Eagerly, I open it completely, my eyes meeting the inside of the box which is filled with posters of one of my favourite idols: ‘bang chan’ from stray kids. Each poster being from a different come back from his group, but instead of all the members it’s mainly just him.

My eyes glisten and shimmer with joy as I gently take the posters out of the box, I begin sticking the posters on my wall Instantly

————————-

“Chris mmmfh..” i moan, admiring the photos on my wall, my fingers stuffed into my greedy cunt as I imagine him taking me like a fleshlight. I close my eyes in pleasure as my head rolls back imagining how he’d feel inside of me. Fuck, how good his cock would feel pumping in and out of my holes, I wonder what his dick looks like.

How big is it?

what expression does he make while he cums?

various dirty questions flood my mind. I open my eyes slightly to look back at one of the posters in particular, I swear the eyes on it moved for a split second, making eye contact with me as I stuff fingers deeper inside of my pussy.

posters can’t move, that wasn’t real. right?

I sigh and pull my hand out from under my underwear, looking at my glistening cum cover my hand. I came so hard just from looking at a poster? really? god I’m pathetic.

I sigh and lay down on my bed, staring at the ceiling before slowly falling asleep.

Later that night I wake up, feeling something tugging my leg, I look around. nothing catches my eye but for some reason I notice one of my posters is missing? I sit up, rubbing my eyes to make sure my mind isn’t playing tricks on me.

suddenly I feel a force over my eyes and mouth, I can’t see nor can I scream.

“ignore it.” an Australian male voice says, removing his grip from my eyes and mouth, letting me see who he is. I stare in shock as I notice it’s Chan, the version on the poster I was getting off to in fact, the poster I was touching myself to

“what the fuck.. how?” I mumble, confusion flooding over my features. “That’s none of your business, sweetie.” He smirks, rubbing his hands and trailing his fingers up and down my body. “What are you doing..?” I ask. “What you want me to do. Don’t lie. I saw your face while your fingers were stuffed inside of you to the thought of me” Chan grins at me, his fingers trailing down to the waist band of my panties.

“I can’t give you what I want with those on, Y/n.”

“stop that!!” I cry as he tugs on the hem of my underwear and rips it apart, his muscles flexing as he does so. “don’t be a bitch. you want this.” he growls before lifting me up into his arms.

“Chan no don’t!” I plead with fear in my eyes as I watch him slam me down onto my bed and unbutton his jeans in what seems to be a hurry. “shut the fuck up!” he scoffs, tugging his boxers down, positioning himself at my entrance making me kick and squirm, trying to get away from him. “just let me have what I want!” he snarls. I look up at him in horror.

“fuck you..” I spit at him.

“fuck you too. you’re nothing but a useless little cock sleeve for me to fill and impregnate.” Chan laughs, pushing his dick against my folds and plugging into my pussy. I try to wiggle my way free, but I can only move so far, his build is fucking huge compared to me. “I h-hate you.. there’s no way the actual Chris would take advantage of something in such a way.. you’re just a.. figurement of my imagination!” I sob my eyes burning with tears.

“you’ll learn to love me soon, princess” he replies, thrusting harder into me now, it’s so hard it hurts. he’s hurting me. it hurts so much.

“take it out! please!!” I whimper, feeling him thrust into my pussy walls harder. He chuckles darkly, pressing harder into me, hitting my G spot again making me scream in pain. “I hate you!” I whimper, struggling again which only makes him wrap his hand around my neck; strangling me slightly and cutting off a bit of my air ways.

He laughs as he increases his thrusts. “oh honey you fucking wish. Just shut up and take my cock like the useless slut you are!” He yells. I try desperately not to choke, my body shaking as I fight for air and try to push him away. I end up coughing violently when he releases his grip on my throat. I feel like I’m slowly dying, I hate this. maybe this was my fate after all? I wonder..

“S-stop.. you’re hurting me!!” I scream, calling out for help. but no one hears me it seems, no one’s near by right now. “shut up and take my seed or I’ll fucking hurt you even more.” I nod In fear at his words.

