#once again having unexpected expenses... hi..

[meganehaven]

limited sale over on my vgen!!

[darnell-la]

i crave more mob boss!wolverine

𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗜𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗬 𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗗

pairing: possessive mob-boss!logan howlett x stripper!reader

warnings: kidnapping, forced working, strangers to lovers, stripping, spoiling, grinding, breast play, tit sucking, riding, orgasm, possessiveness, rough fucking, claiming, etc.

summary: y/n had no idea who the top boss was and what he wanted from her. She soon found out during an unexpected requested private dance.

note: Logan is a man who’s going to mark his grounds. He’s very territorial. Reading this story will make you understand…

———

How do you guys feel about a x men story with reader? Logan being rude Logan at first, then slowly shows small affection towards the reader. Jealousy and things of that sort. They soon hit it off, and after Logan starts acting rude again, because he’s scared of the love he grew for her. It’ll be a long story, but something to read at night. ALL ON WATTPAD! Comment below, please!

———

Working at a strip club was one thing when y/n first started the job. She was uncomfortable, but the ladies had made her feel welcomed.

Working for a mob boss was another; this time, she had to work whether she was comfortable or not. She tried talking to her boss, but his boss was the one who said she needed to relocate. There was no arguing.

Y/n tried to quit that day and soon found out how dangerous this man was. A few men had broken into her apartment, taking the lady with a fight.

She pled for help, but the people in the apartment knew whose men they were. They quickly went back into their own space and minded their business.

She now lives in a nightclub unwillingly. She wasn’t trusted by the top boss, so he made her stay where she would always be supervised.

This club was different than the last one she had worked at. It was bigger, cleaner, seemed more expensive, and the work she had to do was harder. She had never given private dances, but with her new schedule, she had to.

She’d never met the boss before. She demanded almost every day, but for months, Logan had sat back and ignored her requests.

When she first started at the other club, he hadn’t paid any attention to her because he had other things to worry about, but after he noticed her growth and the business she brought in, he decided to pay attention to her.

That meant he watched her dance, watched her have fun with the other girls, had people surveillance her outside of work, and maybe he’d do it himself if he had time.

The woman grew onto the man, so much, he couldn’t ignore her. He’d think and ask about her every day until too he finally told her boss, the man who worked for him, that she’d be relocating to his top club.

Y/n couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t being treated right occasionally. Her dances cost more, the private dances could pay her old rent, and she would get a daily allowance from the mysterious boss, which was double what she made in a week.

Anytime she thought about running away and making the higher-ups upset, she would sit back and think about her life, and the money.

She had no idea if this man was capable of killing her, and why would she run away from a job that gave her so much money, she could buy literally anything she wanted.

Y/n didn’t know this, but Logan would never harm a soul. Especially her. If she were to run away, he’d simply get her back.

“How long is this dance?” Y/n sighed as she walked in front of one of the VIP doors that was guarded more than usual. Usually, there are only two being on each side of the door, but tonight, the whole hallway was full of security guards.

“As long as he says,” the man replied to her with no facial expression. Y/n rolled her eyes as she opened the door to go in.

Once she got in, she saw a man in a chair, facing the other way. He was smoking a cigar and had a bottle of hard liquor sitting on the coffee table next to him.

Y/n closed the door before dimming the lights. She had no idea who this man was, as always, but she still continued her work.

Y/n pressed a button on the wall which turned on music for her. Her own playlist that she made to make her work against her will.

Logan, the boss would never allow any of his workers to do this, but for y/n, he exuded it. He wanted to make her feel comfortable without giving her up. That is why he gives her an allowance. Steppers don’t get an allowance from the boss.

“How do you want this session to go, baby?” Y/n asked as she came up behind the man, touching his shoulders softly as her lips slightly grazed his ear. The smell of her this close smelled amazing to the man.

“Touchy and slow,” the man said, making the girl walk around him until she was in front of him. “Good choice,” she smirked, knowing those are the best-paying sessions.

Y/n took a few steps away from the man and began stripping, slowly. She had this tight dress on she had never worn before. He picked that out for her.

“Slower,” he demanded in a soft and low voice. Y/n listened, pulling the straps from her shoulder as slowly as she could go with the music she had chosen.

Once y/n got the dress off, she turned around, showing off her body to the man. He had also picked the lingerie. He knew she’d look stunning in it.

“C’mere,” he said as he sat his cigar down and shifted in his chair. Y/n slowly turned around and walked towards the man who patted his lap.

“Sit,” he said, and she did as told, putting her knees on both sides of his outer thighs. “You can touch anywhere that’s not clothed,” y/n said as the man slowly placed his hands on her ass cheeks, gripping the slightly.

“Ain’t that so?” He softly chuckled as she began grinding her hips. “Mhm hm,” she hummed as she placed her hands on the man’s shoulders.

“What if I tell you I’m a special request? — A special guest,” he said, making her lean into his ear. “Then you’ll have to talk to my boss about a price change,” she said, knowing most don’t.

The man laughed as he softly traced his hands u the girl's body until she cupped her cheek, making her look into his eyes.

He was one of the best-looking customers she’s had. Tall, dark, handsome, muscular, actually smelled good, and the way he touched her almost seemed like soft and careful loving touches.

“Maybe I will,” he said, making her heart skip a beat. “I-I don’t know if he’ll allow it though,” y/n tried lying, and he knew that. “And why would that be, Bub?” The man asked as she kept grinding on him with soft but rough touches on his chest and shoulders.

“I don’t know,” she replied, making him chuckle again. “Lemme ask him real quick,” the man said before he closed his eyes shut. Y/n stopped her movement, confused about what he was doing.

She went to speak until his eyes finally opened. “He said, I can,” Logan answered for himself. “I don’t think that's how it works, baby,” y/n giggled, finding the man funny.

“Oh, but I do, Bub,” the man said as his hands slowly traced up her body until his fingers hugged into her bra. “Hey, if you wanna good session, you gotta follow the rules-“ Before she could say anything, the man ripped her bra off, clean.

Y/n let out a short scream as she covered herself up. “That’s it — Get out!” Y/n went to get up, but he gripped her waist tightly, keeping her in place.

“Why is that?” He asked with a smirk, liking how defensive she got. “If you don’t leave, I’m gonna call the boss,” she said, making him chuckle. She had no clue. She was about to find out.

“Told you, he said it was alright,” Logan said, making the girl give him a face of confusion. She was confused and thought to herself until it clicked in her head. He was the boss.

That’s why he had so many guards outside of the VIP room. That’s why she was requested to wear a certain outfit. She was dancing for the boss.

“O-Oh, sorry, I — I didn’t know,” y/n said, still keeping her breast covered, but had lightened up her body, trying to relax more so she wouldn’t lose her job. Yes, she’s thought about escaping, but with the money. I’d he fired her and kicked her out, she wouldn’t get the money.

“All good, darling. Just wanting to surprise my favorite girl,” Logan said, hands softly grabbing her wrist to pull them away from her chest. She fought back for a second, but soon let him do what he wanted.

“Good girl — Too pretty to be coverin’ up in front of me,” he said as both of his hands cupped her chest, massaging them with kindness. He wanted her comfortable before he brought out the man he was.

“I-I know I work for you, b-but I don’t usually do this,” y/n stuttered as the man’s fingers pinched and played with both of her nipples slowly.

“Mhm hm,” he hummed, fixated on making something spark in her, and he soon did. A small moan escaped her mouth after she parted her lips. It was hard to hide how good his touch felt.

“Logan- Mister Howlett,” y/n corrected herself, trying to come out of respect, but it’s not like he’d get rid of her. She could punch him right now, and he’d keep her. He’d shit shows her the consequences of those actions.

“Can call me Logan, Bub,” the man said right before he latched his mouth around one of the girl's nipples. Y/n moaned lightly, hands flying to his hair to tug on, but not away.

“Oh, fuck,” was all she could say as she started on the man again. If this was another man, she would’ve been fought, but with him, she couldn’t bring himself to. He played with her too well.

Logan groaned onto the girl's chest, sensing vibrations through her body as his hands tried to her panties until he ripped them off clean, just like her bra.

“Gonna listen to your boss, baby?” Logan asked in between his sucks. “Y-Yes, sir,” she whined as she leaned her head back. “Good girl,” Logan groaned as he pulled back and shifted under her.

“You’re a tasty little thing, but still a hard ass,“ Logan said, making the girl's heart pump. “I-I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I promise,” y/n felt like she was begging, and she was. Who knew how much she actually needed this job, and how much she needed him.

“Oh, yes, you will, because you got a lot of making up to do for me,” Logan said as he finally got his cock out of his jeans. Y/n’s sucked in a low breath at the size and sight of him.

He was huge. He was hard. He was leaking. He was hurting. He’s needed y/n for a while, and she’s about to find that out. “Ride me, Bub,”

Y/n was hesitant, but managed to lift herself up, allowing Logan to shift his body under her so she was right aligned with him.

“Listen to me, baby, or you’ll regret it,” Logan quickly changed his attitude, which didn’t alarm y/n in a bad way. It was actually making her more wet than she already was.

“Y-Yes, sir,” she stuttered again before he slowly sunk down onto the man. “F-Fuck,” y/n quickly winced at the pain. He stretched her quicker than she’d ever been stretched before.

“That’s it, baby — Get me all in,” Logan placed his hands on her waist to guide her down quicker. Y/n clenched around the man. She even twitched.

“Ah huh,” the man breathed out as she finally got every inch of him inside of her with a slight eye cross. She had felt the knot in her stomach built in an instant.

“Start movin, Bub,” Logan spoke in a warning tone, making sure she knew he didn’t want to take any type of time with this. “I paid for this session,” the man added.

Y/n placed her hands back on the man’s shoulders to help herself before she began bouncing slowly. Cunt gripping his pulsing rock-hard cock as.

“Fuuck,” the man groaned as he threw his head back. “So fucking tight,” the man admitted as she whined. It didn’t take long for her wetness to coat his cock, allowing her to move on him smoother.

“Gonna keep you, baby. Not like I haven’t already,” Logan said as he leaned his head back up, watching y/n crumble on his lap.

“Gonna be my girl, baby? Officially? Some gotta work no more, only for me,” Logan said as a hand softly wrapped around her neck. “Mhm hm,” y/n accepted something she didn’t even think about.

“Yeah? Gonna be a good girl and stick by my side for the same pay?” He asked. “Yes,” y/n whined, but down, she didn’t care about the pay, and he could see that. He could read right through her.

“Money isn’t the prize for you though, now ain’t it, baby? You just wanna ride my cock until you go dumb,” Logan said, making her nod her head repeatedly.

“Oh, yeah,” the man groaned darkly as he planted his feet and began plunging up into the younger lady, making her take him far more than she could handle.

“Oh, fuck,” y/n cried as the grip on his shoulders tightened. “Good little girl — So damn pretty and obedient. Almost thought you hated me,” the man smirked up at her as she shook.

She did hate the man. That was until she realized how good-looking he was and how damn good his cock felt.

“So drunk on my cock, you’re forgetting I basically took you from your home,” the man fake pouted as he snapped his hips harder, allowing the room to fill with their skin clapping.

“I’m gonna cum, sir,” y/n warned, making him groan at how good she sounded calling him sir. “Good, baby. Cum on my cock. Soak my jeans. Show me who you belong to. Show me who I belong to,” Logan said, feeling his own orgasm near.

“Oh, yes — Yes, yes,” y/n cried out as she shook, letting loose all over the man with a loud moan. “That’s it! Fuckin’ cum on me, y/n. Cum!” The man’s grip on her neck and waist tightened, making y/n feel taken over. That feeling only made her mind foggy.

“Gonna fill you up, baby. You gonna like that? Gonna take it? — Tell me you’re gonna take it, baby,” Logan needed to hear her. “Gonna take it,” y/n could barely get out from how slow her mind was moving her the lack of air getting out of her throat. “Ah huh, ah huh!”

Logan brutally fucked the girl with a loud groan, spilling into her as she shook and went slack. He held her up though, making sure her half-opened eyes looked down at the man who now claimed he’d officially.

“Yes, baby,” the man couldn’t stop rutting into her. The pleasure only grew more as he heard her and his cum mixing together in her cunt. She was full, but he wanted to fill her more.

“Fuck, c’mere,” Logan said as he picked y/n up and threw her over his shoulder. He paid no attention to the state they were in and walked out of the VIP room.

“Cancel all appointments with y/n for tonight and any other night — Buy everything on the list I made all week so she’ll have something good to wake up to,” Logan said as he walked down the hallway and out of the back door that lead to other parts of the club.

Logan carried y/n to his room which was on the last floor of the large building. He knew she had questions to ask the whole way up, but all she could let out were whines.

Her cunt still leaked his cum, occasionally dropping down his arm as he stepped through his building. He fucked her well and planned to put her to sleep.

“Gonna wake up like a princess tomorrow morning, Bub,”

[foli-vora]

once again in your arms

joel miller x f!reader

A/N: mwahah, hello boys i’m baaack (10 points to whoever knows what movie that quote's from). took an unexpected break coz life, but i’m ready to get back on track. this was requested by a beautiful anon a while back (sorry for the wait angel), but i hope you enjoy! x

Request: hello! so this is kinda angsty: joel and the reader are married and have a baby (plus sarah, obviously). the day of the outbreak, reader and baby were in town and she couldnt call joel (or viceversa) cause the phone lines were down. they were separated for a few years until they arrives at the quarantine zone he's in, and he recognizes them in the crowd.

Word count: 4.5k-ish

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, birth and having a baby, domestic fluff, angst, pre and post outbreak, some spoilery things if you haven’t seen the show yet, heartbreak, loss of a child, apocalypse things, i sweat at the idea of caring for a baby during the end of the world, soft reunions, fluff, cameos of my fave oc’s made in a different series

It’s a fact you had learnt in the very early days of your relationship... the Miller men knew how to care for a lady. Whether it was Tommy sliding in to open the door for you before you could reach for the handle, or Joel draping you in blankets and taking on the responsibility of keeping your hot water bottle warm to fend off cramps for the evening, not a moment went by when you didn’t feel the constant reassurance of their care.

Especially now, fresh from the hospital and tender from your days of excruciating pain and an extensively long labour, Tommy quickly slaps the pillows into something plusher, hands gentle as they guide you down until you’re reclining into the armchair.

Joel keeps an eye on you from across the room, the brief wash of concern slipping away with the easy smile that grows along his lips when your eyes meet.

He rocks the wrapped bundle in his arms softly, a big hand dwarfing the small head that peaks from the blankets. His fingers brush through the light smattering of hair peeking out from the cotton burrito, his index running along the tiny peak of a nose and you feel your heart swell in your chest.

“Dad,” Sarah whines with an eager smile, shifting restlessly on the couch, “come on, I’ve been waiting all weekend.”

“Oh my god,” Joel drawls sarcastically, “all weekend? Baby girl, how are you survivin’ right now?”

“Shut up,” her grin widens, “give me my baby brother before I explode.”

“Well, we don’t want that mess all in the livin’ room,” Joel quips, stepping over your weekend bags tossed on the floor and closer to the couch, “ain’t treadin’ your brain all into the rug—thing was damn expensive.”

Sarah shrugs, readjusting her body to sit straighter and holding her arms out expectantly, “Least I have a brain.”

Tommy snorts in amusement, grinning at his brother's expense, “That’s true.”

“Are you still here?” Joel side eyes him, barely fighting the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

They bicker, throwing their little snippy sibling comments back and forth before Sarah clears her throat, her eyebrows rising in impatience.

“Alright, alright. Here, watch his head,” Joel instructs gently, a smile playing along his lips, “that’s it, baby, you got him.”

It’s a beautiful picture, Sarah carefully bringing the baby closer and tucking him carefully into her arms, and the sentiment is shared with Tommy as the flash and click of a camera goes off. He removes the polaroid sliding from the slot and sits it on the coffee table to develop before instructing Joel to slide in next to her and smile.

Both Joel and Sarah are oblivious to his instruction, lost in the bubble that has overcome them. You find peace watching them, warmth spreading along your limbs by the sweet tenderness of it all. The love is clear between the three of them cuddled on the couch, and it’s almost too much for your heart to bear.

Sarah beams down at her baby brother, cooing soft words and stroking a gentle finger down Matthew’s cheek. Joel throws an arm to rest on the top of the couch behind Sarah, turning into her and answering her questions quietly.

8 pounds, 3 ounces. Smaller than you. No, he didn’t cry at all—gave me and the docs a damn heart attack. She sure did a great job. 

Your Joel was never a man to wear his heart on his sleeve, but the emotion shines from his eyes, bleeds through the lines in his face and it’s enough to bring tears building along your lash line.

“You okay over there?”

His familiar drawl brings your attention to him, and you smile at him, tired and fully at peace. It’s bliss, despite the ache of birth still hanging in your limbs. M

“I’m fine,” you respond quietly, lids heavy with exhaustion, “I’m just so happy.”

