#atta cake

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Four

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Descriptions of past domestic violence, past abuse, past sexual assault, SANE exam. Death scene in relation to reader's job. Stalking. Feelings of fear and anxiety. Trauma. PTSD. Medical inaccuracies, hospitals, medical procedures, medications, nurse!reader. Comfort. Soft dads. Johnny is a shameless flirt.

“Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday sweet Penny-“ 

Their baby shrieks at the crest in the song, smile shoving her plump cheeks upwards, little fists banging on her highchair tray. She has no idea what’s going on, Johnny imagines, but he knows she’s excited that everyone is singing to her, looking at her, celebrating her. “happy birthday to you!” She swings a hand forward, plunging into the buttercream icing of the cupcake, fingers digging in as much as she can. Johnny can't help but give her the biggest kiss he can manage while trying to dodge the flying food, and Simon laughs over his shoulder. 

“Atta girl.” Simon encourages, trying to peel the wrapper so she can get more in her mouth, icing and cake all over his fingers now too, and Johnny wanders for a second, imagining something certainly not appropriate for their daughter’s first birthday. 

“Can’t believe your kid is a year old.” Kyle says from behind him, two beers in his hand. “Feels like yesterday you were even tellin’ us she existed.” 

“Time is movin’ too fast.” Johnny agrees, taking a long sip as Simon pulls Pen from the highchair, white and blue icing all over her face, arms, and hands. Kyle is right, it is hard to believe it’s been a year, hard to believe that their baby is already one, growing up right before their eyes, taking her first steps, saying her first words. He knows it won’t be long until she’s really talking, running, riding a bike, going to school… thoughts of the future forming a lump in the back of his throat that sticks like taffy. 

Simon steps into his orbit with Penny in his arms, keeping her turned outwards away from his body, half tilted to avoid the sticky smear of icing that’s painted all over her. 

“What is it?” he murmurs, leaning in to brush his lips against Johnny’s cheek, warm breath fanning over his skin. 

“Nothin’ ah-“ Penny babbles, head tipped back, gazing at him with wide, pretty eyes, and Johnny rubs a knuckle across her messy cheek. “she’s gettin’ so big. Feel like ‘m missing it, sometimes. Like I should be here.” Simon sighs. 

“Johnny-“ 

“I know, I know.” They made this decision, together. They chose what was best for their family, even though they both knew the distance, the time apart, would sting.  

“The option is always there if you want to swap. Though I think we both know you’d lose your head behind a desk.” He nods, but the longing lingers, and Simon reads him right through to his heart, like always. “After this next op, let’s sit down and talk about it. Maybe we can make some adjustments for next year.” 

“Ah love ye.” 

“I love you too.” He shifts Pen into his side, inclining his head towards her grubby hands. “Can you wash her up?” She reaches for him, trying to latch around his neck, and he rubs her back, cooing into her hair. 

“Whit happened to my precious bairn, eh? Where’d she go?” Pen giggles, fingers finding his nose, long strands of his hair with a tug, and he playfully lifts her, mouth against her tummy, blowing loud raspberries over her shirt that has her absolutely screaming with glee. 

“Da. Dadadada-“ she babbles at him. 

“C’mon wee lamb, let’s go get ye into some clean clothes.” 

There’s an envelope shoved under your front door.

The shitty carpet in the hallway is too high, threads jagged, so it sits a little crumpled, half wedged beneath the bottom and the floor.

It’s manilla. Letter sized. Stepping over it to get inside, you immediately notice the lack of postage. Or addressing. Or anything at all, that would signify that it had been delivered by proper authorities.

It’s from him. 

You know it is, even though you try to find any other rational reasoning, anything that could explain the mystery behind the envelope and how it got here.

You know. You know it’s probably a letter. Handwritten. Signed in perfect penmanship. You know it’s probably something foul, sick words twisted into terrifying sentences.

You kick it inside and let it sit there for a few minutes. You get changed, get into comfortable clothes, start your kettle. You wrap your sweater tight around your body and lean against your countertop, staring at the offensive tan-beige paper that lays in the middle of the floor.

It’s from him. 

He knows where you are. 

“That’s impossible.” You answer yourself aloud, fingers curled so tight into your palms that they make little crescent moon shapes in your skin.

Your illusion, delusion, of safety, anonymity, is easily washed away by the appearance of the envelope, and whatever lurks inside it.

It’s too soon. 

You didn’t make it.

It’s not a letter inside the envelope at all.

It’s a photo.

A photo of you, taken in harsh hospital lighting, dated over two years ago. It’s taken from the shoulders up, skin bare and exposed, fresh impact bruising around your neck, eye starting to swell, lip crusted with blood.

You remember this photo. You remember the awful experience of the SANE exam, the drive to the hospital that took over two hours because you had to go to another state, just in case.

You hadn’t changed. Hadn’t showered. Your white eyelet blouse, one of your favorites, was splattered red, bright ruby dried a dark wine by the time you pulled into the little county hospital.

You remember the way it felt, to have your clothes put in a bag. To be handled by gloved fingers, with care and attention. The same way you had done for others before that day, and since.

“What’s your name?” your nurse had asked you, so cautiously, so kind. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.” She tried to promise, but you knew the truth. There was nowhere you could run, not a single place you could hide, where a shadow wouldn’t find you.

The girl, the woman, in the photo is the same person that looks back at you in the mirror every day, except now she’s buried beneath layers and layers of function, schedule, consistency. She’s silenced by distraction. By work.

By fear.

You flip it over with trembling hands, looking for the note or signature you know will be there. Like a greedy, starved pig; he cannot help himself. 

Found you. 

Bile rockets up your esophagus and into your mouth. How long will he toy with you this time?

“Hey, you okay?” Nia asks, frowning at you from her locker.

“Yeah, just slept like shit.” You roll your shoulders, emphasizing the half-truth. You really did sleep poorly, fragments of nightmares keeping you suspended in twilight sleep, clips of memories morphed into the snapping. bloodied jaw of a monster who reared their head every time your REM cycle started, and it shows. In your face, your posture, your skin. You look awful, the only thing really holding you together the resolve you have to push through, to get it together, to leave the envelope and its contents behind in your mind. You’re safer inside these walls above anywhere else, that you know is true. Your safety. Your sanctuary. Nothing can hurt you here. “You know how it is.” You add, and she chuckles.

“Tell me about it. Thought I was going to love overnights, but the sleep schedule is brutal.”

“You get used to it.” You assure her, the two of you making your way down the hall to the pit, and she shrugs.

“If you say so.”

You stand outside of two sixty-eight for too long. People pass you in the hallway, eyes curious, and you pretend to scroll through the tablet, decidedly trying to distract yourself from the dread that’s gathered like a sailor’s knot in the pit of your stomach.

You’re a professional. This behavior is definitely unprofessional. Get yourself together. 

You try, filling your lungs with a deep breath, but you can’t shake the shame, the mortification that is curdling in your stomach at the idea of facing Simon and Johnny after the code black situation last week.

“Go sit with Johnny.”

“Ye’re shaking, pretty girl.”

Will they be angry that you were so rattled? Could they tell? 

Your watch alarm beeps, and you uncurl your spine.

Buck up. 

You’re both anxious, and relieved, that Johnny is asleep when you finally step inside. Simon sits in his usual spot, paperback book’s spine split in the palm of his hand, and at first… he doesn’t even look up. Not until you clear your throat, and he startles in the chair, eyes snapping up to find yours. “Hi.” He frowns.

“What day is it?”

“Uh, it’s Wednesday?”

“I thought you start your week on Thursdays.” That makes your eyebrows raise, uncontained surprise filtering through you. He knows your schedule? Butterflies thrash in your stomach at the notion, something hot flooding your veins as you blink at him.

“I’m on OT.” You drift towards the other side of the bed, eyeing Johnny’s monitor before lifting the blanket to peek at his elevated leg. “How is he?”

“Uncomfortable. The burn debridement has been… difficult.”  You chew on the inside of your cheek. They better not be letting Simon even stand outside and watch that through the window, you think. You’ll have to follow up with whoever is on days.

“Healing burns can be a long and painful process.” You tell him, pulling back the blanket a little further. “I’ll be quick, try to let him get enough sleep as possible.”

“He’ll be sad he missed you.” Simon answers, still watching your every movement, eyes dark and focused above the black cloth mask. The intensity in them catches you off guard when you meet his gaze, hair on the back of your neck standing up straight, and you swallow.

“Well, I’ll still be here in the morning when he wakes so…” you trail off awkwardly, choosing to direct your attention to the scaffolding that’s supporting his femur and hip, checking his sutures for any redness or swelling.

“Do you work a lot of overtime?” Simon asks at the same as he leans forward to brush a stray lock of hair from Johnny’s forehead. The touch is so tender, so gentle, it makes your heart bleed inside your chest, blood warming beneath your skin, captivating your attention until he’s tearing his eyes away from Johnny, and latching onto yours with an expectant expression.

“Oh. Um. Sometimes?”

“Seems like a lot.” He comments, words lazily pulled from his lips, his tone soft, nearly a whisper. “Must make it difficult to spend time with your family, or partner.”

“Oh, I don’t have one of… those.” You immediately refute, pulling up short before the word those, embarrassment making your nose burn. Why are you telling him this? Why are you announcing to a stranger that you’re practically a recluse loner? 

Simon’s head tilts, and he looks like he’s about to say something but your tablet chimes, insistent and loud, signaling a vitals issue in another room.

“E-excuse me.” You stumble, and he nods, turning his attention back towards Johnny.

One… two… three… four…One… two… three… four… One… two-

The count in your head is second nature at this point, turning over and over after four as your arms, back and core start to scream, your breaths coming in shorter. Where the fuck is he? 

The count continues to roll on, lactic acid building up through your muscles, and you take another deep breath, as much as you can manage. The pain is familiar, it’s necessary, it’s a part of your job, but today, it’s burrowing itself beneath your skull, tugging and tearing at the memories that you’ve buried deep.

Pain. Gnarled and knotted strands of associations pull free from the confines of compartmentalization, stretching out across the front of your mind.

One… two… three… four…

You think about the photo. About being on your back, in a bed like this, lost inside the maze of a panic attack while the NP took photos between your legs. While they swabbed for DNA inside of you, under your fingernails, in your mouth. It’s funny how certain things can stick with you, the sound of the plastic bag crinkling as your bloodied clothes were shoved inside, how you can’t sleep on your back now, the way you counted the ceiling tiles over and over that day. One… two… three… four…

“How long has it been?” Nia asks from the other side of the bed, hand steadily squeezing the bag at the correct rate, still watching the monitor like a hawk.

“At least ten minutes.” You glance at the shade pulled over the window, grateful you remembered when you came running in here, the patient’s family standing just outside the door, holding their breath, hoping you’re in here bringing their beloved granny back, when in reality, you’re just traumatizing her body. You’ve already broken one of her ribs, and you’re worried if you keep going, her sternum will fracture too. It’s not fair. “Where the fuck is he?” you hiss between breaths, anger starting to heat your skin, irritation clear in your tone. This isn’t even your patient. Lazy, slacker, pompous ass, where the fu-

“How long has it been?” The nervous voice just inside the door calls, and your head snaps up.

Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me. 

“Eleven minutes and twenty-two seconds. Where is Marshall?”

“He- he sent me.” You shake your head. Nia sighs.

“Have you pronounced before?”

“Um. No.”

“And where is Marshall?” You ask again, just to clarify, and the resident swallows.

“I uh, don’t know.” Normally, a resident’s first pronouncement would be supervised by their attending. But since this one’s attending is Marshall, a grade A prick that you can’t stand, it looks like he’ll be on his own.

“Great. Okay.” You take a huge breath, trying to flex your wrists without losing your position. “It’s been twelve minutes now, and no response. Do you want to check?” He nods, and you chew on the inside of your cheek when he doesn’t verbally respond. “I need you to say it out loud.”

“You can stop compressions.” You immediately wilt, stepping away from the side of the bed, the motion of Nia’s hand also slowing until it stops, and she slumps. Marshall’s resident physically checks for a pulse, listens for breath sounds and then finally, does a sternum rub, to no avail.

“Sh-should I…” they trail off, looking back down at the elderly woman in the bed. The deceased woman, whose family is waiting, desperately. You nod.

“Yes.” You tell the resident gently. You can tell he’s unsure, nervous even, and for a moment, you’re transported back to your first code, when you were a baby nurse, a terrified, bumbling mess that needed help, just like he does. And since Marshall is a piece of shit… “No pulse?” You ask, and they nod. “No breath sounds? No sound of a heartbeat?”

“None.” They answer you confidently, and you manage an encouraging smile.

