#sorry this one is a little stilted!

[prowerprojects]

I was thinking maybe a weird mix of both?Between his older friends, where he feels he has to pull his weight harder in order to keep up and his younger ones where he, not necessarily needs to "set an example" but knowing when to stand up and lead when there's a problem or a sense of danger ahead. Especially for those who look up to HIM; as he does Sonic. (Allows for him to have some flexibility, and just more tastes of his progression and what he could be in the future.)

(Nah, I get ya. Although it could make for interesting dynamics, just because certain characters have similar ages or traits does not mean they have to hang out with each other only. Nor should it be the SOLE reason.)

In some aspects, yes. "Wanting to be cool and stronger" has been a goal since his debut. He's made progress, it's the independence that's a struggle. (Sa1 was him making the epiphany. Frontiers is like him, reaffirming his goal or him making it 'clearer' after looking back a bit. But again, it's just words until we see results. Who knows what we'll be saying by 2032.)

Yeah, just a few tweaks and maybe some accessories. But nothing to throw off most fans. (Although I don't see them changing Sonic's iconic shoes, I know some really like his SOAP ones. It'd be cool if they did some happy medium between the two.)

Heh, if he got his own game again, Tails would probably have a more gadgeteer look to him there. (Also, I like the idea of him slowly upgrading his friends' gear as his skills [and confidence] grow.)

There's a lot of confusion during that time, I remember some being concerned that Sticks would replace Cream; or just Modern in generally. (But yeah, gotta be careful with redesigns. I don't think anything will top how Movie Sonic first went.)

Heh, it seems like it was a small experiment they were testing the waters with. Now that they have a flow and the series has been received positively so far, they might churn out more at a quicker pace. (No rush though. I suspect we'll get one more before the year ends.)

Oh yeah, I probably misunderstood what you were talking about last time a bit. I'm just gonna say that I hope we get more of Tails character focus.

Personally I love what they did with Sonic's shoes in sa1, they look like classic shoes but modernized, but the ones he wears nowadays just look kinda weird and metallic.

Oh yeah, they would probably be allowed to spice up the look in a spinoff. Hehehe. (You're making me waaay too hopeful about it)

You know what could be cool about upgrading the gear? If you could get upgrades for other characters in future games, and they would canonically come from Tails.

Oh I hope ^-^

[boygirlctommy]

watching ark: tas and <3 the animation is so bad even my dad can tell

[jaegerbby]

➳ tomura shigaraki x female! reader

╰┈➤ word count; 1423

╰┈➤ drabble; dubious consent, season one shigaraki (not buff lol), cervix fucking, rough sex, dacryphilia kink, creampie, unprotected sex, manhandling, yn has an immune quirk.

shigaraki has your hands pressed to the small of your back.

where your skin is warm, his is so cold.

his quirk does not turn you to dust. no! you are different from all the others. you are special.

maybe too special for your own good because that is the reason you wound up here.

he is panting, sweat lined along his hairline. you are crying so much but he cannot help that it only makes him fuck you harder.

he does not have one bit of restraint.

he does not like that you seem so miserable, he swears he is doing this out of love. he wants to make you feel good. really! he just gets a little rough.

he just gets so caught up in how tight your cunt is, how wet you are, how your gooey walls clamp down on him.

he pounds into your leaking slit until he is bruising you. he does not prep you despite the agonising stretch he subjects your pussy to.

shigaraki is sorry, truly he is!

he hunches over you, his bony chest meeting your back. his balls are squished between your bodies as he presses on the small of your back and ruts into you. it is borderline painful.

he puffs heated breaths, "don't cry s'much." he slurs. he leans down to cover your swollen lips in a messy kiss. he licks into your drool filled mouth, silencing your sobs and a few kisses are all it takes to have you fawning for him again.

you take any and every thing that he is willing to give you.

"don't like it like this." you whine when he pulls away, the strand of saliva sticking to your chin as you mush your face to the sheets.

you say that yet you are pushing your ass back on him. you say that but your cunt is tightly gripping his cock like you need it to survive.

he sneers, nails digging into your flesh, the jagged edges nicking the skin. his cock slips out halfway, covered in slick, so much that it drips between your thighs.

everything is sticky and your eyes squeeze at the feeling. he shoves back in roughly making you jolt.

"but your pussy likes it. your little cunt likes being filled with cock, she's soaking for it." your fingers flex under his hold, you can feel his eyes burning into you, can feel his body against your skin, you wish you could hide.

you cannot at all, not when he is pressing down on your back and has you at his whim. has you in a position where he can fuck you as hard and fast as he wants.

"i want to see your face." you brokenly speak, his spit slick tongue comes out to lave over your cheek, licking up your tears as he pounds his cock into you.

"you are so fucking spoilt." shigaraki's gravelly voice fills you ear, his free hand slips under you, rolling your stilted bundle of nerves.

the pert of his nipples grazes on your back with every sharp movement that has his cock prodding at your cervix. has it dipping deep in your slurping cunt and stretching your hole until it fits perfectly around him.

"fuckkk." he drawls, your body is so soft, so comfortable. you whine, your ass pushing more into him, your body moving with his thrusts. he is putting all his weight onto you, forcing you into the bed completely.

his hand squeezing your neck so tightly you gasp. his jaw hangs, spit trailing down the side of his mouth as his eyes roll back. he is not focused on you, he is focused on how good your slick cunt feels.

how your insides seem to suck him in and grip his cock. it feels like you are milking him dry, like you are squeezing his release out of him and into your pussy.

shigaraki's movements grow sloppy, his strokes are no longer full. his body shakes, humping you shallowly but somehow it hits every spot inside of you.

he is fucking into you with desperation, loud paps and squelches fill the room as your cunt tugs him in.

the swollen walls of your warm insides make it difficult for him to function. he feels like he is short circuiting.

"shouldn't feel this good!" he whimpers. you turn him into a mindless freak who only cares about sticking his cock in your warm, soaking hole.

he hates that you have that power over him.

your ass feels bruised at this point, his pelvic bones colliding with your skin so often you wince.

he is forceful and uncaring, vigorously fucking you with everything in him and his hips stutter before he is releasing heavy drops of his load into you.

you grit your teeth, not able to move with how he forces you down onto the sheets. his hips rock, head leaning back and his lips parted.

it is so hot and thick, it feels like your stomach is bulging from the amount. he is still humping you whilst his cock spurts streams of his load along your walls.

the milky cream coating your cunt and leaking its way into your puckered cervix. he collapses onto your back, your clit rubbed raw although you have not came once.

shigaraki pants, still grinding into the swell of your ass to fuck his seed back into you. the excess spews past the perimeter of his length, making your cunt messier.

he covers you, using all of his weight to keep you pinned to the mattress and only focused on him.

despite your squirming, he is unmoved.

"stop your fucking whining." he pinches your nipple. "your pussy feels good." he says it like it is the most renowned compliment in the world. like it does not reduce you to one thing alone. he nuzzles your cheek like he was not awful just a moment before.

you eyes are still teary, "nothing else?" you mumble. he shakes his head but it is only to get you angry. to see your lips tremble and tears fill your eyes. to see how hard you try not to cry but fail.

he knows you want to move but you cannot in this position.

not when he has you trapped beneath him, your cunt filled to the brim with his cock and his cum.

"get off!" shigaraki does not like when you talk to him like that. his teeth nip at your throat.

"be nice to me." he rasps. you want to but when has he ever been nice to you?

you can still feel his cum dripping inside you while his heavy body is flushed to you. you can barely breathe when he has you secured under him by lean muscle.

you are not sure how long he keeps you in the puddle of his semen before he pulls out.

his cock bobs between your legs as he sits up, you are wincing at the feeling. the slick mess of his cum leaks out of you.

you feel dirty.

he does not bother asking, his rough fingers tug you to face him but you slump further into the sheets.

you hear him huff at your resistance and then he is forcing you unto your back.

he hovers over you, thick strands of hair hanging down and framing his features.

"i thought you wanted to see my face." you did. you wanted to more than anything else. in a way you like to pretend that he is yours as much as he says you are his.

your eyes trail over his pretty red eyes and his blushed skin. his swollen lips and his sunken cheeks. you want him closer.

he should be the last person you find comforting but you cannot help that you do.

your hand strokes his aching cock, thumb massaging the prominent vein on the underside.

he lurches forward his stiffening erection meeting your slit. you mutely cry as he shoves it inside all at once.

he groans lowly, rocking his hips before his lips meet yours. he sloppily kisses you as he fucks his cum back inside of your cunt.

your hands greedily find purchase in his skin, trying to convince yourself that you mean something to him.

he takes and takes with no consideration. perhaps this is your purpose. to give without a care.

to give shigaraki every bit of you.

it only made sense for someone with a quirk like yours.

i rly rly want to write a daddy kink drabble/fic 😣

[after-witch]

Scaramouche + “I regret to inform you, my Lord, but I believe I may have fallen ill while you where away.”

The words you put so neatly to paper were done on a whim. You were bored and restless, maybe a little bitter, that someone who refused to let you access the greater wide world would feel justified in leaving you alone--not literally, though you hardly call a handmaiden and guards who won't converse with you outside of stilted repetition of their orders much better--for weeks at a time. Even if it was on some important business, something he couldn't get away from, and so on, as he told you.

So you wrote them down in a flourish,. To worry him, to bother him, maybe that was one and the same. You expected to get a vexed letter back... maybe even new orders to the guards to bring in a physician to examine you

What you didn't expect was to be woken in the dead of night by the sound of furious footsteps and snapping words, by the clang of guards' armors as they sprang to attention on what would have been an otherwise boring night watch.

What you didn't expect was your bedroom door to fling open, revealing Scaramouche, eyes wide and pupils large, breath puffing out in a furious huff.

But that is exactly what has happened, and now you're sitting up in bed, hair askew, your own eyes wide with fright. You cling to the luxurious blanket covering you in your thin night clothes.

"M-My lord!" Because what else is there to say, when your Harbringer husband storms in when he isn't supposed to return for another 4 weeks?

He's standing next to the bed before you can think or blink, face pink with exertion and perhaps anger.

"What's wrong? Have those idiots I left in charged called for a physician yet? Do you have a fever? Have you thrown up? You were the only one who bothered to write of your illness. I should have their heads."

The barrage of words leaves you at a loss. You didn't think he would be this upset.

"I... I..."

He grabs at you, clutches at your wrist, fingers pressing on your pulse, fast and frightened from your unexpected awakening.

"Spit it out," he says, but rather than pure irritation there's something woven into his words that gives you pause.

Fear?

Perhaps it's this realization that gives you the courage to push forward. You swallow and speak slowly, giving your voice some much needed hoarseness for good measure.

"I'm... feeling better now," you say, voice tiny and unsure. "I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have worried you. I had a terrible headache and stomach pains, but it passed a few hours after I wrote my letter, and I didn't think to change it."

His lips curl into a frown. He looks you over, perhaps taking in whether or not the sweat on your forehead is from heat or nervousness or the aftermath of illness.

And then his hand goes to your forehead, and your stomach clenches--it reminds you of your mother.

He tsks.

"You're still warm," he says, after some consideration.

Are you? Or is it a lie he's telling to make you feel better? Or to make himself feel better, for having come all this way in such a state?

"Lie down. I'll have a servant bring you something cool."

There's nothing to do but ease yourself back down on your pillows, watching the Harbringer that has made yourself your husband, and wait to see what comes next.

[moonstruckme]

OK so this idea is for like Sirius its the holiday and they’re exchanging gifts well siris gift to her it’s kind of meh not a lot of thought into it. So she freaks out because her gift to Siri is like really personal after she opens up her gift she snatches his away from him and runs(of course he gets her tho) Blah blah blah cute convo turns out he had another gift but was scared to give it to her blah blah blah

Xoxo love you 💕

Thanks for requesting sweetness! I am totally tapped out of gift ideas atm so you'll have to forgive the poor gift choice in this, just imagine them as whatever you like haha

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“Come on,” you tug Sirius over to your Christmas tree by the wrist, sitting in front of it eagerly. 

“I thought we were going to do gifts after the movie,” Sirius complains, letting you tug him down beside you with a reluctance you know has to be feigned. Sirius loves gifts, giving as well as getting them. You’d been just friends for years, and you’d held back from getting him anything too sappy that might reveal your humiliating mega-crush, but now that you’re dating you’ve finally given yourself permission to get him whatever you like. 

“Oh, don’t bother, I know you want yours already,” you tease, fishing it out from under the tree and setting the box in front of him. The resistance doesn’t completely fade from Sirius’ expression, but he gives you a small smile. 

“Fine, I’ll be generous,” he says. “You can open yours first.” 