He fucking beams. His grin creases his cheeks and he nods softly.

“Me too, honey,” he mutters, turning his attention back to his children and playing with a strand of Sarah’s hair as he gazes down at Matthew, “me too.”

—

Four months later.

Chaos.

Matthew wails against your chest, the deafening sounds of screams, bullets, sirens and explosions setting him off into hysterics. Your arms tighten around him, keeping his face tucked closely into your throat so your scent could hopefully provide him some reassurance.

You crouch beside cars, you run until your legs ache. You take cover in stores, the soles of your shoes crunching over broken glass of the shattered windows. Every phone you try gives nothing but a dull tone. Radios are filled with static and emergency broadcasts play on the view screens you run past in your effort to escape whatever the hell is happening.

Worry stirs along the edges of your mind. Is Joel okay? Sarah? Tommy? You can’t call him, you can only run and hope nothing takes you down in your effort to get back to your car. You pass people crouched over others, blood smearing along their lips as they tear unforgivingly into the flesh of another.

It’s a nightmare, and it’s everywhere you look.

Almost there.

You see the sign of the parking lot and it only makes you run that much faster, even though your legs threaten to give out at any minute. You pass an elderly man crouching beside a woman, blood flowing from the open gash on her throat, and the ache clutching your heart only increases when his pleas reach your ears over the mayhem.

“Gloria,” he mutters in an aged rasp, “up you get, love. You’re alright, come on now—”

You can’t help it.

Somewhere in your mind you can feel Joel screaming at you to keep running, to get yourself to safety and not give a damn about anyone other than Matthew, but the image of this man cradling his wife’s wrinkled, bloodied hand is enough to get you advancing to him before anyone could hurt him. 

“Sir—”

He ignores you, too busy with brushing the woman’s blood soaked white hair from her face.

“Sir, we have to move—”

You wrap your fingers around his shoulder and shake firmly. His head gives a shake of denial as he clutches his wife’s hand tighter.

“No… no, she’ll need help—she has a bad ankle.”

Shifting Matthew unsteadily onto your hip, your fingers wrap under his arm and tug him onto his feet. He fights you, bats your hold away with an infuriated expression at your rough handling of him.

“I’m so sorry, but she’s gone—we have to run. I—I have a car, please… just come with me, please!”

“I won’t leave her—”

“Please… they’re coming! I—would she want this for you? To die like this?”

He blinks, his frown softening ever so slightly before screams pierce the air, much closer than you anticipated, and terror claws up your throat until you feel you’ll vomit.

You hold out a hand, relieved when his own rough, calloused hand finally takes it, and then you’re running, albeit slower than before, but you make it to your car with no issues.

You dive into the driver's seat, passing Matthew over to the stranger when he makes an impatient gesture to hold him and then you’re tearing out of the lot, running down the few rabid looking beings that advance on you with bloodied expressions of hunger.

You don’t think you take a proper breath until you’re past a military barricade that had seemingly been destroyed in the attack, flying down the highway and around other panicked drivers with sweat slicking your skin. 

Taking a deep breath to slow the brutal pounding of your heart, you look at Matthew, now calmed and looking up at the stranger with an obvious shine of curiosity. The old man is clearly softened by the baby, letting his small hand wrap around his finger and wiggling it playfully in his hold.

“That’s Matthew,” you mutter shakily, meeting the eyes of the elderly man before gazing back out the windscreen. You take another breath before giving your own name, tears biting at your eyes when you utter the name Miller.

Do you still have a husband? A step daughter? A brother in law? The unknown scares you, outright fucking terrifies you. 

The man nods in your peripheral vision.

“Harold,” he finally says, voice rough and tired.

—

There are people everywhere, screaming, crying.

People run, shout, wail over family and friends.

Tears have long dried on his face, his head thumping relentlessly with the remnants of his heartbreak. Tommy’s grip is firm on him, tugging him out of the way of people tearing down in their direction, pulling him to where a makeshift table is thrust under a tent as a reception of sorts.

He doesn’t care about the people already there asking about their family and friends. He shoves them out of the way, hands shaking as they clutch the edge of the weak table.

“I’m lookin’ for a woman… she’d be with a baby boy, not even four months old—”

His voice shakes. He can’t get it to stop. He struggles to get out the detailed descriptions of you both down to the clothes you were wearing, speaking your names through trembling lips. His stomach jolts at the thought of you somewhere, lying helplessly on the floor with your flesh getting torn into while Matthew screams in his car seat.

He’s a damn baby. He wouldn’t know what’s happening, wouldn’t know why his mama’s not there with him—

The woman gives a small expression of sympathy over the thin surgical mask covering her mouth, “I’m sorry, sir. We’ve had no babies that young come through, and nothing like that has come in over the radios.”

He retches. 

His body heaves, almost as if it’s rejecting the mere idea that you weren’t somewhere safe waiting for him. He had failed. Failed to keep Sarah safe, failed to keep Matthew safe, you—the vows he had made now meant shit. He hadn’t been there for better or worse. He’d hadn’t done what a father should have and kept his kids free from harm.

Sarah had died, terrified and in agony, in his hold. Her bloodied handprints remain dry and caked on his arms. Matthew had died, not even making it to six months. A baby, still fresh to the world, only just able to hold his own head up. You had died, not knowing where he and Sarah were, if they were even safe.

Tommy hauls him to a close trash can, rubbing a firm hand up and down his back as he chokes on vomit, tears soon streaming down his cheeks when his body eventually has nothing left to give. His heart hammers in his chest, thundering against his ribs and filling his ears until he’s unaware of the noises around him. 

“They’re gone,” he whispers hoarsely, clutching at the rim of the trash can in an effort to keep himself up.

“Now we don’t know that—”

“God damn it, Tommy, you saw what it was like out there!” 

Tommy sighs, his own eyes filling with tears. “We gotta keep hope, Joel—”

“Hope?” Joel spits at his brother, “What good is hope against that shit out there? She would’ve been alone, you know as well as I Matthew only would’ve slowed her down. They were in the city. We couldn’t even keep safe out here! They’re—they’re gone. My wife… my baby boy, my baby girl—”

The sobs tear from his chest, harsh and painful. He mourns for hours, unseeing of the flurried movement still happening around him, his sorrow mixing with the flood of agony filling the makeshift safe zone with every new unhurt civilian looking for someone familiar.

Tommy doesn’t take his arms away from around his brother until dawn starts to pierce the horizon, 

—

Two years later.

He still fills your thoughts daily.

Your life, your old life, would flash behind your eyelids at night when sleep would finally claim you. You’d feel his touch, kiss his lips, touch his face. It all felt so normal. The dreams would be nothing but memories, and somehow, it made them feel more like nightmares.

Mornings making breakfast with Sarah, dancing to the music falling from the radio. Family game nights, watching Tommy and Joel get more and more competitive with each game. Grocery shopping with Joel, simply wandering down the aisles and relishing in his comforting touch warming your lower back. 

You could never quite make peace with the possibility that he was dead. It didn’t sit right. The idea that your Joel had been lost to the disaster that had claimed the world just seemed impossible. Your heart rejected the notion, refused to accept that its counterpart wasn’t somewhere out there, living, breathing, surviving,

Sarah and Tommy, too.

They had to be somewhere, holed up safely and keeping well. They had to.

“They’ve established a quarantine zone close by,” you say quietly, mindful of Matthew sleeping on your lap, “it’ll be a lot safer there than out here. I think we should give it a go… find a more secure place to live. I’ve heard they have work available, good flow of food and medicine…”

Harry snorts quietly, shifting under his old, thick jacket, “That doesn’t mean they’re happy giving it out. There’ll be a catch somewhere.”

You eye the long carved frown in his features and lean forward to fix the blanket covering his tired legs, “Don’t you think we should try at least?”

“Maybe they’ll put a bullet in me,” Harry grumbles moodily, “I’m old—I can’t work like they’ll want me to. Although, it’ll beat living through this bloody nightmare any longer.”

“Harold,” you chide softly, heart aching at the thought of losing the grumpy old man after spending so long by his side.

He’d quickly become a grandfather figure of sorts, to both you and Matthew. The little boy was obsessed with him, and had been since the day you had come together, and though he tried to hide it behind his usual icy facade, Harry was smitten, weak from the boy learning to call him pa.

“He’ll be safer in there,” Harry finally grumbles, gazing at the sleeping toddler. “This is no life for him out here. It’s getting worse and worse. Stability will do him good.”

“And you’ll come with us?”

He sighs sharply, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine—I’ll come. But if they don’t kill me, I’ll be bloody upset with you.”

You snort in amusement, a grin curling your lips. “Fair enough. Now drink your soup.”

“I’m not hungry. You have it.”

He shoves it away, pushing it in your direction, as he usually does. It’s a daily fight—him refusing food in favour of giving you and Matthew more, ensuring you both never went hungry despite his own hunger and rapid weight loss due to the sudden lack of food.

You give him a playful frown and hold the small cup out to him.

“Don’t make me force feed you, old man, drink it.”

—

The walls of the Quarantine Zone are a lot more daunting than you had originally thought they would be. They tower high, and the barely there movement of soldiers along the front and top of it have nerves start to build in the pit of your stomach.

Maybe this isn’t a good idea. Surely they wouldn’t shoot without asking questions? Would they even give you a chance? What happens to you if the zone is full? Would they let you go on your merry little way?

God, you feel sick. 

The ice creeping along your skin doubles, and you tighten your grip on the baby carrier strapped to your chest. Matthew hums quietly against your back, his little fingers tracing random patterns along your shirt as he bounces with your each step. Harry walks somewhat steadily beside you, his cheeks reddening with the more distance you cover.

He gives you a reassuring nod when you look to him for guidance, and you continue forward, swallowing the lump building in your throat when you become aware of them yelling about your presence.

Their guns are raised when you eventually make it closer, and it’s automatic to throw your hands up in surrender.

“We’re not infected!” you shout, hoping they’d listen. 

A soldier steps forward. “On the ground, now!”

“Shit. Okay! Please, I—we’re not infected—”

“Get. On. The. Ground!”

“I have a kid! I have a—please, we’re not—”

“Get the kid out.”

Panic flares to life in your chest. You fight the tremble in your fingers as they raise to the clip across your chest, winding a supportive hand around to your back to keep Matthew from falling out of the carrier as it loosens from your torso.

After a bit of shifting, Matthew stands on shaky legs, his eyes darting between you and the few soldiers with their weapons raised.

“It’s okay, baby,” you soothe softly, “we gotta do what the man says, okay? Can you do that for mama?”

You continue to lower until your front hits the rubble covered ground, and you motion for Matthew to do the same, heart breaking as he cowers in fear and falls to his knees before copying your posture and hiding his face against the road.

More voices fill your ears, the obvious presence of more soldiers swarming from the gate causing your pulse to skyrocket as Harry lowers on the other side of the small toddler.

“Check ‘em.”

“Everything’s fine,” you murmur, keeping your gaze on Matthew and smiling when he peeks at you from between his fingers, “we’re okay. Keep your eyes on me, baby. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

It stings.

You automatically flinch away from the device someone holds at your neck, freezing when more weapons are raised in your direction. The device gives a small beep and the soldier gives a loud clear, before moving for Matthew.

He cries out at the pain, his chest heaving with his growing sobs. The guns move in his direction and you’re flying towards him before you can even think, yelping when arms pull you away from your baby before you can console him. His screams worsen. 

“Please,” you beg, “he’s just a baby—!”

The soldiers remain emotionless.

Another beep, another clear.

The fingers digging into your arms loosen and then you’re free, hurriedly crawling on all fours until Matthew’s in your arms, his tear stricken face pressing into your throat. You soothe him softly, murmuring how well he did and that he’s safe with you while the soldiers move their attention to Harry.

When the device gives a final clear, another soldier steps forward, a small smile stretching his lips.

“Sorry about that,” he says, stepping forward until he’s only a step away, “but we can’t be too careful.”

It’s surreal being around people again.

For the longest time, it’s just been you, Matthew and Harry. The people left after the event had turned cruel, desperate for any remaining resources and resulting to violence left, right and centre. It’d been sheer luck that you three had escaped some of the nastier characters you’d come across during your treks. Sure, you’d lost a few supplies every now and then, but you were thankful you all were still here at least.

The man leads you into an office of sorts, with rusted old chairs to sit on while he goes about ‘registering’ you. You’re surprised at the process of it all, confused when he says you’re in luck because after this morning, there are new rooms available. What does that mean? Had something happened to the occupants?

Your stomach turns, but you dare not dwell on it.

Safety for Matthew, that’s all that matters. That’s why you’re here.

It feels like hours before you’re stepping into the sun again, lead out onto a relatively normal looking street with written directions to your new accommodation. The door bangs loudly behind you, fully closing you from the horrors of the outside world, and you try not to focus on the looks of curiosity, borderline hostility, as you start to walk further into the QZ, the height of the wall casting a large shadow over your path.

There’s a main square of sorts, filled with small stations of people selling various items. Your stomach grumbles at the sight of shitty looking food, desperate to eat something other than the random old bits and pieces you’d find through your looting, but you’d have to begin work to even afford a single half burnt bread roll. The two ration cards you had received at your ‘registration’ wouldn’t make a dent in what you’d need to afford any of it.

You pass the sellers, sharing a sullen look with Harry as he too realises he wouldn’t have enough for any of it.

There’s crowds, and you try to keep to yourself as you move, but something catches your eye, as if your sight had been automatically pulled to that direction and you’re oblivious to the people bumping into your frame.

For a moment, you’re sure you’re dreaming.

Did they end up shooting you at the gate? This couldn’t be real, couldn’t be unfolding right before your very eyes. You feel alive. You feel your pulse, your breath. You feel Matthew shift in the carrier, you hear Harry making comments about the people and the surrounding buildings.

You can’t look away.

You’re pulled in his direction, certain with every bone in your body that it’s him. It’s him.

The man turns, and his eyes are meeting yours through the crowds before you can even brace for it, and you see the moment it hits him.

He freezes, his eyes unblinking as if they don’t want to risk losing the hallucination his mind had conjured. He steps forward, and again, and again, slow in his movements, cautious.

“Joel?” You breathe, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear you over the bustle of your surroundings and the distance between you, but he must see your lips mould his name because then he’s running, ducking through the people and heading straight your way.

You start to jog, careful not to disturb the carrier holding Matthew too much, and then he’s there. He’s there and he’s real and he’s saying your name so sweetly, a broken rasp of disbelief and a tremble taking over his hands as they raise to cup your cheeks.

You sob at his touch. 

The tears flow from your eyes and you grasp at whatever you can on him, your fingers tightening around the jacket hanging from his frame as you attempt to pour two years of loss into your embrace. He cradles the back of your head, keeps your face pressed tightly against the dirtied skin of his throat as he mutters brokenly about how he thought you were dead and that he’d missed you so damn much.

“Oh baby boy,” he rumbles, noticing the baby carrier and the toddler within it with tears filling his lash line, “look at you.”

You hurriedly unclip the harness and sweep Matthew out of it, bringing him into the middle of your embrace. Joel runs a hand along Matthew’s cheek before sweeping down and kissing him on the forehead, his tears dropping over the toddler’s cheeks in obvious relief and utter joy. 

“How—”

You shake your head, nuzzling into the rough hand holding your cheek. “Later. We’ll talk later about everything, I just—god, I’ve missed you so fucking much, Joel.”

His head lowers until his forehead is pressed against yours, and his eyes flutter closed. You feel it in the simple gesture, how much he had missed you, mourned for you. He gives a small nod, followed by a quiet okay, before another presence suddenly makes themselves known.

Your body jolts with the weight hitting your side, and you jump in fright before your eyes come across a slightly skinny looking Australian Shepherd desperate for attention.

His tongue lolls from his mouth as he attempts to lap at your cheek, and you chuckle through your stream of steady flowing tears at the cheerful dog.

“Chip,” Joel grunts in slight annoyance, shoving the fluffy beast away from where he tries to jump and sniff at Matthew’s cheeks, “down—down, boy!”

“You have a dog?” You ask in curiosity, reaching out to pet the animal. Your smile widens when he eagerly nuzzles into your touch with an excited whine.

“He was wanderin’ the QZ when I came in,” Joel replies, one of his hands leaving your waist to deliver a rough rub to the dogs head, “followed me home one night and hasn’t stopped botherin’ me since. Tommy said he’d be good for me.”

“Tommy’s here? And Sarah?” You perk immediately in excitement, your eyes flying past his shoulder to look for his brother and the other part of your heart that’s been missing for years. “I’m so glad they’re alright, where are they?”

You don’t notice how considerably quiet he’s gone until you look at him. He’s defeated, guarded, his dark eyes drawn to the floor. He can’t look at you. Why can’t he look at you? What’s happened?

