#but no no crying just getting really close to it and then my brain refusing to let it happen.

[izzy-b-hands]

My brain and eyes sitting here having me brimming with tears like: yes, we want to cry, crying would be helpful! A release of endorphins!

Me: Cool, let's cry then. I'm trying to make the tears actually...go, but y'all aren't letting them fall???

Brain (eyes are hostages essentially at this point imo): oh. Shit. you actually wanted that, huh? how about a stomachache instead even though you just forced yourself to eat enough calories to call it 'dinner'

Me: Can I at least cry while my gut hurts?

Brain: Oh! No. No, you can't :)

[erwinsvow]

it’s like you were put on this earth to bother rafe.

everyday, without fail, come some sort of request—rafe, let’s go get coffee. rafe, i want ice cream. rafe, i wanna go to bed. he tells you to go to bed and you whine immediately after, letting out a faint “not alone! not what i meant!” before he rolls his eyes, one huge hand settling on your hip and the other one on your back, throwing you over his shoulder and taking you to bed. 

once you finally get him there it’s all laughs and giggles and avoiding his gaze, getting shy again, refusing to tell him what you really want. he rolls his eyes and gives it to you hard, like he knows you need it, so you’ll fall asleep and let him finish his work in silence. and it works—for a few hours, that is. then you're up again, usually with more requests.

“rafe, they’re having a sale.” you fiddle with your R pendant, the way you always do when you want something and can’t find the words to just ask for it. for a girl pawing at his dick and begging for it raw half the time, you get awfully shy. 

“so? how many fuckin’ clothes do y’need?” 

“you’re the one who keeps ripping ‘em up! not my fault-”

he rolls his eyes, running a hand through his hair.

"knock it off," he says, coming out louder and more frustrated than he meant.

then he watches you quiet down and scroll on your phone, biting your cheek. he thinks he messed up and made you cry. he feels bad the second it's done, because there’s definitely some pretty, tiny dress pulled up on the screen that you want to show him. 

he knows how your brain works at this point—you want him to get it for you, take you out to a cute dinner so you can wear it and then have him yank it off of you later that night. you won’t ask for it though, there’s your shyness again. 

you feel bad when he actually does buy you anything more than a six-dollar latte or a big ice cream that you can’t finish.

"what're you looking at?" he finally asks, not even a minute later, looking at your body resting on the complete other side of the bed now.

"nothing."

"you gonna do this right now?"

"do what?"

"just show me what you want."

"no, it's nothing. i'll just ask my other boyfriend for it, it's fine-"

before your sentence is finished, he's already on top of you, squishing your cheeks together, pinning you down. he stares into your eyes, maybe expecting tears, but they don't come. instead you look... satisfied. satisfied with yourself for riling him up like you wanted.

"yeah? other boyfriend?"

"jus' a joke, rafey." your voice comes out all quiet and squeaky since he's holding your face tight. your eyes are big and wide staring up at him. he hates that he's getting hard right now. he lets you go, rolling off and feeling your body sink into his bed.

“get your ass in the car.” it comes out as a statement, not a request. you comply immediately, leaning over to give him a wet, sloppy kiss before stumbling out of bed to grab your shoes. he gets up too, looking for his keys, when you come right back to give him a hug. you press your head against his chest, arms wrapped tight around his neck, eyes fluttering shut, breathing in his scent.

“thank you, rafe,” you murmur against his shirt.

“yeah, yeah, whatever,” he starts, but you don’t miss the way the tops of his ears are flushed with pink. “get the fuckin’ address for that place out-”

he does take you out to dinner, a cute place where he pulls out your chair for you and holds your hand in his on the table. he gets you flowers that match the color of your new dress, which are resting in the backseat of his car now. he kisses your cheek when he helps you put your jacket back on. then he slaps your ass when you’re getting into the passenger seat of his truck, because now it’s his turn to have fun with that dress.

later that night, close to sleep, you paw at his arm and ask for ice cream. the two of you are on the road five minutes later. he turns his head at the red light to watch you lick your cone. then you hold it up to his mouth so he can have some too, smiling and laughing when he takes a big bite.

he's starting to think he likes when you bother him for stuff.

[inklore]

code breaker

premise: there’s always been something there, between the two of you. unspoken and filling in the cracks of those moments where joel is helping you out of a tough situation and your offering up a thank you and sweet smile. if only it didn’t take bloody knuckles and some band-aids to finally crack the code of that something.

pairing: joel miller x (f)reader

word count: 6.2k

warnings: eighteen+ content, unprotected p in v, smut with feelings really, fem receiving oral, friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, mentions of violence and blood, alcohol mention, toxic exes and relationships discussed, dirty talk, biting and love marks mention, lots of banter, au (preoutbreak).

note: i meant for this to be darker but it turned out wayyy more fluffy and i’m actually really happy about it. i hella edited this but it still feels choppy so if it is i’m sorry ya girl has bad eyes lmao. gif made by me so don’t be an ass and steal it tysm <3

There’s words you should be saying right now. Expressing. Spilling from your mouth in a heap of thank you, I appreciate you, what would I do without you always being there for me…

But they just can’t seem to come out. The speech part of your brain—and your heart—aching and prompting you to speak. To show courtesy, your vocal cords refuse to let you get out. Like your mouth has forgotten its purpose, your throat hoarse from screaming Joel’s name in the chaos of thrown fists, people shouting, men trying and failing to haul Joel’s weight off of the bloodied body below it.

The blood on his knuckles pulls your eyes in like a neon sign: caked, dark, and drying the longer the air gets to it. If it hurts Joel doesn’t state it—show it as he grips the steering wheel. You’ve never thrown a punch before, have never seen something like this up close and personal. You excelled at resolving conflicts before they arose. Never let arguments get past the phase of unfair yelling. But you would assume his knuckles must be aching, even if only a dull pounding.

You know for certain your ex's face is.

Good. 

You hadn’t expected him to show up at the bar, your job. Hadn’t expected him to start in on the possessive act—coincidently the local patrons were less than surprised at the all-too-cliché behavior. The town having labeled him as bad news ages ago. Something you had to learn the hard way, when you finally took off those rose colored glasses. 

Joel had been staring at you for the duration of the exchange. Even after your ex left to hang out with a group of his buddies in the corner, his gaze lingered on you.

"You alright?" He asked as he slid his glass towards you, his forearm leaning against the bar. A wordless nod letting you know he wanted another. 

"Yeah, he’s not the first creep I've had to deal with. It's in our DNA as women to deal with the lesser species of the male population."

"Can’t tell if that makes me feel better or worse as a father."

"Oh," you send him a sweet smile. Setting his refilled whiskey in front of him, "no creep dare mess with Sarah. I’ve seen her make jocks cry."

"That’s my girl, taught her well." The grin he wraps around the rim of the glass makes something girlish—and foolish—spark in your stomach. 

Maybe if you had a man like Joel in your life, you would be less likely to keep making the same mistakes with no-good assholes who are good for a week and bad for the rest of the 358 days. 

A girl can dream. 

And she has. Embarrassingly. 

The two of you had continued to talk, your hip pressed against the bar as you cleaned a glass; perhaps you had been smiling and laughing too hard at what Joel was saying because your ex was back and grabbing you from across the bar in an instant.

An action that quickly landed him passed out and bloodied on the bar floor, and your boss trying to make sure Joel hadn’t taught him too good of a lesson to have him see God. 

And while the adrenaline of shock had been bruising your heart against your rib cage, your lungs devoid of air—when Joel had put his non-bloody hand against your arm, calling your name (the white noise of the commotion in the bar creating an impenetrable barrier to your ear drums), a warm thumb under your chin pulling your attention away from the limp body on the floor and up into his eyes—that adrenaline melted and turned into serendipity. 

Gratefulness. 

Those girlish sparks turning into an entire flame that quickly engulfed you as he asked if you were okay. As he comforted you with a barely there touch on your arm and chin, concern in his dark eyes. Concern for what? Frightening you? 

When your gaze is drawn to his knuckles, his body language responds with a grimace. When you see the gashes only bone against bone brings. 

He’s worried he’s upset you. As if he's done something wrong.

When he insists on driving you home you don’t argue. Wouldn’t dream of it even if the circumstances were different. It wouldn't be the first time he drove you home because your beat-up car wouldn't start or because the weather was bad and your anxiety was high.

That’s the thing about Joel. 

He was always there. 

If you needed help, he always seemed to find time. 

Because of this, and the aforementioned beating your toxic ex to a pulp, you shouldn't be allowing the silence to spread between the two of you like strangers. Like something in the air was making everything awkward, like you hadn’t sat in his truck a dozen times before. Like he hasn’t gotten you out of a pinch (minus the blood) before. 

And after he’s pulled into your driveway, engine turned off, the cicadas and crickets filling the silence, it’s Joel who finally speaks. 

Who cracks that barrier you have mentally been trying so hard to climb over. 

"I’m sorry if I," he clears his throat, flexes his fingers against the steering wheel. "If I overstepped." 

And the ridiculousness of him even apologizing has your mouth finally moving into action. "Joel, no, oh my gosh, no." Your palm presses against your chest as you look at him apologetically; you should be the only one saying sorry, thanking him, worshiping at his feet for this. "I should be the one saying that. I should have handled it myself or-"

"Or what?" He looks almost angry, shocked at your words. "He had a hold of you, and no disrespect, but I ain’t ever seen you kill a fly, let alone throw a punch at someone." 

"Hey! I could punch someone." 

"Could and would are two different things." 

"You sayin I couldn’t?" 

"I’m sayin' you wouldn’t." 

"Not tough enough?" 

"Your heart's too big." 

"If you knew how hard I was holding back the urge to prove you wrong by bruising that bicep of yours, Joel Miller, you’d think differently." Your scowl and threat only seem to amuse him because he’s grinning at you. "You’re lucky you’re injured." 

"I’m shaking in my boots." 

"As you should be." The laugh the two of you share makes your cheeks burn.  On the outside, many could and have labeled Joel as a complicated man. A man who takes a lot of nudging and persistence to get to know past that surface-level workaholic grump he sometimes displays. But he’s a man who would lend a hand at the drop of a hat. A man with honor embedded in his very DNA.

There’s a list you’ve kept in the back of your mind that has every bullet point filled out and doodled hearts around the edges of all the reasons Joel is a good man. A man you trust. A man you adore.

"Thank you, Joel." He starts to shake his head, but you stop him with your palm resting on his forearm, "thank you. "You're right, I don't think I even know how to make a proper fist, let alone connect it." Your soft laugh makes the corners of his lips tick up. "You didn’t hesitate to help me. You never do. It means a lot to me, I hope you know that."

He nods, his eyes only on your face. Listening. Taking in every word you’re saying, even if you know he hates the fact that you’re thanking him for this. But he deserves to know how much you appreciate him.

Your hand moves to his wrist, gently yanking it away from his vice-like grip on the wheel. Your index finger runs along a vein at the top of his hand—the one spot the blood didn’t cake on to. "Does it hurt?" 

"No. Between the callouses and the whiskey, it’s nothing more than a cat scratch." 

"You should still get it looked at."

"You’re looking at it, aren’t ya?" 

Your eyes roll. "I’m not a doctor, Joel." 

"All a doctors gonna tell me is to be more careful, hand me a band-aid, and charge me three hundred dollars."

"Well, in that case," you drop his hand and grab for the door. The dry summer air ineffective to your already burning skin from the man whose raising his brows at you, "I got band aids in the house, and I didn’t get to finish my shift, which means you owe me three hundred in tips alone sooo."

"There's barely three hundred people in this town, and you’re tellin me you make that in tips?" 

"Joel, just get in the damn house." You order, slamming the door of his truck and walking up the path to your front door. Smiling when you hear him huff and grumble under his breath as he gets out. 

A hiss—and a scowl so deadly it could scare away even the biggest and badest of grown men—has Joel’s hand twitching in your hold as you run a wet cloth along the tops of his knuckles. The fabric pulling up the caked on flecks of dried blood, the surface of the cuts along the bone already starting the healing process from being clotted with red. 

"I thought you said it didn’t hurt?" You smirk playfully. 

"Whiskey’s wearin' off," he grunts. 

"Or," you dab the cloth in the small cap of saline solution you’ve pulled from your first aid kit under the sink. Bringing it back to his skin to press gently across his cuts, his body tensing. "You’re human after all," his eyes roll. 

"Don’t alert the press." 

"Oh, they’ve already been informed." 

His hand rests on your thigh as you ball up some tissues to dry the area around his knuckles. Enough to keep the band-aids—the only thing he would allow you to use because gauze would just get in the way at work, he informed you when you insisted—from falling off. The heat from his palm burns through your jeans, and it's a blessing in and of itself that you're ignoring how it makes your insides feel; how your body's warmth is no match for how hot he feels. His legs are spread, body slouched against your couch, his knee against yours. A closeness he’s never been before. A casual touch and directness between friends that shouldn’t be making you feel feverish and cheeky. 

When he flexes his fingers a couple times and his fingertips run along the top of your thigh, you find yourself wishing you’d worn a dress to work. A skirt. Anything to have been able to feel him do that against your bare skin. A thought you chide yourself for. A thought you hope isn’t written all over your face when you look over at Joel and he’s staring at you. Eyes darker, expression unreadable and stoic, in that way you can never tell what emotion he’s feeling at that exact moment. He gives nothing away but still sends your stomach plummeting. 

After the band-aids have been stuck and you’ve cleaned up the mess on your coffee table you offer him a drink. 

"Unless you have to get back to Sarah, then I understand."

"She’s with a friend tonight." 

"You gonna tell her how you saved the day, all knight and shining armor style?" You tease as you walk back to the living room with two beers in hand, putting one in Joel’s outstretched one and the other to your lips. Taking a sip as you take your place beside him once again, this time a leg pulled under you as you face him. 

He snorts, "don’t know about all that."

"I’m sure word has already gotten around. Her friends are probably gabbing about how heroic Mr. Miller is, a real prince charming." You laugh when you see his grin. 

"Or," he says, swallowing the sip he's just taken. "She’ll give me that death glare that all teenagers possess after puberty, you know the one?"

"Oh, I know the one. Mine was so fierce my mother banned it from our house."

"It’s deadly."

"Truly."

