#he's so cool!! look at his little whiskers

[fluentisonus]

Embroidered Bat From an Imperial Court Robe, China, Qing dynasty, c. 1759-1800

[crowsyart]

Honestly don’t know much about these guys cause I haven’t read the manga or seen soul eater not and don’t exactly. Plan on either but

Also apparently Kim’s a witch and a tanuki one but I designed this before that so. I’ll figure out how the full animal transformation witch thing works later. I’m thinking insect based or something. Or I might just ignore it we’ll see.

Also hiro is there I guess

[hier--soir]

heart to heart

john price x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: john takes you away for the weekend, and nestled in a cottage on the countryside, you show him just how much you've been missing him. warnings/tags: long term boyfriend!john, john price never finishes his cigars, explicit smut, a little body worship, oral [m receiving], fingering [f], unprotected piv sex, multiple orgasms [m], some overstim [m], come eating x2, brief cock warming, idiots in love, porn with minimal plot. word count: 4.4k masterlist a/n: this was born out of me being physically unable to stop thinking about that middle picture being john price, so here we go follow @hier--soirupdates if you’d like to be notified when i share my writing

It hasn’t rained in six days.

Late autumn spins the countryside in its grasp; a warm cloak that sends the leaves golden and the grass dewy. In a small, unfamiliar kitchen you drop teabags into mugs and gaze out the window. Admire the vast acreage that surrounds the cottage, and the marshland beyond that.

The early morning rays are bright and cool, turning the cabinets a washy yellow colour around you as you wait for the kettle to boil.

Everything is quiet, calm. If you listen closely, past the sound of birds chirping and water bubbling, you can hear John’s heavy snores down the hall; still catching up on sleep after a long few weeks away.

When he came through the front door two nights ago, you’d been quietly surprised to see him home so soon. After not hearing much for almost a month, you’d resigned yourself to getting on with things in his absence. A fairly covert operation, you knew, so you’d spent your days waking to an empty house. Working and eating and showering alone and never exceeding the appropriate number of messages you could send him in one day without stirring worry. Little Angus with his long orange tail and his soft whiskers your only company in John’s stead.

Home at last, he’d wrestled out of his heavy boots and draped himself over where you lay on the couch. Soap opera long forgotten on the tele, he’d slipped an arm around the back of your head, held you to his chest and said, Let me take you somewhere.

The kettle whistles and you pluck it from the stove, still smiling at the memory. Douse the teabags in boiled water and watch as the windows cloud with steam. You leave his black, just the way he likes it, but soften your own with sugar and milk. Your toes are numb against the cool tile, and you rub them against your calf in search of warmth. Inside, your body is at sleepy old war with itself. One half longing to be back in bed, or perhaps to have not gotten up at all yet; the other half taking great pleasure in the mundanity of doing things like this for him again, after so long of not. Tap tap tap of an impatient finger against the counter until his tea turns the perfect colour, and then you’re on your way back to the room.

Leant amongst paisley patterned pillows and white linens, John looks a little out of place knuckling sleep from the corner of his eyes. A little too rough around the edges, too big, too hardened for such soft surroundings. In your brief absence, he’s drawn the curtains and nudged the window beside the bed open a crack. A long arm stretches out toward the sill, ashing a cigar onto the small dish he’s balanced there.

Naked as the day he was born, he lifts the cigar to his lips and blinks drowsily at you. Stretches his legs out, the muscles in his thighs straining, curled toes skimming the end of the bed. Eyes wandering, you kick the door shut with your foot and slink to the end of the bed, holding out his mug.

“’Morning,” he murmurs, voice still thick with sleep. Accepts the tea with a soft smile, the skin beside his eyes crinkling as he watches you crawl in beside him. Hands full, he twists an ankle around yours, face pulling up at the feel of your cold skin against his. “Jesus, you’re like ice. I’ll shut the window.”

“Don’t move,” you hush, nestling your head against his shoulder. “You’re right where I want you.”

John laughs softly, warm body vibrating against yours. “Is that right, sweetheart?”

“Mhm.” You watch him tap his cigar against the dish, sipping your tea and trailing fingers through the dark hairs on his stomach. Enjoy the way his body draws tense beneath your cool touch, goose flesh sprouting across his skin. “Middle of nowhere… unfamiliar town… no one will ever find you. You’re all mine out here, Price.”  

“M’all yours everywhere,” he says, abandoning his cigar in the dish so he can tug on the neckline of your—his—t-shirt. “This proves it, yeah?”

“I suppose,” you smile, lifting your mug to hide behind a sip. He watches you move, calculating and quiet as he sips his own tea. You fidget beneath the intensity of his stare, painfully aware of how well he knows you. That your want, your need, must be painted across every inch of your face.

“Love you in my clothes, sweetheart, I do.” John’s fingers curl beneath the hem of the shirt then, rough callouses tickling over your collarbones. “But you’re makin’ me feel awful naked.”

Heat flares in the base of your stomach and you chuckle, matching smirks splashed across your faces as you sit up and drag the shirt over your head. He watches as you flick it to the floor, gaze darkening as he looks over your body, focusing on the thin grey panties that cover the skin between your thighs. A thick arm curls around your waist, tugging you back onto him, and as you settle there his fingers slip down to fiddle with the band of your underwear.

“Cute,” he comments airily, middle finger dropping under the band to caress the skin beneath it.

Mug discarded off the side of the bed, you put both hands to his stomach now. Tickling his soft skin, playing with the hair there as you lean in and press a kiss to the centre of his chest. And then another, and another, with John simply humming, palm flattening against the small of your back to hold you against his side.

Your lips part, tongue dancing lazily against his nipple. Soft strokes until the flesh is stiffening and you’re practically purring against his skin, drifting across to the other one. You hear the soft clink of his mug hitting the side table, and then John’s hand falls against the back of your head. Thick fingers twist through your hair, playing as you kiss and lick over his collarbones, and the little tugs he gives have a low throb starting up between your legs.

“Feelin’ needy this mornin’, hey lovey?” John asks. His fingers come to the front of your face, cupping your jaw and forcing you to look up at him. Big blue eyes watch you pout, cheeks squished between his fingers as you nod.

“I missed you,” you say, turning to press your nose into his palm and inhale the smell of him.

His eyes soften, and all sense of teasing seems to slip out the window. “I know, sweetheart, m’sorry. Come here’n give us a kiss.”

His lips are soft against yours. Warm, and familiar, with a hint of Darjeeling. Pulling you up to straddle his waist, he coaxes your chest down against his and huffs into your mouth at the feel of your nipples against his skin, teeth sneaking out to smart at your bottom lip.

“Thought about you every day,” he mumbles against your lips. “Missed you every second, love, always do.”

You feel something hot and sharp spark behind your eyelids at those words, and flick your tongue against the seam of his lips, pushing it away, not now not now. You go soft and pliant against him; let him guide you through the kiss, coaxing your mouth open with his long tongue as his fingers dance down your spine. When his hand reaches the round of your ass he grips your flesh there, kneading it between his fingers and pushing down so your clothed cunt comes flush with his cock.

“Feel that?” John says, pulling away an inch to nose at your cheek. His cock is heavy between your legs, thick and stiff where it presses against the gusset of your panties. You gasp as he rocks his hips up, grinding against you until the damp fabric slips between your slick folds and rubs over your clit. “That’s how much I missed you, sweetheart.”

As he talks, the hairs on his moustache prickle against your lips, and you find yourself opening your mouth. Breathy moans spill as you roll your hips against his, lathing hot opened mouthed kisses over his jaw.

“Looked at your picture every night,” he continues raggedly, breath hitching as you suck at the hollow of his throat. His cock twitches against you, the slide only getting smoother as more slick spills into your panties. “Thought about comin’ home ‘n’ never leavin’ again, just so I could play with this pretty little cunt whenever I like.”

Your hips stutter into his and you whine, a tiny glimpse of an orgasm fluttering through you just from those words.

“S’yours,” you whisper against his skin, the words he spoke moments before dancing through your mind. “All yours everywhere.”

Faster than he can stop you, you’re slipping off his lap and settling beside him on the bed. Continuing the onslaught, you lick hot, messy kisses over the skin of his neck, across the broad span of his shoulders.

“My big man,” you say tenderly, fingers itching their way across his chest. You skirt your teeth down the middle of his sternum, squeaking a little when he murmurs in enjoyment and presses a hand to your ass again. “I missed your body so much.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Yeah.”

“Show me then,” he goads lightly, grunting around a smirk when you sink your teeth into the soft flesh over his ribs in response.

His fingers toy with the material of your panties as you drag your tongue over the dip of his belly button, and when you kiss the soft curve of his lower stomach, nose buried in the dark hairs above it, you feel him grip the fabric tight. You can see his cock in your peripheral vision. Swollen and heavy against his hip now. The tip has turned a pretty shade of dark pink, accented by little streaks of white where pre-come oozes from his slit and glides down his throbbing shaft. With your mouth on his belly, you reach out and wrap your fingers around him.

“Fuck,” John grunts, head lolling back against the pillows.

You smile, stroking him slowly as you drag your nose through his thick happy trail, all the way down to nuzzle against the dark thatch of curls above his base. Insistent now, his fingers push beneath the edge of your panties and drag through your slick seam.

You whimper, forehead resting heavily against his skin as he slides two fingers through the wet mess of you. Lewd sounds of your arousal fill the room as John traces featherlight circles around your clit, and your face heats against his stomach, fingers returning to their lazy pace around his length.

The throb between your legs has become a second heartbeat now, so strong that you’re sure he must feel it beneath his fingertips. If he does, he just sighs softly. Lets the thrumming of your cunt sync with the pulse in his fingertips, heart to heart, and murmurs low encouragements as you tilt your head to the side and begin mouthing at his cock.

“Missed my cock.” Your voice is low and unfamiliar in your ears, mouth overrun with desire and spilling your guts before you can stop it. “So pretty, John…”

Circling your entrance with a thick finger, he just says, “I know, love, s’yours. Go on.”

As slow as you can bring yourself to be, you lay gentle kisses down the entire length of him. Wetting your lips and gliding them over his warm, silken skin, before dipping lower and sucking his balls between your lips. A harsh grunt sounds behind you, and, as if in retaliation, he sinks two thick fingers inside you. You moan around his sensitive skin, holding his balls in your mouth and jerking him off until he’s trembling beneath you, broad thighs straining as he tries to hold himself together.

“That’s good, love,” he murmurs softly, almost speaking to himself as he curls his fingers inside you, humming when you grind into his hand. “Need ta get my fuckin’ mouth on you.”

But you just shake your head. Let his balls slip from your mouth with a soft pop before sticking out your tongue and guiding the weeping tip of his cock towards your mouth. Hasty, too needy for your own good, you slip your lips around him and try to take him deep on the first pass. Out of practice after weeks away, your throat constricts and you choke a little around him. So big, so overbearing, you’re too eager to be filled by him that you push and push until you’re gagging and sputtering. Cheeks hot and eyes downturned, you draw back, skin prickling as you hear him say something past the rushing in your ears. Take a moment to catch your breath and ground yourself, fingers tight on his thigh as your tongue swirls around his tip.

“This what you missed then?” he’s saying, collecting your hair in his fist to keep it off your face. “Hm, missed bein’ all full of me?”

“Mhm,” you hum around him, pulling back with a gasp only to press his head against your cheek. Eyes closed, you rub his ruddy tip against your chin, your lips, painting your skin with his precome. Feel the weight of him warm your skin and sigh in quiet delight. And when he groans, exhaling a heavy, ragged breath, you press your mouth around him again, desperate to hear him make that sound over and over again.

“Easy, darlin’, lemme see you,” John chokes out, thumbing sliding over the apple of your cheek. “So pretty with your lips around my cock.”

Heat floods your chest, and you drool around him. The words seem to trigger something in your mind, some insatiable desire to please, to make him feel good, because you’re relaxing, sinking your mouth down further on him. A low, drawn-out curse falls from his lips, fingers curling in the hair behind your ear.

Gaudy sounds of sucking and slurping fill your ears, and you would be self-conscious if it weren’t for the way John’s growls met them in the air. Wordlessly, he slips a third digit inside and the stretch brings a dull burn that has your mouth slowing against him.

Your eyelids flutter as his thick fingers stroke at your walls, searching for the spot that makes you spill every time, but your wanton cries of desperation are muffled by the heavy weight of him on your tongue. In slow, measured movements, he begins to shift his hips in time with your head. Feeding his cock to you and grunting when he feels your throat go soft and easy around him, letting him slip further in until your nose buries in the hair at his base.

John watches you, the blue in his eyes almost entirely swallowed by desire fattened pupils. Rakes his gaze over the way your lips stretch around his thick cock, tears dancing on your lashes as you take him in your throat. The heady taste of him is intoxicating, and you can only hold his gaze for so long before your eyes are rolling back, stomach pulling tight as you swallow around him.

Stuffed to the brim with John, John, John. He’s everywhere, filling your mouth, your aching cunt; it sends your heart racing, thighs trembling as your orgasm begins to crest.

Molten heats swims in the base of your stomach, curling and bubbling there as he you ride his long fingers, moaning his name around his cock. But just as you feel everything begin to go tight and tingly, John’s pulling on your hair and dragging you off him.

A thin strand of spit dangles between his tip and your mouth and he snarls at the sight, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip.

“Fuck, c’mere,” he huffs, squeezing insistently at your shoulders. “Wanna feel you on my cock when you come for me, yeah?”

Mind a hazy blur, you let the weight of him fall from your mouth, the hinge of your jaw still burning as you peel your underwear down your legs and spread yourself over his lap. John doesn’t pull his hand away though. No, he keeps his fingers between your legs, pumping them in and out, slowly, as you hover over his cock.

“My girl,” he says, eyes focusing on where the puffy lips of your cunt almost touch his cock. “My filthy, sweet girl.”

“John,” you puff his name, abdomen tensing when he rubs his thumb against your clit. Balanced on your knees and the tips of your toes, your legs shake a bit. Fingers dance forward to touch his shoulder, desperate for an anchor.

You frown a little, swollen lips parted in a torturous mix of desire and confusion, but he just offers a filthy grin and says, “Tell me you missed me again.”   

“Oh, fuck off,” you smart instinctually, lips twitching when he barks a laugh and slips his fingers from your wet clutch, grasp drifting to your waist. “Please.”  

“There she is,” he rumbles, jaw tensing as you glide his tip through your folds, coating him in your slick. A heavy rush of air spills from his nose. “My impatient girl.”

Once he’s got you on his cock, it doesn’t take long for you to fall apart.  

He lets you keep having it your way for a bit. Watches, gaze heavy, as you bounce on his cock, hands gripping his shoulders for leverage. You squirm on him, face twisted up as you adjust to the thick stretch of him after so long. It burns and aches between your thighs, but you can’t help but keep coming back for more, sinking down on his length faster each time. He tilts his head forward to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, moaning against the plush of your breast when you arch your back, crying out at the feeling of his teeth on the sensitive bud.

After a while he slots his greedy lips against yours. Presses hot, sucking kisses to your mouth, swallowing down every gasp and moan that crawls its way up your chest. The bristles of his facial hair scratch at your cheeks, your nose, and you love it. Have desperately missed the way it warms your skin as he presses his tongue inside your mouth and tastes behind your teeth.

Using his hold on your hips, he rolls you against his lap. Meets you thrust for thrust until you start to soak his length, jaw going slack as he growls into your open mouth.

“Fuckin’ hell, love, that’s it,” John groans, fingers tightening on your waist as your cunt pulls tight and hot around him. Thighs shaking, you let your forehead fall against his chest and ride out the flood of your orgasm. “I know, darlin’, I know, I’ve got you.”

Fingers fly up to grip the back of your neck, his other arm snaking around your waist as he continues fucking up into you. His cock presses hot and heavy into that soft, gushy spot deep inside you and you shudder against him, helpless little moans slipping from your parted lips. Face smushed against his hairy chest, you drool a little. Feel it pool between his pecs and smear across your cheek as your eyes roll back, dopamine pounding in your veins as he pushes you relentlessly through the high.

“Gonna let me fill you up?” he’s panting, feet planted on the bed now as he bucks into you, hips stuttering as he sinks closer and closer to his end. “Fuck, I’m gonna make a right mess of you, darlin’. That’s it, lovey, show me that pretty face.”