Not long after he cums inside of my cunt, not pulling out until all of it has reached my womb, making me sob at the thought of getting pregnant this way.

[hungharrington]

Please send help im PLAGUED by thoughts of giving Steve the sloppy blowie of his life like him sitting on the sofa and being between his legs looking up at him with all the love of the world bc he deserves it!! he deserves to be loved!! and yes ofc i wanna get facefucked but yk it's about the sweetness!!! like looking up at him with teary eyes, smiling with ribbons of spit still connecting us, resting my cheek against his cock even though it's messy or precisely because it's messy, and just adoring him. Ik he'd have the orgasm of his life!! so overwhelmed by love and sweetness but also the intimacy and how hot he is <333

plagued fucking inDEED my god sorry this took absolute months my love so i hope u enjoy this! hoping 2 write a little more in next couple weeks so feel free 2 pop in my inbox! gn!reader, oral (steve receiving), luv <3 as always, MDNI this entire blog is 18+

There’s a tremble in his thighs.

Steve can’t help it, the muscles pulled taut as he tries his best to keep his hips from rolling forward. Your mouth is hot and glossy, lips stretched his cock, and Steve is in fucking heaven.

He can feel his chest flushing hot at the mere on sight of you on your knees before him. You look a dream, down to just your panties and bra in that colour that suits you so fucking well.

But it’s not that that has him feeling so unraveled so quickly. It’s the adoring look in your eye— peering up at him through your lashes, the faint teary eyed look, while his cock weighs heavy on your tongue.

You’ve been working him up for god knows how long, stroking and licking, aiming for that state you go crazy for; all whimpers and whines. He’s almost there, the buzzing lust the lingers under his skin dialling up and up.

“S-Shit, baby.” Steve curses, fingers in your hair tightening as you take him back down, your spit drooling down the length of him. Fire flares hot in his tummy. His hips buck up, searching for more heat to bury into and you take him gratefully. Steve groans, low and jaggedly.

“F-Fuck,” He says, the beginning of a whine sinking into his voice. “Oh, fuck— ngh— I can’t-”

His grip in your hair gets that little bit tighter and you can see the quiver in his thighs increase as he holds himself back from fucking into your mouth. It takes effort. You reward him with a soothing stroke up his thigh, a hand coming up to play with his balls.

It makes him whimper, sharp and high, and you can tell the thrust up of his hips is involuntary — Steve’s hushed and hurried murmured apologies as his hand strokes sweetly over your hair.

You pull off, your hand taking the place of your mouth quickly. You pump it quickly, slicking your thumb over the slit, spreading the precum the beads there over and over.

“S’okay, baby,” You say, voice low and sultry. “Didn’t mean it, I know. You know this is lovin’ time.”

You kiss down his cock between your words til you reach the base, giving one or two to the crease of his tan thigh. You nuzzle in, enjoying the way it makes him quiver. His tummy has tightened up and his cock twitches, his beautiful eyes hidden away from you as his scrunches his face up.

“Stevie,” You coo. You lick up the length of him and tease the tip of his cock with your tongue, your free hand soothing along his hairy thigh again. “Open your eyes f’me, please.”

He does as you ask, brown eyes peeking up. He’s positively flushed, cheeks scarlet and chest bearing that very shade. It rises and falls with his breath and his tummy rolls, clenching and unclenching as you see him hold back from fucking his hips up into your slow moving hand. You think you could watch him like this for hours.

“Good boy,” You praise, delighted in how a whine scrapes out his throat without warning.

“Just wanna say I love you,” You pout, hand on his cock increasing in speed, twisting and squeezing. Steve keens, his cock twitching violently in your hand and you have to push his hips back into the sofa with your spare hand to keep him still.

You lap at the head of his cock for a moment, kitten licks that drive him closer and closer to his edge. Whimpers fall freely from his lips.

“Love your cock,” you whisper, knowing he can hear you when you’re this close. The amount he’s leaking over your hand makes your motions loud and lewd, wet squelches as you pull him off. “Love making you feel good.”