"I’m sure prince charming will be the last thing connected to my actions. Rage and jackass sound more on the money." 

You frown. Watch as he stares down at the result of the rage he thinks will now be accompanied with his name. Tarnishing it that now people will forget the kindness that was once there, the man whose hardworking now turned into something vile all because of an act of heroism some might find obscene; with how much blood and possible damage it has caused to one mans face, you could understand why such an act would be. 

But to you—and those who knew how horrible your ex had been, how he had deserved every bone crunching punch, every spit of blood and teeth choked on—you knew that what Joel did was right. And maybe, somewhere deep down in those morals against violence everyone gets handed out to them at birth, you knew that Joel could be sitting in a jail cell instead of on your couch if those punches had been any worse. If it had been pure untamed rage like some will say. 

"You’re a good man, Joel. So you potentially hospitalized an asshole, who hasn’t?" Your heart leaps in your chest when he laughs, and you thank God that your joke landed. Thank him that this man with his disheveled hair that's begging to have a hand run through it, work shirt and jeans looking like they’ve seen better days—is in your life. Not every girl has someone willing to bruise another man's face while destroying the hand that's needed to do their job properly.

No one had acted as quick as Joel had. 

Joel Miller was a good man. 

"What did you see in him anyway?" Joel asks, taking another sip of his beer. His gaze is drawn to you from the hole he was burning into his hand. 

And if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know. 

Couldn’t answer that question with the full truth because you didn’t know why you always went for the assholes. The guys who liked to scream instead of talk it out. Who liked to steal money from your wallet for booze or a habit they couldn’t kick. The ones who never remembered your birthday but made sure didn't forget theirs.

Your father had been a great man. Your mother an amazing woman. You couldn’t take the easy way out and blame it on family trauma. 

So you answered with the only viable reason that came to mind. 

"Loneliness makes you ignore all the bad stuff." You take a sip, swallow it down (washing away the pinpricks of potential embarrassment for being so brutally honest with Joel). "It makes you talk yourself out of throwing all their stuff to the curb or burning it in your backyard, because it’s not always bad. Some days are good. Some of them wait to be assholes before the novelty wears off; others wait until you're two years in and they’ve already slept with half the town behind your back. And some will bring you flowers every time they mess up, until one day you look around and realize you don't have any room to put this new vase and there's dried flower petals all over your floors. But hey, at least you’re not lonely, and your house smells really good." 

The smile on your lips fades when you see the look on Joel’s face. See that he’s finding no humor in this story. And the gulp that swallows down the beer in your hands burns your throat the entire way down. Your cheeks are burning, and you have to look away from him. Distract yourself by picking at the label on the bottle. 

"Or maybe it’s as cliché as saying I haven’t found the right one yet." You try to save, nervously chuckling under your breath. In hopes that he forgets everything you’ve just said and clings to this one shitty joke. 

"Look at me."

You do, and you wish you hadn’t. The roughness of his voice makes your stomach swoop and fall like a rollercoaster of emotions you did not prepare yourself for. Hadn’t imagined this being in your future when you’d walked into work. But you’re looking at him. Meeting his eyes. Seeing the stern glower in them before he speaks. 

There’s a million things you imagine him saying. Telling you how much better you are than that, than all of those meaningless assholes. How you deserve better, and you’ll find it someday. Hell, you expect him to scold you with how low his brows are.

What you don’t expect is to feel his lips on yours. His fingers digging into the skin at the back of your neck, his chest inches from your now-heaving one. And it renders you speechless. Still. Your brain not computing with the signals your nerves are giving off right now. 

When he pulls away and looks at you, it takes you several blinks to meet his gaze. The air in your lungs weighing your chest down. You shouldn’t speak. Should allow yourself to get your bearings in order. To catch your breath and sort through everything you’re feeling right now. "Was that a pity kiss?" 

"A what—pity kiss?" 

"Cause of the," you swallow, lick your lips, "of the aforementioned assholes?" 

Joel’s breath fans across your face when he chuckles, "anyone who’d pity kiss you deserves to be added to that list of assholes. And I might be on many asshole lists, but hopefully not on yours." The fingers on your neck skate forward to your cheek, thumb pressed gently along your jawline. His features grow serious again. "I didn’t just knock that asshole out because he had it comin'. And if you haven't noticed, I’m either working or at home with Sarah. Both keepin' me more than busy."

"Too busy to be making house calls for leaky faucets and tarnishing your good name with your fists?" 

"Exactly." 

There's a long pause between you two, as if you're both waiting for the other to say something, anything, to put these unspoken mutual feelings out there.

"Joel, are you saying you coming over to fix my faucet and staying for the occasional beer was you…flirting?" The grin he gives you makes you laugh, "who taught you how to flirt? And please don’t say Tommy."

"No. If I had listened to him we’d be–" he doesn’t finish. Just shakes his head and chuckles under his breath. 

And maybe affirmative action with your hands wasn’t your forte, maybe you couldn’t do what needed to be done when it came in the form of actions. But when it came to words, to saying what you wanted, needed, craved when it was right here in front of you being hinted and teased at, you didn’t hesitate. 

"Maybe you should have listened to Tommy." Your hand mirrors his own, resting on his cheek. You already knew he ran hot from his palm alone. But his cheek feels just as warm as you do, burning right through to your bones. His gaze falls to your parted lips, and a decision is made in the seconds it takes him to return his gaze to yours.

An agreement. 

"C'mere." His lips collide with yours in a heated kiss of nicks of teeth and tongue that taste like whiskey and beer and something that your brain will forever recognize as Joel. A taste you know you’ll be wanting to swallow down again and again. To feel the burn of his beard against your chin until your skin is raw and blotchy from how hard his mouth is devouring yours. An arm wrapped around your waist pulls you into his lap, and your forgotten beers spill and stain the cushions of your couch. "Shit, sorry, let me," Joel starts, but you stop him with your hands on his cheeks. 

"Leave it, just come here." You insist, lips returning to his. 

"Yes, ma’am." His smirk molds to your mouth, wipes away as his tongue runs along your bottom lip to press against yours. A hand on your ass squeezes and presses you forward so you’re grinding against his lap. The seam of your jeans rubs up against the wet patch that's quickly forming on the fabric of your underwear, becoming sticky and clinging to your pussy. Joel's other hand runs down the column of your neck, gripping and pulling you away from his mouth so that his lips can latch onto your sensitive skin. A gasp leaving your lungs, teeth and tongue making you shudder and cling to his shoulders. 

Shoulders you don't let go of until your back hits the mattress and you're both pulling your shirts above your heads, your fingers quickly working the clip of your bra, joining the discarded pile of shirts and shoes on your bedroom floor.

Your heart feels as if it’s beating a hole through your chest, like it’ll fall into Joel’s hands as he leans over your body, knees between your open legs, as his palms run down your chest, between your breasts. Over the globes of them, calloused thumb circling around your nipple. Your breath caught in your throat as you press yourself up into his touch. He’s taking you in, letting his eyes trail every dip, possible mole, scar, and marking on your skin. How your chest heaves in response to his hand. How your breasts fit in his palm. How you gasp and cry into the air when he leans down and swirls his tongue around one of your nipples before sucking it into his mouth, teeth lightly scraping against the sensitive flesh when he pulls off and does the same to the other one. 

His mouth finding its way back to yours again. His hips canting against yours; you can feel his cock digging into your thigh. And when you let your hand skate between the two of you to give him more friction. A dizzying desire to feel more of his heat and need for you burning through your skin and to your core, where you truly crave him. 

The deep grunt that falls from his mouth and onto your waiting tongue sends a shockwave of arousal through your entire body. Being. You want to hear it again, want to pull every noise from this man with your body and mouth until you are both drained and cursing yourselves for not doing this sooner. And you know he wants to do the same. Wants to catalog every pressure point and sensitive bit of your flesh so he can draw this out, can rile you up with a simple touch, scrape of teeth, run of his tongue along your jugular. Until you tell him how badly you can’t stand not having him inside of you. 

He's leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach, his fingers digging into the skin above your jeans, holding your hips still. Preventing you from moving them the way you want to from each press and prickle from his mouth and beard—scalding the nerves of your skin and making your insides whirl. 

"Lift your hips for me, sweetheart." Joel murmurs into your skin as his fingers curl into the waistband of your jeans. Your body feels barren and cool away from his heat as he sits back on his knees, your hips lifting as he frees your legs from their confines. His thumb runs along the lace of your underwear, dipping lower and lower until it’s pressing into that wet spot. A silent, smug praise tugs at the corner of his lopsided smile as his eyes look up to yours.

If your mind was working coherently and not filled with Joel Joel Joel (the way he smells woodsy and rugged, the way something deep and gruff reverberates in his chest when your teeth sink into the skin of his neck, and how he keeps looking at you like a fine art piece hung in the Louvre. Movements quick and gentle as he pulls your underwear down your thighs, making quick work to push your legs apart, fingers digging into the back of your thigh as he lets himself take his time adorning you fully on display for him) there'd be a sassy remark aimed at him.

The callus of his thumb nicks your swollen clit, eliciting a whimper from your lips, your hips following the descent of his finger as it spreads you apart. Trailing a line from your clit to dip into your entrance, gathering your arousal on the pad of his finger, his eyes on yours as he presses it against his tongue. A burning hunger in his eyes as he sucks your wetness from his fingers. 

You're a panting mess by the time Joel positions his head between your legs, arms wrapped behind your thighs, lips, teeth, and tongue trailing up your inner thigh. Your fingers clench the blanket in anticipation, need, and want. The closer his mouth gets to your center, the more you can feel his hot breath moving in, the potential love bites and marks he’s leaving on your inner thigh—all a certain type of torture you don’t think you’re strong enough to put up with right now. 

You lift your head to start begging, to plead with your torturer, but he’s speaking before you can. 

"Wanna take my time, sweetheart." His tongue swirls at the joint of your inner thigh. And just as earlier, the words you mean to get out, to speak from the storm cloud of lust in your head, die in the back of your throat when Joel runs the flat of his tongue up the seam of your pussy. The torturous muscle wraps you around his tongue, following the slowest path to your clit, until the tip of his tongue flicks, making a pattern of strokes and licks, until his lips wrap around the swollen nerve, making you feel delirious. Keeps pulling gasps, moans, and pants of pleasure and ecstasy from your parted mouth; head thrown back on pillows; legs trembling around his head from the blazing fire that grows and grows the more he consumes you.

The more his nose nicks your clit when he fucks you with his tongue, the more his fingers dig into your quivering legs to keep you anchored to the bed and his mouth. 

It feels like hours with how slowly he goes. Keeps you dangling from the ledge with every stroke and suck. Every soothing indent his fingers are leaving in your thigh. Your skin slicked with sweat, knuckles cramped from its grip in the blanket. When your moans go up in pitch he goes slower in that motion, that spot that has you seeing stars. Then he lets your breath come back to you with slow strokes of his tongue at your entrance, giving attention to the other parts of you that you didn’t think could elicit such erotic noises from your lungs. 

Your fingers find their way into those disheveled strands you’ve been waiting a lifetime to thread through. To pull and keep yourself from the feeling of floating away from the intensity of the pleasure. From your orgasm coming closer and closer until you’re panting his name, "Joel, Joel, Joel–fuck," your body shaking, the cries pulled out from this man burning your throat as you finally fall from the ledge and into him; his tongue coated in you, his chin wet with your essence. 

Your body sensitive and heavy as you come down, a sweaty heat making you feel sticky. Joel’s fingers seem to bypass every sensitive part though, as his palm caresses the tops of your thighs, your hips, your curves, the side of your breast. Until he’s reached your burning cheeks, mouth pressing the gentlest of kisses to your lips. The kiss was slow and gentle. Your arousal coats your taste buds when his tongue meets yours.

The kiss feeling more intimate than before, more heady. Knocking you right back on that loop you just got off of. That ache and throb he just sedated starting again in your belly, moving to where your thighs are soaked. 

"You’re overdressed," you murmur against his lips. Joel kisses you again, your open mouths exchanging a breathy chuckle.

"Do you wanna change that?" 

The question holds more than just the surface level of a joke and an answer of "yeah, obviously."  There’s a seriousness to it that makes you pull back from his lips and stare up at him. His thumb traces a soothing pattern into the bottom of your chin, his eyes holding an unspoken reassurance that he’s fine with it ending right here. With him just pleasing you, getting to take you apart and reassemble you with tender touches and a torturous mouth.

It can be all about you.

It is all about you.

You deserve nothing less.

His eyes and soft grin speak unspoken. 

Your nod is slow and reassuring. Your fingertips copy the motions of his thumb against the patches of skin in his damp beard. "Unless you’d rather help me get the stain out of my couch that you caused."

"I caused?" His brows shoot up. 

"It's to be expected when you can't keep your hands off of me," you say before shrieking as he pinches your side. His lips kissing your scowl away—a problem you foresee in the near future.

The kiss lasts for minutes (centuries you wish). Your fingertips never lift from the other's face, moving along jawlines, chins, and cheek bones. His chest comfortably against yours, giving you that heat you missed so dearly. His cock still stiff and hot in his jeans, grinding slowly against your pelvis. 

Is this how it’s supposed to feel? When feelings haven't even been discussed yet, but you just know? Already know what each touch, kiss, and caress holds behind it. Telling a wordless story in the way he had wanted to give you pleasure first—to taste—and take his time making you feel everything his mouth could do. Everything he wanted to do to you.

He wasn’t thinking about himself after the fact. Wasn’t rushing to put you in a position that made it all about his pleasure. Giving you little to no space to cool down, regain your bearings, and have that fire slowly relight and become more tantalizing, as he is right now.

You really did date assholes. 

Your fingers move to his chest, splaying your palm along his body until you’ve reached where he’s hard and pressing against you. Your fingers curl around the outline of him. Stroking, massaging. 

"I want you, Joel." You breathe into his mouth. 

He growls against your lips in something akin to frustration and agony. It makes something inside of you sink, overthink that maybe he doesn’t actually want to push it past the points you’ve already reached. Maybe it’s too much, all too soon, for this new territory of your friendship—even if it already seemed a little too late with the couch confessions and his saliva still coating your center. 