“No response to painful stimuli, no reaction to the sternum rub?”

“Right. No.”

“Okay. So normally, you could also use a thumbnail to press into their nailbed, if you feel like you need it, if you’re not comfortable with the sternum rub, but-“

“No, no. I’m. Yeah. Okay.” They too, take a deep breath, and check their watch. “Time of d-death… twenty one forty five.”

“Great job.” You tell him, pulling the blanket back up around her shoulders. “Do you feel comfortable speaking with the family?” He blanches, and Nia’s work phone dings, signaling another patient’s needs. You sigh for the eightieth time tonight. “Okay. Come on, we’ll do it together.”

The supply closet welcomes you with open arms. It hides you in the low light of it’s forgotten space, and when you fall into the chair, your face drops into your palms, pressing so hard into them that you start to see stars. The curtain falls. The walls of your sanctuary start to feel frail. 

Found you, found you.

He found you. 

Get it together. Get yourself together. 

“Hey, there she is. Missed ye.” Johnny coos, eyes half shut, sleepy and sweet.

“Johnny.” Simon rumbles his name like a warning, one your patient doesn’t seem to heed, still blinking slowly at you with a sly look on his face.

“Had a dream about ye, pretty girl. Dreamt ye were at ho-“

“Alright.” Simon cuts him off, swiftly. Patients often have vivid, weird dreams when they’re all dosed up on medication, and it’s not the first time someone has slurred out some weird vision they’ve had of you in their sleep.

“Good morning to you too.” You quip, glancing at the catheter bag before putting your hands on your hips. “How are you feeling?”

“’m alright. Stomach hurts.” You frown.

“Can you tell me where the pain is?” He motions to his upper right, the area where his newly repaired liver is sitting, and you nod, pulling out your phone immediately to update his doctor. Could be nothing. Could be something. Not for you to determine, but you won’t let it go unnoticed, and you’ll make sure it’s top of mind during shift report. “Can I check your side?” You motion to where his burn is lightly wrapped, and he nods with a sheepish smile.

“Aye, sure can. Ye can take my clothes off anytime.” You roll your eyes, unbuttoning his gown at the shoulder, peeling the gauze away very slowly. The wound looks better than you were expecting, if you’re being honest, and it relieves some of the anxiety that curled up in the pit of your stomach after his admission of upper right quadrant pain. “Yer hands are warm, bun. Feels nice.” Bun? You opt to ignore it. Probably still a little floaty.

“Good, that’s… good. Better than them being icicles.” Your hand brushes across the center of his abdomen when you pull the rest of the dressing away, and he tenses, ab muscles becoming clearly defined, enough that you stall out for a second before turning away to grab fresh gauze for his wound care, hands just a little unsteady. “Oh, fuck.” You mutter when the pack slips, sliding halfway under the little table that’s along the wall, and you sigh, whirling away from both of them and bending at the waist to tiptoe your fingers across the floor until you feel the corner of crinkly plastic. “Gotcha!” When you straighten, turning back towards the bed, Johnny and Simon are staring at you, and there’s a glee filled smile on Johnny’s face, it’s presence both mischievous and beguiling, fingers of his good hand slowly rubbing circles into the inside of Simon’s forearm. “What?”

“Nothing. Ignore him.” Simon deadpans, and then shoots his partner a very serious look, one that nearly has you straightening like you’re in trouble.

“Ach.” Johnny huffs, stroking a gentle touch upwards across Simon’s jaw as you start to reapply his dressing, taking your time to ensure everything looks good and he’s comfortable. You smooth over it once you’re satisfied, checking for any precarious pieces of tape. “Ye take such good care o’ me.” Johnny murmurs, accent soft and scratchy. It’s decadent the way his voice sounds sometimes, enough to make your throat dry and the room feel too hot. “Got lucky, didnae we, Si?”

“Well, it’s m-my job.” You answer, trying not to look down at where his chest and stomach are still exposed, or get caught in the cerulean blue waves of his eyes. They’re such a stark contrast to the intense, velvety hue of Simon’s, the pointed focus of his gaze that’s able to stun you, throw you off kilter the same time Johnny’s makes you feel overheated, and lightheaded. Both of them together could drown you. Overwhelm you.

Balanced. A yin and a yang. 

Get it together. This is your patient and his partner, for gods sake. What is wrong with you? 

Something warms brushes along the skin of your knuckles, a fleeting touch, and when you look down, you see Johnny’s hand, two fingers barely stroking yours, the lightest touch catching your breath in your chest like time is slowing to a crawl, and you’re freezing along with it.

Everything goes quiet in your head.

Simon’s watching you, methodically studying you like he’s trying to decipher every twitch in your expression as Johnny’s fingertips move over your knuckles to the back of your hand, thumb slipping into your palm, blazing heat sparking beneath it.

What… what is happening? 

A phone vibrates. The noise snaps you free from your near statuesque state, and they both divert their attention to its screen. 

“They’re here.” Simon tells him, glancing at you before looking back to his partner. “Be good.” He warns, and Johnny rolls his eyes in response, but he looks almost… desperate now, eyes wide and anxious. 

“Hurry?” he asks, hopefully, Simon leaning down to press mask covered lips to his forehead, his eyes shuttering closed, deep breath passing between their two bodies.

“I’ll be right back.”

“I’m really concerned about the pain in his upper right quadrant. I already sent a text, but if his doctor isn’t on this floor in the next hour, page him again.” The dayshifter nods, tapping a note into her phone. “And Marshall’s resident is practically unsupervised, so keep an eye out.”

“Okay, sounds good.” You mention a few other things, details you noticed throughout your day, and she thanks you for the extra eye, sending you off with a parting wave into the cold, crisp morning, your mind already skipping over your commute to when you’ll be able to sink into your bed one last time.

You’re busy compiling a list as you wait for the elevator. Necessities, things you’ll need indefinitely as you bounce back and forth between a rotation of hotels and on-call rooms, all the usual stuff, clothes, toiletries, and all the important things that can’t be left behind, your birth certificate, passport, other things that could make or break you if lost.

Deep breath. You can do this. It’s not the first time. You’ve done it before, and you can do it again. 

The elevator dings. You take a step forward, not paying attention, and then pull up short when you see who’s getting out.

It’s Simon stepping towards you, with a baby girl in his arms. She’s situated on his hip, nestled into his side and for a second, you falter because… you recognize her. Or at least you think you do... she looks just like the little girl you saw last week.

“Um. Hi.” You blurt, failing to notice at first that he’s not alone, the man from the first night you met them, the one with the mustache standing behind the width of Simon’s body, his arm curled around the woman you saw last week. They step into view, and you give them all a polite smile, one you really hope doesn’t betray your confusion. 

“Hi,” he says your name next, says it so softly it feels tender, and then takes another step closer. “This is Penelope. Our daughter.” Oh. Oh.

They have a baby. A girl. They have a little girl. You don’t know why, but something inside you stumbles, melting into a frazzled, awkward mess, heart thumping in your chest. They have a baby, and Johnny almost died. They have a kid and he’s been trapped in this hospital, miserable in pain, missing his kid. “Pen, this is your Da’s favorite nurse.”

“Bunny.” The baby, Penelope, says, little finger stretching out towards your badge, which is facing outwards with the giant sparkly sticker. Simon chuckles, genuinely, masked lips pressing to her cheek, and you see a glimpse of a father, a protector, a provider. It makes you feel dizzy.

“We’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks, and you nod like a robot, unable to really form a word with your tongue. “Alright baby girl. Let’s go see your Da, yeah?”

[frudoo]

Full Hands — Captain John Price

Me 🤝 writing fics about John with kids

(I want to have his babies)

Warnings: Fem!reader, John is nice but DON’T TALK TO STRANGE MEN!!!!

Full Hands Masterlist

The morning had started out disastrous, to say the least. The kids were already up when you arrived, and before you could even take off your shoes, their poor parents were out the door, looking exhausted as ever. You understood why as soon as you saw the mess of clothes and toys that were sprawled throughout the house. With a sigh, you clean the house up, and after wrestling the rambunctious little girl into the bath and dressing both her and her baby brother (who was cranky from lack of sleep and a stuffy nose), you headed out the door to go to the park. You could only hope that the crazy little munchkin would wear herself out and take a good nap later.

“Look out!” You gasp, grabbing the chatty four-year-old by her arm before her face can make contact with a lamp post.

Your yelp wakes up the baby strapped to your chest, and your eyes widen when you see his lower lip starting to tremble. You place one hand beneath his bottom and adjust the wrap so that he feels more secure, bouncing in place to try and stop him from the inevitable cry-session he’s about to embark on. Luckily, your soothing efforts work, and the tired babe falls right back asleep before the first wail can escape him. You sigh softly in relief, grabbing his older sister’s hand and pulling her closer to you to avoid any more potential accidents.

“I wanna go to the paaaark!” She pouts, trying to run ahead of you, but your grip tightens on her.

“We are, sweetheart, but I need coffee first,” you explain, running your thumb along her knuckles as you guide her into the quaint little café.

The little girl huffs defiantly, but her big brown eyes widen in pure excitement when she sees the arrangement of delicious pastries behind the glass display. Instantly, she’s tugging on the hem of your dress, pigtails dancing wildly as she bounces up and down.

“Nana! Wanna cake pop, please? Pretty please? I’ll be good, swear! Won’t be sassy!” She rambles, pulling you to the front and subsequently running into the man that was already trying to order.

Your heart drops into your stomach when the man turns around, and you pull the little girl into your side in a protective manner. He’s tall and built, and were you not afraid that he was about to give this clumsy little girl a piece of his mind, you would have found him rather attractive. Much to your relief, the man gives a soft chuckle, kind eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Look a little young to be a ‘Nana,’ yeah?” He teases, sparkling blue eyes scanning your skeptical face.

“Oh, I’m just their nanny. She refuses to call me by my real name,” you explain sheepishly, glancing at the sleeping baby all cozied up in the wrap you’ve got strapped to you. “I’m so sorry about this. This guy’s been sick, and the little miss is using it to her advantage since I can’t chase after her like normal.”

The man tuts, giving you a sympathetic smile. He looks down at the girl who’s now hugging the back of your leg, poking her head around to meet his eyes. He hums once, pulling out his wallet.

“Alright if I get her the cake pop she’s fussin’ ‘bout?” He asks, nodding his head toward the array of colorful treats.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you wave your hands frantically in dismissal, eyebrows furrowed.

“Nonsense, I insist. Matter fact, what did you want? Some coffee?” He pushes, guiding you closer to the counter with him to show that he’s serious.

“I was gonna get a latte,” you frown, feeling bad for taking advantage of this man’s kindness, no matter how badly he wants to do it.

“Atta girl. That all?” He pats your shoulder, and you ease up a bit—however, still on alert for the girl that’s hiding behind your leg.

“Yes, sir. Thank you,” you smile kindly, rubbing your fingertips along the child’s arm as she giggles.

“None o’that. Call me John,” he grins, handing the barista some money.

You urge the little girl up to grab the cake pop from the barista’s hand. She mutters out a shy thank you (much in contrast to the nonsensical rants she always gives you) before hiding behind the safety of your legs once again. You huff softly in amusement and follow John over to wait for your coffee. He watches as the child takes a bite of her cake pop, chuckling in satisfaction before looking back up to you. His eyes twinkle as he watches you run your fingertips over the stirring infant’s eyelids, trying to get him back to sleep.

“You want to be a mum,” he muses.

It’s less of a question, more of a statement, and it catches you off guard. You sputter with surprise, eyes darting down to the girl enjoying her treat in order to avoid his prying gaze. There’s something about the way he looks at you—not in a predatory way, but in a protective way, like he’s known you for years—that makes you feel strangely content. At home in a foreign place. The little girl seems to sense your comfortable state because she stops hiding behind you and goes to give John a hug around his legs. You apologize profusely but he just leans down to pat the tot on her back.

“Gotta stop apologizin’, love. The little one’s just thankin’ me for the cake pop,” he chuckles, humming his own thanks to the barista as he takes his tea and your latte from her hands.

“Sorr- um. Thank you, John,” you take your drink from him, trying to ignore the way your heart skips a beat as your fingers brush against his. “But really, let me pay you back. I have cash, or I can send it to you-”

“What are you doing later? Once you haven’t got the kiddos, I mean,” he interrupts, trying to conceal the way his eyes had been glued to your lips as you spoke.

You furrow your eyebrows, not expecting to be interrupted, but the softness in those baby blues of his take away any negativity you might have felt. You shrug, sighing when you realize that the baby cuddled into your chest is now fully awake and will absolutely not go back to sleep.

“Not much, honestly. Was gonna cook dinner for myself,” you explain, smiling softly as you watch John wave to the baby, freckled nose scrunched in delight.