“You do— christ, fuck, you make me f-feel so fucking good.” His breathes are all stuttering now, an indication of his rising climax.

You stretch your mouth around him again and moan at the feel of him, the salty precum dribbling from the head and the hardness that pulses against your tongue. His cock twitches in your mouth at the same time Steve cries out and throws his head back. His fingers flex tightly in your hair and a string of words fall out his mouth.

“I’m gonna— I’m gonna- oh fuck, aw fuck, baby— baby- mmfm, love you- I’m gonna—”

His hand flies to his mouth and he sinks his teeth into his knuckles, muffling the throaty groan he makes as his cum hits your tongue. You keep moving, suckling while your hand jerks him hard and fast, warm pulsating at your core as his moans melt into those whimpers and whines you adore. Poor baby, you think, because he always cums so much. You take it all, milking his orgasm and pulling every whimper and whine out as he shakes beneath you.

It takes another minute before he’s easing you off with a tug of your hair, breathless and looking fucking beautiful. You pull off and spit into your hand, wiping it on your thigh, just as out of breath as he. Still, you nuzzle closer and press a kiss to the inside of his thighs, then another, then another— til Steve’s urging you up as he leans down, his lips capturing your own.

[chaptersleftunwritten]

For my ficlet event! Please send me things in through my inbox if you feel you would like me to write something for you! I requested this one myself teehee xoxox

Number (40. Abduction) With Dark!Eddie Munson.

Warnings: Dark themes, cursing, threat. Read at own discretion.

The sharp coils of the mattress press harshly into your back, pinching at your spine and surely bruising your flesh. Your limbs ached in their restraints and your bones felt stiff; like iron that had rusted. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t open your mouth to scream, either. Your throat felt as dry as a desert and your tongue like sandpaper. Needles tickle your throat as you gulp largely, trying to coax saliva back into your mouth.

Your eyes strain into small slits as the singular light bulb buzzing ominously above your head threatens to blind you with its warm intensity. Water stains speckle the tarnished white ceiling, a cause of previous flooding and your eyes trace the cracks along the plaster. You choke down the tinging smell of must and dust. The room you are in had clearly been left vacant for some time, however, it had been quickly spritzed up for your arrival. You didn’t recognise your surroundings. The walls were bare stone and stripped of any personality and the floor was green and carpeted; recently vacuumed and clean.

Your stomach prickles as it twists into anxious large knots and your head pulses with a migraine which causes your vision to blur slightly as you try to find your bearings.

Your wrists are buckled tightly above your head to a metal attachment that was drilled to the concrete wall and you wince at the painful irritation that has appeared around the circumference of your wrist, evidence of your struggle against your captor. You were low down, the sheet clad mattress being laid carefully on the ground and tucked into a corner far from the room door which you could tell was bolted and locked from the outside. There were no windows, no sense of direction or time. You felt disoriented and fuzzy. Almost like medically induced fatigue.

And as the gravity of your situation finally started to seep into your conscious that’s when you realised the horror of what you were experiencing. Despite the way your dry throat fought against you, you began screaming for your life. Hoping— praying— that someone might hear you. A neighbour, a passer by, anyone. Anyone who could free you. You screamed until your throat ran raw and quiet.

But the only person who heard your cries for help was the devil lurking up at the top of the rickety old staircase. His mind plagued with unearthly thoughts and contemplation. Should he keep his identity concealed from you? Or, should he unveil himself? What would you say?

There was only one way for Eddie to know, and that was for him to do it. He wasn’t sure why he got so worked up over your reaction to him, it’s not like you could run away… you were his now. You belonged to him.

Forever.

Terror waters in your glossy adrenaline blown eyes as you watch the worn door whine open on its rusty hinges helplessly. Your heart feels as if it has stilled in your chest and you stop breathing for a moment of pure anticipation and dread.

Standing in the doorway is your keeper, his toned silhouette dark and shadow like. You wait for him to step into the light; to expose himself to you, but he doesn’t. Not yet. He just stands in the darkness staring at you. He’s trying to savour the sight of you. Even after all that struggle— you were still his pretty little girl.