You grin at him, leaning over to kiss him on the lips and marveling at the fact that you can. “Thanks! I’m so excited.” 

“I can tell,” he jokes, somewhat quieter than usual. It nettles at something in your nervous system, but you ignore it for now, taking the tissue paper out of the little bag with an enthusiasm you can’t bother to be embarrassed about. 

You peer in, and it’s all you can do to keep the smile plastered on your face when you see what’s inside. “Candies,” you say, imbuing your voice with as much pep as you can manage. “Wow, I’ll be well fed this year. Thanks, Siri!” You can’t stand to stay under his gaze a second longer, swooping in for another kiss. It feels stilted and awkward. 

“They’re your favorites,” he says with a tentative little smile. “I thought I’d better stock you up.” 

“You’re a genius.” You grin, unwrapping one of the candies and popping it in your mouth. “Mm, thank you, honey.” 

“Course.” He looks down at his present, starting to fiddle with the ribbon. “My turn, I guess.” 

Your heart turns to stone, dropping all the way to your stomach with a dull thud. “Actually,” your voice squeaks a bit as you reach forward, taking your gift back, “I think I gave you the wrong one.” You start looking under the tree, trying to find a replacement that won’t be too sorely missed. 

Sirius brow puckers. “Really? It had my name on it.” 

“No, I think this one is for Mary—”

“Babe, I saw my name right there.” He leans over you, taking the present from where you’ve stowed it in your lap. “See? Right on the top.” 

Your blood rushes in your ears, which is ridiculous, this is Sirius, you’ve known him for years, you shouldn’t be nervous around him—but fuck, how can you really be sure you know each other at all after what he just gave you? If he’s expecting something similar, you’re about to be so mortified. “I think that might have been a mix-up,” you say weakly. “I’m pretty sure yours has someone else’s name on it too—”

“Hey,” Sirius seizes your wrist when you grab for the gift again, holding it protectively to his chest, “what’s wrong with you? I know you didn’t mix up the names, sweetheart.” You strain against his grip for a few moments, but Sirius is surprisingly strong when he decides to be. It’s little effort for him to keep you at bay. He gives you a hard look. “What’s going on?” 

“I just…” You give up your attempts to steal the gift back, but you can’t look at him. You gnaw at your lip. “I’m sorry, I might have gone a bit overboard. It’s…you can open it, just, sorry.” 

Sirius' features soften, but he’s quiet, wary as he peels off the wrapping paper. Your heart climbs back up your throat when he opens the box. For a horrifying second, he’s frozen, but then his hand dips into the box and emerges with your gift, holding it all too delicately. 

“Baby,” his voice is barely more than a whisper as he admires the small clay ornament, a likeness of his animagus form. “Where did you get this?” 

“I made it,” you admit, shoulders gravitating towards your ears. “I couldn’t find one that looked right in the stores, so…”

“You made it?” Sirius sounds awed. “Fuck, it’s amazing.” His eyes move to yours, still holding your gift suspended in the air between you. “Thank you, sweetheart. I love it.” 

It’s like someone’s been inflating a balloon in your chest and has just finally let it deflate. You can breathe again. “I’m really glad,” you say, and your smile may not be huge but at least it’s not faked. “I was worried it was too much.” 

“No, this is perfect.” Sirius places the ornament back in its box with heartbreaking care, giving you a sad look. “Fuck, I’m an ass.” 

“No, you’re not—” you start automatically, but he cuts you off. 

“I am. I’m a total coward, too. I’m so sorry, doll, I just—I freaked out.” He puts a hand in his hair, fingers curling in the dark locks. “I have a better gift for you, just one second.” 

He stands, leaving you in confused silence. You hear something rustling by the entryway of your flat, and then Sirius comes back a second later with a nicely wrapped box. 

“What’s this?” you ask when he sets it in your lap. 

“Your real present.” Sirius seems almost bashful, looking down as he gets situated on the floor again. “Go on, open it.” 

You almost don’t want to destroy the wrappings on this gift, clearly done with much more care than the first, but you take the paper off bit by bit, opening the top of the box. 

“Sirius,” you breathe. “Honey, what is all this?”

“It’s, uh, it’s just stuff from our first few dates.” You look up, and he’s playing with his rings. “Pictures, receipts, ticket stubs, shit like that. I know you’re a sap for that stuff, so.” 

“I’m a sap?” Laughter comes fizzing up out of you despite the tears blurring your vision. “You’re the one who collected it all!”

“Oh, technicalities, I only—hey.” He finally meets your eyes, noticing your state. “Hey, don’t cry. Shit, I knew this would happen. I should have stuck with the candy.” 

“I don’t understand,” you warble as he chases determinedly after your tears with painfully gentle fingers. “Why were there two?” 

Sirius sighs, pressing an apologetic kiss to your cheek. “Like I said, I freaked out. I was planning on giving you this, but on the way over I started thinking about how we haven’t been dating that long, and maybe it was too soon for something so…relationship-y, you know? So I panicked and bought a bunch of candy at the store.” 

You’re laughing by the end of it, shoulders shaking with amusement even as tears continue to dribble down your face. Sirius coos and kisses them away. 

“I guess I am a sap,” you say cheerily. “I never even thought about if my gift would be weird.” 

“Not until I made you,” Sirius groans, pulling you in for a hug. “Pretty sure that doesn’t make you a sap so much as it makes me an idiot, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” You smile into his shoulder, curling your fingers into the material of his shirt. “We both got to give our sappy gifts, and if the apocalypse goes down, I’ve got enough candy to last through New Years’.” 

[lipglossanon]

Dirty Little Secret

Stepson!Leon S. Kennedy x Stepmom!Reader <one shot>

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, pseudo incest, cheating, loveless marriage? lol, mommy kink, breeding kink, mentions of lactation kink, dirty talk, noncon, slight somno, mention of a rape play scenario, unprotected sex, creampie

not proofread ✍️ just smut

title from Dirty Little Secret by The All American Rejects

You thought it was love. This guy wined and dined you then showed you the world. So when he proposes to you only three months into your relationship, you’re so smitten that you agree before he even finishes asking. 

It must’ve been the honeymoon phase because a year later, you’re stuck at home while he galivants around the globe for his business. It’s not like you have a hard time, but you’re lonely, done begging for attention from a man who apparently just wanted someone to live in his empty house while he’s gone. 

Then after months of stilted phone calls and cut short video chats, he drops by only to surprise you with a son from a previous marriage. Something you knew nothing about. After introducing Leon to you, he leaves him there—some flimsy excuse of letting you two get to know each other—and is off again once more. 

Leon smiles at you as his dad leaves, “Sorry to drop in like this.”

Your frown smooths out as you take a deep breath, “Not your fault, sorry if I’m off kilter. He didn’t even tell me about you til now.”

You wince after saying the words out loud but Leon only laughs. 

“It’s okay. I’ll stay out of your hair as much as possible.”

You wave your hand, “Don’t be silly, it’ll be nice to have company again.”

He smiles again but this one makes you feel a little more on edge, something about the way it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. 

“Well then, I’m sure we’ll get on like a house on fire.”

You settle into a new routine, Leon fitting into your day to day pretty easily. He’s sarcastic and mouthy, but it beats only having yourself for company. Your husband dropped off his son in late January and it’s now early May; it’s like you blinked and realized you haven’t even had anyone else visit except for Leon’s actual mom. (She’s surprisingly a sweetheart and quite helpful even if she makes Leon all moody to have her in your shared space). 

It’s after one such visit that left Leon in an irritable mood where you decide to have a little movie night in order to cheer him up. You’re unsure as to what started it this time, but the ex missus just gave you a quick smile and wave goodbye as Leon stormed off upstairs. Taking in a deep breath, you rap your knuckles on his closed door and listen for any movement.

Half a minute passes by before you hear him walk over and open the door. You take in his sweats and loose white tee. Good, it doesn’t look like he's headed out—you tilt your head before looking back up into his face. 

“Yes?” He raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms, a corner of his lips ticking up into a half smile. 

“Wanna watch some shitty horror movies and order pizza?” You smile, pleased with yourself when he drops his arms. 

“Sure,” he shrugs, tossing his phone back onto his bedspread and pushing you away from his door, closing it behind him, “w’nna order a cheese pizza?”

“Sounds good,” you lead him back downstairs, flopping down on the couch and grabbing your phone. 

Leon sits on the cushion next to you, leaning over to watch as you scroll through the app. 

“Want any sides or anything?” You ask, attention still on your phone. 

“Pizza’s plenty.”

You feel his breath ghost across your neck and it sends a chill down your spine. Scrunching your shoulders up, you laugh and bump against his side. 

“That tickles, Leon,” you shift a little and you feel him move to face the television. 

Once you place the order, you lock your phone and sink into the couch. Leon’s close enough you can feel his body heat, but you know if you move he’ll end up next to you again. It’s something you’ve noticed over the time that he’s stayed here; you’ve only brought it up once and he admitted he likes being close since he misses his mom. 

You frown to yourself as Leon channel surfs, not wanting to start any movies only for it to be interrupted by the delivery guy. For him to miss his mom so much, he’s always pissy when she visits. Maybe he’s just salty that she let him end up living here with you? Glancing over at him, he notices you looking and shoots you a grin. 

“Have any idea on what movie we start with?”

You return his grin and drum your fingers against your thigh, “Hmmm, you ever watch Spookies?”

He shakes his head, “I’m assuming it’s bad?”

“The worst but in the best way,” you laugh.

He studies you for a moment. 

“Thanks for trying to cheer me up.”

Giddy warmth bubbles in your chest, “Of course, Leon. I know the situation probably isn’t ideal, but I’ll take care of you.”

He laughs low in his throat, “We’re nearly the same age.”

You wave him off, “Yeah, yeah, but I’m still older though.”

Lapsing into a companionable silence, you mindlessly watch as Leon zips through different shows until the doorbell rings. After stuffing your faces with pizza, you settle in comfortably on the couch, feet laying over Leon’s lap after he tugged your legs away from you. 

“No reason to stay curled up like that,” he pats your calf. 

Unsure how to feel, you eventually relax into him. If it doesn’t bother him, then why should it bother you? The heat from his lap must lull you to sleep because the next thing you know is blinking your eyes open to some random movie playing on the tv. Another beat and you groggily glance down your body at the new weight pressing you into the cushions. 

Sandy blonde hair fills your vision as you feel Leon softly suck a nipple into his mouth. Without you noticing, he has pushed your flimsy shirt up and tugged your bra cups down. Squirming under him only leads to him sighing softly, eyes fluttering shut as he licks around your stiff peaks. 

“Stop, stop,” you pant, feeling sluggish and out of sorts, arms and legs feeling wooden as sleep tries to cling to your senses.

Leon only laughs and goes back to softly sucking on your nipples, mouth drifting from one hard bud to the other with quick swipes of his tongue. 

“But mommy, you said you’d take care of me,” his low voice raises the hair on your arms, “mmm, and what I really need is to suck your sexy tits.”

There’s no denying the rush of slick that fills the gusset of your panties. 

“S’wrong, Leon,” you counter, weakly crying out when he gently bites your nipple. 

“Maybe, but I think you need this, need me to take care of you. After all, my dad’s not going to,” he growls and roughly sucks the puckered skin around your stiff bud, “you need a husband who wants to stuff your hot little pussy.”

A loud keening moan leaves your mouth before you can clamp your lips shut.

His eyes are bright as a grin lights up his face, “See? C’mon, no one has to know that you let your stepson dick you down on the couch.”

Hips jumping, you mewl as he goes back to lapping at your nipples, hands coming up to grope the soft fat of your breasts. 

“Been waiting for this,” he murmurs into your sternum, mouth leaving a trail of hot kisses across your skin, “fuck, I’ve wanted you so bad, mommy.”

The condescension in that one word makes you drip, pussy throbbing for more than just words. 

“W-we shouldn’t though,” you try to get a grip on yourself, hands hovering over his hair, “god, I’m married to your father.”

“Is he here? Is he ever here?” He raises up and sneers at you, “never around when you need’em huh?”

Raising up onto his haunches he gives you a nasty smirk, “But that’s why you have me now. I’m gonna pound your hot little pussy day and night. Maybe it’ll even make you a real mommy.”

“Leon!” You gasp, nipples tightening at the thought, hands digging into the couch.

But he’s telling the truth. Your husband is never home— hasn’t called you back and barely replies to texts. You’ve been lonely and neglected even before Leon got here; so what if it’s wrong? It won’t kill anyone just to go along with him this one time. So that’s what you decide to tell him. 

“This one time,” you whisper, biting your lip as you give in to him, “just once.”

He laughs, “Sure, I can work with that.”

Once turns into twice. 

