#I'm going to weep in a corner now

[reginrokkr]

The way this beautiful art here wrecks me and the reminder that indeed, Dain must’ve had his own statue in Khaenri’ah’s royal palace—

[dvlboy]

coaxing | MDNI

you'll coax his voice out one way or another.

his voice was like sweet honey, the sweetest of sounds in melodic harmonies. and you were determined to crack into the heaven through any means necessary.

your boyfriend was a man of few words, a silent figure in the room that often scares those around him. yet that never stopped you from pursuing him, and it paid off in leaps and bounds.

you grabbed his wrist covering his mouth, harshly tugging it above his sweaty face making him yelp, "there's no way i'm letting you hide your pretty voice." the poor man looked like he was about to pass out, his brain too melted and fucked out to try and save his pride, to save the embarrassing noises from leaking out of those pretty lips of his, to save some of his dignity. in his eyes it was humiliating moaning like a whore in heat, in your eyes it was a reward that you worked so hard to get.

"don't resist it love, let it all out.." you kissed his sweaty bare chest, knuckles fisting the sheets while you buried yourself into his messy, slick hole. it was like an addiction, the need to hear his slutty moans, his tired whines, his pretty noises made you push through the fatigue, the soreness of your hips. it was almost like each time he squealed when you plunged into him gave you energy, each time he cried out for you gave you motivation, an endless cycle until his voice gave out.

"i-i can-i can't..!" his voice quivered, his feverish hands finding your chest, hands weakly trying to push you away. "t-too much.. too much..!" crocodile tears filled his eyes, the pleasure and pain too much for him to comprehend. "you can take it.." your smooth voice pissed him off, even though it was thinly veiled overstimulation. it wasn't fair how you managed to have so much stamina, so much energy to keep going.

"you've always been able to take it.. now keep singing my name love.." you grinned at him once more, grabbing his hands and pinning them down, holding him down to fuck him. if you buck your hips hard, you could see how his stomach distended lightly, the shape of your cock bulging his belly. "hey love, can you feel that?" you did it once more, your boyfriend throwing his head back, a long drawn out moan leaving his swollen lips. "can you feel my cock bulge your belly? can you feel me fuck you open?" you kissed his face, peppering kisses onto his tear stained face, licking them away. his body was like putty, and even when you pulled your arms away from his wrists, he didn't have any energy to change positions or try to hide his moans.

"don't tire out on me now love, not when i'm doing all this work for you." a sweaty grin was on your face, his voice flowing freely from his lips. you stuffed your face into the corner of his neck, snuggling closer to him to inhale his scent and hear the vibrations of his sound, before going over to his adams apple and grazing it with your teeth, enjoying how you could feel the vibrations on your teeth from his moans.

the edges of his vision were blurry, and his throat was so sore and dry from being so used, not used to so much activity. his brain could only think of you, how big you were, how you smelt, and he was utterly a mess. he could feel yet another orgasm coming, hands weakly trying to scramble your hands away from his weeping cock. "you can handle it, right love? my little songbird.." you coo'd out, stroking his pretty cock, watching him weakly tremble and shake, his voice freeflowing. you yourself were getting dangerously close to orgasm, chasing that high inside of him when suddenly his moans got louder, weaker and more erratic.

your hips burned and your toes curled as you felt yourself cum inside of him, hands iron gripped onto his sides as you spilled your cum once more into your used hole, listening to your boyfriends noises. how he squealed when he came, how his cum splattered weakly on his stomach, how he groaned when he felt you cum again inside of him.

"such a pretty voice my love.. my love?" you paused, seeing him dead asleep on the bed, passed out from your relentless pounding, evidence of sex all over him. maybe you coaxed him a bit too hard, but you'd do it again.

APHELIOS, AONE, BARBATOS, XIAO, GETO + ur favourites

ngl just testing the waters of writing again el o el

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

I have a couple requests that I'm currently writing right now so while you guys wait, here's a little something to snack on. Enjoy😉

What's For Dinner

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — Jude come home and fucks you in the kitchen

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Jude Bellingham x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 2.9k

Warnings! NSFW! SMUT (18+), unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, the slightest pussy slap, kitchen sex, multiple orgasms, dom!Jude, sub!reader.

"Fuck, baby" Jude pants right into your pussy making you whimper. "Am I making you feel good?."

You nod. Not that he could see from where he had his face buried in your cunt. 

You're sprawled, spread out on the kitchen counter like a decadent meal as your boyfriend ate you out. His tongue flickered in and out of your folds opening you up. 

When you don't answer him, he slows down his movements making you whine in need. He lifts his head to look at you through hooded eyes and gently smacks his palm down on your clit.

"Answer me," he warns, his hand snaking up to squeeze your breast through your(his) shirt. His other hand slowly dips into your heat. You can't help the moan that escapes from your lips. His tongue licks at his lips which are shiny from your juices as he watches your face. "Tell me you like it." He whispers seductively as he rubs your swollen nub. 

You can't help the way your back arches off the counter as he slips one then two fingers in your hole. "I like it," You gasp out. "Please, Jude, please don't stop." You beg him. 

He gives you a devilish smirk as he bends down takes your clit in his mouth sucking hard and bites down softly. You nearly come undone right there.

It was Saturday night and you were supposed to be making dinner. Jude had just come home from a long day of training. All he wanted was to go home, eat and cuddle with his girl.

But you had to fuck him up.

There you were standing in front of the stove, hips swaying to the song you had playing on the speaker. Not noticing his tall figure behind you completely unaware. Torturously reminding him of the heaven between your legs. Taunting him with the tight wet heat it promised. 

He felt himself grow hard at the thought of it. At the thought of wrecking you on that kitchen counter. His dick was already aching and weeping at the chance to be inside of you. 

You were sautéing the vegetables when you felt strong arms wrap around your waist from behind. The familiar scent of his cologne enveloped you, a blend of cedarwood and vanilla that always brought a smile to your lips.

His breath was warm against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine despite the heat radiating from the stove.

"Smells amazing," he rasped, pressing his hips into your back allowing you to feel his already growing bulge. You jump at his touch not hearing him come in but then relaxed in his hold.

"Jude!" you laughed, turning around to face him. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief, and his grin was impossibly charming, the kind that could melt even the sternest resolve. "You scared me," you scolded lightly, though the warmth in your voice betrayed any real annoyance.

"Did I?" he murmurs, his lips brushing lightly against your ear. The sensation sends another shiver through you, and you feel a warmth pooling in your panties.

You tilt your head slightly, giving him better access, and he takes the invitation gladly. His kisses trail from your ear down to the curve of your neck, each one making it harder to concentrate on the task at hand.

His fingers danced along your waist, tracing the curve of your hip before sliding up under your shirt to rest on your stomach. "What are you making?" he asks, his voice low and husky, sending another wave of warmth through you that had nothing to do with the cooking.

You turned slightly, catching a glimpse of his face out of the corner of your eye. The way his dark eyes glimmered with affection made your heart skip a beat. "your favorite," His hands moved higher, gently grazing your ribs, causing you to squirm.

"Yeah? This all for me?" His breath is warm against your neck, lips grazing your neck.

It wasn't long until he had you on the counter feasting on your pussy instead. Slurping up your juices and reducing you to a sobbing mess. Desecrating your kitchen, your eating place with your wet warm slick. Something that would disgust a decent person but just turned him on and spurred him to dig deeper with his tongue. 

This was all your fault really. How could he resist you, in the kitchen covered in hickeys, the ones he had left on you this morning, wearing only his shirt and your panties.

His chest swelled with pride knowing that he was the one who had done this to you. His sweet innocent girlfriend. He loved ruining you for anyone else. Loved the fact that he was the only one to have. To see you like this.

Jude fucking loved it.

Seeing the evidence of his work on display on your soft squishy body drivng him crazy since he walked through the door, until he couldn't take it anymore.

He had to have you. Wanted to take you again immediately but no. Not right now.

Right now he was going to finish his meal first.

So here you were, legs spread on the kitchen counter as you rode his face letting out the sweetest noises and singing his praises. Letting him defile you with his deft and sinful tongue. You moaned, a broken desperate sound grinding your hips against his mouth seeking more pleasure.

Jude lapped up your juices eagerly, his hands gripping your ass to keep you in place as he feasted on your cunt. "Oh God," You gasp out. "Oh fuck." You groan louder, "Jude." The way your voice trembles made him groan in pleasure, his cock twitching with the need to get inside of you. His thumb found its way back to your clit circling it over and over again.

"Baby, baby, baby." You chant out, your hands tangling in his coily hair. Your hips moving on their own accord riding his tongue like the best ride in the world. He hums into your cunt and your vision goes blurry as pleasure shoots through you, your orgasm making you feel weightless. You feel yourself fall but Jude holds you tight keeping you close.

"Good girl," he praises you as you come down from your high. He lifts his head to look at you with a satisfied smile on his lips. He knew he could make you feel good. He knew what you needed.

Jude smirks at you, his eyes glinting in the kitchen lighting. Your juices glistened on his chin and he licked it off without missing a beat, savoring your taste. His fingers left you with a satisfied pop, and he wipes them clean on his shorts.

God, you wanted him so bad. Deep inside you.

And he was more than happy to oblige straightening himself and pulling out his dick. 

Jude stroked himself a few times slicking his member up with your slick. His dick was aching having been neglected for the whole day. It was hard as a rock with a bead of pre-cum forming at the tip. He rubbed it in, coating the head in your cum.

He leaned over to you, your legs still open and wrapped around him, pulling you closer to him. His eyes looked deep into yours as he positioned himself at your entrance. He grinned, the smile on his face making you melt into a puddle.

"I can't wait to fuck this pussy." He says, rubbing his tip on your clit. Gathering some of your wetness on last time before slowly pushing in. Jude moaned as he slid in, inch by delicious inch.

You cry out in shock, your body stretching to accommodate his size. Your cunt is dripping and ready for him and he slides in easily. You're so fucking wet for him.

You arch your back into his touch. "Yes, Jude. Please." You beg him as you grip his shoulders tightly. Your nails digging into his skin as you cling to him.