“Who are you?” You ask, breathily. Your words are broken into laboured sobs and Eddie clutches at his chest dramatically, like it hurts him to see you so distressed.

You are met with silence.

“Who the fuck are you?!” You roar this time, much more furious and demanding. Eddie clicks his tongue distastefully before taking one singular step forward into the room. The overhead light casts devastatingly bleak shadows across the bone structure of his face and your jaw falls slack at the sight of him. Eddie can see the gears in your head visibly turning as you try to recollect every memory you have of him; but you can’t. You can’t think of anything other than how his black eyes are glaring at you and how his lips are smirking evilly in your direction.

“That’s enough of that— what happened to my sweet girl, hmm? Is she feeling brave?” Your eyes catch sight of Eddie’s fingers working on the notches in his belt, then as he slides it smoothly from his jeans belt loops you feel your heart plummet to the bottom your empty stomach. Your chest fills with the ramped beats of your tormented heart. The metal of the belt buckle clanks as he folds the leather together, snapping it as he howls darkly, “I’m gonna have to remind you of your manners, aren’t I, brat?”

You scuttle upright and nearly bruise yourself as your back slams against the concrete wall behind you. Only now do you notice your attire— a large plain black t-shirt with bare legs and… and no underwear. Your eyes glaze over and you bring your purple knees up to rest tightly against your body as you weakly attempt to cower away into a small ball in hopes that he will leave you be.

“Shhh… don’t cry, baby.” He advances toward you, “We’re gonna have some fun. Promise.” Eddie crosses his heart mockingly and you… well…

You hope to die.

-

[webism]

toji is a switch. I REST MY CASE

i feel like even he doesn't know it and need to have his switch awakening. here's how it'll go in my head. yall laying in bed in night and he randomly asks what you are in bed fully expecting you to say sub cuz that's all he's experienced with you yk BUT you go switch very very casually and he's ????? internally so so confused and freaking out and plays it off like pfft you couldn't dom me and she's like 🤷‍♀️

SO the idea of you being dominant plagues his mind cuz he's a pervert and he's like omg have she done that with someone else??? how does she know? wtaf? do i want her to dom me? she probably can't. ..... right?

AND SO EVENTUALLY it happens and i feel like the first time would be smth simple yk. just ride him. AND HES LIKE OH? cuz she's ridden him before but he was in charge so he's feeling cocky BUT JNG she starts by edging him with her hands (yk just to get him started) and he's getting more and more desperate on the brink of tears and so he's like fuckmrfuckmefucjmefuckme pleasepleasrplease and so she does and after he comes he's like woo that was crazy BUT SHE KEEPS GOING OVERSTIMING HIM and it hurts so bad but feels oh so much better and he's practically crying atp and drooling and moaning and whimpering(?)

meanwhile her whole dementor is very soft spoken very encouraging but underlyingly very subtly degrading him yk like she's talking to a pet

IDK HOW TO DESCRIBE IT IT MAKES SENSE IB NY HEAD please stick with me here 🙏

and after give him the BEST aftercare like the whole nine yards because we understand the importance of it (it's v v v important) he feels very safe very warm very clean very loved and very comfortable

AND OMG THE NEXT DAY he'd be soo embarrassed like it'll comeback to him and he'd be so flustered and just wouldn't know how to act around her and she's like????

tojis switch awakening lady's and gents yw 😌

also omg he'd be such a slut to when he gets more comfortable with the dynamic and less embarrassed (like yes my girl fucks and yes she does it well what abt it 🤨) he'd probably want to get a collar OMG MUZZLE ahem and def oegging too

sorry for the yapping i was just excited 😭

DUDE NEVER STOP YAPPING AND NEVER APOLOGISE FOR GRACING MY INBOX WITH THE MOST DELICIOUS THOUGHTS EVER.

this was a rollercoaster i’m hard. you’re SO RIGHT i’m floored i’m going a little crazy about switch toji exploring his sub side good god.