“John,” you mewl, toes curling against the sheets. “Shit, oh shit.”   

“Christ,” he grunts when you meet his eyes, jaw pulled tight. “So tight, m’ gonna come—”

“Wait,” you mumble suddenly, senses sharpening despite the way your thighs still shake against his hips. John stills immediately, grip tightening on your waist. “In my mouth, I want you in my mouth.”

His face crumples at that, a guttural noise sputtering from his lips as you lift off him and slip down to rest between his legs. He nods, brushing hair back off your face as you sink your mouth down on him, slick tongue hungry on the underside of his pulsing cock. He mutters your name, tells you how perfect you feel as he rocks his hips forward, tip nudging the back of your throat with every careful thrust.

“My sweet girl, doing so good for me,” he breathes, a coy grin on his face and a firm hand at the base of your skull. He holds your head in place as he fucks your mouth with slow, steady strokes. Groans every time you swallow, warm wet throat drawing tight around his swollen head.

“Look at me, let me see those eyes,” he mutters urgently, tugging on your hair until you’re blinking, focusing blurry eyes on his face. He thumbs at the teary streaks on your cheeks and gives a rough, prolonged groan as he begins to spill down your throat. “Fuck, fuck.”

You bob your head as his cock twitches and jerks against your tongue, sucking until he’s filled your mouth with warm come and it starts seeping from the corner of your mouth, dribbling down his shaft. You catch the spill with your fingers, swallowing his thick spend down and then licking what’s left from your trembling hands.

John watches on, chest heaving, and tuts fondly when you whimper, head spinning with the salty taste of him on your tongue.

“Bloody hell,” he exhales after a moment, dragging his knuckles over his face. “We’re never goin’ home.”  

You laugh, drowsily nuzzling your cheek against the inside of his thigh as his cock softens against his stomach. John cards his fingers through your hair absentmindedly, legs still twitching and eyes drifting closed as he tries to catch his breath. Lips slick with spit and come, you lay soft pecks along his sweaty skin. Smile when he shudders, fingers tightening against your scalp, but doesn’t pull you off.

There’s a hot flush of red splashed across the skin of his neck, his cheekbones, and his stomach is still warm to the touch when you reach out to graze his soft flesh. Sated and sleepy, he wets his lips and continues to play with your hair. Lovingly curls strands of it around his fingers and tugs gently before letting go, only to pick a new strand and do it again.

Overcome with emotion, and unable to stop yourself, you lean forward and take his soft cock back into your mouth.

John hisses through his teeth in surprise, eyes flashing open.

You don’t do anything crazy yet. Just let him feel the warmth of your mouth around him, the soft glide of your tongue against the ridge around his head. When he doesn’t pull you off after a second, you give him a little suck. Not hard—just enough to make his hips flinch down into the mattress and his legs pull tight at your sides.  

“Fuck,” he exhales, face pinched. His hand trembles against your head. “Fu—hang on, fuckin’ hell, love.”

You peer up past his stomach to where his mouth hangs open and his eyes are shiny and wide. His nails scratch against your scalp. Needy little nudges that blur the line between too much and not enough. You hum in pleasure around him when a choked sound falls from his mouth. Feeling a little mean, though, you pull back, licking your lips and smiling apologetically.

“Sorry,” you murmur, face hot as you squeeze his thigh. “Just want to love on you a little longer, that’s all.”

He hums deep in his chest, brow creasing a little as he brings his big hands to cup your face. His thumb swipes at your chin, smearing the saliva there, and you part your lips for him. He makes a sort of pained sound as he slots the digit into your mouth and watches you hollow out your cheeks out around it, swirling your tongue and sucking like you’d done to his cock just moments ago.

“Christ,” John breathes. Something needy and desperate glints in his eye, and he slips his finger from your mouth. Grips the back of your neck and gives a short nod. “Gonna be the death of me, ain’tcha?”

Guided by his hand, you take him back in your mouth and sigh in relief. Your eyelids flutter closed, and you rest your face against his hip, taking deep breaths through your nose and just holding him like that for a while. You can hear the way his breathing goes haggard above your head; short sharp bursts of air huffing from his nostrils. Sensitive as he must be, John lets you have your fun, shivering and spiting low curses as your touches get increasingly needier. And when you begin to suck softly at his length again, he seems unable to help the way his strong legs writhe against the mattress.

He says your name, rough and urgent, when you pull back only to snake your tongue out against his slit. Eyes fluttering open, you look up at him as you lathe your tongue down his length, smiling at how red his face has gotten, at how he seems to be holding his breath. John’s cock starts to swell and stiffen beneath your touch.  

“D’you want me to stop?” you whisper, tracing the blue vein that pulses down the side of his length with your tongue.

“No,” he pants, head lolling from side to side. “Fuck no, gorgeous. Just go easy on me, yeah? It’s ohh—” he winces “—s’a lot.”

You nod understandingly and press a kiss to his tip, smearing the fresh pearl of precome there against your lips. He’s fully hard now, throbbing when you wrap your fingers around his thick base and wrap your lips around his head. A guttural sound rips from his chest and he’s tugging at your hair. For a moment you pause, unsure, but then he’s pushing a little on you. Nudging you closer, further, so you take him deeper and deeper until his tip is nudging against your throat.

“Fuck,” John gasps, hips stuttering against your palms, sensitive cock twitching against your tongue. “S’too much, love, it’s—oh fuck.”

With a ragged grunt his cock pulses in your mouth, and a little spurt of come dribbles from his head. You moan, eyes closed, and swallow tight around him, milking every last drop of spend from his cock until he’s winded and clumsily pushing you off of him.

Breathless, you fall flat on the mattress beside him, feet dangling off the end of the bed. John’s broad palm cradles the back of your head still, a comforting weight as you wipe your face against the sheets.

Ears pricking, you realise it’s begun to rain outside. Soft patters of liquid that knock against the window, thin rivulets that drip down to splash and splutter against the sill. Long forgotten, his cigar sizzles and dies beneath the spray.

“Another tea?” you murmur finally, pushing up onto your elbows.

But with a soft, startled laugh, you find that John’s eyes are closed, chest rising with steady breaths; already back to sleep. Shaking your head a little, you smile fondly at his lax form, and consider closing the window. You settle instead for pulling the duvet from the corner of the bed. Curled against his thick side, you settle the blanket over the two of you and lay an arm over his stomach, content to have a proper lie in after such a busy morning.

thanks for reading, i'd love to hear what you thought x

[roosterforme]

That's My Boy | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley gets caught up in his emotions after Everett turns twelve. As his son gets older, he realizes that days spent playing baseball in the park together will grow fewer in number. He wants to make all of them count.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing

Length: 2400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

This is a Batting Practice one-shot but can be read alone! Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @mak-32

"I can't believe he's turning twelve next week," Bradley muttered as you and he stood in front of a wall of baseball bats in San Diego's best sporting goods store. "It feels like he just turned seven."

You slipped your arms around his waist and gave him a squeeze. "Have I mentioned yet that I love that you kept the Padres game tradition alive every year for his birthday? Ev is going to flip when you tell him you got box seats for the game on Sunday."

Bradley kissed the top of your head and grunted softly as he smiled. "I fucking love that kid. He still asks me to take him to the park to hit balls all the time. And I just don't know how much longer he's going to think I'm cool, you know?"

You snorted against Bradley's chest and then looked up at him. "He'll probably think you're cool for longer than he thinks I am!"

"Well, yeah. Obviously, Kitten," he said as he rolled his eyes and tried not to laugh. "But I might only last another year or so past you."

"You're obnoxious," you informed him with a grin as he positioned you with your arms out in front of you and your palms up. 

"I know," he replied, giving you another kiss. Then he walked around the store and loaded your arms with two new bats, a new mitt, cleats and some baseballs. "I think that's good. Plus I ordered him and I those personalized Phillies throwback jerseys."

"Seriously? You think the two of you needed more Phillies jerseys? You probably already have half a dozen with BRADSHAW on the back."

"Actually I have seven. This will make eight," he said, pulling you closer to him while your arms were still full. "But he won't be a kid for much longer. He's not gonna want to match with me when he's eighteen. And I love spoiling him. And you."

You set everything down at the register while Bradley dug his credit card out of his wallet. "So..." you said softly while the cashier bagged everything up, and he paid. Bradley looked at you out of the corner of his eye as you ran your hand along the back of his bicep. "You want to take me home and spoil me while Everett is with his cousins for the evening?"

Bradley smirked and grabbed the bag, lacing his fingers with yours. "You want to dress up in your bodysuit and kitten ears for me? Let me kiss off your whiskers?" 

You were giggling as you ran out to his Bronco, and Bradley was hot on your heels.

----------------------------

"Dad, I want to try out my new gear," Everett whined as he looked out the front window at the pouring rain a week later. His voice was starting to get deeper, and all of the girls in his class had a crush on him. He had grown up so much since Bradley met him, and sometimes it still shocked him that he had a son. 

"It's supposed to be nicer out tomorrow. We can go then."

Everett turned and looked at him. "But tomorrow's your birthday."

Bradley smiled. He couldn't think of anything he'd rather do after work than come home, get changed, grab his mitt, and go to the park. "Yeah, it'll be fun."

But Everett still looked skeptical. "Won't Mom be mad if we ditch her on your birthday?"

"Nah. We'll be home for dinner. And I'll make it up to her later."

Everett grimaced and started to head upstairs, but then he paused and asked, "Can we wear our new jerseys?"

"Of course."

And it turned out, you were a little annoyed at first the following day. "I have birthday dinner and cupcakes planned. I thought the three of us could eat together here since we're going to the pizza place with Molly and Bob on Friday."

Bradley pulled you close and whispered, "Just for an hour?" He rubbed your back and gave you his sweetest expression. "We'll just hit a few balls and come right back."

He turned as he heard Everett thunder down the stairs. "Ready, Coach?"

"Please?" Bradley asked you, kissing your forehead. 

"Go," you said, pushing him toward Everett. "But seriously, be home by seven or I'll eat all the cupcakes myself."

Bradley and Everett ran out the front door with twin grins and loaded their gear into the back of the Bronco. It was strange to see how tall his son had gotten after a recent growth spurt; he was already almost as tall as you. Another few years, and he'd be the same height as Bradley. Maybe taller. 

"You okay?" Everett asked, and Bradley realized he was just standing there staring at him. He looked a lot like his biological father, but he really looked so much like you.

"Yeah," he grunted, kind of missing the days when he would buckle Everett into his booster seat. Now he climbed into the front seat without help. Bradley started the engine and said, "A few more years and I'll be teaching you how to drive this thing."

Everett's eyes bugged out. "You'll let me drive the Bronco? Mom hardly ever even drives it."

"Yeah, well, Mom doesn't appreciate the fine art of making sure it doesn't stall out on the highway."

"I would," he replied, looking around the interior like it was a hallowed space. 

Bradley nodded as he pulled into the parking lot. "I don't doubt it, Kiddo. You ready to test out your new bats?"

"So ready!"

The grass was still a little damp from all the rain, but the air smelled fresh as the sun dipped closer to the horizon. Bradley waited until Everett signalled that he was ready, and then he pitched an easy slider to him. Everett sent it soaring. "Holy shit," Bradley muttered as he watched where it landed so they could collect it later. "Nice," he called out as he reached into his bucket for another ball.

This time he threw the same pitch but harder. The result was identical as Everett nailed it far into the outfield. "I like this bat!" he said, adjusting his stance, ready for more.

Bradley rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck before throwing his slider again, this time with everything he had. He could feel the ball leave his hand. The perfect pitch. And then he heard the crack of the bat. The perfect hit. This time the ball went even farther than the last two.

"Damn," Bradley said, reaching for another ball and rolling it around in his glove a few times. "Try the other bat," he told Everett, and he watched his son switch them and take a few practice swings.

"Ready!"

Maybe he wouldn't be expecting a fastball this time. Bradley wound up and threw a pitch that even Bob could only hit half the time in the rec league games. 

Crack!

"Jesus, Everett," he said as he watched the ball sail directly over his head. In a real game, it would have been an easy out for the center fielder, but it was hit so well and so hard, Bradley was kind of shocked. 

"Come on, Dad," Everett called. "Throw a really hard one."

Bradley looked at his eager face. He wasn't taunting; he really wanted a harder pitch. But Bradley was already starting to get a little sore as he scooped up another ball. He threw the hardest changeup he could muster, and while it wasn't a clean hit, Everett still got some wood on it. 

But when he threw that pitch again, Everett hit it square on and sent it sailing farther than the other balls in the outfield. "Damn, Kiddo," Bradley said, gaping at his son who looked completely unfazed. 

"Wanna switch places?" Everett asked, heading toward Bradley and handing him the bat. 

But it was more of the same. Sure, the bat wasn't quite big enough for Bradley, and it was still hard for Everett to stay in the strike zone, but Bradley could barely hit his pitches. They were too fast. His slider was so good, he had Bradley swinging too late. His changeup was so sneaky, Bradley swung early. 

Finally, Everett threw a fastball that Bradley nailed so hard, they'd be lucky to find it in the treeline. "That's a birthday home run, Coach!" Everett cheered, jumping and tossing another ball up into the air.

"Yeah," Bradley rasped, just standing there staring at the twelve year old. He felt tears prickle his eyes as he smiled and closed the distance between them. "You're really good, Ev," he whispered, pulling him tight to his body. When his son smiled up at him with his slightly crooked front tooth and bright eyes, Bradley said, "Let's get home for dinner with Mom."

-------------------------------

You loved more than anything that you and Everett had Bradley in your lives, and that the boys so easily lost track of time when they were together. But tonight you made an enormous dinner for your husband's birthday, and now they were late getting back. Just as you started to make yourself a plate of food, unable to wait any longer to eat, the two of them burst through the front door. Everett was talking a mile a minute, and they looked absolutely adorable in their matching shirts. 

"Did you have fun?" you asked, taking a bite of mashed potatoes. It was actually impossible to be annoyed at them when they got like this. But Bradley met your eyes with a soft smile on his face that almost looked a little sad. 

"Yeah," he replied, his voice rough. When you set your plate down and went to him, he pulled you in for a hug. "Thanks for making dinner."

"Happy birthday," you whispered for probably the hundredth time today. "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "I'm perfect."

The three of you ate at the table, but Bradley was a little quieter than usual. And he only ate one cupcake instead of two or three. And you thought you saw tears in his eyes when he opened the enormous Phanatic foam finger Everett picked out for him. 

"I love it. And I love you," Bradley told Everett as he hugged him. "We can put it upstairs in the Phillies room."

You watched the way your son hugged him as he said, "Happy birthday, Dad." There was no way that kid was ever going to stop thinking Bradley was cool. 

"Ev, sweetie, it's time to start getting ready for bed," you reminded him.

"Go on up and get a shower, and then I'll tuck you in," Bradley told him as Everett went thundering up the stairs. 

He was old enough that he probably didn't still need to be tucked in, but you knew for a fact that Everett had never once asked Bradley to stop. When you looked at your husband across the table, he was rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. You stood and went to him as you softly asked, "Will you please tell me what's wrong?"

He looked up at you with tear filled eyes before scooting his chair back and patting his thigh so you'd sit on his lap. You settled in with your arms around his neck, and he kissed your cheek and your shoulder as he visibly tried to hold back his tears. 

"God, Kitten. You should have seen him tonight. He's just so fucking good."

"I know he is," you replied, kissing his cheek.

"No. He's better than me now. He hit the hardest pitch I could throw, and then I could barely make contact with his slider."

You let those words really sink in. Bradley was easily one of the best players in his recreational league. He could pitch nine innings and make it look easy. He could hit the ball beyond the fences. "Are you serious?"

"I'm so fucking serious, Baby," he whispered, rubbing his mustache along your neck. "He's twelve. His voice hasn't even changed all the way yet. He hasn't even reached his maximum height."

You took Bradley's face in your hands and kissed his nose. "And this is making you cry?"

