shinzou67

[soupcrouton]

Aueghhh bad headache last night holy fuck

[sanarsi]

Favourite Lamb

post-Jackson!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Joel finally has what he wanted – a quiet life, a farm, and you. After a hard day at work, you're eager to take care of your man. Warnings: +18, MDNI, porn with a little bit of plot, old man!Joel, soft/rough throat fucking, soft!dom!Joel, blowjob, post-Jackson!Joel, age gap (not specified) Wordcount: 2k An: We love taking care of our man so it's nothing more than giving him pleasure. Music I worked with: Sweet - Cigarette After Sex

Masterlist

A quiet noise woke you from your sleep. You looked around the dark room, noticing that the other side of the bed was still empty. You frowned, realizing that Joel still hadn't joined you even though it was late and he should’ve been home by now. 

Another noise caught your attention, so you slowly stood up and quietly opened the door. The dim light reached the hallway from the living room where a quiet curse had come from. You recognized the voice, so you headed towards. 

A loud sigh echoed off the walls as you peeked out from behind the wall. 

“Joel?”  Your soft voice caught the attention of the man sitting on the couch. 

He looked up in shock to see you up at this hour. “Shit,” he cursed, realizing it was probably his fault. “I didn’t mean to wake you up, baby, sorry.” 

You smiled softly as you walked deeper into the room. He didn’t take his eyes off you as he placed the glass of whiskey on the table and held out his hand so you can walked over and let him pull you onto his lap. 

“Where were you?” you asked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and snuggling into his chest.

"Detector at the eastern border has stopped working," he explained, sighing quietly with tiredness and wrapping arm around your waist, hugging you tighter. “I know it's late but I just wanted to get this over with,” he added before you could point it out. He hated when he gave you reasons to worry and you hated it too. 

Now, that you lived far away from everything and everyone, you worried about him more than ever. For the first time in years, you allowed yourself to look away from each other as you tended to your little farm. Sometimes it scared you that you didn't see him for more than ten minutes. It was hard to get used to this kind of life after having eyes in the back of your head every day.

“And you fix it?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

At first, silence answered you, and then a quiet snort. “No.” 

You laughed quietly and rested your forehead against his temple, allowing yourself a moment of closeness you had been missing all day. 

“We’ll take care of it tomorrow,” you suggested, and Joel knew very well that there was no point in arguing with you about it. "And now I will take care of you," you added, nuzzling his cheek. You felt his muscles relax beneath you before he smiled in amusement. 

"Yeah? You want to take care of me?" He glanced at you and grabbed your chin between his fingers to pull you in for a soft kiss. You purred contentedly and without hesitation, you pressed yourself harder to him, deepening the kiss. Your tongues lazily played with each other as you slowly adjusted your position until you were straddling him. 

“Mhm,” you murmured against his lips. “How does that sound?” 

Joel looked at your delicate features and innocent smile and his heart immediately skipped a beat. 

“Perfect, baby,” he whispered as his hands began to smooth over your bare thighs. 

The rough touch of his warm hands sent shivers through your body, encouraging you to grind your hips against his. His quiet sigh echoed against your lips before you leaned in for a kiss again. The taste of whiskey on his tongue brought you a familiar feeling of safety, and the grip of his hands on your ass ignited your core. 

Cock in his pants was getting harder with every passing minute as you pressed your warmth against his. In moments like these, he was reminded of how much he hated being away from you for so long. 

You moaned as he dug his fingers deeper into your flesh. The lazy kisses grew deeper with each passing second making the material of your panties wet. 

“I missed you, baby,” he whispered against your lips before letting his hands disappear under your tank top. 

You sighed as you felt his large hands on your breasts. He began to tease your nipples with his thumbs, drawing a soft moan from you. He loved the sounds you made just for him. 

His sweet little girl…

"She missed me too?" he asked, starting to plant kisses on your neck. His thick stubble teased your delicate skin, making you shiver as another wave of arousal soaked your underwear. 

“Always,” you gasped under his touch. 

You let him take off your top, which landed on the other end of the couch. His attention immediately focused on your tits, he began massaging one and with a quiet growl began kissing, sucking, and nibbling on the other. 

You could feel his movements becoming more and more needy, and even though you wanted to give in, you had other plans for him. 

“I was supposed to take care of you,” you reminded him, running your nails over his scalp. 

Joel pulled away from your nipple with a smack, looking at you with a drunken gaze. He was breathing heavily and it was possible that if he wasn't as tired as he was at that moment, he would have started arguing with you about it. But today was your lucky day because he gave in without resistance, leaning comfortably against the back of the couch. 

"Right," he nodded. "Go ahead." 

You laughed under your breath and leaned down, placing a sweet kiss on his lips before you started moving lower and lower, to his neck and the exposed part of his chest. Your soft lips made him unable to resist the bliss that began to take over his senses. He closed his eyes, relaxing under your touch as you started to unbutton his shirt, kissing every exposed part of his chest. 

The lower you were, the more you had to retreat until you finally ended up kneeling between his legs. He couldn't deny himself this sight, so he began to watch as your fingers easily managed to fasten his jeans. Without a word, he lifted his hips so you could slide the material down his thighs. His cock was already standing stiff, showing its shape under his boxers. 

You unconsciously licked your lips as saliva began to flow into your mouth. It had been a while since you had the chance to look at him from this perspective. Joel would rather make love to you than see you kneeling in front of him. Maybe he was really getting old and would rather see you cry with his cock inside you than you choke on it. 

“Not too deep,” he reminded as you began to slide his underwear off. 

You looked at him with a sweet smile and rolled your eyes at his protectiveness. “I told you, I don’t mind.” 

“I know, baby,” he sighed and clenched his jaw tighter as you cupped his base. “But not too deep,” he repeated gently, with concern. 

You nodded quietly before your tongue met his tip. A familiar taste took over your senses as you slowly began to wet his head. Joel moaned softly as he felt your tongue gently caress him, up and down and around, until you sucked on him, letting a line of saliva run down his length, stopping at your fingers. He hissed at the sudden surge of pleasure, watching your lips wrap around his thickness. You didn't even give him a moment to breathe before swallowing him halfway. 

"Oh fuck," he gasped and twitched as his balls tightened painfully. 

You began to work on his cock, taking one half into your mouth with wet sounds and pumping the other with your hand. A shuddering breath left his lungs as he realized why he didn't like it when you gave him a blowjob. 

One answer – he always came too quickly. 