“It’s still just the one time,” you pant as he fucks into your squelching pussy, face mashed against the armrest of the couch, “it’s still the same round.”

“Sure, mommy,” he murmurs in your ear and you clamp down on him tighter, “whatever you say.”

Which turns into three and four and then five…

By the next afternoon, you're bouncing on your stepson’s fat cock in your own marriage bed. 

“Fuck, fuck, I need it, please, I wanna cum,” you whimper, grinding down onto Leon’s dick, “please.”

“Take it then, mommy, take your son’s cock deep in that little pussy,” he growls, thumb rubbing your clit in tight rough circles. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, eyes rolling back as Leon’s fat tip kisses your cervix, “god, it’s so good.”

“Yeah? Better than dad’s?” Leon asks, flashing you a smug little smile. 

“Uh huh,” you whine, hands pressing on his broad chest so you can ride him harder, “you’re the best fuck I’ve ever had.”

“Goddamn,” he growls, grabbing your waist and flipping you onto your back. 

Pulling halfway out, he bullies his cock back into your sopping wet hole, pace fast and hard making you wail as he rams against your g-spot. 

“Tell me mommy, tell me who’s making this fat pussy feel so good,” he pinches your nipples, “c’mon mommy, say it.”

“You,” you whimper, tears clumping your lashes, “you’re making mommy’s pussy feel so good.”

“Who?”

“My son,” you cry out as he tugs your nipples roughly, “my son’s filling my pussy and making me cum.”

“Good girl, mommy,” he coos mockingly and you squeeze his cock, pussy walls snug and wet around his thick length. 

“I’ve given you so many creampies,” he sighs, “fuck, I hope one of them takes. Wanna drink your milk.”

You shudder, hips stilling, “That’s so—”

“Hot?” He slaps your thigh and you start grinding on his cock again, “these tits leaking milk for me would be a dream come true. Let me breed you, mommy.”

“I can’t,” you mewl, clit throbbing as you rock your hips into his thrusts, “can’t get knocked up by my stepson.”

Leon groans, “It’ll just be the one time. Besides, I’ve been dumping load after load into this tight little cunt. We both know you want it, mommy. Making that pussy crave to have me stuffing her to the brim.”

You lean forward, face pressing against his neck as you moan brokenly. 

“I shouldn’t,” you hiccup, hips writhing as Leon reaches underneath you to grip your ass. 

“It’ll be our little secret,” he humps your pussy, cock knocking against your cervix and making you squeal, “let me breed you, mommy. Let your son breed your fat pussy.”

“I’m gonna cum,” you slur, mouth panting and drooling against his skin, “oh god, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Next time, I want you to fight me,” he whispers in your ear and you moan, “fight me so when I pin you down, I’ll be raping your hot wet pussy until you cream all over my cock, mommy.”

Your nails dig into his back and you scream, orgasm wiping out your thoughts as your body thrashes under Leon.

“I’m cumming, fuck, mommy, gonna fill you up again,” he rambles, hips pistoning his cock in and out of your pussy as you continue to orgasm. 

The last thing you see is Leon’s blue eyes staring down at you as your pussy milks his cock while he spurts rope after rope of thick cum inside your clenching hole. 

You wake up sometime later with Leon running his fingers along your arm and shoulder. 

“You okay?”

You hum and nod, stretching out along the bed, feeling a slight twinge in your hips. 

“May’ve over done it,” you mumble, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands. 

Leon laughs and drops a kiss to your head. 

“Yeah I got that after you passed out.”

Giggling, you turn on your side to face him. 

“Need to drink more water I guess.”

He nods, a funny sort of smile overtaking his features. 

“You’re not gonna tell anyone right?”

You scoff and roll your eyes, “Why would I? Even if we’re both adults, I don’t think anyone’s gonna be happy it happened.”

Sighing, you push up until you can swing your legs over the side of the bed. 

“I’m gonna take a shower.”

Standing up, your thighs shake but you’re able to walk over to the en-suite bathroom. At the doorway, you turn back to see Leon staring at you, a hungry look in his eyes. You bite your lip knowing what you’re about to say isn’t a good idea, but what the hell. You’re already in it this far. 

“If you wash my back, I’ll wash yours,” tone flirty as you smile at him. 

Not waiting for an answer, you walk into the bathroom, listening as the sheets ruffle from Leon climbing out of bed to follow you.  

[luveline]

hope my boyfriend's okay request.

hi!!! can I request hurt comfort or angst with spencer reid? maybe reader is just an ordinary girl, not that smart, not that pretty, or even a college drop out (like reader from honeybody) so she is kinda insecure when spencer being kind to her or even ask her on a date?

tysm♡

"Do you want to play?" Spencer asks. 

You're flushed before you open your mouth, startled by his sudden appearance and the new haircut he sports, curls locked back behind his neck. "Sorry, I just wanted to sit down." 

"No, I'm just asking if you want to play," he says, shaking the little briefcase he holds between his fingers to emphasise the rattle of the chess pieces inside. 

You've stolen his chess table again at the park. It's how you met, how you continue to meet —you want somewhere to put your book as you read and Spencer hardly ever makes you move, he just sort of sits with you until someone is in need of an opponent. 

"I don't know how. I don't have the smarts." 

Spencer sits down opposite you, placing the briefcase against the white and black chequered tiles. "Playing chess isn't about being smart. Being good at chess takes learned skill, though. It's like learning a language. Most people can say hello and goodbye if they try, but fluency comes with practice." He smiles at you like you're lovely and pretty and someone worth explaining this too, when you're worrying It's filtering out of your head like water through a sieve. Draining, draining, gone. 

"I don't even think I could remember hello and goodbye," you say. Your attempt to smile back at him is pitiful. 

His smile ebbs. "You're sure you don't want to play? I'd go easy for you." 

You curl the cover of your paperback in your hands, deliberating. Chess is one of those games that seems never-ending. It's full of manoeuvres and techniques, openings, closings, all these learned combinations, strategy like nothing you've ever been able to comprehend. You've never wanted to learn because you know you won't be good, even if you try. 

"Okay," you say quietly. "I really won't be any good." 

Spencer shrugs and begins to retrieve the small wooden chess pieces. "I usually win anyways."

"Have you ever, um, competed? Like the grandmaster things?" 

"No, but I had a friend I competed against for a long time. We played a lot of games. He was better at winning, despite my advantage." Spencer arranges your pieces with care. "Do you need me to teach you the opening moves?" 

He explains slowly. When you need help, he gives it, and he doesn't lord it over your head. It's a little shameful seeing the difference in your intellectual capabilities displayed so clearly, and the longer the game goes on the worse you feel, even though Spencer lets you win. 

"You'll get better every game," he says, returning taken pieces to the board.  

"You want to play again?" you ask. "Come on, Spencer, that can't have been fun for you." 

"Why wouldn't it be?" 

"Because I'm a useless opponent? And I don't really have anything else going for me, either, so it must be boring." It's an awkward thing to say, self-deprecating and stilted considering you and Spencer aren't more than acquaintances. You regret it as soon as you've said it but the frustration of the situation sticks around. "I don't understand why you waste your time with me." 

"It's not wasted if it's with you." Spencer looks genuinely confused, shapely eyebrows pinching. "Is that what you really think? I like spending time with you, I don't need you to be a chess expert to find you interesting." 

"But there's nothing interesting,," you insist. 

"Of course there is…" He straightens a chess piece, gaze split between you and the board. "You don't have to say something from a journal for it to be worth saying. You know, I've had a thousand conversations this year, some of them with professors or academic experts, but," —he puts his hand, now finished with the chess pieces, over his elbow, meeting your eyes shamelessly— "the one I replay the most is from a few weeks ago, when you told me why you like to read in the park." 

"That was just small talk," you say weakly, though it hadn't felt small to you, and now you know it wasn't small for him either. 

"Then I guess I love small talk," Spencer says. "Do you want to play again? I'll teach you some good opening moves if you tell me more about you. Deal?" 

You nod hurriedly, and fail to hide a beaming smile. "Teach me the best one." 

"That's what I meant," he says. 

[stevethehairington]

Accidental Kiss Goodbye Part 1

Part 2:

Steve isn't so sure how he makes the rest of the drive to Family Video without crashing. It's all kind of a blur, how he manages to operate a whole entire vehicle in the state he's in once it hits him. Because after it does, his brain is just one big broken record of IkissedEddieMunsonIkissedEddieMunsonIkissedEddieMunson — absolutely no regard for speed limits and traffic lights and other cars.

He enters the store with his eyes glazed over and a faraway look on his face. Robin, of course, clocks it immediately, and she's worried for all of thirty seconds before Steve just blurts it out:

"I kissed Eddie."

Robin raises an eyebrow, the rest of her slowly relaxing when she realizes it isn't actually anything life or death (even though it certainly feels that way to Steve). "That's good, right?" She asks. "You've been crazy about him for months, Steve. It's actually kind of painful how head over heels you are."

Steve scoffs and ignores the dig, but he fixes his wide eyes on her. "It's not good, Rob," he grouses. "I didn't mean to."

Robin scrunches up her face. "Huh? What do you mean you didn't mean to?"

"I mean it was an accident," Steve tells her.

"An accident?" Robin repeats, amused. "Like — like you accidentally tripped and caught yourself with his mouth?" She laughs. "I don't—"

"No," Steve hisses. "An accident like I wasn't thinking and I just did it." And then Steve explains it to her, tells her exactly what happened this morning. How Eddie had grabbed him, how Steve had gotten so caught up in the moment, how he hadn't even hesitated, just leaned right in for a kiss like it was something they did every day.

When he finishes, Robin is quiet for a moment. Two. Three. Then she laughs. Hard. Like, doubled over, clutching her stomach, wiping tears from her eyes hard.

Steve smacks the back of his hand into her shoulder and whines her name. "Robin, be serious! I'm freaking out here," he says.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Robin says, swallowing down the rest of her laughter and schooling her face into something more sedate as she gathers her wits. "Look, Steve," she starts, grabbing his arm, just above his elbow. "I really don't think there's anything for you to worry about. It'll be fine. You just need to talk to him."

Steve frowns. "I don't even know what to say to him."

Robin narrow her eyes at him. "You could always, mm, I don't know, try telling him how you feel," she suggests gently. Tilts her head and smiles a little playfully. "I mean, accidentally kissing him goodbye is a pretty good excuse to finally get around to it. Y'know, since you've been putting it off for so long." She shrugs. Grins.

Steve huffs out. He knows she's right. She usually is. "Okay, but how do I even do that?" He asks.

Robin sighs softly and shrugs again. "You're asking the wrong person for that," she says. "I'm hopeless. You know that. But you're not." She knocks her shoulder into his, snatches up one of the tapes from the counter and gives it a little shake. "And you've got the next eight hours to figure it out."

It's going to be a long shift.

The second Steve's shift — his long, tortuous shift — is over, he's out the door. Hurries straight to his car and drives right back to Eddie's place.

He parks, kills the engine, then just sits there. Staring at the door of Eddie's trailer. Psyching himself up.

When he finally gets out and walks the short distance across the dirt and climbs those few front stairs, he stops on the doorstep. Hesitates again. His stomach feels like it's twisted itself into knots, but he pushes past that and knocks before he can talk himself out of it.

It feels like years before the door finally swings open. And there's Eddie.

"Steve," Eddie says, and he sounds surprised to see him.

"Eddie, hey. Uh, can I— can I come in?"

Eddie just nods and steps aside so Steve can shuffle past him.

They sit on the couch together, side by side. It's a little awkward, a little stilted, the slip up from this morning clearly at the forefront of both of their minds. Neither one of them seems to want to be the first to acknowledge it.

But the silence is unnerving, and it grates on Steve enough that he finally just blurts out, "I kissed you."

Eddie snorts, but instead of making some brassy comment like he usually would, he just parrots back, "you kissed me."

It gives him nothing, is the thing. Eddie has been very stoic, since letting Steve in. His face, usually so open, so expressive, has been carefully blank. Not giving anything away. Like maybe he's just as nervous about how this conversation is going to go.

It's a bit unsettling. Steve has no idea where Eddie's head is at. So, he figures it best to start with an apology.

"Sorry," Steve tells him, and that must surprise Eddie, because his head jerks up, eyes flickering over to Steve. The skin between his eyebrows pulls together briefly before smoothing back out, but Steve catches it. He sees it.

Eddie chews on his lip. Studies Steve from his sideways glance. Then very slowly, very quietly says, "you don't have to be."

"Oh?" Steve says.

Eddie shrugs, shifts a little so his shoulders are squared with Steve's a little more. "I just mean... I didn't— mind it."

"Oh," Steve breathes.