He must see the thoughts volleying in your head because he’s scolding himself under his breath and shaking his head. A soothing touch placed on your skin. "I feel like I’m some horny teenager again, with how bad I want you." His chuckle soothes your heart, "I don’t have-"

And you can't help but laugh at his waving hand towards his pockets and the sentence he's about to finish.

"Jesus, Joel. Bless anyone who's ever thought you were the ungentlemanly type." Here you were worrying about whether or not he wanted you, the proof being clearer than just his dick against your fingers. While the only thing on his mind was protection. 

"Glad I’m amusin’ to you." 

Cupping his cheeks, you pull him back to your lips. "All a girl wants is a decent man to make her laugh, not break her heart, and be able to make her come. And so far you’ve done all three." You let your tongue slip between your mouths and run along his bottom lip, "I’m good if you are." 

I’m clean.

I take a little pill every day because life is chaotic enough and I don’t want any surprises. 

We’re protected.

Now take me already.

The drag of your tongue, the roll of your hips against him, the little whimper you let out when he bites your lip—speaks for you.

It’s all either of you needs to rid Joel of his jeans: hands tangled in belt loops, tugs, pulls, pushing until he’s completely bare in front of you. Your breath hitches when you feel the underside of his cock spreading you and running along your clit slowly and languidly. The heat of him feels nothing compared to your own, the throb and ache of requisite in every roll and drag. 

And when neither of you can stand it anymore, when he’s grunting and you’re begging, he leans up on an elbow, hand wrapped around his cock, lining himself up to your entrance. Your breath leaves your lungs, stomach falling falling down to where he’s pushing into you. Stretching you, filling you until there’s no telling where either of you ends or begins. Attached by that intangible string of pleasure and bliss of only being able to feel each other.

"Fuck," Joel groans. Mouth finding your shoulder, breath hot and heavy. His thrusts start leisurely, taking his time in that way you’re learning he loves to do. Loves to compartmentalize up what you need—more, faster, harder. Going off of the moans panted into his neck, nails digging into his back. 

There's a hand gripped in the pillow beside your head, another at your breast, his mouth connected to your neck, your jaw, your chin, your lips. His hips slamming against your open thighs, thrusts deep, sharp. His cock hitting places that make your back arch, his name strung together with pleas for more. The slapping of skin and wet squelching of bodily fluids between the two of you making a symphony of lewd delight. 

When the hand at your breast hikes up one of your legs, the cry you let out is swallowed by his mouth. The deeper he fucks into you, the more your body shakes, the more you feel him completely consuming you. turning you into someone who will never get enough of this. Of him. Of how good he's making you feel. 

"Sound s’pretty," his tongue brushes against the underside of your chin, teeth nipping at the bone. A trail of him brought down to the shell of your ear. Where his heavy breaths and grunts fill you just as his cock does. Fills you to the brink of pain turned satisfying pleasure, as each stroke brings you closer to a precipice he’s already pushed you from. "Can’t believe I held myself back from you."

"Joel."

"I should knock out every asshole who thought to hurt you, t’not love you the way you deserve. Put you first," he slips his hand between your slick bodies, palm hot against your pelvis as his thumb rubs fast tight circles around your clit. His words getting filthier, ragged. Becoming heaving breaths against your ear as he fucks you faster. As his thumb matches the pace, as you grow closer and closer. Led by his words and pushed over by his cock. 

"That’s it, sweetheart." He’s encourages as you come. As he fucks you through it, as that white-hot heat makes your body contort against his. Cling and squeeze around him. The string of groans and curses, your name mixed with something incoherent but soft and deep, makes your chest swish—bit into your skin as Joel comes not long after. 

And after the two of you have cleaned up enough to call it satisfactory, two new beers condensing on your night stand. Your cheek pressed into his chest as your bodies lay pressed together under your sheet. His chin resting atop your forehead, a soft brush of fingertips at your spine—there’s cheesy grins on your faces, "Tommy’s going to have a heyday."

"He owes me fifty bucks."

There’s faux shock on your face when you turn and lean on your elbow to look at him, "excuse me?"

"He didn't think I'd ever tell ya," Joel shrugs as his hand caresses your shoulder. A fondness in his eyes, "I never do anything for myself." You press a kiss to his thumb, "I think we both deserve something good for once though." 

"I guess I solved the mystery of how to get Joel Miller to be soft," you joke. Nip at the skin of his thumb playfully. 

"I ain’t soft." He grumbles.

"Postcoitous Joel disagrees with that statement," you say. The dramatic roll his eyes do makes you laugh. Your teeth nipping his thumb harder, a bite this time, you shift so you’re on top of him. Sitting up on your knees. "Since this bet is half at my expense.."

"Expense, huh?" His palm grabs a handful of your ass and squeezes, causing you to rock in his lap. His cock already twitching to life again.

"I think we should get you your money's worth," you smirk.

"That's the smartest thing you've said all night," his fingers tangled in your back hair, pulling your mouth down to his in a hard kiss, before you get the chance to at least pretend to be offended.

[marycorcaroli]

sub!luffy x fem!reader

dom!fem!reader with sub!luffy? hmmm..

req ♡ : sub!luffy getting fucked silly by another captain of a rival crew who's also trying to find the one piece, and luffy being all needy and stupid.

mary ♡ : thanks for the request and sorry if it was too long ! 💌 i hope you enjoy everything, i tried really hard ! love luffy too much <3

english is not my first language, i apologize for my mistakes ♡

rules ; masterlist

your hips keep pounding against luffy's thighs, ignoring his pleas to stop, because he can't cum anymore, but can he? his cock is throbbing inside you, and legs are trying to pound into you themselves to fill you all over.

"y/n, please make me feel good, only you can do that, ah-h" luffy tried to say something intelligible, but nothing came out, it felt too good that his brain refused to think. he didn't remember how many times he had cum, three, four or five? you clouded his mind, he could only think about you and your soft cunnie that was so right for his big cock.

you picked up your pace with each passing second, realizing that you were close to orgasm, but it wasn't your plan to show that to luffy, you just needed a map and some information about the one piece, but instead you were bouncing on some strange boy whose cock surprised you as much as he did.

"your body was made for me, wasn't it sweetie? i know just what to do to make you cum like you've never cum before, hehe." your lips descended on luffy's nipples, leaving wet kisses on them and lifting up to his chin "just tell me anything i want to hear and i'll even let you cum inside me, isn't that a gift, darling?"

when you stopped you felt luffy's hands grasp you sharply and his eyes became glassy, he started to cry and tried to make you resume your pace, but you continued to sit and wait for the answer to your question, running your finger over the places where you had left your marks for everyone else, with your claw you left the name of your team, that's how everyone would know whose slut luffy really was.

yours.

he was your whore from the first moment you met him, at the bar, the night you sought out zoro and offered to join you, but he was a son of a bitch and left you to your own devices until a strange guy came along and tried to hit on you.

"you want zoro? join my team and he'll be with you all the time." his cocky grin threw you off balance, but it was time for luffy to get scared as your hand grabbed his cock through his clothes and began to massage it gradually.

"yes, i want zoro, but now i want to destroy you even more." your hot breath on luffy's neck gave him goosebumps, he was lost in space and didn't realize what was going on, but he knew one thing for sure, he wanted you to fuck him in the dirtiest way possible.

as you replayed the memories in your head, you didn't hear the pleading along with luffy's whimpering, he was like a little kid, but wanting your cunnie very badly.

"y/n? p-p..lease i'm.. begging you, s-start moving and i'll tell you everything you want, i'll let you get to the one piece, j-just, fuck it all out of me." his eyes were like puppy dog eyes, it was impossible to refuse them, but you didn't want to, did you? after all, when else would you have just an obedient boy who would do anything for your pussy.

your gentle palm touched his cheek and slowly traced down the whole side of his face, and your eyes stayed on luffy's eyes, you wanted to see how pathetic he'd become in just one night and you were the reason why.

with a quick motion you planted luffy and slowly began to move in time to his hips.

"you look great when you're begging for something, all sweaty and red eyed, i'm going to make you feel good baby, but after this you're not likely to be able to walk or think properly." throwing him back on the pillows and squeezing his fingers tightly, your pace began to quicken again, and luffy's moans grew louder and louder.

it was a delight to your ears, knowing that he was only like that for you, only you see him that way, but or not really....

you didn't notice zoro with his red cock in his hand, he was watching you and jerking off, but he also wants to feel himself inside you or luffy, he hadn't decided yet, but he knew that you and him could destroy luffy with your dirty words and endless orgasms.

[yanderemommabean]

Can we get some yandere Geto going down on a transmasc reader? Pretty please 🙏

((Hi I hope this is ok! Im not too confident but here goes nothing!))

You were so sensitive, head pressing back against the pillow, thighs shaking against your will as you were put on full display. Sugurus calloused fingers made you feel a fluttering pressure as you closed your eyes and try to process anything this gorgeous psycho was saying. 

“You’ve been mine since I laid eyes on you, yet you refuse to let me service you the way you deserve. Tsk tsk tsk”  Geto clicks his tongue in disapproval, dragging his fingers up and down your folds as he wears a rather lascivious smile. “My good boy deserves praise, worship, to be given nothing but devotion, yet you starve us of that. You know I can’t let this continue, don’t you?” 

His voice dropped an octave, deep and angered “You’re slutty hole is quivering for me already. Aching and wanting. Why? Why deny yourself the pleasure we want to give you? It’s angering to think that you’ve been starved of my touch, -my love-  for so long” 

He flicks at your sensitive bud, groaning as he listens to you gasp and struggle to make a sentence. A small bubble of pleasure was forming in his stomach as he drags his thumb up and down your dewy folds, your cute dick begging to be sucked and toyed with as he made you who you were meant to be- 

His and his alone. His to toy with and take apart and to put back together. 

You whimper, barely able to form words as he cruelly begins to flick at your cock again, more wetness dripping from you as Geto presses his face into your wiry hairs and inhales, deep and guttural. Oh how dare you keep this from him? You’ll have to be properly punished once the blood flow is back into his brain and not currently making his cock a precum drooling mess. 

“W-wait no! I-I’m sorry!” You managed to garble out, but it wasn’t really any use, was it? You know Geto is a powerful man, he takes what he wants no questions asked. If he wants to toy with you…

Your body goes taught, his tongue dragging up your skin and swirling around your cock before giving it a gentle suck, making your hips raise and your voice strained. Oh holy fuck his mouth is dangerous- 

He indulges himself, tongue tracing up and down all of your folds as he watches your cock twitch and beg for attention, sliding his wet muscle inside of you as his fingers stroke you up and down, methodical and precise, as if he knew exactly how you liked it. 

Which he should. He’s had his eyes on you for a while. He’s seen you in more ways than you could ever be aware, and he’s been driven nuts by every denial you give to his proposals and offers. 

Well, no more. Geto will have you worshiped and praised, even if he has to chain you down and let the people…have a taste themselves. And who could blame him? How you felt on his tongue, your flavor, a godly nectar he couldn’t get enough of, oh he’s going to drink his fill and then some!

You practically howled, feeling Geto hold your thighs down to get his tongue in deeper, face pressed as close as it could get as his fingers continue to stroke you, hungry and starved like he couldn't get enough. 

You go to try and bite your sleeve to silence yourself, but a harsh bite to your thigh stops you in your tracks, Getos eyes furious and feral as he catches his breath. “If you hide your heavenly melodies from me, I can assure you, you’re going to regret it. Be louder for me. Let me hear you cry as you fall apart”. 

You swallow, eyes watery as Geto continues to lap away at your cock, fingers now curling inside of you and fluttering to hit that specific ridge, causing you to yelp and tense your legs. 

You were helpless, riding the man's face and fingers desperately, unable to push away the instinct to cum, to cover his face in your mess and give the man what he wants. Fruitlessly you yank at his hair, his lips coming to suck on your cock as his fingers crook just right, causing your vision to turn white and your knuckles to clench in his hair. 

The explosion of pleasure has you panting and gasping, words failing to leave your lips as Geto slurps, sucks, and curls his fingers again and again, brutally like he’s punishing you. And in a way, he was. You have turned down every kind offer He’s given you to join his “group”. To be one of the enlightened. No more. He’ll have you with him, and he’s going to ravish you until you simply can’t leave. 

It’s hard to walk when one's legs can’t work, after all. And you’re so sensitive, it should be fun watching you come apart again and again, until you’re crying those pretty tears and can’t push him (or his love) away anymore. 

“Fuck fuck FUCK- “ you cry, that cord in your core finally snapping after a few more rough sucks, his fingers not stopping as you rock against his face and go still, shaking and gasping as the pleasure shoots through you and your eyes can’t help but roll back. 

Oh what a sight to behold. You, sweat covered and disheveled, panting and hiccuping little pleas as Geto continues to toy with you. You aren’t being fair here you know? Being this precious is dangerous with a man like him. 

You wince, a pitiful noise being made as Geto kisses up your stomach, but only moves to hold your legs open again, making sure he left another bite to your other thigh as he feels you quiver and tremble beneath him. “Atta boy. See? That wasn’t so bad now was it?” he asks, his skilled fingers coming to rub up and down your still twitching cock. “Now keep behaving. We have a long night ahead of us, I’d rather it be easy on you”

-Mommabean (I hope you like!)

[hotluncheddie]

Day 1: Accidental subspace

"Open Wide"

Ao3

wc: 1.5k | rated: M | tags: Sub Eddie Munson, pre relationship, oblivious Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington has a crush on Eddie Munson, non-sexual subspace, aftercare

written for @subeddieweek <3

🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷

‘So I guess I’ll say something like.. Hi! I’m Steve, I’m just assisting the dentist to check that you’re flossing correctly, nothing to worry about.’ Steve says from above Eddie, putting on a customer service smile. 

Steve’s facing down at him, floss in hand. ‘Totally routine procedure?’ He asks, pursing his lips. Then he looks directly at Eddie, face smoothing out into something fond. ‘But just relax for me okay?’ He says softly, moving some hair from Eddie’s cheek. 

‘Okay.’ Eddie rasps, clearing his throat. He's still not used to being this close to Steve, even after being roommates for months. Still not used to having Steve’s full attention on him, even after being proper friends for a whole year. 

And now Eddie’s here, and Steve has his gloved fingers in Eddie’s mouth. Eddie never realised how intimate the dentist could be. Not until he’s laying here on Steve’s bed, head on one of Steve’s pillows, bracketed by Steve’s thighs so he can lean over Eddie. Lean over and put his gloved fingers in Eddie’s mouth. 