“Tell you what: how about I take you out instead, yeah? Consider it payin’ me back,” he beams, hopeful cerulean eyes staring into yours.

“Spending more money on me is paying you back?” You laugh, giving the little girl a stern look as she smacks your thigh to get your attention.

“Spendin’ time with a beautiful woman is more than enough. Swear it,” he pulls his phone from his pocket and offers it to you.

You try to conceal your embarrassment, taking his phone and typing your contact information into it. As you hand it back, John gives you a wink and a pleased hum.

“I’ll give you a call later, hm?” He smiles, patting your shoulder gently when you nod your agreement. “Have fun with the little ones.”

You wave a flustered goodbye to John as the impatient little girl grabs your hand and all but drags you out of the café.

Next ->

[alastorswifee]

- rough sex, doggy, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy, fem!reader

┏━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┓

Boyfriend!Cole always being gentle with you whenever you both are intimate because he knows he’s a big guy and the idea of hurting you would make him feel terrible

He would always ask permission for everything the majority of the time. His calloused hands roaming your body and groping you, his touches as gentle as cotton on your skin

You absolutely adore Cole and the way he handles you but admit it, a big strong man like Cole being rough with you sounds hot right?

Exactly.

You eventually bring it up to him, maybe you two can try being a little more rough in the bedroom. You promised him that you trusted him with your entire being and after a few repeated ‘are you sure’ questions from Cole, he agreed.

“Just tell me if it’s too much okay? What’s the safe word..”

“Cake”

Boyfriend!Cole having you ass up, body down on your shared bed as he drills into you from behind. His hands had a tight grip on your hips, sure to leave bruises later on

His grunts were deeper and heavier as he gave you backshots, his harsh movements shaking the bed everytime his hips collided with your ass

“That’s it baby, atta girl..”

Boyfriend!Cole has a lot of stamina and you know this for a fact but when he’s like this, you get fucked out easily

Right now he’s pulling another orgasm out of you and your face is buried in the bedsheets with your hot tears staining the fabric below you. Your body had given out a few rounds ago and if it weren’t for him holding you up, your body would’ve been flat against the bed due to exhaustion

You’re not upset that he’s still going, in fact you’re glad, your body just isn’t exactly fully used to this rough pacing just yet so for now you’re just laying on the bed fucked out as Cole continues to jackhammer his cock into your abused hole

Didn’t take too long before you had another orgasm, nuzzling your face into the bed as your lower body shakes and spasms from the overstimulation

Your orgasm set Cole off tho and not too long after, you felt his hot load being pumped into you yet again. You could’ve sworn you had a small bump in your lower tummy from how much he’s been filling you up. But admit it, are you mad?

No you’re not you whore.

Boyfriend!Cole who was getting ready to call it a night as he pulls out and gently lays you onto your back but pauses as he saw the little bump within your lower stomach

Curious, he gently presses on it and suddenly all his cum within you started to leak out and spilled onto the bed

The sight gets him hard all over again..

His mind flashing to the thought of you getting pregnant, belly swollen and round, filled with his little one that you’d be carrying..fuck you’d be an amazing mother

Just as you thought it was over, your boyfriend gently pushes your legs towards you and against your chest

He folds you into a mating press and gently starts to push his cock back into your heated core, resting your legs over his shoulders as he presses his palms firmly against the bed

“Sorry baby, think you can take another round?”

┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛

[switchbladedreamz]

Eating Me Alive

~~~~~

Pairing: The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x Reader

(use of y/n? No, not bc I hate her just no name mentions. Plot? What plot? Mention of pipboy, reader is former vault dweller ((i just needed a reason to explain the flashlight)) )

Requested?: nah

Summary: 🔞‼️cunnilingus in an abandoned bar. Thats it. Lol. Cooper eats you like you're the last pack of Miraluke Cakes in the entire wasteland.

