#go fix your squash

[sinkuna]

୨୧ — "Where is she?" Sukuna demanded, crimson eyes scanning your floral shop with predatory focus.

You glanced up from where you were arranging a vase, not bothering to hide your smile at his agitation. Five years together had taught you when his rage was genuinely dangerous and when it was… well, this…

"Good morning to you too," you replied calmly, tucking a spring of baby’s breath into the arrangement.

As he moved past you, you noticed a small splotch of blood on his cheek. Without a word, you reached out, catching his sleeve to stop him momentarily- his eyes flashed down at you, but he allowed it. He watched as you dabbed at the smeared mark with a wet cloth you’d been using to wipe up the counter… Wiping away the evidence of whatever or whoever he’d encountered before coming home.

Releasing his sleeve once his face was clean, you pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of his lips, "Last I saw her, she was out in the back garden counting butterflies."

"She called me," he growled, "Said she needed me for 'urgent business."

Your chuckle only darkened his scowl, "I told her, not to use your emergency number unless it was an actual emergency."

"But this IS an emergency!!" A tiny voice piped up from the garden doorway.

There she stood, his five year old daughter, a miniature mirror of himself. Even at her young age, she commanded attention with the same natural authority as her father, though her methods relied more on charm than intimidation.

"Someone stepped on Mr. Squiggles…" she announced, crimson eyes -identical to Sukuna’s- already brimming with tears.

Your heart broke at the sight, and you instinctively moved towards her. However she completely dodged your approaching form, instead running straight to her father, her small flip-flops slapping against the wooden floor.

Sukuna's brow furrowed as he looked down at her, towering over her tiny frame, "Who the fuck is Mr. Squiggles?"

"Language," you murmured, though the truth is you accepted long ago that battling Sukuna’s vocabulary was a losing war. 

"My caterpillar!" She whined, grabbing her father’s much larger hand and tugging with surprising strength, "You have to fix him!"

Sukuna’s eye twitched at the fact he was called from what he was doing to come home to this, but still he allowed himself to be led through the kitchen and into the garden. He shot you a look over his shoulder that clearly said, This is what constitutes an emergency?

You merely smiled, following them outside where the morning sun warmed the small garden. 

"There!!" She pointed dramatically to a small patch of milkweed where, upon closer inspection, a slightly squashed monarch caterpillar lay motionless… 

Sukuna crouched down, his massive frame folding with surprising grace as he examined the tiny creature. His hands -those same hands capable of unspeakable violence, hands that had broken bones and drawn blood without hesitation- hovered with unexpected gentleness over the crushed caterpillar.

"Who stepped on him?" He asked, voice deceptively calm in a way that made you tense slightly.

"It was mama’s helper," she sniffled, wiping a tear from her cheek...

"Mama's helper, huh?" Sukuna growled, his eyes sliding towards you, a dark glint in his gaze, "I'll have a nice little chat with them later, sweetheart." 

Sweetheart. The endearment rolled off his tongue in a way that seemed to go against his very nature, but that's precisely how you knew he was serious. When Sukuna used terms of endearment, it meant he would make sure this person paid for making his little girl cry. 

His attention turned back to the caterpillar, and he gingerly poked it.

"Can you help him, daddy?" She pleaded, with complete faith in her father’s abilities shining in her bright little eyes, "Make him all better?"  

"He’s pretty fucked up" he said bluntly…

"But-" She looked up at him, little hands clutching his sleeve, wrinkling the fabric, "You fix everything… mama told me lots of times how you make everything better!" 

Something tightened in Sukuna's chest- that familiar, uncomfortable squeeze that happened whenever his daughter looked at him like he hung the fucking moon. Like he wasn't the same man whose name made certain parts of the city go silent with terror.

"Not everything can be fixed, kid," he said, gentler than most would believe him capable of.

"Mr. Squiggles is hurt pretty badly, sweetie." Your voice was soft as you kneeled beside the two of them, the grass cool against your knees.

Her eyes started to well up again, tears spilling over, "B-but… Daddy makes us better when we get sick… an- and when my tooth fell out… an- an-"

Sukuna gave you a look that asked for backup, but you merely smiled sympathetically, leaving him to navigate this particular minefield alone.

Traitor.

Sukuna's jaw tightened the moment he looked back at his daughter, "Fuck," he whispered under his breath, a muscle working in his cheek as he carefully scooped up the flattened caterpillar onto a leaf, "I’ll try... No promises though."

It was a strange sight, watching Sukuna- this feared and powerful man, gently cradling this little creature in his hand. His expression was stern, yet focused as he brought it close to his face, examining it intently.

"Ah! Thank you, daddy!!" his little girl threw her arms around his neck, nearly toppling him backwards.

"Yeah...," Sukuna murmured, "No problem." His large scarred hand came up to steady her, patting her back with affection that had become less awkward over the years, "Now go get me a box, brat."

She beamed at him, eyes practically sparkling at the use of her favorite nickname before darting off, her footsteps quick and excited.

Sukuna remained crouched over the very much dead caterpillar, feeling rather foolish.

"How's the patient?" You asked, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, kissing the nape of his neck.

"You told her I make everything better?" his tone almost accusatory.

"I mean, you do~" you replied sweetly, and he snorted, turning his head just enough to give you a warning look, which only made you giggle. "Think of all the things you fix and make better. My life is significantly better with you in it,” he rolled his eyes as you continued, “and you fixed that leaky faucet, broken toys, scraped knees… Your motorc-"

"Not dead bugs."

"Mm… Yeah… Well, maybe Mr. Squiggles is just stunned…"  You glanced at the small green body still unmoving on the leaf, "I'm sure if anyone can wake him up, it's you." 

"It's fucking flattened," he muttered, examining the leaf in his palm.

Your daughter returned with a small pink box lined with fresh leaves, her face scrunched in concentration as she focused on not tripping, "Here, daddy!! The bug hospital!"

She leaned in close, her small hands braced on her father's knee as she watched him place Mr. Squiggles in the box. The contrast between them was striking- his hands scarred and powerful, hers tiny and unmarked. Yet there was no fear in how she pressed against him, no hesitation in how she invaded his space.

"Is he going to be okay?" she asked, voice ever so small and hopeful.

Sukuna's eyes remained fixed on the container, his mouth set in a hard line, "Don't know. Might take him a while to recover."

"So we have to wait?" she sighed, and you smiled at the familiar sound.

Sukuna nodded, and you felt a rush of affection at how patiently he was trying to deal with this.

"Oh..." 

Then, without any kind of warning, she looked up at him, "Daddy," she asked with the sudden, left field logic that only children possess, "would you still love me if I was a worm?"

Sukuna went absolutely still, his entire body tensing... The leaf he'd been adjusting tore slightly under the sudden pressure of his fingers. He turned his head slowly to look at his daughter, eyes narrowing as if she'd just asked him a trick question.

"The fuck kind of question is that?" his voice was rough, but his tone lacked any real bite.

She didn't flinch at his harsh tone- she never did. Instead, she just blinked those crimson eyes -so like his own- and repeated herself with the stubborn persistence only a five year old could muster, "If I was like Mr. Squiggles… I- If I got stepped on and turned into a worm. Would you still be my daddy?" her little eyebrows scrunching up in worry.

Shit… It was a serious question.

He ran a hand over his face and then back through his hair, a gesture you recognized all too well… he was thinking, very hard. You'd never seen him so thrown off, and you couldn't help but hide a smile behind your hand.

"Listen," he said finally, setting the box aside and turning to face his daughter fully.

"B-Because, maybe you wouldn't-" a small hiccup interrupted her, "maybe you wouldn't l-love me anymore."

You moved to step in, but Sukuna held up a hand, stopping you. His eyes never leaving his daughter's face, "Look at me," he commanded, his voice low but steady as he dropped to one knee, brining himself to her level.

It was a position he would allow with no one else, an exception he only made for her. "Listen carefully, because i'm only saying this once," his finger hooked under her chin, tilting her face up, "You're mine. My blood. You don't get to escape from that." his tone was deadly serious, the same tone he used when making promises that would be kept regardless of cost. "So," he continued, thumb swiping across her cheek to wipe away a stray tear, "worm or not, you're still my brat. That clear?"

Her red rimmed eyes widened, "Really?"

"Really." taking his thumb from her cheek he lightly flicked her forehead, making her giggle, "And if anyone tried to step on you…"

"You'd protect me?" she leaned against him, arms coming up around his neck, hugging him tightly, "Just like always, right?"

Over her head, his eyes met yours, and something passed between you… "I’d burn this whole damn city to the ground," his words carrying the unmistakable weight of truth, "Anyone who touched you would die screaming."

What should have been horrifying was instead comforting- the absolute certainty that this man, this monster who had chosen to be your protector, the father of your child, would tear apart the world to keep his daughter safe. To keep you both safe.

"I knew it," her tiny voice was muffled against him, "Mama says your heart is bigger than you pretend…" nuzzling into him, she added those three little words that made his throat visibly tighten, "I love you, Daddy." and you saw the moment Sukuna's eyes softened as they did only for you and her.

"Yeah well… Your mother talks too much," he grumbled, his hands moving to throw her over his shoulder.

"Daaaaadddyyyyy" she squealed, tiny legs kicking playfully against him, but there was no real resistance, no fear when he was the one holding her.

Sukuna turned to leave the garden, pausing by your side. His large hand reached out, grabbing a handful of your hair to draw you in with controlled force for a rough kiss. It was his habit- the physical equivalent of an ‘I love you.’

"Love you too," you whispered against his lips.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Later that night, after Sukuna had tucked his daughter in bed, you found him sitting out in the garden, nursing a glass of alcohol and staring at the pink bug hospital.

You slid onto the bench beside him, and he lifted his arm automatically, allowing you to tuck yourself against his side. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, content in the quiet and each other's warmth.

"I replaced it," he broke the silence first, his voice rumbling in his chest against your ear.

You blinked in confusion as you looked up at him, "Replaced what?"

"The flattened bug. What else? It was dead as shit. Found another on a bush at the edge of the garden."

A small laughed escaped you, "Of course you did."

He shot you a look that was both irritated and slightly embarrassed, "Don't start with me."

You trailed your fingers along the tattoos marking his chest, feeling his heart beat steady beneath your touch. "You know," you murmured, "for someone who claims to care about nothing, you’ve gotten awfully good at caring for everything that’s yours." You pressed your lips to the hollow of his throat, feeling his pulse quicken.

"Tch," he clicked his tongue, "fucking ridiculous." he grunted, but his arm tightened around you, "This is what i've been reduced to. Hunting a replacement bug for a five year old..." His expression sobered, "You ever regret it? This life?"

The question surprised you, Sukuna never voiced uncertainty about your relation, ever... "Not for a second," reaching up to caress the mark beneath his eye, "I knew what I was getting into."

He caught your hand, pressing a rare, gentle kiss to your palm, "No you didn't."

"I knew enough," you insisted, "I knew I was in good hands when it came to you, and that's all that mattered."

His eyes, crimson and sharp, searched yours, finding nothing but absolute certainty and trust, "And you're still not afraid?"

"Not of you. Never of you."

He made a sound low in his throat, pulling you into his lap with an ease that still thrilled you to this day. His hands -the same hands that cupped his daughter's face with tenderness, the same hands that would come home time to time stained with blood- framed your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones.

You smiled, leaning into his touch, "And I’ll always be yours, even if you turned into a worm."

A startled laugh escaped him, genuine and unguarded, before he captured your mouth in a kiss, deep and possessive- promising things no words could quite capture and a lifetime of protection.

[lemonmaid]

Sorry, I've been hyperficated for a minute.

Poly 141 x Baker! Reader

Small town AU

Butcher Simon who owns a meat store in the same building as your bakery store. (Literally a door over).

Butcher Simon who slowly starts to fall smitten over you whenever you come by and ask help pulling freight or those 50 pound flour bags.

Butcher Simon who comes to you with the idea of collaborating making lunch and dinner sandwiches, using your bread and his meats.

Cashier Johnny who constantly flirts with you whoever you pop in the morning.

Cashier Johnny who argues when Simon says he only hired him for his looks.

Cashier Johnny who gives you his employee discount, just don't tell Simon about there being an employee discount.

Cashier Johnny who plays the radio extra loud for Simon to hear the football game while he is in the cooler.

Farmer John who sells his meats to Simon.

Farmer John who also sells his eggs, dairy and other produce to you.

Farmer John who started growing squash, peppers and berries for your bakery and gets to try new items with his ingredients.

Farmer John who has a really bad sweet tooth and shyly buys the last lemon bar every morning.

Sheriff Kyle who comes every morning for your danishes

Sheriff Kyle who comes in every day before closing to buy a dinner sandwich

Sheriff Kyle who gives you his own personal phone number "just in case".

Sheriff Kyle who can be heard arguing with Johnny about meat prices every couple of months.

Sheriff Kyle who can be seen always on John's farm.

Small Town 141! Would be so protective over you.

Small Town 141! Always inviting you to the pub after work, even when they know you'll say no.