TOJI IN A COLLAR. TOJI IN A MUZZLE.

i wanna use a riding crop with him

ugh FUCK anon this was tasty.

[caesariawritesstuff]

Hello there! 👋I had this idea in my head for a while. The detective decides it's better to leave Gotham and Edward manages to convince her to stay by admitting his feelings for her. If you have the inspiration to write something like this I would be more than happy to read it😍🥺🥺

Your works are all amazing and I can't wait to read more❤️❤️

Don't Leave Me

Summary: You try to leave Gotham, but Edward stops you just in time.

Word Count: 2.3k

Content Warning: Spoilers for the end of Arc I of Cat & Mouse.

A/N: My dear @vas17sblog, I have to sincerely apologize for the fact that this ask has been sitting in my inbox since July. 💀 I am literally the worst. I'd always intended to answer this since I felt it fit better after the events of Arc I, but damn, I'm so sorry this took me months to get to. Please forgive me!!!

I also had a request to use the prompt "Don't leave me. Not like this" from an anon, which I combined into this request!

It was snowing.

Soft flurries came down from the sky, threatening to coat Gotham in a blanket of white. One bag was clutched tight to your side, the strap digging into your shoulder. The bus stop around you was quiet, not a soul in sight, as cars drove past on the icy roads. You reached into your pocket and pulled out the ticket for Metropolis, gazing at it for a long moment, before stuffing it back into your pocket, the paper rough against your fingertips.

The movers were already at your apartment. You’d let them in, instructed them to pack everything into boxes, and that was that. You couldn’t bear to do it yourself. You didn’t want to see all of your things, belongings you love, stuffed away into boxes and hauled into the back of a truck. You’d already rented a place in Metropolis. Hadn’t even cared to look at anything more than a few photos online. Hadn’t cared that the rent was high. The truth was that you just wanted out of this fucking city, and you were willing to pay a high price to get out. Everywhere you looked, your memories were plagued with all that happened with Beau and the rest of the GCPD. His words remained a constant echo in your mind, gnawing at your soul, ripping it to shreds. Ripping it right from your marrow and stabbing into your very flesh. When you closed your eyes, you saw his smug face. In the dead of night, you heard his voice. Saw Archer’s dead eyes staring back at you. The brand on your skin was still healing, and you itched at the skin around it almost absent-mindedly, like a new bad habit. A habit you couldn’t shake.

This decision hadn’t come lightly. You’d spent hours thinking about what you could do, how you could just get out of Gotham and leave everything behind. The truth was that you needed a fresh start. You need something else – something but the pain and agony rippling through you. Something more than the suffering, more than the pain. You didn’t know what you were going to do, or what Metropolis had in store, but getting out of here…it was the only thing you knew what to do right now. The only thing you wanted.

Edward didn’t know. He couldn’t know. You’d written him a letter and dropped it off at the GCPD, and asked for the receptionist to deliver it to him. By the time he read and came looking for you, you would be long gone. And he couldn’t follow you out of the city, not without risking his parole. He would be made. He would be furious…but he wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t he? He knew what you’d been through, seen it with his own two eyes. He had to understand…but he didn’t have a choice. You’d made your choice.

Tears pricked your eyes, but you blinked them away, squeezing your eyes shut as you shivered against the cold. Where was the damn bus? It should’ve been here by now. Should’ve—

“Detective.”

His voice.

Your eyes snapped open and you turned around in time to find Edward standing there, his eyes wide, his cheeks and nose tinged pink from the chill. Soft flurries of white fell into his hair and onto his shoulders.

“Edward…” you whispered, panic rippling through you. How did he find you?

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his voice rough, eyes narrowed.

“Didn’t you read my note?”

“Of course I did. Every damn word. Twice.” His lips curled back in a scowl. You recognized this look – just how mad he was.

You averted your gaze, a lump forming in your throat, as you glanced both ways down the quiet, still streets. Headlights from passing cars flashed in your eyes.

“It’s not coming,” he said. “I hacked into the bust depot station ad changed the route.”

“What?” you asked, turning back to him. “Why would you do that?”