~~~~~

~~~~~

It was a day like any other. Scouring around Megaton searching for food and medicine to restock and trade for caps. Today we went further and found a new corner of town. What was also new was the fire breathing ant colony a mere 30 feet from the bar. Looks like they over took a rundown construction site. Cooper pulled us into some building and barricaded the door. "Them fuckers are a pain in the ass to deal with and I don't know about you but I'm not feelin very fireproof right now. We'll wait them out here. Wherever the fuck "here", is." I look around but can't see anything. I turn the flashlight on on my pipboy. I turn and turn, checking all directions until i get a feel for the place. "Huh. It's a bar. I'm gonna look around and make sure this is the only door."

"Okay, there is a back door. I tried to open it and got it a crack, there's a bunch of rubble on the other side. I guess from the building beside us. The little windows in the bathroom are broken but too small for even a baby ant to get through. So I think we'll be safe here waiting out that swarm". Strong hands capture my waist. Warm brown eyes like Sunset Sarsaparilla catch the breath in my throat like a fish on a hook. "Have I told you how sexy you are when you take charge like that?" "Where's this coming from Coop? You already get drunk in the five minutes I was gone?" I laugh him off, not thinking anything of it. Firm glove-covered hands lift me off my feet. My hands fly to Cooper's shoulders. "WHA- what are you doing?!" No answer. Only a thud and sudden stability. Cooper sat me on the edge of a pool table. Must've been nearby. My arms twine themselves around the nape of his neck, his hat falling off in the rush of limbs. Cooper's lips are like burlap pillows against my own mouth. Heat bubbles underneath the surface of my flesh as hot breath, light opened mouth kisses drag down the skin of my throat. A soft whimper escapes when his hips force their way between my thighs. Denim and the curve of his hardening cock press flush against my sex, my legs can't find purchase around his torso fast enough. Cooper pulls away, his brown eyes curious and analytical as he stares at my panting form below him. "well shit you must be made outta sugar an puddin' with how sweet you are. let's see how sweet you taste down here baby." The Ghoul punctuates his statement with a smooth roll of his hips into my core. "okay" I mumble out, mind whirling swirling with butterflies and lust. "Okay? that's all you got to say?" his eyes harden slightly, analytical again. He nods to himself, confirming my consent with himself internally. Coop sticks the tips of his middle fingers in his mouth, yellowed teeth slightly catching on the leather enough that when he pulls his wrists- the gloves pop off. "Be a good bunny and keep your hands above your head". "Okay Coop". The smirk he flashes makes my knees weak and my stomach stir. Cooper's large hand covers my chest, he presses down until i lie on my back. He gives me a nod and small "atta girl" before busying himself with undressing me.

Sand-textured hands caress up, down, slowly up the back of my thighs, a gentle hand grasps each ankle. Cooper stretches my legs to his shoulders, then his hands bury under my hips before lifting my lower body. My ass is hanging off this dusty pool table, Cooper takes advantage of this position. He takes a deep breath, kissing the seam of lips. The wet muscle is warm and thick, familiar and strong as the point of his tongue splits my lips. Warm electricity blooms in my thighs, striking my core. Cooper's tongue rolls in circles against my slick hole, he inches the muscle inside. I can feel him inside me, the tongue twisting and writhing like a man crazed speaking in tongues. My back arches, my weight shifting to my shoulders as my feet press into the ghoul cowboy's back. Cooper takes this opportunity to change his focus. Flat and broad his tongue takes its time licking as he pulls away. And up. up. up. up. Right there. I gasp, he chuckles at me. The movement almost makes my foot slip. The Ghoul's lips draw tight around my clit as he sucks. The world behind my closed eyes swirl, his tongue flicks fast over the small pearl. My thighs close over my lover's ears. "Baby please don't stop" I plead. My eyes close tight, still keeping my hands above my head. Without stopping Cooper lays me back on the table, his hands hook in the crook of my knees. Pushing my knees to my chest his own chest covers my lower half, my feet dangling midway down his back. Furiously shaking his head side to side, his assault blissfully continues. My nipples ache with pleasure, desiring to be touched. My fingers twitch eager to quell the burn in my breasts. Ecstacy's fingers dip into the river of blood that is my veins, lighting my body on fire. The bottom of my feet tingle and my thighs quiver. My breath catches, so close to bursting the dam. I can practically feel the proud smirk tattooed on my pussy while Cooper eats me alive. (Sexually.) The balls of my feet plant into Cooper's shoulder blades, my body squirms and thrashes beneath his frame. My breath catches in my chest as the dam bursts. Cooper's blunt fingertips dig into the thigh meat below my knees as my thrashing body throws itself against his face, that damn wicked tongue, riding my orgasm out like a plasma bullet from a plasma pistol. My breath is shallow and shaky like my vision. Sweat is pouring from every orifice I could possibly have. Cooper untangles himself from me gently. I can feel his irradiated warm brown gaze watching me. Thinking he can hide the cautious look in his eyes with pride. Like he's expecting I'll shatter into dust before I can catch my breath. Once I have I bend forward and grab my pants from the floor. Its a fight to get them up my sweaty thighs but once they cover my ass and are buttoned and zipped I put my boots back on. Cooper is waiting for me on his back laying to one side of the pool table. A knife gripped in his right hand, he uses the tip to clean the dirt from under his nails. "C'mere doll." He says as I crawl my way next to him. He sheaths his dagger then spreads his arm. Opening up my favorite spot just for me.

[pray4saint]

hii! can i order a grande americano with extra sugar (breeding and praising) with a slice of cake please?

atta girl

masterlist & descrip. rated r. 16+. smut. breeding kink. praise. fem!reader. couple uses of 'girl'. creampie/cumming inside.

a/n. yes ofc! thank you for participating :)) / also just a side note but dream with a breeding kink is one of my favourite things to write

dream's breath was warm against the back of your neck as his hips moved to rut against your ass, shoving his cock in and out of your cunt. all around the room the only sounds to be heard were your moans and whines, dream's little whispers and groans, and skin slapping against skin.

”fuck baby,” you felt when his hips stuttered in just the slightest. still, you pushed yourself back against him, trying to keep his cock inside you. then he leaned in real close and nipped at your ear. ”m'gonna cum inside you baby, okay? you gonna be a good girl and take my cum, right?” you nodded frantically and he grinned, he knew how badly you craved his praise, how it made you squeeze his cock and your hands ball harder at the sheets. ”atta girl.” he pulled his head up from beside you, focusing his attention on keeping your hips firm in his hands and keeping his pace steady.

you whined at him, ”c'mere, please..” you weren't even sure how he heard you but he did and leaned over, ”what is it love?” you breathed in and out, heavy and managed out few words with how hard his hips hit against you. ”please.” he looked a little confused although you didn't know that. ”please what?” it was hard to focus with how he panted and the air he released fanned behind your ear. ”breed me, clay. please. need it.” it was at those words that you felt your boyfriend's cock twitch inside your pussy, his pace faltering. ”yeah? y'want me to breed you?” again you nodded, keeping your face close to the pillow. ”course you do. you're my perfect girl, and y'always want to hold on to my cum f'me, isn't that right?"

”yes. fuck, yes!” he smiled and pressed a kiss behind your ear before tucking his face into your neck, his pace beginning to get sloppy. in almost no time at all, he's stopped the movement of his hips, pressing himself as far into as he can as he cums. ”that's it baby, you're doing so good for me.” still all you can do is whine at the feeling of him filling you up.

he takes a moment to rock into you again, fucking his cum as deep inside as he could, whispering sweet nothings. ”gotta make sure you keep it all in.”

pray4saint© do not copy, translate or repost my work without my express permission.

[xxfaggatronxx]

Mmmmmm Price-

But this time it’s Father’s Day related.

(Update: felt there wasn’t enough Gaz, so I added a few more blurbs of text.)

Price had a semi-normal upbringing. His parents were strict Catholics, everyone was hetero, cis, and white. He was always a little nervous talking about Father’s Day with his team though, as no one else had a Dad, or at least a good one, in Simon’s case.

Johnny’s dad walked out on them, the Scot growling whenever someone asked, but then he would proudly go on about how he helped his six younger sisters and what they were all doing now, or blab about how he didn’t need a father, he was the man of the household. But Price sometimes saw the hurt in his eyes, how Johnny would never talk about why his dad left. He explained one night, after a few beers, that he came out as transgender, female to male, and his sisters soon came out afterwards, seeing that their mother was accepting.

Johnny blamed himself for their father leaving, as the man was homophobic and transphobic, it seemed.

Simon’s father was a work all on its own; a druggie with a want for living in the past, ignoring the needs of his children just to get another quick fix, achieve a high that was as impossible as touching the stars with both feet planted firmly on the ground. Simon wasn’t closed off about this, gruffly and almost openly talking about their experiences with their shit father, how the man had turned its younger brother against them, made their job seem like it was criminal and bloodthirsty. Sometimes, if they were in the right mood, with a book in their hands and the worn baclava, it would quietly talk about their deceased nephew, Joseph.

How they would help the boy make Father’s Day cards. And near invisible tears would fill its eyes as they explained the first time Joseph was old enough to make a card on his own, he gave it to Simon instead of his father. No one mentioned how that same card was framed in their office.

Kyle. Kyle, Kyle, Kyle. Kyle didn’t have a father. Well, he did, but his father was a literal sperm donor. He was raised by his two moms, lovely women who had come to drop off brownies and other treats, how they found the secretive 141 base made Price turn to Kyle, who blushed when he asked, making a meek noise. “…My Mums track my phone,” Price was amused, his sergeant who dealt with life-or-death situations, was timid when it came to his Mums, and it was no wonder, as it seemed they put the Fear of God in that boy whenever he was slightly rude to anyone.

Price had asked about his father one time, trying to seek someone who had one, and Kyle’s nose had wrinkled, confusing Price. He had talked about two parents. The sergeant had laughed: “Mate, I grew up with my Mums, not a bloke in sight,” Price was immediately shot down, apparently having the only Non-shitty, present father figure in his life.

Gaz being anxious around two of Price’s other favorites, a certain….. couple. A couple who was looking for a third. Farah and Alex. Price could see the way Kyle near fell over his own feet in his haste to get either of their attentions, Price…. Nudging him along sometimes. Giving him pep-talks and little quizzes.

“Just talk to them! Remember, Alex likes….”

Gaz would pipe up. “Specifically rainbow-dyed Daisies, the band Green Day and Nirvana or anything considered Classic Rock, but he prefers to call it just Rock, and he takes his favorite drink, green tea, with four sugars and a spoon of cream, with Jaffa cakes!”

“Good. Farah prefers…”

Gaz would smirk, and expert in this particular subject, as he and Farah were so similar. “Farah likes daffodils, any Lofi hip-hop station, but she likes the one where the girl is writing in a book and an orange cat is on the windowsill, and she only drinks espresso on Thursdays, every other day is raspberry tea, nothing else.”

“Atta boy! Now…. Do you want a smoke?” And Kyle, he would smile at the fact Price shared his very expensive, Cuban cigars with just him. They would both watch a game of Futbol, new or old, and yell profanities at the opposing team until Soap, drowsy and pissed that they were screaming at two in the morning, with his partner Simon sleepily holding his hand, would yell. “Stop yelling at the damn box! Some of us sleep, ye ken?!”

Price fixed his boys’ views on fathers, and Father’s Day.

Fixing everyone tea in the mornings, coffee for a certain Scot who grimaced at the ‘Warm Leaf Water’ served to him. It also included going out for brunch, taking the boys to a brunch at Waffle House, Kyle grinning and going on about the waffles, and Simon who would order their single cup of coffee and too much creamer as Kyle looked on in horror at the lack of waffles. Then there was Johnny, who would steal bites from Kyle’s plate, even with his own breakfast. Price would end up apologizing to the waiter, at the end of it all, leaving a big tip.

What with Simon’s near refusal to speak to strangers, Price would order for them as they glared at the poor Waffle House server, Johnny changing the song on the old jukebox in the corner to anything Scottish, making the Brits in the Manchester Waffle House curl their lips in annoyance, to Kyle’s oddly specific order about how he wanted the eggs done a certain way and the amount of sugar in the waffles and how they needed to use oat milk in the waffle and-

“Sorry my boys are being so rowdy,” Price had sighed one day, and Kyle and Johnny had beamed, Simon blinking in surprise. Price brushed it off.

Price got used to leaving fifty dollar tips.

Then there was shopping. Simon liked the clothes at Hot Topic and Spencer’s the best, as it was mostly black. Kyle and Johnny could also find shirts they liked there too. Sometimes it was chaos, Johnny trying on the most outrageous outfits, asking if the thong he was modeling looked good or made his ass look fat, always joking. Kyle would wolf whistle and Simon would grip their knees with wide eyes, Price sighing and shaking his head.

Kyle would then follow after Johnny, putting on the crop tops and near panty-like shorts, asking if he looked gay, as Kyle himself was bisexual. Johnny would howl with laughter, “Not gay enough! I can’t see your dick-print, lose the underwear!” Simon looked horrified and would blush as people turned to stare in the dressing rooms.

Often times, Simon would follow after Price, dead eyed stare and built like a brick shithouse, and Price would have to ask for double XL shirts for his…

“Excuse me, do you have any XXL shirts? It’s for my… kid,” Price settled so it wasn’t as awkward for the employee. He didn’t notice Simon stiffen, and the employee walked away to find the requested shirt in the required size. Price turned and noticed their stared, grumbling about how they acted like kids anyways, so he might as well address them as such. He saw Simon tear up and quickly wipe their tears away, and could see a faint smile beneath their mask.

Johnny took the most of these to heart, and it wasn’t long until Price sought Johnny out, hearing soft sniffling from his room. “Son, you alright in there?” Price asked with a gentle voice each time, knowing exactly what was wrong, what was happening behind the closed door. Price would open the door, seeing Johnny in his boxers, binder off and too-big shirt, that was most definitely one of Simon’s, draped over his form.