Small Town 141! Who always invites you to go hunting or hiking with them.

Small Town 141! Where they are always taking it upon themselves to fix something around your store. Glass needs repainting? Johnny is on it. Lights are out on the sign? Simon has replacements. Door doesn't lock? Kyle knows a guy who owes him a favor. Car broke? John can fix it.

Small Town 141! Who desperately want your affection.

[moonstruckme]

blanket fort - omg “you’re so cute when you’re half asleep.” with steve RAHH

Thank you Mal ilysm!

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 296 words

You’re luxuriating in the warm, syrupy goldenness on the insides of your eyelids, but the click of a camera snaps you right out of it. 

“Steve,” you whine. “Don’t.” 

“Shh.” You can hear laughter in your boyfriend’s tone. “Go back to sleep, babe.” 

It’s an enticing proposition. You start to, but another click squashes that notion. 

“Stop.” You reach for the camera, but you’re slow and lazy. Steve easily keeps it away from you. 

“Go back to sleep,” he says again. 

“I wasn’t sleeping.” You squint against the sun. “And I can’t if I know you’re taking pictures of me.” 

Steve hums. “Sure, you’re not sleeping. That book’s really gripping you, huh?” 

You forgot about your book. You raise your head, and there’s a small puddle of drool seeping into the pages. “Shit.” 

Steve laughs, smug and fond at once.

“I was half sleeping,” you admit. You lift yourself up from where you’re laying on your stomach on the soft grass of Steve’s backyard, stretching. 

“Hey, c’mon,” your boyfriend protests. His hand lands in the center of your back as you arch it, feeling the crackling of your joints. “You looked so comfortable. Lay back down, baby.” 

“Yeah, so you can take more pictures of me drooling?” You fix him with a faux glare, totally not affected by how the light sheen of sweat on his face makes him seem to glow in the sun. “Pass.” 

“You’re so cute when you’re half asleep,” Steve coaxes. 

“I’m burning those pictures, Harrington.” 

“Oh, yeah?” He picks the polaroids up from where they’re laid face-down on the grass and sticks them in his back pocket, giving it a pat. “Okay, come and take them.” 

You roll your eyes, and Steve laughs as you flop back down onto the grass. 

[wondersinwaynemanor]

hc that the batkids' partners go to Steph for anything as she's a batfam member already so she has ideas on what the others like or dislike.

1.

Wally, hands Steph a Batburger: Here ya go.

Steph, narrows her eyes on the food: Extra cheese?

Wally nods.

Steph: Did you ask for extra ketchup?

Wally, shrieks: You don't have ketchup in your apartment???

Steph: Do you want to know whether Dick liked the flowers you gave him last week or not?

Wally, already zooming away: Give me a sec, Stephanie!

2.

Roy, hands her the coffee machine that he fixed: Just loose wiring.

Steph, nods at it: Great job, Harper. Thanks.

Steph, hands Roy the tools she borrowed from the cave for his next project: If these even get a little scratch, B will not be pleased.

Roy, rolls his eyes: Delicate fingers, Brown.

Roy, hands some flowers he got from Dinah's shop: I believe these are fresh, Cass will love these.

Steph, smells them: Beautiful.

Steph, hands the special recipe of Butternut Squash soup that Jason loves: And if you lose this.... Then Alfie will take both of us down in a heartbeat.

Roy: I would never want to be against Alfred.

3.

Steph, groans: What is it this time, Clone?

Kon, floats by Steph on the rooftop: How did you handle it when Rob was having nightmares?

Steph: Does he still sleepwalk?

Kon, shrieks: He sleepwalks???

Steph, shrugs: Maybe.

Kon: What am I supposed to do??

Steph, shrugs casually: Slap him awake and kiss him, I supposed.

4.

Izzy, calls Steph: So...

Steph: I figure you need some advise on something related to Duke?

Izzy: Hey, I was just going to ask if you want to go get your nails done.

Steph: You paying?

Izzy: You are the one living under that mansion, Steph.

Steph: Not exactly.

Izzy: Ohh.

the conversation dies down for a couple of seconds, before Steph speaks again.

Steph, sighs: Take him to the new movie that's out. He likes Sci-fi movies.

Izzy, squeals: You're the best, Steph!

5.

Steph: It's about time the little Kent showed up.

Jon, floats by Steph on the rooftop: So Kon has done this too?

Steph: All of them thinks I know everything.

Jon: Well, you have the advantage.

Steph just shrugs and then shows Jon the kitten she picked on the street yesterday.

Steph: Here. She's cleaned and I also fed her some of my food at home, but Dami has everything she needs so make sure you handle her with care, okay? Not the Kryptonian strength of yours.

Jon, nods eagerly and takes the kitten from her hands: Got it. Thank you, Stephanie.

Steph, ruffles his hair: Steph is alright, little dude.

[mariasont]

can you do aaron x wife reader who also works in the bau with him & on a case a police officer openly flirts with aaron in front of the team and reader so she stakes her claim on her husband && the team ( mostly derek & pen ) are teasing the two of them for it ??

Marked Territory - A.H

A/N: AHHHHH thinking ab claiming aaron hotchner as ur man has me giggling & kicking me feet

THANK you sooooo much for requesting angel <3 hope you like it!

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

wk: 1.2k

pairings: aaron hotchner x wife!bau!fem!reader

warnings: heavy makeout, jealously

You stood a few feet away with a watchful gaze, arms locked across your chest. The consultant was laying it on thick, her eyelashes sweeping up and down in a practiced rhythm aimed at Aaron. It made you want to throw up. You couldn't help but let out a soft, almost inaudible scoff. The consultant's laughter pierced the quiet, an exaggerated display that felt out of place. Her hand rested on Aaron's arm a moment too long. Your glare could have set the room on fire, you were sure of it, and it only seemed to intensify when Aaron offered a polite, yet distant smile in return.

"Careful there, sugar," Derek joked, sliding into place beside you as he nudged your side. "You're about two seconds from turning this into a crime scene."

You offered a half-glance towards him, "I suppose I can't fault her taste," you said with a forced lightness, even as a twinge of jealously coiled tightly within you, your attention fixed on the hand that dared to claim familiarity with Aaron. "But good taste doesn't come with good sense, apparently."

Penelope swept in with a gasp that could rival a Greek chorus, her eyes wide with a feigned shock. "Wow, I could practically taste your fury from down the hall! Mrs. Hotchner, are we in strategy mode, or should I grab some popcorn?"

You rolled your eyes with a dismissive wave. "You two are ridiculous. What do you expect me to do? Drag her by her hair? Please, I trust Aaron," you stated firmly, because, well, you did. This, however, didn't stop the tiny spark of irritation that flickered within, unbidden and unwelcome, but you squashed it with a laugh. "Besides, if I started a catfight every time someone flirted with him, I'd need my own filing cabinet for all the assault charges."

A glance was all it took for Garcia and Morgan to share their amusement. "Sure, sure," Garcia drawled, her voice dripping in sarcasm.

Morgan's eyebrow arched in silent agreement as he smiled knowingly. "Of course, you're calm. But we both know if that bubble of anger pops, it's going to be one hell of a show."

You tried to ignore it; you really did. You buried your nose in your work, determined to keep your mind off that infuriating woman. You shuffled papers, dove into your case files, and tapped away at your computer with a vigor that doesn't go unnoticed by the team. Every time you caught a glimpse of Aaron, there she was--the consultant--hovering like a shadow. It's almost comical how she mirrored his every move, but you were not laughing.

You found reasons to be anywhere but where Aaron was, taking your coffee break when he's in the break room, opting for the stairs when he took the elevator. It's a dance of avoidance that has you mentally exhausted, but you're trying to channel your inner zen, and being around that woman is doing you no favors.

The office air is thick with tension, a tangible presence that envelops your desk, your focus splintering with every laugh and hushed conversation that drifts over from Aaron's direction. You're the very image of concentration until you see it--the consultant, her proximity invasive, her hand lingering on his shoulder with a familiarity that sears through your veneer of calm. It's the tripping point, the moment your restraint fractures.

You stand, a fluid motion that betrays her anger that charged the room with an energy that has the whole team's attention snapping to you. They recognize the signs--the firm line of your jaw, the fire in your eyes--a rare display that signals an unstoppable force is about to be set in motion.

"Hotch," the name is a clear, firm declaration across the room, a tone you usually reserved for the field. "Can I speak to you for a second?"

The room falls still, a collective breath held by the team as Aaron excuses himself and follows you into his office. The door closes behind them with a soft click, leaving just the two of you. His gaze meets yours, a furrow of worry creasing his brow as he takes in the tempest swirling in your stance.

"Honey, are you alright?" he asks, the professional facade giving way to a soft undertone of worry, as he takes a deliberate step towards you, his eyes searching yours for signs of distress.

With a swift assurance of privacy, your eyes lock on the drawn blinds, and you waste no time diminishing the space between you, hands clasping up to his neck with an urgency that pulls him down to you. Your lips found his in a fervent collision, coaxing a surprised murmur from him. He softly pulled back, his chuckle deep and knowing, as his hands encircled your waist. 

"Honey--I, we're in the office."

His words may have carried a hint of reprimand, but the gentle exploration of his hands across your back drawing you nearer seemed to contradict him. An innocent smile graced your lips as your fingers wove through his hair, eliciting his head tilting back in contentment. "Just missed you is all."

An eyebrow lifted in amused acknowledgement. "Mm, is that so?"

Gently tugging his head closer, your lips crashed against his with a desperate intensity, your hands gripping him as if he were a lifeline.

With deliberate strokes, you raked your fingers through his hair, creating artful disarray. Your hands glided to his tie, tugging it just enough to break the perfect line, then across his jacket, crumpling the fabric with feigned carelessness. Each touch a strategic step in enhancing his unkempt image.

A gentle exhale escaped you as he pressed you back against the desk's edge, his hands forming a cage around you, both protective and possessive.  Your lips curved into a smirk, your teeth capturing his bottom lip and tugging with a teasing pressure, probably a little harder than you should have, causing him to pull back. "Christ, sweetheart."

Instinctively, your hand rose to trace his bottom lip, smoothing over the swollenness your teeth had caused. A soft smile graced your features as you took in the delightful disarray of his appearance. With a satisfied nod, you left a featherlight kiss on his cheek and glided towards the door. "I love you, Mr. Hotchner."

His eyebrows knit together in loving exasperation as he observed your retreat, his hand absentmindedly caressing his lip. God, you kept life interesting. "I love you more, Mrs. Hotchner."

Emerging from Hotch's office, your hair perfectly disordered, a small smirk etched on your lips. You watch as the consultant's eyes stretch wide, a flush of embarrassment covering her cheeks. With a sly wink tossed her way, you glide towards Penelope and Morgan.

"Well, well, well," Morgan drawled, a sly grin spreading across his face as he watched the scene unfold, arms folded confidently over his chest. "I had a feeling those claws were just waiting for the right moment to strike."

"That's our girl! Showing the world whose boss without breaking a sweat." Penelope chirped. "Well, I mean, maybe a little sweat. I'm seriously striving not to speculate about what you two were doing in there."

A playful smirk dances on your lips as you peer over your shoulder at Hotch's door. "Just wait for it," you tease, fingers poised for the dramatic reveal as you count down. "3, 2, 1.."

Right on cue, Hotch steps out, looking every bit as ruffled as you'd intended. His tie hangs crooked, his suit crumpled, and you didn't miss the dark red tint around his bottom lip. The sound of Morgan and Penelope's laughter filled the air as you offered a nonchalant shrug. 

"It's all in the day's work, besties. A girl's got to do what a girl's got to do."

[moon-ttokki-x]

not your doll - (bf!bang chan x reader)

pairing: bf!bang chan x reader

summary: chan comes home upset from the latin american leg of the dominate tour.

genre: reverse comfort, idol!au, angsty, mentions of exhaustion, lots of crying, skz deserve better. reader comforts channie, mentions of delusion, mentions of eating and drinking

a/n: yall who think what happened in brazil is funny, or think it was 'just a joke' or 'fans showing support' get tf off my blog. i don't wanna see or talk to anyone who thinks what happened was okay. leave skz alone, leave chris alone. that man is not your punching bag, he's not responsible for fixing all your fucking problems, keeping everyone happy, or in charge of anyone's but his own happiness. that shit you gotta do yourself. this is so fucking disappointing, i'm ashamed to call myself a stay at the moment. let chris live his damn life and let the kids do the same. fuck yall 'stays'. if you were a real stay you wouldn't be doing this shit.

i stand with skz.

skz masterlist | skz prompt list

"Love?" You call softly, peeking around the bedroom door frame. "Did you wanna come and eat something?"

All you get in response is a muffled 'no' and the sound of shuffling as Chan shifts slightly on the bed. The warm lamplight from the bedside tables spill across his back, highlighting the skin in a rosy, haloed glow.

You sigh and pad over to him softly, sitting on the bed. "I know you might not feel like it, but you need some good food after all that travelling."