He shrugged as you ran your thumbs along his rosy cheeks. "I'm just overwhelmed. He seems so grown up now." He closed his eyes, voice shaky as he said, "I wish I'd had more time with him when he was a little kid, you know? I didn't get to see him when he was a toddler or anything. It would have been nice to have another year of tee ball. Hell, I wish I'd had a few more years with you, too." 

Now your throat felt tight with tears of your own, but you shook your head. "You found us at just the right time. Right when we needed you the most."

Your forehead came to rest against his as he gave up the battle and let himself cry. You loved that he was so soft for the two of you and let you see his emotions. He took as much time as he needed while you ran your fingers through his hair, and when he met your eyes again, he was smiling.

"I don't know what I'm going to do when he doesn't want to play ball in the park with me anymore," he said with a laugh as he wiped his eyes. "I live for this shit."

You kissed his cheek as you heard Everett calling for him to come upstairs. "I really don't think you're going to have to worry about that, Coach."

Bradley stood but kept you close. "Pretty soon he'll be grown. An actual man."

When he tried to walk away to tuck Everett in, you put your hands on his chest to keep him in place. "Yeah. He will. And he'll have the best role model in you to show him how it's done."

Bradley ran his hand over his forehead, and he looked like he might start crying again. "I better go tuck him in while I still can."

You nodded and followed him up the stairs. When he turned right toward Everett's bedroom, you stood in the hallway, blinking away your own tears as you listened to their voices. Their combined laughter filled your house and your heart as you waited to take your husband's hand for the night whenever he was done being the dad who was tailor made for Everett.

-------------------------

Soft and sweet Coach makes me tear up every time. Bradley, Everett is always going to think you're cool, and he's always going to want to spend time with you. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@bradshawsbitch

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

[nekrosdolly]

feline delight (18+)

albert finds you on the streets. too cute to pass up, he takes you home against your will.

a/n; sorry this took so long! hope it was worth the wait :D

cw; half-alive dove maybe eat, cat hybrid!reader, afab!reader, owner!wesker, kidnapping, captivity, stockholm syndrome, drugging, dubcon/noncon, body betrayal, leashing + collaring, reader doesn't wear underwear, manhandling, breeding kink, wesker likes seeing you in pain sorry, no prep (please prep irl), unsafe sex (p in v, clitoral stimulation, creampie, implied multiple rounds)

tags; @4inchfae @thatgirlgames @whiskers-my-beloved @icecream596

albert never had a penchant for pets, let alone a hybrid like yourself. bringing you in may have been the best thing he'd done in years. you needed a home desperately, regardless of how much you scratched and clawed at him when he'd carried you off to his research facility without so much as an introduction. you hear him rustle around in his pockets with one hand and then, the uncapping of something. before you can look at what it is, a fine needle pierces right into the muscle of your neck. your vision fades within seconds, and you stop scratching.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

you didn't know what to expect, but waking up in a cage clean and clothed hadn't been on your list. you thought you'd surely be dead. but, there you were, with a black long sleeve shirt and skirt, thigh-highs adorning the better half of your legs, and a black leather collar around your neck. looking around, a small bell attached to your collar rings. not moments later, you hear footsteps. you look up at the man who has taken you in- tall, blonde, and very intimidating.

albert crouches before the kennel you're cowering in and looks you over as if he didn't get a good enough look when he bathed you. you hiss quietly and shrink into one of the corners furthest from him, cool metal digging into your back with each attempt to get further away.

behind his shades, his hazel eyes thoroughly examine you. the fear you give off is aromatic with a faintly sweet undertone of something more. gratefulness, perhaps. he did bathe you, clothe you, and put you in a very nice kennel of your own. your collar is a perfect fit, no less, and even though you didn't ask for any of this, it's more than you know what to do with. you've no bruises, no gashes, no injuries. how strange.

he's pondering what to say to get you to calm down. to trust him a little. maybe come out of the kennel, but that would be for later.

"hello." he places a gloved hand on the kennel's top rather carefully, so as not to startle you, and leans in just a bit. his voice is nicer than you would think. a bit nasally, sure, and the accent is cheesy, but he could read you the yellow pages and you wouldn't mind.

"…" your silence makes his jaw clench by a fraction. he'll have to fix that. for now, he'll ease you into things.

"what's your name, little one?"

"haven't got one." you rasp, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin atop them. ears flat against your head, your tail swishing- cautious and afraid, you are, and well within your rights to be.

he nods.

"we'll have to fix that, won't we?" he forces a little smile on his lips when you nod. you're not sure why you do when, two seconds ago, you'd have run off if the kennel door was opened. he's smart, he's thought this through. you're not leaving the kennel until you trust him, unbeknownst to you. your tail is ramrod stiff on the cushioned floor of your captivity, and at least he was kind enough to furnish it for you.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

it's hard to trust him even though you know it would be smart to pretend.

he only lets you out to feed you, and from the start, he'd made it clear that if you tried to run, you'd be dead. at the same time, twice a day, he opens the cage for you to crawl out of. he extends his hand to you, looping his gloved fingers around your collar and guiding you to sit by his feet. he links a leather leash through the d-ring attached to your collar and walks you through his home, the environment sterile and hardly lived in.

it's when he puts you in his lap at the dining table and force feeds you that he fills the tense silence. the food itself is good, and you wonder if under different circumstances, you'd want him to be your owner. as you eat, he talks. you are, to some extent, grateful that he feeds you, even if he is only doing the bare minimum.

"have you been good, dear?" he asks, and you nod as per usual. it's rare that you decide to talk.

"good girl." he scratches the spot behind your ear, forcing you to lean into his hand and purr. he chuckles quietly. as he pets you, his stress melts away. you're so cute. a meek, naive little thing that he loves taking care of.

as dinner finishes, he picks you up and keeps you in his arms as he cleans up. you're silent, sedated by the drug he's put in your food, and you're bodering on falling asleep in his arms. a swell of pride of warms his chest as a little snore escapes you, followed by your tail wrapping around his arm.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

day by day, bit by bit, you miss him. he keeps you company when he's not at "work" or whatever that is, he talks to you, he pets you the way you like, and it's nice when you forget about how you got here. the only thing you've come to dislike is the lack of underwear. it's not that he can't afford some, it's that he enjoys your discomfort to a worrisome degree. he likes its easy access, even if he hasn't taken advantage of it (or you) yet.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

he comes around and you find yourself less defensive, thanks to your breeding cycle. you press your face against the bars of your enclosure.

"owner," you whine as he walks past, a spark igniting in your gut. his scent is stronger than it was this morning, and you're hyperaware of the growing warmth filling your body.

"yes, dear?" he stands at his closet, his back to you as he strips himself of his work clothes.

"can i come out?" you paw at the door of your cage, ignoring the rattling noise it causes.

he doesn't respond immediately, letting you stew in your silence for a moment as he finds something more casual to wear. you don't normally ask to come out- this is progress, proof of your trust.

"in a moment. let me get dressed, darling."

it's enough for you to stop whining. your tail swishes happily and your ears perk up when he approaches the cage in grey sweatpants and a black shirt and crouches down to undo the lock to the cage. you practically jump into his arms, purring loud when he wraps his big arms around you and pulls you into his chest.

"thank you." you murmur, nuzzling your cheek against his chest. his smell, like poison, makes you dizzy with desire. the warmth is growing uncomfortable, your ears pinned flat against your head.

he hums in response as he strokes your hair, a purr emanating from the depths of your chest. the heat spreads the more he touches you, pooling between your thighs. he tries not to notice when you rub them together and mewl pathetically.

"is something wrong?" his voice is a match to the flame in your gut.

it's your turn to be silent, trying to even out your breathing despite the overwhelming urge to lean in and take a nice, long whiff of the pheromones he gives off.

"darling, answer me. you know better." he says in a more stern tone, looking down his nose at you.

"… i'm in heat." you state quietly, avoiding his gaze. if you could see his eyes, you're sure they'd be wide and a little bit dark.

"are you, now?" he hoists you up in his arms as he stands, his forearms just under your ass. you're bent slightly over his shoulder. "we'll need to remedy that, won't we, pet?" he chuckles. a chill runs down your spine. just what have you gotten yourself into?

he's not a mean lover, just a little rough. he sets you on his bed and pushes you down with a cold hand to your chest as he moves on top of you. anxiety cools your blood, makes it like ice pushing through your veins.

"wh-what are you…?" he presses a finger to your lips, silencing you, and kisses your cheek.

"i've been waiting a long time for this, darling. it would be wise to avoid making me wait more." there's a threatening undertone to his voice, the burn of discomfort making itself known in your shoulders. he wedges his knee between yours, forcefully parting your thighs so he can trail his hand up them, pinching here and there just to see you flinch, and smooth two fingers along your weeping slit. a hint of a smile makes itself known as you shudder, thighs parting wider to accomodate his hand. his cold digits stop at the very top, feeling for your puffy clit, and rubs slow, tight circles around it.

you hate that it feels good, and you hate yourself for having a breeding cycle. a soft moan leaves you at his light touch, your eyes locked on the hand rubbing your clit. he presses down a little firmer, eliciting a whine from you.

"look, doesn't that feel much better?" he croons, his voice low with his lips so close to your ear. reluctantly, you nod, and that earns you the reward of his fingers rubbing you a little faster. you squirm a little, trying to get more than just surface-level pleasure.

"words."

"y-yes. that feels good, thank you." a hint of malice laces through your tone, but you're grateful for what he's giving you. your face is on fire as only the pathetic wet noises from your cunt fills the air, and you (try to) hide your face in your hands, only to be met with a sharp slap to your cunt. you flinch, the pain subsiding after he continues playing with your cunt. your hands come down from your face and instead grab the sheets.

your stomach tightens, twists into a coil that winds tighter with every pass over your hardened clit. but you can't cum like this, not when your breeding cycle is ongoing.

"owner- p-please, need more." you whine, and albert kisses your cheek as a response, denying you of what you need.

"such a needy thing. fine. you'll get what you want." he takes his hand from your pussy and to the waistband of his sweats, pushing them down rather impatiently, as well as his boxers. weeping, his cock is bright red at the tip from want (how long has he been hard for?) and large. you're worried.

he chuckles at your fear-stricken expression before grabbing your legs and pressing them against your chest.

"be a dear and hold these for me, hm?" he says, and you do as you're told. you hold your legs by the backs of your thighs, pressing them so your knees hit your chest. he strokes himself once, twice to the sight of you spread out for him, your cute cunt drooling. slick drips down your perineum, inviting him.

you watch him slot himself in place, the tip of his long cock dragging through your folds to bump your clit, making you gasp. your entrance clenches around nothing, a pitiful whine leaving you.

"greedy." he shakes his head softly as he lines himself up, and without warning, thrusts himself entirely inside you.

the stretch is worse than you imagined. you flinch away from him, but he grips your thighs and tugs you right back onto his cock. it hurts, and the burn is something you hadn't accounted for. tears prick at your lower lashline. he leans down, his frame practically engulfing yours, and kisses your cheeks.

"don't cry. struggling only makes it worse, you know." he coos, tapping your jaw. you nod softly and wrap your arms around his neck for support, sniffling as the tears trail down the sides of your face. to ease your discomfort, his hand works itself between the two of you again and thumbs at your clit, dulling some of the pain. another moment, and your tears have disappeared.

"y-you can move. m'okay." you mumble to albert's delight. he starts slow, mostly on your behalf, and hisses at just how tight you are around him as he thrusts shallowly into your aching cunt.

the moment you make a noise, he grips your thighs tighter and starts bullying his cock into you quite intensely. the tip of his cock kisses your cervix with every single harsh, downright mean, thrust. he's not doing this for you, and that becomes readily apparent. still, you can't deny that it feels good to be fucked.

albert's quiet, aside from small huffs and hisses of enjoyment. you're so wet, it's making a mess of his lower abdomen and thighs. the lewd slapping of skin on skin combined with your precious mewls and whimpers of pleasure spurr him on, his nails digging into your thighs. his cock brushes against the spongy spot inside you, making you cry out and arch your back off the bed.

"there- a-again, please!" you grab the hand not rubbing your clit and lace your fingers together as the pressure in the pit of your stomach builds and builds, leaving you dumb on your owner's cock. he complies with your request, if not to feel you cum then just to see your pretty face when you do.

he bullies that spot relentlessly, to the point where some of his hair falls in his face. gummy walls squeeze and suck him in more, a loud cry leaving you as you reach your peak. slick gushes from your already crying pussy, thoroughly coating the both of your lower halves. it's dripping from you as he continues pumping into your hole, the schlick noise amplified now.

"w-wait- wait-" you grab the hem of his shirt, but he ignores your protests.

"we're not finished until my precious girl has her cunt filled with cum." he moves your hand away, forcing yourself further into the mating press he's got you in. you can feel every single inch, and how the throb of his dick indicates his climax. a few more sloppy, mean thrusts and he's spilling his seed into you. decidedly, it's a good feeling, and you need much, much more. your heat ceases momentarily, however, as he keeps his cock inside to ensure that nothing leaks out. your tail wraps around his thigh, the end flicking happily.

"i mean filled in every sense of the word, darling." he gathers some of your slick that's coating his lower abdomen on two fingers and pushes them in your mouth, watching with delight as you kitten-lick them clean. a dark grin forms on his pale lips, his length twitching at the sight. it's then that you really give in, that you decide it's better to be this way- fucked full of his cum and brainless. a familiar heat flares in your gut once more.

[pedge-page]

Joel dealing with Preggo Wife drabble (?): Sundae Surprise

Notes: I've still got more adventures for these two, I'm just writing little scenes that may or may not be Canon and jumping around the timeline at this point idk just ENJOY THE IDEA OF IT:

- - - -

You're playing on the old Gameboy Joel dug up out of storage, legs propped up on the couch on this hot-ass-fuck Sunday afternoon. You had been given strict orders to take it easy and lounge these last few days before the baby arrives.

Easy.

Your thumbs are furiously clicking, eyebrowns furrowed as you try for the 23rd time to pass the level youre stuck on.

"Joel. Can you get me chocolate syrup and a can of cool whip."

"No. You've had too much sugar today. Need to keep your heart rate down, due any minute."

"Daddy..." you pout with a head tilt and innocent begging voice to entice him.

"Mmm," he mocks with a far cry minic of your high pitched tone, still not looking at you as he twiddles with his tools on the creaky bolts of the dining table. "Still no."

You roll your eyes, dropping the game box on the coffee table. You drumb your fingertips on your ever so quiet belly all scrunched up under your massive breasts.

You know for a fact this baby isnt coming any time soon since she's so silent today. Joel's been too overly anxious with the due date approaching literally this week. Keeps fixing shit around the house like it's going to make him ease his worry. He's already replaced the lightbulb in the bathroom that was perfectly fine, adjusted the creaky hinge of the front door, re-caulked the kitchen sink back splash, but damn the dining room table--which you have no idea had something wrong with it but Joel's been giving it hella attention while you sit around bored out of your mind.

Momma's instinct will tell you when this baby is ready to pop. But right now you NEED to guzzle chocolate syrup and whip cream down your throat like a frat party bukake or SOMEBODY (not to name any names--but its Joel) is sleeping on the couch tonight.

You think a little bit before it clicks.

You gasp excitedly--a little too over the top, "She's kicking!"

But Joel is so on edge he doesn't even question it, running straight for you and kneeling by the couch, his whiskers scratching the smooth expanse of your skin as he rests his ear flat on your belly.

"Hear that?" You encourage.

But it's quiet.

"No....no," but he wants to so badly, wants to believe his baby is gonna tell him something, and he thinks maybe ...? "wait, wait, yeah, she says 'daddy's here'--"

"No, she says bring me some fucking chocolate syrup and whip cream."

He pulls away and narrows his eyes at you before disappointingly getting on his feet and going to the fridge.

You eagerly tilt your head back, sticking your tongue out, hands clasped merrily as he presses the nozzle of the can and shhhhhh it into you mouth, getting revenge by intentionally over filling too much for you to be able to close your lips around it. Then he drizzles the chocolate syrup on top, making your mouth a vertical Sundae.

You try to swallow around the concoction, lips pursing to encase the top of the pile, but it's all too much and you choke a little bit, sending a miniaturized cannon of white cream and dark sauce splattering back on to Joel's nose.

