#so i just get stuck in these feelings of helplessness and no wonder i let myself reach my limit and would rather die instead

[stellacadente]

and that's on top of pinning my distress and suffering and the awful time i'm going thru on the fact i'm on hrt

[luveline]

Hiiiiii!!!!!!! I recently got back into criminal minds and devoured all ur hotch fics like a MANIAC (you write. So unbelievably well. Im also in love w ur tasm peter stuff, you are just such a good writer thru and thru) and that one request where Jack calls reader mom for the first time really stuck w me so I was wondering if maybe I could request smth of the opposite? Like not-so-single mom!reader and hotch have been dating for a while and her lil girl calls him dad for the first time :3 🖤🖤

thank you for requesting! 💌 —your daughter calls Hotch dad for the first time. fem, 2k

“Come in, come in!” Hotch says, the door held ajar by his arm, forcing you to squeeze in and save the heat. “Quickly, honey, please, get out of the rain.” 

Sarah bursts in through the door and away from the rain, her vinyl coat covered in raindrops, her boots wet with mud. “Aaron!” she says, pulling it into something softened and excited at once, though her ‘r’s are weak, closer to ‘w’s. “I missed you.” She jumps from one foot to the other. 

He makes sure you’re safely inside before he abandons you. It’s not very kind to you, but he can’t help himself. “Sarah,” he says, without your daughter’s sweetness but heavily fond, “I missed you more, honey. How many days has it been?” 

“Four!” she says, holding up four fingers as Hotch grabs her by the waist. 

He doesn’t mind her wet coat, working an arm around and beneath her to shuck off her muddy shoes. They topple to the ground to unveil damp socks. 

“Oh, no, your socks are wet. I did all the laundry while we were waiting, I have some warm ones for you in the dryer. Should we get you out of this coat?” 

“Where’s Jack?” you ask. 

“Eating. He was starving, couldn’t wait.” 

You kick your shoes off and gather them with Sarah’s to line up by the door. Hotch takes off Sarah’s coat with some one-armed manoeuvring, aware of her smiley gaze following his every move. 

“I,” you say, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek, cold lips to his rough skin, “am gonna go to the toilet really quickly. Hi, handsome.” 

He savours your kiss and watches you go. He owes you a better greeting, he missed you just as much as he missed your girl. For now, he wipes the cold from Sarah’s cheeks and stations her comfortably on his navel. 

He loves her like his own. He’s privileged to get the opportunity, and it’s hard not to feel that low level of awe whenever she’s around, because she loves him the same way. Sarah waits for him to smile before she wraps her arms around his neck, long enough to twine her fingers in the short hair she finds there. 

It’s funny to love someone you had no hand in bringing into the world, but no less real. He’d do anything for Sarah. I miss you doesn’t cover it, but it’s a start. “I missed you,” he murmurs, not well-versed in baby talk but always willing to try for his kids. “It’s so nice to see you. Jack missed you too, should we go see him? I can change your socks.” 

He ushers her back enough to see her. She has such loving eyes, not shy at all as she nods her head. “Can you make crackers?” 

He beams. “Oooh, yes. Crackers and cheese and apple slices, I know what you want, honey. It’s ready for you in the kitchen.” 

Things weren’t easy at first for either you nor Hotch. He works too much, and you both have priorities that can’t be shifted, but the connection between you was easy. Love, undoubtedly, pretty much the moment you met, even if it scared him. He never thought he’d get a second chance and he’s not sure you thought you’d find yours either, and yet loving you has been as helpless as loving your daughter. He doesn’t have a choice and he doesn’t want one. 

In this time, you’ve found routine. He’s introduced the idea of moving in together and you’re excited for it, though concrete plans haven’t been laid. There’s a lot of questions and no need to rush into answering them yet. He has no intentions of letting you go now —Hotch will do anything it takes to keep his small family. 

Today, right now, that’s crackers. 

“Sarah!” Jack says when he sees them, jumping off of his chair to climb on top of it. He holds his hands out and Hotch leans down with a loving laugh to let his son hug her. “You’re back!” 

“I’m back,” she agrees. 

“Do you want some of my sandwiches? Daddy made me two.” 

“Yes!” she says, wiggling to be put down and given what he’s promising. 

Hotch fights to take her to the sink and wash her little hands, to her horror and whining. He says, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you gotta wash your hands before you eat.” 

He puts her in her own chair, and it is Sarah’s chair, outfitted with a big pillow so she can see the table and marked by a pink star sticker, putting a placemat in front of her. Jack quickly pushes one of his sandwiches towards her. “There you go.” 

“Thank you, Jackers,” she says. 

Hotch smiles. Despite their different interests and ages, they’re quick to get along. 

He shouldn’t pry while you’re in the bathroom, but he worries about you. “Honey?” he calls up the stairs. 

“I’m just changing!” 

“Yeah? Can you bring some socks for Sarah, please?” 

You shout back something incomprehensible. He returns to the kitchen, where Sarah looks over the chair with pleading eyes and asks, “Crackers?” a piece of lettuce stuck to her chin. 

“Ah,” he says showfully, turning to the fridge to grab the plate of crackers, sliced cheese, and apples he’d Saran wrapped an hour ago. He peels off the wrapping and places it in front of her. “Here, sweetheart. Do you want anything else? Maybe some chips?” 

She laughs and grabs a piece of apple without answering him. 

“What about you, sweetheart? Drink?” he asks Jack. 

“Yes please, daddy.” 

Hotch makes Jack a cup of orange juice and Sarah a sippy cup, hers diluted some with water. He places them down in front of the kids, crouching between their chairs, intending to stay and chat. “How’s that?” he asks, tilting his head to the side to listen for your light footsteps on the stairs.  

“Thanks, daddy,” Jack says. 

“Thank you, daddy,” Sarah echoes, reaching for him. Hotch offers his hand, startled, not quick enough to hide it. She doesn’t pay any mind to his expression, pleased to have her hand held and her big plastic plate of crackers to munch on. 

“Why’d you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” you ask, passing him Sarah’s socks, and rounding the table to stand by Jack's other side. “Hi,” you add, ruffling Jack’s hair, “look at you, gorgeous, you got your hair cut.” 

Hotch rubs Sarah’s knuckles, trying to phrase it, not sure how to tell you with the kids still there. Will Sarah feel embarrassed if he brings it up so swiftly? Will she feel like she’s done something wrong? Will you? 

“What’s wrong?” you ask. 

He decides to present you with the situation. He’s not manipulative, but clever. “Mommy got your socks, too. Can we take these cold ones off, is that okay?” 

“Yes, please,” Sarah says.

You watch in confusion. Hotch gives you a quick look. Trust me for a second. 

He eases the socks off of her feet, laughs when she laughs at his tickling, even if he’s not quite sure how to feel. Happy, he gives her toes a squeeze and bunches a sock up to pull it over her heel and up to her ankle. “One,” he says, repeating the process with the same tenderness. “Two. There we go, all warm again, Sarah.” 

“Thanks, daddy.” 

You breathe in. 

Sarah puts some cheese on a cracker and offers it to Hotch, who eats it while you summon him away with silent parent talk. He kisses her forehead and wipes it clean as he goes. 

“Did she do that when I was upstairs?” you ask quietly. 

Hotch knows you. Loves you, but knows you intrinsically. He knows just by looking at you that you’re happy, but you’re worried about something, and it’s not hard to guess what it is: he might not want Sarah to call him daddy, and telling her not to might break her heart, and yours too. 

“She did.” 

“She’s never… expressed that interest to me.” 

“Sometimes they think about things more than we know.” Jack still surprises him as he did when he was a toddler.

“She just loves you,” you say. 

“I love her. She can call me whatever she wants to.” 

You hold his wrist, taking a step closer to him. “Are you sure?” 

“Of course I’m sure.” He murmurs now you’re close, ducking his head to yours, two halves of the same heart looking at one another’s hands. “I love her more than anything in the world. I want to make her crackers for the rest of my life.” Hotch puts his index finger to the soft skin under your chin. “Maybe by tomorrow she’ll forget she called me daddy and she’ll never say it again, but… I want her to. Is that okay?” he asks. 

You lean up to kiss him and you nod into his lips, which makes it hard but not impossible to kiss back. “She loves you so much,” you say quietly. You’d only wanted a quick peck. 

He might’ve said he loves her more than anything, but there’s a level on which he holds her and Jack where you sit too. He loves you. You made Sarah who she is all by yourself, and you’re so lovable standing in his reach. You’re perfect. 

Maybe he’s feeling sweet because Sarah called him daddy. 

“I think Jack confused her,” he says. 

“Maybe. You are, you know, her dad. You do everything a dad would.” 

Hotch slots his leg between yours and leans back to force you into his favourite kind of hug. You laugh slowly, hug the same, your arms sliding up over his shoulders to wrap behind his head, your hand cupping his hair. 

He closes his eyes and feels your waist. 

“You don’t have to worry,” he says. 

“I don’t worry about you and Sarah, I know you love her. I guess I just worry about us. Not that you don’t love me, Aaron.” 

“Big changes,” he guesses in a whisper. 

“Big changes.” 

He encourages you away to hold your face. He hopes that waiting with you in quiet for a while can explain it better than words. 

Your shoulders finally relax. 

[zaephix]

macaron of my eye / / zayne . . .

being the birthday boy came with its perks, like gifts and cake, blessings, and even being able to get away with stealing a few birthday sweets and kisses.

warnings: f!reader, canon divergence (story is diff from the bday story), jealous!zayne, fluff, suggestive

w/c: 1.2k

author's note: happy birthday to the one fictional man who set my standards higher than heaven <3

"nuh-uh, nope!"

zayne didn't even get the chance to land the slightest touch on one of the many macarons you ended up baking before you promptly slapped his hand away.

"i know it's nearly your birthday but this doesn't mean you can just have your way when you see fit, doctor."

he slowly retracts his wandering hand and you resist the urge to giggle at the sight of his dejected face. these past few days you'd been busy planning for zayne's special day. decorations, sweets, gifts, cake, more sweets... it took some work but you had just about everything checked out and ready to go.

...except for the surprisingly clingy man before you.

he doesn't know why, but he's been feeling irked ever since you visited the hospital a few days ago. it was common to see you heading over to zayne's office after your shift was over, but he'd never actually see you stop and talk to his coworkers. it bothered him, clearly.

you and greyson would talk in hushed whispers oftentimes these days, sneaking glances over in his direction everytime he'd pass by. he brushed it off but it would never leave the back of his mind.

not to mention the fact that you'd barely respond to his calls and texts. he'd taken the next few days leading up to his birthday off, and you seemed excited, so why the change of energy?

he found his answer 20 minutes ago.

"you know, i'd maybe let you eat some if you didn't just come into my apartment unannounced and..." you glance over him, "so gloomy..."

zayne sighs, leaning on the countertop of your kitchen while watching you work ever so diligently.

he supposed you had a point.

after his 4th missed call or so he decided to see you himself, knocking on your door before picking up the key under your plant vase in front of your door and seeing himself in... and as you can tell, without your permission.

"i'm... sorry," he starts slowly. "but don't you think you're at fault for ignoring me?"

you turn back around after putting in the final batch of macarons, smiling. "awh. poor little doctor zayne. so helpless and in need of attention."

he turns his head to the side a little and shakes his head lightly, smiling all the while. "yes..."

"poor little me," a sudden mischiecious glint appears in his eyes, "without my hunter to keep me company. she keeps sneaking off and planning surprises behind my back."

"and yet... someone ruined it!"

"i suppose were both feeling quite woeful today."

"hmph," you turn around with your hands crossed. "don't even ask for a bite. i know you'll be begging sooner or later!"

he stands up and comes closer to your turned form, "not even a nibble?"

"not even!"

"then... i'll just have to improvise, no?"