Chan shakes his head again, further mussing his unbrushed hair. The curls are squashed and fluffy from him burrowing his head into the pillows, but he doesn't seem to care. Not once has he lifted his head to take a breath of air, and you sigh and push his head gently to the side to do it for him.

He turns his head away, facing the opposite direction; you can hear the shudder from his lungs as he gulps in the fresh coldness of the air; you'd set the thermostat colder, just as he likes it, but he hadn't seemed to take any notice.

You sigh again, running a gentle hand down the soft, albeit slightly dry skin of his back. His duffel bag and suitcase is still in the corner of the room, the zip on his bag half undone as if he'd had the intention of unpacking, but he hasn't.

You'd left him to sort himself out and shower before coming to eat, but it seemed he'd just stripped himself of his outfit and tossed himself on the bed.

Couldn't say you blamed him.

Chan speaks then, low and muffled from the pillow. "I need to go to the company."

"It hasn't even been twenty minutes since you've been home, love," you chide him gently. "Just rest., hmm? All of that can come tomorrow. It doesn't look like you can even move right now..."

Chan groans and burrows his head further into the pillows; you take a soft fistful of his hair and tug it lightly, guiding his head to the side. Your heart lurches.

Chan is crying.

His makeup is smudged; you immediately rest your hands on his shoulders. They're tense as rocks. A black streak of eyeshadow has smeared itself across the white pillowcase, as well as some of his concealer; he doesn't seem to care, and neither do you.

"Channie, my love," you say as gently as you can. You can't hide the worry on your face. "What's wrong?"

That's a useless question. You know exactly what's wrong.

He sits up suddenly, as if to get up, but he collapses on his knees, digging them into the soft sheets. He throws his hands out.

"It's not fair," he cries desperately. "I do everything I can to make things work, and then it all just gets thrown to the side... I can't even open my mouth anymore without my words being twisted..."

You sit there, eyes wide and bewildered, watching this outburst. It's so oddly unlike him to do this, but you know exactly what he's talking about.

"I- The kids, too, they have to deal with all of this, I couldn't wait for us to leave because of what happened at the hotel... They were taking videos of us, videos of one of the kids just standing outside on the balcony, minding his own business, and I couldn't sleep all night because of them chanting, I just-" He hiccups, a tear spilling from each eye like a shattered crystal.

"I just want it all to go right, but it doesn't, and no matter what I do it's not enough," he keels over then, and you pull him into your lap. He lets his lower half kneel over the bed, his face buried in your thighs.

Your vision starts to blur, and a tear drops into his hair, but neither of you take notice. "Channie..."

"I chose this life, Y/n, I chose all of this, I thought I could handle it but I'm not so sure anymore. I want to be happy, and perform without worrying about all of this, I want everyone to just leave me alone..." He's crying freely now, hands gripping your hips as his back shakes, and it's all you can do not to start crying yourself.

That sadness is quickly taken over by a wave of disapproval and anger, anger at the people who dare treat your lover like this, treat his group like performing monkeys at a circus, to be poked and prodded at.

How dare they.

It's not fair. He's right. And you know you can't fix it, make it all better, kiss it healed like you have so many times before. And it's that feeling of helplessness, that overwhelming powerlessness, that makes you lean down and whisper fiercely in Chan's ear.

"Listen to me," you whisper. "It doesn't matter who did it, it doesn't matter if they thought it was right. I can't sit here and tell you I can fix it, because I can't, and neither can you, because it's not your problem, it will never be your problem. You are not their toy. Channie, my love, all you need to do is keep going. That's it, without looking back.

"Forget about those people who pretend to be Stays, who are nothing more than obsessed delusional idiots. I know it's hard. They are so completely and utterly lost in their own worlds, and you can't tie yourself into knots to fix them, because it's impossible.

"I know it hurts, love, and I know it's frustrating, especially for the kids too. None of you deserve to be treated like that, like you have to be filmed and screamed at and all of those other things-"

"But if I don't let them, then they all start hating me," his eyes are teary, utterly exhausted with emotion.

"Chris, you are not a doll," you say firmly, cupping his face. "You are not responsible for everyone's happiness. You are responsible for your own joy. So are the kids. I know you feel like you have to take the weight of the world on your shoulders, but it doesn't mean that you have to take everyone's bullshit alongside it too...

"You are a musician, an artist, not a miracle worker or some sort of magician that can take everyone's troubles away or perform to everyone's unrealistic standards. And as for those idiots who stalked you outside your hotel, JYP is taking measures to deal with it. And he says it's fine if you want to take a break for a while."

"I don't want to," he says quietly, inhaling your scent as you lean down to kiss the crown of his head. "I just wanted to be home with you, and I am."

"Love..."

"Please," he says, quieter. His tears have slowed. "I don't wanna talk about this anymore. It makes me angry, and being angry is exhausting. I'm already exhausted."

You sigh and crack a tiny smile, tapping his cheek lightly. Already you can see his resilience taking effect. Nothing keeps him down for long, your Chan.

"I'll let it go if you promise to come and eat something," you say. "Otherwise, I'm gonna call the kids to spend the night here and they'll eat all of the food I made for you-"

"Okay, okay," he groans, heaving himself upright. "I'm coming. Please don't call them, I've lost enough sleep trying to keep them all in line."

You laugh and kiss him. His lips are slightly chapped, and you tsk softly into the kiss as he stands up, taking you with him.

"Y/n," he murmurs, burning hands slipping to your waist.

"Thought you were too tired," you giggle.

He doesn't respond, instead tugging you closer. You reluctantly pull back and poke his side, making him gasp.

He pulls back too, fighting a sheepish look as you stare pointedly at the bathroom door. "Go shower, then come eat. Now."

He rolls his eyes and steals another kiss to your cheek as he heads towards the bathroom. "Fine."

Chuckling, you make your way to the door, heading to the kitchen. Your feet slow at the door threshold, and you turn to look back at Chan as he busies himself with pulling out a fresh set of clothes from his drawers. Even exhausted and upset, he's still beautiful. Your heart sinks a little as you watch the tear tracks on his face glisten under the lamplight, but you don't bring it up. Instead-

"Channie," you say softly.

He looks up, a black hoodie in one hand.

Your voice is gentle, almost hesitant. "It'll be okay, you know that, right?"

He nods quietly, solemn as you've ever seen him. "I know."

You feel your lips curving into a soft but sad smile. "I love you."

He blinks. "I love you more."

"That's not possible," you say teasingly as you turn and head towards the kitchen.

His laugh echoes through the house.

a/n: none bc i'm fucking pissed.

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[carbonfiction]

Soft car sex w logan?

Thoughts below! 18+ link, mentions of sex, car sex, orgasms, soft sex, mutal orgasms? Kinda naughty kinda fluffy? Idk honestly. Imagine whichever lo you'd like, although i used X1-2!

Masterlist Longer stuff coming soon; just struggling w coherentcy and flow rn besties :(

Specifically car sex that looks like this?

Slow and soft, holding eachother tight. Forfilling a need deep and primal; overwhelmingly emotional, to be close to one another in a way that just a hug or kiss wont do.

You'd both been in that cramped car for too long; not touched eachother for even longer, and tension? Well, tension bubbles over.

But its not the usual; the rough and hard, mind emptying kind of sex the two of you usually have.

No

No this time its more delicate. This is more about keeping close, proving eachother is still there. Still alive. The potential of an orgasm just a bonus.

So thats how it goes.

Car pulled over in a grassy lay by. Cuddled close in the confines of the passenger seat, nowhere near enough cares to worry about how he even fits squashed down in the footwell. Hips delivering soft grinds and slow bucks. All things that wouldnt usually be enough, today sending you into the most passionate and leg trembling orgasm of your life.

Your lips constantly pressed into his skin. His chest, his neck, his mouth- anywhere that'll do. Just as long as your close.

And in turn? In turn logan holds you like you are going to dissapear any second. Jeans and boxers tugged just beneath his length; heavy bulking biceps cradling you. A hand sometimes pressing into the side of your head. Never letting you squirm away; vanish into thin air.

His voice softer than youve ever heard as he talks you through; lathers praise into your skin, careful grunts and groans pressing into your head. All of the 'good girls', the 'you feel so good's', 'so pretty baby', 'love you so much alright's'

You cum together, slow and steady waves crashing against the shores of your bodies. Lips and skin intertwined as he fills you with warmth.

A little piece of him to drool wetly into your fixed panties the moment he chooses to resume his place back behind the wheel; to get you both back home.

[movingthisblogcelestialtarot11]

PAC: Random Messages for You

Hi friends! Thought I’d do something tarot related instead of astrology today. Do enjoy and let me know your feedback down below! <: it means a lot to me and this blog.

Pile 1: Hi there pile 1! You may be experiencing a disconnect within your home life, or not even that but a disconnect to spirituality. There may be a lot of shifts and changes happening in your life at the moment, and it feels as though there’s a lot of tension within you. I’m seeing a box and it keeps folding in on itself, imploding not exploding. All that tension is really sitting within you. I encourage some (I heard bath therapy) so maybe some of you like to take baths with herbs, crystals, and candles. Do that! There may be some uninvited energy around you at the moment. Also some of you need sleep. Rest. Stay off the phone before bedtime, and if you can, meditate! Meditation can look different, for some its sitting in nature, going on a walk, or laying there. There’s a really huge shift here—I don’t think you expected this ending to have happened either with someone you loved or this disconnect either spirituality. I almost feel as if there’s this longing, but also hopeless feeling of: “why? Spirit? Why me?” And I heard: it matters where you are. So, if you’re in an environment where there are people taking advantage of you how can you set boundaries? What do you need? How can you make this process easier for you? It’s likely these people or this place is contributing to your issues at the moment. I also believe spirit wants to let you know that they hear you and are there for you <3 “it matters where you are,” they know, they’ve heard your prayers. If you need confirmation this is it. Journaling can help a ton, there’s a lot of mental energy but in the sense that its squashed. Normally you feel pretty upbeat but it almost feels as if there’s defeat and its a little too silent with all the things you wish to say. Express yourself. Cry it out. I also heard hug it out! So hug it out if you can with a friend, hugging yourself, or hugging a stuffed animal. Yoga may be great for releasing trapped emotions in the body too. I hope you feel better pile 1 <3 thank you for your support and being here.

Pile 2: Hi there pile 2! Welcome! For you I feel as though there’s a lot of green energy around you at the moment. It surrounds you like a garden! I can see your aura with vines, curling up to protect your space and flowers blooming all around. So beautiful! Im also hearing it took a long time to tend to this garden, so you really did take a lot of time to focus on your confidence, healing and transformation. Im also seeing a mermaid emerge from the sea and she’s by the moon. She looks carefree! That’s you. I feel as though you’re learning to vibe with being alone and being okay with being single, although you don’t necessarily have to be. You may be in a position of power in your career now or in the future will be. Im seeing someone grab a book and write down all their ideas and goals—with this determination in mind to make it happen! You may be a fixed sign or have multiple (Leo, Aquarius, Scorpio, Taurus) and suddenly it manifests. This is the kind of success you’ve been building up towards. I also heard this is the success where I feel at peace within myself. Its not necessarily about external factors (although it could be like owning a house—I heard that) its more so the peace that comes with trusting yourself now after all these years. I also see your third eye is open which is revealing to you things that were hidden before. Hidden knowledge. Im seeing spirit is giving you these messages as if its sacred—you’re drinking out of a golden goblet and its this magical juice lmao. Some of ya’ll have very imaginative inner childs and love to concoct stories, so maybe your inner child is out and about! I legit see your inner child dressed like a diva with their sunglasses, sparkly pink kitten heels to slay the day away! So cute. I just feel you have mended that relationship sincerely. You could be a: pisces, pisces 5h/1h, aries, leo, sag, cancer placements. I also see this is an important time for harvesting results. I heard: there is result beyond fear. There is relief beyond fear. On the other side of fear there is joy. So perhaps this has been a mantra for you. I see EFT tapping therapy, so maybe some of you engaged in this. I see breath work, learning to work with your energy. I heard kundalini as well! So some of you may certainly be focused on spirituality and practices. Your inner child is so important—literally hearing their words of awe at the world. Your encouragement means so much to them right now, it’s as if they’re allowing themselves to express themselves again! Thanks pile 2 for being here <3 means a lot to me!