(28 hours earlier.) 

‘Eddie please.’ Steve whines, sliding his torso across the table between them. Brandishing his clasped hands and burying his head in his elbows. 

It’s too early for this. Eddie hasn’t even gotten half way through his coffee and Steve is sitting here asking him things. 

Asking him things when it’s so early Steve hasn’t even changed out of his glasses yet. 

How is Eddie supposed to think in these conditions? 

‘Huh?’ Eddie asks, because, what? 

‘I have to practice and the only reason they agreed to interview me for this is job is because I have experience with kids. I’lI need to show them my bedside manner is good dude.’ Steve explains, rapid, like he’s said it before. 

Eddie’s eyes narrow, eyebrows furrowing, he.. huh? ‘What’s that got to do with me Stevie?’ He asks, still totally lost and he can see down the front of Steve’s old sleep shirt.The chest hair is not helping him process. 

Steve huffs, strands of hair on his forehead jumping. ‘I need to pretend you're a patent, floss your teeth and stuff. Just to get a feel for what they might get me to do when I go in.’ 

‘… Okay.’ Eddie says, still not fully sure what’s going on but, if it’ll help Steve, well, he honestly thinks he’d do pretty much anything. 

‘Thank you thank you thank you thank you!’ Steve cheers, clapping Eddie on both shoulders and squeezing. Still leaning across the table. Eddie can see the freckles on Steve’s nose. ‘I’m buying you dinner! First dental assistant check I get, I’m taking. You. Out. Munson!’ Steve says, smile sunny and blinding and Eddie has no idea what his face is doing right now. But, if Steve keeps looking at him like that Eddie thinks he could cry. It’s early, and Steve is too pretty for his fragile constitution. 

‘Good, that’s good. Now I’m going to get the teeth at the back okay?’ Steve asks, waiting for Eddie’s small nod. ‘Feel how I’m flossing both sides of the gum too? That’s how you need to do it at home, get rid of all the germs.’ And Eddie does, sort of, he feels something happening in the back of his mouth. Steve’s knuckle against his teeth, forcing them that little bit wider. Eddie’s not sure at what point his eyes slip closed but it’s not until Steve’s retracted his hand and is lightly dabbing Eddie’s chin with a tissue, that he opens them again.They feel so much heavier than before. 

‘Sleepy?’ Steve murmurs, smiling down at him. 

Eddie swallows and blinks slowly, brain not really processing what Steve just asked. He clears his throat. Is he tired? He slept pretty well last night so, not really. He does feel relaxed though. 

Eddie blinks again, looking up at Steve. His bed backs onto the rooms little window and Steve refuses to get proper curtains for them. Instead keeping the light white lacy ones that were left from the elderly couple who lived here before. They let so much light through it would send Eddie insane, but the soft sort of shimmer that glows across Steve’s cheek and shoulders now, it’s pretty. 

Steve really is so pretty. Eddie sighs, shifts deeper into the beds soft sheets. A really pretty guy, person. 

Eddie knows this already, obviously. But, it feels different. Eddie thinks he’d crawl on all fours for Steve right now without even batting an eye. 

Its kind of always been like that for him and pretty people though, ever willing to do anything for a bit of attention. But it’s never felt like this, never felt quite this intense. 

Steve ask Eddie to open wide again, getting the other side of his teeth with the floss. Then he gently probes at each tooth’s gum with his finger. Eddie watches the curve of Steve’s eyebrow as he focuses. Eyelids so slow to blink and brain a soupy sort of fog, no thoughts up there. Just the nice feeling of his mouth being played with, Steve doing as he pleases. 

The soupy floaty feeling travels down to his fingers a toes, stirs in his gut. Eddie feels like he’s getting his whole body massaged just through his teeth. Almost like he’s in a bath, or like there’s a mouth on his cock. 

He makes a noise in his throat, it could honestly be a moan, but Steve’s fingers are in the way. That makes Eddie squirm. Steve’s fingers are in his mouth. 

‘Almost done, you’re doing so well.’ Steve says gently. 

Eddie really likes being here with Steve, letting him touch. 

‘Close.’ Steve instructs finally, fingers pressed lightly into the hinge of Eddie’s jaw. ‘Good. You have nice teeth Ed.’ He murmurs. 

Eddie hums happily, a little giggle bubbling out of him. He grins, showing Steve his teeth again, watching his eyebrows lift slightly. But his fingertips keep tracing Eddies jaw, following the curve of it, making goosebumps appear on Eddie’s arms. 

‘M’gonna go get you some water okay? And a snack. You okay waiting here for me, for just a sec?’ Steve asks softly, now tracing the shape of Eddie’s lips. 

Eddie thinks it’s okay, Steve’s bed has always been the most comfortable. He has the nicest sheets. Eddie nods. 

Steve slides his legs out from under the pillow, padding out of the room, taking off his gloves and Eddie hears the fridge open. 

Its colder without Steve here. Weird. He misses Steve. Wants him to come back. Maybe Eddie does feel kinda of strange actually, he wants Steve back touching his jaw. He feels so cold, like his chest is caving in.

‘Steve?’ He calls trying to sit up but his body isn’t cooperating. His mind not able to think through the fuzz. His hands trembling a little. 

Steve comes back in, holding water and a granola bar. ‘Hey, hey Eddie I’m here. You’re okay.’ And sits down close, wrapping Eddie up in his arms. 

‘Feel weird.’ Eddie mumbles, gripped Steve’s shoulders tight and fisting his soft t-shirt. 

‘S’okay, let’s go sit on the couch yeah? Watch a movie.’ Steve says gently, rocking Eddie a little. He should maybe be embarrassed but it feels so much better to have Steve close that he doesn’t care. Doesn’t want Steve to go far again. 

Eddie nods and stands up, making sure to keep hold of Steve’s arm, hugging it close as he leads them into the living room and onto their worn sofa. 

Steve lays down first and pulls Eddie by their still linked fingers to settle between his thighs, Eddie’s face in Steve’s neck until he’s ready to come out. Making him take sips of water every few minutes, sharing bites of granola bar and stroking Eddie’s hair. 

Eddie drifts, almost to sleep, he’s so comfortable and calm, wrapped up in Steve. The sound of baseball coming softly from the tv. 

-

‘Hey! I’m home!’ Robin shouts from the front door, dropping her stuff and shuffling through. She stops dead once she sees them cuddles up on the couch. Eddie between Steve and the sofa, head now resting on his chest so he can see the tv too. Steve is channel hopping but stops to look at her. Eddie’s not really sure what to do, he definitely doesn’t want to move but, she’s looking at them really weird. 

But Robin is focused on Steve, eyebrows moving, not talking. Eddie edges around to see Steve doing the same thing. 

‘Happy for you.’ She finally huffs, stomping off to the kitchen. But Eddie hears her mumbling under her breath. 

‘Only Steve fucking Harrington could get a guy with a dentist shtick, Jesus christ.’ 

‘Huh?’ Eddie asks Steve, really not sure what’s going on. 

‘Nothin’ we’ll talk about it tomorrow, when you’re less foggy.’ Steve says softly, kissing Eddie on the forehead and pulling him back into his chest. 

Tomorrow. Yeah, that sounds good, Eddie really doesn’t want to move. 

🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷

Tag List: @pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @scoops-aboy86 @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor @marvel-ous-m

[wittlesissyb4by]

Why do we keep letting these pigs get off scott-free? They think they can come in, play with our hearts and our heads, then cut and run and do the same to some other poor girl! Hell, sometimes they’re doing it to multiple women at the same time!

Well, I say “no more”! No longer will we let these immature men run around and take advantage of women! It’s time we take a stand! Starting with little Benjamin here.

Benny tried to slip a little something in my drink at the club last week and thought I wouldn’t notice. Little did he know, I’d already been watching him, planning a little bit of payback after what he did to my friend Lauren. She cried for weeks over this guy.

So when Benny wasn’t looking, I did the ‘ole switcheroo, he was out like a light 2 hours later.

Ohh you should have seen Benny’s face when he woke up for the first time! His hands and feet were chained to his new crib, and he kicked his little legs when he saw (or felt) what he had on. Every flail of his body only made his fresh new diaper crinkle louder and louder. He whined and cried and screamed as much as his gag would allow. But Benny had no idea that was just the beginning.

He thought, he really thought he wasn’t going to have to use his diaper, that it was just there for funsies. The way he moaned and groaned as he clenched and tucked his legs, trying anything he could to quell the painful throbbing coming from his very full bladder. I told him to save himself the torment, that all he was doing was delaying the inevitable, but still he resisted. To his credit, he made it a whole ‘nother thirty minutes before he sighed in relief and flooded his diaper for the very first time. His whimpers and whines after were pathetically adorable.

He drank the bottle out of desperation. He was obviously starving, and I made it clear he would not get out of his (now *very* wet) diaper until he finished the whole thing. I wonder if he could taste the laxatives and hormones mixed within? No matter, he certainly seemed to notice the effects about an hour later when he started fussing and complaining about the cramps.

“Just get over it,” I spat back at him, something I’ve heard way too many men say when they learn a woman is on her period, “just don’t be such a bitch!”

When I tell you: the man cried. Like, full-on bawled like a baybee when he couldn’t hold it anymore and started shitting all over himself in that diaper. He continued to cry for the next 3 hours when I refused to change him. I made him sit and wallow in his own filth while he thought about his life choices.

Reluctantly, his diaper was eventually changed, but so was his outfit. His eyes were wide as saucers when i held up the pink onesie and frilly skirt, but they closed soon after once the drugs kicked in. He woke up halfway through me doing his make-up, and seemed less than thrilled when the wig was put on.

Now, one week later, he’s mostly silent in his crib. I’m not sure if it’s the cocktail of hormones in his system messing with his brain, or he has finally accepted that this isn’t all a dream, that this isn’t going to stop, and this is his new life now. Any attempts to run will just lead to the thousands of pictures I have of him ending up all across the internet. The livestreams of him pooping his pampers notwithstanding. He’s quite docile now. He knows to keep that pacifier in his mouth otherwise it will delay his diaper change by several hours. It only took him a few rashes to learn to comply.

Lauren is now on her way over to get a look at the so-called “Man” that broke her heart. I highly doubt she’ll feel any sort of anguish now. Knowing her, she’ll have even more fun with him than I have.

So this is a call to all women, it is high time we put these deadbeat little fuck bois in their place. Take back what is ours. Let’s fight the patriarchy and turn it into a true Matriarchy, one pathetic little pervert at a time!

[addicted-to-dc]

Hobie Brown/Spider-Man X FemmeFatale!Reader - Red Lipstick (Part 2)

Bruh this brain rot is surprisingly motivating. I may have gotten too carried away with this one? Idk, it’s nearly 1,300 words of pure smut. I don’t want to overwhelm myself with another series, so this just might be a two-parter??

Contents will be under the ‘keep reading’.

Contents: Smmuutttt (18+), face riding, p in the v (do not add to the population pls), and more. Flirts and quips, the usual stuff that comes with Spider People. I really need to write femme fatales more often.

Fuck, he knows he’s in heaven right now with you hovering over him. You both couldn’t reach your apartment fast enough, barely able to crawl through the windows before clothes were torn, tossed, and forgotten all over your bedroom. 

Your constant teasing has him all worked up and he loves it. The smile on your face grows even larger when you finish applying the new lipstick to his lips. The metallic red glitters with the shifting light, and you can’t help but steal it off of his lips. The color smears all over both of your faces, hands exploring each others’ bodies. You pull back, dragging your nails across his chest, “How does it look, Tiger?”

Hobie fucking moans at the nickname, the shimmering red on your lips driving him absolutely mad. Your smile widens, more akin to the Cheshire Cat as you lean down close, “You like that one, don’t you?”

His hips buck into yours, telling you everything you needed. Finally lowering your hips down, Hobie’s nails dig into you as you slowly grind down on him. “Fucking love it, Love. God, you’re a goddess.”

Smiling, you lean down, pecking him on the lips before leaning back, “You know how to make a girl blush.”

“I can do more than make a girl blush, Sweetheart,” Hobie chuckles, his fingers fiddling with your lingerie. “Get up here, let me see her.”

Biting your lip, he tears your bottoms off of you and pushes you upwards. Your muscles twitch as your thighs rest with his face in between them. Those beautiful piercings glisten as his hands massage your legs. “You’re pure sin.”

Hobie grins, his grip urging you to sit down, “Take your throne, my Queen.”

Gasping, you let him pull you down. As soon as his mouth is on you a moan erupts from your lungs, your hips rolling along with his tongue. “Fuck! I thought you hated m-monarchies.”

You can feel him smile against you at the comment. He only responds with his tongue sliding into you, stealing your very breath from your lungs. Hobie’s everywhere as he uses your body against you, your emotional barriers crumbling as you reach down to hold one of his hands. He squeezes your hand tightly, doubling his efforts that has you curling downward. 

“Cluh- close,” you moan, accidentally snapping your headboard in two as you come all over his tongue. 

Hobie pulls you even closer, tearing a scream out of you as he quickly builds you to a second orgasm. The metal crumples under your hand without resistance. His free hand slides underneath yours, weaving his fingers into yours before pulling. Hobie holds both your hands back, taking over your pace as your hips buck against him wildly. 

“Fuck, Tiger, just like that,” you cry out, looking down.

You moan at the sight of him, the red lipstick somehow still on his lips as he wraps them around your clit. Then you’re gone. Your throat vibrates, but you can’t hear any of the noises he pulls out of you. All you can see is static as you come down, your eyes refusing your commands to open them.

Breathing heavily, you yell when he pulls both your bodies downwards, you chest meeting the bed. He kisses your clit, making your hips lift with a hiss. A chuckle escapes his mouth, the vibrations go right to your core.

He flips the two of you. Your back meets the bed with a thud, his hands lightly drift across your skin as you calm your breathing down. A shiver crawls up your spine as his fingers dance across your stomach. Hobie’s eyes meet yours as his lips replace his fingers. “My turn to tease.”

“You’ve done that enough walking through HQ,” you whisper, exhaling loudly as his hands tear your bra off. “Fucking mesmerizing.”