It took all his concentration and willpower not to cum right then and there. He took a moment to let you both get used to the stretch before carefully pulling out till only the tip remained before slamming back inside.

"Oh fuck baby! You're so tight, so warm. So wet." His voice was full of awe. "You're so fucking perfect." He praised as he continued to move. His movements slow and languid, savoring the feel of your tight walls around him. The way he had you pinned between the counter and his body. The way he could control your pleasure.

He sped up his thrusts, hitting all the right spots as he fucked you senseless. Your moans were music to his ears and he revelled in it. He grunted with every thrust, pushing deeper inside of you. His breathing was heavy as he fucked you into the counter. The sounds of skin slapping and your moans filled the air.

He took you like that on the kitchen counter. Taking you with rough, hard thrusts until he had you screaming for him, until your screams echoed through the house. Your fingers digging into his back as your legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer to you.

You made all sorts of sweet noises, moaning your ass off not worried about being heard. Jude thrilled at that. Hearing you let loose without a care in the world and his chest swelled with delight. 

He drilled your sweet hole, slowing down his thrusts to grind your walls before changing the pace up again and pounding you hard. It drove you crazy and he loved seeing his girl going wild with pleasure like this especially when it added to his as well. 

"Baby," he panted. "Tell me how how much you love my cock!"

You tried to answer but your words kept getting interrupted by his fierce thrusts. "Ju-Jude! I love-love it!"

Jude moaned and bent down to kiss your pretty little mouth luxuriating in their softness and the beautiful sounds that spilled from them. 

You were so fucking sexy. 

The love of his life, lying beneath him all soft and pliant, all for him. All his. So sinfully sweet and deplorably thirsty for his dick. Canting your hips so he slipped deeper inside you and begging both with your body and mouth for more.

More of him. For him to bury deeper inside and burst you full with his cum. How could he ever get enough of you when you acted like this every time you had sex. How could he ever resist your temptations when you looked this beautiful spread out beneath him.

No wonder he hadn't stopped fucking you ever since your first time.

He fucked you so good. Fucking your tight cunt, taking you like an animal in heat. He fucked you so hard you could feel him in your stomach, your soul. You're so fucking full of him. His cock was so hard and hot inside you, filling you up.

He was fucking you like a whore, using your body for his pleasure. And you loved every moment of it. Every second he had your legs up, pounding your pussy. You're a mess, completely ruined.

"I'm gonna cum, Jude. I'm cumming." You gasp out, your hands running down his back, nails digging into his skin, leaving your mark. Jude groaned, his movements becoming more frantic as you tightened around his cock, your orgasm starting to wash over you.

"Fuck! Baby!" Jude cursed as your pussy clenched around him. Your muscles contracting around his dick, milking him for everything he had. The sensation was so strong it nearly knocked him over the edge.

You moaned out in pleasure, your body limp as you rode your orgasm out. Your body shuddering with pleasure, your pussy twitching around him. Jude looked at you in awe.

God he loved you so much. He loved the way your body responded to him. The way you were putty in his hands, giving him the power to bring you to heights of pleasure. The way you clung to him as your body shook with ecstasy.

"Shit baby," He grunts out, his movements becoming jerky. "You're making me cum." He groans as his orgasm builds up in him. His hands are holding your ass tighter, pulling you closer to him. The way he had you pinned against the counter made it impossible for you to move.

He was deep inside you, his balls slapping against your ass. His eyes never left yours as he fucked you through his orgasm. His breathing heavy, his mouth hanging open. Your pussy twitched around his dick milking him of all his cum. He shuddered in your hold.

"Ah fuck, sweetheart. You're so good." His voice was rough from his climax. His thrusts slow down as he empties his seed deep inside of you. You moaned out in pleasure at the feeling of his hot cum filling you up.

"Jude." You whimpered as you felt yourself getting filled with his seed. He was so hot, so thick and it felt like it was going to spill out of you any moment. His dick twitched inside you, his cock still hard and full even after emptying himself inside of you.

He was still rock-hard and still pumping away at your pussy. Your head fell back and you arched your back into his touch, pushing your breasts closer to him. He obliged, taking a nipple in his mouth sucking gently.

"Jude!" You gasp out. "It feels too good." You mewl, trying to push him away but he's too strong. His hands grip you tight. "Too sensitive." You whine. "Stop! Please."

"You can't take it?" He whispers, licking his lips. "You can't take my big dick, baby?" His voice is low and husky.

You can feel his dick twitch inside you at his words. Your pussy spasms in response to his taunts and he grunts out in pleasure.

Jude thrusts a few more times, his movements becoming languid before slowly pulling out of you. You whimper as his dick slides out of you, his seed following suit. He pulls back to look at you. Your legs still open for him. Your cunt on full display. A mess of our juices mixed together.

You looked beautiful like this. Spread out on the counter, a mess from his lovemaking. His eyes travel down to your pussy, taking in the sight of his cum leaking out of your hole. Your pussy was stretched out and red from his pounding. He grins at the sight.

"Fuck," he whispers, his voice full of awe. "Look at that." You follow his gaze to your cunt. It's still dripping from your orgasm. Jude pulls you closer, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He held you as you both come down and you wrap your arms around him happy to be held.

Once he calmed down he kissed you deeply and passionately and you responded just as eagerly. You kind of stay there making out lazily for awhile before you remembered about dinner.

Placing one more soft peck on your lips, Jude set you down, grinning as you wobble on your feet. "What a welcome," he laughs as he takes you in his arms, nuzzling your neck. "I think I'm going to like coming home more often." You slap him on the chest laughing at his antics and he gives you a goofy grin before kissing you again.

The kitchen smelled like sex. You were covered in sweat and cum. Your thighs sticky from his release. You're sore but you can't help but feel satisfied. It's been a while since he's taken you this rough, this wild. You missed it.

"Are you okay? Was I too rough?" Jude asks, his expression turning serious.

You shake your head. "No. It was perfect." You assure him, smiling softly.

He gives you a sheepish grin, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "Good." He kisses you once more.

You sigh happily, content. "I love you," you whisper as he continues to pepper kisses on your neck.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he responds, his voice low and husky. "Now come on." He laughs as he lets you go. "Let's get you cleaned up?" In one swift movement you were back in his arms, bridal style. "And then I'll finish dinner."

You squeal as you're picked up. "I'm supposed to cook tonight, babe!" You laugh.

"Ah, but you were otherwise occupied," Jude retorts. "Besides, I want to take care of you tonight." You melt at his words. How could you resist him? "Plus you deserve a break." He says as he heads out the door. "You've had a long day too." He smirks at the last words, remebering this morning and what you just did.

You laugh, hitting him on the chest. "Stop it." You're blushing, burying your head into his neck.

"How did I get so lucky?" He asks, his voice filled with reverence above you

You smile agaisnt his skin. "You didn't." Your words come out slightly muffled, placing a soft kiss on his neck. "I'm the lucky one." And you were lucky to have him. Lucky to be loved and cherished by him. He was the best boyfriend in the world. And you were going to make sure he knows it.

"I'm not complaining," Jude smirks at you before giving you a quick peck on the lips. "Alright, let's get you cleaned up." He bounces you up a bit in his arms making you squeal with laughter. Melting his heart. "Or else we'll be having takeout for dinner." He smiles down at you one last time before bolting upstairs.

-Bianca🌻

[siscon-stsg]

hi, feral Satoru is jealous of his mom from his father and fucks her to remind her whom she belongs to <33

(CW: inc*st, toru is jellyyyyy. very jelly. a bit toxic actually. obsessed even!! nt* i guess? is it nt* or just cheating? idk. D*B/CON. mommy k*nk. whiney toru as always. is this ex*ibitio*ism? facef*ck*ng...literally; satoru mounts reader's face JKAJAK. ed*ing, tea*ing, overs*im, marking/hickeys, p*ssydrunk toru, creampie, implied br**ding k*nk, )

EDIT: SHIT I JUST REALIZED YOU SAID "FERAL" NAUURRR. Imma write one with feral Satoru for you baby, I'm sorry!! (this is why you don't write when you're tired bois)

ANON YOUR BRAIN ANON. YOU'RE SO----- are you a kenjaku kinnie? cuz all i see is one big brain i can make out with /jjk rizz/ ~BLOSSOM

JEALOUS BABY!TORU who loves you lots. probably way more than a son should love his mom but whatever, right? it's not like he's done anything weird yet! he's just be a tad more clingy than the usual man is to his mother but that's okay!

JEALOUS BABY!TORU who's always tried everything to get your attention on him him him, only him. he's your pretty boy, right? the only one you should look at and love cuz no one is going to be better than him anyway!

JEALOUS BABY!TORU who has the attention of all the clan, the girls and boys he could ask for. but none of them are you, his mama.

JEALOUS BABY!TORU who hates when you have to attend clan matters that involve other men. he hates when you give attention to other men, period!

JEALOUS BABY!TORU who saw, one night, how is father was with you on the kitchen after dinner. his father rubbed your hip, mumbled something to you that made you chuckle bashfully, and gave you a cheeky little squeeze before leaving the room.

JEALOUS BABY!TORU whose temper flared and he realized this couldn't go on any longer, he wouldn't let him steal away his mama's attention anymore!

JEALOUS BABY!TORU who waits until you're asleep, then sneaks into your room at night.

JEALOUS BABY!TORU who wakes you up with soft kissies and whispers. who caresses you with all the love and attention and praise he'd never give any other human being. he searches every soft spot, every place that gets you squirmy, hot and bothered before he's even slid his hands under your clothes.

“mamaaa, wake up,” he'd mumble, pressing slow kisses right under your ear that got you gasping. his hips made a faint rustling sound as he ground them against your clothed heat, already hard and staining his pjs. “i need youuu...!”

JEALOUS BABY!TORU who'd stroke his cock over your face, straddling your chest and cornering your head against the pillow. who'd rub the leaky tip all over your cheeks and lips, choking on his breath to not wake up his dad sleeping next to you.

JEALOUS BABY!TORU who uses your face to get off. keeping a heavy but gentle hand on your scalp, rubbing his throbbing dick against you with slow sways of his hips.

JEALOUS BABY!TORU who says: “m-mommy, isn't my cock the prettiest? much prettier than his?”