Pile 3: Hey ya’ll it’s 10:10 as I write this so there’s a strong presence of spiritual support! Love that. You guys might be a virgo rising, have virgo placements, virgo 2h, or strong mercurial aspects. An exalted mercury even! I see that for you guys there’s this hazy thick fog. It feels as though your energy is very much guarded and anyone who tries to come in is maybe hit with a wave of confusion. Kind of like they’re stunned. Its kind of cartoonish, and silly. But I see this as a protective mechanism! You guys have been focused on getting your life together especially your finances. You could be budgeting more, spending less, and overall grinding. Keep it on the low and hustling. I also lots of self care so maybe you’ve switched your routine, you’re getting your hair done, nails, lashes, etc. You want to feel your best self and Im literally seeing your spirit team cheer and fist bump. Its like they’ve been wanting you to love yourself and—“finally you got the message,” is what I heard 😭 I’m also hearing “pump it up,” I know its a song, its pop music, really catchy. There’s a lot of happy bright energy surrounding you and I think you’re really feeling yourself. And I think that anyone who tries to disturb your peace I literally see you putting on sunglasses to act like they don’t exist. I feel like you guys are also really funny which people don’t expect—you have a very dry humor and might be great and stand up comedy. I also feel your phone is filled with a bunch of memes to go on the daily. It’s on butt dial at this point. I feel as though you appear intimidating but you’re really funny, chill, and grounded. You may have taurus/Capricorn placements as well. Lots of earth! Maybe all your big 3 is earth. I feel as though you’re being told to enjoy yourself and have fun! Let loose and chuck the ruled aside momentarily. It wouldn’t hurt to let go. I think for so long you’ve been hustling and grinding—so its time to celebrate how far you came! You may attracting suitors or attention is what I heard lol, lots of eyes on you! Especially through this transformation. I see you going from alone to suddenly everyone is around you. So maybe you’re graduating, getting that promotion, it’s your birthday, or there’s an event coming up! This is really going to help you feel your best self <3 Im also hearing euro pop music, so maybe ya’ll are into that. And dream of euro pop blasting in clubs (bring back this era) I dont know if you know Inna and her music. “Hot” by inna is playing! But thanks pile 3 for being here! Sincerely appreciate it all. Your feedback means a lot to me.

Extra

Paid Readings 🤍

[daydreamgoddess14]

Sweat

Declan O'Hara x f!reader

(little mention of Tag x Rupert)

~1k words, no real warnings - the 'c' word is used once.

While I wait for my man Jack Lowden to return from war (filming season 6 of Slow Horses), I thought I'd dip my little toe into a very short Declan O'Hara one-shot 😬

If you're reading The Escape Artist, fear not, the final TWO chapters are coming this week! Yes, of course I do have other prompts to get on with, but I was in spin class last night, and every time my instructor shouted, "Ride, ride, ride" all I saw was Declan 😅 The moustache would make a wonderful handle as well 🤭

Another bead of sweat drips from your forehead onto the towel.

“Ride, ride, ride, ride, don't stop ladies,” the instructor, an Adonis of a man, coaches you through the pumping music. Next to you, Taggie blows a stray curl out of her face.

“This is torture,” she hisses through gritted teeth.

She isn't wrong.

The newly installed ‘Bicycle Hub’ has raised eyebrows at the local leisure centre, with few expected to actually attend.

The Hub overlooks the squash courts, not that you'd know.

They were so filled with cigarette smoke you could hardly see a thing at all.

From the front row of bikes, you had a prime view looking down.

Usually older gentlemen with portly stomachs and red wine noses who were one play away from a heart attack.

“Oh look, it's daddy.” Taggie peers down. “And Rupert.”

Even through the glowing pink caused by the exercise class you can see her blush.

The two men look up and catch you watching them.

A real shame you couldn't lip read.

Not that they'd be saying anything about Tag, Rupert wouldn't dare in front of Declan.

You were fair game though.

Taggie waves but you don't dare break your rhythm on the bike for fear you'd fall right off.

“Concentrate, ladies,” Adonis warns. “Left, right, left, left, right, right. Stay with the beat, ride, ride, ride.”

You tear your eyes away from the squash court and look back at your bike, regretting it instantly.

“My legs are killing me,” you mutter, feeling your thighs burn.

You go back to looking at the squash game Declan and Rupert are playing, it looks more like they're trying to hit each other with the ball rather than play to the rules.

Each of them roaring with laughter whenever they make contact.

“I'm sure that's not how you're supposed to play,” Taggie grumbles.

“Could be worse, they could be just hitting each other with the racket,” you suggest.

Your breath comes in short gasps now, your stamina rapidly declining.

The rhythmic sounds of the squash ball combine with the squeak of running shoes, the beat of the music, and the hum of the fixed wheels of the bike.

A cacophony of sounds.

You find yourself watching their game more intently, it powers you through the changes in resistance on the bike.

You tilt your head to brush your earlobe against your shoulder and catch another drip of sweat.

As you do so, another works its way down the side of your neck and down into your cleavage.

“And down, catch your breath. Next, we're going to run,” Adonis tells the class.

You let your legs slow down a little and take the opportunity to run the towel over your face and take a long drink of water.

Your chest heaves.

As you put your water bottle back on the machine, you automatically look again at the squash court, this time catching Declan watching you.

You notice the quick lift of his eyebrow as he stares.

He licks his lips slowly, deliberately, and then smiles.

“OK ladies, stand up -”

“On the bike?”

“Yes, madame, it's time to run.”

“I don't understand, I'll fall off!” You think it's Valerie Jones who's protesting, but you've yet to look away from Declan.

Holding his gaze, you do as Adonis asks and you stand up, straightening your legs on the pedals.

Even from this distance you can tell where he's looking.

Your tight lycra crop top pulls your breasts together and his eyes are drawn like a magnet.

When you lean forward on the bike, he wipes his hand over his mouth.

The next track starts building in momentum and so do you, each rotation of the wheels making you bounce a little more vigorously.

Neither of you has looked away yet, goodness knows where Rupert has gone.

Taggie is mercifully distracted, a tight frown of concentration on her face.

There's a wicked glint in Declan's eye and you tilt your head to the side, a silent question.

Whatever he's about to do in response, he doesn't.

Rupert is back, distracting him, talking to him.

He looks away at last, but you can tell it's under duress.

“Thank you ladies, great class for today!” Adonis is off the bike and leading his own round of applause.

You roll your eyes at Taggie and grimace.

“He's single! So I've heard,” she tells you with a giggle.

“No thanks, his biceps are huge! He'd suffocate me!”

You leave the class very much in need of a shower and as you make your way down to the changing rooms, you pass the squash courts.

Taggie's looking out for Rupert, you can tell.

Desperate for a moment alone with him.

You spot him first, by the water fountain, and nudge her in his direction.

His face lights up at the sight of her.

"Looks like you ladies have been getting all hot and sweaty,” he grins slyly.

You leave them to talk, and open the glass door to the court.

Taggie and Rupert are in full view of most of the leisure centre so he only has his words to charm with.

Inside the court, Declan has been watching you through the glass.

“Water?” You offer, holding out your bottle.

“Prefer whiskey,” he grins.

“So do I.”

“I'd also prefer an exercise that'll leave us both breathless," he says quietly.

There's a line you're about to cross but neither of you seems to care.

“So do I.” You repeat equally quietly.

“Sure I can find a much more comfortable seat for you as well.”

The lilt of his accent runs over your body.

He looks through the door but Taggie and Rupert are out of sight, for once, he doesn't seem to care.

He takes a step towards you, as if he's about to whisper in your ear.

Instead, he drags his tongue from your throat to your earlobe.

“You taste delicious.”

Your power of speech is non-existent.

Your hands shake as the adrenaline from the class and from his proximity mingle together.

He kisses your temple, your hairline damp with sweat.

“I think it's time to put a stop to this little game, don't you?” he murmurs.

You can only nod as your body trembles and your cunt clenches.

And then you hear Rupert in the atrium outside.

Declan takes a measured step away from you as Taggie arrives, though neither of you can stop staring.

“Ugh, let's go, I feel disgusting,” she pulls a face. Rupert clearly thinks quite the opposite.

“Yes, let's. Enjoy your game, gentlemen.” You smile brightly.

“I certainly am,” Declan responds, the low rumble of his laughter following you from the court.

You can still feel the heat of his stare as you pile into the car to leave.

You can still feel the weight of his body on yours as you climb into bed that night.

[trickgenderr]

baaaaaabe i love your writing so much, give some of cordell walker x male reader please???

Save a horse, ride a cowboy.

pairing: Cordell Walker x male!reader

theme: just some headcanons

cw: mature/nsfw content, size difference, mention of possessive behavior, a little bit of degration

i have not watched the show yet! so sorry if this is out of character :'D. but YAY my first ask!!

english is not my first language!! :3

Cordell Walker, who watches closely whenever you took his hat from his head and put it on your own, his expression not changing even as you grin at him. He doesn't even mind your antics and turns bacj to di whatever he was doing before.

Cordell Walker who makes you bounce on his cock the same night, his hands behind his head, watching his hat tipping off your head with every roll of your hips. Occasionally, he reaches out to fix the hat before returning back to his position, leaning back against the headboard, just watching you and the way your legs start shaking.

Cordell Walker, who's very overprotective, always wants to know where you are going and who you go with. He knows you're a grown man, but he doesn't want to lose someone important all over again. He doesn't stop asking, even if it annoys you a little.

Cordell Walker, who teaches you how to handle a gun or rifle (if you didn't know that already). Or watches you as you ride a horse for the first time. (Which wasn't really hard after a lot of practice on Walker heueheuheu)

Cordell Walker, who's much taller than you (the man is 6'4.) and loves the way you get on your tippy toes whenever you try and give him a kiss or try and whisper something into his ear.

Cordell Walker, who also likes to throw you around or lifts you up as if you don't weigh anything, manhandling you the way he wants to. Of course, only because he knows you like it just as much as he does.

Cordell Walker, who definitely has a size kink. Not just in height, but he also likes to compare dick sizes with you. If you're smaller than him, he'll definitely be a little degrating and mean about it. But he makes it up with a good blowjob.

Cordell Walker, who puts his whole body weight on top of yours after some good sex, probably falls asleep and leaves you squashed underneath him.

Cordell Walker, who loves to cuddle. He would never admit it out loud, but he loves having his arms around you, his hand gently roaming and squeezing your body. He whispers sweet, nothings into your ear as he squashes you more and more into his chest.

Cordell Walker, who loves seeing you in his clothes. He watches you closely when you put on his jeans and grins when he notices that the flannel shirt you are wearing is his. It suits you, makes him feel warm and fuzzy.

Cordell Walker, who especially enjoys slow sex. He keeps his hands on your waist, your legs wrapped around his hips, as his eyes switch between your face and the way his cock disappears into your hole.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Helper II

Lia Wälti x Child!Reader

Leah Williamson x Child!Reader

Summary: You're sick

"Hey, no," Auntie Leah says sternly, picking up your kitchen stool and placing it up on the counters.

Usually, you use it so you can be tall enough to reach the sink to do the dishes or to help Mummy. But Auntie Leah doesn't let you on it to tackle the mountain of dishes in the sink just like how Mummy didn't let you join her this morning picking up all the leaves in the garden.

All because you had the sniffles and a fever last night.

It's gotten a bit worse now because your head is pounding but you think you're still well enough to do your chores.

Mummy and Auntie Leah don't agree so you're stuck doing nothing until it's time to go to training.

You hope that you get better soon so you can go back to helping out because you don't know what to do with yourself if you can't help and your half-finished puzzle on the coffee table is an afternoon activity and not a morning one.

That hope is promptly squashed when you throw up all over the living room floor ten minutes before you have to leave.

It's awful because you've made a big mess and Mummy won't let you fix it by cleaning it up yourself. She holds you in her arms and rocks you back and forth while Auntie Leah cleans it all up.

She doesn't even let you flick the light switch on and off twice like you usually do so this day is going to go wrong so badly for you.

You remain sick even after Mummy gives you medicine and some juice to hold you over.

You feel terrible, a big knot in your tummy as you curl into her arms while she carries you into the building.

"Guppy?" Your favourite puzzle partner Codi asks," Are you feeling okay?"

"Guppy's sick today," Leah tells her," She threw up this morning."

Codi makes a sympathetic noise before wishing you well and going back to changing.

You whine when Mummy sets you down in her cubby and you keep whining when she backs off to go grab her bottle from the adjoining room.

That's usually your job.

"Here, guppy," Auntie Leah says," Have more juice. It'll make you feel better."

It's a nice lie to tell you and it brings a bit of comfort so that's why you don't snitch on Auntie Leah to Mummy for lying to you.

You guzzle down your juice and Mummy returns with her bottle. She changes quickly before checking your temperature again.

"I'm sorry, guppy," She says and you already know what she's going to say," But I don't think you're well enough to help out the staff today."

Your eyes well with tears.

"Please, Mummy!" You beg," I promise I won't throw up again!"

"It's not that, guppy," She says," You're just not well enough. You need to rest today. Not do anything else."

"But-But!"

"I'm sorry," Mummy continues," But you're not changing my mind. We'll make sure you've got everything you need but you can't help today."

You sniffle but don't argue anymore.

Mummy gives you a blanket to wrap around your shoulders and a sports drink to keep your energy up and a little puzzle that doesn't quiet lay flat on the grass which is kind of annoying.

There's a sick bucket next to you as well that you'll make sure to use if you feel like you're going to throw up rather than ruin the pitch like you ruined the living room.

"How are you feeling?" Auntie Leah asks.

Her and Mummy have been taking it in turns to check in on you and you sniffle.

"Better," You say," Can I help now?"

"Sorry, guppy," She replies," But you know Lia's not going to change her mind. You've just got to focus on resting today. Maybe tomorrow."

"Please? I'll be good!"