With a gasping mouth full of ice cream toppings, you chortle over laughing and kicking your feet comically while clapping your hands, desperate to swallow the mess and breathe a lung full of air at the same time through your teary eyes.

Joel just puts his hands on his hips, letting you have your laugh at him.

Then you gasp out loud--the panicked, serious, bone chilling one where you stop laughing and kicking altogether, lips trembling and terrified as your hand drifts south to cup your lower belly, feeling a sudden rush of liquid staining your bum, and that dreaded big something has abruptly DROPPED inside you.

You slowly bring your wide eyes back at Joel, who's tight lipped gaze matches yours of tense panic despite the glob of Cool Whip hanging off his snout.

You gargle with the sugary fluffy dessert still in your mouth, "Mah wawa bwoke."

-

Series Masterlist

Permanent taglist

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover

[serendipnpipity]

The Magician: “The representation of pure willpower. With the power of the elements and the suits, he takes the potential innate in the fool and molds it into being with the power of desire.” (x) 

Not-so-little design breakdown below!

Of course Phil had to be the Magician. Take a look at his TATINOF and II segments—the literal reference is already there (and can be seen in his outfit, which is a mix of the TATINOF magician’s tuxedo and the II red button-up).

Not only that, the Magician is characterized as a “master manifester”. How many of this guy’s tarot predictions have come true? Talk about psychic manifestation abilities.

The wand held by the Magician traditionally represents balance, being a “perfect union” of two ends of a candle (x). What’s a more perfect union than PINOF itself, the pinnacle union of dnp’s channels in those first ten years? Hence, the wand in his hand became a Sharpie, and to mimic light emanating out of what would be a candle flame traditionally, I added cat whiskers in bright yellow.

The workbench in front of the Magician holds all four suits (pentacles, cups, swords, wands) to symbolize how everything can be channeled together to create (sorry, “craft”, taken verbatim from the website) new ideas and endeavors. The bench itself I stole straight out of the phouse (other side partial kitchen reveal yay), while the suits have been turned into dnp-project-related objects. The pentacle (glitterface pentagram) and sword (slime knife) are from DAPC, while the wand (Wii remote) and cup (Flame Susan mocktail) are from DAPG. 

This card, helpfully, is surrounded by plants; I chose some of their non-crispy houseplants for the background. In the back, obviously, is the vine creeping along the cool black wall in the kitchen area. In the front, the fronds are inspired by plants I could see in the background of the 2nd London apartment AP set, accompanied by two roses (orange, for the flowers Dan receives at the end of WAD… and the orange heart). 

I saw in the visual breakdown for the card that one site says the infinity above the Magician’s head represents “the equilibrium of opposites that The Magician requires to create”. That is THE most Dan and Phil thing I have ever heard, with all their cosmically coincidental opposite characteristics. 

When I drew that infinity on the background though, on the phouse wall, it hit me. This is the “forever home”. Of course, there’s an infinity sign plastered on top of it. This revelation was so strong, I broke down and texted @bewareofthenewphannie about it.

Oh, and ginger quiff Phil? Thank Misty for that one, they suggested it would be a good look if I wanted to combine past and present in one outfit/style.

All in all, I had so much fun making this! What a pleasure and an honor to be a part of such a beautiful project. 🧡

@dnptarot

[squerlly]

flames of desire chapter 5: bonding exercise

Alastor x (f! bunny reader) -Fluff- chapter 1

your POV:

through out my time here in hell I have grown accustomed to the musty hot atmosphere of the underworld and the loud mornings of screaming, gun shots, and road rage, its hell after all and there technically isn't any rules. me and angel hang out a lot more, behind his sex jokes and playful demeaner hes a great friend. husk and I are cool I suppose, according to him I'm more tolerable. Nifftys a bit crazy and energetic but I enjoy helping her clean sometimes, but one person that's been on my mind a lot is Alastor. hes always watching me, I catch him staring at me with that weird smile, I wonder if his face hurts from smiling all the time...none of my business what he does I just wish he wasn't so eerie. I was in the lobby this morning when Charlie called us over for a "bonding exercise", seeing everybody gathered in there seats I sit on the couch next to angel, "good morning everybody thank you for comingggg, I would like to have you all here for a little bonding time yayy!!!..." the silence was defiantly loud... "uhm- well I though we could all do something fun like drawing!" standing behind her vaggie comes out with paper, markers, and crayons "oooo colors" niffty giggles "what's does this look like kinder garden?" "angel please try and at least participate" letting out an annoyed grumble he agrees "fineee..." "great! were all going in partners and you will draw each other, that sound fun right!!?" oh no... "charlies with me, husks with angel, and Alastors with y/n, nifftys can uhm..." "oh oh can I be the judge!!!" "sure..." "you gotta be fucken kidding me..." "aww cmon whiskers I'm not that baddd~" walking to there partners I turn to see Alastor sitting on the arm chair looking at me with a wide grin on his face, "fuck me..." I grumble walking over to sit on the floor beside him "well my dear looks like its just me and you" "yeah... me and you" grabbing two pieces of papers and some crayons "I cant even draw..." "oh don't worry I'm sure you will do just fine!" "why am I doing this again..." "cheer up dear this is supposed to be fun after all, I cant be that hard to draw" "yeah your right just need two colors" scribbling on the paper I start at the base of his face, doodling his creepy smile and red hair, looking up I see him studying me curiously "what's the matter, am I hard to draw?" I say smugly "not at all dear your quite easy to draw" ouch, thanks...

Alastors POV:

I never really focused any time on things such as art, yes I can cook and maybe play the piano but drawings not one of my few good skills although ill give it a shot. I would have never guessed I would be sitting here doing one of charlies silly little projects, attempting to draw y/n I look at here for a while, this is the closest I have ever really been next to her, my she really is small it makes me want to squeez her tiny little body, her head could fit in my hand easily. I have noticed a few things while observing her, her ears twitch when she's focused on things like now, her pink bunny nose twitches when she's scared, and her fluffy tail wags when she's exited or annoyed what a strange individual...

your POV:

"ok guys once your done with your drawings you will show them off to your partners!!", as a few minutes pass by I have finished my drawing and well I'm quite disappointed in myself, man I should have taken art class in high school "I finished if your ready to show them" hell no... "I- I'm done but I don't think I wanna... "oh I'm sure its not that bad" giving the drawing one last glance I turn the page I show him the drawing facing away to hide what little dignity I had left. hearing a quiet static buzz noise I look back up seeing him looking at the drawing with a questionable face "I know its badd!!!" "w-well I wouldn't say that dear its just..." "just say its bad!" "its interesting" "well what does yours look like?" turning his page my jaw drops to the floor, what is this creepy deer man not good at "its not my best work but-" "are you kidding me Al this is good!" standing up I grab the drawing, it was in crayon but it looked just like me. pausing I try to tone down my excitement seeing alastor wide eyed from my reaction "I'm glad you like it dear" "what cant you do" "well I did say I was a man of many talents but drawing isn't one of them" "do you uhh mind if I keep this..." "not at all dear~" "you don't have to keep mine you can just throw it-" "nonsense its mine isn't it?" "yes.." "then I will keep it". for once he seemed to have a genuine smile on his face, not some creepy ass smile, its kind of nice...

Alastors POV:

I don't know why but I wanted to keep her silly little drawing, its...cute?. it looks nothing like me but its quite amusing seeing her all embarrassed. I was surprised to see she liked my drawing, her eyes lit up with a small smile on her face, it feels good to know my work is appreciated even in the... strangest things it gives me a sense of pride, I might hang it in my radio tower...

your POV:

looking at everybody else I saw Charlie bouncing on her heels looking at a little doodle vaggie made how cute~, husk made a sloppy doodle of angel and angel just drew himself. niffty was running around looking at others drawings, eventually she got around to ours, climbing on my shoulder she looks at Alastors drawing "ooooOooo you look so cute in the picture!!" I smile a bit "thanks niff" grabbing her off my shoulder I set her down "well that's the end of the exercise, how was it!" "ehh it wasn't to bad" "it was alright" "whatever...im going back to the bar" Charlie puts on a little smile "well do one again next week, maybe we could make cookies together or do all about ME's oh oh!! what about-" "ok hon slow down" "sorry". this was nice, hell isn't that bad, at least not here. better than home...

hey guys!!! I was supposed to release this earlier but I'm a little sick right now from the cold weather but I refuse to let you guys down! I made this chapter a little longer than usual so I hope you guys loved this cute chapter as much as I did, love you guys have a good day/night

-squerlly

for more content or chapter please click this masterlist

@pooplyface1423 @strippezzz

[idontknowreallyidontcare]

GHOST HC FOR GIRLIES WHO LOVE CATS!

It’s not so long ago since you first got Whiskers, your cute, small ginger cat. You rescued him from the streets, having found him starving and cold, you didn’t think twice before taking him home with you.

This cat got so attached to you, following you everywhere, kissing you and telling you ‘I love you’ with his eyes every chance he got.

A new cute habit he recently developed was making biscuits on you. Well, more like on your ass. You’ll be laying in your bed, reading or just scrolling on your phone, and there he is, sinking his pointy nails into the soft flesh of your cheeks, purring and making soft content noises. You never got it in you to correct him or shush him away, being that he only recently started to feel so safe about finally making biscuits, so you left him be, despite your boyfriend’s protests.

Now while you love the cat, and the cat totally adores you, Ghost cannot be near the demon. Both of them jealous of each other, your cat would scratch and launch himself at Ghost every chance he got, and Ghost would close him outside your bedroom to “teach this lil shit a lesson!” as he says. He knew this little devil would not let y’all have a moment of peace together. He could not touch you, let alone be intimate when the red gremlin was in sight. He was literally cockblocked by a cat that knew suspiciously too well when to come and stick his noisy and overly affectionate self between you two.

Today was no different for Whiskers, he was on his usual schedule of making biscuits on your ass, and the jealousy Ghost fell after seeing the gremlin touch his girl like that was indescribable.

Not in a moment of his life he thought he would be jealous of a cat, yet here he was. Face to face with his sworn enemy, while he continued to stick its claws into the soft of your booty, watching Ghost almost with a smug face. Ghost couldn’t do anything but look at the little cockblocker touching you, because you would get mad if he tried to scold the little red haired devil. So all he could do was sit next to you in bed and watch you read, just enjoy your company, because touching was not an option, or he’d get scratched again.

He has beef with that cat but loves you so much, so he puts up with him. They both do actually. He never thought about hurting Whiskers, he could never no matter how jealous he was about sharing your attention. He actually thinks the cat is cool, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be friends anytime soon, especially after his gaze lands on the few fresh scratches and some old scars left by the little shit on his hands.

[hainfulcupid]

Obsessed with this motherfucker so im gonna drop a few random headcanons about him

ALL ARE SFW AND JUST SILLY STUFF ☝️ im not used to sharing my headcanons publicly like this hyuck hyuck

there’s very little to go off of from this media since all we really have is a pilot with bare , and i MEAN BARE lore to go off of so a lot of this is really me filling in blanks becus im Insane .

> Nordic bunny’s planet has a robotic look to it, i think that he built it himself out of complete boredom along with its inhabitants (that he probably destroys too, out of boredom….)

> I like to think that his guitar strings function like cat whiskers, they aid him in vision and processing the world around him. They’ve definitely busted a few times during battle, causing him to be disoriented for a bit.

> Hates things that are vaguely shaped like snakes (do NOT BRING A CUCUMBER NEAR THIS MAN)

> purrs….meows…does all those silly cat sounds but they’ve got an electric guitar sound effect

> has retractable claws, they do wonders for a man needs a quick escape route !!!!

> related to the thing above, oh he so absolutely adores scratching things up . has the biggest scratching post ever .

> He’s lonely, not like he intends to be but his personality is offputting to many, one of those people who you have a hard time reading into the things they say because every word that comes out of his mouth always sounds insulting. naturally judgmental, thinks he has a keen eye for fashion despite wearing only undies.

> what is his deal with the undies anyways ? i think he has sensory issues so he wears very minimal clothing thinking he’s serving absolute cunt but no ones ever told him how dorky he looked, and if any of his minions did well…..lets just say They’re no longer with us.

> definitely has a weird way of giving gifts…you know how cats bring you things they’ve hunted? well he’s no different, he wants THAT praise he wants you to tell him how competent he is.

> his tail is an indicator of his mood, follows the same rules of a cat .

LOOK AT HIM. TELL ME THIS ISNT TRUE.

> claims he can’t fucking stand emotional music, but listens to sad 80s rock . but no one will see that, they’ll see him as the dude who’s constantly blasting oldies metal classics .

> I AM A NORDIC BUNNY FANG HAVER TRUTHER . I JUST KNOW HED HAVE A TONGUE PIERCING TOO .

> he’s so reluctant to touch, he never knows if he fully enjoys it or not, you’ll be petting down his back and feel his back quiver almost like it’s trying to avoid your touch but he’s also - purring…he’s a confusing little guy…

> If he ever does manage to form something vaguely friendship like, he’d suck ass at managing the connection, oh you invite him to a party ? he sends you an image of himself stuck in the toilet with a text underneath saying “SOZZ . CANT GO. TOILET TROUBLEZ”

> that being said , not having a lot of experiences with relationships, he’d have an avoidant attachment style, he’d also. subconsciously be as unlikable as possible, he has no clue what defines being cool and likable he’s a little clung onto “be as cool and mysterious as possible”

> says “mrr?” instead of “hm?”

> Oh. in my mind he uses he/she pronouns . finds comfort in expressing femininity .

> I can’t see this guy having a preference for dating… he will take anyone who can break through the massive thick wall he puts up.

THATS ALL FOR NOW UHHH UHHHH

[layce2015]

The Boys (Soldier Boy x Female!Supe!Reader)

Chapter 4: Glorious Five Year Plan

Chapter 1 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Present Day

*(y/n)’s POV*

"It's Solid Gold, starring Marilyn McCoo. With Solid Gold recording stars Kim Carnes, the Oak Ridge Boys, Waylan Flowers and Madame, the Solid Gold Dancers, and our first very special guest of the night, Soldier Boy!" The announcer from the show said as I sit there in my living room, watching, Bethany sitting next to me.

The camera pans down on the stage to show Ben, wearing his superhero suit including that helmet, standing on the stage as he begins to sing.

Fab Five Freddy told me everybody's fly

DJ spinning, I said, "My, my"

Flash is fast, Flash is cool

François c'est pas, Flash ain't no dude

And you don't stop, sure shot

Go out to the parking lot

And you get in your car and you drive real far

And you drive all night and then you see a light

It comes right down and lands on the ground

And out comes a man from Mars

And you try to run, but he's got a gun

And he shoots you dead, and he eats your head

And then you're in the man from Mars

You go out at night, eating cars

You eat Cadillacs, Lincolns, too...

As he sings, he did dance a bit then walked across the stage as the female back-up dancers surround him, all of them placing their hands on any part of him they could touch. And even watching this old rerun now, I still felt a bit jealous of seeing this just as I was when I was there on that show. I remember being a bit annoyed while I was standing backstage watching this from a TV screen.

"Weren't you on this episode as well?" Bethany asked me. "Yeah, I was." I muttered.

Sure enough, when Ben's song ended the camera switches to show the disco ball hanging from the ceiling as the announcer said. "And now for our second special guest, Mystic Shade!"

And the camera pans down to show me, in my superhero suit, on the stage, leaning against a tall white platform and I hold the microphone up to my lips. "Oh, there you are!" Bethany said, in a teasing manner, and I rolled my eyes.

Girls! Girls!

Watch out! Watch out!

I turn my head to look out at the crowd and I stand up, straighter.

There's a two legged animal running about

If it smokes a great big cigar

And it hangs around at a bar

If it tells the biggest lies, wears the loudest ties

It's a man

If it acts just like a crossed patch

Has a face with whiskers that scratch

If it's stubborn as can be, mean and ornery

It's a man

I watched myself saunter across the stage as I sang this old song, I raised a finger as if pointing out to the crowd before I lowered my arm, continuing to sing. "Wow, look at you go." Bethany teased and I scoff out a laugh.

It if walks, if it talks

If its habits are a little bit peculiar

If it brags and tries to make you think it's wonderful

Be on the lookout, don't let it fool ya

But if it makes the moon up on high,

More than just a light in the sky

If it kisses you and you find you like it too

GRAB IT!