"what are you talking abou-?"

unbeknownest to you, zayne's favorite sweet was not just macarons.

no, they were something else entirely.

he hums as he rests his arms atop your waist, leaning down exceptionally slowly. your neck heats up, even moreso than when you were stuck baking in the kitchen for hours on end.

his breath fans against your ear, soft chuckles echoing from his chest onto the plain of your back. "this."

he moves the hair cascading down your back to your side, holding it in place as he softly latches his lips onto your exposed skin. your own breath hitches in your chest as you gasp at the contact.

his lips felt cold, but not in a bad way. cold, like the first breeze of autumn after the end of summer. he moves his way up the side of your neck with painfully slow strides. he inhales deeply, taking in the sweet scent of the various flavours of cake attached to you.

and as you exhale steadily, you wonder what encouraged him to reveal this side of himself.

"zayne..."

soft carresses of his lips lingered on your skin—and you found yourself hoping your own lips to be their next victim. never once did his grip on you falter or grow stronger, yet they kept you firmly in place, anticipating his every move.

soon enough he'd completed his trail across your jaw, and you turn your neck to face him. he opens his eyes to find yours and detaches himself, dark and hazy. god, you felt pathetic...

"did you get my answer yet?"

you don't reply, looking from his eyes to his lips again once more, and leaned in.

ding!

you jolted away from him and cursed yourself for putting the macarons in the oven on high so that they'd get done faster. with how everything was going along just about now, you wouldn't even give a damn if they burned or not if you could just continue for a moment more.

"ah... they're ready."

you grab your mittens and open the oven door, letting it cool down while all the steam came out and then finally grabbing it. you set them down on your counter with a proud smile.

"look, this might just be my best batch yet!"

"you really are something..."

zayne gives you a wistful smile and looks over your shoulder, nodding in approval. "you truly outdid yourself this time. they look amazing."

"and?"

"...they also smell nice."

you roll your eyes, "no silly, what's my reward?"

he pretends to think, "hm, i don't know. what should your reward be?"

a noise goes off, your alarm set for 12 am to give zayne a birthday call ringing from your phone. you glance at it and then look back at him,

"...i might just have an idea."

and he reads your mind, dipping in to kiss you without a second thought. afterall, what better way to start his birthday than a kiss?

you sway in his arms, a hand rested atop his cheek and the other on the side of his neck. he smiles into the kiss and pulls you closer, gently moving your bodies in synchronization.

you were sure you could hear his phone vibrating, no doubt on the fact that it was probably one of his colleuges calling to wish him a happy birthday. but you both knew that could wait.

he kisses you slowly and passionately, arms enveloping around you with ease. you're almost left out of breath before you pull away for a split second, until he pulls you back in again. it feels almost desperate, with how he's leaving little to no room for movement and just focusing on your presence. on your lips.

soon enough, you pull away, opting to lean your forehead against his.

"so, birthday boy, did you like your first gift?"

"i thought this was supposed to be someone's reward?"

you giggled, "i changed my mind. this was more important."

he smiles for what felt like the umpteenth time today, sighing peacefully. "does this mean i finally get to try your delicious sweets?"

"what do you mean finally? i tasted the cream inside your mouth! you stole one while i was putting the rest in the oven!"

"hm?"

"don't play dumb, i know exactly how it-!"

and he silences your fusses with one last kiss, and you couldn't help but give in to it.

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

“flu season” - hotch stops by to check on you while you’re home sick (hotch x bau!gn!reader), 1.7k words

cw; mentions of canonical violence, icky sickies, and yearning teehee

———————

You have the flu. 

You have the flu, and it hits you like a bus. 

You have the flu, and it hits you like a bus, and you hate feeling helpless, but you can’t even walk to the bathroom and back without feeling dizzy. 

There’s a waste basket by the bed, lined with a plastic grocery bag. There are four glasses of water, varying in stages of fullness, littered on the nightstand. Your blinds are open because yesterday you wanted to see the sun, but you were too exhausted later in the day to close them. 

Your phone is ringing. You’re groggy, the whole world feeling hazy and heavy, as you lift it from the space in bed beside you and see a call from your boss. When you called Hotch two days ago and told him you were ill, he was incredibly patient with you. Don’t worry about work. Get some rest, he said. Check in so we know you’re okay. Let us know if you need anything. 

You answer the phone on the last ring, and a hoarse, weak voice that is not yours exits your throat. “Hello?” 

“Y/N,” Hotch sounds relieved. Did he think you were dead or something? It’s only the stomach flu. He also never calls you by your first name, which only makes you concerned that something else is gruesomely wrong. “Did you see my calls?” 

You put him on speaker and check your call history. Aaron Hotchner has called you four times in the past six hours. You missed every single one, having drifted in and out of consciousness all day long. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t. Is everything okay?” You ask, thinking something must have happened to him or to one of your teammates. Why else would he be desperate to reach you when you’re home sick? 

“Well, you tell me,” Hotch exhales, an incredulous chuckle lining his voice. The phone muffles the sound, but you know that if you heard it in person, it would sound symphonic. “I was just checking on you, Y/N. I know you’re new to the city.” You sit up a little in bed, as if he were in front of you. “How are you feeling?” 

You run a clammy hand over your sweaty forehead. “Hot,” you blurt out. 

“Excuse me?” Hotch laughs. 

“Hot, like… like a fever. Like I’m running a…” you shake your head at yourself, resisting the urge to scream into your pillow. “Sick. I feel sick, very sick.” 

“What kind of sick?”

What kind of sick? Why would he ask you that? You lean back against the headboard and wonder if he’s trying to determine if you’re faking to get out of work, or if he’s genuinely concerned. You’ve only been with the BAU for a few months, but you feel like you’ve gotten to know everyone fairly well so far. You decide Hotch must just be genuinely concerned. You roll through your symptoms, and Hotchner clears his throat when you’re done speaking. 

“Do you feel strong enough to get to your door?” He asks.

“Huh?”

“Because I’m here. Outside your door.” 

“What?” 

Hotch lets out a breathy laugh, one that seems almost in disbelief of his own actions. “If you don’t want company, I’ll leave, but I thought you might need a hand. I’ve been sick and alone before. It’s not fun.” 

You feel your heart swell a little as you recall what Emily has told you about Hotch. You get little snippets about him from Emily, and from what you understand, he and his ex-wife were painfully separated for a while before she was murdered. You wonder if he was ever stuck at home, ill, during that period of time. 

Hotch says your surname. “Are you still there?” 

“What? Yes. Yes! I’m sorry,” you huff, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. The thought of planting your feet on the ground, however, has you already feeling nauseous. “I don’t, uh… I don’t think I can make it to the door, though,” you squeak. “There’s a spare key under the doormat. But I really look gross, Hotch. And I might be contagious. So, enter at your own risk.”

“I don’t mind, L/N. You keep a key under the - oh, yes, there it is,” you hear Hotch fumble to juggle the key and his phone, and after a moment of static - his hand over the microphone - he hangs up, and you hear the front door of your apartment creak open. “Y/N?” He calls out. 

“In here,” you croak, scrambling under the covers and desperately brushing your sweaty hair out of your eyes. 

Hotch is standing in the doorway in an instant, still in his suit and tie. You glance at your phone and conclude he must have left work directly to come here. “How do you know where I live?” You mumble as he lifts a full grocery bag. 

“Personnel file,” he shrugs. “How’s your fever?” 

You notice he’s lingering in the doorway. He’s waiting to be invited in. “You don’t have to have a warrant,” you smile weakly and beckon him into your bedroom, a lame attempt at humor. 

He exhales in amusement, and you see the smile on his face - light and mild, and you wonder, if you weren’t sick, would it have been a grin? 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Hotch says as he steps slowly into the room, taking a cold bottle of Gatorade from the grocery bag and setting it on your nightstand. He starts gathering the cups of water into one arm. 

“You don’t have to do that,” you protest, feeling embarrassed of your mess. “Hotch-“

“It’s Aaron, outside of work,” he corrects you, and you see a flash of his teeth. “And you didn’t answer my question. How’s your fever?” 

You swallow. “High? I guess?” You say dumbly. 

A warm hand is pressed against your forehead and you are once again very aware of how clammy it is. “When was the last time you took something?” He asks. 

You check the time again, then do the math in your head. “Five hours ago.” 

“Where’s your medicine?” He asked. You shift in the bed, to stand up, and Hotch - Aaron’s - hand is on your shoulder. “Stay in bed. I’ll get it. Where is it?” 

“Bathroom cabinet,” you point to the bathroom. You want to protest further. You want to apologize for the mess, to ask him why he’s doing this, to ask him if he’d do this for anyone else. But you keep your mouth shut, instead rubbing the space between your brows as the inevitable headache kicks in. 

Aaron’s quickly out of your bedroom. You hear him walk into the kitchen, a few cabinets open and shut, and then he’s in your bathroom, same thing, opening and closing a cabinet. He comes back to you with a few crackers on a plate, a fresh glass of water, and your flu medicine. 

“So, let’s talk about why you think it’s a good idea to keep a spare key under the mat,” Aaron proposes as you take the medicine. You nearly choke on the water in your mouth, but manage to down it. His face gives him away - he’s not mad, not even disappointed, just smirky. Teasing and playful were not words you would use to describe Aaron Hotchner. 

Until right now. 

You open your mouth to speak, but Aaron cuts you off. “You spend your whole week working gory murders, kidnappings, terrorist threats. You know that the key under the mat is the oldest trick in the book. Why do you do it?” He asks, leaning against the wall beside your bed. 

“You can sit, if you want?” You offer, pointing to the desk chair in the corner. “Your legs must be tired from hanging out up there on that high horse.” 

Hotch just lets a low chuckle escape him as he rolls the desk chair over. He keeps a respectful distance from your bed, but still crosses his ankles and leans back, like he’s sat there a thousand times. Like he’s somehow comfortable. He looks at you expectantly, as if to say don’t make me ask again. 

“Well,” you feel a bit sheepish, because he is right. Keeping a key under your doormat is pretty dumb. “I guess I figure, most people are smart enough to not do it, so the kidnappers and rapists would assume I would be smart enough, too, so they wouldn’t even look under the mat.” 

Aaron’s expression is priceless, and he opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. “I’ll just give a spare to someone I trust, how about that?” You suggest, knowing intuitively that the lecture was only going to continue. 

Aaron gives you a nod of approval, and you lean back against the headboard again, stifling a yawn. “I can go, if you want to rest some more?” he proffers, rising from his seat. 

“You don’t have to,” you say quickly, uncontrollably. The words were locked and loaded in your throat before you could think twice. “I mean, I’m probably going to fall asleep soon, but I wouldn’t mind the company. For a little while.” 

You wonder how visibly red your face is.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alive,” Aaron chuckles, his polite, subtle way of declining your invitation, of making sure boundaries are still intact. You know Hotchner is a rule-follower. You admire that about him. “I’ll let you get some rest,” his hand extends, as if to reach out to you. You wonder if he’s going to touch you. His hand retracts after a moment that seems to last for an eternity. 

As Aaron walks towards the bedroom door, he turns around and smiles at you. It’s a real smile. It’s soft. You want to press it like a flower petal, between two book pages, and keep it in a jar on your shelf. 

“I brought you some soup for when you feel up to eating. It’s in your refrigerator,” he says. He taps his hands against the door frame. “Feel better, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow to check on you.” 

Aaron Hotchner leaves your apartment a minute later, and you fall asleep shortly after that. Your head is still pounding, and your stomach is twisted in knots, but it’s not from the nausea. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Finer Things 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, age gap, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your mom surprises you with a visit but has a lot more in store than you could ever imagine.

Characters: Tony Stark

Note: Another sexy silverfox.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Thor loves thunder. Take care. 💖

“It will be so good to see you, honey,” you mom’s buoyant voice rings in your ear drum and you move the cell away from your ear. You make a face and catch the eyes of passerby, cringing at yourself as you veer away from the coed and continue towards your residence. 

“You too, mom,” you reply as you keep to the edge of the walk, sure to keep out of the way of students and faculty alike. 

“I have a surprise too!” She rings out. 