“Joel?”

“Sarah… she—she—”

He struggles to finish the sentence, the words stick uncomfortably on his tongue. His features twist in clear anguish and you feel the world around you shatter. Sarah, she… she’s gone? When? How?

Your heart sinks, weak and broken by the unexpected news. Your mind struggles to wrap itself around the notion that you’d never see her again, that the last time you saw her was truly the last. 

Regret begins to build in the pit of your stomach. That last day… you should’ve hugged her tighter, kissed her forehead, told her how much she meant to you and how lucky you were to be in her life—

The tears begin again.

“Oh Joel, I-I’m so sorry,”

You both share the heartache, wrapped in each other's arms and breathing in the other. His tight hold doesn’t loosen for a second, and you attempt to put every ounce of energy in your tired body into returning it.

The world stands still, just like it did that cursed day.

How can you be so elated that he’s here, and yet be filled with so much pain at the same time? How long has he been lost, no doubt blaming himself for his baby girl not making it to where he is now? You mourn her, mourn him for being lost, stuck on a path of despair and believing he had lost everything for so long.

What had become of him? What had the pain done to him? Surely it would’ve been pure torture for the man who practically breathed family. 

Harry can wait. Introductions can wait. Food, drink, sleep—you care for none of it. Not now. All that matters is that Joel is here, truly here in the flesh, wrapped in your arms and holding the child he hasn’t seen for two years. All that matters is that you had found one another in the violent hellscape the world had become.

Peace, but that tranquillity will forever be tainted by loss, a void hanging in the midst of relief, never to be filled again.

-

tag list 1: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy66, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld,

tags that have continuously not worked will be deleted from my taglist soon x

[k2ntoss]

this is from @millyhelp 's ask from the prompts thingy so babe, i hope you enjoy this!!! PLUS THIS IS QUALITY OVER ANYTHING ELSE, i should be asleep by now bc i have to take a flight tomorrow at 6am buuuuut here we are :3

milly when i catch you milly (i have been thinking about THIS since i read your request and i'm literally vibrating here in a level i cannot describe) i just i don't know what i'm doing but i hope you know i'm here sitting while thinking about jason AT WORK

when they murmur pure filth into your ear while they're touching you + smirking into a kiss/against your skin when you whimper at their touch + "you're in no position to tease baby, remember that."

jason can say he hates attending bruce's galas, they're boring and full of people he dislikes but having you as his partner makes it worth the time he spends there. the way he's able to admire you in those pretty long night dresses, your make up and hair done in a way you'd only look prettier to his eyes, it was definetely his favorite part of being out in a night he rather spend at home cuddling with you.

but what jason hates more of bruce's galas is the fact that he isn't able to be too touchy with you when you're by his side and yeah, he also hates the way you take advantage of that because such a loving girlfriend would enjoy the art of torture by teasing him all night long. he stares as you stand right next to him, your hand holding his arm as he speaks to someone and you stroke his forearm without paying much mind to anything else, jason feels your touch a bit more than what he should and it only drives him insane when it comes together with the way you stare up at him as he speaks, if only he could push you to your knees and get you to look up at him while you gag around his cock...

"sweetheart, i'm gonna go get a drink, i'll be right back" you say with a small smile, your hand suddenly bringing him back from his thoughts when you subtly graze his chest with your fingertips, making a soft trail to his stomach and he only nods, his lips parted and his mind running wild once again.

you make your way to the expensive bar, thinking about any tasty drink that will help you feel more comfortable around all the rich and empty individuals around the room so as soon as you're able to ask for a drink the bartender gives you what could have been seen as a gentle smile but truth be told, jason knew better and yeah, he was looking from where you left him because there's no way he'd let his girlfriend all alone and unprotected.

he's able to see the man hand you a glass filled with clear liquor and he holds himself to interrupt you or to make you uncomfortable, he knows you don't try to make any deep conversation with that guy but he, on the other hand leans against the bar and talks to you with a wide grin almost as if he thought he made a great and succesful attempt on getting your attention and that's enough to make him smirk proudly, jason knows he's the only one that knows how to get your attention in a way you do enjoy it.

what's unexpected for him comes right after you notice his eyes on your back and look at him from over your shoulder, giving him a soft smile before turning back to actually chuckle to something that guy was telling you and now, that's weird because he swears that right before you looked back at him you seemed to be really bored about anything you were hearing. jason is able to see, still from across the room how you sit on one of those high stools, the slit of your dress letting your thigh a little more exposed than before and the way you lean forward allows you to be a bit closer to a man that wasn't him.

he has no idea where he should look, your waist seems to call him just so he can place his hand over it and squeeze it in a possessive way, your legs look lile he could make them wrap around his hips as he pounds into you and he has no idea what's gotten into him, it's a mix of jealousy because someone else has your attention and the way your body looks so good it makes jason want to devour you whole.

his need grows worse when you switch from the short vodka and sprite glass to a tall one with whisky and the way you mindlessly stroke the side of it with your fingertips has him almost growling and he decides it's been already enough when the bartender reaches to the pocket of his black blazer and slides his phone over the bar, clearly jason doesn't know that you're just about to type in the phone number of one of your friends that needed a bartender for the new bar he wanted to open and he clearly wasn't even thinking about it, instead he just allowed himself to walk his way until he reached your side, leaning in and pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder when he stood next to you "thought you were going to come back, princess" he says and there's a ever so slight tint of jealousy on his words.

"oh yeah, i got a little distracted here" you start before taking a short sip from your glass just to offer him an innocent smile "do you remember that bar a friend of mine wanted to open? i was telling him they wanted a bartender and i was about to give him leo's number" and he nodded, the bartender suddenly not looking so flirty with you when your big ass boyfriend was looking at him as if he was about to rip his head off his shoulders.

"yeah? think i have his card so no need to bother," jason tells you, his hand going into his pocket to reach for the nice wallet he used to keep cards and some other important stuff, taking out what he wanted and sliding the card across the bar "here. give them a call but i think they already found someone." he says with a subtle scowl before looking back at you. and as soon as his eyes met yours realization fell upon your boyfriend, that glint of pure mischief and joyful mockery was all he needed to know that this was just another part of your tease game.

"think we can talk somewhere else, baby?" he asks as he leans in to whisper into your ear "don't you think i don't know what you're doing, love." then jason mutters before leaving a soft kiss on your temple as his hand snakes over your side to hold your waist and pull you out of the stool just to walk you out of the room filled with people. it was a short walk across a few hallways before he opened a door that led to a bathroom, the marble counter and the tall roof another proof of how expensive the place was but you had not so much time to actually take in every other detail of the nice bathroom because you felt now both of jason's hands holding your hips and walking you until you were in front of the mirror.

"jay? what's that you need to tell me?" you ask him in a soft tone, sounding innocent as your boyfriend towered over you, his hands now resting on your hips as he looked at you through your reflection.

"how do you manage to look so heavenly, ma?" he sounds really sweet, unbothered as if your efforts weren't enough to make him act feral and that was strange to say the least "this is a good thing about this stupid events, being able to admire my girl looking so good." and still there's still a slight tint of possessiveness slipping into his words

"i don't know what you're talking about, baby" you'd answer, cheeks red and a sweet giggle escaping your lips as your own hands rest over his and anyone could see and say that this was just another wholesome moment between a young couple in love but jason had other plans in mind "but i think we're missing the whole thing"

your word fall on deaf ears when his hands start to stroke your hips, the silky and thin fabric allows jason to feel your bare skin right under your dress and it draws a deep hum out of his throat at the same time he leans to kiss that spot between your shoulder and neck "you know what i don't like about this galas? the fact that every other idiot is able to see my girl looking so damn good and what's worse, is that some of them think they have a chance with you."

his hands lower until you feel how the fabric slides upwards, causing you to shiver when jason's fingers caress your thigh under the slit of the dress while he keeps his gaze on yours through the mirror. he loves the way you look with him, how your body reacts to his every touch and yeah, anyone could say that jason todd is a bit possessive but you wouldn't blame him. the possessiveness on his touch came alomg with pure need, not only lust or dominance but with extreme adoration because you were the most precious thing on his life and he wasn't up to let go of you. not now, not ever.

"i don't know what you're talking about..." this time there's a small grin pulling at the edges of your lips, you do know what he's talking about and honestly, you adore when he wants to claim your attention from himself "but i was having a nice time chatting with my new friend" that part sets off a new jolt of jealousy and also it breaks the already thin string of patience jason has when it comes to your teasing.

"a nice time... were you? i think that you know exactly what i'm talking about, angel," jason utters right as his lips brush against the skin of your neck, he presses a lingering and firm kiss before his hand squeezes your thigh "all that mischief in your pretty eyes, the way you walk making your dress move in a way it only hugs your curves, do you think i can't see it?"

the way his voice grows deeper indicates what he has in mind and that's what you've been trying to get by touching him and putting a subtle show just for your boyfriend to grow insane with need. his gaze parts from your eyes to follow the path his own hands make as he starts to pull up the fabric of your dress, lips making a trail of short kisses that make you close your eyes and let your head drop to give him more room.

"you love attention, that much i can tell," he murmurs into your ear and as soon as he sees how you try to reach for him he shakes his head "no. hands on the counter and keep them there, be a good girl and do as you're told." he says, the comand on his tone sets you in automatic, pressing your hands against the black marble and seeing you being so obedient makes jason grin wickedly.

he had you right where he wanted you.

there's a low and rumbling chuckle that escapes him as soon as he is able to touch your bare hip, feeling proud of the fact that he knew you wouldn't be wearing any underwear with the silky dress that you were using. he loves that, being able to slide his hands under your clothes to touch you and feel you shiver before you start to grind against his fingers without a second thought. the feeling of knowing how much you wanted him and how good he was able to make you feel, it was only him that could do so.

"what a pretty surprise," jason says, one of his hands holding part of your dress up over your waist as the other one went to grip at your ass before letting a harsh slap fall over it that drags a soft yelp out of you "aren't you such a good girl? wearing anything underneath your dress to allow me to have easy access to this pretty pussy of yours" he says in a deep tone as his hand moves again, this time running over your inner thigh to squeeze it.

"jay... anyone could come in..." your words are soft, almost a whisper as jason's hand makes its way a bit further until he's able to graze your clit with his fingertips, making you press your lips in a fine line to hold back the soft moan that forms on your throat as you try to wiggle your hips to get a little more of his touch.

"no one is gonna come in, ma" he whispers into your ear, his arm now around your waist to hold the fabric in place as well as to prevent you from moving "now be a good little doll and spread your legs for me." jason says right before he bites your earlobe softly.

and you do as he says, allowing him to slip his fingers over your cunt in a slow and torturing pace, you can feel the rough skin and the way he seems to know exactly how to touch you to get you wet without doing so much. he keeps that touch, fingers teasingly tapping on your slit before he playfully spreads your lips as he kisses your shoulder with a shit eating smirk whenever you whimper and try to buck your hips to get him to touch you more.

"you don't like it when i tease you like this, baby? you seemed to be having so much fun when you were doing the same to me," he almost grunts as his hand pulls away from you, the pout on your lips and how you seem to wanna cry makes him laugh "you had no trouble to look up at me with those pretty 'fuck me' eyes you use when you're choking on my cock like a little whore."

he needs no other thing really to make you moan, jason knows what to do to get you going and he loves to start by teasing you. leaning in to whisper his every word to your ears and calling you all sort of names, his hands holding your body as he presses himself against your ass, letting you feel his hard cock though the fabric of his dressing pants.

"i wasn't doing that!" you protest, lying to him right to his face just to get what you wanted. pushing his buttons and jason would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying this little game.

"oh weren't you now? you know damn well you were teasing me, since we arrived you can't stop swaying your pretty ass to make me drag you away just so i can pin you down to fuck you." he says, the same low tone as he talks and his hand moves, going up and hovering over your chest and throat until he reaches your face to hold your cheeks briefly, then letting go to slip his thumb between your lips "such a needy little thing, begging to be used without an ounce of shame like the slut she is"

a muffled moan escapes you, eyes closed shut when jason pushes his digit against your tongue and moves it back and forth as you suck it obediently but he stops and pulls away when he feels you rock your hips against him, your ass rubbing his bulge and making him groan right about to give up the small punishment just to bury himself deep inside you.

"stop moving. you're in no position to tease baby, remember that." jason says, this time his voice sounds a little more stern and his gaze is fixed back on yours "you want it so bad, don't you? want me to use you right here like a little toy for me to abuse whenever and wherever i want."

his hand goes back to your thighs, this time he holds one and squeezes it in a motion that made you lift your leg, allowing jason to make you bend it and hold yourself with your knee pressed to the counter. keeping you spread like that for him he lets a playful pat fall right between your legs, causing you to whimper in need, wanting to grind on his dick until he couldn't resist the urge to actually fuck your needy hole.

"c'mon... i really need you, jay" you moan as soon as his fingers stroke again your cunt, slipping between your folds he smirks when your slick covers his digits creating soft wet sounds as he traces circles on your clit before doing the same around your entrance "need you to fuck me, please, ruin me."

"don't think you deserve so, baby," he coos you mockingly, his middle finger pushing teasingly against you but not sliding in to allow to feel him into you "why don't you pull your dress down, mhm? let me see those pretty tits of yours, put on a show for me."

it makes you shiver, the idea of exposing yourself for him as he's practically punishing you is something new because jason has never asked you to do so while keeping your clothes on, lets not say in a public space but it was a turn on when he looked down at you with predatory eyes as you spilled your breasts out of your dress, the thin straps now hanging loose on your arms as he pressed his chest to your back and made a thrusting motion against your ass.

"the things you'd do for me to stretch your pussy, to be fucked dumb until you are nothing but a cock-drunk slut" he growls against your ear and the whiny moan you let out makes him grin widely as he kisses and nibbles at the nape of your neck "here, hold your dress for me, sweetheart"

and he nods when your hands hold now your dress, his hands guiding you to make you bend slightly. jason looks hungrily at your exposed body, the way you look so vulnerable when he took advantage of it made it so hard to resist his urges but he knew that as soon as you both arrived home he'd be able to fuck you into a mindless puddle.

"you adore doing this, don't ya, ma?" he asks, one of his hands slides down your back. caressing your spine and to your ass until he reaches your core, a sharp slap falls right there and the whine you let out only fuels jason "teasing me just so you can get attention, you love to get me jealous just for me to end up letting you know how i'm the only one that will make you feel so good"

his fingers are stroking you again but this time he isn't as delicate or slow as before, his hand grinds against your cunt and he pinches your clit a few times to make you moan even louder. the wet sounds his palm makes while he plays with your slick are only hushed by your whimpers, his other hand now groping your breasts.

"it's adorable how you try to get me to use you just to be edged, to be teased like every dirty slut deserves" jason growls behind your ear and this time he pushes two fingers inside you, moving them at a fast pace without really paying mind to the way your legs tremble because he is also teasing your nipples "all of this effort just to get your pussy played with, not even getting to feel my cock inside your greedy cunt."

"jay please... don't do this to me" you cry, the torture continues because jason touches your sweet spot a few times by curling his fingers but stops when you clench around him, trying to move and fuck yourself with his fingers but the gaze he gives you is enough to stop it.

"i'm sorry, princess, that's all you'll get now" jason whispers, a satisfied smirk and a kiss on your temple as he takes his fingers out of you before stepping back "you should fix your dress again, baby, you can't go out with it all pulled up."

that's what you got, jason is now looking at your reflex as he leans back against a wall and he licks his fingers clean before giving you a lovely smile.

maybe, just maybe, you were in no position to tease after all.

[ellecdc]

Hii L!! I don't know if requests are still open but I really like how you write whimsical!reader and I've been thinking about it a lot lately. is it possible to write a whimsical!reader with Regulus that's centered outside of the AMWAP universe? Thank u smmm

-spokenfolk

they'd be so cute fr. thanks for requesting 🫶

Regulus Black x whimsical!reader (gender not specified)

Regulus knew he shouldn’t be surprised to find you out here – but his heart thumped in relief when he finally made out your form standing ankle deep in the Black Lake with your face pointed towards the stars above. 

Most people would begin to panic, finding their partner standing in a body of water in the middle of the night all alone. But this was just the kind of thing one learned to expect when dating you.

Expect the unexpected.

“You’re going to have to find a better hiding spot, my love.” He called out to you from the dry edge of the shore. You never spooked at the suddenness of his voice, proving you’d somehow sensed his presence prior to him alerting you of it. 

Though he couldn’t see your face, he could tell you were smiling.

“I wasn’t hiding, Regulus.” You said as if he were being particularly ridiculous. As if he hadn't just spent the better part of an hour looking around the castle for you.

He smiled all too adoringly at your back even though you couldn’t see him. “Could have fooled me.”

You turned at that, offering Regulus a kind smile. Regulus guesses you would be incapable of smiling any other way. “I hope I didn’t worry you terribly.” 

