#It looks so warm and crunchy

[tv3headz]

I DELIVERED WHAT THE PEOPLE WANTED

I just realized that I’ve only drawn CasinoHearts digitally once before and that was for that small comic so I’m absolutely in love with how I colored this

Og post

some variants

Was testing out brushes for digital art heheh

[haoboutyou]

for your convenience | kim mingyu

suggestive, fluff | 1281 words | alcohol mention, making out

mingyu’s got an unconventional solution to both your problems

“I still don’t understand how you’re still single, Gyu. My back is hurting from all the girls shooting lasers at me!” Yuju threw her head back in a laugh, bumping her shoulders into you playfully as she shouted over the loud music.

The man in question groaned in exasperation. “Not you too, Yuju. You’re starting to sound like my mom.”

“Oh my god, really?! I miss Auntie Kim!” Yuju squealed in joy. 

“I’m not kidding; she’s even set up blind dates for me!” Mingyu ran a hand over his face, whining. 

“Oh please. As soon as they find out about his golden retriever-ass personality, they’ll lose interest and make a run for it.” 

Next to her, Eunwoo smirked. He downed the drink in his hand in one go, wincing at the burn as he hooked an arm around Mingyu’s neck.

“You’re one to talk, Mr Dark-and-Mysterious.” Your cheeks are flushed bright red, evidence of the alcohol in your veins. You did a once-over of Eunwoo in his leather jacket, scoffing. “Remember when you cried because you stepped on a cicida?”

“One: I did not cry, my hair got into my eyes! And two: it was crunchy!” 

All you wanted to do tonight was get drunk, make out strangers and party hard with your friends. As soon as you entered Cherries, your little group had made a beeline for your usual table. Two cranberry vodkas into the night and you’ve found yourself twirling around your best friends on the dance floor, steps only a little wobbly as you bounced between Yuju, Eunwoo and Mingyu.

Actually, it was just you and Mingyu. Eunwoo had already retreated to the bar, and Yuju got lost on the crowded dance floor, probably grinding on the nearest hottie around her. Not that you minded one bit– you were the closest to Mingyu, anyway, so being alone with him wasn’t uncomfortable at all. 

Mingyu’s got a firm grip on your waist the whole time, ensuring your drunken self didn’t trip over your own feet. You were both mingling around, dancing along to the DJ and having the time of your life.

That was, until you spotted an unwelcomingly familiar figure by the bar, staring straight at you. The sudden chill that followed sobered you up in record time, halting you in your dance.

“Fuck, he’s here too?” 

Mingyu looked up to see where you were looking. “Is that Jaehyun? I thought you guys broke up months ago” 

“Apparently, he didn't get the memo,” you muttered.

You bit your lip, a nervous habit Mingyu noticed you formed a few years back. He couldn’t help but reach out, thumb caressing your lower lip to stop you from biting. He successfully managed to catch your attention; instead, you turned to look back at him.

“Y/n,” he gazed into your eyes, then towards the direction where your ex stood. “Do you trust me?” 

“Of course I do. Why did you a-”

Mingyu kissed you. 

He kissed you and now your brain is short-circuiting again, but for a completely different reason.

Kim Mingyu, possibly the most eligible bachelor in Cherries, just kissed you. 

Correction: he’s still kissing you. 

His hands gripped on both sides of your face, firm but gentle. His thumb softly caressed the apples of your cheeks as he angled himself to deepen the kiss. Somehow, his other hand found its way to the nape of your neck; tilting your head upwards and burying his fingers into your locks. 

You let out a gasp as he ran his tongue along your lips. It happened too suddenly; your hands were left to find purchase on his jacket, gripping for dear life. You, however, found yourself drowning in his scent; his warm and woody scent engulfing you whole. Kissing him back with equal fervour was a no-brainer– he made you lose yourself in him, with him.

He’s really good at it too, you realised, until he reluctantly broke the kiss. Cocoa-colour eyes stared back at you intently as Mingyu leaned his forehead against yours. The ferocity of the kiss left you both panting, a bright rosy flush gracing both your cheeks. 

The thumping beats and flashing lights of Cherries came rushing back into your senses. All around you, bodies continued to sway in rhythm, laughter and chatter melding into a rush of excitement as strangers burst your private bubble with Mingyu.

“Do you think he saw that?” Even between pants, Mingyu managed to look arrogantly charming, smirking proudly to himself when he realised he’d managed to render you speechless.

You suddenly felt shy, eyes flitting anywhere else but back at him. You took a deep breath, before using what little strength you had left to push him away. 

“Uh, well… I think so, yeah. Thanks, I guess.”

From the corner of your eye, you spotted your ex slinking back onto the dance floor after witnessing your bold display of affection. 

You sighed in relief, slumping onto Mingyu’s tall frame. He chuckled at how comically you do it, an arm wrapping around your waist to support you against him. 

“No, really. Thank you. I think he’s been following me because he thought he still had a chance.” you shudder as you recall the terrifying past month you just had– a stalker ex following everywhere you went. 

Mingyu peppered soft kisses on your neck, making sure to look over your shoulder into the crowd behind you. For good measure, you reasoned to yourself. You balled up your fists on his lapels, anchoring yourself to him. “I might have a solution to both our problems, y/n.” He’s got a finger twirling a piece of your hair now.  “Go out with me. I’ll make him, and all your other problems gone.”

“Oh yeah?” Now it’s your turn to scoff. “Like what?”

“Rumour has it you’re looking for a new place?” Mingyu leaned forward, speaking into your ear. His breath tickled, eliciting a shiver that ran down your spine. The club’s music seemed to muffle his deep voice even more, straining to pick it up amid the constant noise.

He nuzzled deeper into your neck. “C’mon, Y/n-ie. We already get along great with each other. Most people already assume we’re dating anyway.” He took in a deep breath. “Help me stop my parents from sending me on those stupid blind dates. Won’t it be a win-win situation?”

“You want us to fake date?”

“I want us to real date.”

You bit your lip back again. Your voice dropped down to a whisper. “That’s not funny, Gyu. Be serious.”

His smile softens. For a moment, it reminded you of the goofy kid you first befriended in high school.

“Is falling in love with me that bad? I wouldn’t mind loving you, personally.”

You stared back at him hard. It’s hot and humid in Cherries, but Kim Mingyu pulls off the sweaty sexy look way too effortlessly. Brief flashbacks of your short-lived high school crush on your best friend reemerged in your head. Besides… He did help you chase off your ex tonight. Knowing how persistent your ex is though, maybe keeping Mingyu around wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

“Y/n-ie, baby.” You were aware that the both of you were only slightly drunk; sober enough to understand the consequences of your actions, but tipsy enough to act on your desires. Mingyu seemed to pout harder. “Date me, please? I’d rather be with you than anyone else.”

You pretend to ponder a little bit more before finally making a decision. “Fine.” You shook his warm hand in yours, ignoring how your heart fluttered at how his large hand almost engulfed yours. 

“You’ve got a deal, boyfriend.”

divider credit

[pseudowho]

Domestic Bliss: Nanami Kento #2, Indentured Servitude

Sighing, and draping the dishcloth over the sink, Kento walked to the living room. He was fully prepared. He couldn't wait to settle down for the evening. There was nothing he could possibly have left to do.

You were sat on the sofa, curled up, scrolling on your phone. Kento approached slowly, cautionary, waiting. His eyes narrowed at you as he got closer, and closer, hovering by his seat. You did not look up. You didn't make a sound.

Achingly slowly, and with abject suspicion, Kento lowered himself to sit on the sofa beside you. Until--

"Kento, could you just get me--"

"A glass of water? Yes. It's right there on the coffee table, beside a fresh cup of tea. A fresh cup of coffee, too, on the chance that you just fancy a coffee actually. Your hot water bottle is here, nice and warm. I cleaned the blanket today, it's behind your head. There are snacks beside you, some sweet, some salty, some chewy, some crunchy. I've got your book that you probably won't read, but just in case, it's here. Here's the TV remote, and the other TV remote, and the remote for the lamp. Your phone charger is plugged in, and the cable is tucked in the cushion beside you. The laundry is done, the dishes are cleaned, our clothes are ironed for tomorrow, and I've ordered those storage boxes you wanted."

You looked up at Kento mulishly, nodding slowly, finger still hovering over your phone. You smiled sweetly. Kento's eyes narrowed further, a challenging smile on the corner of his mouth.

"Is there anything else you need, darling?" You batted your eyelashes up at him.

"...no, don't think so."

Kento sighed again, and moved to sit down.

"Oh, actually! Some socks, please. My feet are freezing."

You heard Kento grumble all the way to the dresser.

[mitsies]

isagi yoichi is smiling at his phone again.

he’s pacing, too. up and down, back and forth— the whole nine yards. literally. on a hot summer’s day, instead of spending his break from practice cooling down or getting water, he chose to spend it ignoring his teammates and glued to his phone. he was so immersed in the little screen that he had yet to notice the rest of his friends watching him with raised brows from the benches.

“what’s up with him?” reo echoes everyone’s thoughts, flopping down onto the bench next to nagi.

“no idea. but he’s been basically drooling over his phone since our break,” chigiri replies. “we’re probably going to end up having to pry it out of his cold, dead hands.

a lapse in conversation follows isagi’s slight laugh as something happens on his phone screen— just what could he be laughing at?

“maybe he’s playing tetris,” bachira suggests. he is met by blank stares until nagi finally says his piece, “why would he be playing tetris?”

“oh, you’re one to talk—“

bachira is cut off by, again, the sound of laughter. everyone turns their gaze to see isagi, bashfully covering his mouth with his free hand while typing out a text reply. so he was texting someone, they deduce.

“who could he be texting? aren’t we, like, his only friends?” reo wonders out loud.

nagi’s hand rests on reo’s side as he glances over to the subject of the impromptu investigation again. “dunno. his mom?”

“doubt his mom is that funny.”

“maybe it’s his girlfriend,” bachira sings. eyes snap to him for the second time that day.

“he has a girlfriend?”

“isagi can pull?”

“before me?”

their chorus of replies, ranging from flabbergasted to bitter, draw the attention of the man of the hour, who finally, for the first time in a solid 10 minutes, glances up from his phone. “is.. something up?”

bachira laughs. everyone else stares. reo is the one who finally speaks:

“who are you texting there, buddy?”

isagi grimaces at the tone. it’s reminiscent of a dad who knows he’s caught you doing something wrong but is trying to get you to admit to it. he feels like he’s a little boy with a hand in the cookie jar when he replies meekly, “no one?”

chigiri smirks. that’s the only way to describe his expression, really; a smug little stupid smirk that sends sweat down isagi’s spine. “it’s rude to call your girlfriend that, yoichi.”

the world stills. blood roars in his ears. isagi is absolutely certain his face is burnt-tomato red, and he feels overwhelmingly warm with embarrassment. “uh..”

and then: an incoming call. a familiar, separate ringtone sounds as your name lights up his phone.

a set of devilish, devious grins spread across his present teammate’s faces.

“you’re not going to ignore that, right?” bachira smiles.

isagi swallows.

isagi hits the green button.

and he’s met by silence. only a slight staticky feedback on the other end, and some garbled noise that might be faraway conversation. no girlfriend, no voice.

the teammates exchange a glance. chigiri speaks, “bachira, if you were messing and that really is his mom—“

he’s silenced by a voice. one he’s never heard.

“yoichi? you there?”

you sound crunchy on the other end of the call, but unmistakably, undoubtedly real.

“hey, hi! i’m here.” and what else is the way isagi absolutely lights up when he hears your voice. like a new wave of energy has just consumed him, like he was asleep and got hit by a bucket of ice cold water.

isagi gives his friends a shit-eating grin before waving and walking away, still talking to you on the phone, instantly reentering his own little world. reo looks ay nagi. nagi looks at chigiri. chigiri looks at bachira. bachira looks at reo.

“at least he wasn’t playing tetris,” reo finally says.

nagi nods solemnly. chigiri shrugs. bachira glares at the purple-haired boy: “what’s wrong with tetris?”

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife #10 : Snack Time

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Momma bird hungry for all the snacks in the world. Takes some time and frustration before Joel figures out the exact kind of snack you really want.

Warnings: Pregnant reader, Angry!Joel, oral M!receiving, face fucking, throat bulge, throat-pie, dumbification, junk food binge, eating meat, bossy reader as always

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel didn’t know he married the Hungry Hungry Hippo, Galactus the planet devourer, Garfield the tabby cat.

You’re on your phone texting while cuddling Joel. He’s more interested in the movie than you are, but that doesn’t stop him from tracing his finger along your arm, occasionally kissing the top of your head and nuzzling his nose. He loves the scent of your shampoo after a wash, damp and cold against his warm chest. Sometimes you protest how closely he wants to cuddle you, all smushed up on the couch. Your body temp skyrocketed with the baby changing everything. But since he’s keep the AC on full blast, your warm heavy body keeps him from being a popsicle.

The landlines chimes in from the kitchen.

He rolls his eyes. Of course, something to interrupt the comfort that took 40 minutes for you to settle into. "I'll get it,” He grumbles quickly and hoists himself up off the couch. He wants to make whoever the fuck is calling at such a late hour a quick convo. If it’s fucking Tommy needing bailed out again, he thinks begrudgingly, I’ll just hang up on him. 