JEALOUS BABY!TORU who makes himself jealous just thinking about you and his dad being together, and gives you a few smack smack smack slaps on your cheek with his weeping cock that make him whimper more than you.

JEALOUS BABY!TORU who makes you bury your moans in the pillow as he mounts you from behind.

JEALOUS BABY!TORU who whimpers in your ear. his arms tremble as he holds you by the waist, snug and tight against his chest, hips moving in an excruciatingly slow pace.

JEALOUS BABY!TORU who ends up edging and teasing himself, because he wants to fuck you so hard until you scream but his stupid dad is next to you. he steals glances now and then just to make sure he's still asleep, sometimes giving in and thrusting with enough force to make you jump on the bed a bit.

JEALOUS BABY!TORU who growls from having to hold himself back, whose sweaty, toned chest presses against your arched back and makes you shiver.

JEALOUS BABY!TORU who feels his ego rise to a thousand when you're melting like goo underneath him: drooling and eye-rolling on his cock that touches your sweet spots so good because it touches everything.

“y'r mine, mama, mine!” he mumbles, muffling his moans into the skin of your neck he sucks and nips on without a care in the world.

JEALOUS BABY!TORU who doesn't think your relationship with his dad is even worth hiding the hickeys he's leaving on your skin. you'd be much better with him anyways!

“aww, mommy looks s'cute! you're drooling all over the pillow,” he'd tease into your ear. “y'won' wan' no one's cock 'ver again, right? right, mama? jus' me? me, me, me?”

JEALOUS BABY!TORU who quickens the pace just enough to where he can't stop moaning, and he has to bite your shoulder gently but consistently not to moan out loud.

JEALOUS BABY!TORU who doesn't shut up as his orgasm approaches.

JEALOUS BABY!TORU who's a babbling, incoherent mess, pussy-drunk so hard he doesn't even care if your squelching is too loud or if his pelvis makes too much noise when bashing against your ass.

JEALOUS BABY!TORU who cums so much it's a wet, creamy, liquid mess on the sheets. who stays glued to you, grinding his hips as he just keeps moaning into your ear, like his orgasm just wouldn't stop peaking.

“mommy so good... m-mommy's all mine... won't share, not my pussy...” he'd say, sneaking a hand underneath you to rub meaningfully at your tummy.

JEALOUS BABY!TORU whose breath hitches when he hears a faint, groggy grunt of your name from the other side of the bed.

[barleyo]

BARELYYYYY write another daddy Leon fic, AND MY LIFE WILL BE YOURSSS

867-5309.

Real Dad! Leon Kennedy X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: this fic is shitty and short, sorry ^_^ i literally have no drive or desire to write anymore, idk what's going on with me. probably some type of brain worm! but i thought i should at least try to get something written :3 (ily whoever knows what song the title is referencing)

Tags: incest (daddy-daughter), phone sex, age gap (21 and 50-ish), mutual masturbation, no actual sex, idk dude i'm not sure what i was going for with this

Wordcount: 719

!!! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT/DARK CONTENT !!!

"Little note wasn't lying," Leon said into his phone, sitting in his car near the back of the bar's mostly empty parking lot. "What's this about a good time, doll?"

It was too late for him to be out like this. Too late for him to be this far from sober. Too late for him to be calling some random number that was stuck to the urinal partition. And, of course, it was much too late for him to be this horny.

"Depends," a voice, your voice, spoke on the line. "What kinda night is it, mister?"

Thank god he was drunk, or else he would've heard right through your overly sensual, fake tone. Thank god you were stupid, or else you would've known it was him right from the sleazy nicknames he used.

"Tonight?" 

Dirty fucking man. His hands were practically already in his pants. Roughly palming at himself over his tented jeans to the sound of some mystery broad's voice. 

"It's a real good night, babydoll. I think you could make it better though." He pulled his zipper down, cock pulsating desperately. 

You giggled on the other line, absolutely drowning in the sudden flush of attention. That's why you slipped the damn sticky note with your burner's number into the men's room all those nights ago, hoping some horned up man old enough to be your dad would ring your line and validate you. Little did you know, that man would truly be your dad. 

"Sounds like you could use it. I don't mind 'chatting' for a bit," you said, hand finding its way all over your body. "Tell me, y'touching yourself already?"

"To a voice like yours? Of course I am."

Leon freed himself from the confines of his pants, eyes shifting anxiously as he looked around the sparse parking lot. He was a grown man, he'd jerked off to hotlines and voices on the phone all the time. In public, though? New territory completely. 

He squeezed his shaft, feeling it pulse in his hand. Thing had a heartbeat of its own at that point as it practically begging to catch some friction and relief. 

"Glad you called," you said, sliding your panties off while you spoke. You tossed them in the corner of your room mindlessly. "I've been waiting for someone to find that little note."

Leon opened his mouth to respond when he heard a soft moan escape your mouth. That was enough for him to start. He wanted to take it slow, to enjoy himself, but who was he kidding? He was a needy fucker and he wanted to cum ASAP. 

"What'cha doing right now?" he was finally able to ask, swallowing thickly as he pumped his length. "Using those cute fingers, doll?"

You hummed through an over exaggerated moan, dramatizing and putting on a show for your 'mystery man.' 

"Sure am," you said, finger curled, reaching your g-spot the best you could with the limited length it had. "But it's not as good as the real thing."

He could practically hear the pout in your voice, and it drove him crazy. You sounded like a bratty little baby, just his type. 

"Awh, aren't you a poor thing? Bet some older cock would do you good, huh?" 

He heard the squelch of your cunt through the phone speaker. It picked up the sound of your palm hitting your clit, and the little gasps of air you let out each time you slammed your fingers in.

"Guess so." You bit your bottom lip, holding back an excited squeal at his words. "You offering?" 

Leon chuckled dryly, watching the tip of his cock weep with pre as he stroked himself. "Oh, someone's eager. Sure," he said, amused smirk on his face as he started to near his climax, hand still working furiously over his cock. "I'm offering. I could use a cute thing like you, anyway. It'll be much better than just hearing ya through the phone."

"We'll see about that," you teased, phone clicking off of the line just as he started to cum. 

(XXX)-867-5309: *sent location* 

(XXX)-867-5309: pull up ;)

Wait, that address? That was his house...

"Fuck."

Leon's head fell back on the car seat headrest, brain going a mile a minute. Hand still covered in stray spurts of cum.

"Fuck!"

[spankedquail]

Dead Phone = Spanking

My phone ran out of batteries the last night, before a concert out with my girl friends. I texted him with my friend's phone, telling him what had happened. He replied and thanked us for letting him know.

Today, I was punished for it.

I knelt in front of him on the hardwood, stripped naked like I always am for punishments. Hands behind my neck, elbows out, eyes on his face.

"You need to pay more attention to how much battery you have left. When your phone dies, I can't check your location and make sure that you're safe. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"What will you do to prevent this from happening in the future?"

"I can check my phone's battery a few hours before I go out, sir."

A firm slap to my cheek, leaving it stinging. My eyes stung with the first tears of the night. "You said 'can' when I think you meant 'will'. Want to try again?"

"I will check my phone's battery a few hours before I go out, sir."

"Good girl. What else?"

"I will bring an extra battery pack with me when I go out, sir. I will make sure to keep that charged in case of emergencies, sir."

"Better. What do you think will happen if you forget again?"

"I'll get a spanking, sir."

"That, and you'll lose your privileges." Daddy is generous with me; I'm usually allowed to do whatever I want with my friends. But going out is something he can revoke at any point. It is a privilege now, not a right.

"Yes, sir."

"Alright. Get over my knee."

I got a taste of the wooden paddle for this lesson. He worked methodically, paddling me up and down my bottom, to the top of my thighs (which made me squeal), turning my backside a bright red.

I had to work hard to keep my cheeks loose, the way he expects. Clenching earns me thigh paddling as a warning, and repeated offenses escalate from a harder, longer, session with the corrective instrument at hand, or another additional punishment altogether, with a more fearsome option.

Eventually the tears came. He continued paddling my sore bottom until I was openly weeping, laying meekly across his lap. My punishments are usually around 20-30 minutes long, and my bottom is crimson with dusty white marks by the end of it. A regular red bottom is for maintenance; he takes correction seriously.

. . .

After corner time, he ordered me to my knees again. We often "complete" a correction with me providing oral service until he finishes in my throat. It's a way for me to show my gratitude for his correction, and to use my mouth, lips, tongue, and throat to express that I've learned my lesson.

I'm expected to keep my eyes on him as much as I can, even as I lap as his balls until I'm allowed to make my way back to his cock, depending on his mood. It's a very submissive act, and a powerful one.

From Spanking Your Wife, a great blog on domestic discipline:

The physical nature of her fellating him is fitting to the time after her correction. She shows her husband her natural position before him by kneeling. She shows her openness to his command and his teaching by stretching open physically for him. She receives his member as she receives his will. She shows her desire to serve him by focusing on pleasuring him completely.  These aspects of pleasuring he man express in action what she probably has expressed verbally during the spanking — her submission to him, and the reverence she has for his headship. Those words are quickly being put into action on her knees.

[asimpforthe80s]

You're getting railed when we come home..

Starring: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, use of vibrating dildo, Eddie being angry

- - - - - - - - - ♡

- - - - - - - - - ♡

You're in the passenger seat of Eddies car, casually scrolling through your phone when Eddie snatches it away from you and throws it in the backseat. Your eyes widen in shock. "What the hell?!" You ask him. "Don't 'what the hell' me." He spat, giving you a swift glance then refocused on the road. "What was that?" He asked. "What? You say. "At the restaurant." He snapped. "I saw the way you two looked at each other, I'm not an idiot, okay? That's Steve, for fucks sake." You slump in your seat, uninterested in the conversation.

Your boyfriend was way too overprotective. "Y/N, I'll flip this fucking car upside down and kill us both, sit up properly." He demanded. "No." You spat, crossing your arms. Without hesitation, Eddie increased the speed on the highway. You watch as he races other drivers. He was a reckless driver. "Slow down." You request. "Sit up." He answered. You curse beneath your breath, swallow your pride, and sit up properly. "Happy?" You said. Slowly, he drives back to the normal speed limit. "You're getting railed when we get home." He muttered.