Regulus felt his heart squeeze at the sentiment. He’d likely worry about you for the rest of his life if he were to be quite honest. He’d be happy to do so, however.

“What are you up to, tonight?” He asked instead of answering you.

You turned your smile back towards the sky; Regulus mourned the loss of it. “Recharging.”

He hummed in acknowledgment as if what you just said made any sense at all to him. “Do you think you’ll be much longer?”

You chuckled at him and turned your entire body to face the shore instead. “You cannot rush this Regulus. Why don’t you join me?” You said, opening your arms widely.

Regulus hated to admit how inviting your embrace seemed to him, even at the expense of soaking his pant legs. He held strong, however. 

“I quite like the view from here, thank you.”

You let your arms fall to your sides, but your smile never wavered. 

“It’s very good for your inner vibrations, Regulus. The moon has been charging these waters all month. Tonight is the new moon, so you must recharge tonight, otherwise you’ll be waiting another month to try again.”

Regulus was sure you were trying your hardest to sound stern, but your voice only echoed across the waters like the gentle song of a siren calling him to his watery grave.

And who was he to deny that call?

“Oh, if you insist.” He spoke into the night, not at all begrudgingly removing his shoes and socks before rolling his pant legs up as far as they would go to join you in the lake.

The wattage of your smile rivaled that of the moon not currently present in the sky, acting as a beacon guiding Regulus towards you. 

You spun in your place to once again point your face to the sky while Regulus slotted himself in behind you and wrapped you in his arms, pushing his face into the crook of your neck. 

“You’re supposed to face the stars, Reggie.” You whispered to him.

Regulus hummed into your neck. “Who says I’m not?”

You chuckled, patting Regulus’ hands from their place on your stomach as you allowed him to rock you back and forth gently.

“You’re silly.” You admonished. 

The two of you stood in the water, swaying placidly as if you were being pushed ashore by the meager waves this Lake produced, enjoying the quiet and each other’s company.

“Doesn’t this feel wonderful, Regulus?”

Sitting in the quiet night, alone, with you in his embrace? Yes; Regulus thought this felt very wonderful. 

[crosshairlovebot]

you good? / crosshair x gn!reader

pairing: crosshair x gn!reader (no y/n). reader has a nickname.

description: crosshair returns to you on shore leave to find you unwell, so he takes care of you.

word count: 2,521

needed to write a crosshair version of the hunter one i did. i love him so much i can't even talk about it properly. hope this brings comfort to anyone who's reading and sick. you deserve a gentle crosshair looking after you.

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated.

Crosshair had intended to use his unexpected shore leave to surprise you. To knock on your door and see you light up at the sight of him. That feeling always made him warm inside, to see you happy that he was standing in front of you. He relished in the feel of your arms being thrown around his shoulders and wrapping him tightly. He could live inside your arms if the galaxy let him. His chest would expand with contentment when you would gush about how happy you were to see him, knowing that happiness was not only in response to no longer being alone in your cold, quiet Coruscanti apartment, but also the knowledge that he was okay, and safe, and alive in a war that only seemed to become more endless as the fighting went on.

Crosshair would let you fuss over him, give him real food, let him have a warm shower before you would both fall into bed together, wrapped in each other’s arms – feeling like he had never left. It was easy to pretend he was just a man when he was alone with you. To get lost in the normalcy of sharing a home. You’d both play pretend for as long as you could before the inevitable end of his all too brief shore leave would sneak up on you both, and he would be shipped out again, for who knew how long with only infrequent comms for both your comforts. 

He had been looking forward to the familiar routine of his shore leave, to seeing your entire body lift once you opened the door to him, but those hopes were dashed when he knocked on the door and you opened it, blanket wrapped around your shoulders like a cloak, sniffly and half-closed eyes.

“Crosshair,” you croaked, excitement clear in your voice before you began coughing into your blanket. “You’re home.”

“Ca’tra,” Crosshair breathed as he took in the sight of you, concern immediately spiking inside him. “You’re sick.”

“It’s nothing,” you brushed off, sniffling and stepping aside so Crosshair could enter the apartment. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“It’s not nothing,” Crosshair scolded as he watched you press the close button on the door and shuffle into your tiny living room without even hugging him like you usually do.

You had made a bed on the couch, full of pillows and other blankets. The holo was on and playing some movie he didn’t recognise. You sat down, making a sound that made it sound like walking and standing had been a big effort for you. He shrugged off his pack and placed it by the door before he moved to crouch in front of you, hands on your knees.

“How long?” he asked, looking at you.

You tried breathing in, but your nose was blocked. “Was feeling a little off yesterday but woke up today feeling much worse.”

Crosshair stood up and he watched your neck crane up to follow his gaze. He placed one hand under your chin and the back of the other against your forehead. You were warm, but not feverish. With the coughing and sneezing, it must just be a bad cold. He knew you didn’t take much time to relax, usually opting to keep busy to distract yourself from his absence. He guessed it was all catching up with you, the exhaustion manifesting itself into sickness.

“Have you been to a med droid?” Crosshair smoothed a hand over your hair in a gesture so soft, that on a regular day, he would’ve watched you close your eyes and smile in response. Instead, you barely reacted before pulling away gently.

You were more unwell than you were letting on.

“Too expensive. Too much effort,” you coughed before letting yourself fall on your side, head hitting one of the many pillows as you groaned.

Crosshair watched you, crease in his brow. He sat down on the caf table, elbows on his knees. “Tell me what hurts.”

You huffed and curled yourself into a ball. “Throat. Head. I’m so tired.”

Crosshair looked at an empty plate on the floor next to the couch. “Have you eaten?”

You breathed through your mouth, rubbing your nose. “Small things. Crackers. Bread. Low effort stuff.”

Crosshair let out a breath. He hated seeing you like this. He’d never been sick, since clones had been engineered to be immune to nearly all diseases, but to not feel like yourself didn’t seem like something he would enjoy.

Crosshair pulled a blanket out from the many under your legs, and you frowned at him as you watched him drape it over you wordlessly. He pulled it up to your chin, the way he liked as a cadet before he bent over to tuck you in.

It wasn’t even a decision for him to take care of you during his brief shore leave, more like something he was willing to do simply because he loved you.

When you loved someone, you tried to do anything you could to make their life easier, to release them of their burdens and carry them yourself.

Crosshair would shoulder all your burdens unasked, no matter what they were. The act of caring for you wasn’t and would never be something you had to ask for. He was glad he was here, that way he knew you would be well taken care of under his watchful eyes.

Though he had become better at articulating his love for you with words, the best way for him to show how much he loved you was still with actions.

“What’re you doing?” you croaked, brows furrowed at him as he pushed the blanket around the edges of your body.

“What does it look like?” he replied tersely as he adjusted the pile of pillows you were reclining on, making sure they were supporting your head properly.

“Cross, you don’t have to take care of me,” you told him.

Crosshair only scoffed in response as he took in the rest of the living room.

It was messier than you usually kept it, with several plates and empty cups littering the floor and the caf table he sat on as well as small piles of discarded face napkins.

He started gathering up the dishes before walking them over to the sink. He hated mess, and he knew you did too, so the fact that you hadn’t at least taken the used dishes to the sink told him how sick you really were. He started rinsing them before he placed them in the small bench-top dishwasher he’d helped you pick out a few shore leaves ago.

“Cross,” you said from the couch, having made yourself sit up and ruin his perfect tuck-in job.

He couldn’t be annoyed at you, no matter how hard he tried.

Crosshair ignored you as he made his way back to the couch to gather up all the face napkins and put them in the trash.  You said his name again, this time falling into a coughing fit as your breath caught in your sore throat. He grabbed a clean cup from the cupboard and filled it with some water. He came back over to you and sat on the coffee table, holding the cup out.

“Drink,” he ordered softly.

You gave him a look like you weren’t happy with him. But he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to leave you to fend for yourself, not when he was here. It was his job to look out for the people he loved.

You wordlessly took the cup, and the bottom of it immediately went on your knee, like you lacked the strength to bring it to your lips. Crosshair sighed. You needed some proper food in you. He took the cup from you as he shuffled closer then placed his empty hand behind your head.

“Head back,” he told you. You did what you were told, and he helped you take a few sips of water. After, he ran his thumb across your lip to catch a stray drop. His hand stayed for a moment so his thumb could caress your cheek. He wished he could take this away from you.

“Cross, I’m okay,” you tried to tell him.

“No, you’re not,” he said, placing the cup next to him. “Lie down. Rest.”

“I’m not good at resting,” you grumbled.

“Too bad.”

You groaned and the strain on your throat only made you fall into another coughing fit. Crosshair gave you another sip of water before he tucked you in again, tighter this time so you wouldn’t get up.

Once he was satisfied you weren’t going to move again, he told you he’d be right back before quickly going to your bedroom. He stripped out of his armour and blacks before taking the speediest shower of his life and dressing in the spare clothes he kept here.

Now in loose pants and a threadbare short-sleeved top that smelt faintly like you, Crosshair padded barefoot into the living room again. He was relieved to see you in the same position as before, eyes closed. He watched you from the doorway for a moment and looked at how small you looked on that couch. He didn’t like the thought that if he hadn’t come home when he did, you would be suffering through this by yourself, without him to care for you.

He tried to move quietly, but your eyes cracked open once you heard him enter the room, a small smile on your lips. Crosshair returned it and came and sat back down on the caf table, facing you.

“You good?” he asked, placing the backs of his bare fingers on your cheek. You pulled a hand out from under the blanket and grabbed his, moving the backs of his fingers to your lips, kissing them gently. He smiled, warmth blooming in his chest at the simple gesture of intimacy. It’d been a long time since he felt your lips on his skin.

“Better, now that you’re here,” you told him honestly, your voice scratchy.

Crosshair smiled. He liked being here as much as you liked having him here.

“You’re all warm from the shower,” you smiled, pressing your face against his hand, holding his arm close to you.

“Been a while since I had a decent one.” The corner of his mouth tipped up. You chuckled and kissed his palm. He let you cradle his hand and arm, and he would’ve let you hold onto it forever, but he wanted to make sure you were taken care of before he wrapped himself around you.

“Hungry?” he asked. He frowned when you shook your head, nose rubbing against his wrist. “You should eat something. Even if it’s small.”

He sighed when you wrinkled your nose at the thought. He went through what he remembered from the Kaminoan training module on nat-born illnesses. “Have you taken anything?”

You nodded. “I took something a couple of hours ago when I woke up.”

“Did you eat then?”

You nodded again. He would have to be satisfied with that. Maybe he could get you to eat something when you were due to make more medication, but for now, he just wanted to let you rest. He’d try again later.

He searched your face, his mouth pressed in a line. He wished he could do something more for you, it frustrated him to not be able to fix this easily; that he had to wait it out with you. He was patient when it came to sniping, he could lie in the same position for hours before taking a shot with no difficulty. But he was not so patient when you were in pain or unwell. He felt himself scowl. It was the restless and useless feeling he hated. Crosshair never liked feeling useless.

“I feel bad,” you told him in a small voice.

Crosshair’s spine straightened in alarm. “What can I do?”

“No, I mean, I feel bad about this,” you gestured to yourself lying on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, poorly.

“You?” He couldn’t hide his surprise. “Why?”

He was just silently commiserating about how bad he felt that he couldn’t absorb your pain and experience it just so you wouldn’t have to. Why would you feel bad?

“It’s your time off,” you told him, your hold on his arm tightening. “You barely get any and now it’s ruined because I’m sick.”

Crosshair let out a breath. Is that what you thought? That your being unwell was an inconvenience to him?

He shook his head. “It’s not ruined.”

“We can’t even do anything fun. I’ve been wanting to take you to this new diner that opened a few levels up. I haven’t even been there because I wanted us to go together.”

Crosshair smiled at the thought. “There will be other times, ca'tra.”

You let out a frustrated breath. Crosshair crouched down and smoothed your hair back off your face with his free hand, and you watched him with those eyes of yours that rivalled even the most beautiful of stars. Crosshair leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on your forehead. When he pulled away, you were looking up at him with slanted brows, like he was the single most amazing thing you’d ever seen, and that made his chest tight with the kind of feeling he’d only ever read about.

Never in the entire galaxy did he think he would ever be loved the way you love him.

You yawned as Crosshair stroked your cheek softly, tenderly. “You should sleep.”

You tugged on the hand you still had gently. “Lay down with me?”

Crosshair stood up and shut the holo off before lifting up the edge of your blanket. You wordlessly shuffled over and when there was enough room, he lay down next to you. His feet dangled off the edge, his frame too long for the piece of furniture.

You wriggled around trying to find a comfortable position in the narrow space of the couch, before you finally settled to lying half on top of him, head on his chest, arm wrapped around his torso, and leg hooked around his hip.

Crosshair grunted as he adjusted his position, he predicted he would not be moving from this spot for some time. He didn’t care. He’d let you lie on him until you were back to normal, and even then.

He let out a breath as he draped the blanket over you both, tucking it around your frames. You relaxed on top of him, and there was something so comforting about having your body right next to him like this. He rubbed a hand gently up and down your back as you sighed, the breath all broken with your sore throat.

“Thanks, Cross,” you whispered. Crosshair smiled and kissed the top of your head. He didn’t need to be thanked. He’d do anything for you.

“Love you,” you murmured as your breathing became deep and even as you fell asleep. Crosshair tightened his hold on you as your heartbeat pressed into his. He loved you more.

banner art by @vimse thank you reading! i love writing soft crosshair so much :') it's literally my mission to fill the crosshair/reader tag with soft crosshair fics

🏷️ @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @moodymisty @nahoney22 @freesia-writes @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @bobaprint @crosshairsnose @jesseeka @thegalaxys-edge @chopper-base @shredderwest @leavingkamino @r2d2staser @beckbucket @pb-jellybeans @mylifeisactuallyamess @padawancat97 @littlecrowtime @jedipoodoo @ezras-left-thumb @lovelycurls @fruitsaladtree @literallydontlook @burningfieldof-clover @queencousland101 @clonethirstingisreal @skellymom @hopelessromantic727

TAGLIST FORM

[mooshs-crack-headcanons]

Hey how are ya doing? Would you write how the DMC guys (Dante, Vergil, and Nero.. V if you wanna) react to their s/o smacking their butt? Does it lead to sexy fun time? 😏 It is at any time or only in private? Is it playful or heavy handed. 🥵💦 As always if you don't feel comfortable with it don't worry about it. Have a great day Rockstar!

Hello, I've been good lately sorry this request took so long but thank you for asking it's a pleasure to see you again in my inbox!

(This work includes gender neutral!reader)

(NSFW contents under the cut)

Dante

It does take Dante surprise at first; your hand stealthily coming across to give his ass a hard slap while he was bent over the bar at the back of his shop to grab one of the more expensive bottles to celebrate a relatively hard job well done one day. Usually it's always him dealing out the teasing but when that sudden yelp buckles out of his throat and he looks at you to see you only smug with that cocky grin it definitely rattles something in him and what it rattles goes straight to his dick. He just sure hopes that you can finish this little game you started.

Next when he catches you off guard your standing at the desk on the phone with Lady, going over the details of your up coming job that would take you out of town for a few days together, elbow propped so you can rest your head on your plam while your eyes search the letter the client gave and more importantly to a certain scheming son of Sparda; your ass free and out in the open, unexpected. All he has to do is trick over for payback to resume; the sudden strike causing an embarrassing noise from you that you can just hear Lady on the other line silently question but then seemingly figuring put it's some dumb Dante's doing before continuing on asking more details of the job. Heat swells in your face as you look back at Dante who returns your intial smugness and shit eating grin, making it very clear that he's playing your game - a game you were intending to win.

Back and forth you two go; at the most unexpected points surprising each other with sudden spanks to get that interesting shades of cheeks and noises from once another just to see which one would break first; to see who couldn't take this teasing game anymore and just beg to be thrown and be used by the other.

Interestingly it's Dante to break first.

He's the one almost in fucking tears as he runts and grinds against you to the desk; cock so deep inside you he can barely keep his head on straight. His moans are so low yet so desperate as you thrust back into him your hole squeezing ever so tightly, controlling his pace, the sound of your name leaving his lips is so fucking attractive it's stupid.

And to put salt on the wound of his loss; reach around and give him one more slap that will instantly flip on a switch. Whatever pace you had? Forget it. He fights through and jackhammers even faster and harder to a point it shatters a crack somewhere on the wooden surface below you. I hope you like losing function of your voice because that's exactly how it's going to be the moment pulls out and he finishes on your stomach, leaving you breathless and reeling from all your previous highs.

When your done with after care and such and Dante places you on a bed instead of a desk, he congratulates you (sportsmanship and all, you know?) in between breathy kisses and only a few times jokingly complains about his ass hurting that you 'won too hard' and that you should 'take it easy during the rematch.'