“It’s stupid, Sir, I ken it’s just mah’ head and dumb hormones…” Johnny would mutter with grit teeth, testosterone bottle and a needle in hand, the syringe not even filled. It was a weekly dance, every Saturday like clockwork, if it could be helped. Sometimes missions got in the way though, and it was now three weeks deep, and Johnny hadn’t had his shot.

Price sat beside him, rubbing his back until Johnny handed over the needle. And they would go through the motions. He would insert the needle into the vial and draw up the thick, syrupy medication. Flick the end to get the air bubbles out, then pinch, insert, press, remove, massage. Then it was about reassuring and making sure Johnny was in a good headspace, letting him know that the team didn’t care about his body, only that he was happy.

And on Father’s Day, if he took after Simon and hung up the three handmade cards in his office, proudly displayed for all to see: rookies and bosses alike, who cared? Specially if all of them said:

‘To the Best Father I’ve had,’ From Simon

‘For my Dad,’ From John

‘To my Third Parent,’ From Kyle

[talesfrommedinastation]

My redneck neighbor Doug watches 'The Bad Batch': Pabu

So, maybe it's because the Razorbacks are currently up over the Tigers, which makes Doug's LSU loving self extra fired up this evening, but I have made the mistake of asking him again about his opinion on the episode after 'The Outpost', which was 'Pabu'.

He called this both 'HR Goes to Daytona' and 'Did I miss an episode?'.

Doug: Make sure you put one of my Baton Rouge boys on the internet too right now. GEAUX TIGERS.

CW: Doug insults everyone, everything, and is generally a cantankerous old jerk in this one. His wife should have unplugged his internet. Lots of adult everything, ranging from language to...well, if you're under 18, please be warned.

Prepare thyself, especially if you're a TechxPhee fan. The amount of angry emojis I got in the text messages were pretty wild.

----

'Pabu' aka 'HR Goes to Daytona'

Oh it’s Church Lady and it’s Sunday service. Why is little orphan blondie in the bar with her? Daddy Rambo has his knife but you know the man was plowing vodka out of sight here. He’s tired.

I thought he hated Church Lady? Did I miss an episode?

Ah, now Ryan-from-Accounting is playing solitaire. Atta boy, get your mind off the bitch wife Laura. If he makes out with that garbage robot I’ll throw up. 

Time to skee-daddle. Woah! Church Lady just grabbed Ryan-from-Accounting. That man looks terrified, probably because he found a Youtube video of her taking down muggers behind Manning's after a Pelicans game. Bitch wife Laura gonna blow a gasket.

But such is the way of the Church Lady, I have known many in my day. “I groped the hot new usher in Jesus’s house, but it’s okay, The Lord forgives”.

(praise the Lord and pass the Tabasco)

No, seriously, did I miss an episode? I feel like I did.  

Houma-BBQ bitch is bitching, as is her wont. I wonder what sauce her tail would taste best with. Carolina Gold? I’d cook her brisket style. Oh, wait, back to the show. 

And now they’re on paradise! Daytona Beach! Who is this guy, he looks like he used to play hoops now he plays how much dessert he can eat at Golden Corral. Props to him, that lava cake is gold. Hope Rex and Toaster Strudel are there.

Where are Rex and Toaster Strudel.

No, really, where are Rex and Toaster Strudel.

I’m getting real mad here, where are Rex and Toaster Strudel. 

CHURCH LADY, GET BACK IN YOUR SPACE UBER AND GO FIND REX AND TOASTER STRUDEL. I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOUR MUSEUM OF SHIT YOU FOUND IN PEOPLE’S BACKYARDS AND THE DUMPSTER BEHIND THE KEY LARGO PUBLIX, GO GET REX AND TOASTER STRUDEL.

SHOVE RYAN-FROM-ACCOUNTING BACK INTO THE DRIVER’S SEAT, PAY FOR HIS GAS, AND GO GET REX AND TOASTER STRUDEL.��

“You have some competition”. From what, there’s gonna be a hot dog eating contest or something? Why does Ryan-from-Accounting look so upset? 

(“I think they’re trying to set him and Phee up, Doug.” “What, when did that happen? Did I miss an episode?”)

Ryan-from-Accounting looks either sad or excited and I’m so confused. Maybe it’s because I’ve been married since before the dinosaurs but why is he either frowning and freaked out by Church Lady or smiling at Church Lady? Is he having a breakdown like my nephew did after he lost his job? Does Bitch Wife Laura know about this? Does he like Church Lady or is he planning on pepper spraying her? Did I miss an episode? Is this how the children flirt on the Ticky-Tack? No wonder y’all aren’t getting married any more. 

(“Doug, you did not miss an episode. And it is called Tik-Tok.” “I MISSED AN EPISODE. I KNOW I DID, AND IT IS CALLED THE TICKY-TACK!!!”) 

Ya know who would solve these questions? REX AND MOTHER LOVING TOASTER STRUDEL, WHO AIN’T HERE. THEY NEED TO BE HERE. WHERE ARE YOU HIDING THEM CHURCH LADY. 

Oh lovely, Hoops forgot to make a reservation at BoneFish, so they’re having his gas station sushi. Not one shrimp or crab on that table? Y’all Hoops is failing so hard right now, as a boy from Louisiana I’m just offended. His momma raised that man WRONG. 

You know who would love sushi on the beach while watching the sun set? REX AND TOASTER STRUDEL, and Daddy Warcrimes and Sassy Park Ranger too. 

I MISS SASSY PARK RANGER ALREADY!!!!!!

But no, Rex and Toaster Strudel are busy at work saving the galaxy while Julio and the gang throw back cocktails and stare at the sun like they dropped cheap acid they bought in a sketchier part of Biloxi. Which is all of Biloxi, I guess. 

Oh, and Ryan-from-Accounting is awkward around Church Lady and stares at his phone lest that Bitch Wife Laura of his get a snap of them sitting together and Little Orphan Blondie pets a monkey. I hope they all get food poisoning. I’m so mad.

They need Toaster Strudel the way I need FSU to lose this weekend, I have money on that game too. WHY IS ARKANSAS STILL UP IN THE SECOND QUARTER.

Ah, Little Orphan Blondie’s on a boat with her new buddy, that’s nice. If she doesn’t find Rex and Toaster Strudel out in the ocean with James Cameron I hope–oh, shoot, I was in the navy. I know what that water means. Oh boy.

Well bless Ryan-from-Accounting, he watches Big Tuna and knows how to do a rescue. Church Lady looks happy. He finally touched her, it only took a natural disaster and a whole lot of nagging on her part. Oh, poor Church Lady, you need a guy who actually likes you back. 

Seriously, why does that man look like the subject of them shitty videos HR makes us watch once a year so we don’t get sued? I don’t know, but I’m starting to understand why his Bitch Wife Laura is the way she is. I can’t believe the episode they filmed in Daytona makes me feel for her, but it do. 

(“Doug, you’re making up Bitch Wife Laura in your head. She’s not in the show.” “Well, it’s clear that I missed some episodes, so maybe I missed the Bitch Wife Laura ones.” “No, you didn’t miss any, I promise.” “Are you SURE?!”)

Man, the tsunami got people running like it’s Black Friday Wal-Mart in Tampa. But they rescued an old guy and Daddy Rambo got the stolen work truck working to rescue the kids. Hooray, I guess. 

You know who would have done a better job? Of all of this?

REX AND MOTHER-LOVING TOASTER STRUDEL. But they ain’t here!

(Doug's love for them runs hard and it runs deep, for which I can empathize)

You know who should have been on a beach horking down Mai Tais and getting into Church Lady and her handsy hands?

POOR POOR SASSY PARK RANGER. BUT HE DIED BACK IN WYOMING.  I bet he’d love a back massage from Church Lady too! He’d sass her, she’d sass him back, and they’d make out on the beach while Daddy Warcrimes played the saxophone behind them or something. I support that. I’d like that. He’s got brown eyes.*

Make it work, Star Wars, damn it. 

(Doug has unlocked a new rarepair, I guess: Mayday and Phee? WTF?)

Well they’re hanging out here in Daytona for the time being, I guess. Julio passed out under a tree like a drunk uncle at a cookout. Everyone's smiling.

I’d be smiling too, knowing that REX AND TOASTER STRUDEL ARE ACTUALLY SAVING PEOPLE WHILE YOU CLOWNS STOMP AROUND FLORIDA. 

Stop smiling at Church Lady, Ryan-from-Accounting! Is it because you finally filed HR complaint paperwork or because you filed for divorce papers from Bitch Wife Laura? Why are you smiling?! Church Lady belongs to Sassy Park Ranger! 

(“Doug…Sassy Park Ranger’s dead. He and Church Lady never met. You need to stop.” “IF THEY CAN BRING PALPATINE BACK, THEY CAN BRING SASSY PARK RANGER BACK TOO!”) 

*=I NEED FAN ART OF THIS NOW, please @amalthiaph! Help me out!

[604to647]

Hat Trick (Safest with You AU)

1.7K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Din takes you to a hockey game for date night. Hat Trick = when a player scores three times (goals) in a game.

Warnings: 18+ content (MDNI please), No smut but smut adjacent, established relationship, possessive!Din if you squint really hard, thigh riding/grinding in public, dirty talk, light degradation (whore, affectionate), pet names as usual (pretty bird, baby, sweetheart, etc.), use of hockey terms.

A/N: My beloved Canucks are leading their conference (woo!) and they’re playing tonight so to wish them luck, here’s a little one shot with our Safest with You couple. There’s a little more characterization of reader in this one in that she’s a big hockey fan, hope that doesn’t stop anyone from enjoying the story! 😘 Also, the term "puck bunny" is used but is not intended in any actual derogatory or sexist way; it's completely light-hearted teasing because we, reader and Din, all know that shaming female fans is not a thing and we can happily let woman enjoy sports any way they want🏒🐰

“These are great seats, Din!” you beam, as you take off your jacket and look around; you’re seven rows up from the ice in the lower bowl, right behind the goal.  Perfect seats.

As soon as Din sees your sweatshirt, he laughs at the bright team colours and large block letters in the front that read “I just hope both teams have fun.”  My sweet girl, he thinks.

Turns out, you did not want both teams to have fun.  Turns out, you wanted the visiting team to eat ice shit.

The first time your team’s defense crushes someone against the glass with devastating precision and you roar your approval, he looks over, stunned.  While he knew you loved hockey, he hadn’t expected you to get so into a live sporting event.

And he knew you had a mouth on you, but he’s never heard it at this volume, your hands cupping around your mouth in a makeshift bullhorn to amplify your trash talk:

“PUT HIM IN JAIL!!!!” When the ref doesn’t call for the tripping of one of your players.

“Don't get too comfortable!!! Don't even sit down!!” When the opposing team opts for a two-man advantage for their power play by pulling their goalie.

“How was that fucking slashing?!  He barely touched him!! What is this, soccer????”  When your team captain is put in the penalty box.

“Get it together!! I've seen more organization at the zoo!!” When the teams fight for the puck against the boards, the other team attempting to clear.

“This isn’t cake, stop icing!!” When the other team does clear the puck.

You’re equally as vocal with your encouragement and praise:

“Shoot it!  Shoot it!  Atta boy!!”

“Let’s go defense, let’s go!! Yesssssssss!!”

“Fucking look how smooth that line change was!!”

“Get it, get it, you got it!!”

You cheer loud and earnestly for every save your goalie makes, face-off won, and glove dropping fight.  Each home goal is celebrated out of your seat, reverie extending to Din and your seat neighbours via hugs and high-fives. Your energy is infectious and Din hasn’t had this much fun at a hockey game in years.

During the second intermission, just when the two of you are musing if it’s worth the line-ups to get a bucket of popcorn to share, you hear a familiar voice say your name.

“Jessica?” you squeal in delight, throwing your arms around a petite blonde, “I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“I thought that was you! Derek and I have been debating it over the last two periods, and I finally said I would just come over and find out for myself,” she points up in the stands a couple of sections over and a few rows up, and you see her husband waving wildly with both arms and you wave back enthusiastically.

The two of you catch up quickly and when you introduce Din to your friend, she looks thrilled, “Do you play as well?”

Din looks confused, so you proudly answer for him, “Din’s a boxer.”

“Ohhhhhh. Sorry, you just had the look of an enforcer, but that makes sense.”  You have to keep yourself from laughing at the double meaning Jess definitely didn’t intend.

The two of you chat a little bit longer before your friend has to leave if she’s to make it back to her seat before the third period starts.  As you say goodbye and promise to see each other again soon, you look up to wave to Derek as well, and Jess says, “Oh, yeah, Russ is here with us too.” The man sitting next to Derek locks eyes with you and waves back, same as his friend.

Starting up the stairs, Jess says, “Nice to meet you!” to Din, a sentiment he returns, and to you, “Nice to see you’re branching out,” before she winks and runs away as you roll your eyes good naturedly.

When the third period gets underway, Din leans over, “What did she mean, branching out?”

You feel your cheeks get hot, and you avoid Din’s eye by keeping yours locked on the game, “Oh… well, I used to almost exclusively date hockey players…”

“Like…. a puck bunny?”

Dropping your jaw, scandalized, “No!! Not like a puck bunny!! That’s not a thing!” And as Din laughs, you feel the need to explain, “I wasn’t trying to date hockey players.  It just turned out that the people I dated also happened to play hockey.  Like, when Jess set me up with Derek’s friend, I didn’t know they played on a team together!”

“Oh, that guy over there?” Din looks up at where Jess has rejoined her husband and sees the man next to him looking over at the two of you.  You shrug and nod, turning back to the game, “So anyways, it was kind of like this joke that if I dated someone, they would coincidentally turn out to play hockey.”

Puck bunny, you mutter under your breath, and Din grins and throws his arm around you, kissing you on top of your head to placate you.

After the end of an exciting final period where your favourite right winger almost scores a hat trick, you and Din file out of the arena with the crowd, Din’s arm casually draped around your shoulders as you practically bounce out of happiness at your team’s win.

While walking to the subway, you spot Derek’s head peaking out above the crowd and he smiles big when he sees you and starts to make his way over.  Your two groups converge near the subway entrance and it’s another happy reunion. You haven’t seen Derek since you last saw Jess and you’ve always found him to be hilarious, laid back and kind; perfect for your bubbly friend.  Even seeing Russ again is nice, although there isn’t really any reason it wouldn’t be; the two of you had dated for a bit, but your long work hours and his away game schedule had prevented it from getting too serious, and the two of you had parted amicably.  If he stares at you while the five of you chat and revisit your favourite moments from the game, you don’t notice.  Derek and Jess invite you to join them at the sports bar they’re heading to, but you and Din politely decline, saying you have to get back to Al.  Only Jess and Din catch Russ’ look of disappointment before you part ways.   

While waiting on the subway platform, Din asks to know more about your friends, and you tell him everything: how you and Jess met at a baking class, Derek’s courtship and their wedding, and also about your and Russ’ brief relationship.