"You could... you could probably even do it again," Eddie says, blinks over at Steve through his eyelashes. "If you wanted."

"Oh."

Eddie laughs then, soft and fluttery from the leftover nerves of his confession. "Jeez, Harrington," he starts, "is that all you know how to—"

He doesn't get to finish that thought, though. Because Steve cuts him off with a hand to his jaw, curling beneath his chin, drawing him in, and then he's kissing him again. Properly, this time. Not some fleeting, accidental thing, but a firm, purposeful one.

Eddie sinks into it, and Steve kisses him the way he's always wanted to — slow, sweet, deep enough to curl his toes.

When they break apart, Eddie's eyes stay closed, but his mouth chases Steve's, body swaying after his. He's breathing a little heavy, and Steve has to bite back a grin. He did that.

Eddie blinks open his eyes, big and wide and dazed. "Oh," he says, and Steve laughs.

The apples of Eddie's cheeks are rosy, and they're close enough that Steve can see the feint freckles that dot the bridge of his nose. They pop against the pretty pink of his blush.

Eddie shoves at Steve's shoulder, huffing out a laugh of his own. He doesn't let Steve go far, though, holding onto his arm.

"Jesus," Eddie says, laughing again, this giddy little thing, and he wipes a hand over his face, tries to hide his smile behind it.

Steve grabs his hand, pulls it back down so he can see it. He loves the way it lights Eddie's face up.

"That was nothing like this morning," Eddie says.

Steve shrugs. "Wasn't really thinking this morning," he replies. "I just, y'know, did." He thumbs over the side of Eddie's hand, likes how their palms feel pressed together. "I guess I got so caught up in the moment that I just — didn't hold back. I just let myself do what I've wanted to do for a really long time."

The corners of Eddie's mouth twitch and his dimples come out to play as he tries to stop himself from grinning even bigger. It doesn't work, and Steve doesn't keep himself from brushing his thumb against one of them.

"Y'know," Eddie says, catching Steve's wrist. "it's kind of dangerous, what you did this morning."

Steve raises an eyebrow. "Is it?"

Eddie nods. "Oh yeah, real dangerous. 'Cause I could really get used to that," he tells Steve. "Making you breakfast. Fixing your tie. Kissing you every morning on your way to work."

Steve's heart skips a beat in his chest as he pictures it — waking up tangled in the sheets with Eddie. Sharing toast and coffee and sleepy smiles over the table, playing footsie under it. Almost making himself late because Eddie keeps pulling at the clothes Steve's only just put on, trying to get him to take them off again. Hurrying out the door, but not before he stops to give Eddie a kiss goodbye. A kiss see you later. "A regular little housewife, now, aren't you?" Steve teases, chuckling.

Something sparkles in Eddie's eyes, and he leans in close. "Darlin' if you kiss me like that every time, I'll be anything for you."

Isn't that a promise?

And what better way to seal that promise than with a kiss?

So Steve does.

[urhoneycombwitch]

65 w/ sbeve (if ur up for it 🫶🏻)

65- “you’re being particularly insufferable today”

foreword: for Syl @thecreelhouse <3 from Lulu xx

cw: public sex (bar bathroom, no one sees/overhears), dommy Steve, hittin' it from the back in this one folks, R w breasts + V

___

Your hair is threaded between the fingers of Steve’s right hand, palm warm and wide at the back of your head, pressure light but enough to have your cheek pressing into the bathroom door. 

Your entire front is flush to the wood, as well- tits spilling obscenely from the front of your tight dress as Steve ruts into you, cock sliding easily with a coating of your arousal. He slides all the way into your pulsing cunt, hips stilling against yours, waiting for your breath to return in choking gasps before nipping behind your ear.

“Gotta be quieter than the music, right, honey?” His voice is caramel-sweet, in stark contrast to the sharp tug at the roots of your hair. “Don’t want the whole bar hearin’ you get these pretty brains fucked out.”

Another deep drag of his cock in, out, and this time when he sinks back into you he angles his hips up, hitting that gummy spot against your front wall. A whine slips out before you can catch it, thighs and knees trembling; Steve shifts to take more of your weight, pinning you in place and chiding again- “Hush. You can take it.”

You feel a little delirious, orgasm building at the edges of your pleasure, Steve’s fingers (the ones that aren’t pulling your hair) rubbing slick over your throbbing clit. In stilted whisper, you get out- “you’re b-being particularly- ah- insufferable, today, Steve.”

He chuckles without any humor (makes your damn toes curl), hitting that spot again just to see your brows pinch in pleasure. “Careful, baby, you know how riled up I get when you use big words.”

Caramel turned bittersweet, Steve’s using teeth set to bruise at the base of your neck, that sensitive spot where shoulder muscle curves in; a cry gets smothered behind your teeth as you squirm against the full, solid weight of him along your back. 

“That’s good,” he coos, purring and kissing over the mark he’s made, lips soft and repentant on your skin. “I’ll let you come before the song’s over if you keep this up.”

“You’re on, Harrington.”

You regret expending the effort it takes to get those words out because as soon as you do, Steve’s setting a merciless rhythm, pistoning into you with impressive speed and strength. The breath gets punched from your lungs (probably a blessing in disguise), jaw going slack in silent rapture, eyes rolling up behind fluttering lids. 

Steve murmurs your praises as he feels you clench tighter around his cock, picks up the pace to start fucking you through it. To your credit (and to the tune of Steve’s glowing compliments growing hoarser by the moment), you’re quiet when you come, biting into the meat of your own hand to stifle any noises that do manage to bleed through.

The same can’t be said for the moan Steve lets out as his cock pulses inside of you, way too loud for the small space- Jolene is playing over the bar speakers, but it isn’t totally enough to cover the sound of him coming. 

You laugh, unintentionally clenching up further, Steve nudging at your cheek with his nose, panting and whining now- “Honey- please. Please stop laughing. Fuck me…”

“Sorry-” you do your best to relax, giggles still overtaking in brief spasms- “...it’s just. You were way louder than I was. After all that ‘telling me to be quiet’ stuff…”

“All right.” Steve’s huffy (not annoyed enough yet to pull out, apparently), thumb skimming fondly over the curve of your arm. “Now who’s being insufferable.”

[estrellami-1]

Never Forgot

Based on this post.

Steve knew something was wrong when she ran out of the room, choking back tears.

He felt bad, felt like there was something missing, but he didn’t remember her. Thinking about it, he realized he didn’t really remember anything.

“Robin?” Dustin asked when she all but ran out of the hospital room.

She stifled a sob and collapsed onto the bench next to him, holding a hand over her mouth. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Dustin, he… he doesn’t remember me.”

Dustin took a deep breath and very carefully did not freak out. “Okay. You stay here, I’ll go talk to him. See if we can shake it loose or something.” He rolled his eyes at the look she gave him. “Not literally, Buckley, jeez. Keep your pants on.”

He squared his shoulders and walked into the hospital room. Steve looked fine, if tired—hospital lighting never did anyone any favors—but the absent smile he sent Dustin spoke volumes. “Hi,” he said quietly, stilted in a way he never was anymore. Not with Dustin. “Um, can you apologize to her for me? She seemed really upset and I’m not sure what I did but I think it’s my fault.”

Dustin sighed and sat in the chair by Steve’s hospital bed. “You really don’t remember her, huh.” It wasn’t a question, so Steve didn’t answer. “And I’m guessing you don’t remember me, either?”

Steve picked at the blanket on his lap. “I’m sorry.”

“Jesus fuck,” Dustin whispered, screwing his eyes shut. “Don’t apologize, Jesus, it’s not your fault. It just… sucks.”

Steve snorted. “Imagine waking up and only remembering one person.”

Dustin looked up at him sharply. “One person?”

Steve shrugged. “Guess I’d be a pretty shitty boyfriend if I didn’t, yeah.”

“Boyfriend?” Dustin blinked. “Steve, you’re not dating anyone.”

Steve frowned. “I am. Maybe you don’t know him? Eddie? Eddie Munson?”

“Eddie- Christ, Steve, of course I know Eddie, and you two aren’t dating. You’re, like, as straight as they come.”

“No- no, I am, I’m dating him, I’m- we’re-”

“Whoa, okay, hold up, calm down,” Dustin said, holding his hands out. “It’s fine, dude, okay, we’ll figure it out later but I don’t think you should be stressing this hard after just waking up.”

Steve hummed. “What, uh. What actually happened to me?”

Dustin sighed. “The doctors said your body essentially performed a hard reset. You’ve been running on fumes for too long. You collapsed from sheer exhaustion. At least you didn’t hit your head this time, though maybe that would’ve prevented you from losing your memory, so who fuckin’ knows.”

“Language,” Steve chided, then blinked when Dustin looked at him excitedly. “I don’t know where that came from.”

Dustin just laughed. It was only a little forced. “You’re just incapable of not being a mom.”

——————————

Robin went back in next, lightly tapping Dustin’s shoulder as she passed him in the doorway. He shook his head, and her heart sank. “He-” Dustin shook his head, bit his lip. “He thinks he and Eddie are dating. Eddie’s the only person he remembers.”

Robin gave him a little half-smile. “He’s had a crush on Eddie for a while. I didn’t realize it was this bad, but.” She shrugged. “I’ll talk to him. You call everyone else?”

“Yeah.”

She took a deep breath and walked into the room. “So,” she started. “You really don’t remember?”

Steve shook his head, eyebrows pinched. “I’m sorry. I wish I did.”

“Dustin said you remember one person?”

“Mhm. Eddie.”

“Right. And you and Eddie? What are you?”

Steve frowned even deeper. “Boyfriends. If we’re this close, shouldn’t you know that?”

Robin shrugged. “I’d like to think so. That’s why Dustin and I aren’t convinced you are dating. Maybe your memories are just… really vivid daydreams.”

“You really think so?”

Robin sighed heavily. “I don’t know what to think, Steve. Hell, I didn’t even know how bad it was until you collapsed. Some soulmate I am.”

“With a capital P,” Steve said, holding up a hand before Robin could say anything. “Sometimes certain memories are triggered. It’s… like a puzzle piece slotting into place. But I’ve got about a million more pieces missing. I can’t see what that specific piece connects to.”

Robin hums. “Okay. So you remember Eddie. And if I say Hellfire..?” Steve just frowned. “Or… Metallica?”

Steve smiled. “Yeah, I know that one.”

“Did you know that before I said it?”

Steve nodded. “Hellfire’s related to Eddie?”

Robin chuckled. “You could say that.”

“What is it?”

She laughed again. “I think I’ll let your boyfriend explain that one.”

“Even though you don’t believe we’re dating.”

Robin spread her hands. “Soulmates with a capital P, Steve. I can’t think of any reason you wouldn’t at least tell me. Especially since you know—err, knew—I’m a lesbian.”

Steve frowned. “Maybe Eddie didn’t want to? Does he know?”

“Yup.”

“Oh.” He frowned again. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

She sighed. “I’m not asking you to have all the answers. Especially now. Just… think about it, yeah?”

“I will,” he promised. “Um. Are you okay?”

“Jesus, Steve.” Robin laughed. It was only mostly hysterical. “Of course you’d still be thinking about everyone else. I’m fine. Or- I will be. You just take care of yourself, dingus.”

He chuckled. “Will do, Robbie.”

She sighed. “Another puzzle piece?” He nodded. “Alright. I’m gonna go track down Dustin and see where he’s at with all the other ankle-biters.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” She lingered for a half-second, then sighed again and walked out.

——————————

He was released two days later. Drove himself home, Robin in the passenger seat and Dustin in the back row. Dustin quizzed him about the rest of the Party the whole way home, made sure Steve knew their names forwards, backwards and upside down, as well as what everyone was like. “Max is kickass,” he said. “Like, she’ll absolutely smile in your face as she knees you in the balls. And it’s the kinda smile that strikes fear into a man. She’s awesome. And-”

“Okay,” Steve said, amused. He didn’t know how Dustin could go that long without a breath. “I’ll know what you’re talking about as soon as we get out of the car and get inside, right?”

Dustin yelped when he looked up to see them parked before scrambling out the door and running inside.

Steve grinned at Robin, who grinned back, before they made their way inside, albeit at a slower pace than Dustin had.

Steve vaguely recognized everybody, but his attention focused in on a very specific person. “Eds.”

Eddie smiled, small and soft and sweet, one of Steve’s favorites. “Heya, Stevie.”

Suddenly he couldn’t help himself. He had to be with Eddie, right then, it couldn’t wait, so he didn’t. Practically flung himself at Eddie, like he knew Eddie would catch him (he did). Attaches his mouth to Eddie’s, a silent promise, I never forgot you, flowing between them.