He clears his throat and answers: “Hello, Miller Residents.”

"Can you get me a bowl of Cap'n crunch while you're up?"

He glances back over at you sitting up on the couch, your cell to your ear as you wave at him. you point to your belly mouthing I T S  F O R  T H E  B A B Y.

It’s for the baby, my ass. You’ve been a hungry hungry hippo who’s been snacking like crazy and ignoring the doctor’s warnings. 

But cranky Momma is way worse than a scolding doctor. 

He grits his teeth and slams the receiver a little too hard down on the desk.

You can hear him shuffling around in the kitchen, a clash of a bowl on the counter  and the jingle of overly processed cereal filling it up. 

He walks back into the living room. You’ve taken up the whole couch now, with no inclination to move over to let him back on.

You shove a fist into the bowl and pop a bunch of the crunchy orange squares into your mouth “f’anks” you mumble, eyes not once making contact with him as you stare ahead and much away. Crumbs fall onto your chest and down to the floor and sofa, as if Joel hadn’t just cleaned all of it this morning.

.

The next night, Joel's cooking some steaks. You weren’t really a meat-crazed person, having maybe one or two helpings of poultry or occasionally red beef a week, but normally ,you could go without it for a few meals without thinking about it. 

Pregnant momma? She was a fucking carnivore. He had barely set the sizzling steak down before you snatch one onto your plate. He turns around to slice into one, checking its temp before serving, only to see it was a bit too red and bloodied on the inside.

"Oh babe I gotta cook these a little longer; they're too rare--"

You were hacking away and tearing a large chunks of the red, near pulsing meat, juices pouring out your lips, a vampire gorged on a fat blood sucking meal. Despite its tenderness, you chew endlessly and stare off into the table like a Llama enjoying its food on the field. 

"Maybe...we should—slow down a bit,” he suggests with uncertainty. His fork and knife frozen in midair, still in each hand. He hasn’t shifted view or blinked, but clear worry (and maybe a tad bit of fear) stretch across his face.

"Uighgrrfmggmmdeeofxsw,” you reply with gargled cow remains sloshing in your wide open trap. 

 “Right. That."

You swallow what’s left. Joel’s does a double take: your steak is somehow gone, juice licked clean off the plate in front of you.

“Can I have yours???"

He had only sliced 4 cuts  for himself so far. But the hungry look in your pupils, licking your lips while watching his dinner, it’s clear you’ve answered for him. He sadly sets his cutlery down and slides his plate to you. 

Its even more interesting when you douse it in salt and throw a slab of butter on top of it, watching it melt before slicing a big chunk off.

"You gotta watch the salt intake—“

“—Can you make chicken? I want chicken now.”

“N-no,” he shakes his head, whiplash from the conversation. Maybe you’ve gone def AND blind AND lost your taste buds. “I made steak. You've had 2 steaks now. Why do you need chicken?”

“That second one was for the baby. The chicken is for me.”

“What about the fist one?”

“….We split that.”

“Awfully hungry baby,” he says with a dead tone, straight faced as he eats the one roll left in the basket that hasn’t been devoured by you. 

“Well she’s yours, isn’t she?” 

-

You wipe your face with a napkin, a fried chicken leg and wing now securely packed tight in your tum tum along with the famished baby.

"What's for dessert?" You chime eagerly.

Joel turns to wash the dishes, hiding his smirk. He’s got you now, no surprise cravings will catch him short on this one: He boasts proudly, “I bought you apple pie--"

"I want cupcakes. Whip cream icing. Chocolate.”

His grin quickly deflates into a frown. “No.” He says sternly, a little aggravated. “I bought you pie—“

"Did I say I want pie? L I S T E N,” you snap, slapping your palms together with each syllable. 

He puts his foot down with tense sudsy hands going to his hips. “No. I'm not going out again.”

You raise your eyebrows threateningly. One look.

30 minutes later Joel is shuffling into the house with a pack of 12 cupcakes he bought at the bakery.

-

You’ve managed to prop yourself up on the couch after some heaving. “Ha! The baby is making me workout get strong! Obviously that’s why I’m so hungry.” You shrug it off. “Oh! I want raw cookie dough.”

Joel was on his phone the entire time, but the second you said I want, his brain queued in and he quickly retorts, “No.”

He goes back to replaying the voicemail he missed, settled and focused on the opposite couch.

Of course he Doesn't realize you’ve somehow lumbered up past him and now waddling back with 4 chunks of raw cookies in your hand, popping them in your mouth one at a time.

His eyes dark up to watch you, transfixed on the screen as you bend your knees, hardly paying attention to the way you’re about to fall on the couch. He has half the mind to help, but what’s one lesson you need to learn the hard way?

Regretfully, you bounce down successfully and pull your legs up.

And then, as you dust your hands off from the chocolate stains melted on your palms, Joel’s lips part in a o as you reach behind you and pulling an entire gallon container of animal crackers. 

"Babe"

"Wha?” You don’t turn around to look at him, still shoveling them into your mouth. “Yuu wan wan?"

"You need to stop eating every damn thing in the house.”

You gasp incredulously, your hand over your heart in painful offense. “The baby is very hungry! She's related to you and that belly.”

He only remembers to stop himself from reminding you that your belly is much bigger than his now. 

"The baby—“ (that was the new thing now: the baby  this baby that. The baby is why I need this shirt in blue and green. The baby is why I need the ice cream layered horizontally not stacked vertically. The baby —)

"No. Not the baby,” he snaps. “You."

You start to cry. "I thought I AM your baby!!!" 

He gives you a “seriously” look and you stop the fake tears.

“So how about it?”

“I don’t want you getting salmonella.”

“ugh fine. You can bake them I guess.”

He’s about to protest the idea of any dough going into your body, cooked or raw, but knows its going to be a lost cause.

Joel makes you a platter of Assorted cookies: chocolate chip, fudge, triple chocolate, sugar, and oatmeal raisin.

You clap your hands as he carefully places the little plate atop your bump. Humored by the custom “mini” table you’ve got going on now. Maybe his baby doesn’t like her head being used as a countertop, but with the way you close your eyes and moan after biting into the chocolate chip, babygirl must be pleased too.

He goes to the bathroom quickly and then comes back only to glare down at you. You've taken exactly one bite out of every single cookie, leaving crescent shapes for him to scathe.

Every cookie, except oatmeal raisin. You clearly did take a bite ,but spit it out and put the lump back near the undesirable #1 cookie.

“These mine?” Joel asks bemused.

You nod happily. You felt very proud to have enough control and leave him some this time! 

-

It’s about 9:30 pm. You're acting drunk and woozy even tho you're just a new level of tired and achy

"Woopppoooooo!!! Paaartttaaayyy!" You shout with fists in the air, drinking down a shot glass of sugar water. 

“Alright party Momma. It’s bedtime.” 

"Ppfffttt! No old man! Dont steal my fun.”

Joel stands over the couch, blocking your view from the TV, his hands on his hips. “You're being difficult "

“YoU’rE bEiNg DifFicUlT,” you mock and wave him off. "Oop I need to pee. Help me up.”

Joel” grabs both your grabby hands and hoists you up to your feet. “Now up the stairs, you.”

You waddle towards the stairwell, one hand cupping your lower back. Joel is right at your heel. you up at the treaturous journey ahead, all 8 steps to the top floor. Cracking your neck side to side, you wave your arms over to the handrail and begin: “Left foot. Right foot. Left. Fuck. Fuck stairs. Who invented stairs. Left foot…”

Joel’s so sleepy that he nearly falls forward. And he knows you would not take too kindly to him ramming his face into your ass as you battle your worst enemy.

Finally to the top, you scurry over like a penguin to the bathroom. He fears the long night ahead, with all the sugar swirling in your system undoubtedly going to keep him up.

He rubs his wears eyes. Startled when a moment later you’re right next to him by your side of the bed, patiently waiting for him to help you up.

"Get in the covers,” he hums with exhaustion.

But you don’t move. “No"

"Now.”

"I want an orange.”

"No. You—you just had your snack."

"That was the baby's snack. I want MY snack”.

Dear Christ almighty, bless me with a boy next time so that I have a fighting chance against her and mini her. “If I get you an orange, will you go to bed?" He asks irritably, his voice enunciating each word to ensure the contract that he’s making with you right now is solidified on both ends of the bargain.

You think it over before nodding with a little innocent beam. 

You crawl into the covers just as Joel descends the stairs once again. It takes the entire time for him to grab some oranges, a peeler, and paper towel just for you to rotate your middle and sit your ass in bed.

You sit up against the headboard and clap your hands, so excited when he reappears with the goods. He puts the towel on your mini-table bump and plops one orange atop.

Joel sighs and begins to walk towards his side of the bed, but is haunted when you clear your throat for his attention.

“Yes?”

"Peel it.”

He tries not to visibly roll his eyes before he's opening the round orange with his large fingers and clubbed nails. Everything smells like nectarine now.

Picky as can be, you peel off the extra dried white veiny bits and suck on each pod of the orange.

You expect a sweet simpleness to squirt on your tongue, but instead, a sour, bitter, unripe taste floods your mouth. “Ugh these are gross, now I want—“

Joel closes his wardrobe drawer, his shirt off and only halfway down to his boxers. “NO. NO means fucking NO. I’M TIRED. YOU’RE TIRED. WE'RE GOING TO BED. NOW,” he barks sternly into the mirror. His shoulders huffing from such aggression without being able to look at you.

You throw the covers off, orange skin and slices flying everywhere.

“Fuck you! I want ice cream! I want bananas and steak and potatoes and tacos and—!" 

-

He bares his teeth in a snarl, deep angered eyes casting downward with each poignant rut. “You're so annoying, so goddamn spoiled,” he grunts. His huge hands are wrapped around the top of your head and  cupping your jaw and bulging cheek, keeping you in place as he pushes his length into your mouth over and over again. “You’re gonna do shit when I tell you, the first time I say—shit—fuck there we go—gonna listen—unnggghhfff—listen ta me from now on. Just be my good little silent. Slutty. Pregnant. Wife.”

Your teary eyes are fixed upward at his imposing figure. Feeling each time his tip nudges the back of your throat has you gagging but you can’t pull away to breathe—not that you want to.

“You get—what I give ya—and you be grateful bout it.”

You gargle a moan in agreement. His balls slap against your chin with brutal punches. by this time tomorrow, there will be Joel-finger prints bruising your face and neck.

You love it. You love it when Joel forces you out of the hormonal phase of bossing him around, the endless need to want more and more, no end in sight to your greedy gluttonous desires, until he’s blowing up and blowing off steam using you instead. And it becomes very clear to you how much you just really wanted him this whole time. 

“That’s it—that’s it—you were hungry for my cock weren’t ya? Yeahhhh. Just begging me all night for it. Wanted all that meat for dinner, huh? Couldn’t just come out n’ say it? Your little brain didn’t know what ya truly needed. S’okay, Momma. I’m takin’ care of ya, aren’t I?”

The gluglugglug sounds mixed with strained pitchy whines echo in the master bedroom.

You grip his thighs with your hands to steady yourself, allowing him to abuse your throat. Maybe your knees hurt. Maybe the baby is settling uncomfortably against your lower back, and maybe it’s going to be really difficult to get up from this position in a few minutes. But each thick throb of his length filling your mouth over and over again, the spit slick strings dropping from your lips to your swollen tits, and the dent in your throat from his cock stretching to accomodate his size has your swollen pussy dripping into the carpet for more, more, more. 

It’s been at least a week since Joel drained himself. No wonder he’s been so on edge with each demand. Usually marveling how cute you are, but tonight he was at him limit. You were about to get a hefty, Joel Miller sized load filling your belly, and it’s going to be better than any cookie, steak, or orange in the entire world.

He feels the way your lips suction tighter. Your eyes are leaking tears, and he smirks as he brushes his thumb over to collect it. Briefly bringing it to his tongue and sucking on the salty taste before holding your head in place. 

“Shhh-shhhhhhhh. You gonna take it? Shit—shit—fuck yeah you are. Gonna fuckin take what I give ya, that’s right. My sweet wife. Bossing me around. Shit. Love when ya get like this. Known I’m gonna wreck that ass or that pussy or that mouth—all belongs to me. Fuck—fuck—fuuckk—“

His mouth drops into an o, brows drawn tightly together as slams his pulsing member balls deep into your mouth one final time. You choke, eyes wide as the tip of his cock breaches the deepest part of your throat, your nose suffocated by his pubic hairs and the fat of his lower belly surrounding your cheeks. His balls twitch against your lower lip, and you feel it coming. The travel of his seed from his sack, up his shaft along your tongue—a generous spurt of cum finally shooting from his tip and down your throat. You gag with each fat load that he pumps down your esophagus, too much to swallow at once yet having no other choice but to gulp it down quickly. Your face feels hot. He’s cumming endlessly, your mind blanking and eyes feeling blurry.

“Take it, take it, take it, that’s it,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

You nod just a little, hugging your arms around his thick thighs tighter. He grins, humming “That’s my good fucking wife, and throws his head as the last of his pleasure makes its way safely from his sated balls to your full womb.