“And why would you do this?” he demanded, yanking the note out of his pocket, shaking it in his white-knuckled grip. He took a step closer, redness crawling up his throat. “Why would you – I thought – I…” His words trailed off.

“It’s easier this way, Edward,” you said, your voice holding no warmth to it.

He scoffed. “Easier? For who? For you? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re running, my dear.”

“I’m trying to get away from all of this. From Gotham. Don’t you get that?”

“Are you trying to get away from Gotham? Or from me?” he asked, raising his brows.

His words were like a slap in the face. You stepped back, blinking, your lips twisting into a scowl that matched his own…but maybe there was some truth to what he was saying. Some truth to the reality in which you were trying so hard to avoid.

“I…” the words lodged in your throat.

He took a step closer. “Don’t leave me. Not like this.”

The pain in his voice was raw and real. It was full of everything that made your heart shatter into a million pieces, breaking apart and shattering your very soul. Tears welled behind your eyes as your mouth fell agape, all words dying on your tongue.

“Edward…” you murmured. “I can’t stay here. I can’t—”

“Please,” he whispered, his hands shooting out to capture your face in his hands, his skin warm against your cheeks. Tears spilled from your eyes, and he wiped them away.

“Please don’t run away,” he said. “Not from me. Not from this damn city. Please.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, tilting your head slightly into his hand. You’d been so firm in your decision, so adamant about it, so desperate to get out of here and keep everything a secret from Edward – because you still couldn’t look at him. This was the first time you’d seen him in person in weeks, and this was exactly why you’d never wanted to see him in the first place – because seeing him reignited all those feelings inside of you, that aching warmth in your heart.

And now you were questioning everything all over again.

“I can’t,” you whispered, voice trembling.

“Yes, you can,” he pleaded. “You’re strong. You’re not a coward.”

“But I’m so scared,” you whispered. You were terrified of what the future held, of what was going to happen next. It clawed up your throat and made itself known, shedding your skin and burrowing its way inside.

“I know,” he said. “But don’t let your fears control you. Don’t let it consume you.”

“Aren’t you afraid?” you asked, opening your eyes again to find him staring down at you, towering over you, his body heat enveloping you.

“No,” he said. “Not as long as I have you.”

You scoffed under your breath. “I have to go, Edward.”

“No,” he said, firmer this time. “I refuse to let you run.”

You looked away, back at the quiet streets. A thousand questions raced through your mind, but you weren’t sure what to ask of him or how to make sense of this. How were you supposed to move on? To go on after everything that happened? To walk these streets and pretend that nothing happened to you?

You met his gaze, hardened, his jaw set tight. His hands still cupped your face, wiping away the tears that continued to roll down your cheeks. But the longer you stared at him, the more the heartache in your chest only grew. God – this is exactly why you’d never wanted to see him: because standing here with him reignited all of your feelings and reminded you just how much you wanted to stay with him, to stay in the city you called home.

“After everything we’ve been through…why would you do this to me?” he asked.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” you said. “I just—”

“Don’t you get it, detective? How much I care about you? How much I need you in my life?” he asked. “And if you leave, I’ll…” He shook his head, as if he couldn’t get the words out.

You looked away again, words dying on your tongue. His words were a knife in your stomach, twisting and twisting, pulling your soul from your body and stomping on it.

“Detective,” he said again, pulling your eyes to him again. “If you get on that bus, you’re not just leaving Gotham. You’re leaving me. And I cannot sit here and watch you disappear from my life. I won’t let it happen.”

“Edward…”

“I won’t let you run from this. From me. From us,” he said.

Your jaw fell open slightly, your vision blurring from the tears. “But I’m so fucking scared, Edward,” you whispered.

He exhaled a shaky breath, his grip tightening on your face, as if he feared you would slip away the second he let go. His blue eyes burned holes into your own. The soft flurries increased a little, melting on yours and his warm skin.