When they pulled back, Eddie stared at him like he’d hung the fucking sun. “You remember?” Eddie asked in a whisper.

“Never forgot,” Steve promised, at the same volume.

“What. The actual. Fuck,” Robin said. Eddie and Steve froze as they turned to face her and the rest of the Party, who were all staring with the same expression.

“Fuck,” Eddie whispered. “We forgot to tell Robin.”

[skz-streamer]

Why I Fell For You

Simptober Small Things You Do M-list

Pairing: Felix (skz) x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/comfort

Warnings:

Notes: literal sweetheart, :((((( I love him so muchhh. I dont rlly think this does justice to him but whateverrr :///

-please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people

Word count - 664;)

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

The morning sun bathed the room in a gentle light, casting a warm glow over the stillness that had settled in after a night of unease. The argument from the previous evening lingered like a haunting specter, leaving both you and Felix in a state of disquiet. It was a restless night, marked by a conspicuous silence, and the awkwardness in the air felt heavy and oppressive.

The disagreement had begun innocuously enough, a minor misunderstanding that had unexpectedly snowballed into a full-blown argument. Your intention was simple – to express your affection and connect with Felix during his work hours, mirroring the love and attention he consistently showered upon you. However, it seemed like your well-intentioned efforts had crossed a line, and it left both of you feeling hurt and misunderstood.

With the dawn of a new day, you held onto a glimmer of hope that it would bring a fresh start, an opportunity to mend the rift that had grown between you and Felix. He broke the silence with a gentle but firm directive, "Get ready," and there was something resolute in his voice that compelled you to obey. You dressed up in a cute ensemble, the anticipation of the upcoming day carrying a hint of trepidation and hope.

Felix led you to a charming little restaurant, one of those hidden gems that seemed untouched by the hustle and bustle of the world outside. Delicate pastries, exquisitely crafted, beckoned from the display, and the aroma of fragrant tea filled the air. The ambiance was tranquil, with the soft murmur of other patrons providing a soothing backdrop. Despite the picturesque setting, the lingering tension seemed to be a stubborn guest, unwilling to depart.

As you both settled into your seats, the conversation was tentative, stilted at best. The burden of the unresolved argument weighed heavily upon you, and the silence between you two felt like an insurmountable divide. You were desperate to bridge the gap, to ease the awkwardness, and finally, you mustered the courage to speak.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—" you began, but Felix, ever the considerate one, gently interrupted you, his voice a soft murmur in your ear. "Shhh, don't worry about it, hon."

His arms enveloped you in a comforting embrace, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his heart, a reassuring beat against your chest. In that embrace, he began to speak, his voice filled with heartfelt sincerity.

"I'm deeply sorry for what I said last night," Felix confessed earnestly. "It was rude of me, and I really didn't mean it. I cherish your texts throughout the day, and I beg you not to stop."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked up at him, the emotion in his eyes mirroring your own. It became apparent that the argument had taken a toll on him, just as it had on you. The raw vulnerability at that moment, as you held each other close, felt profound and healing.

Felix leaned in to kiss your cheek tenderly, his lips a gentle caress. His gaze met yours, and you could see the glint of moisture in his eyes, a testament to the depth of his feelings. Your own eyes mirrored his, and you smiled, a small but genuine one, in acknowledgment of his apology and the love that bound you both.

He took your hand, fingers interlocking, and guided you to sit closer to him, abandoning the space across the table. The physical closeness felt like a bridge, spanning the emotional gap that had separated you earlier. Your fingers brushed against each other as you shared a delicate tart, the sweetness of it resonating with the newfound warmth in your relationship.

As Felix bit into a tart, a playful giggle escaped his lips, breaking the tension that had haunted you for so long. You couldn't help but ask, "What's so funny?"

His eyes twinkled with affection, and he responded, "I don't know. I just love you so much."

————————————

Tags:  @eee5533 @mixtape-racha @cherry-edibles @ren0325 @felixvsp @hwangrimi @sanriiolino @painstakingly-juno @herarcadewasteland @dabiscrustyfeet @kai-jilee  @sungiesoonie  @slvtty4channiee @revelaffee @buckys-pillow, @staygirl86 @chlodavids @jinnie-ret @bbygrlhannie @rebecca-johnson-28  @turtledove824  @interstellarairwaves @yearofthetiger25 @minhos4thkitty @fiqire @backintomykpopphaseagain @liknws @tinyelfperson @aaasia111

[astrayas]

Pressure Point

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x fem reader 

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex

WC: 6k

Summary: When you run into Toji Fushiguro for the first time in years, you find him in the most unexpected position: as your new massage therapist.

18+!!!

Ao3 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“…So she wasn’t able to make it in today. I’m so sorry for the short notice!”

You sling your bag back onto your shoulder and rub your neck, masking your disappointment with a polite smile. 

“Oh…that’s a shame,” you say. You were really looking forward to your appointment today. Your usual masseuse is nothing less than an artist, and you’ve got plenty of knots to work out right now. “Well, when’s the next time she’s free?”

“Since you’re one of her regulars, I think we could work you in tomorrow…” the manager chirps, clicking at her computer. She takes a few minutes, clearly unfamiliar with the software. They’re really understaffed today. “But…oh! Actually, there is someone available to take you right now.”

“Oh?” You perk back up again, which is all it takes to strain your muscles. You wince just a bit. You really need some relief.

“Yes! He’s actually our top massage therapist. His new clients normally have to book him months in advance, but it looks like he had a cancellation today. I can go grab him, if you’re interested!”

You deflate just a little. Him? You’ve never seen a male massage therapist, and you weren’t planning to start today. Then your shoulder whines at you again, as if to protest your hesitation, and you’re rubbing at it before you realize it.

Well, if he’s really that good…

“Um. Sure,” you force out. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all!” She springs to her feet and graces you with a polished customer service smile. “Please, have a seat. I’ll go let him know.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, a rush of nerves guiding your short, stilted steps to the nearest chair. You flop into it and try to reason with yourself. If you get uncomfortable, you can just leave. But he’s their top massage therapist. He obviously knows what he’s doing, and you really need—

“Nuh-uh. I don’t do walk-ins.”

A loud, gruff voice booms from the hallway, clearly audible through the thick waiting room door. Whoever’s speaking doesn’t seem to care about indoor voices. You have to strain to hear the manager’s response.

“She’s not a walk-in!” she argues. “She had an appointment, but Rei called out at the last minute.”

“Sounds like that’s Rei’s problem, then.”

After a few seconds of silence, you stand up. This sounds like more trouble than it’s worth. You can wait another day; you’ll just tell them you’ll reschedule. 

“Come on! This client’s been coming to us for years. We can’t lose her!” the manager pleads. 

“You can’t lose her. I’ll be just fine.”

Your lip curls in disgust as you hoist your bag over your aching shoulder. People book this guy months in advance? Whatever. You can just leave and call them later. But as you turn to walk out the door, you hear one last exchange.

“Ugh…how about this? I’ll give you a few extra days off next month.”

You pause mid-step. 

“…I want a week.”

“A week?”

“I’ve been working my fingers to the bone for you for God knows how long. I want a week, or I walk.”

Another long, heavy silence, but you’re still listening.

“…Fine. Fine. I’ll make it happen. Just go out there and be pleasant, alright?”

“I’m never anything but,” the gruff voice hums, and you can just barely hear the manager groan as the door flies open. The strap on your bag slides down your shoulder at the same moment, and you look down as you pull it back up with a grimace.

“You must be the one Rei stranded today. Nice to meet you. I’m—“

He freezes mid-sentence. When you finally look back up, you freeze, too.

“Toji…” you murmur.

You’ve lost count of the years it’s been since you and Toji Fushiguro parted ways. But you could go a century without seeing that face and still recognize it. The scar on his mouth, his fierce green eyes, his strong, chiseled frame…none of it’s really easy to forget.

But it’s his most unforgettable feature—his big, wolfish grin—that traps you in place when it’s clear he recognizes you, too.

“Well, well,” he croons, an irritating melody ringing in his voice as he holds the door open and extends his hand. “Come on back, ma’am. Last door on the left.”

You shuffle past him without so much as a “Thank you” and grip the strap of your bag tight. God, why did it have to be him? Out of all the people who could have walked out of that door, why him?

You step into the room he pointed you to and take it in with wide eyes. This is certainly a step up from your usual setup with Rei. It’s bigger, but the atmosphere is so much more intimate. Soft, ambient music drifts through the room. Candles flicker on select small tables lining the perimeter of the space, playing on the velvety flower petals artfully arranged on the floor and the massage table. It’s downright romantic.

But it’s the table itself, lying in the center of the room, that draws most of your attention. It’s plush and oversized, draped in crisp, clean linens and adorned with a fluffy duvet and a lavish pillow. It almost looks like it was made for sleeping instead.

And it looks…sturdy.

“So. Been a while since you up and vanished,” Toji says with little ceremony, shutting the door behind him. “What have you been—”

“So is this a sex thing? Is that what you do here?” you blurt out. He blinks at you, mouth falling slightly open, and crosses his arms.

“Wow. That’s the first thing you say to me in six years?” he rasps.

Six years. It’s been six long years. 

You blink back at him a few more times before you register what you just said, and you slap a hand to your mouth several seconds too late. 

“Uh—shit—” you stutter, your hand rising to slap your forehead. “I didn’t mean—” 

After some lengthy floundering, which he lets you do in perfect silence, your hands finally drop to your sides, and you heave a deep sigh.

“I just—this is a big bed—”

“You mean a massage table.”

“And apparently you’re the most requested guy here—”

“Because I’m a good massage therapist.”

“And you were a criminal the last time we talked!” you finish. Your voice rises a little more than you intended, and that goddamned knot in your shoulder spasms. You rub at it desperately and take a calming breath. 

Something like a low growl rumbles in Toji’s chest as he strolls over to the sink and washes his hands. 

“If I’m remembering correctly—and I am—you weren’t an upstanding citizen back then, either,” he flings back. He dries his hands, turns back around, and leans against the counter, looking you up and down. “At least my crimes were impressive.”

You set your bag on a nearby chair and scoff at him. “Yeah. So impressive I just couldn’t bear to live in your shadow anymore.”

“Cute,” he sneers. “You want the damn massage or not? Because you clearly need it.”

“Oh, like you can really tell—”

“Your right shoulder. That one’s obvious.” He pushes himself away from the counter and closes the distance between you with just a couple steps. “You keep rubbing at it like a maniac. But the way you’re standing right now tells me you have pain in your lower back, too. Right about…” He circles behind you, a shadow of a grin growing on his face before he disappears from your sight. You shiver when he rests a large, strong hand exactly where the small of your back hurts the most. “...Here.”

You spin back around and scowl at him. He holds his hands up in an innocent gesture.

“Yeah, those are my biggest problem areas,” you mutter. 

“Then let’s take care of ‘em,” he proposes, sauntering over to the door. “Believe it or not, I am a professional now. I take my clients seriously.”

His eyes glint when he turns the knob.

“Even petty thieves like you.”

Your blood pressure instantly shoots through the sky. 

“Don’t think I won’t—” you start, unsure of what vague threat you’re about to make, but he’s already halfway out the door.

“I’ll give you a few minutes to get undressed,” he nearly sings. “Start out face-down.”

And with that, he’s gone. The door shuts with a click, leaving every stupid knot in your back to tense up and scream even louder. You don’t even bother hanging your clothes on any of the hooks nearby, opting to pelt them to the floor instead. Infuriating. He’s infuriating. He’s every bit as infuriating as he was all those years ago, when you were just two delinquents among many wreaking havoc in town.

Back when you thought he was the sexiest, funniest, dreamiest guy on earth.

You smack some petals off the table before you settle under the sheets, lying on your stomach. Whatever. It’s not like the feeling was mutual. What did you even see in him back then, anyway? Other than the eyes and the muscles and the voice and the face and the—

Toji knocks on the door.

“You decent?” he calls from the other side. 

“No,” you sniff. “But I’m under the sheet. You can come in.”

He chuckles as he lets himself back in and promptly closes the door. You can only see his feet as he walks past you and stops at the counter, and he shakes a bottle.

“Alright. So, I know your shoulder and your lower back are your biggest problems right now, but I’ll find your other pressure points as we work,” he announces, instantly professional. “But first, I need to ask if you’ve got any areas I should avoid.”

“Nope,” you inform the floor. “It’s all up for grabs.”

He laughs again, and you curse yourself under your breath. What an atrocious choice of words. 

“Good to know,” he hums. Ugh. He sounds too pleased. 

Your heart skips as soon as he pulls the sheet down from your shoulders all the way to just above your backside. He gets straight to work, starting by feeling for tight areas.

