#helpless right. but at the same time i think the point is like. you can still choose. kindness

[hauntedpearl]

i do love the chuck won theory i do but the thing is. im not the biggest fan of how they did it on the show. like i get why it is like that it's just not my preference is all.

going back to my point about keeping god off the screen, I think I would've preferred if they were "fighting" god like that. in the sense that they're aware, to some extent, that this is all out of their control. it's like in good omens but the evil version of it. the plan is ineffable, so what can we even do about it? do we even have free will? are we responsible for the evil in our lives or is someone else? did you kill your son? did your son kill your mother?? or did this Nebulous All Knowing Entity make him do it? does it make a difference, when this grief is choking your throat?? when the guilt is in your veins? when the pain you've caused, you're feeling, is all so tangible?? you can't fight god and you can't beat god and you can't be sure that you are ever on your own. there is no hope, and there is no reward, and you aren't quite sure about the witness. can you choose kindness anyway? like this? when the world is ending and your feet are close to the edge of it?? does it matter?? DOES IT MATTER?? DOES IT MATTER??????

[f0point5]

i NEED jealous Max. Please 🥺🥺🥺 I love jealous/possessive guys haha the feminism just leaves my body

Me too! GOD. Me, too.

It took me ages to decide how to go about this because I had soooo many ideas but I hope you like it!

✨set during the Miami GP weekend 2022✨

Everybody wants you, but I don’t like a gold rush

Max glances down at his watch. 17 minutes. 17 minutes you’ve been standing in the gallery area of the garage, fanning yourself with a magazine - with Max’s face on the front of it, no less - in the Miami heat, talking to some freakishly tall guy in a Louis Vuitton denim jacket and aviator sunglasses. He’s so painfully American that Max wonders what you even have to talk about for…eighteen minutes.

You tighten your high ponytail while Paul Bunyon talks, his mouth wide with every word. Max studies your face for any sign that you’re bored. He’s bored of watching this, but he knows from experience that not looking isn’t a real option. You haven’t looked over at him once in those eighteen minutes, in fact you haven’t even been distracted by the mechanics moving around or the noise of drilling and clattering tools.

This guy must be really fucking interesting.

You smile at something Captain America says and Max feels his jaw clenched so hard he thinks a tooth is going to crack.

It’s like he’s thirteen again, watching you stand in the middle of the makeshift paddock at the karting track, swarmed by every one of his competitors, their parents packing up their stuff as they vie for your attention. He was the only one who stayed away, following his dad’s instructions on how to properly dismantle and store things while sneaking glimpses at the show you were running. He would win every race and still go home feeling like a loser.

It’s different now, of course. He doesn’t take your gregarious nature so personally now, and he can admit he understands what men see in you now, even if he doesn’t feel it. But he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t trigger something in him to see the way men react to you. It might irritate him less if you enjoyed it, but you’ve long since grown out of that. Now, you expect it so much that you ignore it, and Max has no choice to but to notice it, the same way you’d notice a rusty knife embedded in your side.

“You’re not listening to me, are you?” GP says, which snaps Max out of his calculations.

“I’m listening,” Max says, fiddling with the brim of his cap. “Drive fast, win race, I got it,”

GP frowns at his dismissive tone, and Max makes a point of looking at his water bottle, lest GP realise what actually had his attention. “Max, you need to focus. What are you even-“ It’s the sound of your laugh - high pitched over the deep bass of the music - that makes GP look across the garage. His features twist in disapproval as he turns back to Max. “You’ve got to be kidding me,”

Max looks down at his shoes, moving his foot as he inspects them. “What?”

Above him, GP groans. “I’m not going to say anything about the situation as a whole, because it’s waste of my time. But specifically now, she’s right there, she’s not going anywhere. Can we please just go through this once and then you can carry on staring?”

Max rolls his eyes, steeling his face as a cameraman enters the garage. He’s wearing a Red Bull shirt so Max doesn’t mind too much, but he can’t be captured looking as morose as he feels. The cameraman pans past him and onto you and the guest. Max watches you cringe as the guy throws up some hand sign to the camera, clearly at home with the media attention.

“Who even is that?” Max asks, unable to hide his rancour. He’s probably going to be forced to take a picture with Popeye later.

“I don’t know, some American football player?” GP says with a shrug, giving Max a helpless look. GP couldn’t give less of a shit about the celebrity guests touted around the gargae, and normally Max is his ally. “Are we done?”

Max nods, but not even a second later he’s looking again. It gets worse the more you talk, he can see this guy becoming more enchanted by the second. He wonders what kind of steroids they take in American sports leagues because the meathead is acting like a dog in heat. He leans towards you at an angle that is wholly unnecessary, his eyes fixated on your mouth, nodding too emphatically at everything you say.

“My God, why doesn’t he just lick her face,” Max says incredulously, more to himself than anything.

“Max,” GP sighs.

“Come on,” Max implores with a scoff, stopping himself from outright gesturing in your direction. “Look at him. That’s embarrassing,”

GP fixes Max with a deadpan expression. “Right, but you being sulky and jealous is the height of cool?”

“I’m not jealous.”

And he isn’t. Because Joe DiMaggio over there doesn’t have anything he wants. He’s not going to waste time being jealous of a guy getting half an hour with you when he has cats, and a home, and a life with you.

Finally, you look in his direction, but only because GP calls your name. “Can you come here?”

You give GP a thumbs up and excuse yourself, trotting over to Max without a second thought. Wannabe Tom Brady brazenly enjoys the view, and Max swears he hasn’t been that close to punching someone since Monza last year.

“What’s up?” You ask, slotting yourself between the two men as you lean back against the shelf.

GP hands you his phone. “Beat this Candy Crush level for me, would you? Been stuck for days,”

You look at him skeptically, but years of being filmed up close by cameras on the pit wall have given GP a hell of a poker face; he just stares back at you, and you give up with a huff.

“Men are hopeless,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“Couldn’t agree more,” GP says, his eyes pointedly on Max, who can’t even defend himself.

Desperate to avoid GP’s scrutiny, he glances over at the gallery, only to find the Yank looking at him. Well, not him, you. He’s got that curious expression as he assesses you fiddling with GP’s phone, one that says he’s trying to understand if he has something to be worried about. He doesn’t. You’re not his to worry about.

“Here,” Max says, pulling off his cap. You barely look up at him before he puts his cap firmly on your head, holding it steady with one hand while pulling your ponytail through the hole at the back with the other.

The brim of the hat obscures half your face, and Max turns so that half your body is shielded by his, which he tells himself is in case a camera comes by.

“It’s sunny,” Max shrugs in his own defence, when he notices you looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

You adjust the cap on your head but don’t take it off. “Why don’t you just give me your letterman jacket?”

“My what?”

“Never mind,” you chuckle, shaking your head at him as you pat his chest with an indulgent smile.

He takes the opportunity at the sound of a large wheel gun to glance over at the gallery, only to meet the eyes of the guy you were talking to. Now that you’re no longer next to him, Max does sort of recognise him. He plays for some team named after an animal. Max just looks at him - he’ll do this all day if he has to - until the guy shoves his hands in his pockets and pulls out his phone, starting to tap away. Yeah, go back to Raya.

Good riddance, Max thinks to himself as he turns back to you, only to find that you already looking at him. He wonders for how long.

He can tell by your smirk that he’s been caught. If he’s honest with himself you caught him five years ago, this was just one of the few moments he let you know it. And you know it. How could you not know?

He thinks for a second that you’re going to tease him, but you don’t. You shift on your feet so that some of your weight rests against his arm, and go back to playing on GP’s phone.

“Go on, GP,” he says, fighting a smile at the large number 1 on the brim of what is now your hat.

He knows from the way GP is looking at him that he’ll get an earful about this later, but right now, he just clears his throat.

“Right, so,”

[sixosix]

wc, 500. talks a lot x listens trope, but with xiao.

Xiao dislikes wasting time.

There are a million reasons why he doesn’t indulge in small talk. Get to the point, he urges, tell me what you want. For their sake, but there’s also that he’d rather not involve himself in anyone else’s affairs.

But he could listen to you talk for hours. Days, years. You could hold him down, trap him in your arms—and he can break free any time, and he would, had it been anyone else, but he finds that he doesn’t want to right now.

“Xiao,” you say. Your breath hits his face. He feels warmth creep to his cheeks, and he’s already thinking about using your “unbearable” proximity as an excuse. “Xiao… Listen, you know how two weeks ago I made you that plate of Almond Tofu?”

Xiao hums, willing himself to make his gaze less soft, to something more intimidating. But you’re undeterred, grinning at him and skirting around why you’ve pinned him against the wall and completely disrespected his bubble of space. Not that he minds, anyway. He finds that he doesn’t mind a lot of things when you do it.

You’d been terribly occupied yesterday. You didn’t call Xiao’s name once—and usually, you’d be calling for him all the time, doing it to provoke a reaction out of him, but if Xiao really hated it, he would’ve stopped appearing eventually. He always appears, be it when you’re on the brink of death, or you want him to pick what you’d have for dinner that day.

Now, he’s willingly helpless as you talk and talk and he listens.

“And you hated the Almond Tofu I made, do you remember that? You made a face. All scrunched up—and it was cute, actually. That was a really funny face you made, I wish I had my Kamera with me at the time.”