Then he heard the first choking sound and his cock throbbed dangerously. "Easy, baby, easy," he tried to calm you down, slow you down. But despite his words, you did it again. 

You knew the effect you had on him, the way you choked on him, he was experiencing fucking nirvana. He didn't want to admit it, but you had already witnessed him come in mere minutes. And now you were going to do that again. 

He couldn't control his moans anymore as you swallowed him deeper and deeper over and over again. His hips were thrusting towards you as if he couldn't control his own body. His mind was saying something different than his balls, that were dripping with your saliva. He wanted more but at the same time he didn't.

You felt his cock harden, heralding the approaching fulfillment, so you only sped up your head movements. Loud gasps mixed with growls, and while he fought the pleasure, you sucked your cheeks in contentment, licking the sensitive flesh at the tip.

“Baby…” he gasped in warning. 

You moaned with your mouth full and his cock twitched deep in your throat. The next sound of you choking was like a red rag to a bull for him, he couldn’t help himself as he placed his hand on the back of your head. You didn’t protest as he began to hold you in place, your nose pressed against his mound, and began to thrust his hips upward. You relaxed, letting him go as deep as he could and the sounds leaving his throat were enough payment for the tears in your eyes.

“Yes, yes,” he hissed, “you’re such a good girl.” His cock slowly took your breath away and you instinctively tried to pull back but he wouldn’t let you. “I know, baby, I know.” And he kept pushing until his breathing couldn't keep up with his movements and his cock began to throb.

You moaned tearfully, to which he responded with a blissful groan before hot cum shot straight down your throat. You swallowed everything that leak out of him as he came down from his peak, fucking your mouth slower and slower. Finally, he sighed in relief and let you pull away for air.

You almost choked on your own tears as you straightened up and began to wipe the drool from your chin. Joel looked at you with a drunken look, bliss written all over his face while you looked like a disaster, crying with red eyes and swollen lips. A feeling of regret appeared in his chest as he realized the state he had brought you to. 

"I'm sorry, baby," he said worriedly, leaning down to you. His warm hands found their way to your cheeks, wiping away the traces of tears. He hated that he was losing control with you, but as much as he tried to fight it, he just couldn't. He hated the sight of you in such a state, but he loved the feeling of your lips around his cock. "I didn't mean to—"

"I liked it," you interrupted him with a gentle smile. Joel blinked a few times, not being able to tell if he heard you correctly.

“You… like it?” he asked in disbelief. You barely had time to nod before he pulled you up onto his lap and hugged you to his chest. You licked your swollen lips and rubbed your eyes to get rid of the last traces of the glass effect. His strong arms wrapped you in warmth as you pressed yourself deeper into him. He watched your innocent smile with a tender gaze and allowed himself to press his cheek into your palm as you began to stroke his stubble. 

"Like I said, I don't mind." You leaned in to steal a gentle kiss. Joel, eyes closed, smiled at the tender gesture and nuzzled your nose. 

"I love you, you know that?" he whispered, running his fingers over your skin. 

"You have no other choice," you smiled wider, to which he snorted with laughter and pulled you in for a kiss.

Tags some babes @bbyanarchist @xdaddysprincessxx @yorksgirl @joelssluttyknee @amyispxnk @21stcenturywitchcraft

[sweetiecutie]

Hii! New to your blog and it’s so pretty and entertaining!I love your writing!

Do you think you can write for Konig with breast play and maybe some clinginess ? 🤍

Pairing: König x fem! Reader

Warnings: mdni, smut, kinda domestic and fluff(?), tit sucking, König is in love w/ you<3

Every single movie night with your boyfriend surely ended up the same way - with König’s head buried underneath your baggy t-shirt, hot mouth latched onto soft pudge of your tits while that restless tongue of his circled and licked and teased your pebbled nipple, one huge calloused hand was busy fondling your other breast, making sure that both of them were getting same amount of attention.

Oh how smooth he is as well! It always starts with König resting one of his hands on your tummy, rough fingertips tracing intricate shapes on your skin, making you all putty and pliant in his loving arms. And the next thing you know is that his mouth scatters wet kisses all over your sternum, movie long forgotten as his whole attention is now shifted to your boobs, caressing the absolute softness of your body, inhaling lungfuls of your scent. But he just loves you so much! Poor thing wants to be as close to you as it’s humanly possible - god, König would gladly crawl under your very skin and live there.

You heard him exhale noisily through his nose, hot air brushing against your torso, König’s unfairly long eyelashes fluttered, tickling bare skin of your chest. You tightened your embrace around male’s broad shoulders, cuddling him closer to yourself and you could swear that you heard König purr for a short moment.

- You getting sleepy? - you murmured quietly, placing a kiss on top of your boyfriend’s head, separated by thin layer of your t-shirt. He just hummed shortly in response, ever so slightly sinking his teeth into your soft tit - not painful at all, just giving you an affectionate little nibble. You rubbed your thighs slightly, sweet arousal pooling in your panties already, leaving a small dark patch on soft cotton fabric.

König’s hips rutted against the curve of your thigh, humping his semi-hard cock against you. Even despite being aroused, neither of you felt like actually having sex - maybe in the morning, after you both had your precious sleep; and if you happened to wake up earlier than König - you’d gladly bring him out of his dreams with your hot mouth wrapped around his throbbing shaft. But for now just lying like that, all cuddled up and cozy, safe in each other’s arms - it was enough.

So just like that, you two were soon fast asleep, tv buzzing on the background quietly, filling the space of your bedroom with soothing noise and subtle blueish light - your personal heaven.

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, give writers some love! Requests are open<3

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three

“Ow, not so hard man.” Eddie seems to be absolutely fascinated with Steve’s leg hair. Which, okay, Steve kind of understands, Eddie has neither legs nor leg hair, so he gets why it would be weird. He kind of wishes Eddie wouldn’t tug quite so hard though.

Eddie’s just demolished a big bowl of green things, and Steve’s sitting on the edge, legs dangling in the water where Eddie’s hovering, touching Steve’s skin with his slightly warmer than pool water temperature fingers. He’s scratching a little too, but it’s only a tiny bit, very gently, so Steve doesn’t mind. Eddie clearly doesn’t intend to harm him, and seems more fascinated with the thin white lines he’s leaving on Steve’s tanned skin.

Eddie gives a particularly vicious tug, Steve jerks, “Ow! Fuck. No, no more. Finished.” He sits up, pulling his legs clear of the water, waving Eddie away.

“Inied?”

“Yeah, finished. Ow. It hurts. You hurt me.”