Hobie flings it behind him, leaning in you kiss you again. It’s sloppy, but you can’t help but slip your tongue in. He bites it, chuckling when your tongue delves in even further. As soon as his eyes open he groans, seeing the red smeared all over you forever imprinted in his mind.

“God, gotta feel you ‘round me,” he mutters.

He feels your fingers unbutton his jeans and oh so slowly drag his zipper down. You push his pants down, finally freeing him from those clothes. He pulls them off and crawls on top of you. Just as he leans close, he flips you both over again. Hobie smiles at the sight of you above him, painted red like the goddess you are. The color stands out beautifully against the blacks, grays, and whites that make up your figure. Gwen’s right, he’s so fucking whipped. 

“You like your women on top?” you ask, lifting your hips up as you grasp him. “Come on, Tiger, you can tell me.”

He hisses as you slowly sink down on him, leaning close as you squeeze the life out of him, “Never with a woman like you.”

You lift your hips back up, his tip barely inside you as you flash that fucking addicting smile, “Honey, there isn’t another woman like me.”

As soon as the words come out of your mouth you sink all the way down. A weak ‘fuck’ escapes from his mouth, his hands shooting out to grasp your hips. You both work in tandem, him hitting all the right spots to make you see stars as you fuck him into oblivion. 

You both watch each other, taking note of every touch and movement that makes the other go wild. It’s a game, one that you were going to win. Your gray eyes stare into his, whispering sweet nothings as he gets closer and closer to falling over the edge. Biting your lip, you watch as he writhes underneath you. “Come on, Tiger, let go.”

Your words set him off. His hips spasm as he comes, filling you whole as you continue to ride him. Stubbornness fuels you, needing to overstimulate him just like he did to you. Hobie’s moans fill the air as he scrambles to get you to stop, but you just grab his hands and press them into your chest. He squeezes the soft flesh, making your hips stutter slightly. “Give it to me again, Sugar. I know you got it in you.”

Your moans join together as you both come again, limbs refusing to move until the pleasure is too much to bear. You remain still, still seated on him when you shoot a web to the nightstand. A case of cigarettes appear in your hand seconds after. You place a hand-rolled one into your mouth, lighting it before taking a long drag from it. The smoke escapes from your nose, the mischievous glint in your eye returning tenfold. You flick the cigarette around in your mouth, offering it to him. 

He leans up and takes it, his lips happily wrapping around the red-stained rim, “You got anymore tricks for me?”

Smoke escapes from his mouth, his eyes flashing with recognition, “Is this what I think it is?”

“The sweetest tobacco and Mary Jane, Sugar, that’s what it is,” you say, taking a hit when he offers the cigarette.

He holds onto it, watching as your lips leave another layer of red on it, “You’re a fucking dream, that’s what you are.”

Hobie doesn’t remember where he stole the lipstick from, but he’s regularly visiting it from now on. That’s a fucking promise.

[ghost-bxrd]

Protective fae!Dick, please? This is my favorite AU, I can't get enough of your writing

That’s so sweet 🥺💚

Okay at this point I can admit I have thing for (over)protective characters so I’m all too happy to oblige lol.

Anyway, protective fae!Dick:

He doesn’t notice he’s being overprotective most of the time. When the people close to him mention a minor inconvenience his first instinct is to remove that inconvenience from the equation altogether. It’s a steep learning curve, because when Bruce first took him in he didn’t realize he’d have to stop Dick from killing half the Rogue gallery in the span of a few months. “But they hurt you,” he’d pout, “and it wouldn’t be really killing, anyway. I’m just… recycling them.” “…” “I could let them keep their consciousness—“ “N O”

Friends, while cherished, do not get to claim the same level of protectiveness. Dick would always come to their aid, of course, but for each request for help he keeps a tally mark in his head; accumulating favors. Only his family are exempt from this.

While there have been a couple close calls over the years, none will ever compare to the time he came back from a mission to find a member of his family gone. To this day Dick refuses to talk about the first couple weeks after he found out. And around the same time each year every plant and tree seems to wither and rot for a while before suddenly bursting back into full bloom. Jason has to return to the manor for this time each year, or Dick will absolutely track him down and drag him back himself. Neither he nor the manor lets him leave until Dick is back to his cheerfully self.

Any close calls with the family after that automatically result in several weeks of house arrest for the respective family member, courtesy of carnivorous deer and some over enthusiastic tree roots that enforce this rule with absolute prejudice.

If someone tries to kill a member of the family while Dick patrols with them/is close by, the only thing the batfam can do is damage control. Because while they can usually stop him from killing the perpetrator, it probably isn’t very ethical to allow a borderline eldritch being to cry their brains with his strange magic either.

Alrighty that’s all I’ve got for now <3

[finniestoncrane]

Gotta be honest with you, I need to hear every single Digger headcanon you have because they 2 you've shared are just so good.

General Headcanons

KTJL!Boomer Headcanons yippee!!! woohoo!!! someone wants to listen to my bullshit!! i am so happy to write down more of my headcanons by the way, but for anyone wanting any make sure to let me know what you want the 💙 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: mentions of nsfw things, it's fuckin boomer so of course, there's a whole load of nsfw headcanons and i mention piss because duh

General Headcanons

this is a sort of universal belief i suppose but i do think he lives in his van and i will live and die by my faith. he likes having everything he needs with him at all times. he will spout some bullshit rhetoric about living a "buddhist" existence with few material goods. and he's half right in that he has two pairs of underwear, and a collection of empty (or maybe not completely empty) beer cans rattling around back there

he's passed out twice while getting tattoos and he will yell and scream and argue that it was because his blood sugar was super low and not because he's a total wuss

he smells amazing. not like... good, don't get me wrong i don't think he smells nice. BUT he smells fuckin great. he has a natural deep musk that just hits the receptors nicely, the kind of smell that's laden with all the right pheromones to engage your caveman brain and have you swooning over him

bad habits (which i count as a bonus tbh) include: picking things: ears, skin, nose, anything. drinking to excess and then never learning a single lesson. masking all of his emotions until he's certain you won't make fun of him for having feelings. pretending to hate people that he loves because he can't be seen getting hurt. leaving his clothes lying around and relying on the smell test to get him through the process of getting dressed. kissing you in the morning before he has brushed his teeth. having no concept of personal space: he will steal blankets, he will curl around you in bed, he will sit too close to you on the sofa, he will hang off your body, he will hug you from behind and not let go, he will stand beside you all the time. refusing to take things seriously until he really has no other option. bad temper, and then defusing the situation by kicking something

yes, he has great tits and strong arms, but in my heart of hearts i know his stomach is not flat and in my head he has the sweetest lil beer gut to ever exist. it gets worse once he's just finished eating or drinking, and he cradles it and makes jokes about it being a girl or a boy. and while they might not have added it into the game, they did add in his sweet lovehandles on those hips, and he likes being grabbed by them and pulled into a hug. reminds him that when he's no longer big buff boomer, you'll still be super into his hot body

i think he's 45 years old fuck you. i think youngest he's 40, there's no way he's near me in age. we can consider sun damage to an extent but he has wrinkles, he's a dad, he's got big ol bags under his eyes and a slightly receding hairline

he's competitive, but not in an aggressive way, more in an annoying way. like you play a board game with him, and he'll do everything in his power to distract you, or use the rules against you. and if he loses, he doesn't go in a big strop, maybe a tiny huff with a few whines. who can refuse him a pity win when he's looking up at you all sad with those big green eyes and batting those silly eyelashes?

if there is something about you that he can mercilessly tease you for (without making you cry) he will harp on about it constantly. it's his way of showing that he's comfortable around you, enough that he can make you want to punch him in the throat. he can give but he can't take though, so remember that before you point out that he is in fact ginger, or that his freckles make him look so cutie-patootie, or that his tattoos are kinda dumb

you have to laugh at his jokes and puns, it's a requirement and he'd be tempted to make you sign a contract saying you will adhere to this rule. it gives him a boost, makes him feel proud. plus he is genuinely very funny, and the dorky nature behind his silly jokes is so endearing

Relationship Headcanons

when he falls for someone, he falls first and he falls hard. he also falls pretty easily, and he's no stranger to heartbreak, but he has his terrible coping methods to keep him going

he finds it easy to find something about everyone that he likes, because he's just prone to liking people. he thinks everything and anything is sexy, and he can find your good traits like a pig sniffing out truffles

he regularly brings home gifts for his partner, stolen or otherwise. no one needs to know how you aquired such an expensive piece of jewellery or that really nice original looking bit of art. maybe you just happen to save a lot of money by living in the back of his van with him!!

gifts are just one of the ways he is surprisingly thoughtful for a boy with no thoughts behind his eyes! dates are another thing he's fuckin stellar at!! wherever you're going and whatever you're doing you are guaranteed to have fun, that's just how he is. he makes everything tolerable, and he can turn a shit day into a great one

he's desperate for friendship, far more than he is for anything romantic or sexual, although if the two could go hand in hand that'd be an ideal scenario. he might claim to be chill and looking for a quick root, but he's far more interested in finding a partner who can be his buddy as well as his lover

there's never going to be a moment when he's not touching his partner by the way, like that is just something you are going to have to put up with

hand on your shoulder, hand in your hand, hand on your waist, hand on your thigh, hand on your back, hands around you as he hugs you from behind, hands around you as he hugs you from the front, hands around you as he hugs you from the side, hand on your butt, hand on your chest, hand on your stomach, hand on your cheek. the man has borderline separation anxiety

holding hands is his favourite though, especially when paired with his habit of loudly announcing your status to anyone within earshot. "oh this is my partner!" "yeah i'm their boyfriend!" "i'm fucking that beautiful bit of arse over there, thanks for asking!" like thank you, digger

he's surprisingly emotional, and surprisingly open once you get past his protective exterior layer. he's still always joking around and trying not to take things seriously, but the minute you or he needs some serious feeling time he is down for it

i don't think he would ever choose a sexuality. personally, i feel like he's bisexual or pansexual, but digger would say he's just sexual. he'll go for anything with a pulse who was happy to see him. there's a bit of digger for anyone (or anything...)

he'd be quick to take things to the next level with a partner he really loved. like he comes to pick you up one day in the boomer-van and he's like "tah-dah" and in the bacl there's a plastic storage box duct taped to the wall with your name written on it. this is how he would ask you to move in with him. you might need to get rid of a lot of your posessions but he wouldn't be adverse to you cleaning up the van or making it your own though!! i bet he'd love to have fairylights on the ceiling and some rugs on the floor

NSFW Headcanons

he has a piss kink. i know that is not a thing for most people, but i have evidence backing this up. it's barely a headcanon at this point, it's just straight up fuckin canonical fact lmao!! anyway i don't think it's a goes both ways thing most of the time. he likes to be the one pissing, it's where he refuses to be a switch and will only be the dominant one, usually

speaking of being the dominant one, it's what he's most comfortable with since he's a loud, brash, bold and heroic villainous boy, but he really doesn't mind switching things up. he can be a gentle dom, a bratty sub, and any combination in between. really, he is up for literally any activity or kink or fetish or position you can throw at him

he gets very vocal during sex. he spouts all kind of filth at you, confirming what he's doing, what he wants to do, and what he's going to do to you. his preferred terms are surprisingly gentle though, calling you kitten or pup, princess or prince, love, babe, baby. a combination of them all. aside from that, he is loud. volume is not something he can control when he's deep in the heat of the moment and he is the literal definition of animalistic. he growls while he fucks you, and he howls when he cums, and he has referred to himself as a dingo before...

of course, if you're getting particualrly nasty, or he's in a far more feral mood, he'll be growling low into your ear, calling you a dirty, nasty little cunt while he grabs your body and keeps you close

he's into any kink, sort of believing in trying anything once (or twice... or three times...) but there's a few he just LOVES. ones that if you mention them, you run the risk of having him cumming in his pants or rutting up against your leg like a desperate, badly behaved puppy

obviously, previously mentioned piss kink, but specifically if it involves some level of servitude or worship. like you on your knees holding his cock for him while he goes to the toilet, you offering to lick him clean, or letting him piss on you because you're so beneath him and he's yours to mark and claim. begging for a taste of him or pleading for him to use you gets him going too when you combine it with this

body worship or worship in general gets him going too. he's so desperate to be loved and wanted and adored and needed, so having someone beg for him, tell him they want him, they need his cock, his fingers, his hands, his saliva, his drool, his cum, anything he's willing to give them. top that off by calling him captain and he'll melt into a sticky little puddle

he's also way behind on comfort, so a little bit of gentle love mixed with kink is a great way to help him relax. feed him a tit or a hard cock, let him suck until he's soothed himself. hold him on your lap and stroke his hair while you tell him he's amazing, and so good at everything he does

cowboy digger is reporting for duty at the breeding ranch! get you some horns, a teeny tiny cowprint outfit, a tail and a bell and he'll either milk you dry until you're crying from overstimulation, or he'll ride you until he's pumped every last bit of cum into you, making sure you're ready for him to be the daddy

he'll fuck with the hat on. he's a socks on kinda guy too. he just gets way too into it way too quickly and forgets anything else but rutting and grunting

this could have been soft, if it wasn't george, but he loves when you fall asleep on him, like your head resting on his chest or his stomach or his lap or his shoulder. he'll be sweet, of course, and place a little kiss on the top of your head. but then he will try and sneak a look down your top or at your ass or to see if you have a visible bulge he can ogle

[multifan2022]

*Prewarning.. this is my first attempt at writing again.. I haven't touched my laptop since January so bare with me lol*

You could feel the warm wetness running down the side of your neck as you sat pinned at a weird angle. There was a sharp and hot pain every time you took a breath as you tried to remember where you were. What was the last thing you did? You couldn't remember getting in the bronco. Didnt remember driving away from the house. All you could remember was fighting with Bradley. 

“Why would you say that to him Brad?! You know how devastated he was when Goose died! You're not the only person that hurt Rooster! FUCK!” You slammed your hands down onto the counter, having a hard time even looking at your husband. While you and your dad were not close, you never blamed him for what happened with Goose. Sure you blamed him for the short break up between you and Bradley as young adults but clearly that was in the past. All you wanted now was for them to figure it out, you wanted to be a family, have a family. But now as Bradley stood here looking at you the same way he looks at Mav.. You were questioning things..