"You're already so good, guppy," Leah assures you," But your body needs time to rest and recover like when I hurt my knee. You need to do the same."

You don't like that answer but you're a good girl so you do what you're told. You don't help. You stay with your blanket and your energy drink and your snacks until Mummy comes to collect you.

She gives you another round of medicine that you take dutifully before rechecking your temperature.

You wait and Mummy smiles.

"Looking good, guppy," She says," Maybe another day or two and you'll be better in no time!"

"Really?"

"Really really," Mummy confirms," I think this calls for opening your new puzzle at home."

You perk up at that. "Can Codi come too? I want to do it with her!"

"Go and see if Codi's free tonight and we'll see."

[mediumgayitalian]

prev

-- -- --

When Cecil walks into the infirmary, bleeding sluggishly and grinning sheepishly, he notices three things in quick succession:

1) It is crowded.

2) It is ridiculously loud.

3) It reeks, absolutely reeks, of peppermint.

His smile fades fast.

He moves, elbowing through the throng of neon orange, to the nurse's station, shoving a poor, innocent satyr to lean against the counter, searching. It takes a minute to find a shock of green hair under the actual piles of paperwork.

"Kayla," he says urgently, excavating her just enough to make eye contact. "Where's Will?"

"Uuuuuuuugggggggghhhhhh," she groans, reburying herself. "Fix your own problems! Why is everyone always so concerned with their own mortality!"

"Well," responds Cecil, not sure how to respond to that. "Well, it's urgent. I need to talk to him."

"So do five bajillion others! Get in line!"

Five bajillion others do appear to be in some kind of squashed up, unserious line. Cecil is in the infirmary a lot -- for a myriad of reasons, but for alibi purposes it's because that's where his best friend essentially lives -- but he doesn't see crowds like this often. At least, not this lively. Usually when there's a crowd like this it's accompanied by silence and strict suicide watch.

"What's going on?"

Kayla groans again. There are bags under her eyes, Cecil notices. This is unusual.

"It's the full moon, I guess."

"And -- what, vampirism is on the rise?"

"That's werewolves, you dumbass. And no."

She looks at him like he is dumb. Cecil stares back intently, because he is. She will have to use her words.

She does, rolling her eyes. (Jeez. He does not envy the head counsellors at this camp. If he had to attitude manage thirteen-year-olds for even one hour he would kill himself.) "Injuries and illnesses increase during full moons, for some reason. Although this is worse than normal."

"Okay." The general crowd noise coalesces, several people shrieking over -- something. Cecil winces, nodding to himself. Fuck. Fuck. "Okay, that's -- thanks, Kayla. I'll find him."

"If you see him, tell him I want a raise! By four trazillion percent."

"I'll -- pass that on."

He pushes his way back through the crowd, and it's harder this time. He can see three more people slip through the doorway, and it's ridiculous. Most of them aren't even scratched. He sees a group of Ares kids in permaglitter, glaring at a group of giggling Aphrodite kids with no visible malady. Annabeth Chase sits rolling her eyes on a free cot, holding her broken wrist, her boyfriend fussing over her. Nine of Cecil's own siblings are sprawled about with various gashes and bruises. He nearly trips over Clovis Yanam, who is passed out in the middle of the floor, snoring.

"J -- Jesus," Cecil curses, swiping a hand down his face. The smell of peppermint is worse, somehow, when he takes his hands away; his eyes burn anew and even his nostrils feel singed. He would be convinced it was all in his head if there weren't several people with their shirts over their noses.

"Reeks, huh," comments Malcolm Pace, as Cecil rushes past. "Smelt it all the way across the common. Must be the Vicks."

It's not. It's not the fucking Vicks, and Cecil knows that, because this smell is more familiar than it should be and he hates it, he can't fucking stand it. This peppermint is sharp and oily and comes out of a vial that Will keeps in his pocket and has since he was nine. This peppermint means quiet. This peppermint means ice packs and cold compresses, this peppermint means a still cabin and crying audible through pillows.

He trips over a bedpost and has to bite his lip, hard, to keep from shouting. He takes a second, burying his face in his hands, and breathes, in, out. He lets the noise wash over him. He plants his heels on the old floorboards, swallowing hard. In. Out. He squeezes his burning eyes.

He exhales, long and heavy, dropping his hands and turning his face to the ceiling. He opens his eyes slowly, blinking, focusing on the popcorned white.

"Alright," he whispers to himself. "Alright, we're good. We're good."

He isn't usually this stressed. He isn't usually forcing himself to unclench his jaw, blinking back frustrated tears. He doesn't usually jump to 100 this quickly.

The peppermint isn't usually this strong.

Right as he is about to stick a washcloth in a bottle of rubbing alcohol and clear out the building, consequences be damned, he catches a flash of blond hair. He beelines toward it, praying to his father for speed, and has to stop a good three feet from his swaying friend, nearly gagging at the potency of the smell.

"Will," he manages, breathing through his mouth. It burns there, too. "Will, dude, you gotta call it quits."

Will continues -- something. Doing something. Cecil walks around him, elbowing at least two people out of the way, and grabs both his wrists, waiting until he stops struggling.

"Get off."

"Will. I'm serious. Enough is enough."

Any other day, Will would twist out easy. Cecil knows it. Lotta folks think Will is some -- some goober, who can't hold his own, but Cecil grew up with the fucker. He was there when he gained two clean feet of height in one summer. He was there as the muscle developed. It was infuriating. He knows just how nasty Will's left hook can be.

He also knows the migraines make him weak.

"People. Busy. Get off."

He tugs, again, and Cecil lets him, following him closely behind. He stumbles towards the nearest cot, smiling weakly at Lacy. She smiles back, looking worriedly at Cecil as soon as Will focuses on her banged up knee. Cecil shrugs.

"...Hey, Will."

Will hums.

"You, uh. There's a whole lot of aura coming off you right now."

Will snorts. Cecil smiles, slightly, at the accidental pun, shaking his head when Lacy lifts an eyebrow.

"'M okay."

He coughs as soon as he says it, scratching at his throat. Lacy doesn't blink, because there's no way she knows what that means, but Cecil sighs, resisting the urge to smack his head against the wall.

He's not -- Cass. He's not Lee. He doesn't know how to make Will listen to him, how to make Will care. He doesn't get it, either. He twisted an ankle slightly at the beginning of the summer and has been leveraging it to get out of chores for three and a half straight weeks. He's never had migraines, not like Will's, but he's seen enough of the tensing, of the twitching eyes, the grey faces and swaying on his feet to make a pretty educated guess.

Sometimes, he hates being a half-blood.

"It's not that bad," Lacy says quietly, snapping Cecil's attention to her. She places a gentle, manicured hand over Will's, brushing a thumb over his knuckles. "I can get ice and rest up, hey? You look exhausted. Maybe it's time to rest."

Will hesitates. Cecil holds his breath, hoping. Maybe it's just Cecil. He's never been particularly good with his words. Maybe he'll --

A weak, pulsing flash of light envelops Lacy's knee, fading almost as quickly as it came. Will sways. Lacy frowns.

"Honestly, Will. I shouldn't have even come in."

"No, it's -- fine." He stands, and nearly stumbles right into a shelf, Cecil darting out at the last second to steady him. "You should always come in when you're hurt."

He walks off, or tries to. Cecil follows, holding firm to his wrist, waving apologetically to a still-frowning Lacy as they drift by.

"Okay," he says, when she finally heads out. "Okay, dude, enough is e --"

"Is what, Cecil?"

Will wrenches his hand free, whirling around to face him.

"Is it time? For me to head back to the cabin and crawl in bed and just sit in pain for the next several hours? The next however many more days? To just curl up and cry? I'm fucking -- I'm tired, Cecil. I'm tired of crying, I'm tired of throwing up -- throwing up fucking nothing, by the way -- I'm tired of feeling my heart beat in my fucking eyeballs I'm tired of seeing flashing lights and passing out and I'm just fucking -- I'm done! I don't want any more of it! I just want it to stop, and it won't stop, so I just want to work! I want to do something that isn't sitting in -- in fucking peppermint!" He pauses, breathing in deep, holding it, screwing his eyes shut. "I fucking hate peppermint!"

The force of his shout echoes through the crowded infirmary.

Cecil stares at him, wide eyed, as he puts his face in his hands, drops to the floor, and starts to cry. Quiet, shaking sobs, shoulders wracking, tears leaking out between his fingers; Cecil, lump in his throat, slides down across to him.

Horsehooves echo in the thick silence.

"Anyone who is not actively dying," calls Chiron softly, "get out. Clovis, you stay."

Murmurs and footsteps swell as dozens of people. for perhaps the first time in their lives, quickly and quietly follow orders. Cecil keeps his eyes trained on his best friend, blinking away the blurriness of his eyes. Two sets of footsteps approach the edge of Cecil's vision, one horse, one slippered.

"May we sit?"

Cecil doesn't move. Will, after a moment, nods.

"How many days, now, child?" asks Chiron kindly. He reaches out a strong hand and rests it gently on Will's head, sliding his fingers through dull curls.

Will holds up a hand, five fingers splayed.

"Fucksake," Cecil mutters, scratching his nose. "Say something day one, dude."

"To what end?" Will's voice is muffled in his knees. "You gonna snap your fingers and magic it away?"

"Something can be done," Chiron chides. "Five days is too long to be in pain, Will."

"It's psychosomatic and you fucking know it," Will snaps. For a second his eyes are clear, glaring as he lifts his head, but it fades just as quickly. The exhaustion leeches the color right out of him. "If it could be healed it would have been healed when Lee was around."

"Just because your brother couldn't fix it does not mean it cannot be fixed."

"Yeah, right."

Will winces again, hands flying up to press against his eyes. Cecil looks over at the centaur, resting his cheek on his knee.

"If it helps, he's always this mean when he's hurting," he offers. He smiles slightly at the scowl he can feel Will sending his way. "It's kind of nice. I never get to see bitchy Will."

"Bitchy Will is the only Will you're ever going to know for the rest of your life, you quisling."

"Quisling?!"

Chiron smiles wryly. "You have your father's inkling for the dramatics, don't you." He shakes Clovis, who has passed out against his flank, gently awake. "Up, my boy. We need your skills."

"Sure thing," Clovis yawned. "How long you wanna be out? A week? Two?"

Will peeks a wary eye open.

"I have a shift tomorrow morning."

"Not happening," Cecil and Chiron say together.

Will sighs. "Sleeping won't make them stop."

"But you won't feel it when you're out."

"...Fine." He lifts his head up, slowly, and scooches over to Clovis. "No more than a day."

Two, Chiron mouths, over his shoulder. Clovis nods.

"Just close your eyes," Clovis says. "Good. Imagine a sheep, in front of you. Can you do that?"

"Yeah."

"'Kay. Hold it gently, around the forelegs. Grab a pair of clippers."

Will's hands curl carefully.

"Imagine shearing it, okay? Stripe by stripe."

Will obeys, too tired to keep fighting. He moves his hands slowly, rhythmically, and Clovis keeps a careful hand over his head. Slowly, the shadow from his hand grows over Will's head, covering his shoulders, his arms, his hips. Will's movements start to slow, and then, as the shadow ghosts over his knees, stop, and he tilts suddenly forward. Cecil darts out to catch him.

"Thanks," he whispers, throat dry. "I, uh, can't carry him, though. He's six-two and I have a twisted ankle."

"I'll get him."

Chiron stands slowly, careful of his hurt leg, and hovers for a minute, hands on Will's shoulders.

"We will have to figure out a lot more than this," he murmurs, exhaling deeply. "You cannot go on like this, child."

He picks Will up with careful, paternal hands, twisting to rest him gently on his back. He stands so that his hooves don't creak the old floorboards.

"Thank you, Cecil."

Old, serious brown eyes are turned suddenly upon him, and Cecil looks back, frozen.

"He needs someone to look out for him. You do well."

The centaur turns and walks lightly out of the infirmary, ducking through the low entryway.

The smell of peppermint fades into something sweet and gentle.

[cattonicdragon]

Man your work is great :D could you do Astrid hiccup tuffnut ruffnut and snotlout with a small jolly reader(4 feet tall) that riders screaming death or a titan wing catastrophic quaken.(I just like the this short joyful person next a GIANT creature that looks like it squash you like a bug it's just a bit funny to me XD)

Astrid,hiccup,the twins(separately) and snotlout x reader who’s a short ball of joy and rides a screaming death

Decided to do screaming death cus I love them

<<WARNINGS:abit of angst,snotlout not likeing spitelout,mentions of injuries(dragons mainly),snotlout needs a hug,spelling errors probally>>can you tell I don’t know how to do warnings?