Eddie tilts his head, swimming closer, “Steeee. Ow.”

Steve sighs, “Yes, ow. I’ll be back later.”

“I’m sure. Steve is the only one who feeds him, right?”

Steve and Robin both nod.

“Right, so, from his point of view, if he interpreted that as Robin trying to like, harm Steve, then his food supply would be jeopardized. He's just, resource guarding or whatever.”

“So...no play fighting within Eddie flopping distance?”

Dustin nods, “pretty much yeah, anything that could be interpreted as risk to Steve, I guess. Or, when Robin is here, she takes Eddie his food. Or anyone really, anytime anyone else is here. That way Eddie will start to see Steve isn’t his only resource.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s probably a good idea anyway,” Steve easily agrees, the now bare patches on his shins are still kind of stinging.

Robin returns with her bowl still full of veg, “he just won’t touch it. There’s still peas floating in the pool from last time.”

Steve sighs, “I really don’t know why he’s being like this.”

“Maybe he’s just pissed at me,” she shoves the bowl at Dustin, “you try.”

They all watch through the window as Dustin heads to the pool. They can tell from how he’s standing that Eddie’s at the end furthest away. Dustin kneels, tries offering things. It’s not long before he quits and comes back.

“How long did it take before he would eat? Maybe we just need to persevere?”

Robin disagrees, “once we figured what he would eat, it was pretty much straight away he was taking stuff from Steve.”

“Okay, so maybe it’s like, a trust thing, so if we stick this out long enough, eventually he will get hungry enough to give in, right?”

“We’re not doing that,” it just immediately strikes Steve as cruel, “he’s not put on enough weight yet for us to be fucking with his food supply.”

“Okay...okay yeah.”

Steve blinks awake. He’s not sure what woke him, but he’s almost certain he just heard something. He lies still straining to listen and yeah, he definitely heard something. Something or someone moving around downstairs. Steve quietly shifts, groping for the nail bat leaning against the wall as he slides out of bed, his heart feels like it's crawling up into his throat. He almost hopes it's a regular old burglary and not, like, monsters.

He creeps downstairs, luckily he was already sleeping in a tank top and shorts. He’s nearly to the bottom of the stairs when he hears it; a clunking noise and then, “Steee.”

He carefully puts the bat down immediately; figures Eddie got into the house somehow. Steve allows himself a moment to calm down, breathe deep and slow for a minute even as, in his head, he's calling Dustin a little shithead and blaming him for leaving the back door unlocked.

At the bottom of the stairs he can peer around the corner to see Eddie sitting in the hall. It’s light enough for Steve to make out that Eddie’s sitting quite tall, his tail curled into an ‘s’ shape underneath him. He has the phone from the hall side table held carefully next to his head, exactly like...well...like a regular person on the phone would, and while Steve is there, he says, “Steee,” uncertainly into the receiver.

For a moment, Steve is tempted to sneak up to the phone in his parents room and lift the receiver so he can answer Eddie, but quickly dismisses it; Eddie’s limited vocabulary makes it kind of pointless, anyway.

“Hey Eddie,” Steve steps off the bottom step.

“Stee!” Eddie turns to Steve, it's almost strange to see him without his sunglasses on now, and his eyes reflect what little light there is in a strange, silvery flash. He seems to remember then that he's holding something, forgotten for a second with the clear excitement of finding Steve, and he replaces the receiver on the cradle with surprising care; Steve wonders vaguely if he was just listening to the dial tone.

Eddie moves through the house, walking on his hands and using a unexpectedly efficient twist of his tail to push him along; he’s much more comfortable on land than Steve would have given him credit for. He stops and looks back, clearly waiting for Steve to follow him. Steve does. Dutifully following Eddie through the house, and it’s not until Steve’s at the door that he realizes it's not Dustin's fault at all – the spare key is in the lock. He doesn’t keep one out front – that’s just asking for trouble – but he keeps one out back. One that is only for absolute emergencies only, and it’s very specifically under the third plant pot along. Eddie must have seen Robin or one of the kids let themselves in and then just...worked it out for himself.

Well, huh, Steve thinks as he follows Eddie out into the yard and across the grass, past the pool and along to the tree line.

Steve wonders vaguely if Eddie actually does this often, getting out of the pool and exploring at night; he doesn’t seem to struggle, and he clearly knows where he’s going, passing through the tree line at the bottom of the yard and then a little further in.

Eddie comes to a stop, and when Steve gets there he sees what Eddie is looking at. It’s a bird. A pigeon probably, like a wood pigeon or something, if Steve’s very limited knowledge of birds is to be believed. It’s lying on the grass, clearly dead.

Steve crouches and watches as Eddie, very gently strokes the fluffy breast feathers of the bird, “Ow. Inied.”

Steve sighs he guesses finished is one way to put it, “yeah, yeah buddy. Uhm. Dead,” Steve pulls Eddie’s hand away, “dead. Don’t touch it. It’s dead.”

“Dead,” Eddie cocks his head.

“Yeah,” Steve yawns, getting sleepy again now the adrenaline’s died down and there’s clearly no danger, “come on, back to bed. Or, you know, the pool.”

Eddie’s reluctant to move at first, but then does when Steve gestures, sliding soundlessly back into the water.

“See you tomorrow buddy.”

“Budidy. Edidie.”

“Yeah, near enough.”

“Do you think he killed the bird?”

“Nah, there wasn’t any obvious like, injury or anything. And you should have seen how gentle he was with it Robs...it was like he felt bad, you know.”

She hums in agreement, “he must have seen someone at the lab use a phone, do you think?”

Steve figured the same, once he’d finished his night’s sleep and actually pondered on it. “Pretty sure he doesn’t know how to actually use it, he was just copying. But the fact that he worked out they were using it to talk to other people, that’s pretty smart, right?”

“Maybe we can teach him to use it?” Robin eats more waffle with her fingers, smearing the broken up bits through the cream. They’re sitting out on the pool chairs for breakfast.

“Dunno, numbers and stuff. A walkie though? I think he might be able to-”

“Steee! Steeee!” Eddie calls him from the water, arms resting on the sides. He’s smiling, looking happy, shades firmly in place today.

“What buddy?”

Eddie points confidently at the sky, “dead!”

Steve looks up; birds. There’s birds flying over.

“Oh no- birds. Eddie those are birds.”

He looks so confused, but Steve suddenly has an idea, “where you going dingus?”