-

As Eddie parks the car, you run up to the doorway, unlock the door, and run up to your room, locking the door. Relieved, you sit on the edge of your bed when you hear the doorknob rattle and unlock. Eddie enters the room and pins you to your bed. "Awww~ don't think that I forgot my promise, princess." You look away, and he forces you to look back at him. His face is inches away from yours.

He picks you up and throws you onto the bed. "Don't move," he says. "Or what?" You reply. "I'm pretty sure you know damn well what would happen." Embarrassed, your face turns into a burning red. "Now, don't move," Eddie says. You obey and don't move as Eddie rummaged around the house for some 'tools'. He comes back with some rope and a vibrating dildo. He tells you to get changed and hands you a bag from Victoria's secret. When you come back, Eddie ties your ankles and wrists so you can't move, and shoves the dildo into your weeping cunt. "If you make a single sound, I'll make this much worse." He threatens. He grabs the remote and turns the vibrating part of the dildo on max speed. Tears sting in the corner of your eyes as you try not to make a sound. But you can't go any longer as your voice let's out a small whimper.

Eddie hears your whimper and turns off the vibrator, roughly taking the dildo out of your pussy. "Aww, princess~ looks like I have to punish you now." You shake your head and let out a whimpers of protest, but he covers your mouth and unties your wrists and ankles. He undresses himself and pins you to the bed once more. Nervous, you look away. Eddie chuckles and shoves his fat cock into your cunt with a squelch. You begin to moan, making Eddie speed up his thrusts. As he goes faster your moans get louder. He pulls out as he remembers that this is supposed to be a punishment and you say, "please, baby~ keep going.."

Eddie replies, "My name isn't baby or Eddie. Try again."

"My love?" You try.

He shakes his head. "Nope."

With a reddened face, you answer, "daddy..?"

He smirks, "Good job, baby." He replies seductivley. "Pick a number from one to ten." He says, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "Uhn.. five..?" You say, sounding uncertain. "Ohoh, you're in for a treat, darling." He chuckles and shoves five fingers into your waiting cunt. You tried to squirm away as he swirled them around. He took his fingers out, wiping them off on your clit. Almost immediately, you cum. Embarrassed, you whisper, "da- daddy, I'm cumming~" Eddie smirks once more and replies. "Perfect. Get on your hands and knees, darling." He went over to the bedside drawer as you got into position.

He grabs a pair of handcuffs and cuffs you. He started licking your cum off of your thighs, slowly working himself up to your cunt. Starting to moan uncontrollably, you warn him that you're gonna cum again. His thumb finds your clit as his tongue starts thrusting in and out of your entrance. As you got down from your high, he orders you to sir in front of your desk chair as he sits down. You obey and position yourself in between his thighs. Eddie cups your jaw and brings your mouth to his cock and you immediately start sucking him off. Eddie grabs a small chunk of your hair, stilling your motions as he starts thrusting himself into your mouth, soon pushing as deep down as he can, cumming in long, white ropes. Exhausted, you swallow his cum, and he gently guides you back to your bed, taking off the handcuffs. You lie down and hug the pillow close. Eddie sighs and gets in with you, making you let go of the pillow and snuggle up to him instead.

[iamnotdeadyet]

God I loved that yan!playboy you did! If you could, can I please get another one, this one where the reader is fully aware of what he's doing and is just leading them on, until they finally let him back into their life and get back together? I'm a huge sucker for exes getting back together and growing as people, but this one has a lil evil twist ;)

Glad you liked it! I loved writing this sm♥︎♥︎

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

What if's

Pt.2

You knew. You always knew.

Yan!playboy!ex who is oblivious to the fact that you knew about his little break in's.

Yan!playboy!ex who felt like luck was on his side every time you wear less and less clothing while sleeping when i fact, it was all your doing. You knew about his him coming into your dorm at night, knew about how he jerked off right there and then if he even caught a glimpse of your shown skin.

It wasnt his fault his pants got too tight and he had a boner that bordered on painful! And you certainly werent complaining either. The broken whimpers and slick sound of his hand running up and down his swollen cock or even better-of his fingers pumping in and out of his ass.

Yan!playboy!ex who doesnt know youre quite aware of how his body reacts to your praises. Unbeknownst to him, you knew about his raging boner that showed up right after you called him a simple "Good boy" out of habit, or that you knew about how he had to go to the bathroom to relieve some tension off his weeping dick even though he already came in his pants moments before.

Yan!playboy!ex who was sure you didn't know about how he was the one to kill your boyfriend,when in fact, you did. And while it did sadden/detach you from him at first...you forgave him after a while.

Yan! playboy!ex who loved how you came to his dorm more and more often. One thing you didn't know though, is that he had to rub his cock on the spot you were sat on. He needed you and that was as close as he was going to get on direct contact. ....for now

Yan!playboy!ex who actually cries and sobs when you accept him back into your arms.

Yan!playboy!bf who is afraid to touch you at first, feeling the guilt from his previous actions. So you'd probably have to insist quite a bit...but don't worry! He'll do anything to make you stay!

Yan!playboy!bf who can stay for hours on end in between your legs, it's his favourite! The feeling of your thighs squishing him while he makes you cum is just the best! It has him cumming in his pants more often than he'd like to admit. Moans and muffled groans vibrating through your whole body, letting your legs feel like jelly when he's finally finished. And if you stick a vibrator up his ass? None of you is done without passing out, covered in your mixed cum.

Yan!playboy!bf who loves when you touch him. Pinch his nipples? Moaning mess. Fingering him? Sobbing and cumming so much from both his dick and ass. Riding him? Congratulations, you got yourself a bitch in heat.

Yan! playboy!bf who thrusts his dick in between your cum covered thighs, sobbing from overstimulation while pleading for more. And when you finally graze his tip with your thumb, his dick is pulsing, sending ropes of cum on your hand. Nevertheless it stays rock hard.

Yan!playboy!bf who is a broken, whimpering mess if you suck him off. Probably cums so much too! He'll be gripping the sheets, his legs thrashing around as he tries to hold onto sanity.

Yan!playboy!bf who loses it when you kiss him while he is having an orgasm. He's reduced to a messy, trembling, sobbing state, squirming under your body, moaning against your mouth and almost choking from the lack of air, saliva dripping down the corners of his mouth due to the blissful sensation, unable to reciprocate and just lay there with his tongue plunging into your mouth, eyes crossing and dick throbbing around your warm hand.

Yan!playboy!bf who loves you and basically is a worshipping sinner to a god who's name is unwritten in paper but carved in his mind.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Might turn this into a series cuz I like it. MAYBE.

IF YOU LIKE THESE PLEASE FOLLOW, I CAN AND WILL DO MORE ♥︎♥︎

[tojisun]

i'm going to move on. whatever it takes, i will forget.

this was something that you began to carry around, the weight of the words a burden to your shoulders. you feel weak. you feel lethargic. floating. like a body drowning in stagnant waters.

there is no one else that could pull you up, you know that. god, you know that, but you continue to fall. splintering. breaking.

a washed up star, devouring everything in its wake as it sputters in its futile attempts to live—is this not you?

is this not the way in which simon left you? pawing at the flesh of your body, nails digging in as you poke and scratch, hoping to gouge out the pulsing organ because maybe, just maybe, if you had no heart then you would not feel this way anymore.

because he left you like this: a broken person, unable to live. to breathe. food no longer tastes the same, your bedroom smells sour—it still smells like his old perfume—and no amount of opened windows can make the scent waft away. you can barely drink your water, you can barely stand underneath the shower.

he left you like this: a ghost of what once was, unable to let go of the memories. you hear the rumble of his voice even when you smother yourself with your sheets, you feel the ticklish touch of his fingers running down the planes of your spine when you lay on your side. the spring air feels too cold. the spring sun feels too hot.

you are a miasmic reaction. a person with no purpose. a museum of all of your love, no matter the end.

simon still leaves you messages:

"your friends say they haven't seen you for a while now, love. i hope you're doing just alright."

"i'm sorry. i always will be. please, take care sweetheart."

you think he is the devil whom old folks in your hometown used to talk about; the king of evil who comes in a beautiful visage, before sliding in your dreams to devour you from the inside-out. the malevolence who sucks the life out from every pore so that he may leave you stranded on your bed, in your house, on your own skin.

because if simon isn't the devil, then why does he torment you this way?

he calls you beautiful names like they don't mean anything to him; it makes you question if they even meant something to him then, before the breakup.

maybe they didn't. that hurts.

maybe they did—this hurts more. because why would he continue to call you these? why would he continue to remind you of what once was?

your fingers twitch, poised for a reply. poised for anything—a plea, a question.

you send him neither.

instead, you delete his contact and shut your phone off. you throw it underneath your bed before sliding back under your sheets, the backs of your eyes prickling as tears build. pooling. then, falling.

(a weeping star—)

your regret peaks the next day as you clamber to your bruised knees, stretching your gaunt body to pluck your phone out of the darkness. you turn it on and add him back to your message list, frantic, heart in your throat, only to stop short at the reality of what you've done.

his contact is a blank slate now, just as empty as you are.

the words that you used to cherish, the ones where he called you his beloved and his angel and his favourite person ever, are gone. the proof that he loved you just as much has all been deleted, all because of your error.

you sob again, anguish anew. bile rises from the back of your throat and you stumble to your feet as you rush to your bathroom, your body knocking against the door before tumbling onto the floor. you heave.

what a mess you've become, still unable to reconcile the fact that your lover is gone now.

lover—the holder of all of your love.

simon.

simonsimonsimon.

he's left you, truly.

this is it, forever.

how cruel, you think, weeping, your hands trembling as you wipe at the corners of your mouth. how could he leave me this way?

the grief bloats, and you cry.

you cry because it is all that you can do. all that you are left to do.

("why're you cryin'?" simon asked, his thumb gentle as it swiped at the skin just underneath your eyes.

"i've missed you," you replied wetly, voice all nasally from your tears.

he huffed a fond laugh, the puffs of his breath hitting the bridge of your nose. he turned to cup your cheek instead, his other arm falling to wrap around your waist.