“I know you’re scared,” he said, his voice unsteady. “I know, because I am, too. Every single day, I wake up terrified that I’ll lose you. That you’ll decide I’m not worthy of you anymore, that one day, you’ll come to your sense and realize I’ve just been a waste of your time. That one day, you’ll wake up and realize you’re better off without me. And now…now you’re proving that fear right.”

Your throat tightened. “Edward…”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, his eyes burning with anger. “You need to listen to me. You need to get it through that thick skull of yours, through that tiny mind I love so much, that if you walk away, if you get on that bus, I swear, I’ll never be the same again.”

“Edward—”

“Listen, detective,” he said again, firmer this time. “Gotham has been nothing but a warzone for me. A place I wanted to prove myself better than the rest of the idiots he walk these streets. A place where I’ve had to run and fight and manipulate to survive. I fought for control, to conquer, to ruin. And then you…” He shook his head, scoffing. “And then you had the audacity to walk into my life. “To make me feel something for you that I’ve never felt for someone else. To make me feel things I didn’t even think I was capable of feeling. And I don’t give one damn about the rest of the city, or the GCPD, or anyone else. You are the only thing I care about.”

His voice dropped into a low whisper. “Detective, I…”

Your breath hitched in your throat, the tears continuing to fall, trembling in his arms now as he pulled you closer, his breath a soft mist against your own skin.

“I don’t know what will become of me if you leave,” he continued after a moment. “I don’t know how I’ll just go on with my sorry, miserable life. You are the only thing that makes my life bearable. The only thing that keeps my reform something I want to work for – to be better for you. If I have to beg, I will. If I have to kneel in this damn snow and swear my life to you, I’ll do it. But please, for the love of God, do not get on that bus. Stay with me. Please.”

The weight of his words crashed over you like a tidal wave. His hands trembled, his breathing grew uneven, as if every part of him clung to you. Like the moment he let go, he would shatter completely, the pieces of him broken all across the snow. His gaze was unwavering, determined, filled with that look you loved so much, his blue eyes only drawing you further and further in. Your chest tightened painfully, like someone was squeezing your heart in their fist. Your own breath hitched in your throat, more tears streaming down your cheeks, which he only wiped away without hesitation.

In the quiet, you heard the deep rumbling of a bus down the road. You finally tore your eyes from his and looked away just in time to see the bus come to a rolling stop by the sign. The doors opened, lights bright and flashing, headlights illuminating the flurries in the snow.

“Please,” Edward whispered again. “Stay. Stay with me.”

His words crackled something to life inside of you, breaking through the walls you’d formed around your fragile heart. He was laying everything out, every vulnerable piece of himself, begging you not to leave…and God, how could you walk away from this? From him?

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to stay here,” you whispered.

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” he said without hesitation.

“You’re impossible, Edward Nigma,” you whispered. “You’re so selfish.”

“Selfish for you,” he replied, his lips curving into that smug smile you loved so much.

You shook your head, but pain rippled through you – but a sob tore from your throat, and before you could think, you threw your arms around him, burying yourself in his warmth. He clutched to you just as tightly, his arms wrapping around you, his breath in your hair, at your cheek, as he trembled against you.

“Please don’t leave,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. “I don’t give a damn about this city. But you…you are the only thing that has ever felt real.”

Your fingers dug into the fabric of his coat, holding onto him like he was a life vest. The bust doors closed as it pulled away, continuing on its route. The ticket in your pocket was meaningless now. Because, deep down, you knew the truth: he had become everything to you. And even though you could leave Gotham, you could never leave him.

And maybe that was enough.

[3llio]

New Limited Time Blog Event!

Being sick sucks.

So in a delirious, fever induced state– you decide to call up one of your good friends!

Do they provide good company and support you with remedies and a good tv show or do they listen to you suffer wearing a mask and gloves from across the room?

AN: Hello! My name is Ellio and I’m starting a tmnt writing blog starting…. (checks wrist and looks at the poorly drawn watch) right now! This is my first time trying something like this but I’m excited to try it out :)

So without further ado let me break this down. Each turtle from the three iterations- 2012, Bayverse, and Rise, will each get their own little short one-shot following the sick prompt above BUT lovely reader, this is where you come in…

Each turtle, while only able to be written for once, will each be written with the addition of a trope and prompt of your own! Once someone sends in an ask with a turtle then that turtle will be no longer available for your requesting! So this is a first come first serve situation!