Xiao wilts, still embarrassed you caught onto his visceral reaction. He doesn’t mean to offend you, even if right now it seems you’re taking it all in stride. “It was just different.”

You laugh brightly, like Xiao’s looking right at the sun, and he’s the moon chasing after your endless warmth. “No need to protect my pride. It made me want to do better. So, yesterday, I practiced all day to perfect it. I had all the chefs I know taste it, and they said I’ve gotten better this time!”

Xiao’s face burns. He squints to keep his eyes from blowing too wide.  “You were… practicing.”

“For you.”

“For me,” he echoes.

“…Do you want to try it?”

“Tell me about the events that transpired yesterday as I eat it,” Xiao demands, shifting to free himself from your arms, entirely missing the surprise that washes over your expression. He turns and finds you frozen in the same spot. “Well?”

Your gaze snaps back to him, beaming. “Well, if you missed me talking your ear off and wasting your time, then gladly.”

It’s not wasting time if it’s time spent with you, is what Xiao keeps to himself.

[ominouspuff]

No Man Left Behind / Something Worth Dying For

REQUESTS / BLOG EVENT

Request from @razzbberry - Palette #1 - Alpha-17, Cody - Death of the Cynic in Me

Notes and close-ups beneath the cut!

Notes: I think Seventeen would, both subconsciously and consciously, keep his cynicism as long as possible. It’s how he thinks the world works, but it’s also a survival tool. It’d be a very, very slow death.

It’s put to the test with Cody — not because Cody is special among his fellow clones, but because he’s one of the first that bothers to fight Seventeen on his own terms. The argument is always the same. Cody wants to talk about what he hopes to be, someday, after he is a soldier. Seventeen thinks he’s stupid to think that’s possible, or that he’d be capable. Cody knows it, and he, might not be. Seventeen thinks it’s even more stupid, in that case; what a waste of energy.

It develops. When they’re older, and in the thick of war, one day Cody risks his life for the chance to save a brother that was going to die anyway. Seventeen yells at him for fifteen minutes once he’s conscious about luck and stupidity and the trouble it’s causing Seventeen and the false hope it’s engendering in others. Cody says he can disagree all he likes, but he doesn’t give a fig, respectfully. Seventeen thinks Cody can go try to get blown up again, if he thinks so.

There’s no point fighting for a better tomorrow; they’re bought and paid for to fight for something else, FOR someone else. Seventeen is prepared for being fodder, as a result. He’s prepared for unfairness and the bleak life that they’re living. Instead he watches as Cody defeats odds time and time again, somehow managing to balance being an exceptional military leader with a secondary war to live for something more, running himself ragged and — inexplicably — gaining ground. Each of those little victories are a little death for Seventeen’s cynicism; a chipping away. A little seed of Cody’s brand of hope takes root, awkward and begrudging, fond and tentative.

Then Order 66 happens. Cody’s efforts for a better life are in vain, and Cody himself-

Cody may never know that Seventeen was right abut just how helpless they were. Now he only knows that Seventeen is a traitor, apparently, because Seventeen — for once in his life — was the lucky one and his chip malfunctioned.

And Seventeen could say ‘I told you so’. He could rest, vindicated and resigned, in the fact that every dream Cody built up and everything he thought was worth dying for is pointless, now — as he always suspected it would be.

But it isn’t fair, even by Seventeen’s standards.

“What are you doing,” Rex will rasp, caught in a strange role reversal as Seventeen paints an armor set with Cody’s golden colors. “He’s not coming back, Seventeen. He can’t. It’s pointless to keep going after him, you need to stop.”

“No,” Seventeen will answer, unbothered, “I don’t think I will.”

“We can’t — we can’t keep hoping,” Rex says, because he means he will probably have a breakdown if he imagines there is even a pitiful possibility he could save his brothers and then have to turn away from that scrappy chance for the greater good and Rebellion, and all that. “We’ve got to move on.”

“Go on.” Seventeen will invite sincerely, one brow raised because he knows Rex better than that.

“Do you want him to shoot you?” Rex will finally yell, all knotted up at the thought of losing Seventeen too, even though it’s funny because Seventeen was never kind to Rex.

“He can try,” Seventeen will say, touching up the last of the paint. He will stand, wiping his fingers, and pick up his pack. “See you when we get back, then.”

Alt version:

[steddielations]

nonsexual d/s for sub Eddie week with art here by @ent-is-indecisive

“Eddie, will you please open the door?”

“I ruined it, Steve, I messed everything up.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, baby, let me in, c’mon.”

All the music from the party almost drowns out Steve’s voice, but a small pathetic piece of Eddie clings to it like an anchor. He opens the door and Steve’s brows knit sympathetically at the state of distress Eddie's in. It’s all fucked up.

His leather sleeve is wet and sticky, he can’t stop raking his fingers through his hair, ruining the nice waves Steve styled for him earlier because he was too much of a wreck to do it himself. It’s all fucked up.

“I fucked up.”

Shaking his head, Steve comes inside and shuts the door behind him. “It wasn’t that bad. Could’ve been worse, remember when Robin threw up in the middle of an audition.”

“Steve, at this point they’re gonna pay me not to make an album,” Eddie stresses, pacing around the bathroom. “I spilled wine all over the guy. Dale fucking Grazer wants to talk serious paper and shake my hand and I just emptied my stupid little glass all over him!”

“It was just wine, not puke or something,” Steve says lightly, trying to bring Eddie down from his frantic state. It works, his voice is a tether for Eddie to grab onto. “Come here, let me fix you up.” 

Eddie does as Steve says, not trusting himself to make any more decisions when all he’s done today is fuck up. 

Steve guides him over to the sink, wetting a towel and dabbing Eddie’s jacket. He’s so calm, like this isn’t the most important night in Eddie’s life and it’s not already blown and he can still make that hotshot from the record label like him.

Steve’s acting like everything’s fine, which makes Eddie feel stupid and small like he's overreacting, he tries to let Steve’s energy calm him too but it’s hard.

“You’re overthinking, I can see it on your face,” Steve says, being gentle but not in a coddling way that would make Eddie feel even more stupid.

He straightens out Eddie’s sleeve, good as new, then works on Eddie’s hair next. His fingers are soft and skilled and so sure, knowing exactly how to fix it and how to make Eddie melt under his touch.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, just trying to let Steve fix everything. He's way better at fancy parties and schmoozing than Eddie is. He always knows how to get Eddie out of his head and that’s what he needs right now. As pathetic as he feels about it, he needs to stop thinking. Let Steve think for him, even.

“Wanna tell me what’s on your mind?” Steve prompts softly and Eddie is helpless but to let it all out.

“I can’t stop saying the wrong shit. Why’d I tell him my dad’s in prison? Or bring up the dropped murder charges, or all that stuff about ket, I just can’t shut up.”

“No, that’s just you, the whole big personality charismatic rockstar thing. Trust me, that guy’s got star eyes for you.”

“This is just like with Paige’s label. I messed that up, and now I’m ruining Jeff’s chance again, and—”

“No you’re not, that guy loves Jeff already, everybody loves Jeff.” 

“You’re right, he’s got this, he doesn’t need me. Let’s just get out of here, make a run for it.”

Eddie barely takes a step before Steve’s hands circle both his wrists, his grip gentle but solid, holding Eddie in place. It flips the same little switch in Eddie as the cuffs they use in the bedroom. It takes away the option to run.

Somewhere in the jumble of his mind, he knows it’s the right choice, trusting that Steve wouldn’t let him make the wrong one.

“We’re not going anywhere, baby, this is your chance too.” Steve rubs up and down Eddie’s arms, guiding him around in front of the mirror. 

It’s hard for Eddie to look at himself right now and see it written all over his face. Steve cleaned the stain and made his hair perfect again but he can’t fix whatever’s making Eddie… Well, Eddie. Whatever it is that made him flunk senior year 3 times, or screw up the first chance he had to make something of himself, or the reason Ronnie won’t pick up his phone calls, or the reason Wayne sleeps with his keys on the bedside table in case he has to come running to Eddie’s rescue like always—

Steve’s fingers lightly cup Eddie’s chin, he’s standing behind Eddie now, his body warmly pressed against him.

“Look here, honey.” Steve gently tips Eddie’s head up to meet his own eyes in the mirror. They’re glistening with unshed tears that almost fall when Steve says soft but sure, “You’re not a fuckup,” and prompts Eddie, “Say it.”

Eddie swallows the lump rising in his throat, “I’m not—” 

He chokes up a little bit and Steve waits patiently. 

“Tell yourself,” Steve whispers, all earnest-eyed in the mirror like all he wants is to make Eddie believe it.

“I’m not a… fuckup,” Eddie gets the words out and a few tears slip free with them.

Steve brushes them away. “You can do this. Say it.”

With a deep breath, Eddie tells himself, “I can do this.”

Steve kisses his temple, gives him a little praise that he admittedly needs so much right now, “You’re gonna be so good.”

Eddie’s mind starts to clear of everything that’s not Steve rocking him slowly in his arms, whispering, “You’re my good boy,” as many times as Eddie needs to hear it. He feels his confidence building back up, getting more comfortable in his skin again with Steve holding him, believing the words Steve made him say in the mirror, believing the words Steve kisses into his neck and loves into his skin. He can do this.

“Aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” 

“Tell me,” Steve prompts and Eddie turns a little, blinking slowly, eyes feeling heavy with the slow dose of bliss Steve gave him.