“Yeesh. You’ve got trigger points all the way down your back,” he marvels. “It’s almost impressive.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” you sigh.

You have to admit it: even now, even as he just searches and assesses, his touch is divine. It must be thanks to those dexterous fingers, those powerful hands, his shocking familiarity with every part of the human body…

You squeeze your eyes shut in a desperate bid to push the thoughts out. Stupid. Stupid. What a stupid crush you had on him. You start talking just to fill your head with something, anything else.

“How’d you even fall into this line of work? It’s not—“ Your breath hitches when you hear him squeeze some oil onto his hands and rub them together. “It’s, um…just not a career path I ever thought you’d take.”

You can hear the grin in his response. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to help people?”

You answer with some snorting laughter, which tells him enough.

“Thought not,” he sighs. “No point in lying, then.” His hands work their way to the rough spot on your shoulder, and you brace yourself. “Honestly? It’s good money. That’s all there is to it.”

“That I believe,” you answer, screwing your eyes shut when he starts working that knot. This is going to be a rough session, you just know it.

“Jesus, you’re tight,” he mumbles, genuine shock lining his voice. “What do you do these days?”

“I’m just an office worker,” you grunt. You take a deep breath when he digs in again. 

“An office worker and…what? A cage fighter? A trapeze artist? These are insane knots for an office worker.”

“I’ve got—phew—I’ve got really bad posture,” you mutter. You squirm under his movements. 

“Clearly. You must be hunched over 24/7.”

This time, you don’t answer him. Deep tissue massages can hurt, sure, but this is on a whole new level. You bear with him for about another minute before you wave him away.

“God, Toji, are all your clients masochists?!” you cry, glaring at the floor. You keep lying flat on your stomach, waiting for the pain to ebb away.

“…Some are,” he croons.

Your hands tense at your sides. “So it is—”

“I’m joking, damn,” he huffs. He switches to your other shoulder and, mercifully, handles it with a lot less pressure. “I mean, I’m sure some are. I wouldn’t know. People just come to me when they’ve got injuries and chronic issues. When it comes to that slow, painful deep tissue massage, I’m the best around.”

“Solving pain with pain,” you remark. He slides down to the middle of your back and digs into a spot just to the left of your spine. “That does sound right up your alley.”

“...I see you’ve still got a mouth on you,” he grumbles, and whether consciously or not, he pushes down especially hard. You suck in a breath and screw your eyes shut. “How’d you land a cushy office job with your attitude?”

“I learned when to keep my mouth shut,” you fight to answer, focusing on your breathing. “I was wondering the same thing about you, based on that conversation I heard in the hallway. Do you always talk to your managers like that?”

“Ha!” He pulls his hands away and rubs some more oil between them. “Only the ones who can’t afford to lose me. Business has been booming since I started here. And, damn, you should see the tips I get.”

“Tips?” you squawk, pushing yourself onto your elbows and staring up at him. “What do you mean, you get tips? What do you do to earn tips?”

“Um.”

Toji clears his throat and looks to the side. It’s only when he physically covers his eyes with his hand do you realize you pushed yourself so far up you nearly exposed your chest. 

“Oh. Sorry…” you mumble, flopping back down. Heat erupts on your skin. You’re really excelling at making an ass of yourself today.

“What’s with you?” he grunts. He presses a palm against that sore spot at the small of your back. “We’re allowed to accept tips here. Why are you so sure I’m just doing weird sex stuff?”

Before you can answer, he starts applying pressure to the spot. Lots of it. To your surprise, it actually feels…good. So in lieu of a response, you simply let out a groan that lasts a little too long. And just beneath it, just for a moment, you swear you can hear a pleased sound humming in him, too.

“Don’t tell me…” His thumbs rub the small of your back in slow, deep circles. “...you were hoping for it?”

Your eyes shoot open. But he pushes in again, granting you deeper relief, and you lose the will to snap back at him. Not when he’s finally easing all that tension.

“Are you disappointed I don’t offer any special services?”

“Gimme a break,” you manage to say. But that’s all you say before his hands slide down to your glutes. Over the sheet, of course, like a professional, and he’s stroking them like any professional massage therapist would. But that doesn’t change the fact that, in a less professional sense…his hands are still on your ass.

“Well, I don’t blame you,” he boasts. He slides a little lower. He’s…really working those glutes. “I know why I really get so many requests. I know why my tips are so great. I mean, just look at me—”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you spit, wriggling out of his hands and flipping onto your back. You’re careful to keep the sheet over your chest this time. “I heard enough of that for a lifetime back in the day.”

“Hey. I’m not done with your back,” he pouts, frowning at you.

“Can we come back to it later? You’re gonna break it at this rate.”

“Coulda just asked me to be gentler.” He lifts the sheet away from your left leg and takes your foot in his hand. “I can do that.” 

As if to prove his point, he uses a single thumb to gently stroke the inside of your arch. Exactly where it aches after a long day in heels. How did he know that was a sore spot, too?

“I listen to my clients,” he continues, stretching out your foot and sliding up your leg. He starts kneading the lowest part of your thigh, just above the knee. “Another reason why I end the day with so much extra cash.”

“I get it,” you mutter. “You have an awesome job and you make lots of money because you’re super hot. Congratulations.”

“Super hot, huh?” he whirs. “I mean, I know, but it’s nice to hear from that mouth you allegedly know how to keep shut.”

“Ugh.” You desperately try to focus your attention on the soothing motions of his fingers. “Can’t believe I used to have such a big crush on you.”

For a moment, for a fleeting, measly fraction of a second, his hands jerk. Then they pick back up as usual, gliding a little farther up your thigh. It takes him a few seconds to answer.

“Did you, now?”

Your brows furrow, but you keep your eyes closed.

“C’mon, Toji, it was so obvious,” you sigh. “There’s no way you didn’t know.”

“I really didn’t,” he says flatly. His fingers dig a little deeper into your skin. “We ran with a big group, remember? I…didn’t get to see you as much as I wanted to.”

You shift a bit under his touch. “As much as you wanted to?”

“...See? You didn’t know I had a thing for you, either.” 

His fingers linger on your thigh, rubbing the same spot over and over. Finally, you open your eyes. You sit up to rest on your elbows and look right at him. And in the dim, flickering candlelight, you take a moment to really study his face for the first time in six years. 

Six years that haven’t done much to age him, really. His jaw is still strong and sharp. The deep scar etched into his lip still hasn’t faded. His hands, which you’ve become very familiar with today, are still powerful, with veins and tendons that ripple just beneath the skin, with fingertips calloused but not rough. And his muscles are still toned and strong, if that tight black t-shirt has anything to say about it. 

“Well. What could have been, right?” you murmur. You glance to the side and let your head fall back onto the table; you can’t bear to hold eye contact any longer. 

After a long, tense moment, he pulls the sheet back over your left leg and moves to your other side.

“...Yeah. What could’ve been.”

He moves up your leg the same way he did the first, every knead and stroke therapeutic, but something feels different about his touch. It’s more…clinical. Truly professional now. Like you’re just any other client.

You fight the sinking feeling in your chest. The fact that he never showed he was interested in you stings a little, but that doesn’t matter anymore. There’s a reason you left the way you did. Toji wasn’t good for you, and you weren’t good for him. Nobody in that group you ran with was good for each other. You had to leave while you were still just a petty thief. Before you started racking up “impressive” crimes like him.

Toji’s still quiet as he pulls the sheet back over your legs and moves to the head of the table, settling on a rolling chair and scooting forward. You open your eyes again but look at nothing in particular. You don’t know what to look at. You don’t know what to say.

His hands slide under your shoulders, searching for that especially tight spot again. The moment he finds it, he digs in. You clench your teeth and bear it. Working out a knot can hurt. He’s doing his job. Just let him do his job. Just let him—

“Why’d you leave?”

Your eyes fly back open. His hands haven’t stopped working, but they have slowed.

“What?” you squeak.

“Why did you leave?” he repeats. You glance up and find him staring right back down at you, those deep green eyes glimmering even in the dim light. “Why did you just up and leave like that? No note, no nothin’?”

“Because…” You take a deep breath. It’s been a while since you’ve thought about those days. “Because I just couldn’t keep going like that. I couldn’t keep spending every day scoping out targets, planning which stores I’d hit next. I had to get out and make something of myself. I did it, and…look, you did it, too.”

“But why did you leave like that?” he carries on, his voice tinged with something close to desperation. “Why did you just disappear? Do you know how much that killed me? To just lose you like that, overnight, no explanation?”

You fight against a new sensation in your chest. It’s something rising, growing, gnawing. 

“Because if I’d said anything, you would’ve tried to make me stay,” you answer. 

“I couldn’t sleep at night wondering what happened to you.”

“You were the only one who could have made me stay.”

“When I could sleep, you were in my dreams.”

“You never needed me, Toji! You didn’t need me then, and you don’t need me now!”

“Fuck you for thinking that. And fuck you for just leaving.”

“Fuck you for making me think you wouldn’t care!”

He doesn’t respond to you before he flies to his feet, takes a breath, and walks back to the other end of the table.

“Lie back,” he says. “We’re not done with your massage.”

“Huh?”

“Lie back,” he repeats. “I’ve got some more pressure points to work out.”

“Uh…alright?” you mutter, and slowly, you settle back onto the table and stare at the ceiling. Goosebumps rise on your skin when he pulls the sheet back from one leg again, lifting it all the way to the top of your thigh this time. He squeezes some more oil onto his hands and rests his palm on your knee.

“Did you know you’ve got a lot of tension down here, too?” he asks, his voice low. 

“I mean, it wouldn’t surprise me. I’m tense everywhere.”

“You really are,” he confirms with a soft laugh. “Like…when I was massaging your legs, I kept feeling you tense up when I got around…” His fingers snake their way to your inner thigh. “Here.”

You suck in a breath. “Well, that’s a sensitive area, so…”

And you’re sure you’re tensing up now. But the heated exchange you just shared is still ringing in your ears. That would leave anyone tense, right? 

And it’s normal for your legs to part when they’re tense…right?

Your other leg has only moved a few inches away. But it’s a shift big enough for Toji to notice, and he glances down with a smirk.

“Is it, now?” he purrs. His fingers crawl a little higher up your leg. “Sensitive here, too?”

“Uh-huh…” you murmur, gripping the sheet below you. He’s reaching pretty far up. If he keeps going, it won’t be long before he finds out just how sensitive you’ve been from the moment he started touching you.

But you don’t stop him. You don’t want to.

“And how about—” he starts, but he stops himself when his thumb swipes across one part of your inner thigh a little too quickly. Like it slipped on something slick. 

Your eyes shoot over to him. Well, secret’s out now. But still…you were dripping that far down your leg? That’s almost embarrassing.

His expression, though, suggests he doesn’t think so.

“Oh…” he whispers with a heavy voice, a strained voice, a voice that tells you all professionalism just flew out the window. “I think I know where you’re holding a lot of tension.”

Your heart flutters when his fingers dance their way up to the source of all that tension, when his knuckles graze it with all the pressure of a feather. It starts to ache the same way it did for him years ago, when you thought he never had eyes for you.

“Think you can help me with it?” you invite, parting your legs a little wider.

That little smirk grows into the same wolfish grin he first greeted you with. One finger, one long, strong finger, circles your entrance and slides in. You’re melting and moaning in the same moment, relishing the new ferocity lighting up his eyes.

“I think I can,” he breathes, sliding his finger in and out, up and down. “A special service just for you, since you’re just so damn—” Another finger slips in to join the first. “—tight.”

He waits until he’s up to his palm before he curls both fingers upward, searching for that spot, the source of all that pressure inside you. It takes him all of a second to find it. He beckons back and forth, up and down. He spreads his fingers ever so slightly, settling on a pressure that commands all your attention to that area.

You whimper and close your eyes. There’s so much you want to say. You want to find out where he learned to do that. You want to tease him, ask him how much he’s practiced. But this moment would be better spent, you remind yourself, simply enjoying this instead. So you part your legs a little wider and let him demonstrate just how well he’s learned to use his hands.

He leans forward just far enough to let you glue your hands to his shoulders. As he does, his other hand comes down to push just above your pelvis, his palm grazing your clit, and that tension rises higher and higher.

Then he leans in a little more. Every flicker of the candles reveals a new detail you’d missed in his face before. Every night of sleep he lost. Every day he thought of you. Every test he faced to make something more of himself, just like you did. Your hands work their way up to cradle either side.

And that’s it.

His lips are on yours, and his fingers pump faster. You claim each other in a kiss six years overdue, a kiss so desperate and needy and vicious it nearly consumes you. His tongue finds its way into your mouth and explores it freely. His teeth dig into your lower lip, a gesture as rough as his massage, but it brings you nothing but pleasure.