HAS BEEN PROOF-READ

Astrid

She is absolutely stunned

Your so tiny.and yet you managed to tame the screaming death

She nearly had a heart attack the first time stormfly and the screaming death play fought,she still nearly dose after she gets used to them

She knows your screaming death won’t hurt stormfly,but as the good dragon rider she is she gets worried for her dragon

She may not admit it but she’s extremely cocky over the fact that one of the dragon riders on their side managed to tame the screaming death,with is defiantly no easy feat 💀

She genuinely questions you on how on earth you managed to tame the screaming death

She’s amused by the size difference between you and your dragon

Little ball of joy and a island destroying demon/pos

Due to your small size she can easily pick you up

She picks you up under your arms and you can only dangle there

You’ll just have to hope your screaming death is feeling nice and might scare Astrid to put you down

Don’t think you being small is all fun though.

Is stormfly is particularly pissed off by the screaming death she will pick you up by the scruff of the neck and run/fly off with you

A chase will ensue,that may or may not have to end up with hiccup and/or having to sort it out

She admires how you can stay so sweet and joyful

She may or may not admit it but she adores your personality,in hard times you can seem like a bright light in a endlessly dark hallway,and she couldn’t be more grateful

Hiccup

Also nearly has a heart attack

The screaming death defiantly had some bad blood with him and toothless

But with you,it’s like a big cat/dog and almost completely docile

How?

Ok well maybe the fact that he made the screaming death plummet face first into a rock wouldn’t help

Your tinny compared to hiccup and even tinier compared to the screaming death

He worries that you may become a large target for dragon hunters

Toothless and the screaming death,don’t exactly get along

I mean years of hatred and bad blood isn’t going to fix easily…

But the you and hiccup will find them curled up together

You don’t understand them but that’s ok

He asks if he can examine the screaming death,or maybe ride it.riding is a less likely option though 💀

He will wince or cringe if he sees any scars or damage he may have caused

He can relate to you being positive and joyful alot

But can also be abit jealous,how can you stay so joyful even in some of the most stressfull situations

He’s so unimaginabley grateful that your there for him during the entire time

You decrease his stress tones

It also feels like a weight off of his shoulders with the burden of having such a great relationship with a endangered and powerful dragon,you’ll stick together and get through it though

He also picks you up,and makes fun of your height.

Ruffnut

Probally one of the only ones who dosnt almost have a heart attack

If anything she’s jealous that you managed to tame such a cool and destructive dragon

Begs asks if she can have a ride just one please?

Will try everything and anything with the screaming death

You will need to supervise 24/7 sorry not sorry

She brags about you all the time

She loves your short size and will toss you over her shoulder/hold you like a log

She’s teases you about your size WAY to much,please tell her to put a sock in it T.T

Barf,belch and the screaming death become the faces of Loki day

Barf and belches personality might have slightly affected your dragon but oh well

Loves to cause distruction with you

If you don’t go on a mission she’s not going either,even if tuffnut begs.

She enjoys your joyful personality and loves that there’s someone that slightly carefree

She also feels like she can be more reckless now that there’s a island destroying dragon on the riders team

You will have to keep an eye on her,or lecture her.either works

Will Loki you hard,unless the screaming death is around.she dosnt want to become 🧀 today thanks

Tuffnut

Also dosnt get a heart attack

Instead he gets destructive zoomies

He begs you,like hands and knees and everything

For one chance to either ride or cause destruction with the screaming death

Jokes on you though if you say yes to either,the other will happen anyways.there’s no winning in this situation sorry

Surprisingly knows when to give the screaming death space

He’s reckless but sensible

Will bribe the screaming death to go on destructive trips constantly

He makes fun of your height,more than ruffnut

Chiken and the screaming death surprisingly get along the best,unlikely but wholesome friendship for the win

Chiken by proxy loves you a lot aswell

So if tuffnut loses chiken he checks you and the screaming death basically first

Somehow carries around a stall with him so you can get to high places when need be

Will kick ruffnut off barf and belch for a ride if you asked

Man Is whipped for you

Don’t leave tuffnut alone with the screaming death though,either he or someone else will die

He at some point becomes something of a second rider to the screaming death,it’s a lot of bribing and treats though and also the fact that he encourages the screaming deaths destructive tendencies

He likes your joyful ness,will also try to bribe you to help him get out of situations he gets himself into

Snotlout

Probally faints during first encounter

Is very worried for everyone’s saftey,it’s a similar situation as to when they took in the injured singetail

Complains a lot about the fact that allowed to bring the SCREAMING DEATH to berk/the edge

He admires you Aton

Your short,shorter then him and look at you go!

Gets a bit jealous of you and may think he’s not good enough

Give him a hug :(

One time during the longest day he ended up snuggling against the screaming death,and survived.after that day they grew abit closer which was sweet

He enjoys your optimism and it’s a good balance since he can be abit pessimistic sometimes

If his dad ever comes to visit and your around he finds himself gravitating towards you,he feels safe with you

Hook fang and the screaming death like tug of war.why?,who knows

They like to play catch with each other aswell,again no idea why

He asks if you want to ride with him and hookfang quite a lot,it’s his way of non verbally getting recognition and validation

He finds himself being a lot less pessimistic when your around and just in general,your jolly personality is infective and effective

He likes to just hug you when he’s feeling down of tired

He picks you up places you in places where you can’t get down easily

He pisses off the screaming death.quite a lot

He likes writing books for you and indulging in your hobbies aswell

Shows you off a ton,as long as you don’t mind though,he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable

He likes knitting things for you

He also likes it when you both are in the same room,you can be doing something different or even just being quiet,as long as your there he doesn’t mind

He likes to spar alot aswell,but he never lets it get to the point where either of you get hurt

He’s very protective of you despite the fact he dosnt really need to be

He just cares alot

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Renovations

No warnings. Please comment and reblog!

house husband! Geralt x wife! reader

🏠🏠🏠

The house is quiet as you enter. More than usual. Your husband is a man of solace and silence, but you can often sense him when you get in. He's always around.

You put your bag on the bench, the one he built with the shoe rack below, and slip of your heels. You tuck them beneath and face the desolate house. The top of the stairs is eerie and the hallways leads to the mysterious unknown. You're building fantasies again. He always said you let your mind wander.

You peek into the front room. He's not there. Everything is in its place. The TV is black, the remote exactly as you left it. He doesn't watch it much.

You stop by the dining room next. A fresh bouquet from the garden but nothing out of sorts. Is he not there?

You get to the kitchen and sigh. He's probably gone to grab something he forgot. Oh well. You're patient. That patience needles at him.

You open the fridge and take out a can of sparkling water. You crack the tab and the ceiling groans. You wince before you can take a sip. You tilt your head and listen to the house.

Hm. Maybe it's the tree brushing against the roof. You slurp up the bubbles and hear another groan. This time it's not the house. You look up.

There's a soft tap on the ceiling. A steady knocking. You stare in confusion.

"Hello..." Geralt's deep timbre comes muffled through the plaster.

"Hello," you say back to the ceiling.

"How was your day?" He asks.

You snort, "fine. Are you in the ceiling?"

Silence. Another shift.

"Technically, I'm in the floor. Of the second level."

You set the can down carefully, "should I ask why or how?"

"Don't think it matters," he grunts. "It's itchy."

You could devolve into sheer madness. Your husband is as stober and stoic as a statue, but in that instance, you can't help but picture him squashed between the walls, pillowed by the itchy insulation.

"Do you need help?" You ask.

Another pause.

"Yes."

You smile while you can. You need to get it out while he can't see you. You smother your mouth and rush out of the kitchen. You stop at the bottom of the stairs and let yourself shake in a silent fit of laughter. You exhale and make yourself go up.

"So how..." you slow as you see the floorboards, pried away from the planks. "Ah."

"There was a draught and I thought... well, I think I've fixed the problem, really."

"I know you have. You always do," you assure him. You see his sock as his foot wiggles.

"Are you mocking me?"

You nearly choke, "nope."

"It sounds like you're laughing."

"Not anymore," you assure him. "So... what do I do?"

"Just need a tug," he points his foot. "If you don't mind."

You get down and grip his ankle. You lean back on your knees and grunt. He pushes backwards and slides a few inches. You try again. It's slow work as he wriggles then hisses.

"Are you stuck?" You heave on him as hard as you can.

He huffs and snarl. "I can get out, I'm just... resting."

"Sure," you pat the back of his leg.

"Just--" He grunts and shimmies back a little further. As he does, you pinch his backside. He growls. 

"Can't help myself," you smack him for good measure and grab the crowbar. 

You stand and line it up with another footboard. You pop it loose as Geralt grunts. "What are you doing?"

"Getting you out," you assure him. "As always, saving you hide."

He sighs. You diligently uncover his top half. He pushes himself up and looks at you. "My dear wife, I don't deserve you."

"Uh huh..." you look around. "So, looks like you have something to do tomorrow."

[minzart]

Beggars can't be choosers (4)

Ao3 - Prev - Next

Decepticons & Reader(GN), Ravage & Reader(GN), Megatron & Reader(GN)

You find an "automatic" tank busted in the middle of the night, and as the good millitar Mechanic that you are, you fix it.

Or, the Decepticons don't have a trained doctor(yet), and you just volunteered as a substitute by their leaders' logic and standards

"Optimus Prime!?" Megatron roars as he paces around the main hagar

"Energon operation: half a failure" Soundwave speaks, holding with his hands Ravage, the feline minicon struggling to keep awake, bleeding energon "Base location: still secured"

"But by an inch Soundwave! By an inch! Have not one of you thought of calling for backup?!"

"It's not our fault that speedy here thought he could take on the Prime alone!" Rumble says gesturing to the Reflector trio and points accusatory at Skywarp

"You should keep your mouth shut! I didn't thought nothing!" The purple seeker stomps to were the minicon is and treatens to squash him

The purple bot jumps out of the way "oh yeah?! I remember you saying it would be an easy win!"

"You also said that! Don't play dumber than you already are!"

"You are stupid!"

"Silence!" A blast came between the arguing bots, both promptly shut up and formed position "what was your designed mission?"

"... locate Energon signature close by... sir" both answered quietly

"And once found, what was to be done?"

"Report"

"And what did you do?"

"... not... that?"

"You engaged in direct combat with the leader of the autobots! Exactly! Very good! And on top of that he chased you both for miles on miles because someone didn't check if they had been followed! Look what a briliant plan you two made"

As the tyrant voice grew in anger, Rumble hid behind Skywarp and the seeker started to frantically look around and coil in himself

"If it weren't for Thundercrackers patrol you both would have been captured or dead" He vents, a thin line of smoke floating around his helm "Starscream..."

The purple robots finally relax, Skywarp kicks Rumble "get off"

The red seeker vents to himself, and joins the middle of the hagar, preparing himself to what is to come, typical of the tyrant "yes Lord Mega-"

Megatron grabs the seeker firmilly by the troat "get your seeker under protocol"

He releases the flyer, and turns to Soundwave "get Ravage to the medical wing, and after, have a talk with your caccette"

"Yes Lord Megatron" the spy comander walks out, Rumble running behind him

The tell tale sound of a roar made the silver tyrant look up, Thundercracker has arrived and with him, you

....................................

The base was intact, for good or worse, you sigh, in relief of still being in a relative close place to familiar locations, if only you knew which direction the city was... Thundercracker made circles and circles before setting in a true route, making the travel double the leght than it should be, and making your anxiety worse

Entering the base was not better, the tension in everyone was clear as day, Frenzy ditched you, running pass Megatron and the seekers to who knows were, you step with caution, not sure if you even know wich direction is the medical wing... At least you hope you are supposed to stay there anyway...

You see three minicons, almost identical to each other, entering different paths, one notices you and waves, you wave back. Besides the silver tank, there was a purple and black seeker, being scolded relentlessly by the red one, Starscream you think was his name, something about recklessness and knowing ones place... ah, just like your job, feels like home already

Your name is called, and you are not the only one who jumps in attention, for a moment, silence reins in the makeshift hagar of the Decepticon base as Megatrons voice booms "you are required in the medical wing, go quickly"

You salute as reflex "yes sir"

And runs to the nearest hall "The other one human"

And imediatly you back away from said hall and runs to it's nearest counterpart, this time no-one calls you back

Are you panicking? Sure, was it because the life of a killing robot was in the line? Probably, did you know what you are supposed to do if push comes to shove? Fuck no, you don't, but your life is on the line, because, you bet all your hard earned money in this hypothesis, if this new patient dies you will go with it, so fake it till we make it

You miss your bed already

Finding the only frame without a door was easy enough, and as you push the heavy cloth out of the way to see who you will be dealing with, you are met with the quiet blue mech from the meeting room, his red visor snapping to attention, but he looked fine, who didn't was the relatively small, to Cybertronian standarts, mechanical panther in the metal table, smudges of blue all through it's body, the big one probably cleaned it while waiting for you

You look up at the metal table, and burrow your pride as you speak, survival first "help me get up, I'll take a look"

You distract yourself from the never wavering gaze by looking through your tools, leaving your bags in the corner, it did take some seconds for you to hear the giant mech bend down and grab you firmly

He puts you beside the panther, its red eyes shine noticing you, the mech growls, not very diferent from a lion, just more scratchy and mechanical, your survival instincts beg you to hide, freeze, but you power trough them, you can cry later, you can panic later

You notice leaking blue lines coming from the minicons' left arm, that place also being the one most clean and dented, with cautious steps you approach the beast, duct tape in hand, hammer in the other

The second you get close enough, the black mech tries to bite in your direction but is too weak to make actual fast movements. You still jump back from the sudden close of its mouth "I-I need to get closer to stop the leaking! I can see that some joints are also being obstructed by some dents, I am not here to harm you..."