“I’m your good boy,” Eddie murmurs and he believes it.

When they leave the bathroom later, Steve can’t hold his hand through this, but Eddie still feels him.

He charms the fuck out of those suits from the label. They love Jeff, everybody loves Jeff, and they love Eddie too. The whole band is definitely getting signed, at least that’s what Steve says on the ride home.

Eddie greedily soaks up all the praise and attention, feeling a little spacey with it, Steve's big warm hand on his thigh grounding him. He can't wait for them to get home so he can properly thank Steve.

[wolfsub-rom]

I like the idea of big bro cooing me into spreading my legs and touching my pussy very lightly, almost no pressure or friction at all. Commenting how wet I am and how it's throbbing and aching to be used. Then he pulls his phone out and opens the camera app. "Uhh... What are you doing?" I ask, "shh... it's okay... only I will see them... you look so pretty and helpless... Ssh..." Big bro keeps coos, very gently as he takes plenty pictures.

The next day he brings his friends home and introduces me to them by showing the pictures and encouraging them to check it for themselves. Big brother holds me on his lap and makes me feel safe enough so they can start stripping me naked, they all keep touching and lightly fingering my pussy, getting rougher each time, but little bro keeps me calm and safe as they violate me.

Suddenly they start betting how long will I take to cum and begin to decide who is going in first. What do they mean? First? What will they do? But big bro stops them. "I'm his first. Isn't it right, little one?" He gives me the usual big bro peck on the lips, only to start to get wetter and more passionate as he inserted his tongue. His friends cheer and some of them even smack my pussy a little during the kiss. They all start to rub one off as my big bro unzips his pants and pulls out his dick. He rubs it in my little hole a little before aligning it in the entrance. "Um... Big bro...? I- mmh-ah!" He slams it in with no further preparation. It went deep and fully hard... It hurts a lot and I felt something inside my no no parts tear apart. His friends laugh and smack my pussy. They keep commenting about my flower being torn... what? I start to cry, big bro coos me licks my tears, waiting not even a second before beginning to move. "Sssh... It's okay, little one... I know it hurts, but big bro is here... Oh so tight... Look how much blood is coming out..." He chuckles... If big bro isn't sad, then I think if okay. His friends are touching their no no parts as well, they keep coming closer to me. Pointing to my face, my parts, my mouth... Big bro bounces me as fast as he can. I like this play of horsey... It's getting warm and tingling... Uh maybe too tingly... "Big bro... I'm... Unh I'm going to pee..." When he hears this, he immediately starts to bounce me faster, pulling himself almost complete our and slamming back in, pressing my tummy "no... don't worry, baby..." He grunts "it's something better... Keep holding it until big bro says it's time, okay?" I moan in response and keep enjoying his horsey play... His friends start to grunt loudly too, just like big bro... Big bro tells me to look closely to their parts "show him your jizz, he'll love it" he tells a friend. They spurt their cum soon after, being followed by the others... I'm covered with it, it's warm and drippy... I touch some of it as big bro encourages me to rub it on my body... Uh... It feels good... My head is getting empty... I can't think... Uhhh... I really have to pee...

"aah! Big bro... I'm peeing..." I moan. "Go on. Cum! Cum for big bro!" He grunts, filling me up with his cum. It's so much... Moving inside me as he slows down. I spurt some too. He was right, it was not pee, but it was kinda the same release... My head is all wobbly and I'm on the verge of passing out. Big bro smacks my, now creamy, pussy and shushed me right after "no no. No nap time now, baby!" He says pulling out of me, I feel all his cum drip slowly out of my pussy. "B-but... I'm all.. uh..." It's so hard to think right now, I can't even finish the sentence before one of his friends slams his dick inside me. Ugh the torn tissue inside still hurts a little. "No buts. All my friends came here just to see you. It's not polite to refuse your pussy like this... Big bro is very disappointed." He says petting my head in a demeaning way. "N-no" I can be g-good..." He pecks my lips . "Of course you can... Now, I trust you to stay awake and let my friends enjoy your defloration party, okay?" I nod and take in his friend's cock as best as I can. Anything for big bro...

[princessbrunette]

Rafe cameron deffff watches you do your makeup just so he can imagine fucking you and ruining it💪

this took a random turn kinda

you’re sat at your dresser, the light bulbs attached to the mirror illuminating your visage. rafe stands a little ominously behind you, chewing on a hangnail on his middle finger and you ignore him, used to his looming, quiet yet curious presence. your nails clack against the pink glittery wand of your blush brush as you lift it, dusting it across the supple apples of your cheeks and upwards towards your cheekbone.

“whats that do?” he asks a little flatly, not wanting to sound too interested — he was a big manly man after all. everything you did intrigued him however, in his more quieter and calm moments enjoying studying you. perhaps he was antsy because he just wanted to leave the house with you already, and you were taking your time.

“makes your cheeks pretty.” you explain simply, like a mother dismissing a curious child. he wanders around the room casually, watching you through the mirror. you note how cute he looks in his north face fleece, cuddly almost. you smile, unscrewing your lipgloss and lifting the wand to paint it on.

“great.” he stuffs his hands in his pockets with an exaggerated sigh. you freeze in confusion, lips agape assuming the position to apply the gloss.

“what?” your brows furrow cutely, bottom lip pouted and his dick twitches, fist clenching in his pocket. it never took much with rafe.

“y’know, i can’t kiss you if you’re wearing that shit. makes everything all sticky.” he squints, lifting a hand from his pocket in gesture, lifting a hand accusingly to the gloss in your hand. you don’t get the chance to say anything, he speaks up again. “you’re gonna have to…” he sighs again, lowering his voice to be more serious and stepping up to where you sit on your stool, now gazing up at him through painted black lashes. “y’gonna have to take it all off anyway.” he tilts his head a little, the lilt in his voice suggesting a threat was present.

you sigh, turning your body on the stool to face him. “rafe,” you whine, used to his ways. “why?” you wonder what he’d come up with this time, perhaps a new way to be controlling, telling you to take off your makeup because you only need to look pretty for him, or some narcissistic bullshit like that. his lips press flat as his other hand leaves his pocket, coming up to cup your jaw with a surprising gentleness. he tilts your face up a little more so the light from the dim ceiling lamp illuminates you evenly.

“because it’s gonna get all over my white sheets. that’s just kind of… a hassle, huh?” his left eye twitches a little at the same time he tilts his head a smidgen, his voice dropping to a low whisper. oh. you think, lips gaping.

“you wanna f—fuck me, right now?” your voice gets all breathy and pathetic, at almost nothing — just how he liked you and he smiles, cute and boyish and oh so maliciously.

“yeah, i do.” he takes your arm and pulls you to stand, nearly falling into his chest as you do so. you always look so helpless and that makes him feel so powerful, it’s no wonder he kept you around. “i… i think i like it the most when you cry off your makeup. all that black shit under your eyes. i almost feel bad.” he leans his head down a little so he’s closer to your level, and he’s speaking to you in a sympathetic quiet voice, as if it can convince you that his words aren’t a little mean.

“ugh but i just spent ages getting read—”

he cuts off your words with a little slap to the cheek. it’s not hard, believe it or not rafe doesn’t direct his physical rage towards you (not like that, anyway.) but it’s enough to shock you a little with a sting, your eyes filling with tears as if fulfilling his request. the flash of irritation that appeared on his face disappeared into that malicious smile again as he softly transformed the hand that slapped you into a finger pointed at your face. “i said… almost, a’ight?” he soothes a thumb over your hot cheek and you pout, despite everything enjoying his affection and undivided attention. god you’re messed up.

“don’t like when you get all mouthy n’start answering back.” he drawls, his eyes now leaving your own to drag down your body, eyeing your sundress as if deciding what he wants to paw at first. he settles on gripping the hem of it, slowly pulling it up until it gathers at your waist. “i’m gonna have to calm you down, now.” he’s nudging your thighs open with his hand and you’re letting him, gripping his fleece in your two hands for leverage as he cups your cunt through your panties. “hm. knew you’d want that. always do.”

[adams-angels]

ÓHi, could you smut Adam x fem Reader he has sex with Lucifer's wife

💖 I can certainly try! I had alot of fun writing this one idk why? I think I went slightly off topic but hopefully it's okay!💖

Revenge 😈

Adam X Lucifers wife!reader

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

Smut below the cut! Minors dni

Extermination day. Every year it's the same. Your husband always disappears a week leading up to the events and then a week after. You're already lonely since he spends most of his time making ducks. It was cute at first and now it's just annoying. You want attention. Any kind will do at this point.

You walk out onto the balcony looking down on the carnage that's destroying hell. You see a sinner nearby. "Oh, hello! Come inside you'll be sa-" a spear pierces through the being. "Shit." You grumble to yourself, leaning on the railing. "Awh, don't look so glum, slut." You didn't know why but he always visited. He'd always tease you about being alone the most dangerous time of year.

You roll your eyes at the voice. "hello, Adam." Groaning as you look up to the giant in mid flight. "What's up, babe? Luci left you alone and helpless another extermination day?" His obnoxious smile covers his face as he hovers above her. You push yourself off from the balcony railing, crossing your arms as your glare at him. "I'm not "helpless" Adam." You declare. It's true, you survived many extermination days before you married Lucifer.