“Mm, you do?” You frown. The last time she had a surprise, it wasn’t really for you. Her trip to the Caribbean had you alone for your sixteenth but that was like five years ago. 

Your eyes skim the rustic colours of the curling leaves as wind whips around the collar of your coat. You plug your other hear so you can hear her voice. 

“Oh yes! It’s all really exciting. Just make sure you wear something fancy. I looked up a few local spots and this one looks very upscale,” she trills. 

That’s your mom. She spends more than she should, or has. If she had access to your trust, you wouldn’t have tuition. It’s just another part of your life that makes you feel helpless. 

“Alright, I’m sure I have something...” 

“What about all those clothes I gave you when I cleaned out my closet?” She preens. 

“Mom, I couldn’t fit them in my suitcase.” You don’t mention that you didn’t fit into them either. Your short and rounder than her. 

“Do you need money? I could send you my credit card number... one of them.” 

“It’s fine. I’ll find something,” you assure her and dodge out of the way of a group of frats. You feel so invisible. It’s like no matter what you do, no one sees you, even standing right in front of them. “I should go. It’s windy.” 

“Okay, I guess you can go,” she whines. “But I’ll see you tonight. Oh, I’ll send you the address too. Should I send an uber?” 

“Mom, please, my tuition includes a bus pass--” 

“The bus? Oh, at night?” 

“Mom,” you grit again. “Please. I’ll get there. See ya then.” 

“Alright, alright. I love you. Buh-bye.”  

You hang up and tuck your phone away, keeping your hands in your pockets as the tails of your coat flap with another chilly gust. You slope your shoulders against the autumnal temperate and hide your cheeks against your scarf. You love this time of year for the apple cider and pumpkin everything but the weather isn’t always so pleasant. 

As you get to your building, you look up at the windows. There are signs decrying the latest political frenzy and flags with varying shades of rainbow, and some stickers stuck on the panes. Your own window is barren. Just like you, your living quarters are plain. 

You let yourself in through the front door with a flash of your fob and drag your feet up the stairs. Gabourey is in the kitchen on speaker phone. You often fall asleep listening to her conversations, though you try hard not to. Racquel would be working down at the bookstore, and most times you wonder where Virgie is, she’s in her room napping. 

Your entry goes unnoticed. You hide in your dorm and put your bag on the chair by the desk. You untie your boots and carry them back to the mat. Too late, you already soaked the small patch of carpet between your bed and the desk. 

You toss your coat on your bed and go to the wooden armoire next to the sink in the corner. It isn’t much space but it’s yours. You open the doors and stare down the garments hanging inside. You favour plaid, tweed, and muted colours. The plum turtleneck would go nice with your circle skirt but it feels so stuffy. Your mom said fancy, not uptight. 

Hm. A classic black dress. Everyone has one. Even you. It’s simple. A wrap with a bow at the hip. It emphasizes your curves but doesn’t make you look bigger. You can put a necklace on with it and fight your hair for some semblance of presentability. 

It doesn’t matter much anyway, it’s just your mom. You don’t really care what other people think. She’s the one so hung up on appearances. You’ll just enjoy the free meal, if her card isn’t declined. 

💎

Your mom texts as you shove your wallet in your purse. You put your glasses on over your fresh coat of mascara and read her message. ‘Uber on it’s way for you.’ 

You huff and key in your message, ‘mom, I told you not to worry.’ 

She sees it but doesn’t answer. She never listens to anyone. Ever. It’s why you haven’t seen your own grandparents since your graduation. What a lovely day that was. 

You shrug and grab your coat. Oh well. No use in arguing now. With how quick the app is, the driver’s probably right outside. Besides, you weren’t exactly looking forward to waiting for the bus in the bitter cold. 

As you come downstairs, you get another text. In the chat, you find a screenshot of your mom’s phone, but that’s not her phone number on the confirmation screen. Or yours. Hm. 

You match the license play before you approach the car. You get in and greet the driver. He doesn’t answer you. Wow, you’re in his back seat and you still can’t get a hello. Or maybe the music’s too loud. 

You clutch your bag in your lap and watch out the window. The tension rises to an awkward strangle and when at last you reach the restaurant, you thank him. He turns down the music before you can get the door open. 

“Thanks for the tip, lady,” he says brightly. “Awesome!” 

You smile and bid him ‘you’re welcome’, rather than correcting him. Even if it’s undeserved, you’ll take it. Your mom must already have ordered some wine. Her statement must be close to its limit. 

You get out and look up at the curvy cursive of the restaurant sign. It’s fancy for sure. You cross the pavement and enter warily. You might just convince her to go somewhere else. Somewhere affordable. 

You stand around in the lobby and stare at the hostess as her eyes cling to the tablet on her podium. She taps around on the screen and ignores you. Is she? Or does she just not know you’re there? You clear your throat and step up. 

“Um, hi, I’m meeting someone here. I think they’ve arrived but, er, yeah,” you grip your phone tight, “Joyce.” 

“Joyce,” she squints and checks her screen. You give your last name but she still can’t find it. 

“One second,” you back up as a couple enters and you pull up the chat. 

You frantically text your mom; ‘I’m here but they don’t have your name.’ 

The checkmark goes blue but she doesn’t answer. The bubble doesn’t even pop up to show she’s typing. Your stomach swirls and you look around. The couple is shown into the dining room by a server as the hostess looks at you. You can feel her judgement. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” a man appears in a suit, “I think my guest is here. Young thing--” 

The man pauses and you look up. Your heart picks up in recognition. It’s him. Tony Stark. The Tony Stark. Billionaire, engineer, generous donour to the university. He smirks at you. 

“There she is,” he heads for you and you shake your head. 

“Oh no, not me--” 

He says your name and you choke on your tongue. You touch your collar and shake your head. He chuckles. 

“Sorry, did I scare ya?” He beams at you. “Your mom’s holding the table.” 

“My mom--” you stammer. 

“Come on.” He beckons you with his hand, the flash of his expensive  

“Mr. Stark, did you need anything for the table?” The hostess asks. 

“I’m good, sweetheart,” he winks and keeps his arm extended to you. 

“Alright, well if you do, ask for Chelsea.” 

He laughs again and waves you close. You walk to him in shock. 

“Actually, Chelsea, her coat,” he says. 

He surprises you as he unbuttons your jacket himself. You just stand there. He pushes it back on your shoulders and you squeak. You turn to let him free your arms and he hands the wool over to the hostess. 

“There we go,” he purrs. 

You step away and cross your arms defensively. He bends his elbow and looks at you expectantly, “come on.” 

You hesitate but step forward. He grabs your wrist before you can react and hooks your arm through his. You still can’t believe it’s him. Or that he’s there with your mom. This is her surprise? How the hell does she wander into these things? 

You let him lead you into the dining room. Despite the lingering nip of the fall in your cheek, sweat forms on the back of your neck and speckles your scalp. You look around and find at least a dozen pairs of eyes watching you in turn. 

Stark leads you to a booth where your mom wiggles on the bench. She shimmies out from behind it and throws her arms up. Your escort releases you, brushing between your hand and your skirt, and your mom wraps you up in a hug. She rocks you with a squeal. 

“Honey! I missed you.” 

“Mom,” you groan. 

“Joyce, please, give the girl a moment,” Stark chuckles, “come on, let’s settle in. I’m getting a bit peckish.” 

You eagerly take his lead. You nod as your mom lets you go and you keep your eyes on the table. You slide in next to your mom as she sits. 

“Wine?” Stark offers as he lifts the bottle already on the table. 

“Erm, I don’t--” 

“She’d love some,” your mom answers, “don’t let me have all of that or I might regret it in the morning.” 

You force a smile at her joke. The undertone gives you an ick but you ignore it. Stark pours the glass. 

“We haven’t formally been introduced,” he says as he plunks the bottle down, “Tony Stark.” 

“Mr. Stark,” you take his hand as he offers it and shake it, “nice to meet you.” 

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he slithers the cliche and squeezes your hand before letting go. 

You retract and cradle your fingers in your lap. You’re burning with surprise and confusion still. You glance at your mom. 

“Your mom says you came straight from school, smartie pants,” he grins. “I’m honoured you came all this way.” 

“Um, not that far.” 

“You go to Keating,” he prompts. 

“Yes, er, you spoke there--” 

“I did,” he agrees quickly. “Back in the fall. You were there?” 

“Um, ha, yeah,” you twist your fist around your finger. “I-- It was busy, you probably don’t remember but me and my roommate came to the meet and greet. She got your signature.” 

“Oh, she did? But you didn’t?” 

“Erm, no, I didn’t have VIP,” you show your teeth sheepishly, “sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he waves off your apology. “You get a whole night with me.” 

Your mother giggles and puts her hand on his arm, “so, you like your surprise?” 

“Uh, surprise?” You echo thinly. “Sure, uh... I... feel like I’m crashing.” 

“Not at all.” Stark insists. 

“Thanks, Mr. Stark, er--” 

“Please, it’s Tony,” he says. “My father’s Mr. Stark and he’s a jackass at that.” 

You laugh, more nervous than amused. Your mom rubs his arm and leans into him, “you’re so funny, Ton.” 

“So I’ve been told,” he agrees but his eyes don’t leave you. 

You shift and peer around the restaurant. You already feel out of place here but with him, you’re even more uncertain. A clink brings your attention back to the table. 

“Come on, let’s loosen up,” he taps his glass against yours, “cheers.” 

“Cheers!” Your mother quickly scoops up her glass and knocks it against his. 

His smirk stays etched in his lips as he sips and you pick up your glass. You drink cautiously and squirm under his intense gaze. You wish he’d look away. Look at her! She’s the one you’re here for. 

[murdrdocs]

doing this off anon because i’m simply unhinged but - ghostface!luke doing it to fuck with you when he’s mad…

like you beat the hermes cabin in capture the flag or sumn,, and the first time it happens you wait for him in the woods to meet up after everyone’s in their bunks. and you hear rustling behind you and suddenly there’s a knife to your throat and he messes with you for a while with the mask until you find out it’s him.

and then he gets addicted to the fear in your eyes and the crying he saw and so he keeps doing it 😩 somewhere out there is a picture where luke is pulling your hair with the camera flash on like the tiktok trend im SCREECHING please

cw dark content; ghostface!luke; suggestive content MDNI 18+

the energy of the vengeance coursing through his veins is so electric that it's a wonder you can't feel it.

luke figures it's because you're stuck in your ego. in your glory. it's practically radiating off of you, momentarily protecting you from what pumps through him, meddled with the blood and ichor to create something dangerous.

but he's not here to seriously hurt you. no matter how many times he has to remind himself. he just needs to put you in your place. to remind you that this win was singular, and another won't be following it. with you, there's no better way to do that than to strike fear deep into your core.

it takes a second for it to reach you.

when luke purposefully steps onto a branch, and you turn to face him, he's only met with brief shock. then, like the overcompensating brat that he knows you to be, you laugh in his face to hide your fear.

"what's with the getup?" you gesture to the mask and gloves, amusement in your eyes but luke can see the way the corners of your lips tug down just a bit.

he doesn't say anything, tilting his head and watching on as you ramble to yourself.

"here to scare me? how'd you know i was out here anyway. unless..." you take a step closer, squinting your eyes. "luke?" your smile turns bigger, more genuine.

"knew you were a little weirdo but i didn't suspect this. what, are we gonna do it in the getup? am i gonna be your helpless victim? are you gonna make me beg for my life?"

you get closer and closer to him as you speak. eventually, you reach a hand up and attempt to lift his mask, but he catches you.