Joel pulls you off his length gently. You sputter out cum and saliva onto his feet, sucking in air through your lungs like a newborn. 

Joel gets to one knee, his thumb pressed gently under your chin so you look directly at him. He’s got such softness in his eyes again, the ones that just switch on a dime the second he’s satisfied his aggress out on you. 

You’re completely wrecked: snot spit connecting to your nostrils and swollen lips, cheeks warm and eyes puffy and hazy with exhaustion and tears.

“That—mmffffgg!—was—definitely—my—snack,” you rasp with a hoarse voice. A lazy grin spread across your face only briefly as you continue to suck air.

Joel shakes his head before planting a long kiss atop your forehead. his hands glide along your body, and just in time as your knees give way and you’re falling into him. 

If you had half the mind right now, you’d curse him out for scooping you up and carrying you to bed like his once youthful bride, too concerned with the size and weight of your new body putting unnecessary stress on his aging knees and back. But Joel doesn’t protest once. Just watches you with loving eyes as he settles you into the soft bed. His tongue dips to your chest and breasts, kissing and sucking away any remnants of his rough face fucking. His cum, your spit, and fuvk it, even the little snot specks—all of it he cleans up before coming up to your lips. He kisses you softly with gentle pecks, enough to ensure you can still catch your breath. He sucks your lower lip into your mouth before wiping his own with his thumb. You’re calmer now, sated and drifting so close to sleep.

Joel clambers into bed next to you, wrapping his arm under your head and swaddling you close. You instinctively roll into his embrace. Kissing his peck and rubbing your face against him dreamily with soft breaths. “Tha hit ther spert juss rite. Ur da bess, Jol.”

“I know. So are you.” He waits for a reply, but nothing comes from you. “Are you goin’ into a food coma, baby?”

Your gentle snores answer him, along with the drool now pooling on his peck.

He chuckles and pulls your head into his face, inhaling your scent. Strong, secure, graceful hands caress your big belly. Your very very full belly, the one that he’s not going to envy when it gives you a the tummy ache tomorrow from stuffing it with so much junk food tonight. 

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop

[genshinarchives]

Cyno, Al-Haitham, Tighnari / gender-neutral reader.

Synopsis: You ask him if you could sit on his lap.

#CYNO

"Come here."

You haven't even said anything yet and he's already pulling you onto his lap, which surprises you. When you ask him what he's doing, he replies that he can already tell what you want from the look in your eyes, and he seems somewhat embarrassed after revealing this fact to you.

Cyno has never admitted it out loud, but he enjoys having you sit on his lap. You feel soft and warm against his toned body, and cuddling you after an exhausting day is his ideal way of recharging himself. He likes to settle his arms around your waist whilst resting his head on your nape, his thumbs gingerly caressing your sides; having you squirm and stutter on his lap rouses some sort of twisted amusement in him.

He's not a man of many words and is quite straightforward, which makes him a little awkward when it comes to intimacy. Despite that, he wants to let you know how much he loves you, and he does it through actions like this. Cyno pays a lot of attention to you and will gladly indulge you with the physical affection he can easily give you.

#AL-HAITHAM

"You're not a child."

Al-Haitham thinks that sitting on someone's lap is inappropriate for an adult like you, so he'd reject the idea without a second thought.

"Fine... I guess I'll ask Aether." The moment those words leave your mouth, he pins you against the nearest wall with a darkened gaze. You didn't think he'd take your joke seriously so you could only shrink under the intense look in his eyes.

"Do you always go to him when I'm unable to fulfill your requests?" he asks in a low voice. He sounds annoyed, and you could pretty much figure out why.

Before you could reply, Al-Haitham drags you to the nearest chair, which is by a table in front of Lambad's Tavern. As he takes a seat, he tugs your arm, forcing you to plop yourself down on his lap. Lambad then approaches your table with two menus as mirth flickers in his eyes, and Al-Haitham proceeds to ignore your protests while knowing very well that this is embarrassing for you. If you want to sit on someone's lap, you can only sit on his.

#TIGHNARI

"(Y/n)... You're an adult."

Tighnari would immediately shoot the idea down albeit gently, thinking that sitting on another's lap is too childish for someone your age. He's amused at the dejected sound you made and returns to the patrol log he's currently writing.

When he hears you call his name, he looks at you with an arched eyebrow. You seem to be saying something, but he couldn't make out your words because of how quiet you are. He's then taken by surprise when you suddenly let out a cry like a baby, and realises that you haven't given up on wanting to sit on his lap.

Tighnari would eventually relent to your stubbornness and beckons to you. As you happily sit on his lap, he nuzzles the crook of your neck, noticing how nice you smell. If you try get up after a while, he'd wrap an arm around your waist tightly to silently tell you that you'll be staying here until he's done with his work for the day.

Taglist: @coco-goat-milk​ @m3gitsune @melkxsh @irethepotato @frostines-blog @crunchy-princeles @mizukisfanpage @nanamisflowerfield @dulcetamore @myevergarden

[bagopucks]

J. Hughes - Mine All Mine

✄————————————

Jack Hughes x Fem!reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 1.6k

Warning(s): Relationship insecurities, minor angst

—————————————

Nobody embodied black cat and golden retriever like Jack and I. Heart warming and full of wonder clashed in a crunchy harmony with indifference and a guarded personality. Jack had an innocence that made him special. I sometimes wondered just how blind he was to the cruelties of the world, but I never dared to ruin that part of him. I envied Jack in only the way a girlfriend could. I wished I could see the world the way he did, and yet I knew I never would. My mind had been tainted by past and present. By reality and technology. While Jack seemed so perfectly protected from the atrocities of life, I seemed to always encounter them.

I saw Jack as an angel. Heaven sent. Myself? I was merely a tainted soul who’d gotten lost on the way to hell. My darkness made his light all the more prominent.

“I love that movie!” His loud voice carried across the venue. I peered over my glass of wine toward a table full of seated men and women. Jack was always so social. Especially at parties. Despite my love for weddings, I was not as outwardly jovial. I had a subtle adoration for things. A solemn love. I liked to sit and observe, and enjoy things alone. At least that was the way I had been before Jack. He was one of the only people who had ever been able to breach my walls.

People often told Jack he was too loud, how amusing was it that I was one of the only people who loved his volume. His expressiveness.

Though I did not crack a smile, my eyes lingered. And my heart thudded. Jack looked amazing. I prayed for the day that we too could be like the couple sitting alone enjoying a meal with fresh rings on their fingers, preparing to lay up our treasures together in our new home. My eyes locked with the woman next to Jesper. Our lingering gazes broke when her lips parted, and the distain in the woman’s expression spoke volumes despite her whispers.

I was not blind to the general disliking people took to me. Nobody ever understood how Jack and I were together, or how we worked. People were open about their disinterest in our relationship. A disrespectful and hurtful thing in many ways. But I had never been one to express my pain that others inflicted. I understood their concern, and yet it hurt all the same.

In truth, I too questioned my relationship with Jack. I feared I brought him down. I feared being with him did the exact opposite of what I swore to do when I chose to love him. I feared I held his wonder back.

I watched the woman’s distain shift into disgust. Jack seemed to reply to her words, but I could barely focus on him when she looked so… displeased. My heart sank. People often said I did not try hard enough to make Jack happy, and that was an easy factor to believe if nobody ever saw us in private. Though at first I used to scoff and roll my eyes, the more it was said, the more I began to believe.

I lost interest in the expensive wine I held, placing the glass down harder than I expected on the table. Maroon liquid rained down stop the white tablecloth. Smoothing out the wrinkles in my dress before I stood, I drew in a steadying breath. I needed a break from the party.

I found my way to the back of the large venue, pushing open one of the doors into the hallway. A cold gust of air hit my bare shoulders, causing me to shiver. The crowd inside the reception hall had made the room fairly hot. I did not expect the major temperature change.

My pace slowed as I found myself in a safer space, out of the vision of prying gazes. I strolled down the hall, my eyes settling on the strings of photos of the bride and groom. I envied how wide the bride seemed to make the groom smile in every photo. I never had that effect on Jack. I was not hilarious or quick witted. I had no great jokes, and even my accidents were never humorous. Of course Jack would argue, but I never agreed with him. Was I everything Jack needed? Or was everyone right? My heart hurt at the idea. Was I holding Jack back? Another shiver caused my hands to wrap around my own body. I rubbed my arms in hopes of warming up, my eyes locking on a photo of the beautiful couple at the last All Stars red carpet. Even in public, the bride could put on a show. Emotional loneliness quickly snuck up on me. Jack never had to worry about being unfulfilling in our relationship. Nobody questioned if he was doing enough. Nobody judged him. He didn’t understand. Nobody did.

“It’s freezing out here.” The loneliness only deepened at the sound of his voice. I was so enveloped in my own mind that I didn’t truly register Jack’s presence until he was draping his suit jacket over my shoulders, and wrapping his arms around my frame. I leaned into his chest, instinctually.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you are tonight?” Jack always knew how to settle in my presence. As much as I loved his loud and energetic side, I loved his quiet and sweet side even more. Jack surprised me with how intimate he could make almost any situation. Even this, standing together in solemn silence, feet away from a room full of people.

“Jack,” I spoke in return, turning my head to rest my cheek on his shoulder.

“I know.” He whispered. “I always know.” He didn’t always have the right things to say, but Id give him credit for knowing what to say about 90% of the time. I stood silently in his arms, uncertain of how to respond. How to open up. “Jesper’s girlfriend doesn’t know shit.” He broke the silence, “She doesn’t know you.” Addressing the topic never seemed to make it better. At least not in the moment. Tears threatened to ruin my maskera. “It’s just talk. That’s all it ever is. They don’t know you.” His grip tightened on me, and I shook my head. I would never see myself the way Jack saw me.

“What if everybody’s right? What if you’re just blind to my flaws because you think you love me?” I whispered, averting my gaze to the ceiling in a feeble attempt to avoid shedding any tears.

“Baby, I’m not blind to your flaws. I know you have ‘em, and I love every single one. But don’t you ever think that your personality is a flaw.” I tensed as Jack’s arms released me from their grip, but I allowed him to spin me around so we could stand face to face. His warm hand gently cupped my jaw, and I found myself yearning to be perfect for him. Wishing that I could be more deserving of the man in front of myself.

“Everybody tells me I’m too loud, and everybody tells you that you’re too quiet. We just balance each other out, eh?” He flashed a tiny grin in my direction. “There’s always gonna be haters, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I love you.” I finally mustered the ghost of a smile, blinking to try and rid of the tears quickly.

“Even when I’m antisocial?” I prodded softly, maybe to boost my own ego. I reached upwards to wipe my tears, only for Jack to grab my hand and wipe them for me.

“Your silence is so hot.” I found amusement in his words, as well as embarrassment. I felt heat rise to my cheeks as an involuntary laugh parted my lips. “There’s my girl.” Jack brushed a lock of hair behind my ear, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “Proving everybody wrong one grin at a time.” The brunette grabbed ahold of my other hand, taking a backwards step and urging me to follow with a gentle tug. “Come dance with me. Please. I’ve wanted to get you in my arms all night.”

How could a woman feel any more wanted?

“Let me love you, please.”

How could a woman say no?

“My love..” I whispered, reluctant to move.

“In front of everyone else.” Jack insisted. “I want them to know I’m happy.” His words took the breath from my lips. The tears returned, but for more positive reasons.

“You’re happy,” I echoed as a gentle reminder to myself.

“I’ve never been happier.” I finally relented, moving along with Jack back through the hallway. Alongside him, I felt much less anxious about being observed by the crowd. I avoided their gazes as we entered the reception hall once more, hand in hand. Jack led me effortlessly toward the dance floor, at a steady but comfortable pace. I refused to allow my eyes to leave his frame, even as he pulled me into the middle of the floor, enveloping me in his arms all over again. The embrace was warm and safe. I rested my head against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat as he slowly began to sway. I allowed his movements to shift my own body, closing my eyes to take it all in.

“Fuck ‘em all.. yeah?” Jack whispered in my ear. I chuckled.

“I like that.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

[xabarik]

гниль // the rot

text from pic: what are you thinking about? thinking about what you are? thinking about biting into an apple and finding soft flesh in it? it's always meat. soft, warm, with crunchy bones where it's deeper. where your fangs press against muscles, where tendons creak on your teeth. look through the prism of your useless power and see what's in the glass is true — there are abilities beyond the mind, there are infinite number of planes. there is not you feeding on other people's minds. there is not you swallowing meat. you are the rot.

hope translation is correct rrrrgh yay for allegories i guess and yay!! my exams are over (no, there's three more) so a little sketch because i love andrey

андрейка под *почти* окончание экзов ура ура маленький скетч под настроение, люблю андрейку

[luveline]

hi jade! can I make a request for kbd au, maybe one of the girls gets sick or is in the hospital and Steve and r trying to take care of her and the other girls but are worried themselves. pls ignore if you don’t like this love your writing:)))

ty for requesting! ily i hope this is ok ♡ kisses before dinner —you and beth spend some time in the hospital. mom!reader, 1.5k

“Mom?” 

“Yeah?” 

Bethie looks up in your lap with red-rimmed eyes, her eyelids puffy. They look so sore. You bring your hand up to touch her cheek. 

“When's everyone coming back?” 