The black mech still growls at you, then it stops momentarily, you hear the compress and de-compress of pressure, it sounds almost like a whine "please..."

You see two hands hold the black mech head, the blue guy apparently never left, you nod to him and start your work

Finding the leaking pipes was the easiest part, the panther was smaller than the other, like Rumble, so you had to bend yourself in some weird angles to be able to properly tie things togheter again, the hammering however... you couldn't do it gently. The feline mech jumped every once and while in response to you, but with the blue one holding it still, you were not harmed... only scratched here and then when it tried to move its arm around

Finally, the worst had passed, but your patient was still too... out of it, slowly you approached its neck, and spots a light coming from wires brushing agains each other, clearly snaped, you hum

"Do you have rubber?" You ask your temporary assistant, he slowly picks a black heavy cloth from the closest table and drops near you, with scissors you cut a small new little cloth to yourself, wrap it around your finger and pray it works

You still felt the burn, but at least you were not electrocuted alive, so hey, a win. Once you tape the two wires together again, you can feel the tension leaving the black mechs' body, the hums of the engine becoming quieter, slower, tired

When everything was done, you step back from your work, wondering how late it was, wondering how would your life be from now on... and as the blue mech scratches the black ones chin, as it purrs in content, a part of you can't help but think that this isn't so bad...

Taking advantage of the high height, you look around, and decide to make an improvised climbing rope, so at least if someone else comes putting others in this table, you can escalate there yourself

You work quietly, twisting left over wires and testing some equipment you saw around, many of shapes you never seen before, some familiar but bigger, your exploration is halted by a deep voice, said as trough a filter "Patient designation: Ravage"

You jump and look back at the duo, the blue mech still by the medical table, looking only at the black feline whose optics are closed, he picks the feline up, and whispers "transform"

And like a switch, Ravage contorts and clicks and molds, into a black and grey, big, very big, caccette... oh.

His chest plate pops open, and he puts Ravage inside, together with a familiar black and red caccette... that... must be the guy that would kill you if he discovered Rumble had come for a check-in, that... is Soundwave... who was also by Megatrons side in that meeting, who apparently is in command of the caccettes like Starscream is of the seekers...

Oh wow you could have fucked this up so easily. He finally exits the medical wing, and as he passes trough the curtain, you hear one last thing "Quality of work: lacking, however, adequate for now. Attention: appreciated"

And he leaves just like that, you are finally alone

.............................

You still feel the dryness of tears in your cheeks when you wake up, you check your phone, battery so low you know it will discharge the second you use it to anything other than check time, midnight, great

The rumbling sound that first registered in your ears hasn't stopped, loud, too loud to be just the base, was someone close? You toss the thin blanket you finally aquired aside, taking a minute to adjust your sight to the light again, and immediately notice the... visitor...

Megatron stands by the entrance of the medical wing, arms crossed and staring directly at you, face unreadable

".... hi?" You murmur, a yawn scaping you "how may I be of service?"

Your voice snaps the tyrant out of his thinking "a check-up is in order"

He walks to the corner of the room that you have named "main alt-mode check in area", transforming again in the silver tank you first met... two days... almost three ago... you survived 2 whole days in this mess

"You may proceed to the leaking pipe first" his voice echoes from the tank "I expect discretion with whatever you find in me... doctor"

You nod, picking your backpack up "of course"

Getting inside your patient was familiar, now his engines are far louder than before, likely because he isn't almost passing out, his voice far more firm than that night, lights more potent

Crawling to his engine, you fiund the leaking pipe, the duct tape stretched, forming small gaps that are accumulating drops of energon, but also something strange is happening, in the sides of the tape, it's almost seamlessly transitioning to the metal of the tube

Inspecting closer you see the metal slowly taking over the tape, like vines or... veins. You tap the middle of the makeshift band-aind, it's as you expect, malleable, then you slowly make you way to the corners, tap over metal, but slowly, the tape texture changes to a more solid one, until you finally finish your inspection and it's only metal

"It's growing back" You murmur "like a human tissue... amazing"

"Something you would like to share?" You jump, forgetting briefly that this tank was, in fact, alive

"It's looking good!" You answer, and start to fix the leaking again "it did streech a bit too much, and could potentialy be riped apart again, my hipotesis is because whatever you are made off is far more streechier than human materials, but!"

You finish your work and tapping gently the tube "It looks like it can be used as healing aids, you are growing back the original... metal? Skin? Tissue? Whatever you call it, using the tape as a bridge and guide, that's amazing, haven't seen anything like it"

"Of course you haven't" you can hear the smug amusement in the warlords tone "Cybertronian biology seems to be too advanced for you fleshies to even think about"

You roll your eyes, making you way back out of the tank, still, his pride isn't without its merit, what more is diferent yet similar in your species you wonder...

"I recommend you stop transforming too often" you get out of him, hearing the now familiar sound of mass displacement "give time for your own body to permanently fix the inssue"

"So human material can be used as healing aids by Cybertronians..." Megatron sits against the wall, the scene is strange for you, he looks tired, yet he keeps talking "you are correct that mass displacement might interfere with the healing process, they are far too stiff to keep up with living metal"

The silver mech continues rambling, voice far softer than you have heard before, you don't dare to sit besides him, but you do lean in the nearest wall, waiting for his orders or comand, your eyes dropping every so offten

"But better temporary impaired, than dead" his eyes are fixed in nothing "the normal reabilitation time of a critical replaced part os usualy mere cycles, how long do you think it would take for my body to implement this new material into itself without risk?"

You jump into attention, shaking your head of its sleepiness "huh? ... I... am not sure.... usualy, for human standards, we heal in months after a cyrurgy? This is complete new territory, maybe a check-up every so often to make sure it's still going well is recommended?"

He nods, satisfied with your answer "then it's decided"

Megatron calls your name and continues "you work at a millitar facility near were you found me yes?"

You freeze, then remember you were the one to tecnicaly imply that by your "conversation" in your first metting "yes...?"

"A mechanic, part of the test prototype and regular concert of warmachines, I have a job for you"

You hold your breath, doing your best to no tremble under his red gaze "you, are to misdirect a small portion of your recieving shipment of parts, not always, but every so offten, so that we can still have a consistent suply of spare parts"

He smiles, sharp and crooked, you almost screams how the fuck are you supposed to do that imediatly, but bites your tongue in time, waiting for the warlord to finish

"And tend to whatever soldier I send your way for their check-up" you see him open his arm plate, tiping something and a hologram appears above it, he is taking notes in a language you have never seen "it would also be easier since they would be in alt-form and you would have all the equipment necessary for a better assessment, even an unassuming team... do you have a communication device?"

Too shocked with the reality that this massive robot has a functional hologram program in his arm you just take out your phone and hand it to his extended hand

With more gentleness than you would expect, he places the device inside his arm, a purple glow coming from there, then he lowers his arm to your level "take it, we may now reach you when necessary"

You reach inside, and your phone looks the same, battery still low, then a ping shows up

[Comunication test - 01:26:77 - °°/°°/°°/M.R - D.C: Megatron ]

"M.R?"

"Metal Rein"

"D.C... Direct Communicator?"

"Precisely, it's working, good, Shockwave will be please"

You hum, not daring to ask who that is, you would meet everyone eventually anyways... you still don't know if it's a good thing

[gladiatorcunt]

- JOYRIDE / VIII.

i drink the honey inside your hive

cw: kinktober prompt (daddy kink), southern florist president’s secret child!reader x secret service agent!toji, reader has a vagina, tits used to refer to your chest, age gap (toji is 47 and reader’s early-mid 20’s), dad bf type shit, willing to expand on this, hints of political intrigue and fictional plots, toji x your mom mention, implied and eventual betrayal (not of reader), typical politician behavior, parental neglect & it’s consequences, anal & lack of proper anal prep, dirty talk, light pet play, arguable one sided incest role play & possible actual incest, plus sized!reader, gun play mention, underlying mental health issues, mention of itafushi, flower language, dead dove do not eat

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“There. After nearly breaking my back, the seeds are all planted, finally.”

You'd like to be buried under this magnolia tree, it would be a pretty funeral. Black outfits against the white backdrop of rare winter snow. You have big dreams for this sapling, clearly, as unassuming and drab as it appears freshly planted in the soil of your garden. The ones you’re mom took care of are all gone, maybe they got up and walked after her to somewhere on the horizon. If it doesn’t get so hot the state gets put under another burn ban next summer, this little thing should grow into a beautiful thing that obviously showcases how not depressed you are.

Could a depressed person cope with grief by growing a new life? Well, you wouldn’t know, coping isn’t on your to-do list for a long time if ever. What’s the point of getting better when you’re just going to feel bad again?

Whatever, you shake your head and head back into the shop, you have bills to pay and moping around won’t do anything to help with them. Since you live in a pretty small town, it’s a slow day like always. That is until a tough looking man steps in through the door, opening it and making the bell ding.

His loud sports car is still on and roaring outside, a bright yellow Alfa Romeo 4C.

The man notices your wandering eye and smirks, “You like it, doll? Didn’t take you for someone who’d be interested in cars.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s cool. Must have cost you a lot.”

“Nah. I bought it off one of my buddies at work, fixed it up myself. Well, me and my son’s boyfriend that is. You lookin’ to get somethin’ like that for yourself?”

You’re not really on the market for one, no, because it’s loud as hell and practically rumbling in your ear. You rub it off and ask him what he wants, forgetting some of your politeness, but this man doesn’t seem like he’d care if you spit in his face and kicked him in the balls.

“I’m not from around here.” He rasps and adjusts his sunglasses, leaning one heavy arm on the counter and cocking his hip out, “DC, actually. I’m lookin’ for somebody. You could call it confidential business.”

You hum and narrow your eyes, “Unless that confidential business involves a funeral or getting out of the doghouse with somebody, I can’t help you.”

Suddenly you remember your mother telling you about a big shot politician that knocked her up with you, how he hid you both away when she told him she was pregnant. Your mother was down on her luck 16 year old diner girl, and apparently the politician knew all too well how to use and discard her. The money was enough for your mom to give up her dreams and keep you in this town. When you’ve lived so long without what you think you should, you’re fine to obsessively make sure you never go without again.

He’s the president now anyway, even more reason to make sure you’re the bug that stays squashed under the rock.

The man with the mouth scar notices and decides to drop the act, sighing and taking out his gun. He doesn’t shoot you, just scratches underneath his chin with the puzzle and pointedly makes eye contact with you.

“Okay, let’s cut the shit. My name’s Toji Fushiguro, and I know that you’re who I'm after just as much as you know why i’m here, so why don’t ya just appreciate that y’r old man wants you back and come with me?”

You grit your teeth but you know there’s only one way this interaction is going to end is with you getting in the passenger seat of this nutjob’s car. He watches you shut everything off in the shop and leave a message for the only other employee, asking them to take over until you can come back. He’s a gigantic wolf, tall and silent in the corner, keeping his eyes constantly on his prey. Toji’s never let a bunny or prickly house cat out of his sight in his entire career, but in his current line of work it’s at least legal. Essentially.

“Pretty flowers ya got here.” He says, prolonging your unease. “Maybe his office could use some of these, dull ass beige box that it is.”

Your lips quirk up despite the awful situation, “Yeah I guess. The camellias are new, but hellebores are my favorites, I think. Not many people are into flowers this time of year, but I don’t have anything else to do.”

Toji nods, leading you out of the shop with a hand at the small of your back and oddly content to let you stress babble.

“I’m nowhere near good enough to do arrangements for the White House anyway, regardless of who’s sitting all cozy in it.” You spit and bite one of your nails, nipping at a piece of a hangnail. “Probably’d just throw some buttercups, yellow carnations, orange lillies on the floor, a bit of aconite in there too.”

You know that the agent corralling you into his car doesn’t have a damn clue what you’re talking about, but he seems at ease the more you relax into the leather car seat.

You make yourself fall asleep when he puts the car into drive and speeds down the street.

You’ve been in DC for about a week now, without ever actually meeting your dad of course but you’ve met plenty of his staff after Toji introduced you. He’s a secret service agent, who was given the special task of watching over the president’s only child, you can tell he’s not that happy about it.

Probably not as much action as there’d be in his usual position, you’re very willing to go with their plans of you laying low and staying inside most of the time. You’re still so confused, none of this makes any sense at all. You’ve lived your whole life without being involved in any of this but it’s only when your mother’s dead and your father can’t ignore you anymore that he wants to claim you?

It’s all another move in the game towards the re-election. At least he’s a better president than a father, but that’s not by much. Promises to address climate change and the country’s oil dependance getting pushed to the side, worsening class issues and trickle down economics, putting up more anti-homeless measures. You wish you felt like you could leave, but the tiny sliver of hope that by some weird miracle you could do something keeps you from being bold.