"luke?" you ask. he shakes his head, and it's then that the fear starts to set in.

you don't have time to react before luke has you spun around, your hand locked behind your back and your chest pressed up against the rough bark of a tree.

you wince. "ow, luke. you're hurting me," you tell him, trying to wedge yourself out of his grip but this is always one position you couldn't figure out the escape for when you would spar with luke.

he has you at his mercy. and before he'll let you go, he has to play with you for a while.

when the cold and sharp metal of a knife presses against the pure skin of your cheek, you flinch away, only to be stopped by luke forcibly nudging his crotch into your backside to remind you that when he's here, you're not going anywhere.

he hears your sniffles, and he briefly wishes he could see the tears glide down your face. but there's something more perversely addictive about only being able to hear you and not see you. something that makes luke's cock twitch within the confines of his cargo pants.

you're starting to plead, telling him that there's someone coming out to meet you. that he's big and strong and the best swordsman around and he could end your assailant in less than a minute. luke wants to laugh at the irony, and eventually he can't hold it in.

he does. he laughs right in your ear as he lets the knife slip a little and he slices a thin line against your cheek, watching the blood gather from behind the eye slits in the mask before he finally decides to show you mercy.

"not so big and bad now, are we?"

[anxious-witch]

Okay, so this is likely be long so buckle up. Let's talk about how the height and position of characters affects the story and shows us where they are emotionally or in regards to characters they interact with.

This is the most prominent with three characters, which are Edwin, Charles and the Cat King. But! I will do my best to touch upon the rest as well if anyone finds this interesting.

Considering I briefly touched upon how Charles and his dad have a similar hunched stance, let's start with Charles.

Also TW for talk of abuse and violence, since I do touch upon his relationship with his dad and abuse in general.

Charles is fascinating because he is one character that seems to constantly make himself smaller, either on the same level as the other character he is next to, or sometimes even make himself smaller than them.

This is especially visible next to Edwin, who always holds himself perfect straight and poised. Even in the above picture, where he is slightly leaning back for the dramatic effect, Charles is still hunched down more. With Crystal, yes, he is generally taller, but anytime he can, he does his best to lean down so they are on the eye-level.

This has dual purpose-both because Charles wants to be as non threatning as possible and because he often tries to sympathize with people, to quite literally understand their point of view.

Charles is the tallest character in the series, which I think has a weight on it's own. At first, I was under the impression Edwin was taller, bc of Charles' hunching, but Charled is just slightly taller. He is a protector, he is a brawn, and he tries his best to make himself as small as possible.

We also see that in scenes where he is "beanth" the person he is interacting with, usually happens when is emotionally distressed and/or feels powerless in a situation

The first time it happens in Devlin's house, when he is sitting on the stairs while Edwin and Crystal are standing. This is also right before he snaps and tries to hit the murderous father of the family, actively showing the turmoil he has been going through. Because that's what Charles does. He can't stand being helpless. His feeling below the problems he is facing is symbolized through him sitting on the stairs and he can't stand it any longer so he acts, quite rashly, just to disperse that feeling.

But then, what happens? He gets knocked to the floor, even lower than he was before. And he remains there, frozen.

Stuck in a loop of feeling helpless while being on the stairs, trying to take action and being knocked down even lower. What a metaphor for being stuck in an abusive loophole! Feeling like any time you try to stand up for yourself, any time you try to take action to not feel so helpless, you get into an even worse position. And then, in the end, it's Edwin and Crystal who have to help him out of the loop and who help him back on his feet.

We see him again in a position where amother character is not only above him, but actively lookming over him in a scene with his dad. Moreso, this is one instance where Charles doesn't take this position willingly, but rather, his dad literally knocks him down to the floor and starts beating him.

I think it's also sooo interesting how Charles' mom and the Night Nurse are positioned here. The Night Nurse stands above both Charles and his dad, all prim and proper. Completely unfeeling and separate from the whole picture.

Meanwhile, Charles' mom is above all of them, barely seen in the doorway, but still watching and she is crying. And while I know Charles loves his mom and understands she was likely also abused, I do wonder if this represents his view on both his parents. His dad, who is close but hurts him, who Charles would be on the same level with, if he wasn't constabtly knocked down. And his mom, who is above all that, almost like some sort of holy figure, but still suffering on Charles behaf.

Third time I noticed Charles being in a position where someone is above him was in a scene where Crystal is packing to go back to London, after getting her memories back.

Charles feels both emotionally vulnerable and helpless to stop her. Because he wants her to do what's best for her, but he also clearly doesn't want her to leave. The important part is that here, despite his clear emotional turmoil, Charles doesn't react directly. I believe he offers her his help, to come with her, but he doesn't insist. Which is a big change to the previous instance where we seem him in such position.

I am sure there are more scenes like these, these are just the ones I noticed. But! Shall we look at when does Charles stand full upright and shows how tall he really is?

Spoiler-When he is feelings brave

Framing is also very important and very deliberate. I'll touch more on this in Edwin's analysis, but you'll notice how most of the time, Edwin is always framed as the taller and biggest, either by height or because he is the closest to the camera. But no in the scene where he and Charles talk about Edwin's supposed feelings about Monty. No-it's Charles who is closer to the camera, because Edwin is the one being emotionally vulnerable. Charles holds the power to either lift up or crush Edwin here. And he is very aware of it.

And fulled by that power, by the fact Edwin opened up to him, Charles stands up tall. And when he reaches Edwin, they are practically the same height. Perfectly balanced, in the wake of Charles' acceptance.

In the scene with the Night Nurse, we see Charles practically flaunting his height. Which is in line with him essentially telling her to take him, but to leave Edwin alone. The point is, not only is he fully showing off his power and consciously or not, trying to intimidate the Night Nurse, but he is also shielding Edwin that way. Look at me, not him. I am the one you should feel threatened by, not him.

And of course. Of course. One scene, where Charles is actively above someone else, where he is higher, both in height and positioning?

In hell, during, Edwin's confession.

In an interview from the actors in this post, they actually touched upon this scene and how Charles being above Edwin on the starway was intentional, because Edwin is feeling very emotionally vulnerable.

He is in an submissive position(do not make the sex joke) to Charles here. He is opening himself up for a rejection and Charles is the one with all the power here. Which in and off itself is powerful, but for Charles? The character who constantly shrinks himself down as not to make anyone uncomfortable and threatened, who constantly gets knocked down in a fight by others?

Charles is terrified of being in a more powerful position due to his dad, because what if he turns out to be the same when he is in such a position?

But instead, he uses that power to be kind. He can't return Edwin's feelings, but he can reassure him he cares for him and that they have time to figure this out. And that is what turns Charles' shirt red again. Not only the fact that he is loved, despite all his flaws, but also the fact that proved to himself that he would never knock down the person being vulnerable, even when he hold all the power.

I exceeded picture limit on mobile, but in a scene on the rooftop wjere Edwin tries to apologize if him confessing created any tension between them and Charles reassure him that it did not, they are on the same height again.

Charles is sitting on an wall, so he is elevated, but he all curled up, so he comes on around the same hight as Edwin who is standing. Equals, once again, despite completely different stances.

I believe that's all I have to say on the topic of Charles in this context, lmk if I forgot smth or if anyone has anything to add, I love hearing other ppl's takes too!

[pedge-page]

omg imagine PK x Plushies i love you so much girl you are amazing

Plushies x Piss Kink Crossover - Joel Miller x F!Reader

Notes: The crossover that was bound to happen and its HEREREEEEEEEE. This is more Plushies!verse setting and they discover a lil piss kink.

Warnings: PissKink, Plushies humping, yes we are peeing on the plush, premature ejaculation, assisted male masturbation, crying, jealous!Joel, and a HINT (just a bit) of sub!Joel at the end

18+ ONLY

- - - -

“What’s this one? Benny the Buffalo?” Joel asks, staring down at the brown fuzzy stuffed animal in his hands.

“No, dummy, that’s Biscuit, the Bison,” you retort, not even looking at him as you continue reading.

The two of you are lying down on your new “shared” bed, and Joel has decided its time he get to know his roommates on first name basis.

“Course. And this?” He snatches the white rabbit next. “BunBun?”

“Carrot.”

“Appropriate. How about Ghosty over here?”

“Casper.”

“How original. Aaaannnddd....?” He shoves the next one in your face to get your attention: a fat baby chick with an enormous orange bill.

“Mr Quakers,” you answer matter-of-factly.

“I bet he’s loads of fun on that little nub of yours,” he snickers. He tosses the poor chick like a free-throw basketball across the room.

He grabs the next one, buried waaaay in the back of your bed under all the rest. “Alright, Let me guess… Hammy the Hamster.”

“No that’s—“ you take one look at the one currently in his palms: a medium sized hamster with bitty hands and a large head as big as his squat body. Quickly hiding your shocked expressions, you go back to your book and say very casually, “Um…that’s… Frank.”

“Frank?”

“Mhm.”

“Just Frank.”

“Yup.”

“Frank the Hamster. How does that make sense?”

“Well I didn’t name him.”

“And who did?"

You swallow, wondering why Joel’s got so many goddamn questions about the naming conventions of your stuffed animals. “Um … Frank did…”

“Stuck up fella, naming the thing after him. Who was this “Frank” then. Your uncle? Was he as perverted as me?”

“No. Frank’s… my ex.”

Your face feels hot, avoiding his gaze and trying to look anywhere but at him. 

Joel stares at you with an unreadable expression, then back to the fisted squishy hamster plush. He contemplates for what feels like an eternity. There’s an uneasy silence hanging in the air, and your heart is beating out of your chest, wondering what he may be thinking about those word resonating in his ears.

He clenches his jaw, gritting his teeth into diamonds while looking at something so extremely soft and huggable. You hope maybe he’ll just dropkick it out the window at worst, but instead: 

“Hands and knees on the floor. We’re fucking Frankie the Hamster tonight.”

-

There was no “we”. What he really meant was YOU are fucking Frank the Hamster tonight, and he is pinning you down and forcing you to grind on it harder.

“Joel—that—feels… uncomfortable.”

He’s not rubbing his cock along your ass, or nudging your clit or kissing you. Instead, he’s caged you between the thick mass of his sold body and the hamster on the floor, your legs spread out with his knees along the inside of your calves to keep them open.

He keeps rubbing along your pelvis, palm digging into the squishy part right below your belly, pressing hard against your bladder.

“Joel,” you warn again. Your legs quiver with the rapid build, too afraid to push him off entirely. He’s steaming, that’s for sure, but why torture you above the little helpless guy?

“S’matter? You don’t like rubbing your slutty pussy over your ex’s face?”

“It’s just a stuffed animal—ow!” You cry as Joel pinches your nipple through your shirt.

“You grind on Frankie’s face before?”

“N-no. Never,” you swear. 

“Mmm. Not sure I believe you, sweet pea. Kept him all these years, didn’t ya?”

You shake your head, too afraid to face him. You really hadn’t been grinding on the hamster ever. In fact, you nearly forgetting of his existence until Joel fished him up while asking everyone’s name. 

He forces your back to arch even more drastically, putting more pressure between your naked cunt and the soft squish bellow you. You furrow your brows, fear creeping between your spread legs, unable to clench against something to brush off the mounting pressure in you.

“Joel please—I really need to go...” you didn't want to finish the sentences. He wasn't pleasuring with his hands you in the right places so much as building pressure in the wrong one.

“Go where? I’m all you need. Right. Here.” His fingers dig possessively into your side while his other hand pushes into your lower belly.

You shake your head again. Heart racing now that you no longer care about your pleasure and are more concerned with the mess of forbidden bodily fluids you’re about to rain all over your poor Frankie—

It hits you with burning desire mixed with an irksome bile. You gasp out angrily. 

This. Mother. Fucking. Asshole.

Joel smirks into your neck behind you, as if reading your mind figuring out his evil little plan. 

“S’wrong, angel? Would you rather be doing this with any of MY plushies I’ve spoiled you with?”

“I—you—“ you grit your teeth, eyes closing as a wave of panic washes deep through your core. You’re desperate not to make a mess, a fool of yourself to tame his sadistic need to own every inch of control over you.

He hears the little staggered pants from your lips. “Do it,” he commands softly but with finality, laced with a sadistic “win” for him.

A tear slips down your cheek as you moan sadly, your stomach giving up and unclenching as the walls of your bladder breaks, and hot urine spills into the stuffed animal’s face currently wedged so tightly against your entrance. 