"y'know i'll never leave you, yeah?" his eyes were crinkled in his smile. "i've got so much love f'r you, petal. leaving you isn't even something that i can see happening."

you sniffled, nodding, your lips wobbling as new bouts of tears fell. simon smiled before he pulled you to his lap, gentle and careful. you tucked your face on the crook of his neck, finding comfort in his touch.)

you peel your eyes open, cataloguing the phantom pain shooting from the small of your back to your hip. you shift, careful as you rouse from the cold floor of your bathroom.

you think you dreamt of something—a memory, perhaps—but you can't quite recall what it was.

the sharp throb in your heart clues you in on what it might have been, but you're too afraid to jog your memory because you know you wouldn't be able to handle thinking about simon again. it is going to be a long day, after all.

a long, empty day.

[cherubfae]

Alastor's Lament || Jack Skellington!Alastor x Sally!AFAB!Reader

What if all this power as an Overlord has grown tiring for Alastor? Sure, he likes it. But can he even hope to yearn for something different? Could helping the hotel be his missing piece? Could you?

tags: gn!afab!reader, half-ragdoll!sinner!reader, Jack Skellington!Alastor, hurt/comfort, loneliness, implied abuse, blood/gore, protective!Alastor, friends to lovers

a/n: Tim Burton still has some of my favorite films and I'm also going to be working on a Victoria/Victor Al x afab!reader, so please look forward to that! ^~^ Sally's Song belongs to Disney!

From his little corner of Hell, Alastor could see the pale white moon embedded in the red sea sky from his radio tower. On a rare night where the moon could be seen so clearly, it left a deep sense of melancholy within his chest; even his dead heart ached.

All of his years as an Overlord seemed to drain him. Bartering souls had been his greatest pleasure, and sure, he was rather powerful but now that he had all this power; what was it worth to keep gaining? He was already one of the most feared. He sought out a new career path, to become Hazbin's hotelier to rehabilitate demons! It gave him a spark of interest that had been lost in him for centuries. Everything came easy to Alastor. Everything except you.

What a simply fascinating creature you were! Able to unstitch your limbs and sew them back together good as new! He considered you one of his dearest friends, a lovely thought always lingering in the back of his mind. Yet time and time again you seemed to slip away into the night before he could say anything, or even thank you for the lovely vintage wine you'd gifted him. Like a whisper in the dark, you had disappeared.

Not even Rosie had seen you. Which was growing more and more worrisome with the more the hours ticked on by. Where could you have gone? Were you alright? It was an uncommonly chilly night in Hell, thanks to an ice demon casting a spell over the lands as of recent. It was certainly no weather to be out and about in if one could help it.

The Radio Demon was aware of the unsavory living conditions you kept living with your adopted father and self-appointed 'creator' (which was wholly untrue), Dr. Twisttike, having invited you to live at the Hazbin Hotel. Even Charlie, Princess of Hell, had cordially invited you but the two were unaware of just how tightly you were bound to an over- controlling demon. One who claimed that he made you, therefore you were his.

Shaking his head, Alastor fretted over his blueprints for a new radio tower design, yet that inescapable feeling of dread continued to gnaw at his bones like a starved dog. He runs his hand over his face, down the red pinstriped suit, stopping to adjust his black buck shaped bowtie. Its glimmering red eyes blinked. This will simply not do. He needed to find you.

Hidden away, locked inside of your 'room' once more by the demon who held your chain so tightly, you weep silently to yourself. "And will he see how much he means to me?"

"Will you stop that dreadful singing?" Dr. Twisttike hissed, grasping your glowing pale blue chain and yanking you harshly. You fall to your knees, scraping your hands against the dirty concrete. Red abrasions collected on your palms, threatening to break the surface of your skin. "Your lover boy, Alastor, won't be coming for you, dear. You think you can keep up with a demon such as him? Look at yourself. You can't even keep your stitches together. Next time I make a ragdoll, I'll make one out of proper cloth and not flesh like you. All you do is cry and bleed." Clicking his tongue, he leaves you crying on the cold ground.

With your knees tucked to your chest, you sigh. That brute of a man--demon, oftentimes left you more undone than anything else did. Constantly pulling apart your stitches and not letting you put yourself back together. He almost let you catch fire a few weeks ago. Sure, none of this could kill you. But that didn't mean that it doesn't hurt when it happens.

Standing to look out your window, you hum to yourself. You could see the peak of Alastor's radio tower from here, the full moon rising behind like a great beacon. An immense sense of longing filled your body, you hoped he was looking at the same moon and feeling the same way as you. With a gasp, you slip through the partially opened gap and allow yourself to fall to the cobblestone. More abrasions and bruises from, your blood coagulating from your missing limbs.

Plucking out a needle from behind your ear, you begin to sew yourself back together, hissing softly around a particular tender area. Standing on rather wobbly feet at first until you break out into a sprint before your Overlord can know you've left. Your other arm was left behind, but you couldn't be bothered with that now. You needed to get away, heading towards the highest hill of town, near Alastor's tower.

Alastor frantically searches around town. There's still no sign of you anywhere. Dread continues to eat away at him, until he finds himself standing outside the gates of your home. The dread boils away into anger. Your sweet scent lingers in the air mixed with the scent of blood and fear. You were hurt. Bleeding. He wills himself to calm down, his claws bending through metal gates as he pushes them open with brute force.

"Ah, Alastor! Welcome, welcome, come in my dear boy!" Dr. Twisttike's serpentine tail swishes behind him, allowing the tall redhead into the cramped and dingey house.

Even for Hell's standards, the old and decrepit house was absolutely deplorable. A sulfuric musty smell hung in the air, damp with black mold and cobwebs clinging to every viable rafter.

Tension wafted through the air, Alastor's scarlet eyes turning into radio dials. In an instant, he's turned into his full demon form, mouth sewn by green stitches. A glowing green chain wraps taught around Dr. Twisttike, sending him to the ground with a harsh thud.

"Where are they?" Alastor's neck cracks at an ungodly angle, the echo of screams surrounding him. When Twisttike fails to speak, Alastor yanks the chain harshly, his heeled shoe slamming down onto the demon's claw, snapping it clean off. Black inky blood oozes from the putrid wound. "I won't ask again, good man. Where are they?"

Dr. Twisttike rasps, "Upstairs! Their bedroom! Please, stop!" Alastor snaps his fingers, the demon's limbs and extremities are bound by glowing green rope.

Alastor thunders up the spiral staircase. "My dearest! Are you here?" His eyes are frantic, wild. His ears stand alert, waiting for any sign of your lovely voice calling out to him. The only answer he receives is a perplexing silence. He rounds the corner to enter your door lies and snarls. "A cell? You keep my darling in a goddamned cell?"

Blowing the door off the hinges, Alastor surveys the small, cramped room. There's a bare bed with a single flimsy blanket and ragged old pillow. Small splatters of bloodstains stain those sheets. A tiny dresser to the right of the bed holding a single analog clock that seems to have stopped working long ago. The walls are bare of any color and character, with peeling paint and black mold scuttled around the corners of the ceiling like soot sprites. Everything he knows that you love and adore does not reflect in your room. There was no personalization, there was no you. It's uncomfortably damp. It was nothing short of a miracle that you weren't sick.

"You pitiful creature, keeping my beloved in such conditions. Why I should--," Alastor's sentence does in the back of his throat, noticing something half-hanging out the window. A dismembered arm, the thread of your stitches caught on a rusty nail. Carefully expecting it, he gently traces the stitch marks. "Hmm, it appears I have no more use for you, Dr. Twisttike."

A sickening squelch echoes throughout the house as Dr. Twisttike's body splatters all across the walls. Alastor's slithering tentacle removes itself from the corpse, shaking off the blood before retreating into his back. There isn't much left of the poor fool other than the remains of his guts and brain matter. Alastor carefully dabs his cheek free of blood, holding your severed arm close to his chest. He exits, form swallowed by darkness and shadow. Behind him, the home ignites into hellish green flames.

It did not take long for Alastor to find you. You nearly took his breath away. Your gaze is so beautiful and forlorn, sitting on a hill with the clearest view of the large full moon. The silver light casts delicate shadows against your skin as you hum a soft song to yourself. What a true, ethereal beauty you are.

"My dearest friend," rumbles Alastor, his tone a delicate purr. You stand in surprise, which quickly melts into a delicate smile. "If you don't mind, I'd like to join you by your side. Where we can gaze into the stars," Alastor gently reattached your arm, green magic carefully sewing it back on you.

"And sit together."

"Now and forever."

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

"For it as plain as anyone could see, we're simply meant to be." With a gentle embrace, Alastor presses his lips to yours, tugging you into his arms and off the chilly ground.

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

Aftershock...

So, summing up my conversation with @nanamiscocksleeve

This is based on the phenomenon of all the Nanami wives seeking comfort in Hiromi immediately after the fucking Shibuya incident which we usually do not acknowledge.

And me listening to Halsey the other day.

𝘔𝘋𝘕𝘐 18+ 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

Hiromi Higuruma knows.

He knows that when your fingers tangle in his thick dark locks, you dream of them being soft and blonde.

He knows that every time he kisses you, and your head turns away, his lips don't quite feel right.

Every time he pushes into you, cock straining with need into your difficult cunt, your eyes screw shut. You never look at him. You never see him.

But, he wants you to feel good. So he lets you. Allowing you to shut your eyes and dream of the man you never even got to say goodbye to.

Now if I keep my eyes closed he looks just like you

You lie under him, eyes closed, weeping. Praying that you won't be left alone again, yet unable to look past the man who holds your heart in a vice-like grip

Now if I keep my eyes closed, he feels just like you

His hands cup your breasts, almost the same size as his.You can't help it, you compare. Harsher though, rougher. Desperation clinging to his fingertips and he kneads at your soft pliant flesh. Look at me. See me! I'm right here, please!

But you've been replaced | I'm face to face with someone new

But your eyes stay shut, and the moans and whimpers that fall from your lips are not made for him.

And Hiromi would cry, but you're already doing that. As a tear slips out the corner of your eye and sinks into the pillow. He can't help but sink into you. Kissing its trail, kissing your jaw, your neck, your chest.