Pleasure that grows and grows and grows with all that tension he’s working out of you, so close to releasing. Your eyes start to flutter; your nails sink into his shoulders; your walls clench tighter and tighter.

“There it is,” he murmurs, encouraging you to keep going. “Let it loose. Let it out. Let me feel you let it out.”

The palm he’d left on your stomach presses down a little harder, condensing all that pressure into a volatile ball. His fingers beckon your pleasure forward quickly, deftly, and you writhe when you feel your tension threaten to release all at once.

And it releases like an explosion, knocking your head back and pushing your back up from the table. You try to buck your hips, but his hold on your pelvis is so strong that you ride out your ecstasy between his hands instead. Your walls convulse around his fingers uncontrollably, which he holds in place until your tumultuous release fades to gentle ripples.

And when those, too, die down, he captures your lips in another greedy kiss.

“How’s that tension?” he asks with a sly grin.

“Hmm…” You hold a finger to your chin and pretend to think. “Better, but I think there’s still some left.”

Your eyes flick down to his pants, which do little to hide what kind of tension he might be feeling now, too.

“If you’re still up for helping me work it out, I mean,” you add, letting the rest of the sheet fall from your chest. He allows himself a brazen, longing glance at it before he stands back up and pulls his fingers out, making you jerk. 

“For such an important new client? Of course,” he hums. And like he just can’t help himself, he’s already slipping a thumb under the waistband of his pants. “If you could just get face-down again, ma’am.”

You giggle and flip back onto your stomach, tossing the rest of the sheet to the floor. Toji lets out a low whistle of appreciation when he finally sees you completely uncovered. 

“Goddamn,” he mutters. And that table proves just as sturdy as you imagined when it barely even jostles as he joins you on it, pushing your legs apart and settling between them on his knees. His hands roam across your body, drawing hard lines between your shoulders, down your back, up and across and around your ass. You turn your face to one side and rest it against the plush table, enjoying every movement of his skilled fingers.

“Goddamn, goddamn,” he repeats, just to really drive the point home. He keeps one hand on your ass while the other pulls itself away. A couple fingers slide up and down your slit, just long enough to make it tingle, and then…he’s lined up with your entrance. A wave of anticipation ripples through you, emerging only as a faint shiver.

“So. Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna push down and push in,” he says, palming the small of your back. “Still gotta work out those knots, after all.”

“Wow. Truly dedicated to your craft,” you snicker. 

“Like I said, I’m a professional. Now, breathe in…”

“Huh? Why?”

“Just do it. Breathe in…”

You look back at him with a raised brow, but you do as he says and take in a deep breath.

“And out…”

You breathe out a lot more quickly than you were planning to when you start feeling pressure everywhere. His thumbs are digging into your back, stroking it in even circles. But he’s pushing into you at the same time, filling you out slowly, completely. The arousal that’s practically pooled inside of you lets him slide in easily, but it still takes a second to adjust to his size. Your face falls back onto the crisp linen sheet beneath you, your eyes closing and your lips parting as you embrace that delectable fullness.

“Good?” he asks behind you once he’s fully buried in you, and one hand slides back down to grab your ass. 

“Very good,” you confirm.

You and Toji groan in tandem when he pulls his hips back, dragging himself slowly along your walls, and pushes back in. The moment you relax around him, he thrusts a little faster. And faster, and faster, and faster, until he has to secure a hold on your hips. 

What a pro, you think to yourself with a smirk. How did he know? How did he know this was just the pressure you needed?

“Just when I was starting to forget about you,” he growls, snapping back against your hips. He doesn’t spare a single inch every time he drives himself back into you. Your jostle forward and bunch what you can of the sheets between your trembling fingers. “I was just starting to forget you, and you had to go and waltz back into my life. That’s just like you.”

Your answer barely comes out as anything more than a few pathetic whimpers. “Then maybe this time—fuck—you shouldn’t—”

His fingers bury themselves in your hips.

“Let me—”

He leans forward until his chest meets your back, his hot breath tickling the nape of your neck. His rhythm starts to falter.

“Go.”

Your words must spark some new flame in him. Because he’s pounding into you mercilessly now, driving deep inside you and hitting that perfect spot again and again. You whimper, you mewl, you muffle your groans against the pillow, and your walls start to flutter around his cock.

“You think I’ll let you go now?” he snarls, a low, rumbling sound that reverberates through your skin. “No. Not now. Not when I’ve finally got you like I’ve always wanted you.”

He plants ravenous, messy kisses against your neck. His teeth graze your shoulder, threatening to clamp down and make good on his claim.

Shit. You’re getting close again. Your groans rise until he has to hold a hand against your mouth. 

And you know you should keep it down, lest you ruin this good job he’s landed for himself. But you can’t stop a wordless cry from trying to push its way through his palm when that tension shatters inside you again, releasing wave after wave of ecstasy. He shudders and hisses behind you, his hips snapping and jerking and stuttering until he pulls out of you. His release lands on your back a moment later.

For a few seconds, neither of you say anything or move a muscle. You simply soak in the afterglow six years in the making, your ragged breaths overpowering the soft, ambient music. Then Toji finally breaks the silence with a simple remark: 

“Fuck.”

“Fuck,” you agree.

You stay on your stomach, eyes closed, as he pushes himself off the massage table and pulls his pants back on. 

“Just a sec,” he mumbles. You simply nod, lying motionless where you are as he wipes his mess off your back. “And…hour’s almost up. I’d like to keep working out your knots all day, believe me, but I do have a client coming in.”

You blink your eyes back open. For a moment, you wonder if you should say what’s on your mind. If this one-time reunion should stay a one-time reunion. But with or against your better judgment, you decide to voice what you really want, instead.

“I’ll just have to come back for another session, then, right?”

You flip back over and sit up to find him already grinning at you.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he chuckles as he finishes buckling his belt. He steps up to you and takes your face in his hands, rubbing a soothing thumb across your cheek. His eyes flick to your lips, and he steals one more long, hard, greedy kiss before he takes the dirty towel with him to the door. “...I’ll give you a minute to get dressed.”

When he shuts the door, you hop off the table onto shaky legs and fumble to put your clothes back on. You comb your fingers through your hair and adjust your skirt, ready to face the world after a truly satisfying…massage.

The manager’s still sitting at the front desk when you walk back into the waiting room. She looks up from her computer and greets you with a big smile.

“Wow, you look happy!” she pipes up. “I take it Toji took good care of you?”

“Yeah,” you say, hoisting your bag back onto your shoulder. Funny. He didn’t spend that much time on it, but it already feels so much lighter. “I feel great.”

Toji appears in the doorway, wiping his hands on a new towel, smirking at you and leaning against the frame.

“I’m so glad to hear that! So, did you want to—”

“Book her for next week,” Toji says so nonchalantly, like he’s just finished up an average session. The manager beams at you, clearly pleased that their center could make it up to you after their blunder today. Toji looks right at you, too, when he shares another note.

“She’s gonna be one of my regulars.”

[bloodyselfshipping]

(Hetalia Main 8 x Reader) How they talk about you!

(Gender Neutral) Headcanons ~

Most people around Alfred would probably not realize you two are romantically involved. The way he talks about you is less like a partner and more like a best friend.

But that said, everyone would know who you are. It’s immediately obvious how close your relationship is. He seems to know everything about you.

He won’t bring you up constantly, but your presence is around him in some way.

“Who are you texting during the meeting?!” “Oh, Y/N! Right now they’re-”

“Who are you inviting?” “Y/N! I really think they’d have fun coming along-”

“Are you free tonight?” “Mm, sorry dude. I’m with Y/N tonight, just like last night, and the night before we-”

But if anyone asks, he loves talking about you. You make everything more fun, so even thinking about you makes him feel so much better!

He doesn’t bring you up much, but when he does it’s so obvious how much he loves you. Always looking in the distance longingly…

Doesn’t share a lot of personal details, probably doesn’t even mention your name. He always calls you nicknames or just “my lover.”

Arthur prefers to keep you his little secret.

“Ah, I have to go. I have an engagement with… someone special.”

So it's usually very stilted and formal, but not because of a lack of affection. He thinks that PDA and gushing about romance in public is tactless, so he refrains.

You’re like royalty to him so he always makes sure to make his respect more apparent than anything. No one is more special to him than you <3

The second most normal out of any of them. Although he always refers to you very romantically, that isn’t very out of line for how he normally is.

It seems as if he sees you as perfect, above others in every way. He always praises you and everything you do, to an absolutely absurd degree.

Always has very specific things he calls you in front of others.

“Ah, this reminds me of my S/O. They are like poetry in motion…”

“Every day I am inspired by Y/N, even the most impressive works of art are nothing compared to them.”

“My eternal love, they are calling to me… I must go!”  “Just say you wanna get outta here!”

He can’t help but gush about how perfect you are. He would say you are nothing less than soulmates.

Yao is a very traditional man. From the start of your relationship, he’s always referred to you as if you were married.

Sometimes he’ll refer to you like those old men who hate their wives, but only because he doesn’t realize the full implications.

“”Aiyaa! Have to go tend to the ball and chain, see you later!”

Except when he says that, he means it affectionately. By “tending to the old ball and chain” he means laying his head in your lap for two hours and telling you about how stupid his friends are.

He’d love nothing more than to just talk to you and you alone, he doesn’t care what anyone else thinks of you two.

Ivan CANNOT stop talking about you! Seriously, everyone is very annoyed by it. But he just can’t hold himself back, he needs everyone to know about how much he loves you.

Anytime anyone brings up something that reminds him of you, he has to go on a whole tangent. God forbid someone brings up an interest of yours, then it goes on forever.

They probably won’t even know your name because he just always uses some adorable pet name for you (:

When he misses you, it’s even worse. Anything just immediately results in,

“My darling used to call me that…” “Because it’s your name!”

If he could, he would bring you everywhere with him. So, he’ll do so in his own way (: (telling everyone who breathes in his direction about you)

Everyone is immediately aware of your existence. He LOVES bringing you up at every opportunity. All his friends need to know about his lovely S/O right now!!!

Definitely tries to show you off.

“You know whose really attractive? My S/O! Look, see!!!”

“I just thought of something funny, one time Y/N did that! But like, they were super hot!”

“Cuore mio, everyone should see how wonderful you are. Don’t be embarrassed!”

When he gets drunk, he can’t help but talk anyone’s ear off about you. About how much you mean to him, about how proud he is of you, a lot of other stuff that seems way too sentimental for an easy-going guy like him.

Often ends up bursting into rooms just to bring news of you. He gets so emotional it can become unbearable for those around him.

He can’t imagine his life without you, and everything is just a reminder of that fact. Feliciano loves you more than anything!

Ludwig wouldn’t not talk about you… but he wouldn’t go out of his way to do so. Not because he’s embarrassed of you, but because he’s embarrassed of how much he’s in love with you!

You make him so soft… and the thoughts of you are constantly distracting him! His darling (you) lives in his head rent-free, damn you!

“Oi Germany, is that a person on your lock-screen?” “N-No! Well… it’s my S/O… don’t make it into a situation!”

He thinks very highly of you, and trusts your judgment completely. Talking to you helps him think out his problems. That fact is so obvious that a lot of times, his friends will call you up for him when he’s panicking.

Not a fan of pet names, and can seem cold about your relationship in public. But don’t let that fool you, he doesn’t want to go a day without you!

Very casual about you. You’re his partner, you matter a lot to him, and he’s not embarrassed about it. 

But he does use his experiences with you to help him relate to others, so you get brought up quite a lot with his friends. When he’s having trouble socially, he tries to remember everything you’ve ever told him and repeat it.

“My S/O had something similar happen to them. May I consult them on this?”

“This reminds me of something that Y/N said to me last week. Shouldn’t we just put the past behind us? They said it’s no good to dwell on these things.”

“Hm… maybe we should just go home and rest before making a decision. Besides, I want to talk to Y/N about this.” “Are you sure you don’t just miss them?” “That is a possibility.”

He acts as if you two are married, but just because you have become so important to him so quickly. You make his life so much better and easier, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[forestshadow-wolf]

Imagine the 141 has a new big target that they can't seem to pin down

And then they eventually do...

And they look exactly like Roba, and Ghost just breaks down. He's shaking and crying, loses his weapon somewhere when he dropped it, and why is the floor getting so close suddenly

Soap sees this and doesn't know what's going on, but he immediately steps infront of Ghost to protect him, and Ghost latches onto his leg, still shaking and scared out of his mind

And soap, he doesn't know what to do, he was told to keep the target alive. But with Ghost's reaction that can't possibly be right, right?