“Shhhhhh,” he coos, finally grinding himself against your ass. He can hear the feint rushing liquid of your piss splatting into the cotton. 

He presses you further into its plush softness, suffocating every inch of your crotch so that it absorbs all the nasty warm juice squeezing out of you like a lemon. Your legs quiver violently as you can’t help but release more and more, flowing out as if by his demand and feeling the poor plush get heavy with the rush filling its cotton innards up.

"Naughty girl, am I making you piss all over your ex's face? Little Frankie doesn't deserve that does he?" He taunts, fully well intending for this to exactly happen as he wanred.

There’s so much, and another tear slips passed you, but this one because it feels so—relieving. It’s gross and nasty, embarrassing and heartbreaking all at once, and it makes you hump against him and the dampened hamster even more. 

Joel feel the quickened breaths coming out desperately from your nose as you grind down on the defiled thing all soaked up with your own piss. Your hips are frantic, smothering your cunt with the piss-logged plush desperately, as if you were trying to...

“Shit—are you…?”

You cry out in response, mouth agape with satisfied groans when you clit catches along the wet seams just right and you find yourself cumming on the sad wet thing drowned below you.

Joel clears his throat in surprise. His cock pulses on its own and floods the inside of his pants in white strings of his seed.

Did he think you would probably cry? Yes.

Did he want you to pee and destroy your ex’s little gift to you? Yes.

Did he expect you to fucking cum from it? Um.

Did he know HE would cum from it??? No. Definitely not. 

His teeth grind against one another trying not to think about how perverted he is, pulling away from you so you can’t feel his sticky spent through his trousers and on to your back. 

The squishy lump below you begins seeping the now cooled piss into the floor boards. You sigh deeply, not sure what to do now that your little punishment has turned into—something wilder.

You feel a gentle kiss along your cheek, his thumb caressing away your tears.

“That was hot,” He admits plainly.

You cover your face to hide your smile. It’s gross. It really is. Should be embarrassing. You don’t even want to think about the hamster on the floor, the memories you’ve just soddened with your own fucking piss. 

He helps you off the floor. Your thighs still shake, the uncomfortable feeling hanging there in disgust now that you’re mentally sober again.

He guides you to the shower where you both wash up quietly.

“Um—listen I didn’t… I don’t know why you would keep your ex’s stuff but…I mean I’m reasonably… it doesn’t make me feel great, so ya can’t blame me, for getting jealous—“

You shut him up but tugging against his half hard cock.

“First of all,” you say, the sudden boldness in your voice blanking his mind into submission under your touch.

“That plush, was from my first boyfriend—in high school. We dated for 2 months,” you continued, your fingers gripping his base with a gentle squeeze, feeling him swell to full mass, “and then he realized he liked boys. That was it. We laughed about it and stayed good friends. He gave me the stuffed animal as a parting gift to college for helping him through it all.”

You stop rubbing his cock and Joel opens his eyes. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“So…Frank’s just… a friend…”

You kiss his collarbone. “Just a friend,” you repeat.

The water coats his back soothingly. An ache that had formed in his muscles, the strain of aggression tickling his brain from the minute he heard you had a stuffed animal named after your ex, still in your bed after years, had suddenly vanished. 

“Why—why would you say hes your ex and not just your old friend? Why'd ya let me make you do that to it?” He asks, concerned now that he’s ruined something sentimental to you over his quickness to jealousy.

“Because—“ you nip along the swell of his chest, both hands working along his hardened cock. “You wanted it.” Your thumb swipes along his tip, the precum feeling sticky despite the shower water drenching you. 

He moans, head falling into your shoulder as he thrusts his length into your palm. 

As your wrist continues to jerk him off, your lips ghost the shell of his ear with a deadly, lascivious whisper: 

“And I’m too crazy for you to say no.”

- - - -

Permanent Taglist

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee

[serxinns]

LoveFever~

Older! Yandere class 1a x reader

Summary: In which you have a fever and your caring and overbearing amazing pro heroes help you feel better!

Inspiration: @lady-ashfade (check out her newest fic it's so cool!)

"Seems like the cold got worse fuck..." you lie in your bed staring at the client your body felt heavy and your body feels like an oven but your room was usually cold you weakly raised your arm to where you can see it and waved it around slowly and rubbed your eyes your forehead, Shirt and hair was covered in sweat you felt like shit honestly but that's you had a job to do and that was heroism!

You got up careful to not do it quickly to cause more dizziness and dragged yourself to the bathroom you usually hate cold showers but your body was so hot you just needed one so you took a shower, it was unpleasant and discomforting even but it lowered your fever a little bit (author here and I recommend you to not take a cold shower while you have a fever please it could make it worse thank you) you dragged yourself into your closet and got out the spider suit you struggled to get it on you almost fell but managed to get it on you didn't care to make lunch like you usually do you'll just have to suck it up or just find a nearby cafe on your break

You wobbly stumbled down the steps holding on to the rails for dear life until you reached the door where Sero was about to knock "Hey bud! Your 30 minutes and-woah are you okay?.." Sero stopped to look at you his eyes filled with concerned "I-Its nothing Just a *Cough* *Cough* Cold" you said struggling to hold back your coughs zero didn't believe anything at all "Darling you have a fever and you're not taking it well at all you need rest!" "No! im fine I promise it's just a cold that's making me a bit dizzy and sweaty no biggie I've dealt with much worse this is just a pinch now let's go" You tried walking passed Sero but he blocked your doorway not moving a inch with a serious look on his face

"Y/n you're sick very sick it's my day off anyway I can take care of you" "No im *Sneezing* Fine! No *Coughs* weak virus is gonna make me *Coughs* stay home" You broke into coughing fits and that was when Sero had enough "Yep that's it you staying home" he began as he picked you up burial style ignoring your protests he took off your hero costume and tossing it to the side where all you have left was a t-shirt and some shorts he gently laid you down on your bed pulling the covers over you "comfy?" "Fuck you"

During his stay sero has taken extra care of you making sure you take your medication (He had to force your mouth open to take the nasty medicine cause u wouldn't budge but don't worry he gave you water) whenever you feel like throwing up he quickly grabs either the trash can or carries you to the bathroom to throw up while gently rubbing your back and cooing you he hates to admit it but seeing you weak and helpless makes the heart race he wants to be the one to take care of you like this to comfort you when you have days like these and baby you he knows your a very strong and dependable hero but he can't help but wonder what how dependable you might be for him

That was until he heard banging at the door he snapped out of his thoughts and grumbled to himself "I'll be right back make sure to eat your soup" You stuck your tongue out and gave him the middle finger which he chuckled when he opened the door he could see Ochako, Kirishima, Denki, sato, Iida, Izuku, shoto, and momo all standing there "Uh can I help y-" "Wheres y/n!" hakagure cut off his sentence he could tell that she was glaring at him but he didn't care "they're fine we're just having a hang out at his house now will you excuse me they said they just want ME to hang out with him" sero lied with a stern and serious tone "Oh yeah then why can't we see them then?" Ochako glared at him not taking Sero's bullshit zero was about to tell her off until fits of coughs were heard across the room everyone quickly ran past Sero and uninvitedly went into your room

They saw you with a bunch of tissues on the bed and a you trying to eat the soup "uh hey guys when did you get here"

Cue the drama

"Sick?! why didn't you tell us you were sick?!" momo said feeling your forehead with her hand and getting out her thermometer while Ochako was trying to get in your bed to cuddle you to make you feel better Kirishima was trying to make you drink his protein shake saying "It helped you get more manly" while seek was trying to urge them out saying you don't need this iida in the other hand was trying to control everyone and trying to calm down the situation but it's just creates more yelling

Sato was in your kitchen making you a "get well fever" cake in your kitchen, while Izuku was trying to look up recipes and house remedies to help you get better shoto was giving you ice pack after ice pack reassuring you that you'll be ok in his care, everyone was all over the place bickering at each other about what where they doing was wrong and what they were doing was for the best of your health and you were just getting tired of this that was when the small bickering turned into a whole argument

"They need me to take care of them you don't know what you're doing!" momo yelled out in union

"What do you mean you're the one trying to hog them not letting us know that they're sick!" hakagure argued back

"Oh please like you could do anything I bet I could make y/n better less then a day!"

"like you could do any My protein tea mixed with protein powder could make them all better in a minute!" kiri butted in

"You all need to stop fighting your gonna make them have a headache" iida said with his chopping motion

"Yea so inviting yourself in was a good idea?" shoto said

"You did the exact same thing shoto" izuku said while looking so done with everyone's shit

The arguing soon was rising making your headache worse so you crawled under the covers and buried your head under the pillows while arguing sero was 1st noticed this and realized enough was enough so he sneaked into your room while the others were arguing and quietly shut the door and locked it "Mi amor..?" he quietly said and seconds later your head slowly sprout up your nose stuffed up and your hair was messier then ever you looked so tired and miserable it broke his heart

"Mi Amor I am so sorry I shouldn't have been arguing like this in the 1st place I promise im gonna fix this ok?" too tired to even protest that it was his fault as well you just wanted the yelling to stop so you slowly nodded your head and he softly smiled, you point to your dresser where the pain pills were at and got some tissues from the bathroom in your room you took the pills and helped you blow your nose soon enough the pill made you drowsy and knocked you out pretty quick sero ruffled your hair and went out the room to handle some business

"SH" Sero whispered harshly as everyone stopped what they were doing "While you were bickering and arguing about who's better I helped them get to sleep and they ordered me to tell you to get out only but me" Everyone gawked at the statement and tried to argue again but quickly shut their mouth only realizing that your sleeping in the other room "but we need to go check on them they need-" "They don't need anyone help mochiko you all "helped" enough now it's time for you to leave you're happy to give them a get well gift but that's it" "And what makes you think we'll leave," izuku said glaring at the dark-haired boy he only shrugged "How about we all settle this in a fight ONLY outside" sero's grin grew wider while the others look at him and at each other "Deal whoever wins gets to take care of y/n for the rest of the day" Momo grinned confidently that she'll be able to win your heart and affection

And now a bunch of pro heroes are fighting in your front yard and you just peacefully sleeping with your favorite plush ochako gifted you

Nobody won the fight because Bakugo was sent there to stop a commotion at your neighbor so he was already worried and ready to kill anyone who dared to mess with you but all he sees is a bunch of pro heroes fighting on your front lawn needless to say they all got scolded and was harshly sent home by bakugo and when he heard you were sick as well?! Oh hell No! How could those pests fight over something so stupid when poor little you are suffering from a weak virus when everyone was sent home he went into your house and made sure to take care of you the PROPER way he fixed you some tea his mom made when he was sick as a kid and some of his famous chicken soup and waited for you to wake you up while he sat by your bed

but you had other plans when you thought his lap was pillows so you lazily crawled yourself over and slept on them he was flushed he wanted to shout and insult you to get up but he suddenly had an evil grin on his face and decided to take a picture with you laying down on his lap his fingers tangled between your hair and decided to post it on a secret group chat they still used today for crazy sheingains and gushing about you and let's say they were all PISSED

everyone was hurling insults at Bakugo making him laugh mina was jealous that she wasn't there to see you and take care of you Denki and Kirishima were whining calling Bakugo unfair and mean when behind the screen both were glaring jealously at their phones jirou and tsuyu was bit sad she couldn't come but was secretly cropping the photo with your sleeping face as their new wallpaper

Bonus: when you woke up bakugo demanded you to eat his soup to make you feel better and you were now spammed by worried-obsessed fans and angry and jealous Pro Hero 1a spamming your phone

[minminyoonjii]

Yay! I was wondering if I could request something like very little!reader needing a diaper, but they are embarrassed and won't wear one, and how the different caregivers would convince their little to wear it? Thank you!