You lean back in her hospital bed and pull her against your chest. “Soon, baby. So soon. Are you missing everyone?” 

“Yeah. Avery said, um, that she would let me,” —she rubs her little nose into your collar— “sleep in her bed with her when I go home.” 

Bethie will be sleeping in your bed for a while so you can keep an eye on her, but you let her believe it because she sounds very eager. 

For now, you aren't sure when she'll be going home, but certainly not tonight. She's having trouble breathing at night, and her skin warms yours with the intensity of a space heater. “You're not enjoying our big sleepover?” you ask. Four days and counting, you've slept here every night in chairs slumped over her lap or briefly in the foldout cot beside her. 

She was too sick to remember the first two days, but now she's getting better she's realised you're doing something strange together, and she may be poorly, but she seems particularly pleased to have your undivided attention. “I love it!” she says in a rush, prompting a wracking cough into your shirt. You rub her back. “Sorry.” 

“If you need to cough, you do it, baby.” You bring a tissue up to her mouth and clean away the spittle. “Don't be sorry. Cough all over me.” 

You hold her close. You didn't need Steve to tell you to take care of her to do it, but you can't get the memory of the run up to Beth's hospital stay out of your head.

I think– I think we need to take her to Urgent Care. His sickly terror, but his surety, too. Steve was gonna make whatever decision he needed to and you couldn't have stopped him (and wouldn't want to). By the time you called Robin to watch the others, your girl getting sicker and sicker, Beth couldn't keep her eyes open. 

Not you nor Steve nor Beth made it home that night. Steve, squinting with a migraine, had relented in the early morning. You'll stay and I'll go home, he'd said. You wouldn't call it selfish to want to be the one to stay, but it was selfless of him to volunteer to go home. He hasn't once asked you to leave her side. So you look after her for me, too. You have to do double. 

“Here, my love,” you murmur, bringing a sippy cup to her lips. Doesn't matter that she's too old for it. “It's just juice, don't worry. No more medicine.” 

“I miss daddy,” she says, pushing the cup away. 

“I know. He should be here any minute now, yeah? And when he comes he's going to be all worried and bossy about how you're feeling, so let's drink this juice. It'll make your voice less crackly.” 

“Is it crackly?” she asks, surprised. 

“Yeah, babe,” you say with a laugh, “it's like crunchy sugar, you can't hear it?”

“What?” she asks, giggling between little coughs. 

You hold her cup to her lips. She values her father's esteem for you, drinking her juice and settling back into your arms just in time for him to arrive. He has yet to be mad at you during this time, but you're sure he'd threaten violence if Bethie wasn't getting all the attention and care that could possibly be given. The first thing he says is, “Hello, my girl, how are you feeling today?” 

You try not to rush her out of your arms and into his, but he has company. Steve picks Bethie up from your arms with the same slow hesitance he'd hold a newborn, his lips quick to the top of her head. “Sweetheart,” he says softly, “hello,” before he goes completely silent. 

Robin stands behind him with your teeny tiny baby held in her car carrier with both hands, and Avery and Dove toddle in front of them with matching grins. You slink off of the bed and crouch down, nearly knocked on your butt as they rush you. 

“I missed you! I missed you so much!” you shower their cheeks with kisses before pulling them in for hugs. Over their heads, you give Robin your best smile. “How's she doing?” 

“She misses you. Or she hates me. Either or.” 

“You're the best friend in the entire world.” You close your eyes into the cuddling. “She loves you.” 

Steve sits down on the side of the bed and rubs Bethie's back, all but covering the short breadth of it with spread fingers stroking up and down. “You look better today,” he says. He speaks softly. You have to strain to understand him. “Did mommy give you a shower? You look sparkly clean.” 

Bethie curls into him. 

“I missed you,” he says. “I miss you every second you're not home, I can't wait for you to come home.” He looks up at you. You shake your head gently. “But how about this hospital bed, huh? This looks comfy. Can I lie down?” 

Steve lays down in the bed with Beth against his chest. He looks super tired, his eyes wrinkled in the corners and his jaw set in pain. Bethie rises up to squish her cheek against his. Steve makes a kiss sound. “Aw, Beth. Love you.” 

Dove wants to be on the bed —this is a vaguely new place to her and she's a toddler. She whines until you lift her up, while Robin puts Wren's car seat in a vinyl chair and sets about unclicking her straps.

“Is she feeling better?” Avery asks, holding up her hands. 

You walk into her outstretched arms. “She is. Not one hundred percent better, but better. She just needs to stay a little bit longer.” 

“How long?” 

“What did the doctor say this morning, Beth?” you ask with a smile. “Just one more night for checks. Then hopefully tomorrow we can all go home.” 

It takes a while to get everyone settled. Robin sits in one of the chairs and you the other, Wren placed in her car carrier to your left. Avery climbs into your lap, and you find no reason to dissuade her from sprawling backwards, her head under your chin. Steve hugs Beth with a palpable relief about him, though he holds Dove's hand when the smaller girl insists. It's surprisingly peaceful. There's nothing to do but wait for your girl to get better. 

“I missed you,” Steve says again, Beth hanging on his every word, “I can't remember the last time you spent so long away from home. Are you and mommy having a good time?” 

“My–” Beth struggles for words, her chest giving a weak wheeze, “my voice is funny.” 

“You think so?” He brings his legs up, eyes closing as Beth does the same. “Sounds the same to me.” 

You can't miss the way he's hugging her. You've never seen him so relieved. It lingers in his every touch, every word he says, even as he makes his silly jokes. 

Steve spends at least ten minutes like that laying with them before he looks up. “Ave, you still need the bathroom?” 

Avery jolts. “Thanks for reminding me!” She springs up on her feet. “Mom, will you come with me?” 

“Sure I will.” You stand with her, giving Wren a quick glance over before sidling up to the side of the bed. Steve looks up at you funny. “Steve?” 

“What?” 

You lean down to his ear. “Honey, will you stay with Beth tonight? Just so I can see the baby? I can't stand being away from Beth when she's sick, but I'm really worrying about her,” you whisper. 

Steve's eyes widen. “Are you sure?” 

He's not stupid. He knows what you're doing. 

You nod quickly. You could say a lot of things to him —of course I'm sure, you should've stayed two days ago, you've been so good letting me be here with her— but Avery tugs on your hand, winging, and you only have time to touch Beth's back. She'll be in good hands. 

Beth is upset to see you go that night, but she missed her dad. Steve hugs each of the girls in turn while Beth lays tucked in bed, even Robin, who laughs and complains about his touchiness and how it gets worse every year. You wait with them in your coat for your turn, sick to your stomach.

“I'll call you before nine,” he promises, squeezing you tightly. “You did such a good job, Y/N.” 

“...What, no joke about leaving it to the pro?” 

“I'm being thoughtful.” Steve kisses you, hugs you again, kisses you a second time. He can't decide what he's doing. “I love you. I'll see you in the morning.” 

You kiss his cheek. It takes you another fifteen minutes to leave, busy making Bethie promises. I'll see you tomorrow, I love you so much, brave girl, your dad's gonna take the best best best care of you ever. And then we're gonna spend the next week in bed so we can stop missing each other so much. 

[kiss-theggoat]

Homesick

Thomas Sawyer x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: After being dragged away from your home at the Sawyer house, you finally make your way back home with some especially exciting news.

TW: Mentions of violence, some blood

The way you ended up here, nauseous, sweaty, and exhausted on the side of a familiar highway was an extremely long story. Your long walk gave you time to reminisce.

The group came into town just like the rest. Hoyt on their tail and Thomas acting as an evil henchman, the only thing on his mind was you, waiting for him with a kind smile and warm hug. He begrudgingly loaded two girls into the car and slammed the door shut, splattering some blood from a previous victim. One of the girls was unconscious and bloodied, the other screaming and kicking at the door. Thomas was tired, and he just wanted to get home to you.

Lately he’d been letting his mind wander. Allowing himself to daydream and realizing that there’s nothing wrong with the little universe he’s created in his mind. He closes his eyes and transports himself to that world. You and him own a small house, cozy and filled with little trinkets he makes or collects for you, on a small plot of farmland where a wildflower garden that you planted thrives. He walks into the homely kitchen and sees you in front of a window, curtains billowing around your glowing skin, sunlight illuminating every part of your face Thomas loved most.

You were hard at work on a meal for the two of you. His heart swelled with the thought of indulging in something that you put your love into. He walks towards you and places his hands around your waist, feeling the soft baby bump there. Pride blooms within him and he-

“Dammit, boy, pay attention!” A thump to the side of the head yanks him away from you like a fish being pulled from the depths of the ocean. He hadn’t even noticed that the window had started to crack from the girl's struggle.

Meanwhile, you sat at home, cleaning yours and Thomas’ room while listening to the crackly radio that he’d found for you in town. You loved music so having it was a must, even if it was only a couple crappy radio stations. The only thing that distracted you from your task was the sound of a car pulling up to the house, crunchy gravel revealing its location. Tommy was home. You beamed, even though you knew to stay downstairs for a little while, until he sorted everything out. So, that’s exactly what you did. You say anxiously in waiting, staring at the door like a hawk and waiting for your love to hulk down those stairs like he always did.

But instead, the door slammed against the side wall, making you gasp and jump from your seat. You saw a man and a woman, both bloodied and panting, the man leaning against the woman and he definitely looked more damaged than she did. She hobbled downstairs, whimpering and crying. “We have to get out of here!”

You stuttered, but no words would leave you. She thought you were a survivor. A prisoner kept by the Sawyer’s. She reached forward and grabbed your hand, yanking you surprisingly hard for someone who seemed to have lost half of her blood. Next thing you knew, you were in a sputtering truck, tears streaming down your face and worry suffocating you. If they got away, where was everyone else? Was Thomas okay? What about Luda Mae?

As you walked under the relentless Texas sun, you realized, you still didn’t know if they were okay or not. You hoped with everything inside you that Thomas was safe. At least from your damage control, you knew the cops would never be a problem for him.

When you arrived in north Texas, you were questioned over and over and over again. Everyone was, but the only advantage you had over them was that you knew everything about the Sawyer household. The rest of the kids didn’t even seem to remember what Highway they were on when they got pulled over. The only detail they could give police was that the town they were in was near Austin. Which, in Texas, meant nothing.

You, on the other hand, slowly and carefully revealed a new piece of evidence each time, effectively leading the investigation towards the opposite side of the city. After the intense questioning, you were finally free.

The options you had were horrible. The cops were offering transportation. But, accepting their transportation meant leading them to Thomas. You had no money, no car, and had no idea where you were. But, through a few illicit activities, you gained access to a really, really shitty car that barely got you halfway home.

Which led you to where you are now. Sweating through all of your clothes, sunburnt, and one second away from blowing chunks all over the highway. That really shitty car had blown out on you, probably something with the radiator being baked in the hottest Texas summer in years. You felt like sobbing. You didn’t know if Thomas was okay, and if he wasn’t, what would you do with the rest of your life? Thomas had become your life. Especially now.

You flashed back to the first stop in your new shitty car was an equally shitty gas station, where you gathered some food and water through flirting with the geriatric cashier, and also stole a pregnancy test from the shelf as you left the station. You had suspicions of being pregnant after the third day of waking up with intense nausea, feeling like you were going to start sobbing if you opened your eyes too wide. Thomas had mentioned having a baby a few times, but you’d never actually put a lot of effort into trying.

As you sat on the dingy toilet, you watched the second pink line slowly materialize. You were a huge mixture of emotion, happiness that you had created life. A shared life with the man that you loved more than anything else in the world. But, you wished for nothing more than to run to Thomas and tell him, which you couldn’t do. You didn’t even know if he was even alive.

The walk along the side of the highway had started to look familiar, the highway getting smaller and the area getting more and more rural. You felt like collapsing, but needed to get home. The heat of the sun beat down on your poor cheeks and you could tell that you were sunburnt. Sweat dripped into your eyes, obscuring your view of the upcoming road sign. The fabric of your shirt grated against your sunburnt face as you wiped your eyes, but you saw the light.

Gas

N xt Ex

The rundown, faded red sign was like a sign from the heavens. You knew that the Sawyer’s station was at the next exit.

The little bell above the door jingled, kissing your ear drums as you entered your sanctuary.

“We’re outta gas.” Luda grumbled, flipping her magazine without even looking up at you.

You smiled, missing her so much you felt like tackling her over the counter. “Luda…” you said, tears welling in your eyes. You walked towards the counter as her head shot up.

“Oh my god, we thought we’d never see you again, dear!” She stands and walks around the counter, holding her arms out to you in a motherly embrace.

You cried into her chest, unable to hold it in any longer. You were so upset and exhausted, needing one thing right now. “Where’s Thomas?”

“Oh he’ll be so happy to see you…” she smiled, lovingly stroking your hair. “He’s been so upset this last week. He’s at the house with Hoyt, let me give him a call.”

You watched her dial the phone, waiting in excitement for your Thomas.

Thomas was in the basement as usual, sewing himself a new mask. His body felt numb, like it had this entire week. Without you, he realized he was empty. Nothing mattered. Life was worthless without you in it.

“Tommy!” The door slammed open, Hoyt standing at the top of the stairs. “Luda needs us at the station.”