"oh? What's stopping me from killing you right now then?" Adam asked, he thought he was so smart. "I don't know," you shrug. "why don't you tell me? I'm leaving myself wide open here, yet you're just..." You gesture to his body in flight. "There." He blinked. You could tell his little man brain was going into over time trying to find an excuse. "How abou- you just- argh!" He swoops down placing his hands on the railing, facing now inches apart. "Why don't you just fuck off and die!" He yelled. "Why don't you do your job and kill me?" You replied with a smirk.

He growled. "Won't your little friends be like, pissy, that you're sparing me?" You tilt your head with a smirk. "Won't your little husband be like, pissy?" You were confused. What did he mean by that? Before you knew it he closed the gap between you both and kissed you. Nothing fancy, a quick peck. He pushed himself away, both of you stared at each other like a deer in headlights.

You were only brought back to reality when Adam screamed and flapped his wings, blowing wind in your face. "AHH! FUCK YOU! WHORE- DIRTY FUCKIN- DIE, BITCH! I HATE YOU!" He yelled as he flew away, tripping on nothing as he headed back into the blood filled city. You touch your lips. Did that really just happen?

You head back into your marital bedroom. "What the fuck.." you mutter to yourself. You want to feel guilty, you really do. Lucifer is a good husband, but to be touched.. kiss. Fuck. From that moment on Adam consumed your thoughts. You longed for the next extermination day.

The year dragged. You just wanted to see Adam again. You wanted to fluster him. But the day was the day. You dressed up for it. God, it was sick you were excited for this disgusting day but it would be the only time you see him. Putting on your best little black dress you head to the balcony and wait.

The heavens open so it was only a matter of time before he'd come. At least you hoped. The day went on, you heard the screams, the pleading, the cries. All day. You usually last a couple of hours but all day was a bit much. You kicked nothing on the floor, frustrated that you let yourself believing he would return to you. You were a sinner. That's all he ever saw you as, that's all you ever will be to him.

You open the door to return to the bedroom but freeze. "Sup, sugartits." Adam. He wasn't sounding insufferable as usual. "What? Missed me?" Your turn to face him. He was right by the railing. His cocky smile was a cover up, that much you could tell. You step closer and slap him, hard. Good thing you're not a fallen angel other wise his mask would or cracked. "Hey! What the fuck was that for, bitch?!" He yelled in your face. In response you grab his collar kissing him, aggressively.

"I want you." You tell him, asserting your dominance. "O-okay.." his response surprisingly timid. You take his hand and lead him inside to your bed. Turning around a photo of Lucifer. "Yeah, that'll help with the guilt." Adam teased with a smirk, his narcissistic tone returning. "Shut up." You hiss, climbing on top of him, straddling his lap. "Mask off." "How did you kno-" "I'm not dumb, dickweed. Off."

He peels off his mask, he's a lot more handsome than you thought he was, still had that fucking grin. You move into his neck, gently kissing to gauge a reaction. You feel his member hardening underneath you. "You ready to get fucked by the first dick created, babe?"

"you know technically you're not the first dick created. You're the first human dick, sure but not the fi-" you're interrupted by his tongue down your throat. "Maybe shut up, yeah?" He mumbled in the kiss. Your tongues explored each others, as he gripped onto your hips lifting you up slightly to remove your panties to discover you're not wearing any. Pulling away from the kiss "Really? Someone's desperate?" He peppered your neck in kissed. "S-shut it."

He snaked his arms around your waist and flipped you into the bed. He towered over you. Why did God have to make the first man so tall? Hell, who are you to question?! You like it. You help him take off his robe and admire his body. It's pudgier than you were expecting, but you're not complaining. "Like what you see, sweet?"

He returned to your neck, his tongue travels from your ear down your collar bone to your chest then your nipple. Circling his tongue around it as his hardens. Taking it aggressively in his mouth as his hand travels down your body. Two of his fingers separate your folds while his middle finger prods your entrance. You can't help but gasp at his touch. He knows what he's doing.

As he inserts a single digit in your expectant cunt you can't help but reach for his hair, tugging at his locks. A grunt escapes from him. Slowly he fingers you, using his thumb to gently rub your clit. "Ah- Adam~!" You quietly moan. He releases your nipple and looks up at your desperate face. "Oh, fuck yeah, baby. Say my name." He inserts a second finger inside of you. Curling his fingers up, hitting your stop just right.

"m-more!" You demand. "What did I say?" He Purrs. "M-more, please- Adam, fuck me, please?" You beg, desperate for his cock. "Good girl." He removed his hand which causes you to whine. He adjusts himself between your legs with a smug grin. "W-what? Why do you look like that." You ask, you weren't even sure if you wanted the answer.

"just revenge is so fucking sweet, babe." He doesn't waste anymore time and thrusts himself inside of you. One hand on your waist, gripping so tightly it will leave a mark. "Fuckin' hell, ngh- y/n.." he grunts. It didn't take long before you were biting down on your arm trying to keep the noise to a minimum. He grabbed your wrist pulling it away from your mouth. "Scream for me, baby. Let everyone hear how much you love my cock." It didn't take long until you were screaming in pleasure, he threw your legs over his shoulders to get a better angle on your g-spot. He used on of his hand to hold your hip to get as deep inside of you as he could. His other hand was rubbing your clit. "A-adam, I'm close!" You exclaimed. "Then what you w-waiting for? Cum on my cock, babe." He fucked you harder not giving your a chance to lose your incoming climax. You pull yourself up, wrapping your arms around his shoulder as your walls contracted on his member. Bringing him closer to the edge. His arms wrapped around you as he continued to fuck you with mercy. "T-tell me you love me." He said. "What?" You were taken back by his request. "Tell me you love me! TELL ME YOU LOVE ME!" He repeated as his voice became more desperate. His hips bucked and his movements became sloppy as he finished inside of you. Collapsing on top of you on the bed.

His face in the nook of your neck once again. "So.... "Tell me you love me", huh?" His only reply is a groan of embarrassment.

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠

[steviewashere]

Cuddle Bug

Rating: General CW: None apply for this one! Tags: Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Cuddling, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Fluff, Tooth-rotting Fluff, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington's Friendship

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is feeling safe."

💕—————💕

The first time it happens, Eddie doesn’t say anything. Sort of just reigns himself for a night on the sofa, stiff to the cushions, hands spread and tight by his sides. Steve fell asleep on top of him. His snores directed right over Eddie’s heart. And Eddie is hopeless, really, helpless, too. He didn’t say anything or do anything. Even though he had to pee. But, when he thought about it, Steve had been especially tired—beyond spacey the entire day they hung out. So it was for the best that he just ignored whatever was happening. Eddie let himself fall asleep, too.

However, it kept happening.

Almost every time that Eddie came over. When he would lay on the length of Steve’s couch. Arms loose by his sides. The television on low. Steve would enter the room with a bowl of popcorn. He’d sit on the floor, make Eddie comb his fingers through his hair, and eat his little bowl of food. Then, at some point, he’d let out a jaw cracking yawn, stand to his full height, pop every vertebrae of his spine, and gently ask, “Can I lay on top of you? It’s okay if that’s too—“

“Just lay down, dude. You’re blocking the show.” And sure, maybe Eddie would be a little snippy with it. But not too rough. Not too dejecting. Because he liked Steve, loved really, and he would let Steve do anything to him.

Steve would lay down on him. His right arm tucked between Eddie’s body and the couch, his other arm dangling to the floor. Head cushioned on Eddie’s chest. Eyes pointed at the television. Yet, fifteen minutes in, he’d close his eyes and begin snoring. He’d jerk with the movement. Go boneless against Eddie’s torso. And Eddie would just have to deal with it. Because in no way is he going to be the one to make Steve lose even more sleep. No way. No how.

So it happens. And it keeps happening. And maybe Eddie’s heart is starting to do stupid things. And maybe Eddie just gestures to his body when Steve is done with the popcorn. And maybe, sometimes, his hand hovers over the back of Steve’s skull, ready to land on his hair, ready to just cup him there and hold him gently, like he deserves. But he doesn’t allow himself to touch. Not at all. Just wondering what it would be like. To just hold him. Not play with his hair. To carefully embrace him, that’s all.

Except, it happens one night when Robin’s over. And Eddie knows he won’t be able to explain the dynamic.

They’re watching something on the TV, as usual. Steve’s on the floor. Eddie’s hand is in his hair. They’re eating from the same bowl of microwave popcorn. Robin’s honk laughing in the recliner. And all is well.

Until, “Can I lay down on you?” Steve asks. And Eddie, without really acknowledging much of anything, just waves his hand to his torso. Steve stands from the floor, pops his spine, wipes his greasy hands on his sweatpants, and settles down over the length of Eddie’s body. He cushions his cheek. And he sighs contently.

The colors on the television reflect on his face. Blue and pink and purple and pink. Pink and red and red and green. Then, pink and pink and pink and pink. And then he’s snoring. He’s snoring. His body is jolting with it. Relaxing into the tight line of Eddie’s body. And Eddie holds his hands up from his sides. A hand hovering over the slight curve to Steve’s spine. The other, over his head, fingers twitching to settle in his hair.

Robin must look over at some point. She whispers, raspy and gentle, “He only does that around the people he loves and is most comfortable with.”

“What?” Eddie squeaks back, attempting to be quiet.