Your tits in his hand he prays. Look at me.

Would've gave it all for you, cared for you | My lover, my life | Would've trade it all for you, there for you| So tell me how to move on

But you can't. You can't let go of the past of the man who owned you; mind, body, and soul. And you know it's unfair to the lawyer on top of you but you can't help but seek comfort in his touch‌,‌ his caress, his kiss, his cock.

They don't realize that I'm thinking about you | It's nothing new

But he does. Hiromi Higuruma knows. And he hopes that one day, you see him for who he is. Not as the replacement for another. Till then though, he will love you. And hold you. Just like you need.

[redr0sewrites]

having some dan heng thoughts........

he doesnt go into rut or anything, but he has a reeeeally high sex drive and hes good at hiding it. so if youre having a convo or chatting with someone hes gonna act all composed but the moment youre alone he'll cram his cock(s) into your hole(s) and plow you like theres no tomorrow. BONUS POINTS IF HES WHINIER THAN USUAL!!!

- liz (ive been holding onto this because i thought im sending too many requests HELP)

AAA LIZ!!!! THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS SENDING IN TOO MANY REQS PLS SEND MORE I NEED MORE HSR REQS!!! <3 dan heng is sooo delicious

🥀CW: smut, ehibitionism, switch/soft dom dan heng, imbibitor lunae!dan heng, marking, dirty talk, overall filth

🥀 minors dni

dan hengs tail swung sharply through the air, the only giveaway in his usually stoic demeanor. his horns glowed faintly as he stared down the person talking to you both. while others may have seen him as calm, you knew exactly what your boyfriend wanted.

you politely excused the both of you, and began to walk away, farther down the street with dan heng right at your heels. the minute you both turned the corner, he harshly grabbed you and practically dragged you to the nearest alleyway. it had been far too long since he had touched you, and his dragonic instincts had already taken over. he had barely managed to contain his lust when talking to that stranger, and now here you both were, alone, with one idea in mind.

"off. now." dan heng tugged at your clothes, pulling your shirt down from your shoulder to reveal your skin. he immediately began to press hot, messy kisses to your neck, ghosting his teeth over your collarbone to your shoulder. your breath hitched, and he bit down hard.

"slow down dumbass" you mumbled, trying to pull away so you could continue removing your shirt. dan heng whined in response and the both of you seperated long enough to remove your clothes before he practically pounced on you, shoving you against the wall and picking you up.

"i need you... need you so bad..." dan heng was muttering as he began to press sloppy kisses to your neck and shoulders, grinding against you fervently. suddenly he pulled away a little, aligning himself with your weeping hole.

you moaned, feeling him rubbing against your entrance. dan heng groaned in response, kissing you roughly and nipping at your lower lip. suddenly, he pushed into you, the both of you moaning in pleasure as he filled you.

"aeons, your so tight- its like your hole was made for my cock, augh~ made for me-" dan heng bit down on your shoulder so hard you were sure he drew blood, and you let out a wanton moan as his hips snapped against yours.

a small bulge formed in your stomach with each harsh thrust, you dragged his hand down to press on it. dan heng moaned as he felt the small bump grow with each thrust.

"mm~ taking me so well, need you so bad-" he was cut short by another loud moan, his hole body trembling in pleasure. the both of you were nearing your orgasms, and the pleasure was overwhelming.

"please- please i'm so close" he gasped, the sound of skin slapping against skin and loud moaning made it incredibly obvious what you both were doing, yet you couldn't find the energy to care.

"me too- ngh~ cum inside, please-" at your words, dan heng seemed to grow feral. his tail moved to wrap tightly around your thigh, and he slammed deeper into you as your hips stuttered to keep up.

"o-oh, aeons~" dan heng let out a needy sob, and at the same time the coil in your stomach snapped as your release tumbled through you. dan heng gave a few more needy thrusts, prolonging both of your highs as you both took shaky breaths.

dan heng pulled out of you slowly, a ring of sticky release coated the base of his cock. the both of you were soaked in your own release, and dan heng pressed a soft kiss to the skin on your neck he had previously marked. you sigh contentedly, pulling away to look at how ruined you both looked.

"wanna go home and continue this?"

bro i feel like this sucks im so sorry😭 i am actually so tired im still getting over being sick so it took me a while to get to this request again IM SO SORRYYYYY BUT FEEL FREE TO SEND IN MORE REQS LIZ!!!!!! I LOVE UR REQS!!!!!!!

[thelov3lybookworm]

Weeping heart (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: She's so over today.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: i like this how this chapter ended up lol, ill try my best to post the next part sooner my loves mwah 😘

anyways, enjoyyyy!!

•○🌑○•

She could feel his eyes on the back of her neck as she discarded her blanket on the cot in the middle of the tent, trying to prolong the reprieve before she inevitably had to address the other presence in the tent.

Y/n was going to kill someone, hopefully Herb.

Rolling her neck, she walked towards the small table that sat a few feet away from the bed and bent to pick all the remaining weapons that sat on the table.

"Are you trying to ignore me?" Cardan questioned, his tone so genuinely confused that Y/n felt bad for trying to avoid him, but she could no say she regretted it.

After all, she was just trying to protect herself.

"What makes you think that?" She mumbled, her focus fixed on the weapons she strapped to herself.

She could hear him moving around, shuffling. From how close she'd been to him, she knew he was under pressure and was starting to get protective.

"You have been gone for months now, and you didn't even smile at me when you saw me and now you are not talking to me at all-"

"I've just been stressed, Cardan." Finally, after she finished checking her body to make sure she had all her weapons, she turned to find him frowning at her.

She wanted to smile at him, but she didn't have energy to even blink.

"I'm sorry, but I have to leave. It might be night time when I return, so don't wait up."

His frown deepened, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Y/n swiftly turned on her heel and made her exit, not bothering to even pretend she really was getting late.

She was just too tired now, and all she wanted to do was run away, live in a mountain home and maybe terrorize children by pretending to be a witch, but alas, that was not possible.

Yet.

•○🌑○•

The late afternoon sun was glaring down at Y/n and Herb, and despite the snow still blanketing the ground, the weather was hot. Too hot to be comfortable in an armor.

The thick silence was also not helping as Y/n and Herb made their way to the bar in the middle of town, having just finished the job they had come to get done.

That meant they could've returned to the camp, but Y/n had insisted on getting something to drink, not yet ready to face Cardan again after the shit show that had been her morning.

Y/n could tell Herb had questions he wanted to ask, but he knew that opening his mouth would probably end up with her scolding him, so he kept quiet as he stalked along next to her.

Y/n tried to relax as the bar came into view, rolling her shoulders.

It only got her more tensed up.

The bell jingled behind the pair as they walked in, a soft breeze cooling the back of Y/n's neck as the door swung shut behind her.

The car- tavern, really- was mostly empty, an hour or two left before it started filling with patrons wishing to wind down from their day's work.

A couple sat in a corner, leaning close together as they giggled and chugged their drinks, and Y/n eyed them before turning and following Herb to a table near the far wall.

As she settled down, she eyed the male standing right in front of the counter, laughing at something the owner said. Y/n's eyes narrowed as she realised it was not any male. It was one of her soldiers.

What is he doing here?

Sure, the soldiers were free to roam and explore the towns the group visited when not on duty, but they never came to taverns in the middle of the day, lest they have to fight later. It was only when they were certain that nothing would happen or if they got permission from Y/n that they would visit these places.

Blinking, Y/n turned to find Herb studying her, his arms folded on the table as he leaned forward.

"What?"

His eyes did not waver at her sharp tone. "I'm sorry."

Y/n grunted. "It's okay."

Y/n did not like the way he stared at her, his eyes seeming to read her like an open book. "Is it really?"

Y/n rose a brow. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He shook his head, his eyes so serious Y/n was concerned for a moment. "Nothing."

"It does not sound like nothing."

He sighed. "Look, I know there's something going on with you. I've known you for years now and you were never the one to just up and leave for a mission. You always took up missions that at the very least gave you the time of a week before leaving. So there's definitely something you're hiding."

Y/n straightened, looking away.

Herb was not the type of person to be serious. In the twenty years she had known him, since that first day when she had walked into class and befriended Cardan, and sat next to Herb, the male had never spoken a word if it was not meant to make someone laugh.

He was like that, Herb. He cared for people around him, and because he never seemed sad or serious, y/n had just assumed he was a little dumb.

She realised now how foolish it was.

"What are you trying to say Herb?"

"Just that I figured it has something to do with the High king, and if you ever need someone to talk to, I'll be there."

There was something indecipherable in his eyes as he spoke, the way he refused to break eye contact and the way he spoke so confidently, no traces of humour to be found in his soft, deep voice that sent chills down Y/n's back.

Y/n gave a curt nod, turning her eyes to stare a hole into the cheap wood of the table they had settled at.

Y/n could tell Herb still studied her, and it was another moment of heavy silence before he spoke up, his normal self back.

"So, have you heard of the toad that ate the horse?"

•○🌑○•

Y/n knew her suspicions were right when she stumbled into a raging revel in the camp after a day of wasting her time, everyone gathered around the huge fire in the middle, singing bawdy songs as Cardan looked over them like a pleased cat.

She had not wanted to return to the camp after her visiting the tavern, so she had told Herb to go by himself. He, of course, had decided to stay with her and laze about the small town.

"What is going on here?"

Cardan's eyes flew to where Y/n stood, glaring at them all as Herb stood at her back.

Cardan grinned, the smile Y/n had been in love with.

"We are celebrating!" One of the soldiers- clearly drunk- called out, giggling.

Y/n glared at him, then at Cardan.

His smile faltered, then slowly fell off when Y/n did not smile back.

Y/n stared at him a moment longer, letting him know that she was not pleased, then turned, heading into her tent.

She was so over today.

Tired, sleep claimed her the moment her head hit the hard mattress, and she slept deeper than she ever had, nothing able to wake her.

Not the sound of the night birds, not the sound of the soldiers screaming their hearts out outside, not the loud crash when one of them fell into her tent as he tried to navigate his way to his tent.

Nothing woke her up, except for the sudden hand that covered her mouth in the dark of the middle of the night.