When you get on the subway, it’s too packed for you to find seats, so you end up standing right next to a pole by the door, with Din hovering protectively, ready to catch you if you lose your footing while the subway moves. 

“You know… I know how to play hockey too,” he’s looking at you with a silly, pouty face and you can’t help but giggle.  “Not ice hockey, but we’d sometimes play street hockey in front of the gym when we were kids.  Stopped after Paz broke a car window and it turned out that car belonged to a Hutt and nearly started a damn street war.”

“Omigod,” you chuckle, imaging a young Din and Paz running around the street with hockey sticks. 

“So… your streak isn’t broken… puck bunny.”

“Ugh!” you playfully swat at Din’s shoulder, “I told you!! It was a coincidence!”

Din leans in, pressing your back into the pole and whispers, “Ok, not a puck bunny… but you’re still my bunny.”

You gasp a little at the possessive tone lacing his words and can’t help but squeeze your thighs together, squirming slightly and hoping no one on the subway notices.

Din notices, though, “Is my pretty bunny feeling needy in front of all these people?  You need something between those legs, baby?”

You nod, whimpering just a bit, and pull Din closer by tugging at the bottom of his jacket.  Very subtly, he steps between your legs and bends his knee slightly so the angle slopes right at your core.  When the subway makes a tight turn, all the passengers jostle and Din’s leg bumps up into you, giving you a jolt of electrifying friction.  You close your eyes and have to bite you lip to stifle a moan.  Feeling cocky, Din whispers hotly in your ear, “Let them hear you, pretty bird.  Let everyone in this subway car know how dirty you are, getting off on daddy’s thigh in public.”

The subway goes over a bumpy stretch of track and you’re knocked right into Din’s chest, pressed up against his body, practically sat down on his leg.  You don’t bother to upright yourself, instead letting the rolling movement of the subway rock your needy pussy back and forth against Din’s thigh, slowly warming the ball of pleasure within you.

You’re practically humming with need in Din’s arms; just before the subway jerks to a stop, he growls in your ear, “Do you think you can come like this, baby? Or do you need me to fuck you in front of all these strangers, so they can see what a pretty whore you are?”.  The screech of the subway brakes cover-up your moans, and you’re only slightly relieved when Din withdraws his knee, but continues to hold you close against his chest.  As the train starts to move again, you look up at him with your lust hooded eyes, and quietly whine, “Daddy.”

Din chuckles and leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, “No one gets to see you come but me, okay pretty bird?  Now can you be a good girl and be patient for daddy?  Just two more stops and I’ll give you that hat trick you deserve when we get home.”

Smiling dreamily at the promise of multiple orgasms, you nod, “Okay, I’ll be good.  As long as both teams get to have fun,” and as you snuggle deeper into Din’s arms, you feel his whole chest vibrate with laughter.

Part 2 (The Playoffs)

[milky-aeons]

— BOOK ROOM

[ a collection of this blog author's favourite recommended reads! ]

𑁍ࠬܓ . . . here, on the bottom shelf, you will find my comfort reads. the fics i find myself reaching for over and over again. ones that will no doubt make you laugh and giggle and cry, that will remind you of nostalgic summer skies and warm, humid nights.

project jean by @jeanboyjean

atta girl by @st4rd0lly

by any other name by @kentopedia

mid day naps by @fyorina

sleeping without izana by @luna0713hunter

straight up by @gaoau

there's little miss bonten! by @arlerts-angel

wonder if she loves me by @luna0713hunter

𑁍ࠬܓ . . . oh, you have found my armoire? these fics i keep close to me at night. it brings me joy to know they are within the world, that the author has spun something so beautiful.

armin arlert sleep headcanons by @arlerts-angel

figure skater gojo headcanons by @volensnolenss

what it takes to kill an angel by @mncxbe

izana headcanons by @tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang

when izana plays the guitar by @luna0713hunter

☂︎✧.* . . . my window seat is much worn and many cherished. please, pick up a book and listen to the rain tap against the panelled glass while you let these words whisk you away.

look at you by @bokutosbiceps

cake for breakfast by @arlerts-angel

does he know? by @jeanboyjean

𑁍ࠬܓ . . . the book room table can be seen littered with works this blog author is currently reading. they have just left such a spectacular impression that they already have their home here amongst the others.

dead girl's beach by @kokoch4n3l

i think i want to marry you by @arlerts-angel

and for you, i would fall from grace by @chuuyrr

raison d'etre by @gaoau

unreal unearth by @fyorina

wasteland, baby! by @fyorina

[paintedstories]

Can we get a part 2 of failed mission!!

FILED MISSION [2]

⚠: cussing, rough sex; manhandling; biting (mentions), breeding(mentions); gagging (mentions); use of a dildo(on fem reader); mention of fainting. ⚠: please tell me if I forgot any part 1 ♥ Master list 📃

"I.......I please too much...baby-"

"shut your mouth before I gag you with my dick," He said angrily making me clench on the dildo that he was fucking me with. Pushing it deep in my pussy and then he slapped the end of it making me jolt as he laughed maniacally making me even more aroused, why was he so hot when angry, I don't know why, but I liked it so fucking much, too much that I cummed on the spot.

"atta girl atta girl, can't even hold her cum for me, can't she? hmm what should I do with my angel, hmm should I play with those angel boobs till she cries/ should I fuck her boobs and bite and lick them like a starved man? or should I bite her heavenly legs so that when she wears short pants or skirts in this hell hot summer everyone will see how good she is to me? hmm, what should I do sweet cakes, tell Hyunjinnie"

before I could say anything he started sucking and biting my right boob while massaging my left side right under my ribs with his big veiny hand making me whimper and tremble under him.

" J....jinnie-" he stopped me by putting his left hand behind my head massaging the back of my neck.

"If you say that name again I will fuck you full of my cum till you faint, understood?" he said sternly, I started nodding my head when he grabbed me by the chin and angrily spat

"understood?!"

"yes..yes yes Jinnie Yes!" I said the name again for the exact same reason he told me to stop saying it.

"that's it" he spad under his breath manhandling me to sit on his lap as he was rested in a sitting position on the pillows, he then put his big warm hands around my hip bone and waist, and started thrusting upwards making my eyes roll to the back of my head and slowly starting droll to leak on my chin to my neck and then my naked chest and boobs making him even aroused, starting to thrust harder and deeper.

All you could hear in our living room was the moaning of Hyun-jin and my cries of pleasure.

Then we heard a knock at our door and muffled scream

"BE QUIET! SOME PEOPLE TRY TO SLEEP HERE" The old lady again...we both groaned as Hyun-jin got out of me and put on some pants and went to talk to the old hag leaving me all bothered, alone and horny, ugh what you do to me Hwang Hyunjin......

+ if you want I can do part 3( I have a vague idea of what to write) but tell me if yall want one +love you my painting kits 🖌 !!! +(btw thank you anon for the request for part two!! if you want you can tell me a(n) emoji so that I know it's you whenever you will request next. If you will) + Feel free to always request!! +skz txt and Tokio Hotel

[quills-of-freedom]

Short Story ~ Pick your own ending

Bear vs Wolf

Female bodied reader X Eren Jaeger X Reiner Braun

Your boyfriend, Eren, has opened up to you and informed you that his biggest fantasy is watching someone else fuck his girl. Not just anyone, but someone who wants you, badly. So who better than Reiner Braun? He's had a crush on you forever - what could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: Cuckolding. Violence. Smut. 18+ only.

You couldn’t actually believe this was finally happening. Your boyfriend, Eren, had been nothing but honest and straight with you from day one; telling you his biggest fantasy is watching his woman get ravished by another man. He even went into detail - explaining how knowing someone is so desperate for his girl, watching them pleasure her in ways he could but differently… watching her squirm under another large, testosterone-fuelled body drove him hysteric. Now that you’d been dating for a while and the absolute solid foundation of trust was almost unbreakable, here you were in all of your gorgeous glory, laying naked on your bed; Eren shirtless and a fully clothed Reiner Braun at the foot of the queen-size.

His narrow golden eyes are unable to tear away from your perfect form. He’d been imagining what you’d look like naked for too long. And it’s better than anything his mind could have concocted while he could palm his cock under his hot quilt - a steamy sauna of shame and lust.

It was blatantly obvious Reiner had a thing for you. The way his stare would linger upon you a little longer than Eren would like. His small hue of rose tinted flattery whenever you’d flash that perfect smile. It took some convincing for the ox-like man to actually agree to this, thinking it was some weird, fucked up prank. But it was too big of a risk to pass up. And boy, was he glad he decided to ride along with it.

“Well…?” Eren cuts the silence with a brooding glare at the blonde, sitting down on an ottoman at the far side of your bedroom. “What do you think? You finally get to see her bare and vulnerable.”

Reiner’s cheeks burned white hot, his chest pulsating at the rhythm of his heartbeat. Beads of sweat were forming at his collar as his pouty lips were agape in sheer awe; your gorgeous, welcoming smile softly beckoning him to take some form of action.

“She’s… perfect.” His voice wavers, immediately clearing it after his croaked words. “You’re perfect.”

“And…?” Eren doesn’t remove his dark gaze from him. “What does that body make you wanna do? Look at her. Babe… give him a nice view of that pussy.”

Biting your bottom lip, feeling your own excitement and arousal at the knowledge of how much Reiner wants you, you cheekily lock your ankles together before raising your legs, giving him a flash of your slick cunt and perfect ass.

A noise emitted from the barrel chest of your guest, one you couldn’t exactly describe. A groan, combined with awe and a deep, guttural hunger.

Reiner felt a surge of heat gush down to his large cock, his trousers quickly becoming more of a tight fit.

“ ‘Atta girl…” Eren breathes, the sight of you removing all air from his lungs. The cherry on his cake, though, was how Reiner was practically salivating, his trembling hands already subconsciously undoing his shirt.

“Tell me…” Eren mutters, his own lengthy cock stiffening quickly. “What you wanna do to her.”

Reiner shifts back into the room, his gaze averting your goddess like body. “Eren… y/n I –”

Eren wrinkles his nose, brows furrowing. “What? You gonna pass up this chance to finally feel her? Feel what it’s like to sink your cock into her warm insides?”

The thought of missing out on this glorious opportunity pushed Reiner into desperation, his shirt now suddenly crumpling onto the floor as his back arches; climbing onto the bed on all fours, orbs not once leaving your gaze.

Eren smirks. A darkness clouding his eyes you’d never seen before. He leans back against the wall, still sat on the decorative stool.

You flinch in surprise as Reiner is suddenly on you, his large hand on the side of your face. His entirety is trembling with anticipation, tongue rolling over his bottom lip.

“God, I’ve wanted this for so long…” His husky voice mutters. “You have no idea…”

“Good.” Eren smirks, the throbbing of his cock almost unbearable.

Reiner inhales deeply through his nose as his lips crash onto your own with such impatience, he almost headbutted you. His tongue instantly slides into your mouth as he tastes you with a loud groan, hands roaming anywhere and everywhere they can. They were like greedy scavengers trying to grab a hold of anything they could - breasts, ass, thigh, hips, ribs…

A hiss emitted from Eren at the sight of Reiner dry humping you in such a pathetic way, he was sure Reiner wasn’t even aware he was doing it.

The friction of Reiner’s pants against your bare sex was uncomfortable, but you didn’t mind. Your own arousal was beginning to spiral out of control as this more than handsome man fawns over you with such despair it was almost suffocating.

“N'aww, s- so perfect…” He wines into your mouth between his invasive kisses. “F-fuck…”

Eren begins to rub his hand over the swollen cloth of his tracksuit bottoms, the lack of his own friction becoming unbearable.

Reiner moves his head down to your nipple where he tugs and pulls with his teeth, little whimpers escaping him. You were glad he’d shifted position, the rough material no longer grazing against you. His mouth slobbers as his movements get more intense, hands quickening before he moves his head down to your stomach and eventually, forcefully spreads your thighs.

“Shit…” He hisses, eyes quickly taking in your perfect slit. “Lemme taste her…”

“You wanna know how she tastes?” Eren cocks up a brow before getting to his feet casually, strutting over to the two of you.

Reiner sits up slightly as Eren’s warm fingers reach down and caress your cunt; the soft comparison of his skin to Reiner’s jeans making you gasp. It felt so good… Eren knows just how to touch you.

He slides in a finger, then another - the sight of you in pleasure resulting in Reiner’s jaw slackening even further.

Your flooded with a depressed emptiness when he suddenly removes his fingers before pointing them close to Reiner’s face.

“Taste her.”

Reiner scowls. “What? No way.”

Eren shrugs, looking away. “Your loss. C'mere baby…”

Climbing in front of Reiner, Eren pushes your legs open. “Lemme show you how you should be taken care of…”

“Alright.” Reiner flusters, pushing Eren back slightly. There was no way he was going to miss out on your untouched pussy.

“What? Changed your mind?” Your lover smirks, shifting to face him.

You gasp as Eren’s fingers sink into you once again, before he curls them and rocks you with haste.

“Ah, Eren!” Your siren call only heightens their burning desire for you.

“Only way you’ll get to have her fully is if you follow my rules.” Eren reminds him.

Reiner nods in understanding, his gawping expression fixated on you as you squirm and dig your fingers into the sheets.

Surprising you both - Reiner grabs Eren’s arm and removes his arm, a pathetic whimper emitting from your throat.

“Let me make you feel good…” Reiner whispers; lust dragging his tone down to an octave that sounded animalistic.

Before you could even register what he was saying, his two fingers invaded your insides with such a hasted eagerness, your back springs into an arch as the pads of his fingers begin to massage that delicious spot deep within your core. The spot that makes the entire room melt away, the only thing in your awareness was the huge man looking down at you with gaping awe. He watches your breasts rise and fall, the pace of your staggered, desperate breaths getting more and more erratic as his thumb begins to circle your external g spot.

“F-fuck…. R-reiner….” you breathe.

For someone you’d known hadn’t done this before, he was extremely dexterous with his digits.

An unexpected pang of jealousy uncoiled with venom within the pit of Erens stomach at the sight of you at another man’s mercy.

Maybe he wasn’t ready for this after all.

He tried to stamp out those smouldering coals before they erupted into a full blaze, reminding himself that this was his idea in the first place.