“He only does this with the people he loves,” she explains, “when he hasn’t been sleeping well. And he feels like he can trust you. Like he thinks that you’ve got him? He cuddles like this.” She makes the recliner creak. Her footsteps soft on the carpet. She’s crouching in the corner of Eddie’s eye. Her face looking onto Steve softly. “He says it helps him with the nightmares. He gets them too much. Doesn’t sleep through the night unless somebody is there with him. To hold him. You should hold him.”

And, she does the oddest thing, she stands up and leaves.

Like, leaves the room, leaves the house kind of leaving. And Eddie panics a little, because, What? What is he supposed to make of that?

The only logical thing is following her advice. One hand on Steve’s spine. The other cupping the back of his head. His middle finger tickling over Steve’s exposed temple. He sighs into the hold.

But then Steve stirs a little. “Robbie?” His sleepy voice slurs.

“It’s Eddie,” he says. “How about we get you to bed upstairs, cuddle bug?”

“Mh,” Steve grunts. “Tired.”

“That’s alright, sweetheart,” Eddie assures. “We can go to sleep upstairs. I’ll cuddle with you, if you want.”

“Really?” Steve murmurs, voice going quieter, nearly back asleep.

Eddie shifts his hold. Squeezing a little. “Yeah, Stevie. Let’s go upstairs and sleep, okay? I’ll keep you safer up there.”

“Okay,” Steve mutters.

“I got you,” Eddie promises.

“Got me,” Steve utters back. “Hands got me.”

“Yeah,” Eddie chuckles, “Hands got you.” And resigns himself to carrying Steve to his bedroom. Plopping him down on the bed. Getting under the covers. And holding him to the side of his body. Warm and content. With something, he can taste it, like love.

💕—————💕

[sleekswosobession]

ignored

alexia putellas x fem!reader

request: here

A/N: this photo is my roman empire and new tiktok pfp 😜 (my titles on fics or SO over dramatic icl)

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

Being the second captain of Barcelona, meant coming with a few responsibilities. Like showing new players around, and trying to include them in the atmosphere to make the whole move less daunting. It probably makes sense considering we are the best in the world.

Which is what’s happening right now, we’ve signed a new centre-back, considering we barely have any due to injuries. Currently we rely on a defensive midfielder, and anyone we deam can do it. Not ideal. January transfer is like heaven.

We walk around, talk about our lives a little bit as I try to make conversation more homey. Apparently she has a girlfriend who plays for PSG and I talk about Alexia, my other captain and long-time girlfriend. Who may (definitely) have a slight jealousy problem.

After a while of talking and walking, we make it to the gym and I announce the arrival.

“Everyone! As you know, we have a new person joining us! Make her feel welcome, included and we won’t have any problems. Got it?” They nod their heads going back to their respective activities as the new recruit smiles fondly at me, something which doesn’t go missed by Alexia.

I turn to face the CB.

“Now you, let’s get you headed for the locker room. I’ll show you your area and then you can go home for now. I’m assuming Jona has emailed you a schedule of everything?” She nods.

“Alright, now message me if you need anything and I’ll add you to the main group chat all of the girls are in.” She smiles and I lead her toward our changing rooms showing her where she’ll be.

“You can decorate a little bit, add some personality like some of the girls have. Anything you need can be kept here.” I point to a door at the end of the room.

“That’s the showers, obviously if you’re going anywhere after trainings. I know Patri likes to play music, so I suggest some strong noise-cancelling headphones if you don’t like the music. Any questions?” She shakes her head, I smile.

“Well then, go home. Settle into the new apartment, Ale and I live pretty close to you. Same with Ingrid and Mapi, who are also willing to answer anything else you have in mind.”

I pause.

“Now, if that girlfriend of yours ever comes to visit I’d like to meet her, I know it seems straightforward but I do like meeting new people.” I notice the recruit blushing, and pat her shoulder before leaving.

- - - - -

Over the next couple days, I ensure the new defender is fitting in well and she is. Hanging out with Ingrid and Frido but also Keira and Aitana, it’s good to see.

Alexia might think differently. I noticed her getting worked up over something but I can’t imagine what. I can but I don’t know how when a quick instagram search could cease any of her worries. She’s too straight headed for that.

It’s after training when I see her approach, I’m speaking on tactics in the locker room when Alexia slides in next to me, her arm wrapping protectively around my waist. I smirk then hear what she has to say.

“Ready to go home amor?” She says, kissing my neck softly, something she’d rarely do in such a public setting. I stifle my laugh nodding and saying my goodbyes to everyone else, getting in the passenger seat of our car as Alexia insists she always drives.

I sigh, her jaw is set and I can tell something is wrong.

“Alexia, qué pasó?” She shakes her head, her knuckles growing whiter as she grips the steering wheel. I know I can’t do anything but I seem so helpless at the moment.

It’s a completely different change from the confidence in the change rooms to now not even speaking to me.

We head inside without saying a word, I head straight for a shower to hopefully get a grip on where the conversation with Alexia will lead.

- - - - -

After the shower, I walk into the living room and Alexia is sat with her legs crossed in the couch, staring straight ahead at the blank TV. I break the silence.

“If you stare at the poor TV any longer I think it’ll break.” She doesn’t say anything, just nodding slowly her eyes darting toward me before back in front.

“I will not do this Ale. You need to tell me your feelings or we can’t work this out.” She huffs leaning back.

“Lo siento, I just… missed you.” Her voice quiet, I nod in understanding, I spent a lot of time with the new defender.

“So in other words, you’re jealous?” She blows an air bubble between her lips. (do you guys know what i mean by that)

“Maybe.” I can barely hear her voice but I don’t need to.

“Well baby, nothing to worry about because A. she has a girlfriend and B. I love you more than anything. Never forget that. I’ll try make more time and maybe we can meet the new ones girlfriend when she comes to Spain.” She nods slowly.

“Sorry I acted this way.” I shake my head.

“No, it’s ok. I understand, I sort of put you aside. I’ve learnt and I’ll prioritise your feelings a little bit more in the future.” She nods, tears glistening in her eyes.

“Te amo Ale. Remember it forever.” I place my lips against hers, gently and full of passion that I’d never give to anyone but her.

When oxygen gets the best of us I rest my forehead against hers, breathing in everything of this moment. Oh, I never want to leave.

[withacapitalp]

"Can I...um...roll to run away?" 

Judging by the chorusing round of sighs and disappointed head shakes from the kids, that was definitely not the right thing to say. 

"We've nearly defeated Kyuss," Mike shouted, throwing his hands in the air and shooting Steve a severe glare. 

"But all of you are passed out or paralyzed!" Steve shot back, gesturing around the table at the rest of the figurines which were lying on their backs. 

"Yeah, but you're a tank! You could take out the monster with one more blow. Now we're going to have to do it all over again.” 

But….wasn’t that the whole point? Doing this over and over again? Steve shot a helpless look at Eddie who just gave him his DM witchy grin and spread his hands open wide. 

“You can change your mind, Sir Steven,” Eddie offered, “But be warned Kyuss is hungry for flesh,” 

Steve hesitated, looking down and around the map. 

“No…I don’t think I’m gonna.”

"God, you're so stupid sometimes, Steve," Dustin groaned, letting his head fall onto the table with a soft thunk as the rest of the party started yelling. Steve forced himself to smile, his cheeks flushing as his stomach did an uncomfortable flip flop. It was loud, it was hot, and Steve just wanted to go home. 

"Stop it.”

Eddie voice cut through the rest of them. It wasn’t like he had spoken particularly loud, it was his tone. Severe, and brimming with uncharacteristic rage. Enough to make all of them quiet down and look at Eddie with wide eyes. Steve’s anxiety got even worse, and he was sure that Eddie was about to start yelling at him. Steve let his eyes slip down, shame making all the bones in his body ache. 

"I'm sure all of you were strategic geniuses the first time you played, right? You never stumbled or needed a second to think about the right move to make?” Eddie practically snarled, throwing dirty looks at every one of the kids. Steve sucked in a breath and dared a glance up, not quite believing what he was seeing. 

Eddie was defending him. Him. Steve. And he wasn’t done yet

“You all moan and grumble and fucking whine about how 'Steve never plays DnD with us', 'Steve won't even give it a chance', ‘He would see if he just played once’” Eddie said, raising his voice to a high pitched nasally yowl, “Of course he doesn't want to give it a chance, you are all being jerks.”

“Steve can handle it,” Max said with a roll of her eyes. 

“Yeah he can,” Eddie agreed easily, sparing a quick glance over toward Steve, “but that doesn’t mean he should have to. Especially not from you all. You little nerds have never had to deal with this, because you’re always ahead of the rest, but take it from the guy who failed his senior year twice- Being called stupid your whole life hurts .”

Eddie let the final word ring out, not bothering to hide the pain that lived in those words. Steve had never really considered that Eddie might’ve heard the same things he did, cause Eddie was the smartest person Steve knew besides Dustin and maybe Will. 

“From now on anyone calling anyone else stupid is getting 10 HP knocked off of their stats. Permanently. I don't want to hear that word. Got it?”

The kids all nodded, guilt weighing down their shoulders and lowering the mood. One by one they quietly apologized to Steve, Eddie nodding in satisfaction as they did. 

Steve didn’t really know what to think.  Eddie turned towards him, and Steve stiffened up, both worried and intrigued. 

“You can roll to run away. That's actually probably the smartest thing you could do here, seeing as you're pretty much the only member of the party left standing.” Eddie said softly, giving Steve a gentle smile, “Still wanna do it?”