It's a man

At the point I sang GRAB IT I raised my right hand up and clenched it into a fist then unclenched it and placed it on my hips as I do a bit of a dance with a smile, continuing to sing the song.

"Good God, I look so ridiculous." I muttered. "No, you don't. You're now sounding like an old woman." Bethany said, a bit of sarcasm, and I look over at her, she of course had aged a bit, wrinkles had appeared on her face and her hair was turning gray but I could still see that young girl I met back in the 70's underneath all those wrinkles.

"Well, you do realize I'm a little over a hundred years old. I think I deserve to sound like one." I said, smiling. "And yet you still look like you're in your early 30's." Bethany said and I chuckle. "Yes, bathing in virgin's blood does have its perks." I joked and we laugh.

"What? That's the secret? Why didn't you tell me?!" Bethany asked me, in a fake offended voice. "It's a curse I must bare." I said, dramatically, and we laugh and go back to watching the show as I continue to sing the song.

It if walks, if it talks

If its habits are a little bit peculiar

If it brags and tries to make you think it's wonderful

Be on the lookout, don't let it fool ya

And then one of the male backup dancers, dressed in a suit, comes up next to me and gets down on one knee.

But if it's kneelin' down on one knee

Sayin' darling please marry me

Then don't hesitate, better name the date and then

I had walked over to the man and caressed his cheek for a moment then lowered my hand to his tie as I sang the next few lines.

GRAB IT!

HOLD IT!

HANG ONTO IT! 

I grabbed the man's tie, yanked on it to make him stand up and pull him close to me. The guy looked surprised but also seemed to like it as I give him a flirty smile.

For It's a man

I belted out that last line then I pulled the man down towards me and I kissed him. I face-palmed at this while Bethany said. "Ooooohhh."

The music stops and the guy and I break the kiss and we share a smile before the camera switches to a different guest. "I'm gonna guess Ben wasn't happy about that kiss, was he?" Bethany asked me and I shake my head. "No, he wasn't." I said. "He didn't hurt you, did he?" Bethany asked me, concerned, and I shake my head as the memory of what happened after I left the stage came to mind, a smile slowly forming on my face.

"No, he didn't. He, uh...he did something else." I said and Bethany looks at me then noticed my smile. "Oh, I know that smile. Give me details!" She demanded and I shake my head. "A lady never kiss and tells." I said and we share a laugh again. We look back at the TV and my mind began to wander back to that night of the filming of this episode.

Flashback

I walked backstage after the performance and a few people smiled and congratulated me as I walk past them. Then I look over at Ben, who did not look happy. “What the fuck was that?” He asked me, angrily. “What was what?” I asked, feigning ignorance. I start to walk past him but he grabs my arm and I turn to face him.

”You know damn well what I mean.” He growls and I smirk at him. “Ease up, Soldier Boy. Jealousy is not a good look on you. Besides, it was all an act.” I said. “You sure? Because it didn’t look like an act.” He said and my smile grew. Honestly, I was having fun messing with him. “So what if it was?” I asked him then I lean into him. “What are you gonna do about it?” I asked and I see his eyes darken as he glares at me.

Most people would’ve backed down from this glare but I didn’t. Because I could see the lust and desire in his eyes, which told me I was in for it.

I let out a moan that really sounded like it could've come out of a porno as Ben shoved me up against the wall of his dressing room, thrusting roughly into me, my legs wrapped around his waist.

"Fuck, Ben!" I exclaimed. "That's right, you better say my name! Not that asshole you kissed! You are mine!" Ben growls as his thrusts become harder. I let out a strangled moan as I started to feel drunk with how good Ben was making me feel until I felt his thumb rubbing my most sensitive spot.

I cried out again as Ben said, with a low growl. "This is mine! No one else's! Say it. Say that this pussy is mine!" Then his thumb works faster and my walls clench around him even harder. "Y-Y-Yours...always....I'm..yours..." I was able to say in between gasps and moans I was letting out.

"You damn right you are!" Ben growls in my ear as he pounds into me and rubs that sensitive spot even faster and harder.

And at that moment, I shut my eyes and felt them roll back as a very powerful orgasm washes over me. "BEN!" I screamed out in ecstasy and then he growls out my name in my ear as I feel him release himself inside of me.

The both of us stilled and catch our breath until we hear a knock at the door. Both of us look towards the door, lazily, when the voice of the producer of the show calls out. "Soldier Boy, you and Mystic Shade are up in ten minutes."

"Okay, thanks. We'll be out there." Ben said and we hear the guy leave. Ben turns to look at me then gives me a soft kiss on the lips. "Looks like round two is gonna have to wait." He said as he pulls out of me. I hiss at this and set my wobbling legs on the floor before he walks over to his table that was next to us.l

"There's more?" I asked, breathlessly, as he goes to grab a towel and wipes himself clean, puts his pants back on then zips it up. "Yeah...gotta make my girl know who she belongs to." He said as he comes up to me and cleans me up as well.

"Well, in that case...I should be punishing you in round two." I said, smirking, and zipping up my pants once he finished. "How so? I didn't go kissing anybody." Ben said, tossing the towel aside. "Oh, but you did let all those girls touch you, let them run their hands all over you." I said as I sauntered over to him, my legs still feeling a bit like jelly.

I get up close to him and I grab his crotch, he tensed up at this and he let's out a small sigh through his nose. "If my pussy is yours then this dick is mine. And no one else can have it, no other woman should be touching you, understand?" I asked him and I could hear a low growl coming from him as I tightened my grip on it.

"Yes, ma'am." He said, lowly, and I give a seductive smile. "Good boy." I cooed and I kiss his cheek then let him go and go towards the door. "Where you going?" He asked me and I turn to face him. "Gotta go clean up my face and hair. Probably look like a used whore." I said and Ben looks me up and down. "More like properly fucked, in my opinion." He said, with that cheeky grin, and I rolled my eyes.

"I'll see you out there, Soldier Boy." I said, in a sultry voice. "See you later, Mystic Shade." Ben said and I walk out of the dressing room.

Present Day

I sighed a bit as Bethany pats my arm and points to the TV. "I forgot you two did a duet!" She exclaims and I look at the screen as it showed me and Ben back on stage, I must've being off on la la land in my head for awhile cause I remember our duet was at the ending of the episode.

The music intro to Endless Love began to play as Ben starts to sing first, both of us facing each other.

My love

There's only you in my life

The only thing that's right

I smiled at him as I bring my microphone up to my lips.

My first love

You're every breath that I take

You're every step I make

Then we sang together.

And I want to share

All my love with you

No one else will do

And your eyes (Your eyes, your eyes)

They tell me how much you care

Oh, yes, you will always be

My endless love

"You know, even though you told me about the crap you two went through, I still think you two made a good-looking couple. Better than him and that, what was her name? Crimson Countess?" Bethany said, thinking. "Yeah..." I muttered as I look down for a moment then back to the TV.

Two hearts

Two hearts that beat as one

Our lives have just begun

Forever

I'll hold you close in my arms

I can't resist your charms

And love

I'll be a fool for you, I'm sure

You know I don't mind

'Cause you, you mean the world to me, oh

I know

I've found in you my endless love

I felt this great wave of sadness overcome me and I get up and head to the kitchen. "(Y/n)?" Bethany called out to me as I head to the fridge. "You okay?" She asked as she follows me while I grab a beer bottle.

"Yeah, I just..." I stopped then opened the bottle and started to chug down the beer. "Hey..." Bethany said as she comes up to me and places a hand on my shoulder. "I know I should be over it but....fuck, Bethany, it's hard." I said and Bethany nods. 

"I know, I mean, I wouldn't know how I'd feel or do if Steven died. Let alone forty years after the time." Bethany said. "I know he was an asshole and a bastard but he was the only one that knew what I was going through, what I had been through. He was mostly good to me; couple of things he did, did annoy me. But I still love him." I said then she hugs me.

*3rd Person POV*

Maeve was swinging her sword around, like she was getting ready for battle. She jumps, rolls and swings the sword around until she hears a knock at the door. She opens it and sees it was Starlight. “Hi. Can we talk?” she asked. “No.” Maeve said, flatly, and she goes to shut the door but Starlight stops her. “Maeve, please.” Starlight pleads and Maeve sighs then lets her in and Starlight closes the door.

”I heard that you stopped training.” Starlight said as she noticed that Maeve had moved her furniture around where there was a large space in the middle of the room. “Yeah? You also hear that I wake up six days a week hungover, tits-deep in some random fսck pile? People think what I want them to.” Maeve said as she walks over to the kitchen island. “Okay, listen. Have you ever heard of something called B.C.L. RED?” Starlight asked her as Maeve gets a drink.

”You mean a weapon that can kill Homelander, if Butcher can find it?” Maeve asked her, knowingly. “You know?” Starlight asked, surprised, and Maeve smiles. “Who do you think sent them down the rabbit hole? Actually, I should say I had help with that but still…I brought it up to them. It's why I'm training. Or haven't had a drink in four awful, shit-eating months. Maybe I can buy Butcher a second or two to get a good shot. At the very least, I'll get a couple of licks in.” Maeve said. “Wait, so who gave you the information about this weapon?” Starlight asked and Maeve glares at her.

”Why should I tell you that?” Maeve asked her. “Well, whoever this person is, could join us. I mean, this person obviously wants to help.” Starlight said. “She only wanted to give out the information about the weapon and that’s it.” Maeve said and Starlight furrows her brow. “She?” She said but Maeve doesn’t reply.

“Okay. Okay, okay. So there's you, me and your mystery friend. Maybe we can find some others.” Starlight said. “Right. Yeah. I'm sure you and Duluth's Most Mighty would really get the job done. And I told you, my mystery friend doesn’t want any part of this. This is my problem. I'm the one who was with the asshоlе.” Maeve said.

“Maeve...you cannot do this alone. He'll kill you.” Starlight pleads and Maeve rolls her eyes. “You really care that little about yourself?” Starlight asked her. “I got it coming.” Maeve said before she walks over to her sword and starts to swish it around again.

*(y/n)’s POV*

“Okay, here is one scotch for the pretty lady.” Steven said to me as he hands me a glass of the drink. “Thanks, Steven. I said as I accepted it. I had gone over to Bethany’s and Steven’s house for the night to just have something to keep my mind occupied. Steven is Bethany’s husband for almost forty years and he always had this cheery carefree attitude, even at the age he is now.

“And, of course, for the lovely lady…bourbon!” Steven said to Bethany as she takes it. “A man after my heart.” Bethany said. “I should be the only man!” Steven chuckles and Bethany pretends to think. “Hmm, I don’t know..there is that cute young man at the coffee shop…” she said. “Well, then I better go pay him a visit, show him what happens when you try to get my girl.” He said and the two laugh and I smile and shake my head as I take a drink.

”Oh, and how are you gonna do that? Hit him with your cane?” Bethany asked him, teasingly, as she gestures to the black cane leaning against their couch. “Nah…I’ll just send (y/n) after him.” He said. “And what makes you think I’ll agree to that?” I asked him. “I’ll let you keep beating me at poker!” He said and my jaw drops.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked him. “Well, not to brag but…my superpower is that I am really good at poker. I just didn’t want to show off and let you win so you wouldn’t feel bad.” Steven said and I scoff out a laugh. “Oh, really? Well, c’mon, sonny, put your money where your mouth is!” I said and Steven claps. “Alright, grandma!” Steven teased as he goes to grab his deck of cards but then Bethany looks over at the TV.

”Whoa, whoa, wait a minute! Look!” She said and Steven and I look at the screen to see that there was a news broadcast. It said Neuman Holds FBSA Press Conference on the news banner and Neuman gets up to the podium. “Good afternoon. Thank you all for being here. I'm Congresswoman Victoria Neuman, the director of the Federal Bureau of Superhuman Affairs. For the last year, the Bureau has been working with Vought International under one guiding principle. The most powerful among us are not above the law, including the most powerful man at the company.” Neuman said then she pauses, looks to the side and takes a breath.

”Homelander...has bravely come forward as a whistleblower and provided evidence of crimes committed within Vought by CEO Stan Edgar.” Neuman said and the crowd gasps while mine, Steven’s and Bethany’s jaw drops at this. “And in the coming days, the FBSA will be investigating charges of blackmail, perjury and obstruction of justice against Mr. Edgar. Vought International must be held to the highest ethical and legal standards. The people are entitled to the truth about their heroes...” She said while Bethany and Steven share a look.

”What the hell?” Steven mutters and I furrowed my brow. “I don’t like this. Especially if Homelander is the one that gave that information to her….” I said. “Why do you hate Homelander so much?” Steven asked me. “I don’t know…there’s something…off about him. And I know how things went there at Vought…” I replied. “Plus, Homelander dated a Nazi, isn’t that bad enough?” Bethany asked.

“But he didn’t know…I mean, didn’t you know her as Liberty, (y/n)?” Steven asked me. “Not really well, course I thought something was off about her too back then.” I said and he sighs. “Look, I’m not defending him, I mean, I’m not a huge fan of the guy either but…some men make mistakes when they love a woman. I mean, it came out earlier he and Starlight are a thing now.” He said. 

Bethany hums at this while I stay quiet about this. I don’t know but I think that whole Starlight and Homelander paring is a load of crap and trying to deflect his whole thing with Stormfront.

*3rd Person POV*

Meanwhile, in Russia, Butcher, Frenchie, Kimiko, Hughie and M.M. went to infiltrate a military compound to find the weapon, thanks to Nina. Nina was Frenchie’s old associate and he got tangled back up with her was because his old girlfriend, Cherie, begged him for help to get her out.

So, for that, the boys had to a job for her then she would have her people help them get to the compound. They were able to cut the power out at the compound to make the Russian soldiers leave and they make their way inside.

“Any idea what this Supe gun is supposed to look like?” M.M. asked Butcher. “Ain't the joy in the discovery, eh?” Butcher said and they look around until they see a large metal tube. What is it?” Hughie asked as they look at it then Butcher looks over some papers nearby while Frenchie looks at this large glass case.

“Hey, there's something here. Look.” Frenchie said as he shines his light into the case where he sees a small hamster inside. “Look, look. Oh.” Frenchie said and M.M. comes up next to him to see the hamster. “Hey. What does it say?” Frenchie asked as he shines his light at the label that was written in Russian. “Says his name is Jamie.” M.M. said before he chuckles. “Jamie. Hi. Are you okay, Jamie?” Frenchie asked the hamster as he taps the glass. “No, no, no, don't fսck with it. Just leave him alone.” M.M. tells him and Frenchie chuckles.

”Aw. Jamie. Who's a handsome, petite, little gerbil?” Frenchie said as the hamster scurried around in the cage and Kimiko comes up and smiles. “It's a hamster. My daughter went through three of them.” M.M. clarifies then suddenly Jamie rapidly pounds around in the case, scaring the others. “Oh, shit! Motherfucking V'd-up hamster.” M.M. said, surprised.

At that moment, alarms start blaring. “told you not to fսck with him. Damn it.” M.M. growls at Frenchie and Butcher turns to them. “Look lively!” He shouts and every pulls out their guns and get ready for a fight.

Immediately, the Russian soldiers come in and start firing at the team and the boys all take cover and fire back at them. One soldier was able to corner Frenchie but Jamie, who had gotten out, flies up and burrows into the soldier’s eye, making him scream out in pain before falling over dead.

“Merci, Jamie.” Frenchie said as he nods to the hamster.

“I'm out!” M.M. shouts and Butcher fires his gun but he stops and looks at the others as they try to take cover. Butcher looks over at Hughie, who was hiding, then smiles at him then walks out. “Oi! Evening, cսոts.” He shouts at the soldiers and he walks out. The soldier firing at him but no damage was done to him, thanks to the Temp V.

The others watch this in shock and disbelief as Butcher uses laser eyes to take out the Russians, then he grabbed the nearest one and breaks his neck. Hughie then noticed a soldier coming up behind M.M. “M.M.!” Hughie shouts and he starts to run then teleports to the soldier and punches through the soldier.