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

🧡Stray Kids Scenarios Masterlist

🌹CW

Wholesome|Domestic Settings|Gender Neutral! Reader|Crying|Diapers|Hurt/Comfort|Fluffy|Tooth Rotting Sweet

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 1.3K

Bang Chan

"Look, baby. It has pretty patterns on it," he said, holding the diaper up. You crossed your legs, "No!" you exclaimed, your cheeks burning red from embarrassment. Chan sighed, patting your tummy, "I know it's a new experience for you, little one. And I know it's going to feel odd but you've been slipping into a younger headspace these days. Daddy's just worried you might feel too helpless without the diaper," he said, kissing your forehead. "I'm big enough," you murmured, nibbling on your bottom lip. Chan chuckled softly, "Baby, you're far from big. You're Daddy's little one. And little ones like you need your diaper. It's not something to be ashamed of, Daddy swears on Wolfie," he said, holding Wolfchan to his chest. You reluctantly uncross your legs, "Can I just try it on first?" you murmured, feeling exposed and vulnerable. Chan smiled, "Of course, baby. Daddy always knows what you need," he said, putting your feet through the holes. "Up," Chan said, asking you to lift your hips. You did as told and squirmed, the diaper coaxing your mind into a familiar haze.

Lee Minho

"Cupcake, it's time," Minho said, carrying you out of the crib. You whined, trying to swat him with your mitten hands. Minho cooed, removing your pacifier, "Mama bought you kitty diapers," he said, showing you the design. You gulped, not wanting to wear it, "Hhgh," you whined, trying to swat him again. Minho clicked his tongue, "Cupcake, we discussed this before. Little ones' like you can't hold their bladder. How many times did you wake Mama up because of an accident, hm?" he asked, removing the clasps on your onesie. You sniffled, rubbing your eyes with the mittens. Minho sighed, blowing raspberries into your tummy. Forcing giggles past your lips. He chuckled, "You'll get used to it, cupcake. Mama knows you'll like it eventually," he said, laying the diaper beneath you and taping it up.

Seo Changbin

"Agi-ah. Stop hiding from Baba," he called out, looking around for you. "Don't wanna!" you exclaimed before covering your mouth. Changbin chuckled and made his way to the closet, "Aigo, uri agi. It's dusty in there," he said, carrying you out. You whined, laying your head on his shoulders, "No want diaper. Diaper uncomfy," you grumbled, puffing your cheeks. Changbin bit back a smirk, "How would you know, hm? You didn't even try it yet," he said, laying you on the changing mat. You crossed your arms, "Just know!" you retorted, squinting at him. Changbin wiped you down, "It's going to be the softest thing you wear. Baba promise," he said, dusting powder on your sensitive parts. You laid pliant, letting him put your feet in the correct holes. Changbin smiled, "Good job, agi-deul," he cooed, pulling it up your waist. He was right, it was the softest thing you wore.

Hwang Hyunjin

"Lovely, you need to wear a diaper if we're going out," he said, putting his hands on his waist. You stuck your tongue at him, "No diaper!" you exclaimed, crossing your arms. Hyunjin exhaled deeply, "Fine. Then Papa and Kkami will go out without you," he said, forgetting he shouldn't be petty with you. Tears spilt down your cheeks, and wails echoed within the house. Hyunjin's breath hitched, "Oh my pretty love. Papa didn't mean it, lovely. Papa just wants you to wear a pretty diaper so that he can go out with you," he whimpered, pulling you close to his chest. You burrowed into his hold, "But it's embarrassing," you whined, rubbing your tears on his shirt. Hyunjin kissed your forehead, "Every little one wears a diaper when they go out. All the big kids will say you did a good job for wearing it, lovely," he said, rocking you. "Only if it's a pretty one," you grumbled, giving in. Hyunjin chuckled, kissing your nose, "Only the prettiest for the prettiest little love," he said, lifting you up.

Han Jisung

"Appa!" you sobbed, forcing Jisung out of the shower. He stumbled out of the bathroom with a skimpy towel that barely covered him properly, "Sweetheart!?" he called out, following your cries. Tears streamed down your cheek like a broken pipe, your shirt drenched from tears and drool. Jisung felt his heartache, "Sweetie," he whispered, carrying you up when he noticed your damp shorts. "Ah," he sighed, chuckling softly when he realized your distress. Jisung carried you to the bathroom, "You're lucky Appa wasn't done in the shower," he said, undressing you. Soft sniffles echoed within the bathroom. Jisung cooed and gave you a good cleanup, "It's about time, you wear a diaper, sweetheart," he said, kissing your nose. You shook your head, "But diapers for tiny littles," you murmured, rubbing your sleepy eyes. Jisung smiled, "You're that tiny little, sweetie. Appa will put the diaper on properly. You don't have to worry about accidents or rashes anytime soon," he reassured, stroking your hair.

Lee Felix

You rubbed your eyes, stirring awake when Felix smiled down at you. "Wakey, wakey, sunshine," he said, stroking your hair. You furrowed your eyebrows at his odd behaviour, "Mommy?" you whispered, wondering if you were looking at a skinwalker. Felix chuckled, pushing down the side of the crib, "It's me, sunbeam," he said, unwrapping your burrito-tucked body. You stretched out of confines, feeling comfy. Felix turned your body towards him, your legs dangling off the sides of the crib, "Do you know what day it is today?" he asked, setting baby powder, rash cream and a diaper next to you. "No!" you exclaimed after realizing what it was. Felix nuzzled his face into your tummy, "Yes!" he retorted, kissing your belly button. You whined, trying to squirm away from him. "Not so fast, little sunbeam. You promised me you'd give it a chance," he said, undressing your lower half. You jutted your bottom lip, "Hmph," you sulked, glaring at him. Felix smiled, "You'll get your brownie milkies if you do," he said, knowing you couldn't deny it. You grumbled but allowed him to put the diaper on you.

Kim Seungmin

"Munchkin, if you keep running around nude I will tell your Mama," he warned, making you halt your feet. "Not Mama," you said, glaring at him. Seungmin smirked, "Yes Mama," crossing his arms. You reluctantly went towards him. "Good munchkin," he said, dressing you up. You flinched when you heard the familiar sound of tape being opened, "No diaper!" you exclaimed, trying to escape his hold. Seungmin groaned but held you firm, "Yes diaper," he said, pampering kisses to distract you. Giggles spilt from your lips, "It tickles," you gasped, squirming. Seungmin chuckled, strapping you in the diaper, "That wasn't so hard now was it?" he teased, loosening his hold. You tried to kick it off but it didn't work. Seungmin grinned, proud of himself, "Munchkin it's better for you to have it on," he said, placing a loud smooch on your cheek. You grumbled but eventually fell asleep with the diaper on.

Yang Jeongin

"Angel, something just came in the mail," he said, opening it up. You snapped out of your headspace, "Wait!" you exclaimed behind your pacifier. "Eh?" Jeongin said, taking out a pack of reusable diapers. Blush burned your cheeks, "Ninnin," you mumbled, fidgeting with your plush. Jeongin chuckled, ruffling your hair, "Do you want to try it on, angel?" he asked, stroking your cheeks. You gulped, looking up at him. Jeongin cooed, carrying you easily, "Come on, angel. Ninnin will help you in them," he said, laying you on the couch. You covered your face with your plush, "I bought them for aesthetics," you mumbled, ashamed of your need. "Tsk, tsk. Angel these are in your size and it'd be a waste for aesthetics. Don't you want to try them? Ninnin wants to see his little angel in their diapers," he sulked, hoping you'd give in. You peeked from your plushie, "Want wear them too," you whispered, finding comfort in his words. Jeongin chuckled, kissing your nose, "That's my little angel," he praised, lifting your hips and sliding the diapers beneath you.

[bruciemilf]

Hi, the anon that sent the Duke ask here. I’ll start signing off with “🐌” every time so you’ll know it’s me. :)

Anyway to add onto my idea: what if ghosts couldn’t remember their final moments? What if they think that they’re still alive? What if instead of being vengeful over their deaths or watching over Bruce, they’re stuck—bits of their memory missing like those few last puzzle pieces that you can’t find no matter where you look.

Think about how that would affect Duke. Duke who’s new to Wayne manor and is still figuring out who he is and where his place is amongst the bat family, starting to see dead people around them. Going on with daily life as though they’re memories rather than spirits.

He can just ignore them. Act as though he didn’t see anything super natural of the sort. But a part of him feels obligated to help Thomas and Martha; it’s the least he can do after Bruce has been so wonderful to him.

But how?

—🐌

I think it’d be really sweet if, maybe, Thomas and Martha can’t remember certain notes and elements from their life, like a lost translation of a written poem, told before and told again, buffering with interruptions, but they remember Bruce very well.

I can imagine Duke, not helpless, never helpless, but guileless and directionless and lost between shore and ocean, just wanting a shepherd. A line. A clue.

And Thomas? Thomas relates. Imagine Duke escaping to the roof, wanting to be lonely, but not alone, and being comforted by his ghost grandpa :(( wahh.

“It feels like I’m taking someone else’s place. Like… Someone better could be here instead of me. I took a spot meant for someone great, and I’m just,” he gulps, “Not that person.”

“Yet. But you’ll get there. At your time. “

“But how?”

“Kiddo, if there’s one good thing about Gotham city,” Thomas’ touch feels ghoulish and warm both, “is that no one can tell you what you are. You just become that, and don’t let anyone take it from you.

“Gotham’s been waiting for something like you. It can wait another day.”

[aurumacadicus]

The problem was, Steve thought, that he still had those old values. People called him old-fashioned or a man of his time and it was true. He liked holding doors open for his dates, and helping them into cars, and walking on the outside of the sidewalk, and paying for their whole meal. He liked the idea of providing for them. And yeah, some people liked receiving this treatment at first, but the shine would wear off, and then they'd get testy.

"It gets a little old," Sharon had finally told him, eyes soft and sympathetic. "Being treated like I'm being protected all the time. I'm perfectly capable of protecting myself, Steve."

Steve hadn't known how to explain that he knew that. He wasn't doing it because he thought she couldn't; he'd been doing it because it was what came naturally to him. (He thought, later, it was because that was what his ma had been looking for after his dad died. Someone she could lay down her load in front of and he would take care of her. He wanted to be the kind of man his ma would have been proud of. But it was different, now, and he was struggling to learn that.)

So when he finally got the courage to ask Tony out, he figured it was just another thing Tony would make fun of him for, at least good-natured. Tony liked teasing the people he cared about, after all, and Steve gave him a lot of ammunition.

"Oh, what a gentleman," Tony said as Steve opened the door of the car he was borrowing for him, and there was the teasing Steve had expected, but there was also something a little sincere. Steve thought Tony might have even blushed a little as he offered him his hand to get inside, too.

It made Steve wonder when the shine would wear off for Tony. When his irritation would show because Steve never let him pay for dinner, or movies, or even for their coffee from the cart at the park. When he'd snap that he wasn't an invalid and could get into cars just fine on his own. When he would remind Steve very sternly that just because he didn't have the suit didn't mean he was helpless, and he could walk on the outside of the sidewalk sometimes. That he'd humored him enough, and Steve needed to get with the times, especially if he wanted to keep up with a man always looking toward the future.

"Steve," Natasha said in surprise when he'd finally admitted it on hour seventeen of being stuck in a cell together, waiting for rescue. "I don't think Tony is ever going to get tired of the way you treat him."

"Yeah?" Steve asked, too tired to keep the hope out of his voice.

Natasha blinked at him, slow and judgmental. "Steve, I don't know if you've noticed, but Tony gets annoyingly giddy when you guys come back from a date. He's used to being taken for everything he has so other people can get a leg up. You never let him do anything that he would have been expected to do for other dates." She narrowed her eyes. "He still blushes when you get him flowers, Steve. Tony can't fake a blush."

"Oh," Steve said, feeling like an idiot, but it didn't stop the grin from spreading across his face. Natasha made him feel like an idiot regularly, so it was mostly par for the course anyway.

[centipede-gutzz]

📸 CONFESSIONS [DANNY JOHNSON X GN READER]

A/N: this feels like it should be a fic but i don't wanna write so it's "headcanons" instead. i need this man.

WARNINGS: blood, slight violence, make out sessions.