Thomas stood, head down as he climbed the stairs. The entire drive to the station was silent and melancholy, Thomas staring out the window. Gravel crunched under the wheels as they approached the station, and even though Thomas was still in the car, he watched as the front door to the station opened. His heart nearly leapt from his chest, and he shoved the car door open before Hoyt even stopped the car.

You watched Thomas rush out of the car, moving the fastest you’ve ever seen in your entire relationship. The smile on your face made your cheeks ache, and when Thomas reached you, his strong arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you off the ground.

“Tommy! I’m so glad you’re okay! I was so scared, I’m so sorry that it took me so long to get to you!” Again, you couldn’t help but cry. The tears streamed from your face at the feeling of being embraced by Thomas. He was your home. He made you feel safe.

He shook his head and set you back down on the ground, holding the sides of your face to wipe your tears away, but his eyebrows furrowed in concern when he noticed how sunburnt you were.

“I’m okay, Tommy. I promise.” You whispered, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his. “And I have something to tell you.”

Thomas stared into your eyes and nodded slowly, letting you know he’s ready for you to speak.

“I’m pregnant.” You said, smile widening again.

You thought that Thomas’ heart might burst. His eyes went wide as saucers and he perked up, staring at you in shock for a moment. Once the shock passed, he pulled you into the tightest hug you’d ever received. Thomas moved a step back, staring down at your stomach with eyes full of admiration, his large hands gently touching the sides of your stomach.

You knew that Thomas would be the best partner you could ever ask for, and the best father your baby could ever ask for.

[wheels-of-despair]

The Best $7 Eddie Munson Ever Spent Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: In the fall of 1983, Eddie bought something he thought was cool… but he didn't realize how important it was until a year later. Contains: Uncle Wayne, shopping, time-jumping, snuggles, a little bit of Eddie and Evil Woman's early days. Words: 1.3k

The best $7 Eddie Munson ever spent was at a thrift store just outside of Hawkins, Indiana, in the fall of 1983.

But he didn't know it until a year later.

The night before his Uncle Wayne disappeared for Thanksgiving - the man had worked overtime on every holiday he could, since he'd determined that Eddie could take care of himself - he slapped $40 on the kitchen table between their TV dinners.

"Wha'sis for?" Eddie asked through a mouthful of noodles.

"Don't talk with your mouth full."

Eddie swallowed and repeated, "What's this for?"

"Sales everywhere on Friday. Go get yourself a new coat, it's supposed to be a bad winter. And a pair of gloves that still has the damn fingers in them. Looks like I'm raisin' a hobo."

"Does not," Eddie mumbled as he swirled his fork around the pasta in his bowl. He liked his old coat… even though it was faded. And coming apart at the seams in a few places. And the cuffs were so frayed, every time he tried putting it on, his fingers got caught in the threads. And there was that hole from when he'd gotten caught on a chain-link fence during a high-speed getaway. But he'd patched it! And the gloves he'd cut the fingers out of were cool!

Wayne looked up from the piece of bread he was buttering to give his nephew a pointed stare.

"Fine," Eddie gave in. "Thanks, Uncle Wayne."

"Yeah, yeah." The old man's eyes twinkled as he waved off his nephew's thanks and took another bite.

Being a practical and frugal-minded teen, Eddie started the search for a coat at his favorite thrift store.

"Hey, kid," greeted George, the store's owner, who barely looked up from the battered Tupperware he was sticking price tags on. "Just got a pile of 8-tracks, haven't even priced 'em yet, you interested?"

"Business before pleasure," Eddie grinned at the gray-haired man. "I come seeking winter-wear."

"Winter-wear, huh? Good call. Heard it's gonna be a rough one."

"Yeah, that's what my uncle said, too," Eddie nodded.

"Check the back wall, might be somethin' back there that'll fit ya."

"Thanks!" Eddie carefully treaded through the crowded aisles of discarded treasures and found the wall of outerwear. He flipped through cheap plastic hangers holding neon windbreakers, matted fake fur, and load of crunchy raincoats that reeked of cheaper cigarettes than his. And then… he found it.

It was long, and black, and it was way too big for him.

But when he put it on and turned around, it swished around his calves and made him feel like a vampire in a cloak.

Eddie walked to the grubby mirror leaned up against the wall and checked himself out. It was whole. Almost new, even. It was warm, and he could easily fit it on over the lighter leather jacket and battle vest he wore year-round. He lifted his arms out, and the fabric rippled to his sides. He reached for the edges and pulled them away from his body, holding them out to see just how big the coat was.

It made him look like a bat.

He lifted the paper price tag attached to a button-hole by a string.

$10? Sold.

He twirled in the mirror, watching the fabric rustle and sway around him like a creature of the night. He held up an arm to cover his mouth, like he was hiding his fangs. Yep. This is it. This is the one.

He took it off and draped it over his shoulder, deciding to see if any cool t-shirts had arrived since last he'd looked. He sorted through the rack quickly. Nothing new, but you can't win 'em all.

Eddie returned to the front with the coat, and George laughed when he spotted it. "Kid, I could fit five of you in that thing."

"I like it," Eddie grinned. "It's roomy. How 'bout those 8-tracks?"

George heaved the box full of newly acquired 8-tracks onto the counter so Eddie could dig through them. It was mostly show tunes and Christmas music, but he enjoyed the hunt nonetheless.

"Nothin'?" George asked when Eddie looked up.

Eddie shook his head. "A Partridge Family Christmas isn't really my style."

George laughed and scribbled ".50 each" on the flap of the cardboard box. "Will you find a spot for that in the front window?"

"Yessir." Eddie picked up the hefty box and walked it to the front of the store. He moved some creepy dolls and nudged a red tricycle aside to make room, placed the box down with the price facing the window, and returned to the counter.

"Just the coat, then?"

"Yessir."

"$7."

"$7?" Doesn't the tag say $10?

"That thing takes up too much room. I can fit four more in its place."

Eddie grinned and passed his cash to the man behind the counter.

"I'd ask if you want a bag, but I don't think I have any I could fit that monstrosity in," George teased as he handed Eddie his change.

"Thanks, George," Eddie laughed and collected his coat. "See ya soon."

"Stay warm, kid."

The morning Wayne came home from his long and tiring holiday stretch, he found far more change than he'd expected on the table, two pairs of new gloves… and a hulking mass of black draped over the back of a chair.

Wayne picked up the coat and held it out in front of him, marveling at its size. Well, it was warm, didn't have any holes in it, and clearly hadn't cost an arm and a leg. He folded it and put it back where he found it, spotting a note underneath the cash.

"Coat was $7. It'll come in handy when I finally become a vampire."

Wayne snorted.

"Gloves were buy one, get one free. I can show you how to cut the fingers out of yours if you want to look as cool as me."

He rolled his eyes at the boy snoring down the hall, put down the note, and started getting ready for bed.

"Why is it so fucking cold? I'm freezing my balls off."

Eddie raised an eyebrow at his girlfriend of three months in the Hawkins High parking lot. Most of the sensible students went on inside when it was this cold, but his girl - who hated this place as much as he did - decided to stick it out with him outside until the bell rang and forced them in.

"Shut up, you know what I mean." Her eyes rolled and her teeth chattered.

He checked his watch - seven minutes before the bell - and took one last drag off his cigarette. He exhaled as he dropped the butt on the ground and put it out with a twist of his boot.

"Wanna go in?"

She shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself. Stubborn.

"C'mere, then." Eddie unbuttoned the massive black coat he'd bought the year before - now decorated with band buttons on the lapels - and held it open to her. Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "Come on," he urged.

She looked at him suspiciously. Shit, was this weird? Was inviting your girl into a coat cocoon more of a six-month thing? And then she walked into him. He wrapped his arms and his coat around them both and felt her relax against him almost instantly. She slowly slid her arms around his middle and rested her head in the crook of his neck. Oh god, oh god, did she just nuzzle her cheek into him?!?

Eddie was glad she couldn't see the grin on his face. He tilted his head down and let his hair fall around his face so no one else could see it either. He leaned his cheek against her head and inhaled the scent of her, closing his eyes and wishing the bell would never ring so they could stay just like this forever.

What had George said the day he bought this coat? That he could fit five people in there?

Eddie was quite happy with just two.

[writinground2]

Jawline - Alessia Russo

Based on this request;

Alessia wakes up in pain but is too stubborn to admit it to reader, but all reader wants to do is make less feel better and figure out why she’s in pain but again less is refusing to reader that something isn’t right.

Alessia groaned when she woke up. She went to shove her head under her pillow, but stiffened up when her fist bumped her cheek, she let out another groan in pain. Taking a deep breath to try tune out the pain radiating from her jawline. 

“Mornin’ love,” Y/N made her way to place a delicate kiss on Alessia’s cheek. The blonde attempted to stifle her groan of pain, focusing on keeping her head still. 

“What’s wrong?” Y/N brings a hand up to grip Alessia’s jaw, who quickly grasps her wrists to prevent it, pushing her head backwards into the pillows. 

“Nothing,” she’s quick to defend, rolling over to push herself out of bed. 

Y/N doesn’t look convinced but lets it go for the time being, “alright, I have breakfast ready.” 

Alessia nods, keeping her back to Y/N to get dressed for her day. 

“Fuck,” she mutters when she sees the food spread out on the table. Y/N had assembled omelettes with meats and vegetables mixed in. Her mouth hurst at just the thought of having to bite through in the crunchy vegetables.

“Uh stubbed my toe,” Alessia pretends to limp for a second to convince Y/N. 

Y/N just furrows her brow and continues to eat, continuing to give Alessia an unconvinced look. 

Alessia tries to take a couple bites, working to chew on the opposite side of her mouth, before giving up and just works to pick the eggs apart. 

Looking up, she sees the concerned look Y/N is giving her, “I’m just not hungry this morning.” 

Y/N leans in close, starting to reach up to caress the blondes cheek, she redirects to her collar bone when she sees the pre-emptive wince Alessia gives. 

“What’s wrong Less?” 

Alessia pulls Y/N’s hand away by the wrist, shifting to hold her hand, “I’m alright.” 

Y/N rolls her eyes and pulls her hand away, “bullshit.” 

“Really babe, I feel totally fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

“Kiss me,” Y/N demands. 

Alessia looks at her confused, kissing wouldn’t prove anything, so she leans in. 

They kiss gently for a second, but when Alessia goes to pull away, Y/N shoots a hand up to gently grasp her jaw. As soon as her finger caress the tender muscles of her jaw, Alessia swears and pulls her head away sharply. 

“Totally fine my ass,” Y/N moves her hand to grip the back of her neck, soothing her thumb along the length of her neck. 

The two stare down, waiting for the other to cave. 

“I have training to get to,” Alessia whispers and pulls away.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong,” she calls to the retreating blonde. 

“Nothing to help! I’m fine!” 

That evening Alessia makes her way into their shared flat, immediately tipping her nose in the air to inhale the delicious smell she’s hit with. Making her way towards the kitchen where she hears Y/N moving around. 

She was tired, hungry, and sore. Having not eaten much at breakfast, lunch was no better. She had managed a protein shake during film, but it wasn’t enough. The pain in her jaw had steadily gotten worse throughout the day. Traffic on her way home had been horrible, making her drive home another thirty minutes. All she wanted was to burrow on the couch, with Y/N’s arms wrapped securely around her. 

Y/N guided the blonde to the couch before she could make it all the way to the kitchen. Dropping a quick kiss to the top of her head, she walked away without a word. She returned with a large bundle in her arms. Dropping them to the cushion beside the blonde, Alessia could feel the heat radiating from them, fresh from the dryer. 

Y/N sat in front of her on the coffee table, her hands unzipped Alessia’s jumper, pushing it from her shoulders, she quickly replaced it with a warm jumper from the dryer. Taking another blanket from the pile, she drapes it over the blondes’ legs before disappearing again. 

Alessia pulls the hood up, dipping her chin so her nose settles beneath the collar, she recognizes that it’s Y/N’s. She can already feel the tension of her day softening. 

Y/N returns with two large mugs in her hand, spoons sticking out of both. Wordlessly, she hands one off to Alessia before settling in next to her under the blankets. 

Steam wafts from the bowl, she pulls it to rest against her chest, sighing as the heat spreads throughout her. Stirring the liquid, she realizes there’s no solids, easily swallowed without chewing. Hungrily, she tips the mug back, not bothering with the spoon. 

Y/N chuckles and hands her mug over when she sees how quickly Alessia finishes hers. The blonde smiles at her in thanks and takes her time finishing the second mug of soup. 

As soon as the blonde finishes the second mug, Y/N takes both to the kitchen. Returning with an ice pack wrapped in a small towel. The two adjust to lay the length of the couch, Y/N pressed to the back and Alessia tight against her chest. Y/N holds the ice pack in place on Alessia’s sore jaw. 

Ten minutes later, Y/N tosses the ice pack on the floor, and wraps her arm around Alessia’s hip, tugging her closer. 

“You done pretending you’re fine?” Y/N noses the back of Alessia’s neck. 

Alessia huffs and wiggles herself even tighter into Y/N’s chest. 

“I dropped a dumbbell on my face yesterday.” 

“What?” Y/N tried to stifle her laughter. 