You hadn't even noticed that you called him Rooster.. A thing that just started after the move back to Fightertown. Because you had always known Bradley, he wasn't Rooster too you.. But every night when he came home, a little more mad, and a little more distant, your Bradley was being replaced by Rooster. The aviator who was the best of the best, who was part of the 1%. But was also the aviator who had taken the anger and trauma Bradley had and used it to mold himself. 

“No one to mourn you when you burn in… Really Bradley, because last time I checked, I am the one and only emergency contact for BOTH OF YOU!”

That if your rattled brain could remember correctly was the spark that lit the match. You and Bradley did not fight often, but when you did it was explosive. The kind of fights that left people in tears, the kind that led to words that should've been left unspoken. One of you always ended up on the couch for a few hours, normally both in tears until one of you couldnt take it anymore. Tonight was the first night that one of you actually left. 

You didn't even know which part it was that pushed Bradley over the edge. Was it you telling him you couldn't have kids with him if he couldn't get his anger under better control? That you refused to keep Mavs grandkids from him one day over some pulled papers? Was it when you said that you had sacrificed enough to be with him, that you had to draw the line? Was it when you told him Goose and Carol would be disappointed in how he treated Mav today? 

No matter what it was, the words he spoke as he left stung enough to leave you standing in the same spot for at least 30 minutes after he left. When you blinked and everything caught up with you, you realized the quietness of the house was turning your stomach. Without thinking you slipped shoes on and grabbed your keys. Originally you wanted to just drive your jeep around, clear your head since Bradley had just taken the doors and top off. But when you noticed the bronco still in the drive you couldn't resist being just a little close to Bradley. 

That's how two hours later you ended up driving down some road next to some beach. Honestly at this point you weren't even sure where you were. All you could think about was how hard you were crying as Tim McGraw and Tswift came on. Highway don't care, it seemed poetic, if a song was ever written for the aftermath of this fight, it was this one. When it ended, you had decided it was past time to call Bradley, to find out where he was and at least get you both home. Unfortunately you accidentally knocked your phone out of the old cup holder and onto the passenger floor. One last attempt to save it before it flew out the open door was made. 

You should've let it fly out the door. Because as you stretched across the cab, a car full of intoxicated teenagers came down the middle of the road. You could've sworn you heard someone yell your name as you sat straight up, jerking the wheel way too harshly in your panic to try and miss them. You desperately tried to keep control of the bronco as you skid sideways, unable to get control before it flipped down the side of the bank. 

That's where you were now, wondering how much more Bradley would hate you for crashing his late fathers baby. In your concussed mind, this would be the feather that shattered your relationship. The nail in the proverbial coffin. Part of you registered how long you had been hanging sideways in your seat, the truck having stopped on the passenger side after flipping a few times. You registered that you were struggling to breathe, and definitely were bleeding. You didn't hear any sirens, knew that the teens had not stopped. But thankfully, as one Amelia Benjamin, was dropped off at home her conscience overran her fear of being in trouble. 

So she told her mother and her boyfriend how she had been out drinking. How there had been a vehicle, one she swore she knew, that ended up off the road and she couldn't get anyone to stop. The two adults reassured her that while she was in trouble, she made a good choice in telling them. That maybe she saved someone's life. Little did they know how closely this would hit their little family. 

~~

Jake was over Bradley, the new found friendship they had was great. But it was two in the morning, and Jake honestly just didn't get it. He couldn't imagine having a lifelong love. A childhood best friend turned into the love of his life. So he couldn't wrap his brain around why Rooster was sitting in his kitchen right now. He also couldn't figure out who Rooster was mad at, himself or you? He told him as much and was surprised and worried when big brown eyes lifted from the floor with tears in them. 

“Myself, I think.” Roosters voice croaked “Because she's right ya know.. How can I ask her to give me a family when I cant even be nice to her dad? You know I didn't even ask for his blessing? Not because I thought he would say no, but because I thought it would be a slap in the face to him.. I've always used her as a way to hurt him..” Rooster broke off in a sob. It hurt Hangman's heart to see how hard of a time his wingman was having. But if he knew you, and he felt like he did, you were going through it worse. 

Taking a deep breath he pushed off his counter, annoyed that he was pulling his boots on with his impromptu sweat pants and grabbing his truck keys. Roosters watery eyes followed him before he jumped from his stool, understanding what was happening. When the two were finally in the truck Jake spoke, “Look Bradshaw, I know we aren't great friends or whatever, but I'm gonna tell you something that's gonna suck to hear.” Without looking he clicked the radio off before he continued. “Y/n.. She's a once in a lifetime kinda woman. The kind that will put up with just about anything to make things work. But once she draws a line in the sand, its there forever. Not just for you, but for the next guy too.” 

The hair on Rooster's arms stood on end, not only because of Jakes words but he swore he heard another male voice whisper his name. “What do you mean.. The next guy..” Jake scoffed at how soft and confused Rooster's words were. “My man.. Do you think she will stick around if the one thing she asks of you, is something you refuse to do? She has already given up her father walking her down the aisle.. He wasn't even at the wedding right? She's moved all over to be with you. The only long term roots she has are from when she lived with you as a kid. When was the last time she asked something big of you?” 

Rooster couldn't recall, causing Jake to just sigh and shake his head “I'm telling you this as your friend.. Fix this.. Because I wont fuck up where Maverick is concerned” Jake smirked at Bradley as they pulled into the driveway of your shared home. Rooster was practically out of the truck before it was in park, neither of them registering that the Bronco was gone. Jake watched as Bradley yelled your name, panicking more and more as he cleared each room. When he made it back to the living room he was already pulling his phone out. His thumb didn't even hesitate to click the call button as he tried to get ahold of you. 