Steve nodded, ready to fight this battle another day.

[antianakin]

It's probably been around a while and I just haven't encountered it before now, but the "yes everyone would have murdered a village down to the last child in that situation" take is a new one for me! Like would I have been justifiably upset in that situation? Yes. But what would I have done in that moment myself? Probably run. Granted I am not a person with a ton of unfathomable powers and a weapon I have spent a decade training to use that can cut through literally everything, but still. The argument that "well yeah EVERYONE would've done exactly what Anakin did" kinda falls apart when you think about it for two seconds because wow is that not what I would do when faced with being alone in the middle of an entire community of people who just captured and tortured my innocent mother for several weeks.

But it's also VERY hard to argue that this is even how everyone would react to this situation in Star Wars.

They literally have an entire arc where they explicitly have Obi-Wan's old nemesis who killed Obi-Wan's Master come to attack the home planet of someone he loves, captures her, and then murders her right in front of Obi-Wan with Obi-Wan helpless to save her. He then goads Obi-Wan into reacting in anger and Obi-Wan's reaction is to refuse to engage. He very explicitly refuses to even attack Maul because he knows he'd be reacting in anger and he's literally seen exactly where that leads before and overcome it. So when Obi-Wan IS put in an extremely similar situation, he chooses not to just go out and attack everybody as a result. He doesn't give in to his anger and fly to Dathomir to go kill every single Nightbrother on the planet as a form of justice for Satine, which is what this person is arguing is how literally anybody would react when placed in that situation.

Reva Sevander has every reason to despise Anakin, more reason than Anakin had to despise the Tuskens. And yet when she goes after Luke to try to kill him after she fails to kill Anakin, that becomes a line she can't cross. More accurately, it's a line Reva CHOOSES not to cross. So when put in that situation with all the same anger and grief as Anakin had with the opportunity to get her vengeance by killing an innocent child, Reva makes the active choice not to do what Anakin did. So while the impulse obviously was still there with Reva, she was fully capable of choosing not to go through with it. And Reva's been soaking in Darkness since she was about 8-10 years old, getting tortured and broken as an Inquisitor, surrounded by the corpses of her people, with zero support of any kind that she can turn to for comfort or guidance. Anakin had spent the last 10 years in a warm loving environment with people who cared for him and still had most of those people available to him to support him in this time of grief. And yet when faced with the same choice, Reva chose to pull back and let Luke live, but Anakin just kept going and massacred an entire village. It's a CHOICE, not an uncontrollable urge.

You know the only other person I can think up off the top of my head who DOES canonically have a similar reaction to Anakin's?

Aleksander Kallus.

Kallus explicitly states that he leads a genocide against the Lasat as vengeance for ONE Lasat killing a unit of Imperial soldiers in self defense. An entire species is nearly wiped out of existence because Kallus decided to let his anger control him.

But there are NUMEROUS other characters in Star Wars who we see lose people they love and proceed to not go on a murder spree against innocent people and children as a result. And the ones that do are pretty explicitly villains whose actions when in those situations are used to showcase just how villainous they are. Which indicates that it's NOT a normal reaction because otherwise it wouldn't really mean anything as a villain identifier. If it's something just about anyone would've done, it's probably not that villainous. The point of it NEEDS to be that most people WOULDN'T do that, even in justified anger.

[missmeinyourbones]

DRANK DRY THE RIVER LETHE

"These days I think I owe my life

To flowers that were left here by my mother,

Ain't that like them, gifting life to you again?

- First Time, Hozier

a/n: trying baby daddy touya, brief mentions of pregnancy, reader is exhausted and dealing w some parental impostor syndrome, reader and baby are referred to as touya's girls

Touya comes home to a crying baby, something that has slowly become the new norm for him.

The fall breeze is uncomfortably chilly now that the sun has long gone down, and he can hear the familiar shrieks and hiccups before he's able to unlock and open the apartment door.

You don't hear him enter over the whines of the baby you cradle and caress in your hold. Touya's met with the back of your head and the sound of your desperate coos as he kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket, making his way over to his girls. His family.

"Hey," he makes it a point to speak before letting his hand come to rest on your lower back. You'd think he'd have mastered how jumpy you are after all this time, but you flinch all the same at the sound of his voice.

He lets the warmth of his touch press up against your skin in an attempt to comfort you, but the second he's able to catch your eye, he knows it'll require a lot more than that to soothe your worries.

From your gaze alone, he can sense your panic almost immediately.

"She won't stop crying," is the first thing you say to him.

It comes out rushed and nervous, like you've been waiting for him to return home for hours. You have been, he knows to be true even though you don't say it.

He winces a bit as he takes in your appearance. You look smaller than he's ever remembered, and perhaps there's a truth to that old saying about not noticing something as it happens right before you, until it's already too late.

Your eyes are dark with exhaustion, his t-shirt swallowing you whole is covered with what he knows to be stains of vomit and spit-up. Your body doesn't stop moving, heels don't stop bouncing softly back and forth as you attempt to soothe your daughter in any way possible.

He doesn't ask how long you've been at this.

The haste returns when you continue, "She's not hungry, I've changed her three times, her temperature is normal, and I hate that I even checked her temperature more than once because she fucking hates it and--"

A calloused palm finds your head, gently brushing the tousled hair behind your ear and trying to rub the tension from behind your neck.

"Hey, hey. Easy."

He tries to console you. His tone is a bit cautious, like he's trying to slowly approach a wild and contaminated animal, but it comforts you all the same.

His heart hurts as he watches you take a shaky inhale, holding it for a brief moment before exhaling it just as uneasily. You're drained.

If this was three months ago, he'd instantly grab your wrist--force you to lay on top of him in bed until you inevitably pass out and succumb to your own exhaustion.

But things are different now, and he's not just in charge of you anymore. He has two girls to take care of, one being a lot more helpless than the other who needs him just as badly right now.

"I don't know what I'm doing wrong," you weakly admit through the tears that sit heavy in the back of your throat.

Nothing, Touya wants to say. He doesn't even think you're capable of doing something that isn't right, but he's self-aware enough to bite his tongue and focus on the task at hand.

His eyes fall to where the bundle of baby still shrieks and sobs against your arms. He slowly reaches to rub a soft finger against her puffy cheek before sighing to himself.

"Don't babies cry for no reason sometimes?" he mumbles.

"She doesn't cry like this for you."

He knows it's the fatigue behind your bite, so he chooses to ignore the harsh comparison.

"Yeah, she does, baby," he calmly breathes. "You're just tired."

Wordlessly, he motions for you to hand your daughter to him, and the pass happens naturally for all three of you. She leaves your arms and enters his without so much of a struggle. And you can't shake the failure that weighs heavy on your shoulders as you watch him gently bounce the baby on his hip, her cries almost immediately softening by being in his mere presence.

It takes all of thirty seconds before she's practically silent, resting on his chest and babbling herself into a calm drowsiness. His hand cradles the back of her head gently, mimicking how it did yours mere moments ago.

The scene before you is all you've ever wanted, and it's finally yours. And you absolutely hate that you feel a sob of exhaustion wrack through your chest, ruining a moment you never thought you'd have.

Touya watches you shrink before him, your eyes on the peaceful scene before you as you choke out a teary, "She hates me."

"Bullshit, c'mere."

He readjusts your baby so she's comfortably supported with one arm, using the other to snake around your shoulders and pull you in with them. You feel his hand flat against your sore back, rubbing gentle circles and pressing you into his warmth.

The three of you stand huddled together, all clinging onto one another in one way or the other. The baby in Touya's hold rests her sock-covered foot on the flat of your arm. You lean into Touya's chest, head right next to your daughter's as he whispers sweet reassurances. You don't need to ask to know they're meant for the both of you.

After a few minutes, Touya pulls away a bit, but only to use both hands to place the baby back in her crib. The transition is easy and she's out cold as she sinks into the tiny mattress pad and sprawls out.

The two of you lean on one another, hovering over the wood to watch her sleep. Her eyelids flicker with movement, her chubby fingers squeezing around nothing every now and then.

Eventually, Touya tiredly whispers into your hair, “I learned all this from you, y'know."

Sniffling with heavy eyes and a confused pout, you weakly turn your head up to look at him in confusion.

Assuming he's talking about parenthood, his words don't make any sense in your fatigued and spiraling mind.

You learned together. He was there in the hospital when the midwives walked you through swaddling and latching and burping. When you'd discovered that your daughter preferred to eat after napping because nursing before made her sick. Watching online tutorials on which bassinet is safest for newborns---Touya was there, for all of it. He didn't learn anything about this from you.

But when he looks down into your watery eyes, through the dark of the nursery and against the shallow breaths of your sleeping daughter, you realize he's not talking about that.

His voice is a mere whisper when he confesses, “Like, how to love her right.”

Sniffling and swollen, you open your mouth to protest, but no words come out. Utterly speechless, you just stare at him a bit dumbly.

Touya fights off a smirk at your uncharacteristic silence, directing his attention back to the sleeping baby once more.

"Wouldn't know how to do this if it wasn't for you, letting me learn how to love you," he admits.

He reaches down into the crib to where she sleeps on her back, arms spread out and upward like she's stretching her tiny limbs. He takes the tips off his fingers and gently rubs her onesie-covered tummy.