•○🌑○•

Cardan Greenbriar Taglist: @kennedy-brooke @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @123345566 @mp-littlebit @tele86 @riddlesb1tch @bubybubsters

Taglist: @dreamsarenicer @kennedy-brooke @123345566

[evilminji]

My WIP fairy hates me. But like... in that homoerotic Nemesis sorta way, I swear.

Cease an desist, woman! (I scream into the void, knowing damn well she, being my own brain, SHAN'T.)

Cause NOW? Now I CAN NOT stop Pondering, with a Capitol P, the life of a Sentient Quirk. The trials and tribulations. The indignities and sufferings. Countless micro-aggression and out right dismissal of sentience. The reduction to the EXTENSION of another.

You are not a person.

You are JUST a Quirk.

An organ that "thinks" itself separate, in the way knees spasm when struck just so. The child you are attached to just needs to get better CONTROL of you. Your words and actions are actually THEIRS. You are simultaneously an unruly animal and strange adult, not allowed near other peoples children.

Why are you trying to follow this four year old into their school? Why are you SITTING out side a pre-school? Are you stalking that child?

You are a grown adult. Connected to a random Japanese child.

The child is expected to "control" you.

Punished if they do not.

No one is listen to EITHER of you, as you try to explain the situation. The child is upset, scared, and does not have the emotional maturity to understand why you are not to blame. All they can understand is that you appeared and everything became stressful and "bad". They started getting punished. Have to share their room now.

Do you even have rights? If you get hurt, get MAIMED, what will happen to you? Can you hold a job? Own land? Open a bank account? Fuck it! Can you have a RELATIONSHIP?

If you went out RIGHT NOW and punched a purse thief, would the FOUR YEAR OLD be arrested?

If the kid grows up, becomes a hero, and you do secretarial work... does his license cover you? If YOU wanted to become a Hero, would he be your hero partner? Could he technically sit in a corner and let you work?

If no one could TELL, over an internet connection, then surely that should prove SOMETHING? Right?

And! The question NO ONE ever seems to ask!

Could..... could you LEAVE? Do people have the right to force you back? If you don't WANT to be some kid's Quirk? You're sentient. If, unlike Dark Shadow, you are not PHYSICALLY connected, but tethered by distance?

Could. You. Leave?

Just "Allright, I'm out. The way you're all treating me is unacceptable. See ya never." And walk out the door? You'd be able to gain distance as the kid grew older. As long as you hid? You be homeless, without papers, but free.

A sentient Quirk means free will. Means you don't HAVE to do shit. It's like being born with a twin, not a slave. And that Twin does NOT have to put up with your bullshit. YOU are the one asking THEM to work with you, after all.

This? Of course, ALSO just ABSOLUTELY BEGS the question? What if that four year old grew up to be a BASTARD? Just... NO self reflection or empathy. Everything is everyone else's fault, always. And they want a NEW Quirk. One that won't question them.

So they sell theirs, buy a new one. Probably die off screen trying to throw it around.

What happens to you THEN? Pain, obviously. Like... massive, massive amounts of pain. You ARE a Quirk. You're being ripped out by your metaphorical roots. By the NERVE ENDINGS. But? Do you... for lack of a better word, "reset"?

Are you back infront of "your" person? Or do you stay, safely, where you are? Both would be fascinating, honestly. Because I imagine All for One? Does NOT get sentient quirks often. If at all.

They'd sooner kill themselves.

After all, if your choice is "kill yourself and your beloved twin" or "be ripped apart and watch them die horribly, then be used to go against everything you both stood for"? You weep and promise to make it fast.

Then you make it fast.

It's... really annoying, I'd imagine, for All for One. It's not necessarily that he WANTS a sentient Quirk. But they are INTERESTING. And he likes interesting.

He also likes owning things that can't leave. Ever.

So of course he'll poke and prod at the Quirk. It will inevitably be a nightmare, either way. Because EVERY Sentient Quirk has some degree of communication aspect to it. Just because the original holder never figured it out, doesn't mean HE can't.

And while your range may now be much, MUCH bigger? Because the fucker is strong as hell? How useful is that... if he can talk to you when ever HE feels like it? Day or night. 24/7.

And that's assuming you don't reset. God help you if you reset. Because THEN your STANDING infront of, most likely, pre-face-smash All for One. Who's looking at you like he just won a Mildly Interesting Prize and you would PREFER HE NOT. But what are you gonna do?

Walk out again?

You think THAT'S an option here?!

I mean... you can and do TRY. But, obviously not. So like? Fuck ™.

THEN the question becomes? Would YOU go to Tarturaus. Are you a hostage? Or an accomplice? You have the same level of power and authority as a cat, deliberately knocking pages of tables and cups to the floor, but... like? Oooooh~ oh yeah! THATS gonna slow him down! His empire crumbles beneath the sheer MIGHT of your petty inconveniences!

*trips the doctor again*

Fffffuck you.

[racke7]

Corporate War

So, I started thinking about this post.

Specifically, about what a setting with "a corporation of petty lunatics ruining the lives of their rival-company" would look like.

And then I realized:

Fentonworks.

Obviously, a small-time family-business like that won't actually accomplish much of anything, so we're roping in Vlad for this.

Vlad is a billionaire with a massive company, and an unfortunate tendency to come up with hare-brained schemes to seduce a married woman.

What I'm saying is that it's entirely in-character for Vlad to come up with some scheme of "merging" their companies together, and for Team Phantom to do the plucky-teen maneuver and switch the paperwork before he signs it or something.

Thus resulting in Fentonworks suddenly being the owners of Dalv-Co.

Now, obviously, this would upset Vlad quite a lot. But he gave it to Maddie, and now he can't take it back. (Both because of his obsession with her, and because they're always wearing ghost-proof gear, and it would never occur to Vlad to "ask nicely".)

So, now Jack and Maddie Fenton are the proud owners of a massive tech-company. They obviously have no idea what to do about that, beyond "continue inventing cool shit".

But since they're now a filter against Vlad's constant tendency to meddle and make enemies, this actually makes them into a much more successful company (Vlad is silently weeping blood in a corner).

This success finally culminates in the Drs Fenton being invited to a gala by Bruce Wayne, owner of Wayne Enterprises. Everything is going great, and then Jack meets Bruce.

Jack meets Bruce with all of his regular jolly enthusiasm, and Bruce responds with the Brucie-persona of a vapid but probably-good-hearted individual. (He might make a joke about ghosts? I dunno)

Jack comes home to Amity Park a changed man. He comes home with fury and anger and a terrible desire for vengeance.

Maddie thinks that Jack is being melodramatic, but Jack isn't listening. Jack is going to make the greatest invention ever, and then he'll shove it up Bruce Wayne's ass and fire it into space.

Vlad of course takes Maddie's side on this, because he always does that in a desperate hope to score points with her. However, he keeps getting distracted from Maddie by how vicious some of Jack's schemes end up sounding (they're terribly unrealistic, but such enthusiasm).

Vlad ends up giving in to Jack's deranged cackling of vengeance soon being at hand, because this is amazing. Vlad keeps forgetting that he's supposed to be resentful towards Jack for getting "everything Vlad wanted", because Jack shoots him gleefully vicious smiles and it's just-...

"What the fuck, Vlad?! My dad too?!" "I can appreciate a variety of things in life, Daniel. Do try to keep up."

Danny and the rest of Team Phantom quickly decide that they should stop this feud before it gets out of hand.

Sam, having access to rich-folks, gets them invites to a gala with Bruce Wayne in attendance.

And things... don't go to plan.

Tucker comes face-to-face with Tim, the genius CEO of Wayne Enterprises, who compliments Fentonworks for their "quaint" and "retro" designs. Tucker has to be physically dragged away before he can actually declare an open blood-feud to his face.

Jazz has a brief conversation with Dick (the oldest son), and immediately cottons onto the fact that Bruce is... probably not the best dad. As in, if someone drags the man's name through the mud a bit, instead of lauding him for "adopting orphan charity-cases"? He'd have it coming. Jazz washes her hands of this conflict.

Sam manages to corner Bruce, but gets distracted (as always) by some kind of comment about pollution and rights, and-... And Sam is now convinced that Bruce is setting their pollution only barely "below his competitors", as a way to have Poison Ivy attack his rivals. Sam is outraged about this, and now wants to burn down his company around him.

Danny stumbles across Damian, is immediately scoffed at, and promptly decides that, you know what? Actually? Fuck the Wayne-family.

So they return home, and suddenly? Suddenly they're very much on Jack's side in this conflict.

This of course results in them doing a bunch of petty pranks towards WE (same as in the video that inspired this whole AU). But it also results in Batman going insane, trying to track down the "villain" that's targeting WE, and find out if the reason that WE is being targeted is because somebody knows his secret identity (they don't).

Also, I feel like Dani should be allowed to return at the first rumor of a "fun feud" she can participate in. With Maddie doing the Bruce-thing and going "when the hell did we have another daughter?" (Jack is too focused on Vengeance to think too deeply about it, and Vlad keeps actively distracting her whenever she starts trying to question it).

And Jason?

Jason took a long sip of coffee, his eyes not moving from the dark-haired girl who'd just phased through a solid wall. The girl stared at him for a moment, before holding up her finger to her lips in a gesture for silence. "It's for a prank." Jason raised an eyebrow, then glanced at the bag she was carrying with her. A bag filled with what looked like lots and lots of toilet-paper. "To plug the toilets with." The girl explained. Jason imagined that that would cost a lot of money to fix. He took another sip of his coffee. "Don't forget the private toilets." The girl threw him a salute and a wide grin, and then she flew through a different wall. Jason made a personal note to remember to lace Tim's coffee with laxatives.

He's living his best life.

[velvetures]

*Peeks from a corner*

Merry Christmas!

Hi um...can I just say your comfort fluff fics have made me realize just how touche-starved I personally am. Made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

So, if I could be so bold as to ask for a fic with Soap or Gaz or Keegan with that same theme? Making sure they're taken care of, or make them feel safe enough to let their guard down for a bit?

Again, totally fine if you have other things to do, but it would really male my day if you did. Thank you and have a nice day!