Reiners cock was already fit to burst at the feel of your insides so hungrily grasping him, yet the sound of you calling his name was creating small beads of sweat to begin to form across his forehead. His eyes didn’t know where to look - your beautiful form? Your face that was in sheer ecstacy? Or the sight of his fingers being swallowed by your pussy?

Erens dark eyes rest upon your writhing body as your pleasure is pushed higher and higher, the poison within him beginning to bubble into a simmer.

“Fuck, I can’t take anymore….” Reiner mutters as he quickly fumbles for his belt. “It’ll be quick this time, but once I’m done for the first time, I’ll last a lot longer.”

You didn’t know if he was informing you of this or just muttering affirmations to himself. He seemed to be so clouded with lust, he seemed to forget where he was.

“Remember….” Eren growls with a warning. “No cuming in her. She’s mine.”

Reiner nodded, but it was in one ear and out the other as his large and heavy cock was within his large palm, hastily lining it up to your heat. You weren’t sure how this glistening, throbbing monster would fit inside of you as his tip just squishes at your small hole.

Erens envy was quickly swirling out of control at the sight of Reiners size. Eren wasn’t small, at all. However it wasn’t as big as Reiner who was now groaning loudly as he eases the tip in and out of your slick entrance. Loosing all control, he then pushes your legs further apart with ease by your thighs, almost painfully. He just needed to be within you. At all and any cost.

There was a slip as he finally slid inside of you, your loud gasp as each fat inch was pushed within your core, little by little filling you up to the brim with sheer, unbridled bliss.

Reiners jaw dropped open and his eyes roll back with a groan as he proceeds to quickly yet firmly hump your insides, Erens view of his large, firm ass bobbing desperately only angering him further.

Reiner hisses, salivates and trembles as he watches your perfection react to every movement he makes. Your sighs and how your stimulated walls clench around him with gluttonous glee.

Eren was surprised to find that, although his heckles were up and every muscle in his sculptured form was tense - his dick had never throbbed so much in his life. It was like an animalistic instinct was slowly misting the room, blinding all those within with the primal urge to mate.

“ ’s too g-good. You feel… too good…” Reiner whines. “G-gonna fill you up….”

“No.” Eren growls. “That was the rule.”

Reiner ignored him, lying down over your body to almost shield you and pin you in place, his large balls tightening and ready to erupt.

With a snarl, Eren lunges forward, wrapping his forearm around Reiners neck and yanking him back.

A squeal of surprise leaves you as the two men tumble off the bed and begin to writhe around violently on the floor.

You couldn’t quite see from your position what exactly was happening, but you could hear cursing and yelling before Eren leaps up above you, sliding his rock hard testosterone ridden cock within you.

The change in shape within your insides felt good, your body overflowing with a haze of lust - orgasm fast approaching.

“All mine….” Eren pants as he fucks you, fingers digging into your legs.

Reiner gets to his feet and tackles Eren off the bed, pulling you by your hips and slamming himself back into you.

You could hardly take it.

Both men were fucking you with everything they had. And you couldn’t exactly deny the primal view of them fighting over who gets to fill you up was a huge turn on.

Eren

Loose strands of hair spill over Erens forehead, sticking to his face as his enraged face appears, grabbing Reiner by the neck and jabbing his knee into his ribs. The groan the blonde emitted was loud as he doubled over, his grip on you loosening while in a few swift movements, Eren used his body weight against him and ended up having him pinned on the bed, his knee pushing down on Reiners throat.

Eren drags you with ease down to his cock, his right leg at a distance, resting on a defeated Reiners windpipe. He roughly turns you onto all fours before he slams his hips against yours with a hiss and begins to pump himself in and out of you. His eyes are dark, brow furrowed as long dormant instincts were rudely awakened by the altercation.

“That feel good baby?” He hums, tongue running over his bottom lip. “Only I can fuck you like this…. see, Reiner?” He glances down to Reiners desperate face, honey eyes pleading.

You can’t take anymore.

Your coil tightens further, body rising higher and higher as you implode, insides spasming around Eren who let’s out a loud howl, his own orgasm releasing inside of you.

You are his.

Eren is the alpha. He owns you and Reiner in this swirling ecstacy. His hot seed filling you with spurt after spurt of thick goop. But he needed more. He needed dominance. He was king. It wasn’t enough.

Your bliss had subsided when Eren pulled out his erupting meat, holding it over Reiners face with a sadistic smirk, his never ending stream of cum splattering over his chizzled face.

He is the one in charge, as he slides back inside your cunt that is leaking with his seed.

Reiner

Loose strands of hair spill over Erens forehead, sticking to his face as his enraged face appears. However, with his body flowing with adrenaline, Reiner simply takes a huge fist and collides it with his jaw, causing eren to slump down onto the floor.

Wasting no time, Reiner flips you over and pulls you up to his chest, sliding back into you while his large palm splays across your neck.

“Fuck! You’re mine now.” He grunts gruffly as he thrusts, your orgasm snapping.

Your whine and insides tightening indicate your bliss, his awe was evident from his loud howl as his balls finally get to empty themselves into you. The grip on your neck tightens as his cum begins to overflow your tight tunnel, thick puddles of white liquid gold splashing against his sack that’s slapping relentlessly against you, over and over.

“M-mine….” He whimpers as he finishes, lowering you down with a satisfied smirk.

[siberat]

could i request some ratchet belly rubs? :3

Retirement Present

ratchet x first aid. Cw: stuffing, belly rubs

The best time to enjoy having a day off work was the night before. This way, your evening could be spent doing fun things, like drinking, wild parties, and berth acrobatics.

Well, perhaps if you weren’t the former CMO, that is.

Of course, he was invited out for drinks at Swe/rve’s. While he made an appearance, he reached his limits after only two drinks. No, he wasn’t sloshed. His days of getting overcharged were long gone.

He had a more homey plan for the evening. The tired medic was looking forward to spending the evening in a habsuit being tended to. His admirer promised pampering, and Ratch/et knew what he was getting into.

Well, kind of.

Fir/st Ai/d was a very dedicated doctor… but he was diligent in ensuring his once-superior was properly taking care of himself. The younger medic put 110 percent into everything he did. While this can be overwhelming at times, Ratch/et appreciated the mech’s good intentions.

Once he received the ping that Ai/d was ready, Ratch/et bid his farewells to his buddies, exited the bar, and headed to the other’s habsuit. His mind wandered as to what was to be served, and he licked his lips in anticipation.

Once before the new CMO’s door, Ratch/et knocked, entering only when Ai/d told him so.

“I told you, Rat/ch,” the younger medic chided. “You do not have to knock to enter my space. You are always welcome.”

“I know… just habit.”

“Well, take a seat. Supper will be plated up momentarily.”

Ratch/et did as he was told, parking his frame at the kitchen table. The aroma was tantalizing, thick with the mouthwatering promise of deliciousness. The first breath nearly made him salivate: his belly gave a loud, demanding grumble. Servo’s went to the source, gently rubbing the needy paunch.

“Was that your tummy I heard?” Ai/d giggled, walking out with a large plate of freshly made meatloaf- his signature dish!  Upon setting the plate down, Ratch/et admired the big log slathered in thick red sauce. His tastebuds were in for a party tonight!

“How big a slice you want?” Ai/d asked, serving utensils at the ready.

With a grin on his face, Ratch/et answered while slapping his belly. “Pile it on.”

“Atta boy.” The smaller medic beamed, cutting several thick slices of meatloaf and stacking them on the other plate. Scoops of creamy mashed potatoes and a hearty serving of crystal veggies filled the remaining space. “Here ya go!”

A plate was served for himself, and mugs of energon joined the mix. Once his host picked up his utensils, Ratch/et dug in. And that first bite was divine—the flavors tantalizingly dancing over his taste receptors. The meat was ever so rich and savory, and the sauce had just the right amount of sweetness!

Ratch/et loved Fir/st Ai/d’s cooking. To be honest, he did not have high hopes for the first dinner offered, but the younger doctor was full of surprises. And once it was known how much the former CMO loved them, the other went overboard. Lunches were soon packed, and even breakfasts to be consumed during the workday's first break.

It was no wonder Ratch/et put on weight.

No sooner was the first dish cleared were seconds offered and devoured. And Ai/d couldn’t keep his optics off that belly as it grew taunt. Of course, the chubby mech teased by rubbing his servo over that stuffed belly as if daring the other to jump from his chair and pounce.

Surprisingly enough, the overenthusiastic mech showed restraint.

At least until dessert was served. And how could anyone resist a triple-layered vanilla cake slathered in rich chocolate frosting with geode crumbles littering the top? Despite being so full, Ratch/et couldn’t pace up a slice of cake!

However, Fir/st Ai/d knew the other doctor would need help, and he was eager to provide assistance. So, once the wedge of cake was served, Ai/d walked behind Ratch/et and wrapped his arms around that broad, wide frame.

His servos went to gently knead at the accumulation of fat that swelled over hips. The love handles were always such a delight to play with- so soft and squishy! Ai/d nearly squealed with joy as his servos slid between the deep roll adorning the side- it was so warm and welcoming! But the best was feeling how taunt that tummy grew from the feast.

This was not only a sign of a good meal but a good cook. And Ai/d took pride in being able to pamper the other. How many vorns had he sat back and watched the former CMO take care of everyone else and neglect himself? And yes, Ai/d was aware that doctors tended to do that, but now it was the other’s turn to be doted upon.

What better way to show you care through one’s belly- be it filling it up or rubbing it down?

And Ai/d's hands explored all over that large, now grumbling belly. And any grumbles were chased down and soothed, all while the other worked to finish the giant slice of cake. When Ratch/et began to slow, those servos gave gentle pats, working to best burp that belly.

The now-CMO just loved how embarrassed Ratch/et became upon releasing those belches. His cheeks would redden, and he’d always excuse himself. But this just encouraged more burping. After all, the trapped air was better out than in —it made more room for cake!

But the sound of silverware dropping on an empty plate signaled the completion of the meal- same with the seated medic leaning back with a sigh.

“Have your fill?” Ai/d asked, giving the shoulder a loving pat.

“Stuffed. That meal was my favorite…. And I think I overdone it…” Ratch/et looked at his swollen midsection, ghosting a servo over the now-angry beast.

“Awww, poor baby.” Ai/d coaxed the older medic to scoot his chair out, then spread his chunky legs. Naturally, servos rested on those plush thighs as Ai/d got to his knees. “Don’t worry, you’re in good hands. I’ll take care of this achy belly for you.”

And that is just what the newly appointed CMO did. Now that he had the best seat in the house, his hands roamed over the rounded and firm belly crest. The touches were soft and tickling at first, making the older medic stifle some laughs. But soon enough, those palms stretched out flat and slid in circles over that belly.

Every spasm and quake were felt in the medic’s hands. The grinding of gears whined out as such a large meal attempted digestion. Plating bulged and seams widened. It wasn’t long before that strained belly paneling was removed, freeing the swollen protomesh that was stuffed within.

Ratch/et leaned back, relaxing at the touch. The belly rubs were awkward when first offered. No mech had ever offered them before, and he did not see the appeal of rubbing a stuffed belly. But Ai/d assured him the touch of servos on an angry belly was the best remedy.

Of course, Ratch/et claimed Pep-to was, but Ai/d eagerly proved him wrong.

Never again did Ratch/et slap away those prodding hands! He loved feeling the warmth they provided as they explored his growing frame. It was as if he could feel all the care and love emanating from those servos, and nothing relaxed him as well after a hearty meal.

The aching soon died away as those servos worked their magic. His belly was patted, pinched, and caressed all in the name of soothing. Burps were stifled as tired sighs exhaled. These touches could really put a mech to sleep!

Another sensation joined the mix. It was gentle yet wet and followed by a sucking sensation. Glancing down, Ratch/et discovered the younger doctor happily mouthing at his abdomen. Of course, those servo’s still roamed over his belly.

Those lips tickled as they placed soft kisses down the rounded abdomen. That tongue tickled as it traced long, zig-zagging stress marks.  That mouth felt inviting and warm as it sucked the pliable flab at the bottom of the tummy.  And those teeth pinched when biting at said flab.

“AH AH!” Ratch/et chided, wagging a finger, but still wearing a smile on his face. “What did I say about biting?”

Ai/d rolled his optics. “No biting.”

“There’s a good mech.” Ratch/et patted the top of the other doctor’s helm, relaxing back into the chair. However, this was short-lived. A new sensation was felt on his belly, but it wasn’t a bite. It was a long, hard-sucking sensation.

And by the time Ratch/et realized the other was placing a hickey on his chub, there was no stopping it.

[billkaulitzwife]

I know u only have 1 post so far but i literally love ur writing 😭 <3 can u do headcanons for the gang and how they'd be if the curtis brothers had an 8 year old kid sister? how they'd all treat her and such and how she'd feel about everyone <3 thank u!

AWHH!! TYSM NON! i actually write a lot of short stories, add me on snap or disc and i can share them🫶🫶

The Curtis's 8 Year Old Kid Sister.

Ponyboy :

this man is amazing with kids, like he'd work at the daycare or something

He's always lookin out for his kid sister.

bullies?

they're dead. gone. obliterated.

she says she's got a crush?

soda, dal, johnny, and pony surround her like

OOOOOOOH WHO IS ITTTTT

i feel like she'd play soccer or track like pony

because he's her favourite.

when pony bleached his hair she didnt recognise him and she thought he died🥲

Pony would always comfort this kid

hed die for her

if she was in that fire, she'd be the first one outta there

Pony would stop studying just to comfort her about anything

"Pony?"

-immediately turns away from his work- "What's up, sis?"

Sodapop:

dress up. this man would sacrifice his dignity for this girl

"Sodaa! Let's play fairies!"

"Hell yeah, kid!" and Steve would stare at him like 🥲

Steve: damn. someone took my bitch.

Sodapop would be the exact same about bullies and crushes.

He'd make her TWO cakes for her birthday (he has a favourite sibling)

Soda is SO defensive of his sister

When Darry and Pony get to arguing, Soda is the sibling to calm her down and hush her back to sleep

Nightmares? This man will do anything to not have them happen. Cuddles, stories, ANYTHING