TYPE: headcanons, gn reader, romantic

Grass and dirt cover your backside as you're forcibly pushed to the ground. Sparks fly from the generator you were just working on, stuttering and smoking.

It was almost finished too. You look up to glare at the looming shadow on top of you. The Entity's choice of the killer for today was Ghostface himself, just perfect. You try to pry away from him but it's no use now, with your arms being pinned above your head to keep you from struggling.

"Oh, no no no! Can't have you scattering off again, now can we," Danny chuckles out while wagging his finger. God if you were able to move, you would punch this asshole so hard he would be out of commission for weeks.

He seems to notice your scowl and raises his knife to your throat, inches away from slicing. "Look how helpless you are. It pairs real nice with your pretty face," he says with a teasing tone of voice. You call him out, a smug grin plastered on your face as you point out the effects you must have on him. He must be head over heels for you if you're still alive and not on that dreaded hook.

Your taunting works as he grips his knife in anger. If only that mask was off, perhaps he was all flushed. Seems like your guess was correct.

"You're going to regret saying that, you little shit".

☆- as much as he doesn't want to admit it out loud, he really is obsessed with you.

☆- you're the only survivor with both bark and bite, always coming back with remarks and teases. it drives him mad.

☆- danny tries so hard to push back the giddiness he feels when he sees you during matches.

☆- seems like the type to subconsciously go for everyone else and save you for last so both of you are with each other for longer (which he does).

☆- always likes to take pictures of you whether you notice or not. when you're working on a generator, helping your teammates, or simply just sitting at the survivor camp laughing and smiling at your friends. likes to string them up on the walls of his cabin to admire your wonderful looks.

☆- he can't tell whether it's some weird obsession or genuine love. he doesn't have much experience with those types of feelings so it's not the easiest to pinpoint. you guys are just going to be stuck in this little cat and mouse game if neither of you make a move.

☆- danny grows on you as time passes by. while you don't show your interest in the same way he does, you just like to play along with his games. he loves a challenge, so you'll give him one.

☆- despite witnessing how shocked and flustered he gets whenever you say something back to him, you can't help but question if he truly feels the same way. you'd think he would've made a move by now.

☆- it starts to get to you. you're tired of running around in circles and having your thoughts plagued with questions and wonders about what he feels, so you decide to take matters into your own hands.

☆- during one of the many matches you had against ghostface, you were the final one left. desperately trying to listen for that glorious low drone of the open hatch.

☆- you clutch your bleeding sides, palms stained red. an attempt to unhook dwight let to you being attacked by danny (he blows you a kiss right after).

☆- the hatch is in your sights now, exhaling a breath of relief as you make a run for your exit. before you can reach it, a knife is dug into your shoulder.

☆- you cry out as you stumble onto the floor, danny's laughter ringing in your ears. you hit the ground in frustration as you hiss in pain.

☆- he lowers himself to look you in the eyes all the while taunting you, reaching in his pocket to pull out his camera for another picture.

☆- perhaps it's time to throw your thoughts out the window, you think to yourself as you pull him down to kiss the mouth part of his mask. you hear him make a noise of surprise as he drops his camera and jumps off you.

☆- for once in his life, danny is at a loss for words. he brings a gloved hand to his mask, breath heavy and heart racing. he was so caught off-guard that he didn't notice you crawl into the hatch, ending the match while he stands there dazed.

☆- when you spawn back at camp, the others congratulate you for making it out on your own. a couple of them ask you how you managed get out, yet you can only mumble out that it was pure luck, hoping they don't see your flushed face.

☆- danny is no different of course. he immediately makes a beeline to his cabin to think about everything that happened, the kiss replaying in his head over and over. he falls to his knees and glances up at your photos, wondering how this moment ever came to be.

☆- it's complete radio silence from then on. you haven't gone against him for about a week and you didn't even catch him stalking the survivor camp like he usually does.

☆- you start to wonder if you went to far, guilt creeping up on your mind. maybe he didn't see you that way. this whole situation made you seem out of it and unmotivated, your fellow survivors questioning your state of mind.

☆- you decide to stay on the outskirts of the camp one night. the others are making idle chat around the fire while waiting for the next match to finish. you kick a pebble as you stare at the grassy earth, lost in your thoughts.

☆- suddenly, hands cover your mouth and eyes as you get dragged into the forest. you thrash around violently and swear into the hand to let you go but the perpetrator's grip never falters.

☆- soon enough, you're being dragged into a cabin in the depths of the woods. you get dropped to the floor, the wood creaking below your weight. quickly raising to your feet, you yell various profanities and questions at the kidnapper before stopping to see danny standing in front of you.

☆- his mask is nowhere to be seen, yet his face still remains hidden underneath his hood. fist are balled to his sides as you feel his eyes gaze into your own. you think it's time to apologize for what you did.

☆- before you could even muster a word, his lips are on yours. they're chapped but you can't bring yourself to care as arms wrap around your shoulders, pushing you against the wall. you stumble a bit at first but quickly return the kiss with the same desperation.

☆- tongues dance together sinfully as you both make up for lost time, hands grasping whatever they could find. you don't know how long it's been going on for, constantly taking breaks to catch your breath before kissing him again. but god, something deep in your mind begs it for it to never stop.

☆- the air is too hot for your liking as you pull away (holding back a chuckle in reaction to danny's whine at the loss of contact). even when you're this close to him, his face is never shown. you would ask to see, but perhaps that's for a later time when you gain more trust.

☆- he looks at you, eyes filled with hunger and adoration. you try your hardest not to look away in embarrassment, and instead stare back with lidded eyes.

☆- "i think i'm in love with you." danny finally breaks the silence in the air. you raise an eyebrow as if to ask "you think?"

☆- danny grumbles and turns his gaze to the side. "give me a break, things never got this out of hand." you're confused about what he meant but quickly realized he meant love in general. it makes sense to you, seeing his stalking habits and actual murdering sprees.

☆- yeah, you could say that he's into you.

☆- you give him a warm smile, affirming him that you plan to help him through the roller-coaster of love. he rests his head on the crook of your neck in silent thanks as you feel the smile against your skin.

[pupyuj]

Teasing shy/sub g!p yeji by walking around your guys’ apartment in super short shorts and “accidentally” brushing up against her when trying to get past. Realizing she has a boner as she tries to hide it because she’s embarrassed, you end up helping her out by giving her head.

YEJI MENTIONED EVERYBODY WAKE UP🚨🚨 this got a bit too long i was having too much fun,,, I LOVE MY YEJIPOOKS...

this poor baby is so confused, wondering why you're suddenly in such a mood to torture her🧍‍♀️you're walking around in those ridiculously short shorts and yeji's sitting on the couch, watching your whole figure but her eyes are glued to your ass 😭😭 and then she gets to thinking about how you would look riding her reverse cowgirl style and her brain short circuits,, 😵‍💫 yeji grabbing a random couch pillow and putting it on her lap, covering up her hard on but the pillow pressing up against her did not help at all so she's just,, struggling,,, trying her hardest not to cum in her pants bcs she knows she will never hear the end of it from you :(((

BUT LIKE maybe yeji is taller than you so you ask her if she could get something on one of the high shelfs for you,,, but it's not like you were short so you could definitely just tip your toes a bit and get whatever it was you wanted but yeji was so dang cute with her face flushed and her hands clutching that pillow for dear life <////3 reluctantly, yeji stands up and you pretend to not see the tent in her pants bcs she'll probably faint if you point it out LOL .

"m-move aside, (y/n).. i'll get it for you..." yeji says weakly, pulling on her pants as an attempt to not make her boner too obvious even though you've already seen it and are literally staring at it 😭

"i think i'm fine right here, yeji." you said, laughing at the helpless look on your girlfriend's face. she really was trying so hard to ignore what she was feeling. adorable.

yeji moving forward and reaching up to the cupboard while you're trapped in between her and the countertop,, her nearly dropping the coffee creamer on your head when she feels you grab her dick suddenly :(( "fuck, (y/n)..." her just leaning onto you, clutching your arm while you squeeze her dick through her pants :((( her whines would be so cute too </3

her just looking at you in anticipation while sitting back on the couch with you on your knees to the floor,,,, and you're pulling off her boxers so painfully slowly that she unintentionally looks at you the wrong way, all annoyed and impatient .. you didn't even know your shy and sweet girlfriend can make a face like that! (it was hot.)

"aww, did i do this to you, hon?" you teased while staring at her throbbing hard dick. "i guess i can't just leave you like this, huh?" and before yeji could even say anything more, you've already taken more than half of her cock down your throat,,, every time you go up, the way you dragged your lips up her cock drove her absolutely insane,, and she's moaning your name so loud you can feel yourself leaking through your shorts,,,

yeji being so sensitive that she can't even grab your head and control your pace herself :(( her hands are just stuck holding onto the couch while you're free to do as you like,,, she cums quickly bcs she genuinely can't help herself but that doesn't stop you, not one bit! overstimulating her to the point of tears,,, she's cumming down your throat over and over but she can't stop bcs your mouth feels too good on her ..

her cumming for the nth time and you finally pull your mouth off of her cock,, yeji thinks that that was probably all she had for the entire day but being the slut that you were, of course it wasn't over yet 😵‍💫 you laughing as you climb on her lap, pressing your now bare pussy against her limp dick,,

"get comfortable, hon... i'm not letting you go until you've dumped every single drop inside me."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Quiet Ones 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: it's hump dayyyy.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Lloyd drags you away as you hear the disgusted muttering of his parents. You try to tug free but he’s too strong. Even if he did let go, where would you go? Your ankles nearly bend in the heels as he urges you to the stairs and you stumble into his back. 

“Aw, baby,” he faces you, “don’t get ahead of yourself. We’ll get there.” 

Before you can react, he scoops you up. You cry out, the dregs of your bile burn your throat. You make a face at the smell. He’s hardly bothered as he turns to continue up the staircase. 

“Damn, jelly bean,” he snarls as you feel his heart racing, “I knew you were a freak underneath it all. The way you just dug right in. Like an animal. Feral,” he snickers and kisses the top of your head as he gets to even ground, “we’re more alike than you know, aren’t we?” 

You gulp and say nothing. You’re disgusted as much by yourself as him. All that and for what? You’re still stuck with this madman. How on earth did he even notice you? By his parents’ suggestion, you’re far from his type. 

“Urgh, I don’t feel good,” you rub your stomach and wriggle in his grasp. It would be a good excuse to get away, or at least some space.  

“That’s alright, jelly bean, you let me take care of you,” he carries you breezily down the hall, his footsteps jaunty. You put your hand on his shoulder to steady yourself and his blue eyes flick down to the diamond ring, “fuck, that looks amazing on you. I’ll look just as good on you.” 

He laughs at his slimy joke but it only unsettles you. Even with barf on your breath and steak in your teeth, you can’t deter him. You’ve tried everything; ignoring him, waiting him out to the point of starvation, and making a fool of yourself. Your hope dwindles to a single strand, ready to snap. 

He takes you into the bedroom and through to the adjoining bathroom. The shining marble and gleaming golden accoutrements reflect the overhead light in a pristine sheen. He places you down on the counter so your legs dangle over the edge and he puts his hands on your shoulders. 

“Don’t take it to heart, bean, mom and dad are just like that. You’ll always be good enough for me,” he winks and shifts over to the sink.  

You watch him, helpless. You know better than to hop off in those heels and twist your ankle. He fills a clear cup with porcelain and wets a toothbrush before adding minty paste. He holds them out to you and you accept them wordlessly. The sparkle of the ring makes you wince. 

“I’m their son and they don’t really like me. Sometimes I wonder why they even had me...” he sighs and flicks the cup lightly with his finger. 

You put the brush in your mouth and scrub your teeth. It’s a good excuse not to reply. You don’t really get this man. He’ll kidnap a woman then spill his heart out like you care. Still, knowing how his parents are, you can piece together how he got to this point. 