“Don’t laugh,” she pinches Y/N’s hand. 

“Ok, I’m sorry. How did you drop the weight on your face?”

The blonde sighs, not wanting to tell the story. 

“I was doing bench press with the dumbbells, and I sneezed,” she mumbles the last word, tucking her chin into the jumper again, “I turned my head to sneeze and the dumbbell tipped and hit my jaw. The trainers looked at it, they said it’s fine, just bruised.”

Y/N pushes herself up slightly, Alessia groaning at the loss. Y/N leans down, now noticing the small bruise on along the blonde’s jawline, dropping a gentle kiss in the centre, she settles back down. The blonde immediately shimmies her way back close to Y/N’s chest. 

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Love Sucks V. The Sickness

Vampire!Steve Harrington x fem!reader

He’s just a gloomy, little guy.

The Masterlist 🩸

Steve couldn’t get sick.

You knew that. He knew that. Steve knew that you knew that. The information had come after a long conversation underneath the warm sheets in your bed, hands clasped together between chests, noses almost touching, talking about how Steve had died.

How he hadn’t felt pain since, not unless he was hungry. He whispered about forgetting what it felt like to feel sickly, to have a stuffy nose when winter drew in, how the sting of sunburn felt on his skin in the summer. At first, you envied your boyfriend, longed for the immortality, the immunity. But living came with so many feelings and not all were good, not all were nice. But god, to feel meant that you were alive, right?

It’s why, when you came home from work one day to find Steve curled in your bed like a cat, you humoured him.

The vampire was pale, like always, a summer tan from who knows when faded and old, his hair unsettled and floppy, his eyes tired and red rimmed. He wasn’t too hungry, he’d just fed a few nights before but his fangs were out, two white tips peeking out his mouth. He was frowning, grumpy looking, nose wrinkled.

“Hey, handsome. S’wrong?” You crossed to your window, still open from the when Steve had shimmied it up and crawled in.

“I’m sick,” Steve coughed feebly, a fake sounding thing that didn’t really itch at the back of his throat but you cooed all the same. “I think I have the flu.”

You suppressed a smile, moving to crawl onto the bed with him. You didn’t tell him he couldn’t get sick, you didn’t like to remind the boy of his undead state - it didn’t seem polite. So you cooed again and sought him out under you duvet and pillows, threading your fingers through his hair as he stretched towards you, head seeking out your lap.

“You are?” You queried, voice filled with just as much concern as it would if Steve really was ill. “Baby. Can I get you anything?” You bit back another grin. “Soup? Medicine? A hot water bottle?”

‘Baby.’ Something inside Steve’s empty chest throbbed and ached. He felt warm.

You both knew Steve didn’t eat any real food, nothing solid anyway. He said pizza tasted like sand and anything too crunchy hurt his fangs so he lived off of coffee and he stole your ice cream in the summer. You also knew medicine wouldn’t do a thing for him, but the thought meant more than the reality.

When he pouted and nodded morosely, mumbling requests for a hot water bottle you fetched one and slid it under your sheets with him, relenting all too quickly when he pulled you in with it. He was cold, as usual, no fever to be found in his skin but you curled around him like you were willing him better, hiding your smile in his neck and pretending you didn’t see his grin either.

So you stayed like that until the sun set and the October chill leaked into your bedroom, until your stomach growled and Steve relented and released you from his arms. He pouted as you picked at some cheese fries, lingering in your kitchen like a ghost, waiting for you to be free once again, hands all for him instead of dinner.

“I’m sick,” he claimed again, forlorn, sniffling. “You gotta make me feel better.”

[bowieandqueen11]

Zoro Falling In Love With You Would Include...

Request: I've been binge watching one piece this Friday night so I could appreciate your recent requests and finally send one in! Please can you write for Zoro falling in love? 🥹❤️ I know you would do it amazingly!

Yayayay I've been waiting to write something like this for Zoro, thank you lovely!!! I had WAY too much fun writing this one I am so sorry if I went overboard on the imagery but also sorry not sorry I want to press a thousand kisses over this beautiful man's face

Okay this actually took way too much time to write so comments are much much appreciated!!

Warning: slightly suggestive if you squint, mention of scratching/ injuries and sword fighting

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @starryyshadows.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Oh, mosshead. What a dopey ass himbo you are. Istg this m*therf*cker right here (affectionate) would be so god damn ANNOYING when he's in love. Forget about Zoro nearly grabbing Sanji by his curly brows and swinging him like a ragdoll over the railings any time his continuous nosebleeds drip into his sake. Zoro is just as bad, just a needle swung in the opposite direction; he grumbles around the ship like a mopey, exasperated crocodile, snapping at anyone who comes near him that isn't you.

He wasn't built for love; hellfire roared through his veins, ravishing every cell in his body until his teeth gritted and lips bled in his struggle for self-discipline. He was a predator; rampant, ravaging, resolved in his fortitude. So why? Oh god, why? Why did he feel like he was being torn apart? Ravished by teeth that left rupturing silver punctures in his lungs, shredded by claws that streamed blinding light through the chambers of his heart.

He had felt like that: bent over doubled, clutching his chest in pain when the two of you first met as teenagers. If it hadn't been pitiful enough that you had bested him during your first sparring match at the Shimotsuki Dojo, you had to rub salt into the wound by being kind to him afterwards. He had scoffed when you had thrown your helmet to the ground and held out your hand to him, a scowl cloaking his face and making his teeth grind as you offered him advice on how to perfect your technique. Yet all you had done in response to his slight was to smile: a smile so shining, so unjustly kindly, so prepossessing and beautiful that the swordsman froze in shock, a fleeting flash of pure light haloing his eyes.

He knew. He knew, right there and then. That you were the only thing in all of the seas that could stand in his way. In that moment, he had decided that he would like to live forever in that strand of light: that one that strayed through a gap between the oak leaves, straying past its dark, dense leaves, foraging past the crawling thickets to instead brush against the tip of your cheek.

'What does it matter anyway?', Zoro had glowered, refusing to look back at you again. 'It's not as if you're going to stick around. Once your gone, I'll be the best fighter here again.'

'I'm not going anywhere. Not until I defeat you ten more times, at least', you added, once you noticed him rolling your eyes. You held your hand out, and Zoro glanced down at your outreaching fingers warily. 'No matter where we are or what happens to us, I'll always be a better swordsman than you.' His lips finally curl up in a smile then as he reaches out to shake your hand, and the feeling sends a spark of something running down his fingertips. His whole body feels alight, and he spends the whole rest of the day clenching his fingers into his palm and trying desperately to relish the feeling.

Which is why, for a while, Zoro seems to go extra hard on you: calling you away after lessons for private sparring matches deep in the woods, where only the crunchy bark could hear your swift steps and the fine mist wrapped around the pale trees and sent a cold shake down your hilted hand. The only way to warm yourself up was to butt the edge of your sword against Zoro's flailing torso, shoving him back so you could use the leverage to pin his panting face up against the nearest tree trunk. This time, though - this time, you surprise him.

If he was disappointed in himself for losing again, it soon melted away by the feel of your torso pressing up against his heaving lungs. For a moment, his lips tighten into a thin line as sees your approaching forehead and believes you're straight up just going to headbutt his sorry ass. He jumps even more when your skin lands... softly? against the burning side of his temple. He can't seem able to find his breath, the world seeming to be frozen in glinting threads of light as you linger against the young demon. All that exists is the soft push of your nose against his fluttering shut eyelid. The warm puff of breath as you sigh against the shell of his ear. The light scrape of the bark against his back as he shivers. The sound of his own heart, his blood scorching through his veins and convulsing against the sharp cage of his ribs.

He's so hyperaware of his body tantalisingly close to yours; his stiff elbows lay drawn up by his side, his hands shaking almost imperceptibly as he spreads and flexes his fingers, slowly drawing them to hover around your back. He was still too afraid to touch you.

Too afraid of the fire burning through his fingertips again.

But before he could muster up the courage you had pulled away, and the moment faded into a jaded dream that he nestled safely in the back of his memories.

It's impossible to shake Zoro from you after that moment. He hounds after you like a coveting beast: he stays tied to your hip like a disruptive dog harnessed on a leash. Your favourite activity is sneaking out of your dorms after hours and running down to meet by the riverbed: feet sprinting across the cream petals and sharp pine needles to collapse next to one another among the buzz of the fireflies nestling above the woven grass. For a while, as the two of you turn your tired heads to the skies, there's nothing but a silent affinity settling over the clearing. Nothing but the feel of the silk sleeve of Zoro's pyjamas brushing over the side of your cheek as unclasps his hands from behind his head and warily rests them in the short space between your hips. Nothing but the sound of your extolled voice as you point up at the bursts of sparks and swirls of silver against the darkness, enrapturing Zoro as you chart out the dips of your favourite constellations.

The reflection of the skies you had spent your younger years on the seas watching with wonder fill your eyes with a wonderous light, the delight drawing your attention away and allowing Zoro the opportunity to docilely turn his head to face you instead. His cheek freezes against the dew, but he's too revered in memorising the scrunch of your nose as you swat your hand at him for not paying attention: too busy watching the placid look that softens your smile as you look, too busy wishing he wasn't so cowardly. Wishing he didn't feel so feeble. Wishing, as his hand clawed at his thigh and dug in deep enough to leave bruises, that he could just reach out and touch you.

He jumps when you click your fingers in front of his crossing eyes. 'Zoro, are you even listening?'

He shrugged. 'Kinda. I don't know much about this stuff. If I can't hit it, I don't care.'

'You should! One day, when I become the greatest sword fighter in the world, I'm going to sail into those stars and discover all the secrets this world has to offer.' You flopped your free hand over your stomach with a content sigh, the spiralling glow of the heavens raining down and coating your face with sparks of silver.

He snorted. 'That sounds stupid. You can't sail into the sky.'

'You're just jealous because you're not invited.'

'Good. Who said I wanted to come.'

Zoro may be an idiot, but he's also a man who learns from his mistakes.

He doesn't know what overtakes him. Adrenaline? Rage? An overwhelming surge of fondness? The thought pounding in his head that if he doesn't do this now, he'll spend forever locked away in this cage? His fingers itch across the grass. His whole body squirms, the heat rolling through his body making the perspiration bead on his forehead, but still he keeps going. It's only when he feels your hand jolt back as his pinkie bumps against the side of your wrist that he begins to feel stupid.

Growing self-restraint be damned, as soon as you recover from the shock and shyly place your hand back down by your side, he pounces. Initially, the squeeze of his fingers as they wrap around your cool palm almost breaks bone, but all you do is rub your thumb over the edge of his knuckles.

You know its his way of telling you he loves you, even if he is too young and stubborn and proud to say it.

You both knew that one day you would leave him for the stars. When the time comes, and you leave Shimotsuki Village, to stop the sinews of his heart from completely scorching away with every knot of your ship, the demon suffocates any thought of you.

When he meets you again that fateful day: tied up to a Marine post in a dusty courtyard, tired, frustrated, solemn, for the first time in his life he begins to feel his judgement sway. When your face popped around the yard gates on your way out from meeting Axehand Morgan, your feet skid so comically across the ground the cloud of smoke it raised was so huge it even made Zoro sneeze. With a hand on your hip, and eyes widened in disbelief, you stepped out into the sunlight to survey the man bowed before you.

'I always knew I'd see you tied up one day', you smirked, shoving the handful of berries you had earnt from trading in your last bounty into the satchel by your hip before wandering over to untie him. 'Just thought it would be me doing the tying.'

'Y/n?', he asks incredulously, trying his best to dart his eyes nonchalantly up and down your body despite how fervently his voice was trying to waver. He sneered, tipping his head in the other direction and staring at the ground as you tug on the rather tight knots around his wrist. 'What the hell are you doing here.'

When you finally manage to tug him loose off the boards, his knees sag so quickly beneath him that the swordsman nearly goes collapsing headfirst onto the ground. With reflexes so quick they could only be rivalled by your own sparring buddy himself, a firm hand slaps against his sternum. A quick tug pulls him back, Zoro's knees dirtying with beige as he kneels back against you.

'Same as you, oh great swordsman', you laugh against his ear. 'I always told you you'd have competition. And from the looks of it, I'm winning.'

For a second you're concerned you've overstepped: the familiarity, the fondness you thought everlasting between you both a figment of your imagination when Zoro tilts his head back slightly to glare at you from the corners of his eyes. Placing a hand on his knee he braces himself, and steps up. For a moment, you're even more terrified he's about to kick you to the ground - or even worse, turn his back and walk off, ignoring you completely. But then he surprises you. The corners of his lips twitch in what - no way- could only be the beginnings of a smile?! before you're lifted off the ground and crushed in a hug so unyielding between his solid chest and taut arms that you can't help but bury your head into his shoulder blade and laugh.

It wasn't very hard to convince Luffy to let you join his crew - I mean, when you took down three Marines with just one punch, and he saw the powerhouse you and Zoro were as you fought back to back with Axehand Morgan, you were coming, and that was that. No buts. No excuses. Don't argue with your Captain.