“Be right back a second,” Steve heads into the lounge and runs his fingers along the lowest shelf of books, easily finding the thick children's encyclopedia he got for his birthday one year when he was little. He’s never even opened it, thought it was a shit present, but it’ll do for this.

He opens it on his way back to the pool, finding a page with a big colorful picture of loads of birds on it, sitting by the side of the pool where Eddie can see, “bird.”

“Buurd,” Eddie drags the word out, definitely making it more than a ‘u’ than an ‘i’ sound, but it’s definitely near enough.

“Yeah that’s right,” Steve lays the book out on the edge of the pool, “don’t get it too wet.”

Eddie tilts his head, “et.”

Steve slaps the water, “wet. Uhm.” Tapping the book, Steve says, “finished.”

Eddie looks at his hands, frowning.

“Right, wait,” Steve goes and grabs a towel, left forgotten on a pool chair, and brings it to the edge, “here,” Eddie’s close enough for Steve to take his hands easily, “wet,” after a moment of ruffling Eddie’s hands with the towel, Steve tells him, “dry.” Then he taps the book, “dry. Wet finished.”

He waits to see what Eddie will do, but he holds his hands carefully out of the water before he lifts himself to touch the book.

Steve turns to a page at random, showing Eddie a page with all sorts of big cats on it, lions and tigers and stuff like that, “go on, you do it.”

Steve gestures at Eddie, and, cautiously as he lets his elbows take his weight, Eddie carefully turns the page.

Part five

[0-n-1-x]

Hello! I was wondering if I could request a Damian x reader? But u can totally ignore this if u want🧡

Damian and reader are best friends, they go to the same school, and she (or they) is very clingy. And one day she gets a really bad headache during school and sort of begins rubbing and resting her head against his shoulder for comfort. She sort of half expects him to push or ask her to get off but he surprisingly doesn't. He's like super worried for her bc she can hardly pay attention and is really sluggish idk

Have a nice day! 🧡

link to my masterlist <33

You and Damian had been best friends for as long as you could remember, ever since that fateful day he transferred into your school. Despite his rough edges and serious demeanor, you’d always found a way to break through his stoic exterior, much to the confusion of everyone around you. It wasn’t uncommon to see you clinging to Damian’s arm between classes, chatting away while he listened with a slight smile or an exasperated sigh.

Today, though, something felt off.

Your head had been pounding since the morning, and by the time lunch rolled around, it was almost unbearable. You barely managed to make it to the cafeteria, your usually energetic self reduced to sluggish movements and a throbbing headache that seemed to grow worse with every step.

“Are you okay?” Damian asked, his voice tinged with concern as he noticed your unusually slow pace.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, trying to wave off his worry. But even you could tell that your attempt at reassurance was half-hearted at best.

Damian’s eyes narrowed, clearly not convinced. He walked beside you, watching as you winced at the bright lights and the noise of the bustling cafeteria. When you finally sat down, you immediately rested your head against the cool surface of the table, hoping it would provide some relief.

“Y/N,” Damian’s voice was soft but insistent. “You don’t look fine.”

You lifted your head slightly to look at him, your vision blurring for a moment. “It’s just a headache. I’ll be okay.”

But as the lunch period went on, it became clear that you weren’t okay. The headache only worsened, and soon you found yourself leaning against Damian for support. You rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes in an attempt to block out the overwhelming stimuli around you.

Damian stiffened at the sudden contact, his body going rigid as you pressed against him. You half expected him to gently push you away, maybe make a sarcastic comment about you being overly clingy as usual. But to your surprise, he didn’t.

Instead, Damian wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer as he turned his attention fully to you. “You should go to the nurse,” he whispered, his voice laced with worry.

You shook your head weakly, not wanting to move from your spot. “Just let me stay like this for a bit,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Damian’s expression softened, and he nodded, letting you rest against him without protest. His usual cool demeanor seemed to melt away as he watched you, his eyes filled with concern.

As the minutes passed, Damian gently rubbed your arm, a small, comforting gesture that helped ease some of the tension in your body. He kept a watchful eye on you, making sure you were as comfortable as possible despite the situation.

“Y/N,” he said quietly after a while, “If you’re not feeling better soon, I’m taking you to the nurse.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue, simply nodding in agreement. You were grateful for his presence, the steady warmth of his body against yours providing a sense of comfort amidst the pain.

For the rest of the lunch period, Damian stayed by your side, his protective nature shining through as he made sure you had everything you needed. When the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, he helped you gather your things and walked with you to your next class.

“You should go home and rest,” Damian insisted as you reached the classroom. “I’ll tell the teacher you’re not feeling well.”

You looked up at him, touched by his concern. “Thank you, Damian,” you murmured, managing a small smile despite the pain.

He gave you a rare, genuine smile in return, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “You don’t need to thank me. I just want you to feel better.”

And with that, Damian led you to the nurse’s office, his hand never leaving yours as he made sure you were taken care of. Despite his usual aloofness, it was clear that when it came to you, Damian was willing to drop his guard and show just how much he cared.

[louloulemons-posts]

Cuddle Bug

Eddie Munson X reader

Summary : Eddie isn’t very well and the only person who can make him feel better is reader.

Word Count : 1.6k

Warnings : not proofread, fluff, poorly eddie, eddie takes medication, touch starved eddie, eddie just loves reader so much.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

You and Eddie had been dating for 3 months now and it had been great, you’d been friends for a while and then it somehow became more. It was so natural, easy, the pair of you had never felt this way.

However, Eddie wasn’t one to be overly affection, well physically that is. The boy was touch starved, and although Wayne loved his nephew, he was brought up seeing very little affection himself. So when Eddie ended up with him, he didn’t really know how to parent.

It was pats on the shoulder, ruffles of hair, awkward, but loving smiles. That showed in Eddie, when you first held his hand and kissed his cheek he freaked, he didn’t know if it was normal or not.

He ended up speaking to Nancy Wheeler about it, Steve would make fun, Robin didn’t date, Wheeler was different. She had told Eddie it was okay, telling him that Mike had trouble being physically affectionate due to seeing their fathers blatant lack of interest towards their mother and his own children.

It gave Eddie some comfort, making him relax when you showed gentle touches, when he also showed you. He loved touching you, even if it was the brushing of fingers as you walked side by side, Eddie loved it.

However, he didn’t expect to wake up one day and be craving your touch to the point he could cry. He had been quiet all morning, Wayne asking if he was alright, to which the boy had only grunted.