“You get me, jelly bean. I know you got no parents and sometimes, I feel the same--” 

You choke and pull the brush from your mouth. You swig with the cup and lean over to spit into the sink. You sneer at him, a genuine wave of anger rising in you, “how do you know that?” 

Surprise washes over him at your reaction. He shrugs and hooks his thumbs in his pockets, “well, of course, I had to learn everything about you, honey. To take care of you. Tie up any loose ends hanging off of you--” 

“What the... you...” you scrunch your brow up and shake your head. You feel even sicker. “You’re not going to stop, are you?” 

“Stop?” He smirks, “stop what?” 

You sigh and put the brush back in your mouth. You scrape away the taste of vomit and rinse your mouth again. He takes the cup and brush and puts them aside for you. He comes back to stand in front of you. 

“Your special, bean. I gotta keep you safe. I mean, look how easy I just waltzed in, imagine what a really bad guy could do,” he frames your face with his hand, “just look at you...” he squeezes your jaw tightly so you can’t pull away, “so small and cute and... delicious. I bet you taste as sweet as a jelly bean, huh?” 

His other hand tickles your side and he steps closer, wiggling his way between your knees your legs splay wide. The skirt strains around your thighs as he grips your hip more firmly. He purrs and leans in, his nose tickling yours. 

You press on his chest, "your parents." 

"They can see themselves out, they always do," he slithers, "baby, I only need you." 

"Wait, I'm not-- I--" you babble as his hand slips down and his fingers curl under your ass to grope you, "Lloyd, please, we-- we aren't even married yet." 

He pauses, hovering before your lips and draws back. His mouth slants. 

"Are you an old-fashioned girl, huh? I shoulda known," he purrs, "well, I can get with that," he drops his hand from your chin, "we don't gotta go all the way." 

He brings both his hands to your hips and pulls you towards him. You fall back with the suddenness and barely catch yourself on your elbows. You squeal as he keeps your legs wide and yanks at your skirt. 

"Please, I'm not-- I'm not ready," you plead. 

"Don't worry, babe, I'll get you warmed up," he rasps as he shoves his hands up your dress, bending over you as he exposes your panties. 

"Ah, gosh," you sputter dumbly, writhing as he bows down to bury his nose against your underwear. He takes a big whiff and you exclaim, embarrassed. "Ayeee, Lloyd." 

"You smell like heaven," he lowers himself to his knees, "and I'm not a religious man, mind you." 

You clutch the edge of the counter as you slip down, propping one elbow as you fight the slipperiness of the satin. He nuzzles you, dragging his nose along the trim of your panties as his breath dampens your skin. He nips at you playfully and snarls. 

You squeal in surprise once more. The rippling sensation that radiates from his touch has you as off-kilter as your position. He feels along your thigh and hooks his hand around your other leg. He flutters his fingertips against your panties and tugs them to the side, a waft of cool air dancing over your bare lips. You wriggle again. 

"It's okay, baby, I'll be nice, just a little appetizer," he coaxes and swipes his tongue along your cunt. As you gasp, he rears back and does the same, "jelly bean, you lied to me. You are ready," he licks his lips and you look down at him, his lips already glistening. 

As he dives back in, you gulp and shut your eyes. You turn your head away as he spreads his tongue wide and laps you up. He rocks his head, tickling you deliberately with his mustache, humming into you. You whimper and slap a palm onto the marble counter top. 

He flicks up and down, swirling as you squirm and pant helplessly. As in all things, you can’t resist. Your head falls back against the mirror and you whine. How is he doing this to you? Why is he making you like this? You don’t like him, you don’t want him! 

He tilts his head all around, garbling into you hungrily as he smears your wetness all around his face. His shamelessness spikes your arousal, a new flame razing up your spine. You heave and reach down to latch onto his hair, tugging on it as he seals his lips around your clit and sucks. 

You cry out, legs quivering against his face as you try to close them. He growls and snarls eagerly, devouring you as the pressure wells up to the brim. You huff and puff, curling your spine as you try to fight the pulsing in your core. No, no, no. It’s so intense you feel the tingle in your toes. 

Your voice grows louder as your spasm and the spring overflows. You feel yourself spill into your mouth. He hums again, laughing into you as he drinks up your orgasm. You throw your arm over your face, thoroughly ashamed of your desecration. 

You slide limply down, head tilted up against the mirror, as your legs open and hang loosely. Lloyd kisses your cunt before he pulls away, making a slurping sound as your eyes slit open. You can see the wetness in his mustache. He grins proudly and sighs. 

“Fuck, jelly bean, you’re just like candy,” his eyes drift back to your exposed cunt. 

You try to close your legs and he catches your knees. Holding them open. He tuts and pokes his tongue out, once more licking up the slickness around his lips. You cringe and push yourself up on your elbows. 

“You want me to wait for all that?” He growls, “damn, baby, you must be a sadist, making me hurt so much.” 

He traces his fingers up your thighs and pinches until you squeak. He clucks and reaches past you to the counter. He pulls himself to his feet and you see the bulge in his pants. He rubs his hand across the obvious outline and he shudders. 

“You don’t gotta do anything, just let me look at you while I play with it, how about it?” 

He doesn’t wait for your permission. In that moment, you can’t speak. Even if you could, you don’t even know what you would say. He unbuckles his belt and pushes down his zipper. He’s trembling as he frees himself, his swollen top poking out of his fly. He crumples the top of his pants as he shoves them down impatiently. 

“Show me your ass, I just wanna see it,” he grabs himself and groans, “ah, shit, please, jelly bean, I’m begging you. You want me back on my knees?” He kneels again, stroking himself slowly, “please, turn over, baby, promise I won’t touch.” He moans, “can’t you hear how much pain I’m in? For you?” 

You slide down, feet touching the cold tile. You flutter your lashes, legs shaking. You’re weak and senseless. You can’t look at him. You turn and he groans again. He sounds agonized. 

He chuffs out air as you hear him pumping himself. You hang your head, leaning on your arms as he pulls up your skirt. He whines as he reveals your bare ass around the slender string of the thong. You’re roiling in humiliation and something else. 

“Shit, shit, shit, baby, you are... immaculate,” he grits, “where-- where do you want me to come?” 

“Huh?” You utter. 

“Fuck, too late,” he lets out a roar, punctured by deep huffs, petering out to a pathetic panting that leaves him droning. 

You stay as you are, hiding as your heartbeat slows and the coil inside you loosens little by little. You pull your skirt down, skin scoured in shame, and face him. He sits on his knees still, head down as his dick twitch and slowly softens. You try not to look at it. 

He lifts his head to you, his cheeks flush and his hair askew. He looks around with his foggy eyes and chuckles, “well, it’s good we’re in here, huh? We can get cleaned up.” 

You just stare at him. You’re mortified. You can’t believe what he just did. To you. Then after. And you just laid there. You think... you think you had an orgasm. 

“Let me...” he begins and wobbles before he can plant a foot on the floor. He stands stiffly, not bothering to hide his dick. You ignore the way it flops.  

He turns and goes to the tub. The top of his ass peaks out of his crooked pants. He’s absolutely ridiculous. He the last kind of person you would ever associate with. Not that you talk to anyone, but he is not anyone you would dare to speak to. Yet he has made himself your personal pest. 

He bends over the large tub and cranks it on. You peek over at the door. How loud were you? Were his parents still there to hear you? You frown and raise a foot then lower it again. Your instinct to run fights with your logic. You know you won’t get far, not on jelly legs and not from him. 

The water spills out and he stands, backing away as he rubs his lower back. He strips off his jacket and rolls his shoulders. He turns back and lays it across the other end of the counter. He unbuttons his shirt and looks over at you. 

“Come on, jelly bean, unless you like a bit of zest, I don’t mind it,” he pokes his tongue out at you, “extra flavour and all. 

You let your disgust singe through and curl your lip. He laughs. He drops his shirt and nears. He turns you to face him as your skirt drapes back over your legs. He guides the straps down your shoulders. He shimmies the sheath down your body, his fingers grazing your skin cloyingly. You shiver as bumps raise on your skin. 

“You been hiding, jelly bean, well I’m about to bring you right out of that shell,” he smirks, “if there’s one thing to know about Lloyd Hansen, there’s no walls that can keep him out. I’m gonna tear yours right down.” 

[effy-writes]

can you maybe write something for Fizz where they were friends and when blitz ran away, she stayed and tried to help get him out of the fire, and in doing so, she lost her right arm. and now she is his partner in his clown gigs, and they both get captured and taken for ransom, and then they think that they're going to die so they both confess, but turns out that they get saved, and are together?

tysm :)

ofc!! i already did do a request very similar to that so i’m gonna do hc’s for this, either way hope you enjoy!

also i have insane writers block rn so bare with me 😔

~~~~

fizz x f! reader: being held ransom together and confessing feelings hc’s

• fizz and you bonded over the same trauma that you guys endured. both got injured and you two had to start a whole new life without limbs (with you just your arm)

• fizz would always apologize that you lost an arm, but you always tell him to stop apologizing and that you wanted to help because you didn’t want to lose him. he was helpless and needed to get out of there, but when you pulled him out your arm got engulfed by the flames that was on the curtain just next to his body, you would always reply, “i would rather lose an arm than you lose you”

• years later, ozzie given you and fizz new “limbs” as well as a job. at first you were very reluctant to perform again and it took a lot of convincing from fizz to encourage you to perform.

“it’ll be like old times!”

“exactly. i don’t want to get reminded of the past. i don’t even think i could perform again without getting all emotional.”

“i miss performing with you, y/n. let’s just do this one time and if you don’t like it then i won’t force you. but i know you love dancing, singing, acrobatics, and when you did them in the past you looked so happy. i miss that smile.”

• eventually you gave in and started rehearsing with fizz and found great enjoyment in it. ever since then you two been performing together.

• you already know that fizz got held ransom before with blitz, and that was a wholeeee other thing you had to deal with. you don’t know which day was more traumatizing, you and fizz almost dying or fizz almost dying and you couldn’t do anything about it

• whenever you two got kidnapped by a critic and got locked in a basement things definitely changed. he was freaking out as much as you were but he didn’t want to seem weak in front of you, so he put on an act and tried to comfort you as much as possible.

• since both of your arms and legs got tied up he had to wiggle himself over to you and used his head to rub it against your shoulder, “we’re going to be okay, alright? ozzie will eventually figure out by now that we’re in trouble because we’re supposed to perform in like…20 minutes?”

“that’s not helping me out fizz!”

“ah shit! okay okay um..we’re in this together?”

“fizz, i love you but you’re not making this any better.”

• unfortunately, fizz wasn’t right and you guys been stuck down here for hours. the critic hasn’t came down, so you two began wondering if he forgot about you guys. “do you think we can eat the robotic limbs? like will we die?”

“y/n…what?”

“i mean..yeah i kinda just answered my own question.”

• after some hours of you guys crying, laughing, freaking out, joking around with each other, the critic finally went downstairs to the basement. out of fear you and fizz huddled close to each other.

• the critic spoke about how much he hates you and fizz for ignoring him on social media and in public. at first he wanted to be friends with you guys and just keep you guys down here, but after hearing you guys cry, talk, and laugh, he became so envious of your guys relationship that he wanted both of you gone.

• you didn’t want to die like this, not die without confessing your feelings, and fizz felt the EXACT same way. at the same time you guys said, “i always had feelings for you and was just too afraid to admit it.” “wait WHAT”

• before the critic could say anything a loud gunshot pierced your ears, and once you two looked back up you saw no other than blitz.

“BLITZO?”

“heyyy guys…totally WASNT spying on you two.”

“then why the fuck are you here?” you spat.

“apparently saving your guy’s lives. took you long enough fizz to admit you have feelings for her!”

• basically, right after blitz saved you guys you and fizz had a long and awkward conversation about how you two had feelings for each other for the longest time and both of you had the same reasons as to why you didn’t want to tell the other person, you guys just didn’t want to ruin what you already have

• the day after, fizz wanted to properly confess his feelings at a nice dinner and that’s exactly what he did, and you obviously agreed to be his girlfriend