”Oh! Oh! Oh, shit. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Uh...” Hughie grunts and pants then pulls his arm out of the soldiers body, revealing him to be completely naked. Butcher glares at Hughie, realizing that he had taken some Temp V without him knowing, and everyone stared in shock. Kimiko covers her eyes as Hughie chuckles softly. “Your dіck's out.” M.M. said, plainly, and Hughie looks down at himself then goes to grab his clothes and puts them on.

”Butcher?” M.M. asked, angrily. “All right, all right, look, hang about.” Butcher tries to defuse. “You and Hughie both took Compound V? What are you two, fսcking Supes now?” M.M. asked. “Temporary V.” Butcher said then Kimiko signs at him while Hughie picks up the busted cast he was wearing, smiling.

”Oh, she say, Why do you do this to yourself on purpose?" Frenchie translates. “Only lasts 24 hours, all right? Break glass in case of emergencies, you know, like this one.” Butcher said. “And you give this to-to Hughie?” Frenchie asked. “I didn't give it to him. The thieving git must have broken into the case and nicked it.” Butcher said as he glares over at Hughie, who looks at him then stammers.

”Let's just find this thing and get the fսck out of here, all right?” Butcher said and M.M. turns to Hughie. “You're better than this, kid.” He said and Hughie scoffs. “Butcher, I'm...Look...I'm s...I'm sorry, okay? It's just, I...” Hughie said then he laughs softly and everyone walks away from him.

Butcher walks up to the large container and he grabs at the edges of the panel and pulls it open. Smoke billows out of it and everyone steps closer to it to see there was a person inside of it. The smoke starts to clear up and they see it is a man with long hair and a beard, a breathing mask was over his mouth and nose and he was restrained inside. The man lets out a breath which is filtered through the mask and he opens his eyes to look at them, Butcher recognized the man.

“Soldier Boy.” Butcher whispered, shocked. Soldier Boy moved his arms to break the restraints off of his arms then takes off the wires then the mask and starts to walk out of the tube, naked as the day he was born. He looks around at everyone then turns as Frenchie stands in front of him. “Ah... It's okay.” He tries to assure. 

Suddenly, a bright orange glow appears in his chest then bursts out of him, Soldier Boy yells as Kimiko runs to Frenchie and pushes him out of the way as she gets hit with the blast and crashes through the wall. The glow dissipates and Soldier Boy grunts then he stumbles through the hole in the wall and walks away.

“Kimiko. It's okay. Huh? It's okay.” Frenchie said as he goes to Kimiko, but she had a barbed wire through her abdomen and she wasn’t healing like she normally does. “She's not healing. Why she's not healing? Kimiko. Why does she not heal? Kimiko. She's not healing!” Frenchie panicked and the boys gather her up and carry her to their van.

@winchestergirl1720 @deans-spinster-witch @mimaria420 @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @kitsun369 @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @deangirl96 @demodemo909 @cassiecasluciluce

[auteurdelabre]

I don’t know if you take requests but I love your writing and I’m dying for a slow burn in post outbreak Jackson. Joel and fem reader strangers to friends to eventual lovers. Reader is in love with Joel from the beginning and is like him strong silent type but with a heart of gold. Lots of pinning and then a surprise when it turns out Joel pines for her too and Tommy and Ellie know that he loves her. Maybe some jealousy thrown in before soft dom Joel to sub reader smut. Then a snippet of them together after confession of love so you can hear what other towns folk think about them. Anyway, if you don’t take asks that’s totally cool and I look forward to reading whatever you write! :)

EDIT: I DID THE DAMN THING.

rating: 18+

words: 4.1k

a/n: I hope you like this @ashleyfilm.

Joel’s Eyes

The autumn chill of Jackson City winds around the sleepy hamlet nestled snugly within the Wyoming landscape.  The open window allows a breeze to ruffle the blankets on the end of the bed, your body moving rhythmically over his. He holds you by the hips, fingertips dimpling your flesh as you ride him; thighs spread wide and whimpers falling like snow over his body. His dark eyes stay fixed on you, his smile gentle as he encourages you to keep going.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs. “You keep goin’, baby. Just like that.”

It’s been three years since Joel and Ellie arrived and set up their permanent home. A snug rancher with a garage for Ellie to convert to her teenage heart’s content.  Three years since his lie to her that still sat somewhere wedged behind his sternum, but a lie he could ignore over drinks at the Tipsy Bison or hours spent carving in his shed out back.

It’s been eleven months since you arrived with your brother and his husband to Jackson. Living in the Denver QZ was nothing compared to the wide-open spaces of Wyoming. The food was plentiful, the community kind and warm.

Your brother Anthony gripped Hank’s hand a little tighter as they were shown one of the available houses on Magnolia Street. A sweet little spot with two bedrooms and bright windows. Maria and Tommy mentioned that there was another space for you as well if you wanted to look at it, a one bedroom one street over. You’d been thrown at the concept, having lived with your brother your entire life.

You didn’t want that to change. You didn’t trust the bright endless sky above you. Didn’t trust the neighbors that smiled without sharp fangs. It didn’t  feel quite real to ask for bread and not have to give a part of yourself in return. You were wary of everything.

The first night you watched the moon rise from the window of your very own bedroom with its soft bedding and firm pillows. Despite the comfort of your surroundings there was an ache, a loneliness you couldn’t understand.

You were out of the house most days, feeling like a burden to your brother and his endlessly patient husband. It made you seek out Maria and ask where you could volunteer your time in a quiet voice. You needed to give back to this place that gave you plentiful nutritious food and a warm bed.

She’d been eager to show you the different spots in town; the kitchen, the old church, the textile room, the library. You wanted to see everything, barely speaking, and all big eyes on the landmarks she pointed out with Tommy’s hand in hers.

“These are the stables,” she told you as you ambled after them. “They get taken care of by those that do the patrols.”

You nodded as you glanced around the large space, eyes falling on the different colored horses inside. Many were leaning over the wooden gates, eager at the new faces and hoping for a treat. One with a diamond pattern on its forehead intrigued you into reaching a hand out to pet it.  It huffed warm air along your bare palm, its whiskers scouring lifelines for a nibble.  A husky voice accompanied shuffled boots in your direction.

“New patrolee?”

“Nah just showing her around,” Tommy’s voice replied.

You glanced over your shoulder to see a broad-shouldered man with warm but serious eyes and dark curls threaded with grey that fell just below his ears. The minute you saw him it was like Cupid himself came down to spear you brutally between the ribs. A sharp sting that sent you backwards a step, the breath knocked out of you.

A sensation wholly new to you overtook your body. The nerves that had been choking you suddenly dissipated, leaving you warm and strangely calm.

Joel gave you a sharp nod before heading into a pen marked “Glimmer”. Your eyes stayed on his frame until he receded from view. The mere sight of his soulful eyes had made your breathing come out in tiny huffs that gave Maria an amused pause.

“That’s Joel,” she offered casually, though her glance to Tommy was anything but. “His brother.”

“Oh.”

You didn’t offer more than that.

But you did come back to the stables the next day and the day after that. You brought in feed and mucked out stalls. You did this all with the same solemnity that was in your nature. You met new people but rarely offered your smile to them. You didn’t trust that it would be accepted or handled with care.  

But there was no Joel.

It wasn’t until you’d been doing it a week that you saw him again. He was guiding Glimmer into her pen and he looked exhausted. You had always kept to yourself out of the way, but something about Joel’s presence carried your feet in his direction. It made you hover near the pens and hold out your hand for the reins.

“I’ll take her,” you offered quietly.

 Joel moved by you, his eyes not casting in your direction, his attention all on the horse. Immediately you felt the sour sting of public humiliation. A teen girl had entered the space after Joel and she saw the altercation.

“Don’t be upset,” she said. “He’s like that with everyone after patrols. He’s just tired.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, cheeks still warm.

“I’m Ellie,” the girl said, brushing a hand down the horse’s ribs with a playful tilt of her lips. “Who the fuck are you?”

Ellie was funny and warm and she was Joel’s daughter. She told you bits and pieces of their past and you didn’t push for more. You were quiet and thoughtful and Ellie told her you reminded her of Joel. This though amused and then delighted you, stuck on the idea of some invisible connection between you and the taciturn man.

You didn’t know why you felt drawn to him, you simply did. Not for the protection he could bring, not because every woman in town seemed besotted with him, not because he was handsome. But because from that first day there had been something in his eyes that called to you and that you desperately wanted to answer. A feeling of peace that you hadn’t felt in years. Safety.

When you passed him in town you thought you saw a lingering glance in your direction, but you knew that it was an idea nursed in delusion. This was a one-sided affection but you didn’t mind. After years of bad relationships in the QZ and the terror of travelling, having a harmless crush felt fun. A concept that was foreign and yet welcomed.

So you watched Joel Miller from behind the pens when he brought Glimmer in after patrols. You watched him when he and Ellie ate in the dining hall together, Ellie cracking jokes while one corner of Joel’s pouty mouth curled into a smirk. You watched him help building the new homes in town and if your eyes connected it was always you who looked away first with your pulse spiking.

It was three months before you spoke to Joel again, this time a simple “excuse me” when you bumped into him at one of the movie nights. The film had ended and you’d been making your way through the crowd before he stopped suddenly in front of you. Your hands flew to his chest, warm and taut under your fingers. He responded with a soft grunt, hands coming to grip your elbows. His touch was fleeting before he was nodding and shifting past you into the crowd while your heart hammered in your ribcage.

It was five months before he spoke a full sentence to you. “Can you put her away?” in response to Glimmer. You’d nodded, still not trusting yourself to speak in his presence after the first interaction. When his fingers brushed yours to pass you the reins you felt it tingle through your entire body. You couldn’t look in his face, convinced he would see the way your pupils had turned heart-shaped because how could they not have done so?

You tried to find reasons to bring up Joel in conversation with your brother and Hank, desperate to learn more about him from someone other than Ellie. Did they know Joel Miller? Neither of them did. Anthony let a small smirk cross his features when you asked, but it was Hank that answered. 

“Don’t run in the same circles,” Hank shrugged.  “I hear he’s tough though.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, good with a gun too.”

“Hmmm.”

That night you waited until the rest of the house was asleep before thrusting your fingers between your thighs. You brought yourself to a muffled yet toe-curling orgasm at the image of Joel, gun raised, protecting you.

It was six months of living in Jackson before Ellie had Joel’s hand in hers, dragging him over to where you sat eating breakfast in the dining hall alone. You’d been trying to covertly watch Joel while eating your pancakes and the ever receptive Ellie had obviously had enough.

“I thought it was time you two actually talked,” she said with an eye roll before stomping off. You felt your cheeks heating up, convinced that now everyone could see your obvious feelings for her Dad. Joel looked equally thrown, his eyes going everywhere but yours. Finally he cleared his throat, nodding at you.

“I’m Joel.”

“I know.”

You winced at both the breathy tone and the blunt of your reply. You introduced yourself, swallowing when Joel’s lips curled into a small smirk, his eyes finally landing on yours.

“I know.”

Then he’d walked off, sauntering away back to his table and your clamped your thighs together tightly under the table. He knew your name? You immediately inflated at the thought that he’d asked around about you before remembering that Ellie had probably told him. She was one of the few people you interacted with here in Jackson. Keeping to yourself felt safer.  But being in Joel’s eye line felt safest.

It was eight months when Joel sat next to you at the bar top of the Tipsy Bison. You had a bottle of something sickly sweet and potent in your grip. It was your third of that evening and you had moved from pleasant buzz all the way into the beginning stages of drunkenness.

Earlier that night Anthony and Hank had looked at you across the dining table with painted on smiles.

“Maria was saying that they’ve done a lot of building. You could probably get your own place if you wanted,” Anthony said it kindly, not insisting one way or the other. Hank smiled warmly over the dining table, but you saw the hope there in his eyes. A home for just them and you wanted to give them that. They deserved it.

You’d nodded emphatically, telling them of course and that the idea excited you when in truth the concept terrified you. Being alone all the time? You knew you were safe within this haven of a town, but there were still the nightmares.

But in that fear there was a thrill of the unknown. Of having a place to call your own. But who to share it with? You’d had the built in company of your brother and Hank. You knew next to no one in this town. No one made you feel safe except for the man you barely spoke to.

Your conversation with them drove you to the Bison, needing a distraction from your distress. When you glanced up to see Joel Miller sliding into the barstool beside you it had taken all your drunken self control not to confess that his eyes were the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. Dark brown, like warm molasses that you desperately wished would drip over you.

He ordered a whiskey, hands folded on the gleaming wood of the bar. He tilted his face in your direction as he waited to be served, a light smile on his lips as he spied the three empty bottles in front of you.

“You doin’ okay?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded at your sweating bottle, fingertip tracing over the trail of a fallen droplet. 

“Don’t see you around the stables much anymore.”

This surprised you, having assumed that Joel didn’t notice you one way or another. Up this close you could see the freckles on his neck, could smell the wood from his carvings (thanks Ellie for that info), and whatever scent made him uniquely Joel in your olfactory opinion.

“They moved me to kitchen duty.”

“Oh.”

He brought his drink to his lips and full of liquid courage a thought bubbled forth and turned into a question thrown at his feet.

“Why’d you ignore me the first time I talked to you, Joel?”

Joel’s brow quirked at that, not seeing the connection from one conversation topic to the next. Your cheeks burned at the memory of him walking by you, not even sparing a glance. Joel turned his broad body towards you, hand dangerously close to yours resting atop the wood bar top.

 “When was that?”

“That first day in the stables. I said I’d put Glimmer in the pen.”

Joel looked thoughtfully into middle distance, brows drawn.

“I didn’t even know you said anything. You talk so damn quiet.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t mind it,” Joel told you quickly, his body twisting away as he continued drinking. “Everyone else is so loud around here.”

As it to emphasize such a statement a loud braying group of men guffawed over cards. You and Joel exchanged an amused look before going back to your respective drinks. The secret moment made you feel warm.  

You’d excused yourself quickly after that, tilting the remaining dregs of your beer into your mouth and then stumbling out of the bar. You’d just stepped out the door preparing for your journey home when you spotted Anthony looking harried.

“I was looking for you everywhere,” he said with concern, jogging over to you. “Since when do you get drunk?”

“Decided to try it out,” you slurred, a sloppy grin bleeding across your face. “I like it.”

Anthony laughed before slipping an arm around your waist. You leaned into him, breathing in the crisp night air deeply as you two stumbled towards home.

“Why’re you here, Tony?”

 “You left so quickly earlier,” Anthony replied in a soft murmur, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “I just need you to know that there’s no rush about the m-“

“Get your hands off her.”

You’d both turned, startled by the snarled shout coming from behind you.  Your bleary eyes took in Joel’s hand whipping out in front of him, gripping Anthony’s sweatshirt in his hand and hauling him away from you. With a drunken slur you tried to catch his attention, but Joel had already pressed Anthony up against the wood side of the building.

“Joel!” you shouted. “What’re-“

“She’s drunk,” Joel barked into Anthony’s face. “And you’re here tryin’ to make a move?”

“No!” Anthony shouted eyes wide with terror.

“You don’t get to touch her,” Joel growled and for the first time since you arrival you saw the ruthless killer people whispered about in his wake.

Anthony was up close to see the narrowing of Joel’s eyes, the baring of his teeth and he could only grip Joel’s wrist in supplication.

“She’s my sister!”

Joel’s gaze widened and then darted over his shoulder to yours for confirmation. All you could do was nod miserably as you watched Joel lower your brother to the ground as if he weighed nothing.

Before you could say anything to either party Joel had mumbled an apology and taken off into the night, his long legs slicing through the air.  You expect Anthony to be furious or at least scared, but as he brushes down his sweater he’s smiling at you.

“What?”

“So that’s Joel.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged with embarrassment. Anthony was almost laughing.

“He likes you.”

Your head rose abruptly from where you’d had it hung over your sternum. “He doesn’t.”

“He does. He was all protective of you.”

“He doesn’t,” you insist unsteadily even though everything in your body is coming alive at the idea. “That’s just Joel, I think.”

But Anthony doesn’t let up. He teases you mercilessly about it for two weeks. Two weeks in which you have replayed that moment over and over in the confines of your bedroom. You don’t get to touch her. You don’t get to touch her. You don’t get to touch her.

And at the end of two weeks and no sign of Joel you found his address from Ellie and marched to his house.