I mean, bless his heart, Zoro is still a dumbass though, as perceptive as he is. And he's still sore. It takes a little bit of work to climb through the trellises of his grave heart. But little by little, he begins to open up to you again. He starts to grumble less when you climb up to join him during his late nights on watch up in the Crow's Nest. At first, as he burrows his back into the planks and crosses his arms in front of his chest, the steady breathing of his stoic body makes your job seem even harder. Undeterred, you rocked back on your heels and clucked your tongue in nervousness. But you should have known: even with his eyes closed, concentration edged into the furrows of his face, he's far too perspicacious for his own good. Even though he's doing his best to look brooding and bored, his foot shoots out and kicks his sword out of the way - launching it back across your heels and barring you from tumbling back down and falling down the hatch.

Every time you drag yourself up in the middle of the night to join him, you can tell his full concentration is centred on you, even if his eyes never even move behind their lids. He's pointedly listening out for your move, your every breath, your every heartbeat - which comes in very handy for darting out and catching in his massive palm the warm cups of cider you had precariously tried to carry up. Eventually, after a full week of you sitting up there Zoro finally relents his pride; even with Luffy's vest and Usopp's jacket wrapped around you, you clutch at the lapels of Sanji's suit jacket that your friends had very kindly lent you to try and stop shivering from the cold. Zoro doesn't even speak, just raises his elbow a little bit, and you don't need a second invitation to come clambering into the warmth of his side.

God, if he hadn't spent every moment of every day since he was thirteen years old dreaming of holding you in his arms. You pretend, for his sake, that you can't feel his heart thrumming wildly against your ear.

You catch the former bounty hunter staring at you from across the Lounge’s breakfast table most mornings. The intensity of his unwavering eye would be strong enough to make you blush, if you hadn't turned your attention back to stabbing at Luffy's grabby hands with the prongs of your fork. It's only when Sanji clasps his hands to his cheek, and in a faux sugary sweet sing-song voice professes 'how romantic mosshead can be! What person wouldn't love being stared at like roadkill!', that all hell breaks loose. Luffy's too busy munching on your pancake to truly register you and Nami nearly flying leapfrog over Zoro's back to try and stop him from throwing the poor cook through the window.

Although you succeed, Sanji does have to spend the rest of the morning sulkily smoking out of the corner of his mouth while wringing orange juice out of his hair.

Zoro is extremely, extremely protective over you. Even though you know how much he hates talking, he draws all the attention to himself away from Cabaji, even while tied up to Buggy' circus wheel. When the knives start whizzing past his head, he doesn't even flinch: safe in the knowledge that no matter what happens, you're safe from these buffoons. When Nami finally manages to pick her cage's lock and help free the two of you, you offer Zoro your hand as you cautiously steady him on the ground again. He jolts, and for a moment you're worried one of the knives actually did hit him; while you flip his palm trying to find any sign of a scratch, Zoro's eyes focus on you in wild shock. He feels fifteen again as he gently rubs your searching fingers between his coarse pointer finger and thumb, sobbing into his bed and holding the hilt of his sword, pretending it was your hand. Your warmth. And here you were, come back to him, offering it freely. He felt like falling to his knees, a pliant supplicant to your unwarranted mercy.

One time he nearly made you bust out laughing: since Zoro spends most of his day napping in such random intervals, during a rogue storm aboard the Going Merry one cloudy evening the swordsman was still awake. It was during your struggle to stop yourself pitching right off your bed and slamming into the wall, and planting yourself firmly from sliding to the left and body slamming a very irritated looking Nami, whose head was covered by one of her bunched up pillows, that you spotted a shadow flitting across the porthole on your door. Zoro's tall, awkward outline hesitantly moved as if he were about to rap at the door, before the sound of him yelling at himself under his breath made you snort aloud.

His head rises at the sound, and before he can take a step backward to try and abort his masterplan of sneaking into your room under the guise of checking if you were alright with the storm battering the rocking ship, you had slammed open the door and nearly flung Zoro into your hammock like a ragdoll. For a moment, Zoro lies there like a statue, unsure of where to put his hands or if it's alright that the sway of the ship means that he can't unsquish his cheek from against the side of your eyebrow. When his hand hesitantly begins to fall over your back and fold you tightly against his pecs with a squeeze, you know that's his trepid way of trying to let you know he still loved you.

Not to mention when you wake up and he's lying with his nose nearly indented into yours, his sleepy eyes looking so peaceful for once... just admiring you with the warm glow of the sun dousing him in holiness.

One time he got really lost trying to find you and Luffy after the two of you had the very sensible idea of setting off to the nearest island on a search for hidden treasure. After he had spent hours wading through muddy creeks and tearing some tangled thorns away from his face, out you come wandering from behind a tree. Thinking you were some kind of wild animal, Zoro has you pinned against the bark of the nearest tree before you even have time to blink.

Not one to be defeated, you kick out at his legs with a delighted laugh, knocking the man nearly ass over head onto his back. You grin, victorious, as you crawl between his legs like a ravenous tiger, knocking the hilt of his blade far out of reach of his clenching fingers. As your knee presses against the inner seam of his muscled thigh, you can tell by the forced gulp of his bobbing throat how hard he's struggling. When you dig your fingernails deeply enough into his wrists to elicit a throaty hum of approval, when his abdomen keeps bucking ever so slightly off the reeds to try and shake you off, you just know the man's imagined this scenario a lot of times, in a lot of different ways over the years.

(I mean this man could throw you off easily let's be real.)

When the Straw Hat Crew meet Kaya, this man - istg - he nearly goes weak at the knees when you come down the stairs in your brand new borrowed outfit. His breathless inhale earned him a distasteful glare from Klahadore, but he didn't even care that he was showing such careless, unmeasured adoration. It took Luffy nearly slapping him across the face with the shrimp he was waving in front of his nose to draw him back to some sense of reality.

'I know!', the Captain had smiled. 'The food here is so good, I was daydreaming about it too!'

Having the good fortune to uh *definitely by chance and not because you snuck into the dining hall earlier to switch the place cards* - to sit next to Zoro offers him the opportunity to make his feelings more plain, in a subtle way. Perfect timing! As soon as Luffy clambers up onto the table and draws the wrath of the strangely severe butler, Zoro's hand latches across yours under the tablecloth and squeezes. He blinks languidly, his face as unreadable as ever as he takes a sip out of his champagne flute and clears his throat, but you notice. You know every part of him: every idiosyncrasy, every bob of his Adam's Apple, the tensed pull of his jaw muscle as he clenches his teeth, the warm flush rising up his cheeks, you know them all. As if they were so innate, so interwoven with your own being, that you weren't sure of a time when your hearts hadn't been devoured by each other's. Each the predator. Each the prey.

He leaves his hand on your knee for the rest of the dinner, and you refuse to remove his latched fingers and let him go.

You kiss him for the first time that night: just a sweet little tease of lingering lips against the pure radiance of his cheek.

As he walks you down the 'confusing' corridors that are 'definitely a trap' by Zoro's own declaration, you unlink yourself from his arm to straighten the collar of his silk shirt. 'You look nice', you say sincerely, eyebrows furrowing as you trace the outline of his bare collar between the open buttons. 'Even though swords are more your style, you look good in a suit. You look good in everything.'

'Uh... thanks', he balks, his head emptying as his entire being instead focuses on the feeling of your fingertip scratching of his chest. 'You- your eyes look nice', he bluntly replies. 'Like two rice balls.'

Bless him, he meant well.

And then you kiss him with a raise of your tippy toes and final clutch of your hands against his shoulders, before retreating back into your room and leaving him extinguished within the shadows. He spends the next few hours almost deliriously wandering the corridors, trying to temper the tight ball growling in his belly. To try and find a sense of clarity, some kind of retinence. Looking past the billowing blue curtains and out through the slats of the casement windows lining the ornate, ostentatious glass cases, a warning pangs in Zoro's heart. How could he? How could he find restraint, when you had spent all these years driving his thoughts wild? How could he keep you safe, when he could focus on nothing but the wetness still lingering against his cheek? How could he fulfil his dreams, when all he wants right there. Just past the clear moonlight drifting silver into his eyelids, there your stars lay.

He wasn't about to let you sail away from him this time, to alight only in his memories: to pulse through the hollow beats of his hear and cool his charred veins like a cruel reminder of a salvation he had never deserved.

He wasn’t going to lose you to his callow cowardice. Not ever again.

When he comes knocking on your door, you don't expect the demon bounty hunter to blurt out a fevered 'I love you!', before turning and stamping off. But I suppose, as you ran after to him to drag him back into your room by the scuff of his neck and slam the wide expanse of his back against the door to shut it, he wasn't expecting to spend the night filling poor Kaya's house with unbridled moans.

[milkzoro]

need to redecorate

summary: y/n and trafalgar law are in a new relationship, but haven’t met irl yet.

cw: MDNI, smut, law being a creep, spit, slight dom!law, p in v fucking, edging

☆彡

~

he wonders how he was able to bag a girl like you. your supple skin, thick ass and thighs. he was obsessed with the way that you’re always wearing mini skirts that are just a tad too small. he love the pudge of your stomach that puffs so softly out of the hem line.

he’s here again, back at this overpriced indie coffee shop. he knows your exact order and the approximate time frame of your arrival. he is waiting for you. not to pick you up or grab a coffee with you. but to get more images for his collection.

she was so perfect ‘n bubbly he thought, needed to capture her in every moment. when you’re grocery shopping, picking up meds, soaking up some sun while you’re in your backyard. he even has some tasteful shots of you undressing.

he finally notices you leaving the coffee shop with your cup in hand and hips swaying softly.

he has a drone. he would never bring his camera out like this, not where people could see him being a freak. his best shots always came from his camera though. the harder to get the sweeter the treat he thought. but with you just running errands, this would have to do. he’s lucky to have found one small enough to just slip past your mind and not notice it.

he glides the flying camera in your direction, lining up the angles perfectly. “my angel, such ‘n airhead. how have you not found me out yet.” he sighs and takes multiple shots of your body. he absolutely cannot not wait for these photos to develop, you looked delicious.

~

he is now hanging up his prizes from the day onto his wall. carefully placing each one with a few command strips, he could never damage his works of art with a stupid tack. ugh the thought of that disgusts him. law thinks he is a famous photographer. his works should be hung up in a museum (his bedroom).

he was especially excited for tonight though. such a cute and sweet event. tonight he’d get to watch a movie with you and it was also your one month anniversary. getting to see your face on his monitor would make his day. you always looked so innocently beautiful in the setting of your pretty room. sitting there listening to him speak with your dolly eyes.

it never felt weird being in a relationship with you considering you’ve never met in person. it’s been mentioned, but somehow one of you is always unavailable. one month isn’t even that long, he thought. i’ll be ready soon, i just uhh need to ‘redecorate.’

~

“happy one month anniversary babiee!!!” you sang on the other line. oh how you looked so stunning for him. silk cami resting pretty on your neckline and no bra. you felt so cheeky. seeing the attractive man on the other side sent butterflies to your tummy. his dark features cascading in his dark room. truthfully, kinda eery but ohhh so sexy.

his face warmed up at the sight of you. smiling warmly. his golden eyes picking up beautifully in the screen of your small laptop. “y/a ya~. happy anniversary,,,, ~pookie~.” he giggles at that last part. he’s definitely picking up some your language even if he denies that he isn’t.

after assessing our options. law agreed to your suggestion. we were going to watch {MOVIE}. law had everything all set up and had the movie on pause. “you have your snacks baby?” his voice was getting crunchy in the speakers of your old computer. stupid internet. you hummed and cuddled up with your blankets waiting for him to press play.

~

“babe.”

… he didn’t hear you.

“baby.”

“hmm?” his confused little face popped into frame. “yn ya~ what’s wrong?”

you sighed whilst sitting up, meticulously propping up on your tits so he could see you better. “the movies’ so blurry. can’t i just come over~”

law could hear you loud and clear. ‘come over?’ he thought. fuck what was he going to do. he’d love nothing more than for you to come lay with him and ‘watch’ movies. there’s just a small problem, his shrines. it’s about time you two get together, he just needed to be careful.

quick calculations and possible solutions are racing through his mind. uhhh she lives about twenty ish minutes from my place,,, i think i can do something.

he hesitated before speaking, “uhhm y- yea let me send you my address.” him actually agreeing made you so happy! you finally got to see you cute boyfriend! and on our anniversary too, what a treat! cartoony hearts were practically spinning around your head.

“oh okay!! i’m just gonna grab my things ‘n i’ll come over” you blew law a quick kissy through your camera and shut off your monitor. you were so excited.

“shit- twenty minutes to ‘redecorate’, i can do this.” law is panicking.

~

your bag’s keychains jingled against your body as you made your way up to his door, wrist immediately knocking agains the wood. a few moments pass as you anticipate his presence.

when you saw him standing there in front of you you were in awe. his skin glowing under the moonlight, he looked so perfect. was he sweating?

“y/a ya~” his voice is dripping with honey. it made you feel numb. he leaned down to kiss your lips. slender fingers coming to hold you cheek. your lips met his, his taste making you feel intoxicated.

“happy anniversary pretty~ let’s get inside” he reaches for you hand and you can’t help but notice how clammy they are. awe was he nervous? teehehe such a cutie.

~

movie long forgotten, law had you pinned beneath him. eyes assaulting every inch in your body. his thin fingers moving themselves to push on the plush of your inner thighs. “you’re so soft baby~” his fingers were toying with the seams of your panties. “‘nd soo wet already huh?” his eyes flicker to your own.