He called over and over again, not knowing that you were watching as your phone buzzed just a few feet from the car. You could swear you saw a man who looked just like Bradley walk up to the Bronco and give you a sad smile. Your eyes closed just as the bright blue and red lights started flashing close enough to illuminate your accident. Your last thought about how Bradley would get what he wanted. What his final sentence had been to you, come to life.. It just cost him the Bronco. 

~~~

The ER was nuts on a good night, but tonight a Nurse named Layla was panicking. She had only met you a few times, being one of Hangman's regulars. At first, when she heard the explanation of the vehicle she was sure it was a Bradshaw, but unfortunately there was no IDS in the car and the police in the rush of trying to save you, had missed your phone. It wasn't until she rushed into the room to help with the CPR rotation that she knew it was you. Your hair was matted back with blood, the number of cuts and bruises amazed her. She was even more amazed that the tattoo on your hip was untouched. The one of a rooster with aviators on, the one that had confirmed who you were. 

Quickly announcing that she knew who you were she ran from the room. Slipping sideways as she tried to open her employee locker. She had never dialed Jake's number so quickly. 

Jake felt sick after he hung up. He was thankful for Layla, honestly he had always really liked her and this made him feel like he needed to take the whole thing with her seriously. But as he looked at Bradley, who was practically hyperventilating he didn't know how he was going to get him to the hospital. Layla had told him it was bad, bad enough that she didn't know if you were going to make it. Hangman heard the words come out of his mouth before he could stop them. They were harsh and he wanted to take the way he said it back almost immediately. “Bradshaw, looks like I found your wife.. She's in the hospital.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bradleys entire world came crashing down in a matter of nanoseconds. He kept trying to say what by only the wh would come out. He could see Jake's mouth moving as he ushered him back to the truck, and could comprehend that he was on the phone with Mav. But he couldn't grasp anything. 

Well that is until the last interaction he had with his wife, the wife who was currently dying, played in his head. The one where he stormed out, didn't tell her he loved her. Didn't give her a kiss. Just said words that want to make him vomit now. Jake didn't fully hear him the first time he spoke, but when he asked Rooster to repeat himself, it took a lot of self control to not hit the man. 

“My last words to her.. They were that I'd probably be better off without any of the Mitchells..”

Bradley's mouth tasted sour, his whole body weighed down as he cried silently. Thinking about how much he would hate himself if he couldn't make this right. What if you left him after this? Would you move in the Mav? Get with someone like Jake? God he doesn't think he could watch it. Doesn't think he could handle you even packing an overnight bag to be away from him for a night. Why did he always let this happen? 

Why does he always let his anger just blurt out, why does he always take it out on you? When Mav had pulled his papers? It had been you he left. When his mom passed and you were trying to clean the house up for the wake.. It had been you he screamed at, even you whose head was right next to the wall he threw her favorite coffee cup into. But he only ever remembered the parts he liked. The memories where you held him while he cried and tried to pick up the pieces of that cup. Where he found a replacement in the cupboard a few days later. The parts of your story that made him feel loved. Like when he showed up at UVA, standing on your townhouse step with a duffle bag, sad eyes and apologies. It had been pouring rain, you had made him beg on his knees on the front porch before letting him in. 

He didn't hear any of Jake's words on the drive, and was out of the car even sooner this time. His feet eat up the distance between him and the front desk attendant. When they tell him you're still unstable and he will have to wait, he almost passes out. Once again Jake leads him to a seat. He doesn't register anything that doesn't have to do with you. He barely notices as the other members of the squad show up. Maverick kneels in front of him trying to catch his eye. But when he does, Bradley loses it. The tears that have been silently streaming down his face are now coming out in full sobs. Bradley keeps apologizing over and over, for not treating his daughter the way he should have. For what he said, for how long he has let this go on. It's like sad but relieving word vomit. 

Once Bradleys done, he moves on to reassuring an equally distressed Amelia. Who crying and sobs every word out as she explains to someone she looks at like a big brother, what happened. Bradleys not mad at her, hes not even mad at her friends. He's mad at himself, because had he grown up sooner, had he not been the reason for this fight, you wouldn't have been out on the road anyways. You would've been at home, wrapped up in his arms watching trash tv before having sex and falling asleep. He put you here, he knows that. 

When Layla comes out and says a soft hi, it breaks her heart and fills it to see the entire group here. She's surprised when Jake comes and hugs her, kissing the top of her head and thanking her profusely. She spoke as frankly and kindly as she could. “It was touch and go for a while. We lost her a few times.. She was unconscious when the cops found her.. She's got a long road ahead of her. Collapsed lung, small brain bleed, lots of bruises and a handful of broken bones. She's stable for now, but I don't really have good news yet. The first 24 hours are crucial.” 

All Bradley could hear as Layla led him and Maverick down the hall was that you had died.. Multiple times. He heard Mav gasp slightly as he entered the room, and it was like glue that forced Bradleys feet to stay in place. Layla paused as your dad walked towards you and turned to your husband. “I know this is hard Rooster.. But Y/ns a fighter.. She fought hard while in the Bronco, fought harder in the ambulance and here to stay with you.. But now she needs you..” Layla squeezed his arm as he took the small step to the doorway. 

The scene in front of him was nothing like in the movies. Ones where they show someone who was ‘in an accident’ but is barely bruised up. No, because the woman laying before him couldn't be his wife. Your skin was grayish, instead of the healthy tan glow you had developed under the Cali sun. The multiple leads and wires you had on you helping to sustain your life made him sick. A collar around your neck to keep your head stable. There were gashes across your beautiful face, and bruises on every inch of skin he could see. He knew the next moment he had with you would be make it or break it. You would either wake up, and be happy to see him.. Or you would wake up and ask him to leave.. 

Now all he could do.. Was wait. 

[marilynthornhilllover]

can you please make a fanfic we’re Larissa dies like in the show then wife reader makes and attends the funeral, but when she gets home she realizes that the front door to her and Larissa’s home was unlocked so she goes in slowly but she sees Larissa at the kitchen table drinking wine and Larissa says something like “miss me darling” and then some smut if you want. ❤️💋

Filthy love

Larissa weems x Fem reader

Warning: Angst, grief, sadness, slight anger, pain, lots of talk about depression, faking of death, smut, fingering, cunniligus, usage of toys such as : vibrator and strap, slight choking, kinda soft sex, praise kink, stalker kink if you squint, slight mommy kink, slight degradation kink.

A/n: I just want to say a HUGE THANK YOU to all of you who got me to 1,005 followers!! I'm so so so grateful and happy. I'm looking forward to continue writing fanfics for you all, thank you for interacting with my work and blog and simply liking my content and i am blessed to have each and everyone of you on board with me, sending love to you all also I hope you enjoy this 1k following special fanfic 👀💖.

There wasn't enough words in the English dictionary to describe the pain and emptiness that you were feeling as you stood over larissa's closed casket. There were no more tears left to cry. All you felt was emptiness, a never ending suffocating cycle of pure sadness, filled with rage. They say death has no sting and that it sneaks up on you and it's absolutely true. Nothing compares to what you felt currently.

You couldn't feel anything, you couldn't hear anything. It's like being trapped in the middle of the ocean with no air yet your still not exactly drowning, you don't want to drown but you refuse to be rescued out of the toxicity of the air.

You felt utterly numb. It's as if you too weren't alive, like a part of you died with her, and is to stay forever buried with her. Soon you'll have to thrown the first batch of sand on her grave, plant flowers two months later, listen to people express their condolences and state how larissa was a ' sunshine in a word filled with gloom'. Correct - absolutely correct. She was your sunshine in your world of gloom.

Truth be told you didn't deserve larissa - Or maybe larissa didn't deserve you. You'd always argue, she'd always stay at work. Nothing was simple, everything was so complicated behind the thick walls of your home. Fake bright smiles where somtimes even the Toothpaste couldn't clean the disgusting words you'd both spit at eachother behind close doors just to apologize minutes after with kept hatred inside.

It's as if you weren't there, but she was still here. It's not possible. She no longer existed and you wished you could swap places. She died so you can live but really and truly you didn't want to be here either.

The word is toxic and exhausting and larissa kept things joyful for you, always ready to sacrifice her happiness to see you smile. The memories of the good kept attacking your brain, handing in return instant headaches.

The first time you both laid eyes on eachother.

The time she asked you out on your first ever date.

The time she asked you to be her girlfriend.

The time she proposed.

The time she asked you to move in.

Right until the day you both said ' I do' the only soft, truthful words to ever be said to eachother. Maybe if larissa was here she offered up her happiness. You felt everything at once. It was all overwhelming. You wanted to be no where and here at the same time. The sadness you felt inside was unbearable yet no tears dared to escape..... they all stayed dried.

With a sigh you sniffed and made your way towards your seat, sitting besides Wednesday you flicked a warm smile towards her, you weren't sure if it was quite excalty warm though, after all your warmth was laying with her hands on her chest in a small, itchy casket. Larissa hated small spaces, if she was alive she wouldn't even be lying there now..... and that's how you knew she's really dead.

Because in the back of your head, there was a part of you that believed this was all a joke and that maybe thos was all a cruel prank to be played.

" are you ok?" You turned to look at the small girl besides you, forcing a smile you nodded. She definitely didn't believed you, to be honest who would?. Calling your heart broken would be an understatement, you don't know how celion dion sang that song because your heart definitely will not be going on without larissa. If you could have took her hand in death you would have.

"Til death do us part"

Wednesday truly cared for larissa, under her tough goth act there laid a heart of gold for the sapphire, Elsa blond hair and beautifully paled skin beauty.

You were once again broken from your trance as the pastor began to do his speech.

This you realized was your Roman empire, your own wife's death. You should really he celebrating her life but she hardly enjoyed her life. She was too tied up with work and you being on her back 24/7 percent of the time. She wasn't allowed space to breathe, well now she has more than enough.

After the pastor was done doing his speech you stepped on stage to say your urology - your last words. Taking a steady breath, and a long exhale you positioned the paper infront of you on the podium as you tried your best not to allow the tears their accompanied time frame.

" firstly, i want to thank you all for truly being here today so that we can honor our beloved and bright spark, Larissa Weems..... larissa was many things.... she was a principal, to some a English teacher. She was a daughter, a lover, a role model etc but t-to." You sighed as you looked down steading out your breath as your voice broke.

" to me larissa was much more than that in my life. I was a field of dead flowers before I met larissa, a-and she was like the sun that came out, bringing both warmth and healing into my life. She was and will forever be my hero that wore heels and my sunlight that brighten and made my life and day better. S-she never failed to make me smile or laugh, even giggle. I know to many of you she was so much more than just a sun.... she was the entire world even universe. And as we lay her to rest today I hope we all find the time to heal and be storng, because that's who larissa was, storng....."

Everyone sniffed, some clapped, most breaking down in tears. You never ment for anyone to shed even more tears or for any hearts to be broken any more than they already were you just needed everyone to find peace just as much as you wanted to find it as well.

After the funeral was over you hugged everyone goodbye and wished them a safe drive home as you also headed home, already planning to sleep because you couldn't accept the pain that you will feel after arriving home and realizing the house is empty.

As you pulled into the driveway you noticed the door looked pushed open. You weren't in the correct headspace but you knew for sure weren't crazy, you remember closing and locking the door perfectly well after leaving. After switching off the car and getting out you carefully walked up to the house - the mansion.

You fired all employees for three months with pay since you needed the time and house for yourself to simply be human and do human things which in this situation will be to grieve. Upon arrival you inspected the door before pushing it open and stepping inside slowly. If there was an intruder you'd rather catch them in the act, then call the police.

" hello?? Who's there? I suggest you just surrender now or I won't hesitate to call the cops on yo-" as you rounded the corner of the kitchen you saw larissa sitting on top of the countertop with her heels long forgotten on the carpet of the dinning room chair. Her lipstick was smudge as her legs swinged back and forth. She looked...... well not dead obviously. You knew for sure you weren't dreaming and she definitely looked very alive.

She moaned softly as she finished her wine and placed the glass down ontop the counter with a small cling. She sighed as a smirk was quickly painted across her face. You didn't know how to react. Maybe you should scream and run for your life, be happy and joyful or to maybe stay sad just incase this was your own mind manipulating you into a maladaptive dream land trance.

" hello darling....." She spoke in a low husky voice as her eyes flicked up towards yours, they were dark and swirling with desires for many things - things that you knew of and knew not of.

" did you miss me?" She asked as her eyebrows quirked up in a teasing manner. Your body stayed frozen as she jumped off of the counter and strides towards you very slowly. Her hips swayed as the smirk remained on her face. You could hear your rapid heartbeat in your chest with every closer step she took towards you, not breaking eye contact nor curving her lips into a non - smirk.

She finally stopped right infront of you as she tilted her head to the side, inspecting your face, possibly trying her best to read your every emotion as well as she can. As you looked into her eyes you saw, warmth, passion, love, peace, joy, everything that made larissa unique was swirling around in her sapphire iris, you felt your connection spark that you had with her ignite as her hands made their way around your waist pulling you flush against her body.

" I'm alive, my love. Long story but right now I think I'd rather cherish you" she whispered against your earlobe, gently pressing a kiss towards your neck before leaning back to look at your face, but again it remained blank because you did not have any reactions or emotions lingering on your face or in your eyes. It's like you were a statue, frozen before time.

Larissa chuckled softly, her hands making their upwards your chest Slightly grouping your breast making a moan escape your from the back of your throat. She grinned as she pushed you up against the counter. Despite all odds and questions that needed to be asked about everything that happened you needed her badly, she was like a drug that you needed desperately to live. You grabbed her cheeks and forced her lips against yours.

It took her by surprise but she quickly kissed back with the same equal amount of passion. You opened your mouth and gaved her access as she gladly took it by slipping in her tongue and using it to her advantage. Her hands traveled down your body wildly as she squeezed your ass and grabbed your hips harshly as she picked you up and took you to the bedroom.

She kicked the door open with her feet as she switched on the lamp light before throwing you onto the bed aggressively. She crawled up towards you and reconnected both your lips again in a heated, sloppy desperate kiss that spoke so much words that the lips could never utter.

You helped her take off her clothing as she helped you in return.

" fuck I need to taste you darling" she mumbled before spreading your thighs apart and smirking. She bit her bottom lip as she admired your baby pink lace panties before proceeding to pulling it to the side. She groaned as she saw your arousal spreaded all around your cunt as your puffy clit stared back at her. Larissa wasted no time as she enveloped her mouth onto your small bud immediately setting a fast sucking pace.

Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as your hands immediately flew to her hair pulling her even closer.

" your so fucking delicious darling" she purred as the vibrations from her speech made your shiver. Larissa used her hands to hold your thighs open to prevent you from squirming and bucking your hips as her tongue flicked back and forth against your clit in a rapid pace.

" f-fuck, larissa, I'm gonna cum." You whispered as she chuckled darkly, her hot breath on your cunt was driving you crazy. She knew fully well what she was doing to you. Your stomach twisted as you felt larissas fingers trace slow steady circles around your entrance that caused your back to arch.

" so needy for mommy huh baby, you need me to be alive to fuck you senseless" your brain began to get fuzzy, the effect larissa had on you was dangerous - deadly dangerous. Your grip in her hair tighten as your nails digged deeper into her scalp. Your eyes rolled back as she continued to violate your clit endless in the most oragam way possible.

You felt the knot in your stomach tied as it was ready to explode. Your other free hand gripped the sheets as you swore you were gonna leave holes in it.

" such a dirty slut for mommy darling" she cooed as she slowly thrusted her two slender fingers into you at once before pulling them out, and that was all it took before you cummed in her mouth. She removed her lips from your abused bud as she gently kissed it before leaving open mouth kisses on your hot sweaty skin all the way up to your lips.

She watched as you tried to catch your breath as you gently shivered.

" I'm not done yet princess" she whispered before leaning over towards the side table and pulling open the drawer, her hand rumbled around in there for a while before a pink clip on button vibrator cake evident in your eyes. Larissa smirked before snaking her way back down to your pussy. She took both sides of your underwear and pulled it down as you lifted your hips to assist her.

You spread your legs even wider for her. She looked up at you with an evil expression before attaching the vibrator to your sensitive clit. As soon as she turned on the button you collapsed onto the bed in pleasure. You moaned as her hand wrapped around your neck. She leaned down closely to your face, her lips ghosting yours. You leaned in to place a kiss onto her lips but she pulled away chuckling.

" such a needy little girl, letting me do what I want with her needy cunt" you gasped as she slipped her two slender fingers into your cunt, your eyes rolled back as you let out a sigh of satisfaction. You could hear as her fingers went in and out of your wet cunt with squelching noises and your sweet moans and whimpers for her. You were her bitch to fuck.

Her hold on your neck tighten even more as her pace picked up to something more brutal. You cried out as she curled her fingers in you, hitting your sweet spot over and over again that had you going dumb for her and crying. She loved the way your greedy cunt clench led down around her fingers. Your hips rocked back and forth desperate to meet her thrust.

" Come on darling, cum again for me" she cooed as she picked up her pace, pushing her fingers deeper into you lr cunt past knuckle length.

" OH GOD! MOMMY! P-PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE, NEED IT SO BAD" you screamed as larissa pinched your nipple before slapping it, feeling as your body quirked and trashed beneath her, as your cunt spasms around her fingers. You wanted to try to hold off your oragsm a little while longer, not wanting to seem ' truly desperate ' as a whore who just needed her pussy fucked every second of the day by her wife but you simply couldn't.

" I know you want to" she whispered in a sultry voice, and that was the end of you. Your back arched as you let out the most pornographic moan ever to be heard as you coated larissas fingers with your cream. She continued to fuck you through your oragsm until you couldn't take the overstiumlation anymore. She removed her fingers and cleaned them off with her tongue, keeping her eyes on you.

The way her tongue swirled around her everyone finger, licking up your juices that ran down her hand made your cunt throb. You gulp as you cleared your throat.

" I wanna ride you" you spoke lowly and larissa scoffed.