You give a sharp rap on the door, shocked when it flies open and a grumpy looking Joel takes up the entire doorframe. He looks like he’s been recently awoken and it makes your core twitch. Seeing Joel all sleepy and soft makes you want to curl into him.

“Hi Joel.”

His sweet molasses eyes land on you, widening in surprise. The irritation there flees immediately and is replaced with gentle surprise.

 “How do you know where I live?” Joel asks in a quiet rasp with his brows knitting together.

“Ellie.”

You’ve never been a loud talker and now with Joel’s beautiful face in front of you, this moment is no exception. Joel leans forward a fraction, ear tilted towards you.

“Wassat?”

"Ellie."

"Oh, a' course."

He gives a breathless chuckle as his dark eyes scan over your shoulder, surveying the neighborhood to see if you're alone. He rocks back on his heels, reminding you of a chastised child. 

"Look, I'm real sorry about what happened with your brother," he says and observing the way he's bracing himself you think he assumes you're here to dress him down. The thought takes you by surprise before amusing you. 

"Why did you?"

Joel stares at you a beat, acutely surprised by your sudden confidence.

"Was worried he was a stranger," Joel finally mutters. "And I didn't like some strange guy touchin' you."

You're shocked to see pink rising to his tanned cheeks. It makes you feel bolder; it makes you take a step towards Joel on his porch. It makes you speak a little louder, a little bolder.

"Why?"

His gaze drags from the ground, taking its time to travel from your feet to your eyes.

"You mean it ain't obvious?" He exhales slowly, looking defeated. “Cuz… your mine.”

You feel as your body jerks to life at this simple statement. The possessiveness in his tone, the desire, the hope all mixing into one incredibly potent cocktail.

“I mean, I want you to be mine,” he amends quickly, licking his dried lips nervously.

You can't help reach out a hand to touch his chest, palm flat. You feel his heartbeat there, fluttering like a trapped bird in a strong cage. Joel swallows, his gaze going from your hand back to your searching eyes on his. 

"I didn't know you liked me," you say in a hush to his sternum. "I didn't-"

"The day you got here," Joel confesses in haste. "The second I saw you...Somethin' just... clicked."

Your heart sings, making your pupils grow large in your eyes as you stare up at Joel. His large hand cups your cheek, thumb dragging over your bottom lip. You hold in a shiver as his eyes shutter.

"Haven't been able to get you outta my head since then."

"I felt it too," you say quickly, your hand sliding up to his shoulder as you step closer to him. "The moment I saw your eyes."

Those very eyes dart back and forth between your own, looking for guile, looking for deception.  When they find none, they shine again with that sweet warm cinnamon color gazing back at you.

"I'm not a good person,” he says in a voice that sounds tired and broken. A voice of regret and life lived. His warm hand drops from your cheek and he takes a step backwards into his house, away from your touch. “I've done a lot of terrible shit.”

You grip his hand in yours, guiding it back until it cups your cheek again. He allows this, even welcomes it. He stands watching as you nuzzle into his palm, eyes closing as you bask in the warmth of his touch.  Joel feels his feet stepping forward again, drawing near to you and this feeling you bring out in him.  

You open your eyes and reach up above his shoulder. He allows your fingers trap one of the curls below his ear, testing the smooth texture, seeing the browns and grays mixing together and reveling that you’re finally touching Joel Miller. He has your face in both his hands now, holding you delicately.

“I don’t deserve ya,” he whispers.

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"Well I says I want you," you say smirking a moment after hearing it out loud. 

You've always been so quiet and serious. Right now there's almost a levity in how you look at Joel and he finds he likes it. A lot. His face breaks into a broad grin and you're amazed at how it transforms his face from austere to boyish. It makes you sigh, angling your body closer to his. 

"I wanted you the second I saw you, Joel. I can't explain it." Your hands lace behind his neck. 'Being around you makes me feel-." 

"Safe," he finishes for you.

When you nod he does the same, eyes scanning yours. You take a moment, hearts beating in tandem before he pulls you into his arms, mouth pressing to yours. The kiss is everything you’d hoped; warm and soft and sweet. It wraps you up in a cocoon of safety built with lust and comfort.

And now its eleven months and you live in your own home. It’s a street over from Joel’s and you take turns staying over at each other’s places. You also take turns cooking every night but it’s always done at Joel’s kitchen, often with Ellie offering unsolicited opinions from her space at the table where she sketches and makes retching noises when Joel kisses you. When you all eat together each night in the Miller kitchen there’s lots of laughing and shared stories and and if Ellie’s getting on Joel’s nerves he makes sure to kiss you heaps just to gross her out.

Despite how they first met, Anthony is one of Joel’s biggest fans with Hank following close behind. The three of them go fishing some weekends, coming back singing drunkenly with a chest full of fish. It makes you laugh with your whole body.

Maria and Tommy are the first to say what was already known during your first dinner together with them, “Fucking finally. You know how long this asshole was pining after you?” much to a red-faced Joel’s chagrin.

The first time Joel takes you to bed everything is slow slow slow. He wants to see your face, wants to make sure you feel good. He won’t chase his pleasure until yours has been sated first and often more than once with his tongue, his fingers, his cock.  When he groans his release it rumbles through his chest and echoes through into your ribcage. It makes you feel connected, like one body, one set of lungs, one heart.

When you first walk into town with Joel’s hand wrapped around yours the people don’t seem particularly shocked. Joel and you make sense to them, so similar in your quiet intensity, your serious dispositions. But when you’re behind closed doors and secret smiles are shared between you and him, the warmth of the moment invades your heart.

It makes you whisper “I love you,” into his jaw as he sheaths himself between your legs. It makes him murmur “Fell in love the moment I saw you,” in your ear. And it makes you cry when a few years later you feel your belly swell with new life.

And when your child is born you thank the entities above for giving her Joel’s eyes.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

original answer to the ask:

I love reading requests but unfortunately I can't do them all! I kinda just write what the muses tell me to. Plus this sounds like a big, long story (which honestly sounds beautiful) but I have so many WIP's that I don't think I would get to this one. However, I might take this and adapt it into a short story for you if you want? (And if I can!)

fuckin' muses, eh?

[ratcandy]

Now that I have some base designs for everyone here's a rough height comparison!

Not included: Sozo is somewhere between Shamura and Kallamar while Arylide (my yellow cat) is about the same height as Leshy if maybe a bit shorter.

Some other design notes,

The Lamb is extremely tiny because I think its funny. Also because way back in 2019 I made and got super attached to a personal OC who was also cult leader who was itty bitty tiny so now I'm attached to that idea

Technically if you stretched Leshy out all the way he would probably be taller than all of them. Except Kallamar, because if you stretched out Kallamar and counted the length of his tentacles, he'd be obnoxiously tall

Shamura can also prop themself up to be taller if they so choose but they do Not choose that often

Clothing-wise things are a mess. I'm not very good at designing clothing, always been a weak point of mine, but there are some small things I'm trying to go for specifically:

Leshy wears the cult symbol because, though he expressly denies it, he got comfortable the fastest of all his siblings. It helps that Aryl is here but even aside from that...... He's the deity of Chaos, even if formerly. He can adapt to whatever he wants to

Narinder is wearing a complete stand-out thing from everyone else. Nothing Bishop-like and nothing Lamb Cult related. He put together that hooded cloak himself because he misses his old one

Shamura is figuratively stuck between two worlds at the moment (having little to no memories of Anything prior to cult life but still having this lingering feeling) so they've got both cult attire and bishop-look going on at the same time.

Kallamar said FUCK your GROSS cult attire I am wearing FANCY ROBES. The rest of you can go die

Heket is #1 lamb hater in the entire world and utterly refuses to wear anything with the cult's symbols. She's going for more of a bishop look because heresy be DAMNED she hates it here and wants everything back how it was

Misc,

"why are Narinder's eyes still like that" because it looks cool

I am thinking of Maybe giving Leshy arms. He might deserve some arms. Yes it will clash with the rest of the Centipede look but again he's Chaos he can do whatever he wants forever

Leshy also has antennae I just make them super thin lmao

Nari has whiskers but I just never draw whiskers . Always forget. In the same vein that Shamura is covered in setae but I am not drawing a ton of individual setae so you'll just have to trust me on that

If Heket's legs are not drawn massive that's not Heket she MUST have giant frog legs or I will riot. She could leap over the chapel and I will not have it any other way.

[godsoflightmusic]

my reasons for each member + original image under the cut:

coups (great helm) - i feel like he would choose the most intimidating one and this one would just fit with his big sturdy body <3

jeonghan (barbute) - he needs to have his mouth relatively free so that he can use psychological warfare but this helmet would also go great with a huge jacket which is a must for him

joshua (sallet) - he's a wild card honestly... i can kinda see him owning multiple designer medieval helmets, but i feel like the sallet seems kinda fancy which suits him. i could also see him in the barbute to match jh tho

jun (armet) - the armet was made for jun i mean just look at the slayful profile and the head shape it would fit him like a glove

hoshi (armet) - i feel like the armet is the most tiger-like of all of the options here. hoshi would probably paint some stripes and whiskers on it or customize it in some other way

wonwoo (kettle hat) - this seems like the only glasses-friendly option and also he's a little bit of a loser (<3 <3) which fits the vibe of this option loll

woozi (sallet) - it's kinda reminiscent of his necessary helmet (see: bss comeback gose) so i think he could make some good music in it and the piece in the back would make him look like a little bug

minghao (frog-mouth) - duh but also i think he would appreciate the sculptural/avant-garde quality of this one

mingyu (hounskull) - mingyu wants the most protection possible so i was thinking absolute, full coverage, but it could also be a problem since he need to be able to look down more bc of his height..... idk

dk (spangenhelm) - the chainmail matches his arthur costume somewhat and he would also want to be in a helmet that doesn't trap his voice inside with him like a mini echo chamber

seungkwan (bascinet) - i feel like he might get scared if his whole head was covered up, and, as a bonus, there’s a possibility of modifying the helmet so that he could wear his navy baseball hat

vernon (hounskull) - the silhouette is reminiscent of the strawberry game from boomily outing, which suited him like no one else. also imagine a kenzo hounskull it would be so crazy cool

dino (great helm) - this is a purely instinctual choice. for some reason i just feel like this would suit him so well… like i can just see this helmet on his shoulders and it fits

[quitealotofsodapop]

I read this in a fic somewhere, but wouldn't it be cute if the monkey plush actually had Wukong and Macaque's fur in it? Like... monkeys probably shed a lot, and it'd be sweet if Pigsy actually had it custom made with MK's parents' fur (with permission, of course)

referencing MK's monkey plushie in the TMKATI au.

I believe I know the fic you're thinking of but I can't think of the title rn. And yes that would be super cute! <3

I feel like Pigsy initially was looking for a plush with one of those microwaveable heat pouches you put in the back of the toy. You know, something simple for the upcoming late fall/winter baby.

He has a lightbulb moment when he sees little Mei calm down after she hugs her fave dragon plushie. The Ao-Long parents mentioned placing a little cloth bag of their scales/dragon whiskers inside the toy to soothe their pup with their scent while they were away working.

And Pigsy has already just managed to convince "Wu" to wear a hairnet in the kitchen so...

Pigsy: "Hey, mind if I take a lock of your hairs?" Macaque, sus: "Why?" Pigsy, trying to act cool: "Got this toy for the kid. Has a pouch you can fill with your fur or whatevers so the kid always has your scent nearby. Calms them down or something." Macaque: "......" *starts hormonally crying at the sweet gift* Tang, comforting Mac: "Piggy, that is just *the* sweetest gift you could give someone!" Pigsy, defensive: "It's practical! You don't want the brat screaming each time they get up to piss!" Macaque, takes the toy while still crying: "And it's a little monkey!!!" ｡･ﾟﾟ･(>д<)･ﾟﾟ･｡ Tang, knowing smirk: "You can't fool us Dad-sy." Pigsy: *snorts in tsundere* (＝｀(●●)´＝)

And he approached Mac first cus he thought Wukong would be the more emotional one! The ginger monkey does in fact, cry super-hard at the super-sweet gift when he comes to investigate why Mac was sniffling.

"Mr Monkie" as MK dubs the toy when he starts drawing (he could draw names before he could talk), has a little pouch inside of it with Wukong and Mac's fur woven within. It was mega useful when the baby monkey was still in his super-clingy stage and either parent needed to set him down for a moment.

[wordynerdygurl]

Mousetrap

Author’s Note:  So, if you’re a thirsty hoe like me, you follow @poppy-metal and if you follow them then you may have seen this ask Poppy-Metal Anonymous Ask ... that anon post gave me all the inspiration for this story.  I hope I did the ask justice!  

I could not stop and when I tell you that it flew from my fingertips!  So, please enjoy this smutty Halloween centered one shot!

Also, taglists are open so let me know if you want to join!

Pairing:  Plus Size Reader x Eddie & Steve

Summary:  At Steve’s Halloween Party you find yourself in a sticky situation.  Eddie & Steve help themselves.

Warnings:  This is DUB-CON, multiple partners, SMUT - Consider yourself warned!!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mousetrap - A Hawkins Halloween Sexy Story

"Hey!  Don't leave that there!  People will be here soon and I want the place to look presentable."

Sighing grumpily you huffed at your overbearing friend, "Stevie, it's behind the couch.  Do I really need to worry about it?  It's a bottle cap, not a pile of garbage!"

Setting out a bowl of pretzels with a thump, Steve looked at you with frustration in his eyes, "Come on.  It's the- the principle of the thing.  It's about respect, ya know?"

"Yea, Bunny, show Stevie some respect!"  Eddie came sauntering into the room, Hawkins police officer costume recreated perfectly, at exactly the wrong moment.

Your hand found your hip as your eyes narrowed his way, "I'm a mouse, actually.  See-" pointing to the headband you wore, "-round, cute ears and adorable whiskers.  And I do respect our host, Officer Munson.  I just-"

"Don't wanna pick up after yourself?"  Countering your comment, Steve finished your sentence before plopping his cowboy hat on his head.  His Halloween look was completed with a leather vest, holster holding a bright orange squirt gun, and a pair of pointy toed boots that clopped with every step he took.    

Knowing you were beaten by the dynamic duo of Cop and Cowboy, you shrugged, resigning yourself to do their bidding, "Fine.  Fine!  Let me find the damn thing so you'll both stop busting my balls."

"Gotta have 'em first, sweets."  Eddie teased, tossing a pilfered pretzel into the air and catching it in his open mouth.

"Ha.  Ha.  Don't you have something else to do?  Help Sheriff Steve with streamers or, or tap a keg?"

Eddie crossed the carpet in a few long strides, looking every inch a domineering man of the law, his silver cuffs clinking.  When he was at your side he peered over the arm of the couch, "Later.  First, I wanna see you clean up your mess, since I’m the law in these here parts!"

"Yes!  Make sure she does, Eddie!"  Steve practically hollered down the hallway, a stack of records balanced precariously in his hands, party preparations almost complete.

Shaking your head, you snark in Eddie’s direction, "I don't need a babysitter, ya know."

"Coulda fooled me."  Was the only answer you received from the law man.

Rolling your eyes, you size up the Davenport, planning a course of action.  It’s close to the corner, but you are confident that you can reach the small lid without having to move anything.  Inhaling, you divert your attention to the task at hand and climb onto the sofa, balancing on your knees.  Leaning over the back of the couch you scan the overly patterned rug for the elusive bottle cap which started this whole debacle, "Damn!"

"What's the matter, Miss Mouse?"

Eddie’s tone is light, playful, but it manages to frustrate you further.  Gruffly, you grumble, "I can't find it!"

"Maybe you just gotta look harder?"  Was this his idea of helping?  Biting your tongue, you stretched your arm out, not quite touching the floor, wiggling into the frame of the couch in order to gain a few inches.  It doesn’t work, but you’re getting closer, so you shift, laying your tummy over the back cushion, your ass sticking into the air.  You know you're in trouble when a cool draft tickles the back of your thighs.  For your mouse costume you'd worn a short polka dot skirt with a little belted tail and underneath it all a pair of lacy underpants, ya know, just in case someone saw them.  