Rematch? That word catches your interest that you can't help but question him on; it gets you a chuckle and a conniving look behind pale eyes.

"Yeah, a rematch. Though do be warned: I do got an ace up my sleeve that I don't think I'll be loosing with this time. What that be? Eh, you'll just have to find out what that'll be yourself - won't you?"

Vergil

One of two different outcomes will happen if you so happen to catch Vergil off guard with this action either depending on your surroundings. One; your in privacy and no one's around to see the light flush that spreads across his cheeks up to his ears and the surprised gasp that leaves his lips - then he'll only turn around to you and stumble through a light scolding that he could have accidentally hurt you with Yamato or worse but dropping the matter and it slowly becoming the topic of his late night thoughts about the sudden touch and the spark in him that it caused. Or two, the foolish but more slow but direct to go horny option; do it while the crew (especially his brother or Nero) is around.

Now going with the second option be fully aware that he's not going to talk to you for a few days after it, the foolishness of the act leaving him unable to talk to you (Vergil translation; he's just embarrassed and doesn't know how to directly approach you about it right away) But when he does it it's surely a surprise exactly what he does when he comes back around.

He is absolutely rough with you when he yanks your hair back in a fistful and in his smooth voice ask if you could ever so kindly repeat your words more clearly as his other hand snaps down onto your ass with that mind numbing sting as you repeat the number through bitten lips.

Yup, payback is a real charmer.

All the while he thrusts into you so deep you can even comprehend how the hell numbers work any more as you try to focus yourself but struggle to keep up with how pleasure just seeps into your whole being with each bounce to your sweet spot that's only lit a blaze with every smack of your lover's hand.

It's definitely intense; with all of his teeth marks tattooing the skin of your neck as the symphony that his Vergil's moans and growls pressed right against your ear as he takes you. And all of this just because what? You playfully spanked him in the van? Definitely were going to have to keep this one in the play book.

You can barely move any of your limbs with you're both done. Vergil holds your fucked out body in a possessive yet soft embrace as he deeply buries his face into your neck. It's nice, very nice. Though if you try to tease him in any way he'll look back up with you with a glare - but not just any glare; one where he tries his best to seem intimidating but fails and falls right through when you can clearly see with his flushed face and frown that he's just embarrassed. It's very cute, although if you're way past your limit I would advise not teasing any further. Because who knows; you might find your legs to be quickly spread apart for a fairly intense round two.

Nero

His reaction will be immediate. His face will turn completely red all the way to his ears as he turns to face you not even able to form any words - just turned on gibberish. His reaction is something you can't help find your giggling because of how red he can be to just playful teasing but unknownst to you, you just awakened a kink and it's something that keeps his dick hard and awake at night for weeks afterwards.

It becomes something he fixates on; the thought, the memory, the sudden spark of pain that twists into pleasure is just...the need and desire for you to do it again becomes to much for him. Well with Nero being Nero and his insecurities to really ask for things because he feels he can be a burden at times to deal with and his abandonment issues starts talking telling him he doesn't deserve it - if he asks for too much you'll leave him, so he doesn't tell you this new desire of his. He just keeps it to himself, just a fantasy he can get himself off too when he's alone but there becomes a point where it just swells in his chest to much and he just succumbs to it.

The laundry room in Kyrie's apartment is rather a tight fit, but that doesn't matter any once you find yourself shoved inside there and your lips smothered in kisses and moans against you as your pushed back onto the dryer.

Bites litter his flesh a bright flushed pink as you tug and pull on the abused skin as you hands work him all over, massaging and tracing over every muscle with your ears listening to the sweet music his shaky breaths let out. In a teasing sing song way you get right up in his ear as your hands travel in that certain direction. What does he want? Is the basics of the things you ask him over and over seeing every little part of his self control start to break as he bites his tongue. His cock is hard and leaking as he bucks against your sex, throbbing as he grinds into the meat of your thighs, his breath comes through in hissing gritted teeth as your fingers trail down his back to the the danger zone of his ass with small taps - his face bright red seconds before he breaks.

Spanking + praise kink = loud. Very loud. The moment he's in you, he's in to the base and the fucking moment your hand comes to clash back down this man is jack hammering into you like crazy and it will get to a point where you will absolutely have to gag him in some way before the neighbors start poking their superstitious noses into it.

Once after the first time where he's comfortable (less embarrassed) to talk about it he'll open up to you about really liking you doing this to him and encourage you in the future to go even rougher, after all with demon Sparda genes even if he's only quarter he still has at least a bit of healing factor ((grew a whole arm back)) so however hard you give him nothing you can while being human will hurt him but it's the thought and feel good sting that counts!

V

Although V may be fragile given obvious reasons, don't let that fool you. The man at the end of the day is still a part of Vergil, meaning deep down - even if his former self would rather deny, deny, and deny on the spot than admit it out loud - is a total freak when it comes to kinky shit. Yes given how flaky and easy his body could just break apart he can't go too hard that his complete counterpart can, however, he can assure you he can take a little bit so spanking shouldn't be too much should it?

It does surprise him when you come out of the blue with it though, both alone in the van while waiting for for Nero to return from his part of the job and Nico to return from repairs on the front of the van, all he did was bend over a bit to grab a drink from the small cooler when a subtle tap hit him on the ass - nothing too hard, just a tease, but it did spark his eyes wide and make him drop the green can of Virility he was holding.

When he turns around to look at you, still bent over, there's a dirty - yet subtle - sly smirk across his plump lips and with his velvety voice he reminds you:

"If you wanted my attention all you need do is ask. Or is it being a little deviant that alluring to you? I'll have to keep that in mind."

Will drop things in front of you more. After all, he's a "-fragile, delicate thing who can't keep things steady sometimes in his hands. Oops I dropped I dropped my cane, silly me." And when he goes to pick up said item he'll always over-exaggerate pick it up - he knows he doesn't have the most shapely ass in the world - his true self doesn't either - but you like looking and feeling down there so that's good enough for him to put on quite the act for your eyes to wonder and maybe you'll gather enough courage to reach out and touch him again. And you can absolutely bet if Griffon's out of his tattooed binds you will get very lovely, crassliy worded commentary, teasing, and the occasional exaggerated gag from the bird.

Once the 'games' are finally over V loves the sensation of being draped naked over your lap - no matter how big or smaller you are compared to him - he'll get comfortable either with a pillow on the bed or on the armrest of the chair you're in as you pamper him with grounded soft touches all along his body, tracing around inky tattoos, until you cup the cheeks of his ass. He'll hum and moan in approval at the touches, his breath with hitch if with a couple coated fingers you start fingering his hole and with audibly complain with shaky breath when you slip out of him. But everything will change with that first spark of contact on his ass.

V - like Vergil - isn't a man who curses very often. This will make him do so. A lot. In between spiked punched out breaths and groans that further you go will turn into whines as he looses himself in the spanks, pleasured tears creeping in the corners of his eyes as you tell him to count that he turns into a complete mess on your lap.

He loves it, really, more than he actually originally thought - at first going along with it because it was obviously something you were into and wanted and he wants nothing but to enable your desires but now... he felt small. But in a good way. Good small. Vulnerable small. Safe small. Loved small. He can easily let himself go like this. It's good. Really good.

You don't have to put at hand on any other part of him, his cock strains against your thighs so hard and so leaking you don't have to touch it to put him on edge. He can come so easily like this and will do so if you encourage it, if he can take five more you'll let him come, and he accepts the challenge - he pants like he's ran a mile, his hairs an absolute mess, and his entire normally pale body is tinted a flushed pink except for his ass which is more red from your spanks.

He begs, pleas, promising he can take it if you go harder and he's on the point of sobbing if you give it to him. He about looses his voice entirely when you give him permission to go on and come - without a hand on him his cock practically explodes as his seed paints your thighs and his entire body gives out with his weight.

His ass might be sore for the next few days but that's fine, he reminds that he has you to pamper him after all after you've spent nearly ten minutes worried post-spank that you might've taken it too far but he promises he's okay, he's stronger than what he looks, even if deep down he realistically knows that took a lot out of him. Maybe something like this should be more of a treat kind of thing? Not too often he thinks he can take something like that.

Or... maybe next time you could be the one handle the heat next time? V has some wonderful ideas how to go so about it...

If you like what you read please consider reblogging! It means the world for writers and artists!

[aces-and-angels]

IMPORTANT UPDATE FROM SHAHED:

Note : this post is a repost of @appsa update on Shahed's campaign with updated infos on the current amount of raised funds.

I am so grateful to everyone who shared and donated, i really do count it as a miracle that we were able to reach the goal at all, never mind that it happened within the deadline we set. Your support has felt like a blessing in a truly wretched time, especially after all those baseless accusations were made.

Unfortunately, as is the norm with these fundraisers, it seems that shahed has run into some problems with the bank while withdrawing the funds she raised from this campaign. Apart from the unexpected $3.5k cut gfm took from the total amount, it seems the american bank her campaign manager using to send the money will also take a tax of $2k.

This has left her short of $5,500 from getting the full amount she needs to evacuate her whole family.

And it seems because the amount the campaign initially raised is so large, the campaign manager cannot afford to officially increase the target on the gofundme campaign page itself without putting himself at risk of having his bank account and its funds frozen.

As you may know already, there are lots of roadblocks when it comes to transferring funds from western countries to countries of the global south but especially gaza right now. People having their accounts frozen for sending money to gaza and having to go through legal hassles for it is not anything new.

Shahed doesn't want to put the campaign manager, who is their family friend, at risk of legal troubles like that, especially given the hostile political climate towards palestinians in the USA right now.

So i want to make this clear:

Shahed is currently unable to increase the target on the fundraiser on the gofundme itself, but she still needs to raise another 5.5k to cover the tax cuts taken by both gfm and the banks.

The goal on the fundraiser may say $80,000 is the target but the new one we have to aim for is actually $85,500 now

She is currently at $81,525 / $85,500

Believe me when i say that no one is more disheartened by this development than shahed herself. The morning we had reached the goal of $80,000 she told me that she felt she was the happiest girl in the world, and had bought and distributed sweets to the kids at the camp she was at to celebrate despite how expensive it is in Gaza right now.

She had also begun plans to help boost other fundraisers of palestinians, so that no one would have to feel the hopelessness she felt during those months where her fundraiser had been stagnant and had already gotten started on that barely a day or two after she'd completed her campaign.

Shahed was very nervous to tell me about this, especially after this whole racist hate campaign that was led against her so recently. She does not want her and her family to be accused of lying about their torment a second time. Especially when the violence has begun to ramp up once again even after her recent displacement, she can't bear it. Frankly neither can i.

Please know that she would not increase amount again unless times were desperate.

Please do NOT punish her during this difficult time by ignoring this. We have seen time and time again how gfms from gazans have to increase their goals even after they have been reached because of various issues, so this is not unprecedented. I've said it before- the goalposts will always be changing because they are going through a genocide.

So i urge you to please be kind and show her your solidarity and urgency once again, because the deadline is still the same. The raffle still hasnt ended so please check out the link above, and partcipate.

PLEASE HELP HER REACH $85.5K WITHIN THIS WEEK. THIS CAN'T WAIT.

current total: $81,530 USD

[cobragardens]

My Favorite Good Omens Moment:

An Essay on Why It Is Cool and Rad (Part 1)

There's this moment in Good Omens that makes me cackle every time I see it and leaves me full of warmth, so here's an essay on its context and meaning, because explication and analysis are how I show love. I will try to keep my thoughts as tight as possible, but they do have a tendency to spiral outwards, and I am very stoned. Come, sistren, and get nerdy with me.

My favorite moment in the series so far occurs in 1601. To approach it we will first need an assload of context. There's a TL;DR in bold at the end of the Context if you don't fancy reading the whole assload. Key arguments are in italics and bold throughout.

David Tennant gives Crowley a very consistent facial expression every time Aziraphale says something so outlandish Crowley can't quite believe he's hearing it. It's this one:

Chronologically, we see the Eyebrows of Disbelief twice before my fave moment in 1601: once (above left) in that scene on the Garden Wall that familiarizes the audience with Crowley's face before adding the dark glasses, when Aziraphale admits he's given away his sword; once when Aziraphale tells Bildad the Shuhite that he, Aziraphale, has Fallen because he lied to the angels to save Job's children.

The Eyebows of Disbelief always signal surprise and amusement with something Aziraphale has said or done. This amusement is sometimes at Aziraphale's expense and sometimes not.

In the gifs above, Crowley is laughing because what Aziraphale has just admitted to doing is fantastic and unexpected and frankly pretty gd punk rock. He's not laughing at Aziraphale, he's laughing because he is delighted with him. The only record we have thus far of Crowley laughing at Aziraphale is this one:

Crowley laughs when Aziraphale informs him--him, a demon who has personally been through the process of Falling--that Aziraphale is Fallen and must be a demon now. As though of the two of them Aziraphale is the expert on how and under what circumstances this occurs.

And yet when Crowley sees Aziraphale's distress--not his fear of being taken to Hell, but his heartbreak and lostness over the fact that his conscience has diverged from God's stated will--Crowley stops laughing, and instead he acts very kindly towards Aziraphale. He validates the gravity of what Aziraphale has done and assures him he won't turn him in. He sits with him so Aziraphale isn't totally alone (like Crowley probably was) as he goes through the loneliest moments of his existence to that point and picks himself up newly weighted with the secret he must now bear.

And after this scene (in canon as it stands thus far), we don't see Crowley laugh at anything Aziraphale says or does again.

And he really has to work for it sometimes. We talk a lot about the things Michael Sheen is able to convey with his face in Good Omens, and absolutely rightly so; David Tennant earns a chunk of his paycheck in this regard as well. If you haven't given yourself the treat yet, rewatch the scene in Will Goldstone's magic shop in 1941 and focus on Crowley's reactions:

Tennant takes great care to show, with precision, that Crowley is expending effort not to react to Aziraphale's nervous chaos Muppetry and lack of self-awareness. Crowley is self- and socially and contextually aware enough that he knows (better than Aziraphale, at least, which is not a high bar to clear) what's cringe, what's funny, what's ridiculous, how to behave. But whenever Aziraphale crosses a boundary of normalcy, or even sanity, and there is opportunity to laugh at him, Crowley very carefully doesn't react. He doesn't interrupt him, he doesn't try to correct him, he doesn't make fun of him, he doesn't even smirk; he just watches him, as stone-faced as he can manage, no matter how bizarre Aziraphale becomes.

We should be reading this lack of reaction to Aziraphale's social and rational transgressions as powerful positive action. Go watch the Doctor Who episode "Human Nature," or literally any episode of The Inbetweeners, or read or watch Regeneration, and reflect on what it shows you about English masculinity; then consider again the depth of significance in how English- and male-coded character Crowley treats English- and male-coded character Aziraphale in an England created by an English and male-codedpresenting author based off a book written by himself and another male-presenting author. Within its context of English masculinity, Crowley's lack of reaction is not a neutral stance; it is a very fucking loud show of support.

This is not even an inference; it's stated outright in the show. Crowley himself puts it into words 422 years after my favorite moment:

You know how Crowley calls Aziraphale "angel" because the factuality of the descriptor offers him plausible deniability to any Heavenly or Infernal agents who might be listening? Remember how Crowley is a great equivocator? Crowley is equivocating here, too: he's using the cover of what Maggie and Nina will take as a disparaging joke at Aziraphale's expense in order to make a perfectly sincere statement. This is his genuine perception of one of the relationship dynamics he has with Aziraphale and how he feels about that dynamic. Crowley thinks he himself is quite witty (an accurate assessment), Crowley thinks Aziraphale isn't sufficiently self- or contextually aware to hide how strange he is and therefore frequently says and does mad things (also an accurate assessment), and Crowley is Into. That. Shit.

Okay. Now let's look at 1601.

Chronologically it's been almost 1,000 years since we last saw Aziraphale and Crowley. In 537, Aziraphale isn't willing even to consider a labor-saving working arrangement with Crowley of fucking off home out of the damp of Arthurian Wessex; but by 1601, he's worked (and met, and Arranged) with Crowley "dozens of times now," Crowley says, and Azirapahle does not correct him.

In that millienium, Aziraphale has grown to care deeply about Crowley:

In fact he may be somewhat smitten with him:

Seriously, go back and watch Aziraphale here as Crowley approaches and starts speaking to him: he doesn't start smiling until he recognizes that the person speaking to him is Crowley (but he only smiles at Crowley while Crowley's not looking at him).

And Crowley is definitely become smitten with Aziraphale:

Our man(-shaped entity) is so allergic to work he sets up a meeting to weasel, cajole, or (as it happens) cheat a coin toss to get Aziraphale to do an easy temptation for him in Edinburgh, and then in the same conversation agrees to miracle a play into success because Aziraphale gives him a single hopeful look. Crowley's got it bad.