He has his weapon out, but he can't call. For backup because the moment his hand finger leaves the trigger he knows the target will be running. He's stuck between a rock and a hard place.

The target's face splits into a sickening grin, and they step closer. Ghost nearly shrieks, and tries to pull away but he's still latched onto soap, and nearly pulls hom down ontop of him.

Soap barks at the target to stay where they are, but they don't listen. So he shuffles minutely to be more infront of Ghost. He has a decision to make. One that's not really a decision. One that he's about to get in alot of trouble for.

But that doesn't matter. All that matters is ghost, right now.

A low growl rips from his throat at what he's about to do, but it doesn't matter anyway.

/BANG/

The target falls to the ground dead, with a hole right through his brain, and blood spilling into the ground.

He calls it in, even as he's singing down ti ghost's level. Watcher asks him to confirm the target's status, but he ignores it. Watcher is talking to him but he ignores it.

And Ghost looks so small now. It's a wonder how a man so large can make himself so small. And he's almost unresponsive. Almost. He strips them both of their vests, against his better judgment. He rips out Ghost's ear piece when he's still panicking, not listening to him.

He makes Ghost breathe with him, as he holds him tightly to his chest, so that there is no other option but to breathe with him.

And it's Finally when his arms have grown tired that ghost seems to come back to himself a little more.

They have to move, watcher has been yelling at them to acknowledge exfil for the last 2 minutes. The need to gear up again, it's not safe to be this unguarded. Soap ignores it for the moment.

"You killed him." The words come out rough and stilted.

"Yes. Yes, he's dead. Nobody's gonna hurt you. Not while I'm here." Soap responds.

"They needed him alive."

"Did they? Hmm, my bad then." Soap tells him, not sounding even remotely sorry.

They have to move now. He shoves Ghost's vest at him and tells him they have to go.

"They'll punish you. Real bad." Ghost sounds worried.

"I'll be fine." He says, not sounding the least bit worried as he pulls Ghost up with him.

They get to exfil, and debrief when they get to base, omitting Ghost's little fiasco. Soap figures Ghost will tell them if he thinks they need to know. Everything goes smoothly...

Until someone pulls footages. And then soap's pulled in for some talks. They threaten dishonorable discharge, and jail time. Ghost worries. After some very long, very tense meetings, and 2 court hearings, they deem his actions necessary, but put him on an indefinite suspension for disobeying a direct order, for the foreseeable future until its deemed that he has payed proper punishment.

The suspension lasted 2 months, due to Price's insistence that he is necessary for the task force.

[moonstruckme]

hi! i hope you're having a good day<3 i was wondering if you could write a remus x fem!reader where they aren't really dating but everyone knows they like each other (them included) where r has kinda mean friends? like, they leave her out of everything and she constantly feels bad about it. and ever time she tells remus he's like "you should drop them, you deserve better" and he's just trying to get her to see that she deserves better?

Thank you <3

modern au

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 736 words

Remus can feel a heaviness building where you sit on the couch next to him. 

He lets his eyes slide subtly in your direction, and you’re frowning at your phone. Not an upset frown, no pursed lips or drawn brows, just a slight downturn of the corners of your mouth. You look defeated, and Remus can’t abide it. 

“Everything alright, love?”

Predictably, you soften like butter at the endearment, and your expression as you turn to him is kind if not happy. “Yeah, I’m good,” you say, and Remus pretends not to know it’s a lie. He waits. Your eyes drop to his shoulder, one thumbnail picking at the other distractedly. “I just wish…I wish that if my friends were going to hang out without me, they’d at least not post so much about it.” 

A familiar ache starts up in his chest. “Oh no. What’ve they done?” 

You shrug like it’s little to you, but he sees the way you press your lips together, the faint redness creeping up from your neck. He hopes you don’t cry, if only to spare his delicate heart. 

“They’re all at Hannah’s place, I guess. Going to go see the new movie premiere.” You laugh. It sounds raw. “I actually asked them if they wanted to go do that tonight, and they all said they were busy.” 

The frailty of your voice works like glass shards, cleaving Remus clean open. “Darling,” he says, and he doesn’t care that you’re not official enough to acknowledge the endearment in its full capacity. You both know he means it well enough. His hand slides atop yours the way one tempers one ingredient by adding a tiny bit of another before the rest. You soften at his touch, and Remus goes all the way, curling his arms under yours to give your back a firm squeeze. “I know you’re sick of hearing it from me, but they really don’t deserve you.” 

A tiny drop of warm wetness slides from your face to his shirt. His own fault, really, but if a good cry is what you need he’s ready to indulge you. “I just want to know what it is about me that makes me so terrible to be around,” you weep, and Remus crushes you to his front unthinkingly, a protective ire swelling within him. He wishes he could go to your friend’s house and give these girls a talking-to right now, but you probably wouldn’t thank him for it. He settles for dragging his palm up and down your back, hip to shoulder and back again. 

“Don’t say that,” he pleads with you. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” Your sigh is a stilted, shuddering thing. “I’m putting you in an awful position. I don’t mean to fish for compliments.” 

“I know,” he promises, his hand stopping where Remus can feel your heart beating through the material of your shirt. “And I’m not saying it out of any sense of obligation, but you really are lovely to be around. I mean” —he pulls back so you can see his face, hoping the sincerity in it will make some headway against your self-doubt— “would I be here if you weren’t?”

You give him a small smile, thin-lipped. “You’re very nice.” 

Remus laughs, wrapping his fingers around your upper arms and barely restraining himself from trying to shake some sense into you. “I’m not that nice. But okay, Sirius would never hang around anyone he didn’t actually like, can we agree there?” He takes your silence for acquiescence, and, with a gentle smile, goes on. “Every one of our friends sees how kind, and smart, and lovely you are. They” —he shoots a pointed look at your phone— “are the only ones who don’t. That’s how I know you’re not the problem, sweetheart,” he says, softer now. “They are.” 

You look him in the eyes as you take a deep breath. This one goes in and out steadier than the last, and some of the tension in his own chest eases. “Thank you,” you tell him. 

Remus can’t help himself; he pulls you in for another hug, selfish to his core. “No thanks necessary,” he says firmly.

“I guess the only thing to do,” you say, voice muffled against his shoulder, “is to stop trying to make plans with them and hang out exclusively with you.” 

Remus laughs. He doesn’t hate the sound of that.

[luveline]

maybeee if you’re feeling like it, eddie and r disagree over some parenting decision for roan and r doesn’t really wanna overstep but it’s something she feels passionate about

thank you for your request my love! dad!eddie x (nearly) stepmom!reader — tw mentioned child abuse (NOT graphic imagery, not enacted, just mentioned)

You don't think Eddie's mad at you, which is good. He hadn't said anything he couldn't take back, things you'd worried he might; I'm her dad, (with an unspoken not you) is the most passionate thing he'd said. It hurt some, but it's irrefutable. He's her father, her primary caregiver, and he makes decisions when it comes down to it. 

He didn't say and you're not her mom, but it had felt implied. Just a bit. 

Loving her like your own, it's natural to want the best for her. Natural to have opinions on how she's taken care of and the things that she should do. Things got heated too quickly, that's all. Or, that's what you're hoping happened. 

Stacy K's mom said hey, would it be alright for Stacy to invite Roan to a slumber party? She wants one for her birthday, and she wants Roan there most of all. 

And you'd been surprised at Eddie's immediate agreement. Sure, Roan would love to come.

He picked Roan up and you parted ways with Stacy K and her mom, and you were quiet, unlike yourself, stomach churning because you knew you'd have to speak up, which you hardly ever do. Hey, Eddie?

He noticed your strange expression. What?

Is that a good idea? … Stacy's slumber party? 

Why wouldn't it be? 

It devolved from there. You tripped over your words, trying your hardest not to start a fight with Roan in the car, and Eddie took it the wrong way —or maybe he didn't, maybe he took it the right way, and you'd made a mistake. Your concerns had come across as doubtful of his ability to look after Roan. It makes sense that he took offence. 

You shouldn't, but you worry for a second that this will be the end, that Eddie can't abide by what you've said, and he's going to pack up and leave. You know he won't do anything of the sort, he's loyal and caring to a fault. He wouldn't hurt you so badly over one fight. He's making you nervous is all, sitting next to you quietly. It's not the cold shoulder, that’s never been his style. It's just… quiet. 

"Do you want something, sweet thing?" he asks as he gets up from the couch. "I'm gonna make Roan ants on a log." 

"It's been a really long time since you called me sweet thing," you say, sending him a tentative smile.

"You're sweet, you're my thing…" He licks his lips. "Not my best." 

You uncross your legs, reaching out for him before he can leave to the kitchen. "Listen, I'm– I'm sorry that I made you feel like you're doing something wrong. Sorry I overstepped." 

Eddie sits back down slowly. He swallows. "I'm sorry I shut you down. I guess I was offended." Eddie shuffles a little closer to you. "I mean, I was offended. But," —he speaks as though he's piecing his sentence together with the utmost of care— "you're Roan's mom." And he takes your hand. "You have been for a long time. I'm sorry I made it sound like you overstepped. You can't overstep. How can I be mad at you for one aspect of being a parent, when I'm happy for you to do the others? But I need you to understand that I've been doing all of the big stuff by myself the whole time, until we met I was doing everything by myself, and it annoyed me that you might think I didn't know best… 'n' that's not fair on you, 'cos I don't always know best." 

You aren't expecting it. His explanation or his easy apology. 

You look down at his hand over yours and breathe a sigh of relief. 

"I think…" You pause. When you speak, it's stilted. "Okay. I think it's a bad idea for her to go sleep over at Stacy's house when she doesn't have the words to tell us if something happens." 

Eddie's lips part. 

"That's what I wanted to say, before, not just that she's so young. And I actually do think you know best, Eds. You're a good dad. A fucking good dad."

You can see him thinking about what you've suggested. He rubs your knuckles. 

"She is a little young," he concedes. "She might not even want to stay the night when she realises what that means. But we could teach her if she does, she knows that people aren't allowed to touch her without her say so." 

"I know," you say. You're about to say more when Roan herself steps into the living room, walking at an unbothered pace. Her hair is dishevelled but besides that she's in clean jammies and clearly quite content.

"Hello," she says, a piece of paper in her hands. "I thought we were having ants on logs?" 

"Yeah, babe, I'm gonna make them right now. What have you been drawing?" 

She shows you the drawing. It's the three of you as most of her drawings are, with antennas and carapace bodies. It's gnarly. Eddie loves it the second he sees it, and he insists on putting it onto your already stacked fridge. 

She basks in the feeling of being loved and revered, and then basks again when Eddie gives her a plate full of ants on a log, chewing with a massive grin. 

"I really meant what I said," he murmurs to you, you and him hip hip by the kitchen sink. 

"Which part, handsome?" you ask. 

"She calls you mom. You’re her mom. You don't have to be sorry for having something to say to me.

You look him up and down without malice. He looks incredibly earnest, a little sheepish. His cheek is soft when you lift your hand to it, and he's eager to lean into your palm. "It wasn't about that," you say softly, hushed so Roan doesn't hear. "I promise it wasn't." 

"I know. I just hate that it's what I made you think." 

"So we're okay?" 

"We were always going to be okay, what did you think?" he asks, hand on your hip and pulling you stomach to stomach and chest to chest.

"Just worried."

He looks over your shoulder at Roan. You turn with him. She's kissing peanut butter off of the tips of her fingers with a delighted smile and air about her. 

"Talk about it more tonight?" he asks. 

His promises are always good. You talk about Roan's potential slumber party in bed that night after she's been tucked in, and you both say more sorries for your misunderstandings. It's weird to argue with him, but you're thankful it was about something that mattered, even if that something is scary to think of. 

"Thanks for thinking I'm a good dad," he says, cheek turned into the pillow, the tip of his index finger tracing lightly over your face in no one direction. 

"That's not something you have to say thanks for." You're in much better spirits now, speaking with confidence. 

"You're the one person who would know," he says. 

"That's not true. People only have to talk to Roan to know how good you are." 

He laughs a huff that kisses your skin like a warm breeze. "Did you really think we wouldn't be okay?" 

You laugh nervously. "I mean, no. It went through my head, but I didn't actually think it was the end, babe. I'm not that stupid." 

"You're not any amount of stupid, stupid." 

You laugh in his face. He puts his hand over your mouth with wide eyes but it's much too late. You stare at each other, mirrors of a fond defeat as footsteps sound down the hall. 

"What is so funny?" Roan asks, half-guilty 'cos she knows she should be in bed and half plain curious as she cracks open the bedroom door. 

Eddie sighs. It's not an unhappy sound. "Come and lie down with us and I'll tell you." 

She grins and rushes in. 

—

more eddie, roan and reader