He was even more miserable going to school, knowing you wouldn’t be there until lunch, having to go for an appointment. He actually considered skipping, but Wayne shoved him out the door.

Eddie felt awful, sluggish, grouchy, he was just in an awful mood. “What’s that face?” Gareth asked, as the boy walked over, dropping his cigarette butt on the floor.

“What?”

“You look like your worlds ending.”

“I’m fine,” he said, snapping slightly. Sighing he spoke again, “Sorry, let’s just go to class.”

“Sure,” the younger boy nodded, worrying for his friend.

Eddie was uncharacteristically quiet in class, not making any jokes, not tapping on the desk, he was resting his head on his arms. The lights were too bright, noise was amplified, his body ached, he needed you.

“You okay?” Gareth asked quietly.

“Hm?” The curly haired boy friend his face to his friend. “Are you okay? You don’t look well.”

“Thanks for the confidence boost,” he joked, head banging when he chuckled, making him wince.

“Maybe you should see the nurse.”

“I’m good man, don’t worry.” He knew that his friend thought he was lying, and he wasn’t wrong to think that. He felt horrible.

“Mr Munson, last time I checked my class was English, not nap time, focus please,” the teacher scolded. Eddie lifted his head, holding it in his hand, worried he couldn’t keep it up without.

This was gonna be a long day.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

It was indeed the longest day of Eddie Munson life, he had to drag himself to lunch. Barely able to sit in the cafeteria with all of the chatter, all of the Hellfire boys were concerned for their DM.

Sat massaging his temples he sighed, what was wrong with him? “Hey Eddie,” Dustin spoke. “What?” he said, voice quiet.

“Look,” the young boy spoke, motioning to the door.

There you were, making your way through the crowd of people, he could have burst in to tears then and there. Pushing up carefully he made his way over to you.

Engulfed by a hug, your eyes went wide, “Eddie?” you spoke softly, arms coming to wrap around him. “Missed you,” he said, nuzzling into your neck.

You were taken aback, Eddie wasn’t this affectionate in private, let alone public. “Are you alright?” you asked.

“Mm, just missed you. How was the appointment?” he pulled away, hands on your waist.

“It was fine,” you said simply, hand coming to touch his face, “You’re burning up.”

“I’m fine.”

“Baby you’re sick.”

“No-“

“Eddie, don’t argue with me. We’re going home.”

“What? No, you only just got here, you’re gonna make me be all alone?” he whined.

“I said we, come on,” linking your fingers you went to the Hellfire lunch table, saying hi to the boys and picking up Eddies stuff.

“He’s not well, so I’m taking him home,” you explained. “I’m fine!” Shooting him a glare the boy quietened. “You’ve been ill all day man,” Gareth said.

“Why didn’t you go home?” you asked.

“I-I,” the boy stuttered, unable to give an answer, he knew what it was, but didn’t want to say in front of the guys.

“Come on let’s go.” You carried both yours and Eddies things, holding his hand also and led him out of the school. “Keys please,” you said.

“What?” he asked.

“You’re not driving like this, I’ll drive.”

“What about your car?”

“Dad dropped me off.” Eddie sighed, but complied, taking his keys out of his pocked and dropping them into your hand.

He climbed in the van slowly, instantly resting his head against the window. “What’s not feeling good?” you asked.

“Everything.”

“I think you’ve got the flu.”

“I don’t get sick.”

“Baby,” you sighed, as you put the keys in.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not, and that’s okay. It’s okay to be sick, I’m gonna take care of you. Now do you want to go to mine or to the trailer?”

“Can we go home?”

“Sure baby,” you said, brushing his curls gently before beginning the drive. The boys head rested against the cool window for the entirety of the drive, eyes closed.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Eddie,” you whispered, “Baby we’re home.” Eyes fluttering open, you were back at the trailer, the boy winced once more at the light. “Come on, let’s get you in.”

Eddie moved slowly, his whole body sore, heavy. He felt like he would fall if he didn’t sit down soon. Your arm wrapped around his middle, helping him, you saw him sway on his feet.

Pushing open the door, you spoke to Eddie softly, “You go get into something comfy, I’m going to talk to Wayne.” He whined, trying to keep you close to him. “It’s okay baby, I’ll be there in a minute.”

He huffed, slowly making his way to his room, hands on the wall the whole way to support him. “Eddie, what did I tell you about skipping- oh hello Honey,” Wayne Munson spoke, slightly confused with your presence.

“Is everything alright?” he questioned.

“Eddie has a fever so I brought him home, I was wondering if you’d mind me staying to look after him?”

“Our home is yours, you’re always welcome. I’ll find you some medication for him.”

Once you explained his headache, sensitivity to light and sluggishness, Wayne handed you some tablets and a glass of water. “This should help, keep his room dark too, and he’ll need to sweat out a fever.”

“Of course, thank you.”

“Thank you for looking after my boy,” he said, squeezing your shoulder, before nodding and walking back to the couch to continue what he was doing before.

Pushing open Eddies door with your hip, you frowned at the sight before you. Clothes were dropped on the floor, his pyjama draw open. Eddie himself was lay under his quilt, the top his his curls the only indication that it was him.

“Baby, I’ve got some things to make you feel better,” you spoke softly, not wanting to hurt his head. He groaned as he moved from under the blanket, the sunlight attacking his skin.

“Hang on, let me get the curtains,” you said, placing the pills and water next to him, quickly pulling them closed. They weren’t the best, but they did make the room a bearable light for the boy.

“Thank you,” he mumbled as you got on the bed next to him, he took the medication with ease, sipping the water. “Why did you go to school if you felt bad?” you asked, playing with his hair.

“Wanted to see you,” he said, voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. “Oh Eds,” you kissed his cheek. “Will you stay?”

“Of course I will, let me change.”

“Can we … um, can we,” he huffed, frustrated that he couldn’t get his words out. Sliding out of your jeans and top, you picked up Eddies hellfire shirt, allowing it to cover your skin.

You climbed under the covers next to him, “What baby?”

“Can we, if you want, could we cuddle?” Your heart melted at that, even though he was feeling horrible he still nervously twiddled his thumbs.

“Of course we can,” you smiled at him, shuffling down. He pulled you gently, so you could lay your head on his chest, “Your so warm,” he hummed.

Kissing his chest softly, you smiled up at him, snuggling into his hold. “I’m sorry we don’t do this much I just … it’s hard, but I really like being like this with you.”

“Eds-“

“I just don’t ever want you to think that I’m just with you for sex or just for the sake of having a partner. I love being close with you.”