TL;DR: The Eyebrows of Disbelief happen when Crowley is surprised and amused by something Aziraphale has said or done. Sometimes that amusement is delight with Aziraphale; sometimes it is at Aziraphale's expense. Crowley is aware of this distinction, and when his amusement is at Aziraphale's expense, he suppresses it, even when it takes some effort on his own part, and remains stocially composed. This is equivocation on his part: to Celestial/Infernal operatives lacking knowledge of the intricacies of human behavior, this non-reaction would seem like neutrality; to Aziraphale, who shares with Crowley and the audience the contextual knowledge of English masculinity's utter viciousness, this non-reaction is a profound show of support; and in the safety of support from Crowley, Aziraphale lets his weirdness blossom.

As another meta points out [link if I find it again], we also see in Aziraphale's wordless request about Hamlet and Crowley's immediate understanding of it that by 1601 Aziraphale and Crowley have developed an unspoken, coded method of communication with each other.

Now that we have all of that in mind, here's my favorite moment in Good Omens:

Ixi of Fuck Yeah Good Omens has even kindly archived a closeup of the aftermath, for Crowley, of "Buck up!" In gif 4, above, you can see that the tiny smile is an involuntary reaction that happens as Crowley's eyes widen: for a fraction of a second, he's caught off-guard. In the closeup it's easier to see that he suppresses the smile and gives a tiny shake of his head, Eyebrows of Disbelief heading for his hairline.

There are a number of things Crowley's reaction could mean and what messages it could communicate (we'll get to that in a sec), but regardless, his reaction is, unquestionably, one of surprise and suppressed amusement. This is an aspect of Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship and characters that I like very much, viz., that one of the reasons Crowley likes Aziraphale (though Aziraphale is judgy and occasionally, unintentionally, horrifyingly cruel) is that in addition to being one of the kindest and most courageous beings in existence, Aziraphale is mad as a bag of frogs. Crowley does not know what is going to come out of Aziraphale's lovely mouth next, but Crowley does know there's a good chance he will struggle to believe he's hearing it, and Crowley likes that.

That's what makes this my favorite moment. What makes this moment so cool and rad, though, is its ineffability. We know from the Eyebrows of Disbelief that Crowley is surprised and amused, but any of several things could be read in that almost imperceptible headshake. Like:

What are you doing? or

Why are you like this? or

How can you be aware that you say these things out loud and yet still say them out loud? or

How has my existence come to this? this moment of listening to such insanity?

each of which is a fair and just feeling to have/message to communicate to a man(-shaped entity) who is yelling "Buck up!" at Hamlet.

But that's only if we read Crowley's amusement as being at Aziraphale's expense. And I don't think we should. Because watch Aziraphale here:

He's doing it on purpose. He is shouting a hilariously inappropriate, 100% authentic Aziraphale-brand thing over arguably the gloomiest passage of Shakespeare's famously gloomy play--right after Crowley complains about its gloominess--and he is watching Crowley as he does it. Look at his smile! He knows he's being Deeply Uncool, and he is doing it literally right into Crowley's face.

Remember that we just talked about how by this point in the chronology Crowley and Aziraphale have learned to communicate with each other nonverbally through facial expression? So what does it mean when Aziraphale responds to Crowley's grumbling about Hamlet's gloominess by smiling his minxious Mona Lisa Aziraphale smile, looking right into Crowley's face, and yelling at Hamlet to buck up? Aziraphale, in a carefully coded, carefully Aziraphale way, is joking with Crowley. His silliness in this moment is for Crowley.

So with aaaaaaallllll of this essay in mind, what does it mean that Crowley's reaction to "Come on, Hamlet! Buck up!" is widening eyes, an involuntary twitch of his mouth toward a smile, and then, his eyebrows still showing surprise and amusement, a tiny shake of his head?

Once more, with inferences:

I do propose, y'all, on the basis of this web of evidence I submit for consideration, that what we are seeing here in my favorite moment of Good Omens is the ineffable equivalent of Aziraphale and Crowley sharing a laugh.

Crowley's amusement here isn't at Aziraphale, because Aziraphale is eliciting that amusement consciously and deliberately. Aziraphale, in good spirits and happy to see Crowley, uses his Aziraphaleness to offers Crowley not only an opportunity for amusement, but the opportunity to be in agreement with him about what in this situation is funny. They're on the same side of this joke.

And his humor lands just as he wants it to: Crowley, just for a moment, is caught off-guard, and tickled--

But remember, Crowley is worried in this scene about being surveilled ("I thought you said we'd be inconspicuous here"), and he worries about audio surveillance a lot ("Walls have ears"; "Don't say that. If my lot hear [etc.]," etc.), so he's very limited in what reactions he can show or voice. Aziraphale knows Crowley must be perceived by anyone watching or listening to disapprove of his, Aziraphale's, behavior (just as he must be perceived to disapprove vociferously of Crowley's). Both of them know this.

--so Crowley suppresses the smile almost successfully, and shakes his head at Aziraphale, minutely, to say Stop. What you're doing is working, you're close to making me laugh, and if I show how much you have just delighted me, it will blow our cover of "just an Arrangement."

I offer three final data points in advancing my argument that what we see in my favorite Good Omens moment is Aziraphale successfully attempting to joke with Crowley and Crowley recognizing that overture from Aziraphale and being momentarily surprised into a reaction of genuine delight before pulling his face back under control and indicating to Aziraphale that he must stop:

Datum 1. Nothing going on with Crowley's face in this moment is accidental. We know for sure we're not seeing David Tennant react to Michael Sheen here not only because of literally every other point of Tennant's and Sheen's performances in the show, but because Tennant is wearing opaque contacts and sunglasses under film lighting and therefore cannot be reacting to anything more compelling than a level-10-lift blur because Tennant cannot see shit. Crowley's reaction is a deliberate and careful performance choice on Tennant's part, and it's underscored by director Douglas Mackinnon's choice to film Tennant in 1/2 profile to keep Crowley's eyes visible and face readable to the audience. This reaction is supposed to be there and supposed to be meaningful.

Datum 2. The husbands in 1601 is not the only moment in Good Omens when we may be seeing an angel and a demon communicate the message Stop doing that, it makes us look too familiar between themselves with a little headshake:

Datum 3: There is another moment in Good Omens when Aziraphale offers Crowley the opportunity to enjoy a joke with him. There, too, his humor lands just as he intends, so we can use this other moment as a comparison to our 1601 moment. I don't have gifs for it, but go back and watch it, S1E6 49:27-42. Snips below.

Aziraphale says something that surprises and amuses Crowley (he asked Hell for a rubber duck while he was sloshing around in the holy water)--

--but what Aziraphale says makes Crowley smile long before it makes him laugh.

In fact, his laugh, though a genuine cackle, is quite delayed, and he laughs only after Aziraphale starts laughing too.

In other words, Crowley's reaction to Aziraphale offering him amusement they're both on the same side of is exactly the same as his reaction to "Come on, Hamlet! Buck up!" right up until he laughs instead of shaking his head. Here, after Armageddidn't, Crowley doesn't have to suppress his reaction, so he can let the smile bloom; he doesn't have to control his response, so, although it takes him a few extra seconds, he lets the smile turn into a laugh.

But in 1601, it's not safe to laugh at Aziraphale's humor. It's not safe even to smile at him. A single piece of evidence or eye/earwitness testimony that he and Crowley have anything more friendly than the most passing and acrimonious of professional relationships could mean death to either or both of them, and depending on what Falling is like, maybe something worse than death for Aziraphale.

But Aziraphale is so funny, so effervescent for Crowley, at Crowley, that it catches Crowley just for a moment. Crowley's eyes widen and the corner of his mouth twitches toward a smile.

And that's dangerous. If Aziraphale keeps acting so charmingly mad, Crowley is going to laugh, and they can't afford that risk, so he shakes his head at Aziraphale. Stop, or I won't be able to keep a straight face around you.

And Aziraphale apparently receives that message, because he immediately eases off. Less than 60 seconds later we learn that he's deeply concerned for Crowley's safety--and that it's not so much that Aziraphale has Crowley wrapped around his little finger as it is that Crowley has wrapped himself around Aziraphale's little finger like a snake arranging itself on the tree branch it calls home.

UPDATE 14/10/23: HOLY SHIT Y'ALL IT GETS EVEN BETTER! THERE IS A SEQUEL!

[makeyoumine69]

Husband!Patrick Bateman having a breeding kink | NSFW HEADCANON

Pairing: Hubby!Patrick Bateman x Shy!Fem!Reader; CW: SMUT, p in v sex, creampie, oral (f), body worship, dirty talk, praise kink, etc. Links: [MASTERLIST].

✔ Patrick Bateman would be the last person to say that parenthood was his thing, but at the same time he couldn't deny that the idea of breeding you was kind of alluring and captivating, even depraved. He always saw you as a shy little girl, and just the thought of claiming you in such an intimate way made his manhood ache. ✔ If you asked him where he preferred to cum, Patrick would always say — inside. Before you two got married, you always took birth control pills since you were not ready to have children, but right after your wedding, Bateman started asking you questions about family, because every time you ran into anyone with kids, he could see your awestruck gaze — which was too eloquent, but once again, you were too timid to tell him about trying for a baby.  ✔ Bateman didn't like anything to do with children, you knew that and respected that, until one day he came home from work to find you sitting on the couch with a glass of red wine — your favorite, the sort he would always remember.  ✔ With feline grace, Patrick approached your small and attractive frame, which had already become family to him. "What's on your mind, honey?" ✔ You would squeak at his unexpected touch, but then immediately snuggle into his big and warm palm, because you missed him so much. "Oh, I didn't even hear you coming," you would smile, closing your eyes as his thumb gently slid over your lips. "Actually, I was thinking about us..." ✔ "Us?" He repeated, and only now did you notice that he was hiding something behind his back. "I'm intrigued." ✔ Slowly, Bateman walked around the couch and sat down next to you, his expensive perfume immediately enveloping you.  ✔ "Uh, nothing serious, really," you tried to joke back, feeling the impending heat cursing through your form as the mere physical contact with his strong body made you feel so weak and small. "I was just thinking that... I'm so happy to be with you..." ✔ You could swear you just noticed his brown eyes gleaming with pure adoration at your words. "It's mutual, darling," Patrick purred, leaning down to kiss you on the lips, cupping your face and tilting it to deepen the kiss. "All day at the office," he gave you both a moment of respite. "I've been thinking about you." ✔ His lips sent you far away from here, his sturdy arms were your keep, when Bateman was around you feared nothing. When he broke the kiss, you felt something soft on your knees, and you couldn't contain your surprise when you looked down and saw a cute, plushy bear. ✔ "Oh my gosh," you grinned and hugged the toy — the sight of your childlike happiness made Bateman's heart flutter. "This is so adorable. Thank you, Patrick." ✔ "You're welcome, (y/n)," he almost whispered in a hoarse voice, his hands still on your waist. "If you like this plushy fellow so much, I can't imagine how our little one would react." ✔ You almost choked on the air, everything you wanted to say stuck in your throat like a lump.  ✔ Jesus Christ, did he really mean it?  ✔ "Our little one?" You asked him in disbelief. ✔ "Yes, dear," he replied affectionately before taking the toy from your hands as he was about to scoop you up in his arms. "Let's try for a baby so you can give this cuddly toy to our little girl or boy." ✔ "Patrick..." You gasped and wrapped your hands around his strong neck to pull him closer. ✔ And when your mouths clashed again, Patrick registered yours move as a 'yes'. A low guttural sound escaped his broad chest as he felt your legs loop around his waist as he carried you to his bedroom. ✔ Kiss after kiss, touch after touch, you both breathed so hard that the air around you became electric. With a sly grin, he possessively unfastened your silky robe, not wasting a second to nuzzle your collarbone, placing little hickeys here and there, dotting your skin with his marks of love.

✔ "Fuck, you smell so good, sweetheart," he hummed into your ear, removing his shirt along with your robe, leaving you completely naked. "Did you miss me?"

✔ "Yes...mhm," your muffled moan echoed off the walls of the fancy bedroom as his soft fingertips eagerly explored the curves of your body, paying special attention to your hard nipples. "I missed you so much, my love."

✔ "Oh yeah?" His husky voice made you melt like butter on a summer day. "Then show me."

✔ With a shaky breath, you gently took his hand and guided it down between your legs, and when Bateman saw how soaked you were, he couldn't help but chuckle with satisfaction, but the next thing you did drove him completely wild.

✔ A little embarrassed, you brought his long fingers, glistening with your taste, to your lips.

✔ "Such a nasty little girl," he crooned, watching you intently. "So wet for me already."

✔ With that, Patrick grazed your neck, then licked your soft skin and fondled your pretty breasts. Shaking beneath him, you arched your back towards him before lying flat on the bed, opening your legs to present yourself to his lustful gaze and eliciting a loud curse to escape his tensed chest. Bateman hovered over you like a predator catching its prey, pinning you down with his weight as he unzipped his pants, and the next moment he was slowly stroking his hard length, which throbbed painfully in his hand.

✔ "Patrick," you mewled suddenly into his mouth as he attempted to kiss you. "What if...what if it won't work?"

✔ "It will," he reassured you by pecking your cheek. Carefully, he removed the last of his clothes and positioned himself between your splayed legs. "Just don't fucking think about it," Patrick murmured in a comforting tone, while he peppered your inner thigh with little smooches. "It's just you and me," he said, getting closer to your pulsating core with each gentle peck. "Do you trust me?"

✔ Propping yourself up on your elbows, you looked down at his ruffled hair, flushed face and beautiful hazel eyes. "Of course...of course I do." You nodded and before you knew it, his lips found their way to your throbbing clit, leaving a sensual kiss just below the hooded area. Then, he parted your tender flesh to take your little tip into his heated mouth. "Awww, Patrick!"

✔ An electric shock pierced through your body with each flicker of his delf tongue along your delicate petals, his skilful digits moving in a sync with his mouth as he slurped at your succulent pussy. “Mmhm, I’d never have enough of this.”

✔ Holding you tightly and not letting you close your legs, Bateman returned to his feast, alternately sucking on your bundle of nerves and flicking his wet tongue around it, peering at your beautiful face from time to time, and — the way you frowned in pleasure was like fuel to the fire.

✔ The things Patrick could do with his tongue, his lips and his mouth were as delightful as a sip of water after a hot day, but now you wanted him to take you in the truest sense of that word, you wanted him to ravage you and you wouldn't accept anything less than that.

✔ "Pat-Patrick, please...I need you...I need you inside of me," you pleaded, your hand stroking his brown, messy waves. "I want you."

✔ "Uh, so soon?" Bateman mused against your oozing folds, without stopping to pump his rock-hard dick.

✔ "Yes," you tugged a little harder at his soft hair. "Fuck me."

✔ Patrick hummed in response, allowing himself to tease you a little longer before he got up on his knees and took the nearby pillow to place it under your ass — he lifted you up so easily, his absolute power left you no choice but to surrender to his possession.

✔ Swiftly, Bateman put both of your legs on his broad shoulders, leaving a short trail of quick kisses on your trembling ankle. "I can't wait to see you blossom with maternity." His raspy voice was the only thing that mattered as he aligned himself with your dripping opening and in one powerful thrust plunged his thick cock all the way in, drawing a loud whimper from your dry lips. "Mhm, fuck...you're so tight." ✔ It took Patrick a moment to pull himself together from the way your greedy pussy was clinging to his throbbing dick. With his eyes closed, he gave you a really deep stroke before he pressed your legs closer to his chest as he leaned on his fist, finding the rhythm that would make you lose yourself. There was no way to resist that blissful sensation of being so full, so stretched, so conquered. ✔ "Yes, just like that," he praised you, hammering his strong hips against yours without taking his gaze off of you. The sight was simply incredible — your half-open mouth, your knitted eyebrows, and all of it belonged to him, your every moan, your every gasp. "Take that dick like a good girl you are," Patrick gritted his teeth from the unbearable pleasure of your soft, velvety walls encasing his dick so fucking perfectly. "Fuck, you make me so proud." ✔ "Aahh, you're so big," you cried, closing your eyes and clawing at his hips. "Mmmm, Patrick...Patrick..." ✔ Your pleading made him growl in response, and instead of spanking you or being pretty rough — which he usually preferred — Bateman moved closer to your face and put both of your legs on each of his shoulders again. "Shh, I'm here, babe," he cupped your chin and angled your head to leave a sensual hickey on your jaw. "Look at me, (y/n)," he uttered, slowing down a bit as he felt your inner channel clenching around him too vividly. "Look at me." ✔ Quivering beneath him, you didn't want to test his patience any longer, so you complied, and your eyes finally met. "I'm...I'm close," you swallowed hard at your words, not even recognizing your own voice at first. "I love you...I love you, Patrick!" ✔ Bateman couldn't stop smirking at your declaration of love, but instead of just using words, he quickly pulled out of you, only to turn you on your side to give you some nice and deep backshots.  ✔ "I know, honey," he rumbled, grasping your hip for leverage as he rammed into you mercilessly, each thrust accompanied by a nasty slap of his balls. "Tell me...tell me to cum." ✔ Clawing at your knee, you moaned pathetically as Bateman pressed you hard against the sheets, your small frame rocking violently as he fucked you into oblivion. "Cum for me…!" your voice cracked from the imminent orgasm. "Fill me with your seed...and breed me," you wrinkled the pillow underneath you as a white veil covered your vision. Once you felt Patrick convulsing against your body, his strokes became ragged and sloppy. "Yes...y-yes...please!" ✔ "Ah, f-f-fuck!" Your pleas only encouraged him to bury himself as deep as he could, his climax making him weak in the knees. The thought was so fucking astonishing; to spend his fertile cum in your womb, and soon your belly would swell with the fruit of your love. "Good girl...so good for me." ✔ Breathing heavily, he leaned down on you, pressing his sweaty cheek against yours and kissing your earlobe lovingly. Patrick purred some incoherent praises, wrapping one hand around your neck so you could rest your head on it, while another slid down your trembling body. First, he twirled your taut nipple, but then his palm suddenly changed its curse and sneaked between your thighs to rub your swollen clit. ✔ "Patrick...Patrick....a-aaah," you could repeat his name forever, but your own high washed over you like a tidal wave. "Mhmmm!" ✔ Even though you were shaking pretty badly Bateman easily held you securely under his massive body, enjoying the way you orgasmed and feeling so fucking arrogant that every twitch of your delicious body belonged to him.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[yuri-is-online]

Traditional Fantasy AU! Yuu who lives with Idia and Ortho in a little town next to the dungeon tm everyone’s adventuring through. Idia's there as part of his duties with S.T.Y.X. keeping an eye on the monsters and the strange resurrections of mages the labrynth allows.