hes TOO GOOD with kids

hed let her put makeup on him and put him in a princess dress (i literally did this to my brother)

the moment she turns 16 is the moment he dies inside

he'd play sixteen candles (not in a romantic way ofc)

Darrel:

He tries not to get upset when she colours on the walls or gets into trouble at school

She once brought a blade to school for show anc tell and Darrel got in SO MUCH TROUBLE

He tries to get her to stay away from Keith and Dallas

Darry's the kinda brother to not stand for any shi goin on.

like he'd slay? SLAUGHTER. somebody for looking at his kid sister wrong

The moment S/N brings a boy home

he dies of a heart attack

OR

he has his blade out and ready😋

Anytime Dallas is around or running from the cops it's automatically

"Soda, keep S/N in the house."

Darry would sit on the floor colouring with her all because she didn't wanna be alone while Soda was at work and Pony at school (a sick day ykwim)

Dallas:

"Who's this?"

"I'm S/N who the hell are you?"

"ATTA GIRL" -highfive-

he'd teach this girl attitude.

obviously has a soft spot for this kid

the crushes "tell me. is he cute? nice? hot like me?"

"hes real cute like johnnycakes!"

johnnycakes: HUH😰

Dallas would tell this kid to stay away from cigs until she's about Pony's age.

Darry thinks hes a bad influence, but he teaches her a lot

When its raining hed sacrifice his jacket since STEVE DOESNT WANNA WEAR ONE

if he was babysitting and S/N had a nightmare, he'd let her hold his St. Christopher while hugging or sum

He tries to keep his smoking to a minimum, but.

its ol dally we're talkin about.😐

He isn't the best when it comes to kids, but he'd kill someone if they hurt his neice

"UNCLE DALLY!!"

"hey, kid!"

Johnny:

Loves S/N almost as much as he loves Pony

He'd protect her life with his, even if it meant gettin jumped again

He's quick to worry about her

"It's about S/N, Joh-"

"NOOOOOO"

"Shes failing math"

"Oh."

He's the sweetest little thing with her

He'd let her play with his hair and ask questions about his scar

When Johnny babysits, Pony, Darry, and Soda always come home to a slumped S/N resting on a slumped Johnny's chest

He keeps his smoking to a zero when around her.

Johnny always admires the way she's so outgoing with people around her

Like they're the black cat and golden retriever duo

"Uncle Johnny?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we colour? Or watch Mickey? Or read a story? Or-"

"Alright, alright."

If S/N ever ran away to the lot because the boys were all fighting, he'd be the one to comfort her and walk her home.

Water fights in summer.

Steve:

he treats this girl like she's his sister

Soda: steve thats my sister, where the hell are you going-

"OUR SISTER"

Like he'd be like "hold the light so I can fix this"

He'd play dress up with her and Soda and wonder how his life came to be

He'd be wearing fairy wings and a pink dress with makeup everywhere on his face

When he brings Evie around, she absolutely loves on S/N

Evie: what a pretty young lady!

"I'm eight"

"S/N, be nice-

"NO IAN KNOW THIS BI-"

"That's enough"

When he's babysitting it's always baking together and colouring on the floor (and the walls)

He teaches her how to do push-ups and sit-ups and basically, this girl can punch.

She once punched Dallas in the balls cuz Steve told her to

He limped for 3 days.

Two-bit :

Since he has a sister at home, he brings her over when he babysits

He makes sure S/N tries staying outta trouble, but when the Shepards are busy and so is the gang, Two would be drunk while watching her

He'd take her to the movies whenever a princess movie was playing

Two once accidentally took her to see a horror movie and he couldn't watch her for 2 months

Like

Darrel grounded him.

He's forgetful of a lot of stuff

"Hey, kid how old are you again?"

"I'M EIGHT JESUS CHRI-"

Dallas: it's perfect.😍

He loves S/N so damn much.

When his sister started growin up, he hung around S/N just to bring some of the youth back

Whenever there's a rumble between outfits, or greasers and socs in general, he'd most likely be voted to stay back and watch her

Him and her get in each other's faces about different colours and princesses

"SNOW WHITE"

"CINDERELLA"

THAT'S ALL!!! tysm for the request! hope you like them <33

addi asking the boys whos babysitting :))

[pray4saint]

Could I get a grande Americano with a slice of cake 😋 with extra sugar! (Jealousy, overstimulation, masc reader!)

[Ty in advance!]

his sweet boy

masterlist & descrip. rated r. 16+. smut. masc!reader. jealous!dream. overstim.

a/n. just as a general memo, you can request gendered reader outside of the kinks :) , the gender of reader doesn't need to take up a space for kinks, if you were looking for a third

”clay, baby please!” you begged into your boyfriend's ear. his hand moved fast along your cock, trying to push you to your fourth orgasm. ”you shouldn't have been spending so much time with george today hon'. you know how that makes me feel.”

it was true, you did know how it made him feel and you didn't mean to spend so much time with the brit. george just had so many errands and you were already in the car so you went along with him.

”i, shit. clay i promise it was nothing.” he nibbled at your ear and he squeezed his hand around your dick, another round of pre dripping down the side and onto his hand. ”i would hope so. after all, only i can make you feel this good right?” you nod frantically and he chuckles under his breath, hand picking up his pace. you moan, your back arching off his chest and he presses his other hand down on your stomach, shushing you.

without warning, another orgasm crashed over you and you came, a loud mewl torn from your body. ”atta boy..” he muttered, although he kept his hand moving. ”please,” you almost screamed at the continued stimulation. ”please, no more baby.” you turned his face towards you, staring into his eyes. he looked like a kicked puppy, about to give in to your pleas, but something told him not to. ”be a good boy and give another. remind everyone who owns you, who makes you feel this good.” he whispers the words in your ear and they're followed by his thumb flicking over your tip.

pray4saint© do not copy, translate or repost my work without my express permission.

[abugeatbugworld]

Five times Dot made Flik laugh (and one time she made him cry)

5.

“Do you you think she’ll say yes?”

Dot froze, paintbrush halfway through the outline of a heart that she was filling in with red, and turned to look at him. Her left cheek was flecked with berry juice like she'd grown a patch of scarlet freckles.

“Why wouldn’t she?”

Flik snapped his gaze back to his current project. This and the banner Dot was painting were both part of his elaborate proposal to Atta.

They'd been working on this plan for weeks, he and his fiancé-to-be's little sister, sneaking away during Atta's daily council meetings to hide in the Blueberry Clubhouse and hatch their plan.

Said plan consisted of a romantic leaf boat ride along the creek circling the island, an intimate flight on a dandelion seed, a private magic show by Manny and Gypsy, and a sunset picnic atop the highest branch of the Great Tree.

Then, just after the sun dipped below the horizon and stars began to dot the night sky, the grand finale would ensue. Francis and Dot would fly into the air holding a leaf — the one Flik was working on — between them, the words "WILL YOU MARRY ME?" carved through its membrane. Two of the fireflies from the circus would then beam their butt lights through it, illuminating the words for Atta to read.

She'd say yes, fireworks would crackle through the sky, and everyone else would come out of hiding to celebrate the newly engaged couple.

That's when Dot and the Blueberries would unveil their surprise: a mural composed of scenes from the timeline of Flik and Atta's relationship. It included the first time he showed her his leaf telescope after almost squashing her with a stalk, the shy smiles they'd shared as they were building the bird together, and the moment when Atta stood up to Hopper on Flik's behalf. Much to Dot's chagrin, it even showed her sister kissing Flik on the cheek after she'd been crowned queen.

It was the perfect proposal. A flawless plan. Foolproof in every way.

And even if something did go slightly (or even catastrophically) wrong, Flik knew Atta well enough now to know that she would simply appreciate the thought behind it all. No matter how much she blushed and rolled her eyes at it, Flik knew that deep down the princess loved his over-the-topness when it came to their relationship.

So why wouldn't she say yes when he asked her to marry him?

Dot was still waiting for an answer. Flik began to rub worried circles into the broad side of the leaf cutter he was holding.

"I mean..." he murmured, his eyes still downcast. "She’s beautiful, and smart, and funny, and kind, and strong, and beautiful, and I’m just…just..."

His thumb grazed the edge of the blade. Dot put her paintbrush down before gently prying the tool from his hand and setting it a safe distance away. Then she turned back to him and tilted her head.

"You're just what, Flik?"

Flik's now empty hands fell open onto his lap. He gazed down at his palms, curling his spindly fingers in and out like Rosie doing her morning stretches. His answer was barely more than a breath.

"...me."

A few awkward seconds ticked by. They were broken by a loud crash and even louder cursing from the dining room, which happened to be where Slim, Francis, and Heimlich were attempting to make that night's dessert.

There goes the boysenberry cake, Dot thought.

Aloud, she said, “Well, Atta's just Atta. She really isn’t that special.”

The corners of Flik's mouth twitched into a grin. “Well, you’re supposed to say that about your big sister.”

A sudden warmth filled his palms. He looked down and saw paint-speckled fingers curled within his open hands.

Then he glanced up to find a pair of blue eyes almost as familiar as his own staring back at him.

“Well, it’s still true," Dot said. There was a fierceness to her tone that Flik had only heard a handful of times, usually when she was berating the ant boys her age. "And if you ask me, I think she’s the lucky one to be marrying someone like you.”

A beat of silence passed between them. In the distance, Francis's swears faded into words that were almost appropriate for young antennae. Flik swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.

"Thanks, Princess," he whispered, giving her hands a grateful squeeze.

Dot's glare cracked into a mischievous smile.

"If it makes you feel better, I already know what she'll say. I read her diary.”

[blackjackkent]

Glad I took a final look around, bc there's a whole chest of letters (loabeled "Chest of Grateful Words") and some Baldur's Mouth Gazettes pinned up on a board.

Various fun newspaper headlines first:

"Fresh Stock: An Interview with the New Master of Ramazith's Tower"

"Thorm's Army Dispersed from Baldurian Borders"

"Report: Stone Lord Killed by Beloved Ranger"

"Harpers Out of Hiding: Secretive Sect Step Forward to Aid City"

"Almond Cakes of Avernus: Elturian Refugees - and Owners of City's Newest Cafe - Share Their Recipe"

"Site of Foundry Blast Still Sectioned Off, Says Fist"

"New Waveservant at Umberlee's Temple: No Leads on Desecration"

"Ravengard Returned to Full Strength"

"Gondians Disband: 'Gond's Time Has Come and Gone'" (A/N: Bongle will be pleased. 🙄)

"Duke Stelmane's Murderer Still at Large"

"Planar Pains: City Caught in Center of Githyanki War?"

"Volothamp Geddarm's Guide to Baldur's Gate: Bard Seeks Contributors to Newest Edition"

"Last Holdout Cultists Cleared from Temple of Bhaal"

"Iron Throne Wreckage Continues to Block Shipping Lanes, Complain Merchants"

"Settles Bound for Lands Upriver Amid Claims Curse is Lifted"

"Business Boom - Take Your Troubles to the House of Grief"

"Witnesses Encounter Vampire Spawn - And Live to Tell the Tale"

"Six Months Since the Assassination of Archduke Gortash"

"Small Sun: Tour New District Built by Elturian Refugees"

"New Bardic School, Tiefling Founder, Secures Upper City Funding" (A/N: AHHHHH Go Alfira Go! :D )

"Jannath House to Host Evening of Art and Culture, Celebrating Salvation of City"

"Monument Planned for Heroes of the High Hall"

I love all of this. :D

Also a quick side note because I need to shout out my favorite bit of the ambient dialogue in the camp - everyone has been making random comments the whole night, but every once in a while, Shadowheart comments: "Withers has a keen eye for a nice vintage. Why were we scrounging in barrels and crates for supplies when he could source these? Gods, I remember one evening we had to eat fourteen apples, some fish heads, and a stale loaf of bread just to get by."

lolololol <3

On to the letters!

"Official Guild Letter":

Aw. :)

----

Wehhhhhhh. <3 I'm glad we got you free of the curse, Art. Poor guy.

-----

Hector still hates you, Valeria, and this isn't helping.

-----

Atta boy, Mr. Duke.

-----

I'm assuming Beard Man is Elminster. :D Excellent. I think Hector probably has Gale keep an ear to the ground on how she's doing; the whole group felt very protective of Arabella.

-----

Oh, shut up.

-----

[incredibly loud squinting from Hector] You are so FUCKING creepy, ma'am. And if you come anywhere near Astarion again, by the way, Hector will kill you (if Astarion doesn't do so first).

-----

Aw. I'm glad they were able to find some kind of stability, even though there was no real good outcome to that situation. :(

-----

Florriiiiiiiiiiick. <3 She's so cool. I wanna be Florrick when I grow up.

-----

This is kind of sweet actually. Growth for everyone.

-----

EEEEEEEE :D I love this so much. She deserved such a good ending and she got it. (Though people KEEP putting Hector's names on things; I think he's giving up on fighting against notoriety. XD )

-----

HI DAMMON! Hector definitely makes sure Karlach sends him a super nice letter bringing him up to date. He's a saint in their eyes, made it possible for them to be together at all.

-----

Hee. Elminster turned out to be interestingly nuanced in terms of Gale's storyline; he didn't really seem to approve of how Mystra was treating Gale, but also wanted to toe the party line of the goddess of magic. Hector's a smidge skeptical of him as a result. But good to hear he and Gale are still on good terms.

-----

<3 If Nocture eventually decides to leave the Sharrans, and Shadowheart goes to help her, Hector would absolutely be there to help as well.

-----

Eyyyy, Voss. I love this because he greets Hector with the title "She'lak", which means 'benevolent burden' (a term for a do-gooder hero), which I already headcanoned was what Lae'zel calls Hector. So she's got Voss doing it too, which absolutely makes Hector smile.

-----

Aw. Hope seems to be doing okay. <3 As okay as she can be under the circumstances at least.

@writer86 pointed out to me that the House of Hope would make perfect sense as a regular headquarters for Hector and Karlach and Wyll; I think they probably go there pretty regularly for time to rest and recuperate.

-----

Aw, Mayrina gets a happy ending! This is great! She didn't end up naming her son after Hector after all though lol. Which he's fine with tbh.

-----

Oh no. XD

-----

I love the implication that Nine-Fingers might have just randomly showed up too and been the only non-companion here besides Tara. XD That line about getting Jaheira to sing intrigues me. Fodder for a one-shot perhaps...

-----

Zevlor is such a great character, man. I think this is a good end for him, and hopefully he finds peace and happiness in it somehow, in the end.

-----

Awwwwwww. Atta boy Geraldus!

It's incredibly unclear to me how easily Hector and co. can or cannot get out of the Hells. But if he has the freedom to do so, he would absolutely be there. (Though honestly, lbr. It should be Jaheira.)