“I love it too,” pressing another gentle kiss to skin, this time his chin. “You’re gonna get sick,” he said.

“That’s okay, you can look after me then.”

“That I can do, be ready for a solid week of cuddles.”

“Whatever will I do?” you laughed. The boy hummed, kissing your forehead. “I’m sorry you’re not very well.”

“It was worse when you weren’t there, I feel so much better now.”

“Really?”

“Mhm, I love being with you. I think I love you.”

“I think I love you too.”

In sync your faces broke into smiles, before Eddie winced, his head still sore. “Rest baby,” you said softly, “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading!

A/N : I kind of want to write another instalment of Margot, let me know if you’d be interested 🫶🏻

Please leave any requests 🤍

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ౨౿  ׅ ۟   ֪ 𝓑ump 𝓘n 𝓣he 𝓝ight ۪ ׂ   𓈒 ୭

ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ miguel o’hara 𝓍 civilian!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. you live in a world of comic book characters, just pure fiction. however, one night you stumble upon a man dressed in a strange costume who looks exactly like those comic book characters inside your house.

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. fluff, little angst, goofiness, tension, mild suggestiveness (mdni), swearing, pet names, reader’s universe doesn’t have a spiderman, hispanic/latina!reader

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓛𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝓝𝐎𝐓𝐄. randomly thought of this, enjoy! btw this is a repost because i originally posted this at the worst time ever. if you read this before, pretend it’s your first time again lmao.

you heard a light thud.

shutting off the water, you leave the unfinished soap covered dishes in the sink as you step away. drying your hands with a towel before tossing it in the sink as well. anxiety flows through your veins.

what the hell was that?

you live alone, besides your white terrier luna, in this house your parents left behind for you. you rarely invite people over due to work. the only time you do is for holidays, birthdays, or small gatherings with friends. other than that, you’re alone most of the time so hearing noises sorta freak you out.

maybe something dropped like one of your books from the bookshelf in your room. it’s an reoccurring thing. but it sounded so light for a book to drop. what else could possibly fell? was it even an object?

panic settles in your bones. glancing to your left where the living room is, you spot luna peacefully sleeping in her soft, periwinkle dog bed. of course she didn’t hear it, she’s far in doggie dreamland.

very slowly and quietly, you pull a knife out of the drawer and make your way towards the stairs. the noise came from up there. heart pumping out of your chest. blood rushing through your veins. frantic breathing due to the anxiety developing in you.

is it an intruder? a robber?

fuck. this is the last thing you wanted.

you just wanted to wash the dishes in peace before going to bed. why must this happen to you?

very slowly and steadily, you make your make upstairs. gripping onto the knife tightly, palm sweaty. your room is your first destination. as you make it up top, you can hear low grumbles from there.

fuck, there is someone here.

tightening your grip on the knife, you carefully walk towards your room. hiding behind the wall, right beside the doorframe, you turn a little to catch a sneak peek of the intruder. your eyes widen in shock.

a figure clad in a suit of vibrant red and dark blue. the fuck is that? a cosplay or something? you suddenly realize how tall the figure is. way too tall since your white dresser is literally half his size, right below his waistline. this bastard is muscular as fuck. broad back and his suit outlines each back muscle perfectly as if it’s sculpted. his shoulders also broad and thick. insane fucking biceps.

this dude is fucking ripped. he can murder you with his bare hands. probably snap you in half.

there is no way you can take this fucker down.

“este chingaletta…”

oh, he speaks spanish too? pinche cabrón.

the tall figure seems to be fiddling with something on his wrist. perhaps a watch or some sort.

inhaling a deep breath, you gain the courage to confront this intruder motherfucker. whether he’s a giant or not, he needs to get out of your house.

“get the fuck out of my house.”

the man swiftly turns around to see you standing at the door. the knife in your hand pointing at him. you witness the eyes of his odd-looking mask widening.

“hey… i’m not here to hurt you.” his voice is low and a bit musky. he slowly raises his hands in the air, a sign of surrender. “just put the knife down.”

“not a fucking chance.” you snarl with gritted teeth. “get the fuck out of my house or this knife is going straight through your fucking heart.”

a sigh escapes his lips, covered by his mask. “ay mujer… por favor, i’m not gonna hurt you.” his tone a mixture of pleading and frustration.

your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “hardly believable since you’re in my fucking house.”

he takes one step forward. “please just—“

“don’t!” you yelled.

“i’m not gonna hurt you! i’m not the bad guy here! i just accidentally teleported into your house!” he matches your voice level.

now you’re confused. “teleported? what do you mean teleported?”

another sigh from him, running a run over his masked face. “look, it’s hard to explain but trust me, it wasn’t my intention to barge into your house.”

“barge?!” you say in disbelief. “you’re invading my home! you’re a fucking intruder!”

“i’m not an intruder!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up. “at least it wasn’t my intention.”

you scoff. “pinches mentiras.” you eye him up and down. “what’s up with costume? this isn’t comic-con.” you gesture at his suit with the knife.

the man stares at you in disbelief but obviously you can’t tell because of his mask. “are you serious? you don’t know who or what i am?”

now the anger is replaced with confusion.

“what the fuck do you mean?”

“you don’t…” he quickly looks at the watch on his wrist, or what it appears to look like a watch. with a few taps, tiny holographic images pop up from it.

whoa, what the fuck? what kind of watch is that?

“that figures, you don’t have a spiderman in this universe.” he taps away the tiny images from the watch and looks back at you.

your face drops in utter confusion. “spiderman? the marvel character?”

“what? no—“ he sighs frustratingly.

“i’ve seen lots of cosplays but yours is different. cool but different. which spiderman are you supposed to be?” you lower the knife down to your side.

he blinks at you. “that’s not important. and i’m not cosplaying or whatever the hell that is—“

“well, i definitely haven’t seen that version of him. kinda badass, not gonna lie. the costume is cool.”

spiderman groans, on verge of lashing out, rubbing the temples of his forehand with a hand. “for the last time, it’s not a costume.”

you quirk a brow. “right.”

miguel rolls his eyes, growing more frustrated and irritated. “i don’t have time for this.” he grumbles, fiddling with his watch again. “chingado…” the man groans out of frustration. his gizmo isn’t working.

“having issues?” you taunt.

“cállete.” he hissed, still fiddling with his gizmo.

you snort as you walk towards him. “what kind of watch is that?” you tilt your head, staring at it curiously. it’s definitely more advanced.