Now someone has.  Eddie wasn't trying to peek, honest and truly.  It's just that when you tilted your hips up your barely there skirt bunched around your waist and before he knew what was happening, Eddie was staring at the plump outline of your pussy lips through a filmy layer of white lace.  

The connection in his brain short circuited but the one between his heart and his dick was working overtime.  Instantly hard in the dark jeans he'd worn, Eddie was so distracted that he didn't hear you ask for help the first time.

"Eds?  You still there?  Can you help?"

Shaken out of his stupor, Eddie mumbled a quick apology, crowding as close to your bottom as he dared, "Yea, what do you need?"

"Longer arms!  Can you hold me so I can reach a little farther?"

Did you know what you were asking?  Eddie had his doubts, but if it gave him the chance to touch you, your soft skin, then, fuck it.  He was all in.

"Ok, like this?"  Circling your thick waist, Eddie pressed you down just a bit, in what he hoped was a stabilizing move.  Below him you bucked, the curve of your ass bumping his pelvis, as you struggled for a few more inches.

Hair in your face, blood rushing to your head, you groaned, "Not enough.  Maybe-"  And you were cut off by the feeling of long, clever fingers on the velvet of your calves, lifting you slightly.  It was enough and you frantically dragged your hands along the bottom of the couch in search of your trash which so offended Steve.

What you couldn’t see was the blown out look of lust in Eddie’s face.  His pupils had taken over, turning his stare dark.  Licking over his bottom lip, biting into it, Eddie struggled to combat the urge to do something drastic.  Something unasked for but often hinted at, something so wrong and so right.

He ghosted his palms higher, higher, higher, until he could feel the damp heat of your center.  Were his eyes playing tricks or was that a wet spot in the gusset of your panties?  Adjusting his grip, rings biting into the ample flesh of your legs, Eddie let his thumbs pull your cheeks apart, the view of your panty clad quim making him hum.

You had felt all this touching with a detached air, after all, you were on a mission which required concentration.  But the longer you stayed bent over Steve’s sofa, sweat beading on your forehead, feet kicking in the air, breathing limited by your awkward position, realization began to dawn.  Gliding against the fabric back of the couch you struggled for purchase, hoping to push back to standing, but were stalled by Eddie’s warmth behind you, "I got ya, baby.  No need to worry."

Swinging your head up, you were desperate to see Eddie, desperate to cover your flashing bottom, only you couldn’t get enough leverage in the tight space between the wall and the sofa, "Um, Eds, can- can you help me?"

"Huh?"  It was like he was in a fog, unable to process what you asked, his mind filled only with the sight in front of him.  You, open and vulnerable and dripping.

Eddie couldn’t say when he'd popped open the rivet of his jeans, he just knew that his cock was heavy and hot in his hand, precum pooling enough to ease his stroking.  Was it his fault that your dainty drawers were so intoxicating?  Idly flicking at the ruffles, Eddie's finger traced the elastic for a beat before slipping under the flimsy barrier protecting your sex.

Again you rocked your hips, the touch electric and also shocking.  Eddie was your friend.  Your hot, rock star, nerd friend.  Not a friend with benefits, not a boyfriend.  A friend.

And sure, you'd thought about him in a non-friendly way.  How well he filled out his leather jacket, cigarette smoldering between his lips as his caramel eyes filled with laughter was the essence of sexy cool, in your opinion.  Or, when he thought no one was looking and Eddie doted on you with kind words, little prizes, and tiny touches.  It was difficult to separate your fiction from reality in those moments, but you managed somehow. 

Now, entirely at his mercy, you wiggled in fear and anticipation.  He wouldn't take advantage of you, not like this, right?  Not with Steve in the house, surely?

The couch dipped.  Eddie’s boot clad foot nudged yours further apart as he pushed your panties to the side.  His fingers dipped into your core, a shallow intrusion, only to pull away glistening with your slick, talking to himself, "So wet.  You're so wet, babe." 

"Eddie!"  It squeaks out of you, lacking the authority and autonomy that you need to break through his clouded judgment. 

"Hmm, Imma help you, don't worry."  His voice sounds mindless and you huff as you try once more to scramble into a safe position but only succeed in grinding into the unrelenting hardness of Eddie’s ready body.

It's useless, a thing you realize when Eddie circles your swollen clit with the tip of his fingers.  Muscles in your stomach quake, the feeling too much and not enough in equal measure.  When he presses those same digits straight into your narrow channel, the air leaves your lungs in a rush, fresh arousal slicking your walls.

"Oh, honey.  You're so tight.  I knew you would be.  I knew it."  His free hand squeezes the globe your ass, flesh bulging under his palm, as you bloom around his thrusting fingers.  With a guilty clench you feel the start of an orgasm, hot and quick, flaring through you.  Before you can let go, Eddie pulls free with a groan, and you regret the loss, fidgeting under his hand craving more.

The empty feeling doesn't last long because the round fullness of Eddie’s mushroom tip parts your lower lips earning him a high pitched squeal from your rounded mouth.  The stretch is sinful.  Part pain, part pleasure, and you're torn.  Should you fight or submit?

There never really was a choice.  Not for Eddie.  Not for you.

In a breath he's buried deep inside of you, pelvis flush with yours.  A hand along your spine steadies you against the plush sofa pillows as Eddie angles up with every forward roll of his hips.  Without a place to push up on, a hand hold to grab, you can do little more than lie there and take it, jolting on Eddie’s intrusion in squeaks and starts.

Each rough forward press from Eddie drives you painfully into the Harrington’s couch, your hip bones bruising, the fancy textured fabric burning your skin.  He doesn't care about that.  He can't.  Not when you're clinging to him, your internal muscles molding around him, the sound of slick skin filling the room as he moans your name repeatedly.

And that's what draws Steve into the living room.  Noises that are familiar and distinct but shouldn't be heard.  Not now when the party is about to start and certainly not in his family living room.

Rounding the corner, Steve’s eyes go wide at the sight of you, bent in half, your ass pressed tightly to Eddie’s hips, your legs pinned to his sides.  Eddie’s ass is out too, his pants and boxes gathered above his knees, but that's not keeping him from fucking you thoroughly.  He watches raptly as Eddie draws all the way out, cock dewy from your desire, angry and pink.  Your cunt quivers, silently asking for more, and Steve grunts as he sees Eddie oblige you with a vicious hammering thrust that knocks the breath out of you.

Your fingernails claw at the couch back, Eddie’s newest assault rubbing your g-spot with each drag of his veiny length, and you can't fight the biological response of your body, "Oh, Eddie!!  Oh, no!"

Fighting it, you try to stop the tension building in your muscles, willing yourself to think about anything but the powerful piston of Eddie’s cock.  But then he’s nudging deeper, burrowing further than anyone has gone before, and your hips are moving without thinking.  Meeting him in wet slaps where your bodies are merged.  Forced against the brocade of the couch, you have just enough friction, just enough pressure, in just the right places that even though you didn’t want it to, a blinding white climax rips through you.

He feels the tightening of your canal, the rhythmic press and release of your velvet vice, and stuttering, shouts, "F- Fuck, yes!", as his spend splashes against your cervix.

Your tongue hangs out of your mouth, your mouse ears are on the floor, and still, you moan wantonly when Eddie slips from between your legs.  There's shuffling behind you and with weakening energy you try again to regain your feet.  That's when you hear Eddie’s chuckle, "Howdy partner!"

Steve’s voice cuts through the dawning quiet, soft but tense, "What the hell?"

"Don't be mad that I had her first!"  Eddie’s almost begging for forgiveness, trying to catch his breath, as you’re immobilized, balanced precariously after being used, cheeks hot from exertion and embarrassment.

"But we talked about this Munson.  There was a plan!"

Eddie sighs, regret in his voice, "I know, I know.  But trust me, Stevie-" his ringed hand pats your butt sweetly, "-she's ready for you now."

You hear a neediness in Steve’s tone that you've never heard before as he answers, "Yea?  Got her to open up for me, Munson?"

"Anything for you, big boy."  Pride, that’s the undercurrent of Eddie’s answer to Steve.  It makes goosebumps rise on your exposed flesh, from worry and wonder.

Now you have to speak, willing strength into your voice, "Steve?  Can you help me?  Eddie?  Please?"

New hands tug your panties down until they're bunched as your knees.  It's Steve, strong and stoic, who spreads your dripping pussy lips, "You gotta help me first, hon.  You help me and I'll help you."

The way he says it makes perfect sense and you feel your head bob uselessly behind the couch as Steve guides his thick erection into your cleft.  If Eddie was long, Stevie has girth, and you feel so full you are positive permanent damage is being done to your insides as he buries himself to the hilt.  

Steve slides a hand under your body, tickling your throbbing clit as he snaps his hips into you over and over and over again.  The backs of your thighs are red from the stinging smack of both boys and the repeated slap of their skin on yours.  You are overwhelmed by the raw need you're feeling; how your body is accepting the base behavior of your most trusted guy friends, how another orgasm is drawing energy to your belly, how you want Steve to cum in you, because of you.

Your open palm connects with the seat back, a dull thump, as your toes curl and your eyes roll.  It’s happening again, the pleasure overbalancing the situation, tipping you into pleasure as you cry, "Steve!  Oh Jesus Christ!  Steve!"

Shivering now, you collapse completely, Steve’s strength holding your hips high enough to keep rocking his cock into you.  Eddie’s watching, his dick back in his hand, the show too sexy to ignore.  He starts talking, running that mouth, "Fuck Stevie, you gonna cum?  Fill her up?  She's gonna be a fucking mess when you do!"

"Yea.  Fuck yea.  Gonna take my load?  Huh?  Answer me, honey."  There’s a quick pop on your bottom and you squeak at the sting.

Meek, mousy, you sniffle, "Yes.  Please Steve, Eddie, please!  Cum inside me.  I, I need it!"

"Shit!"  He hisses as his release hits hard, mingling with Eddie's, the overflow spilling out of you, coating your upper thighs, as Steve finds freedom outside of your folds.  

Quickly he yanks your panties back into place, patting your still fluttering hole through the lace, "Keep these on.  I want you to feel us all night."

Before you can answer him, Steve grabs your shoulder and brings your head up.  It’s too quick and for a long second your head spins now that you're upright again, blood draining from your face.  Your once clever make-up is a mess, your tail is up under your boobs and the skirt you ironed before driving over is wrinkled around your waist.  The desire to hide hits you but you’re pinned in place, in front of the two fellas who took shameless advantage of you, smirking knowingly your direction.  Eddie speaks first, "Aw, poor Miss Mouse lost her ears."

"Bet they're behind the couch, huh, babe?"  Steve nudges you with a wicked grin.  They were fucked off of your head, falling after Eddie’s first push, and there wasn’t anything you could do to stop it from happening.  The memory nearly makes your knees buckle.  Raising seemingly innocent eyes, you agree quietly, "Uh huh, but-"

"But?"  Eddie’s eyebrows are raised, curious about your response, loving the wreck innocence on your face.

"I- I don't think I can reach them.  Not without help."  A hot wave rolls over you at the idea that you’d become trapped once more, open and available to Eddie and Steve.  Just the thought of it happening again makes you squeeze your thighs together, the squelch from your panties unignorable and you see the satisfied look that passes between the pair.  They heard it too.

Even though he sounds sympathetic, Steve’s eyes betray him.  They still hold an unspoken need in their dark hued depths, one that makes you shake under his gaze, nervous and timid.  When he’s standing directly in front of you, Steve pinches your chin, ensuring you can’t look away, “Aw, look at our little mouse.  She’s a mess.  Think she needs to fix her make-up so no one else finds out what a little slut she is for us.  Right, Eds?” “Absolutely.  Lemme grab those ears.”  With no effort, Eddie leans over the creased cushions and extracts your head piece.  He’s standing at your back, reaching over your shoulder to hand your hairband to Steve as if you weren’t sandwiched between both of their hot bodies. Steve edges closer and you take a tentative step back, right into the broad plain of Eddie’s chest.  You’re half afraid that he’ll try to kiss you and terrified that he won’t.  At your waist, Eddie’s hands have found their grip and he stills your movement, making sure that you’re snuggly fitted between him and the former King of Hawkins High.  Meek, you mumble, “Can- can I have my… my uh- my ears?”  And you gulp when Steve doesn’t respond with more than a slight head shake, “-Uh, please?  Can I have them, please?” Making a show of it, Steve draws his wide palms along your sides, cupping your bruised breasts for a moment, before returning your headband to its rightful place, “See, all you had to do was ask, Miss Mouse.”   Eddie’s chin digs into your shoulder, his breathy response an echo in your ear, “She’s a good girl, Stevie.  So good to us.” “Yea, she really is.  And she’s gonna keep her legs and her mouth shut, right?”  He’s nodding and you feel yourself mirroring the bob of Steve’s head, agreeing wordlessly to whatever he’s asking. The doorbell rings, shrilly intruding on this shared moment between the three of you, but Steve isn’t in a rush.  He doesn’t move and neither does Eddie.  If anything, they both take the extra time to touch you in places they shouldn’t; Eddie coasts a hand over your quads, cupping your butt before smacking against the dimpled skin, just enough to sound without stinging.  Steve trails a finger down your nose, brushing a stray tear from your cheek, before laying his hand over your clavicle, dangerously close to your neck. Again the bell trills and Steve shouts, “Just a second!” before pressing his mouth to yours, his tongue sliding seamlessly past your parted lips, snatching the air from your lungs.  Eddie nuzzles into the space below your ear, nibbling there, praising you quietly, “So sweet, baby.  Can’t wait to taste all of you.” Bullied between them, your soft figure is buffeted by their rigid bodies, a whimper of want eaking out of you because of their unceasing attention.  When Steve breaks away, you chase him with open lips, only to hear his rueful chuckle, “Eager, huh?  Don’t worry baby, we’re gonna give you everything you want.”

“And more!”  Eddie adds, spinning you in his arms, his fast kiss knocking any other thoughts from your head.  Off balance, you clutch at the lapels of his taupe sheriff’s shirt, and he smirks against your lips, pleased at your desperation. When the doorbell goes off for a third time, Steve grins at Eddie, “Make sure she gets cleaned up- her face, anyway.  Ok?” but Eddie doesn’t answer, prompting Steve to throw his hands on his hips, “Ok, Munson?” Panting hard, eyes on yours, Eddie concedes, “Yea, yea, Harrington.  On it.” It’s only when you’re in the privacy of the locked bathroom, staring at your red rimmed eyes in the mirror, the darkening marks of Eddie’s teeth on your throat that you realize just how far things have gone.  Using cool water, you swipe at the mascara running over your cheeks, removing the drawn on whiskers that had been so cute an hour ago.  Sniffling a little, you dry your face, willing yourself to calm down before joining the growing group already enjoying Steve’s Halloween bash. Carefully, you use your eyeliner and fix your tiny black nose.  Fluffing your hair, you rearrange the soft gray ears and smile at your reflection.  No one would know.  Well, no one but you, Eddie and Steve.  To everyone else you look like a cute little mouse, round and soft and sweet.  But you can’t shake it, the self-conscious tingling that forces you to look around the room, nervous and jumpy.  Worried that something will be said, or someone will guess at what you were doing before beer was poured and music started pumping. You can’t forget.  Not when Eddie’s eyes are on you all night, wild and hungry.  Not when Steve’s pointedly ignoring you, cold but protective.  You are a mouse.  A little innocent thing.  And you’ve been trapped, just waiting to be eaten.  

------FIN -------

Looking for more?  Here’s my Masterlist

Taglist:  @thatsonezesty13 @sxlly-pxbble @tisfuihi @kerri-leighjade @carleighsworld @mediocreaf @weird-stranger13 @cupiden @meh-darkness @sereisstuff @elviqs @hevanleigh @ethereal-daydreamerr​ @bluedreamsofhoneyrevenge @armyangxls​ @alana-stewart​ @peachkiosk @riddlerstoepics​ @lonely-af-fangirl​ @darkhairedmenrule​ @b1tchbabytears​ @punishers-girl​ @ravencrap-hufflefuck​ @sapphic-assassin @rosegoldarti​ @shiggay @boeutiful​ @york-peppermint-patty​ @atlwhatevs​ @probablynotmadonna @mermaidsandcats29​ @tarazia @aereth​ @maymaypes @drfrank211​