“So, when she feels it from me," he whispers, not taking his eyes off of the annoyingly perfect baby before him, "it’s really just an extension of you.”

A moment of silence passes. In the heaviness of the moment, he almost thinks you didn't hear him. But he's proven wrong--something he's learned is often the case with you--when he turns his head to where you wait. Touya sees your eyes and cheeks glistening with newly shed tears, no longer the dried ones from your weariness and anxiety, gleaming up back at him.

He can't help but shake his head and laugh at the soft sight before him, withdrawing his hand from the baby's tummy and wrapping it around your shoulder.

He ushers your head into his chest, muttering a loving, “Alright crybaby, c'mon.”

He lets you sniffle and close your eyes against the cheap cotton of his shirt, letting his own eyes shut and resting his chin atop your head.

Slowly, but all the same, you feel that gentle sting of guilt eventually fade from your lungs with each gentle exhale. With heavy eyes and bad posture, you ground yourself through the senses around you. Touya's skin against yours, the sounds of gentle sighs and sniffles. The baby, the one that you had together, safe in her crib with the sole responsibility of innocently existing.

You don't want to ever forget this, or maybe you do. Half of you wishes you could forget it, just to receive the blessing of experiencing it for the first time all over again.

“Also use my quirk sometimes,” you think you hear muffled into the crown of your skull.

You open your puffy eyes to look up at him, confused.

"What?"

You watch Touya smugly shrug as he brushes the stray and sticky hairs from your clammy forehead. A sly blush creeps up his neck and jaw when he fights off a smile.

"Warm my hand up and put it on her stomach," he admits casually, caressing your soggy cheek, "shuts her right up."

You laugh, wet and pathetic and absolutely enamored by him, "That's cheating, you asshole."

You don't blame her, you think, considering the countless times you've requested the same thing from him. From period cramps to pregnancy pain to just wanting to feel him--maybe it's genetic, having your DNA and craving his warmth simultaneously.

You decide that Touya must be thinking the same thing, because he simply chuckles with you, rubbing your back as you feel the familiar heat of his fingers begin to tingle.

"Yeah, yeah," he kisses your head, "wonder where she learned that from."

[elordilover]

HIIIII UM CAN I HAVE A WALKER SCOBELL X FEM!READER AND SHE GOT CAUGHT WATCHING EDITS OF HIM AND LIKE DIOR AND LEAH SNATCH HER PHONE AND LOOK AT WAHT SHE WATCHING AND WALKER SEES WHATS HAPPENING AND THEY SHOW HIM🥺🥺

I LOVE THIS !!!!

edits

pairing: walker scobell x fem!reader

summary: while you, dior, and leah were hanging out on set and they steal your phone and discover what you were watching

warnings: not proof read, sorry that the edits are on pinterest 💀 i don’t have tiktok

————————————————————————

you were on set, but weren’t needed until 9:25 so you decided to just chill on the couch until that time. you could admit that you had a tiny crush on your costar, walker scobell. i mean who didn’t. you would never admit this but, you secretly had edits of your costar saved on tiktok.

no one else was around so you decided to put in one of your airpods and scroll through a few of your favorite edits.

you tried to keep your cheeks from turning red just in case dior or leah walked past. they would for sure ask what you were all smiley about.

“Y/N”, you heard as footsteps got closer to you, it was dior and leah. shoot. that was a close one.

you immediately turned off your phone and protected it with your life, you would never hear the end of this is they found out what you were watching. leah sat down on your right and dior on your left, both of them were confused why you were being so protective of your phone, you usually weren’t.

“what are you hiding”, dior asked with a high pitched tone.

“nothing”, you said quickly, “what do you mean”

“oh Y/N, look who it is, aryan!”, dior said while pointing toward the boy who walked toward you three.

you felt someone’s hand across your lap, grabbing your phone. leah grabbing your phone. after she secured it, her and dior ran off before you could steal it back.

“stop”, you yelled. you didn’t care if you were interrupting a shot, you had to get your phone back.

since leah was one of your best friends, she had your password to your phone and immediately unlocked it. once you realized this you sprang up from your seat and started dashing to them.

“guys, i’m serious stop!” you yelled toward them as they continued running away from you.

you saw both of their jaw drop, their eyes go wide and look up toward you. you knew that they found what you were trying to hide.

leah and dior looked at each other, both silently agreeing what to do next. they bolted toward set, where walker was. oh my god. this is not going to end well. a million different possibilities ran through your head. what will walker think? what will he do? will we still be friends?

you tried to chase after them but you knew it would be horrible if walker saw you after your secret had just been revealed. you stayed put and felt helpless.

you could see walker’s confused expression as they sprinted toward him. you were still relatively close so you could hear all the words that were being said.

“walker!”, dior and leah both yelled at the same time, out of breath.

“what, what’s going on?” he replied.

“you have to see this!” dior said while leah passed the phone toward walker, gesturing for him to take it.

“wait is this Y/N’s phone? why do you have it? wait where is she?”, walker rambled on.

“it doesn’t matter just watch what’s on there”, leah replied quickly, just wanting walker to see it.

walker looked down and saw his own face on the screen. he turned up the volume and watched will a slightly confused look.

“wait okay now look”, dior said while grabbing the phone out of his hands and showing him all of your saved edits. edits of him to be exact.

“wait where is she?” walker asked concerned.

you were terrified that walker was going to come and find you. you never want to see him again after this. this will most likely ruin your entire friendship that you spent months creating.

“well i don’t know where she is now, but she was right over there a second ago”, leah said while pointing over to where you were.

without a second thought walker came speed walking toward where you were, he was determined to find you. you were terrified, what was he going to say to you? leah and dior decided to stay there and watch what was about to go down.

“Y/N?”, you heard his soft voice say, “oh my god there you are”

“im sorry”, you said, prepping yourself for a rejection.

“no it’s okay i promise baby” he whispered while your cheeks immediately heated up due to the pet name.

his arms stretched out toward you for a hug. you accepting, breathing in his scent, you were relived he didn’t hate you over this ordeal.

“and to make you feel better, i have a bunch of edits of you saved”, he whispered in your ear, just loud enough for you to hear.

————————————————————————

thank you guys so much for reading! feedback is appreciated!

*requests are open*

taglist 🏷️: @izzystylinson @saltnseas kesha16

@platypusbearrr@lilly-andreas123

🎀♥️🫒🫐🌈🌍🌺🪷💟🐇🐝🦋🧦🫀🌚🥿❤️

[cowboyfromh3ll]

how about for arthur, john, and charles: your hcs on how each would react to a shyer (not naive) reader who has a crush on him and keeps needing his “help” for various things so she can get his attention, and eventually working up the nerve to be more forward and hopefully pique his interest. who would catch on the fastest? would any of them realize before or after she becomes more forward and how would they react from there? smut absolutely welcome 🙏🏻

HC for Shy!Reader ft. Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Charles Smith

HCs are so easy and fun to write

Warnings: smut

Arthur Morgan

Arthur did not allow you much time to go and ask for help given his repeated and lengthy absences from camp

But when he was around to help, he put his all into it

No matter how mundane or small it may be, he always made sure to help you until satisfaction. Similar to the way he helps random people around the map, he helps you in the same way. 

But the level at which you asked for help was quite baffling to Arthur, but he never made a comment on it. He would never want to make you feel as though you were somehow less competent at doing things than the average person

He liked the way you would try to strike up conversation with him whenever he was helping you, recounting his travels to you in detail upon request

Part of him wondered why the two of you didn’t just talk more often outside of his time helping you. What he didn’t know is that you were unable to come up with a decent, not-too-forthcoming, excuse as to why the two of you should spend more time together alone 

He probably wouldn’t catch onto that fact too quickly, instead thinking you were just a person who wasn’t afraid of asking for help

He’d definitely think something was up when he realizes he’s the only one you ask

Maybe he’s just a dependable guy? He thinks to himself

But when you ask him to help you go fishing, come to find out you didn’t even have a rod, it was too late to back out as the two of you were already alone down the lake at Clemens point

He felt quite touched when you told him you really just wanted to spend time together, and that you weren’t sure how else to ask

Insisted you be more forward with him to establish a level of comfort between you two, but he still found it quite cute when you would shyly ask him for help

Eventually led to you two becoming very close, noticeably sweet on each other. Even the gang was able to catch on.

NSFW

Even though the two of you had been in an established relationship, your bashfulness did not end.

Asking for help for sexual matters was something you subtly hinted at or wordlessly requested, rather than outright saying it

Arthur himself was a man who needed clear permission, and your hints would be met with crudely sexual questions asking for confirmation

“You wanna have sex? Is that what you’re saying? Or am I understanding this all wrong.” 

His forwardness would have you burying your burning face in your shared cot as you nodded

Arthur was a very perceptive man, so when asking if he was rubbing your clit just right or if he needed to slow his thrusts down, you’d squeak out an embarrassed response

When you wanted him to touch you in a certain place, you’d nudge him in the direction, yank on his hand or hair, or simply just bashfully point wordlessly

Makes sure to constantly ask questions because he knows you’re not very vocal when it comes to self advocacy

Extremely tender and very patient with you, just wants to make you feel comfortable in the end to be able to vocalize your needs

John Marston (my pookie)

This man is as dense and stupid as a bag of rocks

The man himself doesn’t even know what he wants, so figuring out what you want is mental gymnastics on its own

He’s around pretty often helping around camp, and he doesn’t mind taking on the brunt of your chores as well

Doesn’t realize what you’re trying to do so sometimes he turns you down, saying he’s too busy

“Are you really that helpless?” 