“shhhiiit ahh~ mhm yes laww” you whine out, dying for a taste. seeing pictures is nowhere near comparable to the real thing. you can already see his dick in his jeans and can’t help but arch your back at your imagination.

“want to feel me baby? let me take good care of you.” he sees your eager nodding and slips you out of your your soaking panties. his fingers are fumbling as he is trying to lower his boxers and unzip his jeans. “god yes law pleaSE.” two of his fingers slip past your fold with ease. noticing your arousal he swirls his digits around, collecting your juices. fuck your so slick, he wraps his fist around his thick cock to spread your liquid. he hisses at the relief.

“gonna fuck you good doll, just say my name for me, okay?” he whines as he gets to push just a little bit past his tip “shhhiiiitttt.”

“law please baby .. haahh~ more hmm.”

you can’t help but moan at his painfully slow movements. you can see it in his face too, the way his eyes are squeezed shut, it’s easy to tell that he wants to move too, but fucking you slowww is driving the both of you insane. his rhythm is picking up causing you to drool and mutter nonsense.

he puts a finger on your mouth pressing down firm against the pad of your tounge then moves to get in between your teeth. he’s adding one more digit to your mouth before using them to try and spread your mouth.

“open your mouth yn ya~” his eyes are lust filled as you see him start to collect spit in his own. he is fucking you faster now and with each thrust and shake, you’re eager to open your mouth for him. wanting to accept any liquid he has to offer.

“such a filthy girl y/a.” he missed, just a little. his fingers come up to rub some of the saliva away. you swallowed the remaining liquid and beg for him to go deeper. “fuck y/n you want it that bad huh, haaah~ tell me,, who’s pussy ‘s this?” his hand come to lay on your neck, squeezing tightly on both sides of your windpipe. he is struggling to hear you and pulls his dick out. “speak baby~”

feeling his length suddenly go missing from your cunt has you in tears. you were so close and full, now nothing. “law fuckk baby i was gonna cu-” he cuts you off and squeezes on your neck harder. “i said whos fuckin pussy ‘s this?”

white spots are forming in the corners of your vision, too close to your orgasm to black out now so you fight to speak back to him. “ahh, it’s ‘s yours law!! fuck- only yourss~” his grip on you looses ever so slightly but still keeps his hand there.

his lips curl into a smirk as he lines you up again. his heat filling you just right, and hearing his breathy whimpers were just enough to get you there. “such a good girl for me fuckk taking me so well baby i feel you suckin me in haahh-”

his dick so perfect for your hole, leaking soo much for him. cleanching down hard, you are ready for release. “law~ fuck s-so close, please uSE ME!” he lifts your knees to hit your most sensitive spot harder. his hips working against your aching body recklessly. you could tell he was close.

“shiit just just like tha baby,, right- ahh right fuckING THERE AHHH KEEP- keep goiNG♡” you walls are contracting hard on his cock almost milking him. your legs are shaking violently as you feel your orgasm start to take control of your whole body. hearing his moans has you squirting around him.

“fuck baby where do you want me to cum?”

comeing down from your high you manage to respond to him. “come on my tits.” you pull your shirt up slightly so he could decorate your pretty breasts with his semen.

he thinks your such a dirty girl and he’s obsessed with it. he pulled his thick, dripping cock from your hole and tightly squeezed around his creamy base. fuck he looked soo good like this, you could practically see his eyes rolling back as he fucking his fist above you. glimmers of sweat beaded on his forehead has him looking so angelic, it’s making your tummy do flips again. a gasp leaves his lips as he shoots his hot load across your breasts and swollen nipples. his breaths sending shockwaves to your aching cunt. he falls down close to you and kisses your forehead.

“happy one month y/n ya~”

~

after suddenly waking up, you notice a rough edge scratching your arm. reaching in between his mattress and the box spring, you pull on the foreign object and discover it’s a loose photo. oh it’s you. you giggle. you find him so endearing and obsessive…

unfortunately for him it was a blurry one, but you had an idea. while law was asleep, fucked out, you decided to gift him something better. his polaroid was placed on his desk so you had a mini photo shoot. you took only a few, one of your tits, still somewhat crusted with his cum. and a couple of your thighs and ass. and the final touch being a lipstick kiss stain in the corner of each one. you placed the camera back in its spot and tucked away your custom pieces of art with his other photographs. he will find them eventually. teheheh you’re welcome my love xx

*& we sleep again zzz*

an: y/n is a freak

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Date Night Blues

—

Time written- 7:48 p.m.

Dick Grayson/fem!reader fluff

—

The sun slowly dies behind dreary, shadowy clouds before you pull your bedroom curtains closed, returning to your task at hand at folding your still warm laundry, munching on crunchy green grapes in between your work, mainly consisting of passive aggressively folding laundry.

To say you were mildly annoyed with a most gracious understatement.

Irritated. Aggravated. Distressed.

Fed up.

Majorly annoyed sounded much better than the very first option.

You would say you were mentally exhausted from the unfortunate routines of planning dates with vigilantes who always got called in at the worst moments. Talk about a crazy schedule.

Your days off remained rather dull without him, leaving you to do your daily chores or run errands on your own on some days. You thought vigilantes usually do their crime fighting at night. Sometimes, that just wasn’t the case in Blüdhaven.

Whilst debating on folding a particular shirt to slip into your drawer, or adjust on a hangar to put in your closet, you ponder over what was left for you to do for the rest of tonight.

Finish up my laundry, recheck my work schedule, make sure laptop’s charged, then debate on what to have for dinner.

Don’t have much, what should I order in then? Eh, don’t feel like going out tonight. It’s Sunday, maybe I’ll google to see if that one place on the corner is still open, see if they deliver—

“Boo."

You jump, turning around with a loud yelp. The culprit, while he wasn’t an intruding thief, smirked like a villain at your amusing outburst, your hand clutching onto that very shirt as if it would service to protect you.

“I- Dick! Oh my God, don’t do that!!”

The man chuckles, not caring if you meant to call him an insult or not, too amused to even care.

"Okay, that was the cutest sound ever." He points out as he steps closer, black gloved hands slowly settling along your shoulders.

He was still in uniform, off on a mission of sorts you cared little to bother about. The bitterness of his line of work came rushing back to you, making you scoff and toss the article of unfolded clothing onto your bed.

“How did you get in here?”

“Uh, the usual way?” Dick replies, the curtains billowing in the late evening breeze making an appearance behind his broad back. Of course he did.

“Jesus,” you mutter, glancing up at Dick in question.

“I literally could’ve strangled you with a pair of socks if I thought you were some thug breaking into my room. You’re aware of that, right?”

"But I wasn't a thug,” Dick smiles as he slightly leans down, his voice lowering the closer he approached your face. “So you don't get to strangle me tonight, babycake.”

He usually leers down closer to your level before giving you a kiss, which is what a part of you so desperately desired.

However, the more stubborn devil on your shoulder grimaced at his approach, controlling your thoughts to lean your head back just enough before his nose bumped against yours.

“Ah-ah. I didn’t hear you say sorry yet, Mister,” You tell the tall man, but you didn’t lean back from him any further than that.

He pouts with furrowed brows, face contorted in feigned shock and distress. He takes his chance to lean close one more, taking your chin with two gentle fingers.

“Sorry," he whispers before moving their faces close together. "Now can I kiss you?"

“Say it like you mean it,” Came his girl’s soft response. “And I just might let you.”

Dick looks at you for a moment as the gears quickly work inside his mind. Then, with a smirk, he answers.

"I apologize with my entire soul,” He begins, his hands working down to caress along your plush hips. “Please, my Goddess, forgive me for all of the mistakes I made by scaring you instead of kissing you the moment I broke into your room."

Nearly deadpanning by his choice of words, you scoff once more before snorting in full amusement, unsure whether to blush or cringe. You always blushed so damn easily with him anyway.

“Wow,” You couldn’t help but giggle. “Fiiine, I guess that deserves a kiss.”

Dick smiles widely, laughing a little at the success of his little trick.

Wasting no further time, his nose brushes against yours as he takes your lips, finally fulfilling the strong need he's had since the moment he left your apartment this morning after answering one of Batman’s calls.

“M’sorry, babycakes,” he mutters against your lips, nearly humming at the soft weight of your forearms resting up on his shoulders.

“I know you don’t— don’t like when I leave.” Talking full sentences in between a gentle, passionate make-out was a bit of a challenge. “Believe me, if I had it my way—“

“We would’ve finished what you started?”

Your interruption made a handsome smile stretch across his face, his head nodding. “We would’ve finish what I started. Exactly.”

What he had started bloomed from you waking up to him absentmindedly massaging your soft tits through your sleep shirt, an ‘absentminded’ habit he obtained over many nights of sleeping in your apartment.

Fortunately for you, you had stirred with a deep, hungry ache in your tummy, desperate for him in all ways he was more than willing to provide. He answered your silent pleas after reading your desires in your sleepy eyes, both hands working on simultaneously slipping under your shirt and underwear, lips trapped against one another in variously passionate, heavy kisses.

Ever so unfortunately, his phone begins to vibrate on the nightstand.

You both learn that not even scam callers were annoying enough to call so early in the morning, unless they were that desperate to steal your credit card info or identity.

You insisted within heavy gasps to not answer it, your fingers firmly grazing along the waistband of his sweats to convince him. His raspy groan echoing against the crook of your neck signified his inner turmoil between wanting to make you scream, and screaming at the person responsible displayed on the Caller ID.

Dick couldn’t scream at Bruce, but he did have an attitude after getting blue balled by the Dark Knight.

Even worse, it was nearly a common occurrence.

“You sound like you read Pride and Prejudice, by the way.” You snicker as you gently peel of his domino mask, peering into his pretty eyes free of their sheer, milky covering.

“Or watched Phantom of the Opera. Have you seen that movie?” You question after setting his mask alongside your folded clothes, especially curious since you may have it available on your current streaming service.

Dick gives a weak shrug and responds with a semi-truth. "No, I haven't. Always heard it's pretty good though."

What he meant by that was Jason invited him to watch it before, but what he could nearly recall was falling asleep after the opening credits. Jason “teased” him about it for weeks after, but he was sort of glad you hadn’t brought it up. Maybe you weren’t even aware of it, thankfully.

What could you say, really? You were dying for a movie night for the past week, pleading to whichever God that listened that Dick had the time to stay a while, without interruptions. Only, you weren’t sure if Dick merely broke into your apartment to stop by for a short spell.

“Maybe, you’d want to watch it with me?" You began to question with hints of hesitation. “Unless Mr. Nightwing has any secret crime fighting missions he’s not telling me about.”

“I mean..” Dick laughs at that, shaking his head a bit.

“What?” Your heart was nearly moments away from dropping into your stomach.

He pulls you closer to himself, warm material smooth against your cotton clothes, peering down at you with pretty eyes and a small, innocent smile.

"I'm not sure how much longer I can last without kissing you again." Dick leans towards your lips, smiling. “I’d much rather be doing this than any secret crime fighting—“

“You can kiss me all you want in a bit,” You insist, keeping your palms braced along his chest for fair measure, dying for your question to be answered.

“You wanna stay? Yes, or no? I want a full movie night this time, Dick. The kind where one of us falls asleep on top of the other, and it becomes an inconvenience.”

Dick, completely enamored by your sweet voice asking such an even sweeter request, nods his head twice without little time to ponder over it all.

Dick wants exactly what you desire, a deal that can be easily struck; to make tonight like every Hollywood romance movie. It deserves to be that special, you deserve to have that memory become born.

“Yeah, I can do that."

“Great,” your lips broaden into a smile, one he wanted to see plastered onto your face nearly every minute of the day.

“You hungry?” You suddenly question. “I need your help deciding what we should order out. Oh, and I’m thinking of making that chocolate, rainbow sprinkle popcorn for the movie.”

There you go again, getting your hopes up in planning ahead for a potentially successful date night. Dick could only stare at you with a content gaze, amused by the giddiness in your eyes, the glimmer brighter than any star.

You dropped your chores to spend time with him, he’s convinced you to skip a day or two of work to remain in bed with him for a few extra hours. It was unfair for him to always leave, putting the wrong person on the top of his priority list, when you should’ve remained the first.

He knew you were annoyed with him and Batman all day, he wasn’t an idiot on that account. Now?

All you wanted was for you both to hold one another underneath a fuzzy blanket, cuddling one another like two multicolored cats napping under the sun, tails and limbs intertwined.

His own tired smile revealed he wanted the very same thing. You were his girl, his babycakes, his short stack with a cute pout and firecracker temper.

Their was a firm chance he would fall asleep after the opening scene like before, but at least it would be in the warm safety of your arms and a large, cream knit blanket.

He’d do anything to keep that smile on your face just a while longer, even ignoring the subtle vibrating of his phone on his person. No doubt another ‘un-likely scammer.’

“Which one will it be, Richy?” You question which of the two movies you listed for him to choose, leading him by the hand down the short hallway towards your cozy living room.

Maybe if neither of you fell asleep, he’d lead you both to make use of your futon. To finish what he started.

“What was the name of the masquerade musical again?”