" go on, get the strap then you can fuck yourself on mommy big cock, maybe if we're lucky I can put a baby in you, get you all full and round with my baby" she groaned.

the thought along had you sprinting towards the closest to get the biggest strap with the most deepest curve possible.

And with this you knew tonight was going to be a very very long night....... hopefully one with pleasure and maybe when that's finished you can get the answers you deserve, because you didn't deserve all that pain and heartache.

[okw2ka]

MY FAVOURITES AS MY KINKS. 

praise and size kink.

+ “feels so good baby fuck” he moans, watching as he attempts to push his fat cock in your weeping cunt. “t-too big!” he chuckles  at your cry - he barely has half of it in and yet he was here wiping your tears away. “‘s okay princess don’t cry...” he smiles softly, looking like he was almost losing himself in your perfect face, “look at that, taking it so well for me. gonna give my good girl all of me” he finally, somehow, fits it in and the way you’re clenching around him makes him think that he might cum right there and then. “you feel that?” he refuses to tear his eyes away from the way your lip trembles and your eyebrows knit together in pleasure, watching as he rubs your lower stomach, “y’feel my cock sweet girl? ‘s all for you, all yours” he begins to pump his cock slowly in and out of you, making sure you feel all of him. as he peppers you with kisses and showers you with his pants and groans against your neck, he can’t seem to stop whispering to you one thing “‘m all yours princess all yours”

DRAKEN. mitsuya. chifuyu. shinichiro. kazutora.

degradation and gun kink.

+ “fuuuck keep riding me like that mama you got it” your thighs were starting to get sore but its not really like you had the choice to stop. not with his finger on the trigger of his glock. he toys with it casually, testing where he’d like to aim more - your waist? maybe your chest? he thinks his favourite is how your pussy clenches around him so tightly when you feel the cool metal at your temple, head falling back on his shoulder, begging him to just fuck you. “need me to fuck you huh? i guess that’s my fault for spoiling you so much” he sighs and you think you hear the cocking of his gun as one of his arms comes around your back to hold you close to him. you drool as he fucks up into you, your cries synchronized to his thrusts. “dumb slut can’t ride me for shit,” he manages his teeth, the feeling of your tight cunt almost too overwhelming, “gonna beat that pussy black and blue baby fuck” you can hardly answer. he’s barely started and you’re practically brainless on his cock. you can’t even contain your sobs when he hits that particular spot deep inside you and if you weren’t next to him you wouldn’t have been able to capture his whisper. “you’re so fucking lucky i didn’t pull this trigger princess”

wakasawakasawakasa. baji. RAN. 

dumbification and being recorded.

+ “smile baby!” he teases meanly, your brain not even comprehending the words properly. your pussy spasms around his pulsing cock, aching at just the mere sight of your eyes rolling back, dumb on his dick and high off of the camera itself. “can’t believe you’re all mine, isn’t that right?” he groans, like you could even reply. “come on i think i asked you a question,” he says when the only reply he recieves is a choked moan, “who do you belong to angel?” as if there was any doubt you would say anything but his name. you cry out in reply, thighs shaking like the camera capturing your disheveled state as you moan mindlessly, not even able to spit out one word. “aw don’t tell me you’ve already gone dumb on my cock princess?” he makes sure to slow down just so you can feel every single vein and every single part of him. “now tell the camera who fucks you this good baby, who owns this pretty pussy?” he reminds you as he watches your lip trembles and your eyes try their very best not to go cross eyed. “y-you! y’own me!!” you manage to sob, nails digging into the sheets. “that’s right and don’t forget it,” he zooms in on your gushing cunt, so close to cumming, “i’m the only one who’ll make you feel this good. you’re all mine”

wakasa. chifuyu. RAN. rindou.

okw2ka© do not modify and repost my works on any platform.

[nottapossum]

Two of my brain cells rubbed together, and now I have this idea in my head. How would any caregiver you write for act around their sick or not feeling well little be like

Awww I love this one lol

(Feeling like I've been abandoning Ozzie lately. I love him so much lol)

Ozzie! 💙🐔:

When Fizz is sick, Ozzie will cancel whatever he has going on, no matter what it is to be there for him.

Meeting with another sin?

Canceled.

Has an important guest at Ozzie's?

Who cares! Canceled!

Lucifer is at war with heaven and wants his help?

Decline phone call.

He will drop all of it for Fizz!

He'll spend the day coddling Fizz, making sure he has plenty of food and water, and has everything he needs.

Ozzie worries about Fizz constantly and will stay up all night to be sure he's okay.

Even if it's just a simple cold or a headache.

He'd never leave Fizz to handle it on his own. Little or not.

Lute:

When a little in Lutes' care is sick, she will do everything by the book.

Make sure to check their temperature every couple of hours,

Make sure they're drinking water,

Eating food,

Take their medicine.

And they are to stay in bed until the sickness is gone. She doesn't care if they feel better or not!

Adam:

Adam doesn't know how to deal with sick kiddos... so he'll get one of his angels to take care of it. Probably lute, if lute is sick, he'll ask another excersist.

He doesn't do germs.

Carmilla: Carmilla has a special soup she will make for the girls if they're sick. She'll advise they stay in bed and constantly check in on them as a mother does. She'll shower them with love and comfort until they feel better 💕

Zestial: He has such a soft heart. He will feel so bad for the sick little one that he'll give them anything they want. He'll keep a very close eye on them and sing softly to them to help them feel a bit better.

Husk:

Little Angel will cling to Husk when he's feeling icky.

Whether he's sick, hurt, or hungover from when he was big.

He'll cling onto the winged cat for comfort, asking him to make the discomfort stop.

Husk is understanding of Angel, and though he can't make the pain go away, he will do everything he can to help.

He'll lay in bed with Angel to make sure he gets some sleep.

When he has to get up, he'll wear a baby carrior so he can keep Angel close to him at all times. (Angel is taller than him, so it took a while to figure it out, but they got the hang of it.)

Angel will cry if Husk leaves for even a moment. His codependency of Husk gets a lot worse when he's sick.

Husk will suggest Angel wear diapers while sick because of his very little control of his bodily functions even when he's not sick. Usually, Angel will agree, but sometimes he'll refuse and have a few accidents. Husk doesn't mind, though. He just wants what's best for Angel. He doesn't mind cleaning him up so long as Angel is comfortable.

He'll soothe the little spider with soft humming and back rubs as he rocks him gently and holds him tight.

By the next day, Husk will be so burnt out that he'll take the day to sleep in and recover.

Angel will always try to make it up by giving him breakfast in bed and thanking him for all he did. 💖 He knows it's not easy to take care of him all the time and wants to share his appreciation for all his friends' support.

Charlie:

Charlie will drop everything to care for her little one!

She'll make them a little care basket and buy them something (like a toy) to try and cheer them up! She'll provide everything they need and help set them up comfortably with their favorite cartoons! With Vaggy specifically, she really has to be careful not to upset her when she leaves to make her soup.

The little one hates being away from her mama.

Vaggy:

Charlie will always insist she's not sick, even when she definitely is.

Vaggy will have to be strict with her, but she needs to be careful not to hurt Charlie's feelings.

She'll tell Charlie to get to bed as she makes her some soup, tea, and gets her a sippy cup of water.

Charlie will cry and fuss because she hates being sick, but Vaggy is equipped to handle anything Charlie has to throw at her.

She fights Charlie's sass with comforting reassurance that it's okay to be sick sometimes and it isn't Charlie's fault.

She promises that everything will be okay and she'll express how much she loves to take care of her.

Then, once Charlie feels a bit better, she'll put on a movie and pet her head until she falls asleep. ❤️

Bee:

Bee will provide anything the little needs or wants, she'll stop at nothing to be sure her little one is as spoiled as they need!

She'll buy them a bunch of new stuff,

Offer them all the comfort in the world!

Anything to make them smile!

Tex: Then Tex will encourage bee to calm down and just let the little one rest.

Then they'll work together ❤️

They'll sing to their little,

Work together to help their little one take medicine,

And they'll read to their little one and pet their head affectionatly to help them sleep. 💕💖

Stolas: Blitzø is good at pretending he isn't sick. He always pushes it down and fights through it until it's so bad that he just can't deal with it anymore!

Stolas will either figure out that Blitzø is sick through Loona or Blitzø will just tell him.

The bird will take him to the palace and force him to stay in bed and rest as he pampers and fusses over him. (Blitzø has told him that he's allowed to do so because he won't stay in bed and get better otherwise. He knows himself too well.)

He'll make Blitzø take medicine, drink tea, and eat soup.

He'll take care of Blitzø, whether he is little or not. But Blitzø always ends up regressing because he feels awful and wants to be comforted.

After he has regressed, he'll refuse to leave Stolas’s side, asking for cuddles.

Stolas will oblige and give Blitzø all the comfort and love he can. He'll also sing to the little one and read to him to help pass the time.

Loona:

Loona is still struggling to find her caregiver headspace. But she knows that when little ones are sick, she needs to comfort them and make sure they're resting and drinking water.

She'll be very worried about her little one, but more worried that she'll do something stupid and make the experience worse!

She'll be very careful and do the best she can, do what's expected of a caregiver in this scenario.

By the end, she'll feel as if she did everything wrong because she bought rice soup instead of noodles soup, or forgot about the hot water for the tea!

But her little one will hug her and thank her for taking care of them 💗

Which will put a smile on her face as years of joy form in her eyes.

Millie: Millie will hold Moxxie and baby him the whole time, and Moxxie won't mind a bit!

Millie is very protective of Moxxie, so even if Moxxie is asleep, she's watching him to be sure he's okay.

She makes sure his water bottle is always full. She's constantly filling it and encouraging him to drink more.

She has a special soup recipe her mama passed down to her, and it's sure to make the little one feel better.

She'll spoon feed him, then cuddle up next to him to comfort him until he feels better.

Then, of course, she gets sick, so Moxxie gets to return the favor and take care of her next.

Lmk if you want part 2 with The Vees, Lucifer, Emily, Peter, Sera, Rosie, Alastor, Striker, and Stella...

Wow, there's a lot of characters lol 😆

@todayimfour

@trophyxtissues2

@ask-dusty-boy

[george-weasleys-girl]

Would you be able to write one with reader defending George to her friends and soft boi overhears and practically melts. If you would be so kind.

Low-key got excited that you did you might start writing for Fred as well as I'm a slut for both twins :) (Most definitely George thou but Fred kinda close second 😉)

I love this! Thank you for requesting it, anon. I hope you enjoy it!

Wonderful You

Warnings: cursing, depression

~•~

There are some days that just lay on you like a stone. Today was one of those days for George. Nothing in particular caused it. It was just something that happened to him from time to time, and he didn't know why.

George pushed the covers off, already exhausted. It was as if his body was made of lead. He could barely lift his head from the pillow, and it ached, no... hurt, to pull himself out of bed. To get dressed. To put one foot in front of the other. But it would hurt more without you by his side. So, he did all of it and made his way downstairs.

It was Thursday, which meant you were already up for your volunteer shift at the library. He'd get there just in time for your shift to end. Then you could go cuddle for hours on end, as the two of you always did when he was having one of his black days.

~•~

He could hear voices outside the library before he rounded the corner.

"I just don't understand what you see in him," one said. "I mean, he's cute, I'll give you that. But he's such an annoying prat."

It didn't occur to George that they were talking about him until he heard his girlfriend's voice.

"Well, it's a good thing he's my boyfriend and not yours," Y/N snapped.

"Look, Y/N were not trying upset you," said another voice. "We just think you could, you know, do so much better."

George peeked around the corner to see Y/N standing with her arms crossed, facing two of her Ravenclaw friends, Abby and Lydia.

"Excuse me," Y/N retorted. "But, you don't know a damn thing about him or our relationship."

"I know enough to know the only thing he cares about are his precious pranks and ridiculous inventions. He'll never amount to anything. Even his own mother knows that." Lydia said.

George slunk back into the shadows, sinking down on the nearby bench, head in his hands. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it refused to budge. What if Lydia was right? What if his mum was right? What if he was nothing more than a series of disappointments?

What if?

What if?

What if?

What if he didn't deserve someone as wonderful as Y/N? What if he'd only bring her down?

He was seconds away from shuffling back upstairs and burying himself in bed when Y/N's voice stopped him in his tracks. George turned and peeked around the corner again.

"As I said," Y/N's voice was steady, but there was an edge to it that hinted at the rage seething just beneath her skin. "You don't know a damn thing about him. You only see what you want to see. So, until you get off your high horse and make an effort to get to know the most amazing, sweet, brilliant human being to ever come into my life, I suggest you shut the fuck up."

Abby snorted. "I'm sorry Y/N but, brilliant? Brilliant? Really? He can barely be bothered to do his schoolwork. I shudder to think of his grades."

George watched in awe as his barely five foot girlfriend rounded on the very tall, wide-eyed Abby and backed her against the wall.

"You should have stopped at 'I'm sorry,' she said. "But, that's ok, because now I know who you really are. An arrogant, elitist snob. George is more intelligent than ten of you. He actually knows how to use his brain instead of just parroting back facts."

"But..." Abby started.

"Nope." Y/N cut her off. "I don't want to hear anything else you have to say. You've lost the privilege to talk to me."

Abby looked like she might cry. Y/N didn't care. She whirled around and ran smack into Lydia.

"The same goes for you." Y/N tried to go around the girl, but Lydia stepped in front of her.

"Please, Y/N, don't be like this," she pled. "I know we came off a bit gruff, but it's only because we care. We don't want to see you--" Lydia's words trailed off.

"What?" Y/N asked, stepping closer. "You don't want to see me what?"

"Well, it's just, you have so much potential and we just don't want to see it wasted on a--"

"A Weasley? Is that what you're saying?" Y/N was now almost nose to nose with Lydia, who stumbled, trying to back away from the irate witch.

"Let me tell you something, both of you," Y/N began. "I'm am the luckiest girl in the world because George Weasley loves me. And I'm doubly lucky because his family loves me too. And I ever catch wind of either of you saying one word against George or his family again, I will hex you with so many spells it'll take decades to untangle them all."

Y/N bent down to pick up her cloak, which had slipped off her shoulders and onto the floor. "Stay away from me," she warned her ex-friends. "And away from George." Then she turned and stomped away.

~•~

Y/N was so furious that she didn't even notice George when she rounded the corner. A yelp escaped her lips before she realized it was her boyfriend who'd grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug.

"Oh hi, sweetie!" Y/N gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I love you so much, Y/N," he mummered into her ear. "How are you even real? How are you even mine?"

Y/N heard the tremor in his voice and pushed back a little so she could see his face. "Georgie, have you been crying?" The question was rhetorical, of course, because his bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes gave him away.

"Uh, maybe a little."

A little, my ass. "Did you hear any of that conversation?"

George nodded, releasing his hold on her to wipe his eyes.

Dammit. "Now, you listen to me, George. Don't you dare believe one word they said. They're stuck-up idiots who don't deserve a second thought. Ok?"

George nodded again. "Will you marry me?" The question came completely out of the blue. "I know we're only seventeen, and we still have to finish school, and I don't have ring, and--"

Y/N silenced him with a kiss. "Yes," she said, eyes sparkling even in the dim light. "A thousand times, yes! But let's graduate first, ok," she added with a smile.

George nodded and gathered her up into another bear hug. "I love you, and I promise I'll take care of you and never disappoint--"

"Georgie, sweetheart," she gently interrupted. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"No," he whispered. "But I will be."

Y/N looked at him, really looked at him, and it hit her.

"Oh lovey," she said. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I am--I was," he stammered. "I came down to find you, but I heard those things being said about me, and it hurt. I started to think that maybe they were true and I almost left. But, then you said all those wonderful things, and you made me feel like the most special person in the world."

Y/N smiled up at him. "That's because you are the most special person in the world. And, to me, you always will be."

A smile spread across George's face for the first time since he woke up. "Just when I think I can't love you anymore than I already do." He leaned down and kissed her gently, their foreheads resting together even after they pulled away.

"Now, how about we grab some breakfast and go find a quiet place to snuggle the day away?" Y/N asked.

"Yes, please." George smiled sheepishly. "As long as you don't have anything more important to do."

"There is nothing and no one more important than you, my sweet Georgie."

[seagoober]

AHHAHAHA I love bee so much. He’s one of my favorite characters to exist ever! He’s just a sweet bean.

Enjoy some romantic headcannons for our favorite bee 🐝

Meeting Tfp! Bumblebee

🐝Human reader! Gender neutral 🐝

~You met Bumblebee after you watched Raf (the child you were babysitting because his parents went out of town and his older siblings refused to watch after him because they had their own plans) get into a stranger yellow Camaro.

~Your first instinct was screech bloody murder because That was your kid! You chased after the car and threw your bag at it, ultimately stopping it.

~Raf hopped out of the car and tried to explain that it was his friend driving and they always hang out at their secret clubhouse after school and on weekends.

~this set off every single alarm bell and red flag in your brain. In your rage you went to open the driver’s side door to beat the shit outta this pervert. No one takes advantage of on of your sweet boys on your watch.

~Raf tries to stop you, crying that it’s ok and he isn’t a pervert. But you were hearing none of it. If he wanted to go with this strange yellow car to this ‘clubhouse’ you were going with him.

~Raf adamantly protests this, but you refuse to let him go alone. Just because he was very independent 12 year old doesn’t mean he doesn’t need supervision. Especially when you’ve been his babysitter since he was small.

~Raf sighs and asks the car if it’s ok if you come with them (which freaked you out that he was talking to the car but I digress)

~Low and behold you end up at some abandoned military base where there are two other children, Jack which you knew from his mom being friends with your own, and the foreign exchange girl, Mino? No no uh Miko! Yeah yeah Miko

~Seeing the yellow car transform into a 20 ft robot to match the size of the other robots in the room almost had you thinking that you were having some insanely elaborate dream.

~Raf introduced you to each of the bots. Which the white and orange one, Ratchet was his name, was very clear in his disgust for another human knowing of their existence. But Arcee and Bulkhead were kind to you and Optimus was very welcoming, so you let Ratchet’s bad attitude slide…. For now at least

~When Raf introduced Bumblebee though, man you’re cheeks were flushed red. You immediately apologized for calling him a pervert. To which he let out a string of beeps in response.

~”It’s ok you were just looking out for Raf” “It’s not ok, but thanks anyway”

~what truly shocked you was that you understood him. Realizing that you could understand him, the empty base was filled with his excited beeps.

~finally someone else who understood him! And a cute human no less!

~being the only other human who could understand him, you two became very close in a matter of weeks. Even after Raf’s parents came home, you would still get picked up by Bee and Raf to head to home base

~Bee really enjoys long talks with you about everything. You’re the only person to really get him on a deep level. Don’t get him wrong, Raf is a wonderful best friend; but, you were more than that to be. You were something special.

~now if only you could see the obvious attempts at flirting he does. That would definitely make his year.

Thanks so much for reading! I hope you liked my headcannons! I plan on making a part two so don’t worry. My requests are open so ask away! I’m all ears

Seagoober rolling out ✌🏻