He’d stand there confused as you stormed off angrily, only to have him follow you around camp begging for forgiveness

“I ain’t mean that, I’m happy to help you. I’m a fool, honest.”

You’d forgive him eventually

If it’s a more tedious task you need help with, he would get into the zone. Honing in all his attention while trying to fulfill his efforts in helping you as competently as he can

Focuses so much, that sometimes if you try to strike up a conversation about his day, he’ll either shut you down, or be so concentrated he won't even register your question

“Hold on, can you stop talking for a sec? I’m tryna concentrate.”

Would be equally as confused when you huff angrily and turn away while crossing your arms

You realize yourself that John isn’t picking up any hints, so you offer your own help as a form of “repayment” for everything he’s done for you

Is also dense about that 

“I appreciate the help, little lady. Though I don’t see why you’d willingly offer to help to fix a wagon wheel.”

Kinda laughable how oblivious he is

Eventually you have to muster up all the courage possible to ask him on a date to town

Emphasize the word date. Or else he’ll think you just want help with errands or something

Will accept, but won’t shut up the whole time about how sudden this is and how he would’ve never seen it coming

NSFW

Would get very excited if you even hint at something sexual

Much like Arthur, he’d ask for confirmation, but much more enthusiastically

“So you wanna fuck right? Right?!” 

Kinda desperate but who can blame him, you’re equally as horny

Get so caught up in excitement he gets straight to it, has to be reminded to ask questions and check up on you

The one time where you actually feel compelled to tell him things straight up instead of just hinting at it

“For the love of god, slow down Marston!”

He would for a few minutes, then get back to it

Would still be shy with asking, but you get so frustrated with how dense he is you’re kinda forced to

His excitement rubs off on you, so he doesn’t mind at all when you just shove his face between your thighs, that does all the speaking for you

Says shit like “You like that, don’t you?” without actually waiting for a response

Gets very embarrassed when you say no and ask him to do it another way

Charles Smith

This man's love language is literally acts of service

He’d probably end up falling for you in the process of helping you out so often

Will be more than happy to take you up on every request for help

Not only does it make you happy, but it makes him feel good for being able to help someone

Literally thrives off of it

He would be the one to pick up on it the fastest, but he wouldn’t make a comment. He doesn’t want to scare you off by being too forward and therefore curtailing your requests for help

Would be very intimate while helping you

“Hey, come closer to take a look at how I do it.”

You would lean in incredibly close, so much so that you’d be able to hear his breathing

Would sometimes take your hands and make you do it as well

Hands would linger far longer than necessary while helping you

And you aren’t naive! You knew what he was doing! He was flirting with you!

From an outside perspective, it appeared as though the two of you were just sitting around together and flirting rather than doing something to help you

“Like this?” You’d ask, which was followed by a giggle

It was pure self indulgence

He would often approach you himself and ask if you needed help on anything

Other times, he’d ask if you wanted to learn something new, showing you how to make weapons or how to identify certain plants from one another

Some tasks would be found mundane by others, but it was the most entertaining thing in the world as long as Charles was teaching you

You would feel most comfortable with him with asking him out, your question sounding more like a mutual profession of love from one another

NSFW

So so gentle

Much like in your relationship, you’d feel far more comfortable expressing your wants and desires to him

But you still struggle to maintain eye contact while saying it

If you turn your face away during sex he’ll gently cup your cheek and move your head to face him

Can pick up on your body language if you don’t feel too vocal

Will slow down or pick up the pace based on how your body reacts

Your moans are also a good indicator for him to know

Will also ask you questions before and after sex, like your some sort of food critic and you’re giving him feedback on his dish

You guys will probably sit down and have whole talks about your sex life, as embarrassed as it makes you, but he finds it necessary

Guy is a huge giver, in no time, he’ll know your body and what you do and don’t like like the back of his hand

[comedi-anne]

I'm feeling self-indulgent, so here's some DOL headcanons about the Lis taking care of you when you're sick.

Kylar -Oh he's on cloud 9. You're so helpless! -You HAVE to stay in bed, so you're easy to find! And watch. :3c -Please just sit back and let him take care of you. <3 -Which he does… to the best of his ability… -But he kinda gets sidetracked and pervy. -Like he'll make you a lovely soup, but there's a special ingredient in there you probably wouldn't want to consume if you knew it was in there. -Or he'll tuck you in for a nice nap, but you have a hazy fever dream of someone straddling you and panting. -Gosh, you woke up so "sweaty" your skin feels sticky… -He lets you cuddle with his stuffed animals to make you feel better. -It's honestly quite sweet. Those toys were a great comfort to him at one point… -After his parents turned, he didn't have anyone to take care of him when he was sick. -So he'd hug his toys to feel some level of comfort. He hopes they do the same for you. -Although he would prefer you cuddle him. -Because he gets way too up close and personal, he catches whatever bug you've gotten. -He expects to be nurtured and attended to just as he did for you.

Whitney -He does not want to get sick. -Fuck you for getting sick and putting him at risk. -Cuz he can't just leave you like this… -I mean, how's he gonna have fun if his favorite slut up and dies on him cuz of some weak-ass common cold? -So he takes care of you. "Begrudgingly." -He wears a mask the entire time. -He refuses to get too close to you. -Honestly, he mostly just drops ramen soup and cold medicine in a bag before leaving you to your own devices. -But he's always popping in to check up on you. -He'll peek his head through the door to see if you're doing any better. -Sometimes he'll gently press his palm against your forehead to check your temperature. -If it's too high, he'll get a worried look on his face. -He'll remind you to take your fucking medicine so you don't boil in your own skin. -He misses you.

Robin -Oh Robin is both horribly underprepared and the most equipped to deal with you being sick. -You've known each other your entire lives. Of course he knows how to take care of you. -But you take care of him… That's the arrangement, right? -The longer you stay in bed, the less time you have to make money for the both of you. -He shudders to think what will be done to you when you're too weak to fight back. -He panics thinking about what will be done to him. -He tries to balance his time between tending to you and tending to his lemonade stand. -He needs to work extra hard to make sure you both have enough money at the end of the week. He knows you have something saved up, but he doesn't know if it's enough. -But the more he works, the more you're alone. And you're so helpless like this. -It's a constant mental struggle trying to prioritize what you need more. -He feels selfish for wanting you to get better, because he knows that desire is partly motivated by his need for you to support him. -He plays video games beside you to try to keep your mind off your illness. -You fall asleep to it as background noise. -He likes watching you sleep. -When you're awake, he can all too often see the anguish on your face. -Sleep is the only place you're free. -He hopes you have good dreams.

Eden -He hates being sick. -Living alone in the woods means there's no one to take care of you when you're sick. -It doesn't matter if you feel like shit, if you don't keep up with your chores it could mean the difference in surviving or not. -…But that's living alone in the woods. -Now he has company. -He'll be a little more lenient with you. -He'll try to cook meals, so you don't get your germs in the food. -He'll let you bathe separately, but he still insists on washing you. -He makes an extra trip into town so he can buy you some medicine. -He'll try to be extra quiet. -He's already not much of a talker, but he'll the sounds around the cabin to a minimum. -He knows congestion can cause sinus headaches, and he doesn't want you to be in any more discomfort than you already are. -He reads silently, but he still wants to sit beside you. -He likes patting your head as you head it in his lap, so he still feels like your little nightly ritual continues even in your illness. -He doesn't wait for you to fully get better before putting you back to work. -Once your fever breaks it's back to keeping him company.

Avery -This is quite an inconvenience for him. -You had to miss your date, because you fell ill, and he looked like a fool waiting for you to show up. -When he sees you around town one day, he pulls over to yell at you. -But you look like SHIT. He can immediately tell you've come down with something. -He's still pissed, but he kinda understands… -He offers to drive you to the doctor. -He stays in the waiting room while you have your appointment. -You're honestly surprised to see him still there when you leave. -He says not to make a big deal out of it. -He can't have his arm candy looking half-dead. -Even if you are sick, looking that ragged is bad for his reputation. -He drives you home, but he doesn't drive you back to the orphanage. -He brings you to some hotel. -He knows the kind of squalor you live in. Being in that filth can't help your recovery time. -He pays for you to have a room for a few days. -Room service brings you your meals. -He calls you every day to make sure you're resting and taking your medicine. -He'll know if you're lying. -When you're better, he expects his kindness to be paid back in droves.

Sydney -He'll make sure to pray for your health from now on when he visits the temple. -He makes sure you're still eating and drinking plenty of fluids! -You can't get better if you don't give your body fuel to fight off the illness. -He likes taking care of you… -Your face is so flushed due to the fever. -Your nose is clogged up due to the mucus, so you have to pant and breathe through your mouth. -He watches your chest rise and fall with labored breaths. -…He tries to ignore that sight. -But you make it rather difficult. -The way you weakly reach out for him, the way you call out his name so soft and weak… -You really need him, don't you? -He's taking care of you because he cares. -Not for any ulterior motive. -Not for any joy on the power he has over you. -He'd never use that power to harm you after all. He's a good boy. -…But the fact he could do something, well, maybe he thinks about the possibilities a little too much. -He's happy when you're feeling better. -He misses seeing you so weak before him.