TFAU! Yuu who has no memories before being woken up by Grim in the bed Idia's set aside for them, but has a strange draw to the labrynth and a need to go somewhere in it.

TFAU! Idia who gently forbids them from going, and tries to distract them by teaching them how to make and upkeep various machinery adventures might need, but still insists on teaching them how to shoot a gun. Just in case.

TFAU! Ortho who sneaks out to adventure every once in a while and tells Yuu all about the dungeon and convinces them they need to go even more. They talk about how much fun it would be to go through the floors with Idia, and try to come up with ways to convince him to come with them.

TFAU! Yuu who finds themselves in the Adventures Guild one day to drop off an order and see a red headed idiot talking about what easy money the job he's looking at will be and they can't help but laugh.

"Can't you see it's a scam? That's waaaay too much money for such a simple job!"

TFAU! Ace who gets really mad and starts an argument with the local magicless weirdo about how he could totally do this job, they just wouldn't know because they're stupid, which causes a fight between him, you, your cat, and some random fighter who swears he just wanted to talk things out (promise!) that breaks a bunch of expensive items in the guild and now you have to take the job or go to jail.

TFAU! Ramshackle Party of first years all really happy with their unexpected success in the dungeon... until Idia shows up clearly worried out of his mind over Yuu and legitimately angry that they went into the dungeon, equally terrified when Ortho confirms he's been sneaking out too.

"Promise you'll stick to the upper levels. And no entering melee. And keep together. And-"

TFAU! Idia who goes back to his desk and stares at a letter he's been meaning to send since you woke up months ago, hands shaking as he thinks about what the others will say if they find out he's been lying about your condition. If they find out he's letting you go back there again.

Traditional fantasy ayuu where there is something clearly wrong with Yuu but no one notices until it's almost too late.

Again.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Favorite Woman

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jim Street x fem!reader

Summary: Street celebrates you, his girlfriend, daily. On Women's Day, however, he steps up to make you feel special and loved.

Warnings: fluff!! brief mention of domestic violence (20-David responds)

Word Count: 1.5k+ words

A/N: Happy Women's Day to all of you amazing women! Life wouldn't be the same without you.🤍

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

When you wake up on March 8, you don’t expect anything special. It’s just another day on the calendar, but when you’re dating Jim Street, you never truly know what will happen from day to day. After you rub your eyes and stretch, you reach for your phone. A message from Street pops up when you unlock it.

Happy Women’s Day to my favorite woman.

You smile as you type a quick reply before getting up and preparing for the day. The message was unexpected but a sweet surprise that put you in a great mood, and you hope it’s the beginning of a great day. Once you’re dressed and ready, you text Street another message, asking him to have a great day and let you know how he is when he gets a chance.

Opening your front door to leave, you nearly trip over a large bouquet of flowers. Your smile grows when you see Street’s name on the card. He pulled out all of the stops for Valentine’s Day, so you probably shouldn’t be surprised, but you’ve never had someone celebrate you for an entire day just because you’re a woman. Then again, you are Jim Street’s favorite woman.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What’s up with you, smiley?” Luca asks.

“Nothing,” Street answers. “Just excited for a good day.”

“Oh,” Hondo interject. “And why is it such a good day?”

“It’s Women’s Day,” Street replies.

“Ah, best day of the year for a playboy,” Luca teases. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Dinner reservations at a café on the beach.”

“Wait, you celebrate Women’s Day, like make a whole thing out of it?” Tan asks.

“Of course. I mean, I’m dating a woman, and she’s amazing, so I’m going to celebrate her every chance I get.”

“They grow up so fast,” Hondo jokes, shaking Street’s shoulder. “What else you got up your sleeve, Mr. Romantic?”

“Please don’t let that stick,” Street whispers. “I got her a couple presents, sent her a text this morning, just little things to show her I appreciate her.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“What is that?” you ask, staring at the gift bag with wide eyes.

“Delivery. It just got dropped off. Have a good one.”

“You too.”

Pulling the bag closer, you untie the intricate bow holding the handles together before removing a long jewelry box. The bracelet inside is small, minimalistic, but incredibly beautiful. The light pink color is nearly invisible, seeming to be a sparkling white diamond shade unless the light hits it right. At the clasp, a small charm with ‘JS’ engraved on it.

Despite knowing that he may not answer, you call Street. When he does answer, you don’t let your surprise distract you.

“Hey,” he greets happily, and you can picture the loving smile on his face.

“This is too much,” you say. “I can’t accept this.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want another color, or-“

“Jim,” you interrupt with a laugh. “It’s too expensive.”

“You make it sound like you’re not worth the money. You don’t really want to have this argument on today of all days, do you?”

“Look, I love you.”

“And I love you. I meant it, you are my favorite woman and I love you and want to celebrate you.”

“You do that every day.”

“Not like this.”

“Wait, what does that mean? Street, is there more stuff coming?”

“I’ve already said too much.”

“Well,” you begin, smiling as you lean back and think of the one thing you want but haven’t gotten today. “In that case, can I make a special request?”

“Sure.”

“I want a kiss, as soon as possible.”

“I can be there in five minutes.”

“Without leaving work,” you add. “LA needs you, too.”

“LA isn’t as pretty as you.”

“Street.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Street, seriously, listen to me very closely. I love you, and I know that you love me, you make me feel seen and heard and loved, and I appreciate you and all of the gifts more than you know.”

“I love you, too. Hey, we just got a call, but I’ll-“

“See you then,” you interrupt. “Be safe. I love you.”

The line beeps when he ends the call, and you smile, looking at his initials hanging from your wrist. Street is the best boyfriend in the world, and knowing he is willing to celebrate you just because of who you are makes you fall even deeper in love with him.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Domestic disturbance,” Hondo alerts as the team climbs into Black Betty. “Neighbor said he could hear the husband yelling before things were thrown against the wall, but both neighbors are barricaded inside, refusing to talk to police.”

“Any idea if he’s armed?” Deacon asks.

“No registered weapons,” Hondo replies. “But that doesn’t mean he’s not.”

“How are we doing this?”

“I say we go in through the front door,” Street offers. “If he thinks cops are waiting out there, he’s not likely to expect it to get blown open.”

Hondo shrugs before nodding. “Stay liquid.”

Street reaches the door first, kicking it open once he feels Hondo’s hand on his shoulder.

“LAPD, step back!” he yells.

✯✯✯✯✯

It’s been about an hour since you talked to Street, and each moment that goes by without an update worries you. Playing with the bracelet and looking at your flowers helps, but you need confirmation he’s okay. Someone knocks on your door, drawing your attention away from the bracelet as you sign for another delivery.

The assortment of fruit and chocolate is so beautiful that you don’t want to eat it. When you see the card, you rush to open it and read it.

One more delivery, but enjoy this until then. Thank you for making life fun. I love you.

You wonder what more Street could have planned because your day is as close to perfect as you’ve ever experienced.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Well, if you’re done being a terrible human being, I’ve got a date with a beautiful woman,” Street grunts, pulling the handcuffed man to his feet.

“Hope yours listens better than mine,” the man replies.

“Tan, I need you to take him,” Street calls, passing him off before he can do something he’ll get in trouble for (not regret, just be punished for).

Street looks at his watch, and Hondo says, “Get out of here. But you may want to clean up before you pick up that beautiful woman.”

“Hey, are we ever gonna get to meet her?” Deacon asks, smiling as he removes his helmet. “Because I for one did not expect you of all people to settle down.”

“I’ve met her,” Luca brags.

“Yeah, yeah, roommate privileges,” Tan says as he returns. “But no one else wants to live with Street.”

“I’ll bring her to dinner or something soon,” Street promises. “Bye.”

“I’m sure there’s a joke about his mommy issues or something, but he’s so happy I can’t bring myself to make it,” Tan muses.

✯✯✯✯✯

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Street apologizes as he walks into your apartment, slipping his spare key into his suit pocket. “I- whoa.”

“It’s okay,” you reply, smiling.

“You look amazing,” Street adds, kissing your cheek. “Perfect.” Another kiss. “Beautiful.” Another kiss.

“You have good taste.”

“In women or clothing?” he asks. “Because you're the one that wanted the outfit, so I’m going to go with good taste in you.”

“How did you stay single this long?”

“I looked, but there’s only one you.”

“You did way too much today, but I love you for it.”

“I didn’t do enough. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I don’t show you enough.”

“You do. Jim, you’re the best part of me, and every single thing you do and say shows me that you love me.”

“So, you don’t want to go to dinner?”

You smile, laying your arms over his shoulders. “I really want to go to dinner. You look amazing, and I feel amazing, and I love you so much that I’m not sure I can survive another moment without kissing you.”

“Oh, right, I’m sorry, I forgot about your special request.”

“Then do something about it,” you whisper, leaning closer to him.

Street smiles, pulling you against him as he kisses you. Being his favorite woman makes you feel whole, and you’re never as happy as when you’re in his arms.

“I would like to hear more about how I’m your favorite woman,” you say, pulling back. “Because you’ve worked with some incredibly strong women.”

“But there’s only one you.”

“And there’s only one you.”

Street kisses your temple, wrapping an arm around you as he leads you toward his car. You lean against him, enjoying his warmth and the joy and comfort he provides you.

“That’s probably a good thing,” he replies. “Because the one of me that there is loves you, even if he doesn’t tell you enough. Happy Women’s Day, to the most beautiful, loving, perfect woman in the world.”

“Will you still feel that way tomorrow?”

“I’ll feel this way until I can’t feel anything. You’re stuck with me.”

[nouearth]

because i love you.

jason todd x male reader.

summary: your birthday is a memory you often ignore. jason is determined to forge a new, unforgettable one.

wc: 3k. genre: fluff, comfort. warnings: domestic!au, crying, descriptions of food.

a/n: happy belated birthday, anon! i know this was late, but i wanted to priortize this over my other requests before it would be even later, LOL. hope you had a great one, and that this was a gift to remember!

request: anon.

“so,” a gruff voice briefly broke your focus from peering through the oven door, but the cookies had seconds left in the oven, so you'd figure a hum to acknowledge jason's presence would suffice.

it was a painful and mundane process to squat and watch the cookie batter form into heavenly, ooey-gooey chocolatey goodness. sure, you could’ve done something to pass the time—finish your backlog of books, or even the tv dramas you promised your friends you would finish soon—but the cookies always came out perfect like this.

once, you decided to do laundry while letting the cookies bake. as soon as the oven rang, the thought of over-baking your perfected recipe of cookies, that everyone had gleefully devoured and expected at every potluck, chased you faster than a wild fox could. to your bewilderment (and exhaustion), a few seconds longer in the oven changed the texture of the baked treats. though no one noticed, even if you insisted that the taste changed as well, it ruined your entire day and since then, you’ve made a silly promise to yourself to never let these cookies out of your sight.

even if your boyfriend was squatting with you, kissing you at the neck now. 

“earth to (m/n),” his lips brushed deep into your skin, and you could hear him inhaling your natural scent. for a minute there, he forgot you were baking, so the smell of chocolate and brown sugar certainly awakened an unexpected appetite in him. it growled. 

“hello.” jason stretched a whisper into your neck, and you chuckled when his gruff voice tickled you, vowels vibrating lowly into your skin.

“someone’s needy.” you turned to finally greet him with a smile, some kind of acknowledgement, and he begrudgingly accepted it with a kiss. it was almost as sweet as the sugar crystals in the cookie batter he sampled earlier. 

two more minutes now.

“guess i’ll have to bake myself into a cookie to get your attention these days,” jason muttered, pressing his chest to your broad back. the heat from the oven radiated in front of you, yet your back felt warmer.

your head leaned back on his shoulder, grinning towards his frown while he tucked his chin in the vacant space between your neck and shoulder. “whoa, are you envious of my cookies now? that’s kind of sick considering you inhale them within seconds after i take them out of the oven—“

“i eat anything.” jason stated dryly, his palms roamed over your stomach to chase his appetite away as if your body and his were connected. his lips found your neck again, adding to the flush of your skin while one hand slipped under the waistband of your shorts to satiate a different craving. your legs slowly sprawled to accommodate his inviting touch, humming. “they make a great pre-workout.” 

and with the close of your legs, access had been denied. “so, they’re not delicious like you’ve been claiming?”

jason widened his eyes, yanking his hand out of your shorts to put his hands up defensively. “wait, no. that’s not— okay, we’re getting off-topic!”

“hey,“ the oven sang, and with a delighted hop, you abandoned your boyfriend on the floor to tend to your long-awaited baked goods. “you’re the one that brought it up!”

the smell of chocolate and sugar billowed in the air when you opened the oven, and jason’s appetite returned like a parasite once the delicious aroma hit his nose. 

it hadn’t been that long since you’ve started baking, but your hobby had quickly become a beloved activity (and expense), and your affection for it was telling through the wear and tear of your oven mitts. you burned yourself a few times when the baking sheet pressed into various ripped holes, but despite jason’s concern, you never found it damaged enough to purchase a new one. besides, it didn’t take very long to learn the pattern of the hot spots.

two baking sheets, filled with freshly-baked cookies, slid onto the stovetop, and you closed the oven, turning it off after. steam rose from the bloomed batter and you marveled at the sight: rustic, crinkly brown doughs that harbored mounds of comfort and nostalgia in one snack. though for some people, in one bite. the smell hits you after, stung your nose with brown sugar and chocolate chips, and you approved the batch with a deep inhale. 

“what did you want to talk about?” a crack of kosher salt was topped to the cookies, adding to the rustic presentation of the baked goods.

“well,” the smell of the cookies pulled him back to his feet, then by your side as he watched the chunky salt enchant the goods to a higher level. “it’s someone’s birthday soon.” though he knew not to, he reached out to sample an edge of the dough anyway.

“careful,” you watched him with amusement and high curiosity, eyebrows raised to inquire him of the taste. though you knew the answer by the time the chocolate hit his tongue, it was tenfold more interesting than the topic of your birthday.  “what about it?” you asked, and he hummed in approval, greed guiding his hand back to the piping hot cookies.

“so—ow,” the heat bit at jason’s fingers and his hand yanked back to immediately flick remnants of the sting off. “didn’t you want to do anything? a party? dinner? you never even told me what you wanted for your gifts.”

“hm,” you took the oven mitts off and directed the draft towards the steam with quick and light swings, then towards jason’s fingers as he began picking at the chocolate that oozed out. “i never took you as someone who cared about birthdays that much.”

“yeah, well,” he blew on his chocolate stained finger once more before pressing it to your smile. “we’re learning more about each other every day, aren’t we?”

“and it’s kind of incredible how you haven’t dumped me yet.” you laughed and licked the bittersweet stain off your lips. jason only joined with a mere chuckle. he never liked it when you talked about yourself like this.

“seriously though,” jason leaned on the counter with his elbow, nudging your waist with a gentle pat. his hair delicately parted to the side, watching you like you were the only one. “what do you want to do? we can do whatever you want.” devouring the cookies was the last thing on his mind now. 

you’re the only one.