(ofc I’ll still be open to other requests outside of this event- this is just a little bit of a kick starter in hopes of building this blog)

All the characters with a 1/1 next to their name have been requested and are no longer available for this event. Those that are crossed out have been written and can be read here!

2012

Leo 1/1

Raph 0/1

Donnie 1/1

Mikey 0/1

Bayverse

Leo 0/1

Raph 0/1

Donnie 1/1

Mikey 0/1

Rise

Leo 1/1

Raph 1/1

Donnie 0/1

Mikey 1/1

Just incase this doesn't make sense I’ll include an example.

🦇 Bat right here would like to request 2012 Leo! But Bat will also need an idea that plays into the sick prompt from above! This is what Bat wrote in my inbox to request-

‣ Hi! Can I do 2012 Leo for the sick event? My trope is ‘friends to lovers’ and my prompt would be “you just threw up 3 times, you are not fine!”

I shall include a list of prompts below! Feel free to use your own :p

1. “You okay in there?”

2. “And how long have you been throwing up for?”

3. “I think you're coming down with something…”

4. “I’ll take care of you.”

5. “You sound awful.”

6. “You’ve been like this for how long?”

7. “Just take the tissues.”

8. “You look like shit.”

9. “What do you think you’re doing out of bed?”

10. “Back up. You're all germs right now…”

11. “Hi. I am here to be your nurse.”

12. “Just when I thought you couldn't get any more annoying, you have exceeded my expectations.”

13. “Get your ass back in that bed.”

14. “Please don't make that noise ever again.”

15. “When you said you were sick I thought you meant a cold- not the freaking plague!”

16. “Please stop wasting whats left of your voice on complaints about soup you can't even taste.”

17. “I’m no doctor but I'm pretty sure you need to get medical attention.”

18. “Your voice sounds like rocks scraping against sandpaper.”

19. “You need rest.”

20. “You’ve been sick for how long? And you didn't say anything because?”

[ceilidho]

okay you opened a can of worms by inviting me to share my thoughts but i'm spewing this jumbled mess into your inbox.

i don't know why the fallout price cult leader got the worms WIGGLING as much as they did but it's so, so brilliant. because cults are so, so sneaky. there's a reason why people join them, or are born into them, and never ever leave. they're charismatic. kind. they make the weird acceptable in ways most others wouldn't. like i mentioned before, out of the frying pan and into the fire; except you don't fully realize you're on fire.

price's vault runs so smoothly that no one would ever expect anything sinister because all the inhabitants are completely content, if not thrilled with their lives. they welcome you with open arms, which is much needed and extremely missed after not having real human contact for x amount of time due to distancing because of the sickness that ravaged your old home.

oh god, and new breeding stock? i just know that if you make a comment about it, unsure if they're joking, they pass it off as an archaic term. it's your strong genes. you survived a plague, didn't you? if you eventually choose to wed and have children, it'll strengthen the population. that's it. don't think too hard about it.

but all it is is fucking mind games. they have to rewire your brain if you'll ever be an upstanding citizen of the vault. everything is completely normal, especially the things that make you uncomfortable. it's how they get you. how they hook you in and never let you go. and hell, if they can't train you? good on Mr. Price, our Overseer, to take in such a wreck of a woman. he truly is our good leader, setting such a wild thing straight.

it's like if midsommar and fallout had a fucking child and i'm so here for it. i think this will rot me from the inside out for a few days.

but also the idea of raider!johnny just. fuckin covered in blood after slaughtering the band of raiders for ever dare insinuating that you were anything but his is also hot as fuck. i do love my men feral and disgusting.

omg I forgot to post this the other day because I read it as I was falling asleep but holy shit……please write this I beg of you 😫 sometimes I look back at the way Price spoke to Gaz in MW1, the subtle manipulation of it all, and god. He’d make such a good cult leader.