There’s nothing you could actually do anyway, you’re never going to be a part of the groups that their agendas support. You’ll always be the small town reject who saw meth addicts at the local gas station more than your own father.

You and Toji have gotten closer, by necessity and the sheer oddity of being polar opposites. You’re both equally as prickly though in different ways, birds of a molted feather. He’s there when you wake up, there during your mundane day, and there outside your door when you go to sleep. Even if you wouldn’t have liked your “bodyguard”, and you’re not sure you do, the distance between the two of you decreasing was inevitable.

He delivers you food, opens your jars, fixes the pipes in your penthouse, drives you everywhere you want to go in the city, carries your books for you in a bookstore, kneels down beside you in the dirt so he can help you with weeding out your garden, and keeps an itemized list of period supplies and your favorite things.

Your favorite minor holiday is national cherry day, he puts a reminder on his phone with the help of his son to always stop by the supermarket and get you some.

You feel like Whitney Houston right now, and if late at night you listen to her albums more than your mom did growing up, fantasizing about a 40+ year old man who treats you like a bug he has to keep alive, then no one has to know.

But no other man’s gonna do

So i’m saving all my love for you

You also think he’s going to assassinate your father. Sometimes you’ll hear hushed whispers late at night between Toji and someone on the phone, he’ll break protocol and leave you alone to duck into another person’s office and end up leaving with a grim look on his face.

You’ve seen the logs he keeps of your father’s whereabouts, which he should have anyway. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but you get the most awful storm in your gut when you see them under a gun that’s never been fired, like it has a special purpose.

You only speak to your father briefly, tense hellos and goodbyes exchanged over the bridge of a too tight handshake. You immediately expressed your distaste for being involved in his political career and he accepted that, letting you galavant on your merry way around town with his most dangerous agent. Ahead of Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Nanami Kento, and Sukuna Ryomen, your father’s closest gaggle of hyenas.

You call them that because you could easily imagine drool dripping from their jowls if they felt so inclined to attack, to devour.

They give Toji their own versions of the same look when you pass them in the halls or they need to meet to give security updates, watching and waiting.

They only give you smiles, of every shape and size.

It’s easy to get a closer look at what your father does, the lives he ruins. Peace can only be an option for so long before other courses of action have to be considered. You don’t know Toji’s motives, this could just be another murder for hire paid for by one of your father’s political rivals. You doubt his heart is that deeply invested in those sorts of things, he’s made himself too apathetic, but you can tell that he still cared a little bit. He told you once that he’s had children who grew up starving before he got the job he has now.

They’re your age now, but he’d still do anything to keep it, to support them.

And then you think that maybe someone who’s only ever been abandoned knows what it’s like to hoard any good thing you can get your grubby hands on.

You give him own little bouquet of flowers one day, half because you’re going stir crazy as the weeks go by with Toji being all you know and half because you think you do want him to kill your father.

Purple Orchid.

Red Lily.

Red Anemone.

Gloriosa.

Red Delphinium.

Red Clematis.

Genista.

The next day, he’s barking at you to get packed for a stay at one of the out of the state safe houses. Don’t ask questions, protocol means you heed his warning and hop back in that canary yellow mid life crisis status symbol.

The tension was bound to be cut with a knife, the whole ride to the safe house is filled with sideways glances and slipknot blaring from the speakers. You have the same uneasy feeling that you do anytime Toji even hints at something being wrong, but something seems especially wrong this time. It’s not your job to worry about it though, and the older man tells you as much.

“Shut y’r trap, alright? You never have to get your panties in a twist when y’r with me, sorta.”

The safe house is as boring as expected, something out of a kindergartener's drawing. One story cube shaped, small roof, faded brown door.

You're only in the tiny kitchen for a second when Toji locks the door and comes to prop himself up on the counter, licking his scar.

He chuckles, “You’re a lot different than I thought you'd be, ya know that?

“I could say the same about you, I mean not really, but there are things I was surprised by.” You retort and sort through the cabinets, picking what cereal you’re going to stress eat tonight.

He comes around the counter and his hands slide from the tile to grip your waist.

“Yeah? Like what, doll?” Is cooed right in front of your mouth when Toji leans down.

You’re not immune to the proximity, your heart does a factory reset. “I never knew you could be so sweet, Toji.”

You’re not supposed to refer to him by his name, but you can’t let the word you secretly want to say slip out. You’d have to tell the employee back at your flower shop to be ready to claim the insurance policy on it after you go back and set yourself on fire.

But God, the miserable man looming over your bunny-tense figure really is sweet, distantly warm in the way a generally emotionally unavailable father is. But Toji’s the kind that would actually give you something to hold close to your heart over his long stretches of being absent until months go by and he tries to be better again.

You’re glad Sigmeund Freud isn’t an immortal vampire who would still be around to psychoanalyze you to shreds.

“Sweet to you maybe, ‘cause I have to be.”

“My dad couldn’t care less if you beat me silly.”

“I know.”

He never once said it was your father that compelled him to be as gentle with you as he is. A woman he met decades one, shacking up with an up and coming politician who he didn’t even try and pretend to be better then. They hooked up once and then he met his late wife, but months later the woman from his one night stand swore the baby in her belly wasn’t his. He never asked for a paternity test.

He never will, he’s already enough like your Daddy anyway, there’s no point in getting a confirmation or a denial to what his soul (and his cock) knows is good enough for a rat bastard like him.

You come out of your shame spiral as he splays one of his beefy gigantic hands out on the counter so you don’t get cold when he pushes your head down.

“I’d kill your old man if he kept me from this ass pussy, but it ain’t like he could if he tried.” Toji grunts, pendulous balls slapping your ass like a couple of grapefruits with every rough thrust in your puckered hole.

You gave up on being shy as soon as he clamped a hand around your throat to direct the first kiss you’d share. “Daddy- ngh, you’re gonna break me”.

His hand is so warm, your cheek squishes against the grooves and minor cracks in his skin as your head bobs forward. Despite you already being pressed down into the kitchen counter as much as humanly possible, Toji seems determined to force you to become one with it.

He gropes your thick ass cheeks, watching them bounce and jiggle as his burly hips slam against you continuously. Performance art in its truest form, whiney little baby pushing their hips back to take him even deeper in their fat ass. He didn’t have the means to properly prep you, just spit on his hand and massaged it into your already wet rim and called it a day. No condom either, but he can probably save the pussy job and it's obvious consequences until after your old man’s been made to lie face down in the dirt.

“I like the way your cunt sits under your squishy belly, ‘s pouting, baby. Both you and your pussy are clingy as fuck, huh?” He laughs deeply, reaching the hand that’s not under your face to smack your clit.

Your empty cunt gets wetter at the teasing, clenching around nothing because Toji likes to play pretend that he can be halfway considerate to the poor thing until he can’t. You want it too much right now, when you’re all loopy from his mean pounding in your ass is the moment he’ll regretfully have to pull himself out to sheath his hung length in your chubby pussy.

You moan, thought it gets precariously close to a wail the longer it goes on. “Daddyyyyyyy, oh fuck, shit- ‘m gonna tear.”

Your words end in a squeal of delight, your off the cuff rambling driving Toji to speed up his thrusts to piston his fat cock harder into your ass. Like he almost wants it to tear, your biological daddy gave you some nasty emotional scars, let your real one leave you with a couple physical ones. That’s what good daddies do, they take care of their babies and always give them something to remember them by when they won’t like their ancient relic of a father so much.

“Now don’t get mad at me, but- Oh, fuck- i was gonna kill ya, that was the plan. Take ya back, blow your brains out in front of your dad, make ‘im piss his pants because he knows he’s next.” He smiles knowingly when his hand on your clit feels it throb at his dark thinking-out-loud musings, wishing he could scrunch his fingers all up in your scalp and roughly pet you. “You like it like that, baby bunny? Daddy gets you gooey and syrupy sweet when he touches you, huh? Could just gobble you up whole, bones and all.”

Fuckin’ hell, you’re more precious than diamonds or gold or any loot he could’ve swiped from your old man’s crib. He’ll have to remember to slide his cock between your slick girls later, soap them up in the freestanding bathtub and spill his thick off white load all over them. You’ll lick up what you can but cleaning you up is obviously Daddy’s job, slurping up his own jizz like a wolf smoothing his rowdy pup’s fur down, nuzzling his nose in the valley of your tits and in the crook of your armpits.

“Daddy-” Your mouth gapes, little punched out ‘unh-unh-unh’s fly out of your mouth as your ass ripples. A few of your hairs stick to your forehead and you look over your shoulder, flushed and overwhelmed.

He just said he was going to kill you, you couldn’t even say when he changed his mind if he’s even telling the truth. But all you can focus on is that you really hope no other security personnel arrive at the safe house to check on you, whatever the fuck you’re doing definitely isn’t protocol.

Toji leans forward and scruffs the back of your neck with his canines, nipping the skin and leaving a mark as he slams his hips forward again. His grip on your love handles becomes iron clad and binding, wishing on a shooting star for bruises to form. He plunges in to the hilt with every thrust and gnaws at your sloped shoulder, he’s gonna cum and fill your cute little butt up. Pump your backdoor so full of cump it bulges and trickles down your trembling thighs.

You keen brokenly, floating up and away into his kiss. Which is basically more of an affectionate bite, but his tongue is mapping out your teeth and your cherry chapstick lips glide against his cold weather chapped ones. So it can be technically considered a kiss, but it leaves you reeling, someone just smashed a rock into your face and you’re collapsed on the ground unable to walk it off.

You try to squirm away from the earth shattering pleasure.

“What i’d say about givin’ me a chance, doll? Anyway, you were good as dead until I actually laid eyes on ya. Pretty thing, soft heart with a softer touch, ripe for the picking and left all alone…”

He can feel you getting close, you’re humping back against him like a bunny in heat as his thumb does a frenzied dance on your clit. He slides his big hand up your body to strum your nipples, his soft as a butterfly’s wing touch contrasting deliciously with his diabolically rough strokes.

In the fantasy he coos in your ear and asks if you agree that he did such a good job making this body, didn’t he? He twists his wrist on your pert bud, timing his ministrations with the upwards angled stroke of his cock. Your whimpering, his thick tip hitting the sensitive place you’ve never been able to reach with your fingers or your extra large toys.

“Fill me up, Daddy, please.” You beg, tears streaming down your face and sticking to his hand cushioning you. You turn your head the tiniest bit to wetly smack your lips together, kissing the rugged appendage. “It’s so hungry, I need it, give it up to me already. Not goin’ anywhere.”

Your cock-crazed eyes widen in panic whenever he acts like he’s gonna pull out, allowing you only the tip before grinning and sliding all the way home once again.

“Don’t worry, baby. I fixed it, didn't i? Got you all plugged up and owned doll, would sooner ride the muzzle of Shiu’s gun than kill ya now. Y’r soakin’ my balls so goddamn good.”

“Thank you, Daddy. Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you-“

Holy fuck, you can’t breathe. You can’t fucking breathe because how can you when all the air in your lungs is beaten out of you by some 47 year olds’s massive cock. The coarseness of his body is so right for you, abrasive where you’re soft and riddled with signs of being battleworn where your body’s only enemy is you. You feel split right down the middle and you’re half afraid that when Toji eventually pulls out, you’ll fall apart and actually become two bleeding halves of a whole fucked out person.

Your clit throbs at the mental image of his hairy swallowing the muzzle of a gun, Toji licks his lips and mercifully lets you reach behind yourself to claw at his rippling muscular glutes as he fucks you. Your ass squeezes his cock in a vice like grip as you shoot your load onto the pale wood laminated floor below. Your ass cheeks jiggle as your hips jump forward, grinding against the air as you get it all out. Riding that lightning off to who knows where.

“Jesus, oh, Jesus- You’re so fucking insane, Jesus Christ!”

At least Daddy will be there, because you’re certain you’re gonna crave keeping him inside and Toji seems like a terrible guy to try to do cockwarming with.

“Shit, baby bunny, this bouncy cottontail is gonna milk me dry, take me for all my money, isn’t that right honey bunny?” His voice is coated with sickenly toe curling condescension.

He roars a guttural groan, his nails forming crescent shaped indents in your hips as he pushes his cock as far as it can go and spurts his hot cum into your ass with a gruff grunt. He can feel your walls spasm around his dick, the sensation hurtles him further over the edge and his hips jerk and the joints begin to creak from the effort.

He’s not the wild and reckless young man who fucked your mother anymore, but you have him all wrong if you think he’s going to roughouse your shit any differently.

When you’ve both calmed down, his salt and pepper stubble gives you beard burn between the fleshy globes, punctuated by a breathless snicker and a barely there peck to your ass hole.

“Sleep in tomorrow, baby bunny” He says abruptly, his tone dropping to become startlingly serious. “I’ll bring back some breakfast for ya, give you a massage. I better come back and find your adorable ass right where I put it to bed, ya hear me?.”

“Yes, Daddy. ‘Said I wasn’t going anywhere.”

He pats your lower back, curling his thick digits around an invisible ball of fur.