“jason,” the steam slowly waft in the air as you averted your gaze to the cookies cooling. salt glinted under the lights, and they have never looked sweeter. “it’s sweet of you and i appreciate it, but…” yet, there was a bitter aftertaste when you nibbled on a crumble. “i don’t really celebrate my birthday.”

“what?” his immediate instinct was to hold you, taking you by the waist as if it could protect you from the memory of the past. “how come? did something bad happen?”

“no, no. nothing like that!” laughing it off always helped you alleviate the bitterness of your thoughts. “it’s just…” but for some reason, your throat began to swell when you do.

“just…?” jason pressed his hand to your waist in a heartfelt attempt at squeezing an answer out of you. “come on, i’m at the edge of my seat here.”

you laughed, taking his hand off and then into your own, as you guided him out of the kitchen and to the living room. the sweet smell was dizzying now. plus your legs hurt from the squatting earlier. you needed some place to snuggle yourself into. preferably, your couch. 

“my family could never afford stuff, so it hasn’t been a thing since…” a yawn escaped your lips as you found comfort into the embrace of jason’s arms. his broad chest was a pillow you never asked for, and these days, you found it to be the best solace your head demanded for. “i guess when i was eight?”

“oh,” jason realized, then began stroking the side of your head as an apology. “i didn’t mean to pry or—“

“it’s no big deal.” in between his caresses, you quickly tilted your head back to press a kiss to his palm—a measurement to dispel his worries. “i’ve spent a longer part of my life not celebrating it, so it’s just a norm now! honestly, i didn’t even notice that my birthday was coming up until you mentioned it to me.”

closing your eyes, images of your family appeared in soft, fading blurs. they smiled through gritted teeth, as did you, and sweated through hard labor of work that managed to put food on a table. “and i also don’t blame my parents, if that’s what you’re thinking. i did at first, but shit happens.” 

though, never a cake.

“you really do nothing since then, though? not even cook yourself dinner or something?” the affection caresses spread to your cheeks and the warmth pulled at the corners of your mouth into a smile.

“i did once,” you shifted to connect your warmth to his. in midst, you were reminded that the smell of jason’s cologne will always triumph over the scent of your cookies. “but it just kind of made things sad, to be honest. it felt weird.” 

“but you celebrated my birthday.” the memories warmed him. “for someone who never celebrated their own, you sure knew how to throw a great party.” laughter, a delicious dinner, and drink shenanigans echoed in passing. “even if it was only us.”

you chuckled at the irony of it all, satisfied that you’ve managed to impress your boyfriend despite your inexperience. 

“well,” glancing up, you then held jason’s doting stare, collected it into your soul, and then sealed it into a vault.

“that’s because i love you.” 

the stroll from your car and to your apartment seized all the energy left in you. aside from carrying bags of groceries, the heavy weight slowly drained your arms of life, the long day of work had a major factor to your exhaustion. awaiting approvals while you were approaching a tight deadline was never ideal, but luckily it got extended, so you can sleep a teensy-bit better tonight. 

grunting, your veins pulsed when you lifted the heavy bags with one arm to punch in the code to your keypad, refusing to be defeated by packs of frozen fruit, greek yogurt, jason’s protein powder, and his mandatory cereal boxes. the beep and green light compelled a satisfied noise out of you and you immediately bouldered into your apartment, stumbling through the garden of your shoes and jason’s, and into the kitchen within a single, hurried stride.

“jase?!” you grunted loud from below, setting the groceries down as soon as the handles pressed into a certain spot in your vein that made you wince. jason’s voiced boomed from above. 

“yeah?!”

as much as you hated it when jason left his soda out, today would be an exception. you downed it in one dreamy gulp, and you could feel your body absorb the sugars, working overtime to churn it into energy afterward.

“can you put the groceries back for me?! i want to go shower!” the kitchen sink alleviated some of that humidity built atop your hands, but you needed it off your body.

“yeah!” jason shouted out. “i’ll be down in a sec!” 

it took you a moment, still high from the amount of energy you’ve exerted within the short amount of time, but the air smelled sweetly familiar. of vanilla, brown sugar, a hint of cinnamon, you sniffed out. 

must’ve baked the cookies i froze for him. you looked around, a sudden desperate need for another ounce of sugar in your body after your commendable performance today. 

and of course, he ate them all.

as soon as you came up the stairs, jason met you outside with a kiss—a password to your bedroom, you’d reckon.

your arms opened up for a hug. “they didn’t have the flavor you wanted, so i—“ but embracing the body of your lover, they were immediately occupied by a pile of your clothes for the night.

“yeah, yeah! that’s fine.” jason began nudging, then pushing you to the bathroom, scrunching his face. “you stink, go shower.”

“wait, why are you acting—“ bewilderment passed you as you stumbled back, and your curiosity was met by more push back, literally. the latter looked nerved, unusually antsy, and that was never a good sign. “jason, are you okay—“

“uh-huh, yeah! yeah, yeah. fine.” before you could even get another question out, the door slammed shut. “wash up! i’m gonna put the groceries back!”

oooookay..?

it took a few beats to register what exactly happened, but all of it was buried to the back of your mind as soon as you started the shower. refreshing and cooling as that soda you downed earlier.

damn, i should’ve restocked on that…

the cold draft cooled your damp skin when you stepped out the bathroom, releasing harbored humidity, and your stress for the day left along with it.

“hey,” your voice echoed while you stepped downstairs, expecting jason to either be on the couch or in the kitchen, most likely eating away at your snacks. “what do you want to eat for dinner—“

“jason?” instead, you were met with complete darkness—well, as dark as it could be while impending dusk approached your windows.

he wasn’t on the couch, entertainment-free. 

you stepped into the kitchen. not there, either. the groceries were put away, but the plastic bags were scattered around the floor. not a single soul, a whisper, or a sound, except for the crinkle of the bags as you stashed them into your recyclables.

either the shower cleared your sinuses, or jason plugged in a new wall fragrance, because the smell was sweeter compared to before. chocolate in its new top note, and vanilla, again, in its base. 

it was strange, you checked the oven. though it was warm, nothing was out of place. then the fridge, nope—jason didn’t stash any leftovers there. once again, catalogued the entire kitchen, suspiciously nothing.

you figured you’ll ask jason about it later, whenever he would come back, but for now, your priority was satiating that grumble in your stomach. as you browsed through your fridge for ingredients after turning on the lights, the cooling air wafted the sweetness away, only for it to return stronger.

and just as quick as the smell of chocolate returned, the lights flickered off.

“what the—“ you turned, and your curiosity was immediately startled by the presence of the missing man. “jesus, jason. where were—“

the only source of light that lit the room came from a soft yellow blur that flickered near jason’s chin. gentle, then not so when he took a step. another waver of light when the draft caught onto the light as he approached you. the light grew bigger, flickered stronger, as if it was connected to your heart and memorized every beat, and the smell of chocolate was pleasantly stringent to your nose.

cake. 

it was a chocolate cake all along, and jason held it with a smile that had been shadowed by the candle. anxiously, you’ve never seen him wore it with a grin before, but it made your heart skip another beat, then two when he confessed.

“happy birthday,” the dark of your orbs refracted the candlelight, yellow and orange light reunited with a wave, several excited waves as if they’ve lost you, and the smoke burning off it cooled the impending wetness of your eyes.

“what— what is this?” your breath hiked, and the candles found it calming, like the sea breeze as it brushed against them—through them. “what are—“

it felt like an eternity since you’ve been celebrated. no, it had been an eternity.

tears slowly rolled down your cheeks as you felt years pass by, heard the cries of a child that received nothing. 

the first year, it was because you were expecting of it. a gift that was never promised, but your hands were bare of nothing. 

the second year, it was hope. something that clung onto because you were promised something. 

the third year. it was denial. it had to be this year, right? you rocked yourself to sleep the night before.

the fourth year. anger. you screamed as if a gift was the only testament in the world to truly display a parent’s love for their child. 

then, the fifth year. acceptance. 

and since, you’ve matured, learned why, and thought it was for the better.

“make a wish,” jason said calmly, breaking you from the spell of your own thoughts.

“what?” you croaked weakly.

years of sheltering your birthday made you clueless, but luckily, jason was here to teach you—to remind you.

“make a wish, then blow.” as much as he wanted to hold you right now, he couldn’t risk his hard work dropping to the floor.

“oh—“ you did as you were told. you wished silently, closing your eyes until another swell of tears were forced to roll out, then blew. 

when jason turned the lights back on, the sight of the cake pulled a laugh out of you. slanted in its position, chocolate smeared all over the cake board, thick icing to cover up the mistakes, you laughed until you wiped tears.

“did you bake this for me?” you snickered, taking the cake and setting it down, because you needed to hug him, embrace him, squeeze him.

“god,” jason laughed, pressed a kiss to your head as he took you in with a strong hug. “if i bought a cake that looked like that, i’d demand two refunds. one for the cake, and one for the happiness they swindled from me.”

“i told you not to, though!” you playfully beat at his chest, the blush on your cheeks pulled a smile wider than you have ever felt, than jason had ever seen. “why?”

“because,” he sighed, then pressed his forehead to yours, holding your damp gaze like it was a prayer. the tension in both your bodies go limp, and he held you closer, worshipping you until he became besotted in your smell, your voice, your gaze, your touch.

“because,” jason repeated, and you held his cheeks, caressing his rough skin.

until even your existence wouldn’t be enough to sober him.

“because i love you.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[rinanextdoor]

xo (only if you say yes) — letter #1

wordcount: 669

series masterlist : xo (only if you say yes)

yang jungwon was popular and has always been popular ; it was a fact that he has grown to accept. many called him lucky, but jungwon would disagree — he disliked any unwanted attention.

despite that, he believed being popular had its perks : getting random gifts, having a sense of importance and validation, having admirers.

but with perks, it also came with downsides : being used, being disliked for no reason, having boundaries crossed.

so when a letter fell from his locker, jungwon wasn’t surprised. everyday his locker and desk would be filled with gifts, ranging from hand written confessions to expensive perfumes (that he never wore).

but for some reason, this letter felt different, it was lavender and smelled of lavender. it was also unsigned, left anonymous. all the letters he received in the past were signed, the writers wanting to be acknowledged.

maybe it was the sense of not knowing the identity of the person who wrote this letter, but the brunette gently stuffed the envelope into his backpack, not wanting to crease it for when he saved it for home.

jungwon wasn’t sure why he felt so differently about this letter, it was like any other gift he has received. but despite his initial idea to read it later, he sat opening the letter in anticipation during his break.

dear yang jungwon,

one of two things might have happened to this letter : one, i actually gathered the courage to slip this envelope into your locker or two, i chickened out and am now rereading this letter.

in the case that it’s the latter, you’re an absolute fucking idiot.

in the case you are reading this, please ignore the previous sentence.

i know how often you receive love letters from various people, but im not writing this to confess my love to you. in fact, im writing this to try and get over you.

that seems a bit selfish and unexpected, but im trying to be realistic and save myself from heartbreak — you have tons of admirers and i have always doubted you would reciprocate my feelings.

i’ve kept my feelings a secret for quite a while now, which is most likely why im writing this. seeing months of no progress (which is totally my fault) fueled my doubt and lead me to where i am now.

despite trying to get over my feelings, i would still like to keep these letters positive. so, i’m going to be telling you why i have fallen for you.

to me, it seems as if your true self goes unappreciated. people seem to only admire your physical appearance, but there’s much more to you. you’re such a kind person and i respect how you’re able to stay positive despite the circumstances.

your intelligence is also admirable : you always seem to get the highest marks in class with minimal effort. not only are you academically smart, but also mentally and emotionally. it amazes me how you are always able to help others even if the situation is not ideal.

anyways, i hope this letter doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable and i genuinely apologize if it does, but i’m hoping you understand the reasoning behind me writing this and where i am coming from.

p.s. i know you don’t really keep any of the things that you are gifted, but i hope you like this bracelet i made :)

sincerely, anonymous

jungwon looked through the purple envelope, finding the bracelet that was mentioned. it was a beaded bracelet, mixed with various different blue beads and star charms. if they know his favorite color, he wondered what else they knew about him.

he found himself rereading the letter over and over again (after successfully putting on the bracelet), hoping to find some sort of slip up that may reveal the anonymous writer. he flipped the paper over once more, frowning as he found nothing.

even though he never kept any of the gifts he received, jungwon kept this letter, in hopes to find out their identity.

(ㅤㅤ ©rinanextdoor on tumblrㅤㅤ )

[gibsongirled]

Okay hai sorry again it’s me (lmk if I’m bothering you)

another fic idea:

Schlatt takes fem!reader to her favorite artist’s concert (Chappell Roan) and he actually does the Hot To Go! Dance

it sounded better in my head

YOU CAN TAKE ME HOT TO GO !!

description: you can definitely cross off a concert off your bucket list now

a/n: i hope this did your req justice !!

You knew of Chappell Roan when she first released Pink Pony Club and it was circling around TikTok like any new audio does. You liked and added the song to one of your playlists and then forgot about it like usual- going on with your life, and occasionally belting out the song when it got shuffled.

As Chappell began to rise up to stardom, so did your Spotify stats. Your FYP started flooding in with people doing the dance and you’d do one each time it popped into your head like a persistent melody you couldn’t seem to shake. Schlatt would scoff and roll his eyes each time the dance happened. One time, you did the dance on his stream and he playfully pushed you away while chat spammed your name and the lyrics.

So when Schlatt said that he got tickets to her show for your birthday, you screamed. Because that was unexpected - even for him - and the tickets were definitely expensive. He just shoved the tickets into your hand and said that he liked seeing you happy.

Now you’re standing in a venue with too many people to count - feeling like you were packed in a can of sardines - with Schlatt beside you as you loudly sing the chorus to ‘HOT TO GO!’, and laughed as Schlatt struggled to do the dance.

You were dressed in one of the themes with red glitter carefully painted across your face and while Schlatt didn’t want to dress up like the theme, he wore a red sweater that he randomly found off Ebay that seemed to fit the theme.

How he managed to survive wearing a sweater in a venue full of people on a hot sunny day, you’ll never know. It was like a super power.

“Jay, you have to do it like this!” You say with a laugh, holding your arms up to form the ‘H’ and he looks down at you, mirroring your pose. “Toots, y’know ‘m not a dancer,”

“Yeah, but just try!”

The venue yells out the chorus and you do the dance once more, urging Schlatt to follow your steps. He eventually gets it after a few tries and you jump in glee, high fiving him after the song finishes. “You did good!”

There was definitely a clip of him doing the dance that circled around Twitter for the next couple of days, and you would cackle maniacally each time fanart or an edited version of that clip came on your timeline.

[dazaiandhislovelybandages]

Hi! Vera again~

Could you write for Daisuke Kambe for number 11 from your prompt list (I live to impress)?

I Live To Impress {Kambe Daisuke}

It was supposed to be a normal date but then again... nothing is normal when it comes to Daisuke

A/n: honestly it is a crime that there aren't many fics with Daisuke and Haru. However, I am here to deliver once more.

Pairing: Kambe Daisuke x reader

Trigger Warnings: none

It had become a tradition at this point that whenever you and Daisuke went on a date, he would pick you up from your house with his 'humble' sports car and drive to a nice restaurant to dine. Maybe, if the night was still young, the two of you would go to a roof garden and have a cocktail or two. Pretty chill activities since Daisuke never settled for anything less.

Aside from some 'unexpected' dates, the two of you would go out every Friday night and if not to go to dinner then to take a walk around the park.

Today was Friday but Daisuke had suggested to go windowshopping -it never was JUST windowshopping- which was fine with you since it was holiday week and every single store would be decorated.

"Cartier or Harry Winston?" Daisuke fixed the black scarf around his neck before putting his gloved hand back in his coat's pocket.

"Buccellati." You replied nonchalantly.

"All three then." He sighed and his breath could be seen.

"Why are we here anyways? When it comes to walks you're always adamant on going to the park."

You received no reply however since Daisuke stopped walking and stared at a restaurant at the opposite side of the street. There were a lot of people outside, watching the workers who transferred few of the most expensive furniture inside with the outmost care.

"Well?"

"Do you think it will be ready by next Friday?" Finding his question slightly odd, you turned to look at him. He seemed to be deeply invested in the speed with which the workers brought the furniture inside, his eyes going back and forth between them and the workers on the rooftop of the restaurant who were building the bar.

"Does it matter?" You asked.

"Of course it does. I am paying for its construction." Daisuke seemed to notice how you blinked in question and turned his head just enough to look at you. "There aren't any other fine restaurants in town and you don't like travelling with a helicopter."

"So you bought the restaurant of this hotel?"

"No, I built the hotel." He shrugged.

"Why?"

"Because, I live to impress and I have too much money."

It is needless to say that the interior of the restaurant and the hotel on top of it had indeed been finished by the time you and Daisuke walked inside just a week later.