“not a watch, a gizmo and i made it.”

your eyes perk up. “you made it? ooo lemme see.”

as you go try to touch it, he pulls back. “don���t.”

“oh come on, stop being ridiculous.” you try touching it again but he keeps pulling back.

“don’t touch it.” he scowls.

“sheesh, protective much?”

miguel rolls his eyes and you can definitely tell this time. “don’t you understand the concept of not touching what’s not yours?”

“i’m trying to help you, tonto.”

he scoffs. “you can’t help. you don’t understand how this works, mamona.”

now you roll your eyes this time. “fine, whatever. have fun struggling with your stupid ass watch.” you walk away, leaving the spiderman guy in your room.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

not even 10 minutes, the spiderman guy heads downstairs and joins you in the kitchen. you continue washing the dishes you abandoned earlier. as you stack up the last dish, you head footsteps approaching. turning around while drying your hands with a towel, you see him standing on the opposite side of the kitchen island.

“couldn’t get it work, huh?” you taunt, smirking.

“cállete.” he scowls.

luna awakes from her slumber, stretching out in her little bed then hopping out of it before she starts barking at spiderman.

“¡ay!” he exclaims, startled by the barking. “can you tell your dog to stop barking?!”

“nope.” you shrug, making him groan. “she barks at people wearing masks so… if you want her to stop, you know what to do.”

he mutters something before deactivating his mask. it disintegrates, revealing his identity. immediately and like mentioned, luna stops barking.

holy shit. he’s handsome as fuck.

chocolate wavy hair. eyes with hues mahogany. the sharpest cheekbones you’ve ever seen on a person, let alone a man. very, very plump lips.

“oh shit, you’re hot.” you blurt out.

miguel stares at you with wide eyes. hints of reddish pink on his cheeks, feeling warm. heart skipping a beat. “uh… thanks…?” he averts your gaze, trying to conceal his bashful face.

“damn, you’re the most attractive spiderman cosplayer i’ve ever seen.”

a groan escapes his lips, pinching the bridge of his nose with a hand. “chingado contigo… i’m not a cosplayer, i’m actually spiderman.”

you snort. “right, right.”

“is the gizmo not enough proof for you?! or the fact my mask disintegrated?!”

you ponder for a moment. sure, the watch is heavily advanced. watching his mask disintegrate is definitely a phenomenon. holy shit - is this guy really spiderman? at least a version of him?

“okay, fair points.” you awkwardly clear your throat. “so… you’re actually spiderman?”

“yes.” he shoots you an unimpressed look, clearly fed up with your oblivious attitude.

“which one?”

“2099.”

you raise a brow. “spiderman 2099? as in the year 2099?” you fold your arms over your chest.

“as unbelievable it sounds, yes.” instinctively, his eyes immediately glance down at your chest for a moment. your cleveage sticks out more with your folded arms. the cups of your nightdress hugs it perfectly. fuck, why did he look? yeah he’s a man but miguel feels like a pervert. he hopes you don’t notice.

you did but you don’t care. you don’t sense creepy vibes from him. just a dude who happens to be spiderman from the future or some shit.

“so you’re from the future?”

“technically yes but from a different universe.” miguel watched your eyes pop out in surprise. he groans internally, knowing this was coming soon.

“a different universe? what the fuck is this ‘rick and morty’ shit?” you huff.

his brows furrowed in confusion. “wha— no, listen. yes, a different universe. there are an infinite amount of universes of spider people called the arachnohumanoid polymultiverse.”

you stare at him completely dumbfounded. “that is literally the most nerdiest shit i’ve ever heard.”

miguel frowns. “well, that’s what it’s called.”

“stupid name.”

his expression falls flat. “your opinion is irrelevant.”

“it’s a fact, stupid long ass name. change it when you get back to wherever the hell you’re from.” you turn away, opening the cabinet to grab something.

“you’re annoying.” he sounds irritated.

“i am but i’m truthful.” you grab a container of conchas you recently bought. you set it on the island then head over to the coffee maker near the fridge. “quieres algo? un concha, café?”

he observes you with a dumbfounded expression. “you’re offering coffee and sweets?”

“well, you’re practically stuck here until who knows how long so…” you pour coffee in your favorite mug. “do you want coffee or not?”

miguel remains silent for a moment. taken aback by your generosity. nobody has ever treated him with such kindness or even ask him what he wants. it’s true, it’s uncertain when he’ll return to his universe. he’ll have to remain here for the time being. for some reason, he doesn’t mind staying here, with you.

“uh… si, pro favor.” he said sheepishly.

you grab another mug and pour coffee inside. once both mugs are filled, you turn around and slide his mug across the island.

“gracias.” miguel grabs the mug and brings it up to his lips. a low hum of approval as he tastes the warm, delicious liquid. normally he prefers black coffee for work but this one is acceptable.

you two talk for a while over coffee and sweets. miguel explaining the multiverse. talking about the spider society and its origins. his universe and life. everything seems so fascinating yet bizarre. apparently spiderman, or a shit ton of versions of the comic book character, actually exist. that’s a total mindfuck. part of you believes this could be a dream, hence why you pinched yourself several throughout the conversation. but, it was real. he was real.

“after all this time, you never told me your name.”

he takes a sip of his coffee then carefully placed on the counter. “miguel o’hara.”

you respond with your name, taking a sip of your coffee and a bite of your pink concha.

as the night progresses, you and miguel talk for hours. learning more about each other. miguel still finds it strange how things change drastically. he accidentally transported to a universe that has no spiderman. accidentally transported into a random woman’s house and being accused as an intruder. now having coffee and sweets with the woman he just met, having a genuine conversation.

part of him is still concern about how or when he’ll return to his universe. if his gizmo will ever be fixed and work properly again. but considering the environment he’s in, warm and cozy, miguel isn’t in a rush. in fact, he enjoys your company. it’s been a while since he actually sat down and had a genuine conversation with someone. back in his universe, he doesn’t have anyone. but in this universe, he does.

and he likes that.

maybe being stuck here won’t be so bad.

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[runninriot]

Damn You, Capitalism!

inspired by and written for @sidekick-hero , hope that helps getting through the day 🖤 because work sucks (i know!) - but eddie sucks harder 😏

1.231 words | cw: contains smut, nsfw, mdni

also on ao3

Steve has been drowning in work lately, it's a nightmare.

Eddie tries his best to support him, to make things as little stressful for him at home as it can possibly be.

He keeps the guitar unplugged when he's working on new music, to keep the noise at a minimum.