- 💀

Fall Back

a/n: thank you for the request babes... I'm sorry Christmas is just now here in mid-fucking May :( I'm ashamed. Additionally, this is my first time writing for Keegan... and I'm still working out the specifics for my interpretation of his character and behavior. So this is a bit different from what I've written before. Hopefully you enjoy it. summary: Keegan's worn down to the bone. And you're there to help him. t/w's: none.

his eyes are almost identical to my husband's... why didn't I notice until now...

He only comes to you when things get too heavy to bear.

And not in the way a refrigerator empty of food, or a late rent payment would weigh on your mind. You’ve not seen the same things he has… and fuck, he’ll do anything to make sure you never do. The mere thought that any of the nightmares and constant PTSD triggers that make him jumpy could touch your conscious would send him into an entirely new mental warfare, impossible to win. No, he shows up when he needs it most. No matter what you might be doing, or how it could appear, he’s crawling on his belly with a broken look in his eyes. Pride bruised, strength dissolved, and voice rough with more pain than you thought he could ever survive.

You tried keeping the back door unlocked for him. Thinking he’d take it as a sign that your home is always welcome. It resulted in him forcing you to lock the doors and make him a key. That lasted a couple of months, and then he lost the key somewhere in Cuba. Something about a guy ripping his chain off his neck and subsequently the key to your door that he wore alongside his dog tags. He’d been quick to change all of your locks after that. And since then, he’s decided that crawling in through your bedroom window is the only way he’ll enter your house unless you’re formally inviting him in.

Maybe it’s the anti-social part of him that believes he can’t come and go as he pleases. Spending precious time sneaking into your little house instead of doing what he came for in the first place. Getting close to you. Sometimes he won’t wake you up. Just taking off his bloody-soaked gear and taking a quick wash in the shower before curling up to you in bed. Tucking you under him, and breathing in the soft smell of your soap and fresh sheets. Other times, you’ll stir away when you hear boots scuffing heavily against the floor. Hearing heavy breaths and his tac vest thumping to the floor. Witnessing what it’s like when a ghost finally runs out of hatred and cold-blooded determination.

“Are you hurt?” It’s almost always your first question. After so many missions, he’s almost always got something that needs looked at. And while you never thought that tying stitches or cleaning shallow stab wounds would be a common occurrence in your life, Keegan has made it so that your medical kit under your bathroom sink is always stocked and ready for emergency-room worthy injuries.

He’s not going to talk much, even if he’s in good shape. It’s not in his disposition. More like a shelter dog sent back too many times for growling or bearing his teeth. Wary of everything, yet so desperate for touch that he’s willing to show you exactly where a bullet grazed his thigh. About eight hours old and weeping blood, staining a pair of pants that you’ll spend time scrubbing out in the morning while doing laundry. But if you’re worried, he’s going to hide just how badly he’s hurting… if for nothing than your sake.

He’s already broken into your house again… and now bleeding all over the bathroom rug with pretty flowers you bought after the last time he made a mess in there. Constantly reminding himself it’s selfish to demand you care for him. To show up with a shitty fucking attitude and guilt you into licking his wounds when he can’t bear to do it himself, or admit to the medical staff on base that he needs it. You’re too kind for this kind of bullshit. Too sweet to run him off though. And it’s why he keeps crawling back. Greedy… hungry… insatiable… he’s always admonishing himself for just how little control he possesses when there’s an opportunity to leave you alone, or place himself right in the middle of your life again.

“Everyone come back alive?”

Keegan has a love hate relationship with that particular question. Debating on whether or not he likes that you worry for his teammates in such an honest way; or if he’s so jealous of your mind wandering to them, and what fucked-up things they do during missions that it’s almost unbearable to hear you ask it.

“Alive.” He breathes out steadily as you thread your stitching through his skin for an eighth time, tying another knot over his twitching and aching muscles.

You’re always asking questions about the missions. About what he had to do, if he got hurt, where they went… it’s innocent enough. You mean well. But he never can tell you much. Protective instinct and top secret red tape make much of the details not worth the risk of divulging. But he’s patient with you. Giving away small hints maybe by saying a few words in a native language, or talking about a particular landmark that might’ve been close enough that you can make a guess from there. At this point, you’ve learned at least a few words in: German, Russian, Thai, and multiple hispanic dialects. A smart woman, of course, but he’s always surprised when you connect his work to something you’ve seen on the news.

It’s like you’re always watching for him.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Maybe you do look out for him in more ways than one. Not bothering with the fact that you’d already completed your nightly routine, just to strip down and get a shower running. Rubbing out strained shoulders with soft hands, and gently thumbing out the thick knots in his lower back. It’s the only pressure he’s willing to accept in this state. Merely breathing just to live for more of your touch. Keegan can’t even bother with soap, and had it not been for you, he wouldn’t have at all. Feeling you scrub down every inch of him. Much more like a maid than… well… he still didn’t know what kind of label to put on this relationship.

There were too many variables and more questions than he could answer. Sure it was… transactional at times, but he’d be remiss to ignore all of the ways you occupied his thoughts when it wasn’t appropriate to. And you always do more than you’re supposed to. Just like now. Wrapping your arms around him for behind and kissing over his shoulder blades. Humming a soft tune and letting your fingertips trace over his stomach. Any man should be able to admit that he’s weak for it… but Keegan can’t readily do that.

Fighting his own heart pounding in his chest as you sway him back and forth. Wishing he could let this feeling go. Be a stronger man. Be a better ghost and lock himself away behind the gear and guns. Fuck. You’re so good at it though. Stripping him down to nothing, even when he thought there wasn’t anything else left. Soothing aches and kissing away pains he blocked out for so long that he felt like had disappeared. You are smarter than that. You know how his mind works whether he likes it or not. How willing he is to go from hell and back so many times that he’s unsure of what kind of being he truly is. Caught between worlds of warfare and the softer one where you always welcome him back, knowing that within a few days the gore will call him back for service.

“Sleep on the couch…” He mutters, standing with a towel slung around his hips and a bleary look in satin light-blue eyes. “Don’t wanna stain your sheets.”

He’d seen them upon arrival; crisp white and hundred-dollar softness he didn’t want to touch. Between the blood and feeling of getting spoiled to them, it wasn’t worth it to him. He’d done it before without much thought, but this time something was making him attempt responsibility.

“Then I’m coming with you, Russ.”

You’re smiling that damned smile he dreams about. That one where the gap between your front teeth shows and the dimpled skin on your cheeks shadows just enough to make him forget that you’re human. Angelic. Teasing… Gracefully not leaving him room for an argument. Simply turning around and headed towards the bedroom without another word as to if he’d be choosing to lay cramped on your couch. Hell, it’s four in the morning, and your mind is sharp enough to play with him just enough that he’s stalking back into the dark room and watching you crawl into the bed with an expectant, innocent look directed at him.

Keegan can’t help it.

He’s under the sheets and unceremoniously reaching for you without hesitation. Feeling his callouses catch on your skin and wincing when he hears his rough palms scratch at you. No matter how rough it feels, you’re still sliding closer. Careful of bruises and cuts, tucking yourself against him and using one arm to guide his head against your chest. Laying just above him. Incentivizing him to hug tightly to you and tuck his head under your chin. Allowing this unfeeling soldier to hide in the temporary shelter of your heartbeat.

You rub his head, and feel short, clipped, hair tickle your fingertips. Soft from a shampoo and condition after weeks away in sand that made the bathroom floor feel gritty. You’re almost always pressing kisses to his forehead and using your other hand to rub over his brow bone and bridge of his nose. Seeing in the nighttime shadow where his face paint has settled into wrinkles that you didn’t manage to wash off in the shower. Looking at long, black eyelashes that flutter a bit when you scratch up and down the back of his neck.

“You’re so pretty…” You always talk to him like this. Unable to keep from spouting praise that wells up after long periods of not knowing if he’s alive, let alone safe.

You’re not dumb. You know he’s dangerous. Maybe even a monster in some people’s eyes. But it’s a necessary evil, and it’s something you came to terms with easily. Because you didn’t just see him for the guns and direct orders. You got to witness moments like this where he’s nothing but a man in desperate need of humanity. Hungry for connection. Soft touches… and whether he liked it or not, the praises that you whisper against his pink-tipped ears.

“You’re the pretty one, dollie.” He grumbles back, squeezing your hip in a big hand.

It makes your face heat up just ask quickly when he pulls that one out. Almost always with a nickname up his sleeve that just makes it all that much more worth it. But being anything other than your own name to him… it’s a different kind of reward. One that has you smiling like a fool as you get sleepier. Nearly petting him to sleep, and hoping to god you can stay awake longer than he does just to prove you’re willing to. Maybe willing isn’t even strong enough…

Any way you think about it, there’s a sense of duty you hold much like his to a career as a ghost. Yours stemming from love so deep for this man that it’s painful watching him crawl to you as a last resort. Despising what or whoever made him feel like wanting a warm bed, and someone to look after him when he’s weak, is wrong. God it’s enough to make you angry. Looking down at a man who could make anyone tremble, and seeing him curled up against your chest like he’s clinging to a shred of comfort. If you thought picking up a gun alongside him would change things, you’re certain you’d have done it years ago. Right when all of this started and Keegan was much more proud. Unwilling to relent as easily as he does now.

But it took that long because there wasn’t another option.

He wouldn’t have allowed it if you were any different of a person, or hadn’t possessed the patience for him to let go like this. You’re positive no one knows that this is where he runs to when things get too hard. None of his team, and with no family to speak of, you’re left as his final resort, but the only one he trusts. Unlike Keegan who avoids his medal pinnings with sheer hatred, you wear your designation proudly. You’re always shining it… polishing it… looking for the first opportunity to show just how willing you are. Just for the chance to hold him. Anything to feel his breathing even out after weeks of holding it. Anything to clean him up. Put him back together.

All while silently praying that it’ll be the last time. Wishing he’d see that you aren’t a last resort, and that he can lay here as long as he wants without losing the worth he assigned to himself after becoming a ghost. Wondering when it’ll come to an end where he can come back and hang up the guns laying on your bedroom floor, forever. Patiently anticipating the day you can not have to wait until he’s asleep to say exactly how you feel.

“I love you, Keegan…”

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