Always makes sure there's some meal ready for Steve to grab and microwave when and if he remembers to eat.

He reminds himself to do the dishes as soon as he's done with them because he knows how much Steve hates when the sink is full of dirty plates and forks and mugs.

Eddie even finally figured out how to use their new washing machine - he's not stupid, just lazy, and- why does that damn thing need so many buttons?

So, yeah. He's trying, really, because it breaks his heart every night when Steve comes home from work, looking one moment away from collapsing. Always tired, always moody, just- miserable.

Eddie wishes he could do more. Wishes he could take some of Steve's stress away, help him relax. Ease his mind just for a while.

And- look, he knows what would probably, most definitely help, that's not the thing. The problem is, Steve can barely even stay up long enough to kiss Eddie goodnight as soon as they're in bed. So any attempts of trying to have some one-on-one quality time with his husband aren't really up for debate right now.

Right?

Right.

He'll just have to wait for this massive project to be over and done with.

---

As Eddie crawls into bed shortly after Steve, he finds him quietly snoring, already fast asleep with his face mushed uncomfortably against his pillow.

Even in his sleep, he looks exhausted and it makes Eddie mad how much that job is demanding of Steve.

He pictures himself in front of the corporate building that holds his husband's soul captive, angrily stomping up and down the pavement while waving a sign that reads Damn You, Capitalism! and the thought makes him laugh.

He realises too late that he's been making an awful lot of noise, instantly shuts himself up with a hand over his mouth when Steve stirs awake and looks at him through bleary eyes.

   "Is everything okay?"

Steve sounds knackered (he learned that word from his British co-worker) and Eddie hates himself for ripping him out of his well-deserved sleep.

   "I'm sorry, baby. Everything's good. I didn't mean to wake you up. Just go back to sleep, okay? I'll see you in the morning."

Eddie leans down to kiss his forehead before he turns off the light and lays down next to him, trying to be as still as he can to let Steve drift off peacefully again.

But the damage is already done. Even without looking he can sense that Steve has trouble falling back asleep and it’s confirmed by the heavy sigh Steve lets out.

   "Can you-" His voice flitters quietly through the room, "Can you suck my dick?”

    Oookay, what?

Eddie can’t help but snort at those words.

Steve must be dreaming. Maybe he did fall back asleep after all.

   “I’m being serious, Eds!” Steve sounds almost offended.

He then rolls to the side and even in the dark, Eddie can see his big eyes staring straight at him.

So, not sleeping, then.

   “Babe, are you sure? I’m just asking because- well, we haven’t done anything for weeks and I miss it. God, do I miss it. But you’ve been completely out of it not even 5 minutes ago and-“

What the hell is he even going on about?

His perfect, beautiful husband wants him to suck him off. Why the fuck is he still babbling instead of using his mouth to do exactly that?

   “I just think it’d help me sleep?”

Steve uses that honeysweet voice of his, the one he knows Eddie can never say no to, the one he always uses to get what he wants. And- like, what is Eddie if not a very devoted, very helpful, very loving husband that would quite literally do anything for his man?

---

Steve’s boxers are gone as quickly as the blanket before Eddie makes himself comfortable between his husband’s spread legs.

It’s almost embarrassing how much he’s already drooling just thinking about the perfect weight of Steve’s glorious cock on his tongue but- excuse him for not keeping his excitement in check when he’s literally been suffering from Steve-withdrawal for weeks now!

Still, he tries to take his time, not wanting it to be over too quickly. He can hear in Steve’s pleading moans that he won’t last long, can taste Steve’s desperation in each drop of precum that hits his tongue as he licks the tip.

It’s heaven.

It’s so good Eddie wants to cry.

    Fuck, he missed this. Missed the familiar stretch of his lips when he takes Steve in, the familiar sound of Steve’s husky voice, the scent of freshly showered skin, the feeling of sinking deeper and deeper on his lover’s cock as he swallows him down like he’s starving for it.

His hips can’t seem to keep still, wiggling and rubbing against the sheets where his own cock is searching for friction. But his focus is on Steve, he can take care of himself later. This is just for the beautiful man that is the light of his life – he deserves it. Deserves to be worshipped like the divine creature he is.

   “Ed- Eddie, oh God! Oh fuck!”

Steve’s words spur him on. He finds the perfect rhythm, uses one hand to pump Steve’s cock while his tongue curls around the tip. His other hand strokes the sensitive skin on his inner thigh, dragging his nails up and down, knowing too well that it drives Steve just a little insane.

   “Babe, I’m- I- fuck! Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop. I’m so close!”

Eddie wouldn’t dream of it.

Not when it makes him so happy to hear and taste and feel his husband slowly falling to pieces. When, with every staggering breath, Steve crawls a little closer to the edge.

Until finally, Eddie is rewarded with a mouthful of Steve’s love; a sweet gift, despite the bitter taste, he swallows with pride, not wasting a single drop of it, taking it all in.

Beneath him, Steve’s trembling through his orgasm, legs shaking and breath uneven. He stops Eddie with a hand in his hair, tugging just lightly to make him look up.

   “Com’ere, baby. Wanna kiss you.”

A little reluctantly, Eddie leaves the perfect place between Steve’s thighs and crawls on top of him to comply.

They kiss slow and soft, no hurry, just their lips finding each other in the dark with gentle pressure.

   “Love you so much, baby,” Eddie whispers against Steve’s lips as he feels his movements slow down.

And as he kisses his way from Steve’s mouth to his cheek, to the tip of his nose, his closed lids and his forehead, Steve’s breathing eases into a steady, calm rhythm.

He’s asleep again, hopefully dreaming of beautiful things as he sinks deeper into Eddie’s embrace, lets his husband's warmth envelope him where they’re lying side by side.

Steve deserves it.

Because tomorrow, he has to fight his way through the constricting clutches of capitalism again.

Man, capitalism really sucks.

But, Eddie laughs to himself, he can suck harder.

[inmyheaddd]

just feeling my way back to you - grayson hawthorne x reader

a/n: this was supposed to be a flashback in a grayson series i’m working on but idk if im ever gonna post it 💔 summary: having what was supposed to be a relaxing picnic by the river, took a very unexpected turn when it started raining. heavily. warnings: rain kiss rain kiss rain kiss!! nothing really tho wc: 1.6k masterlist

you and grayson sat by a creek-river hybrid, the sun painting a golden hue over everything as the water beneath you seemed to glitter. 

there wasn’t much noise, apart from the rustling of leaves, the sound of the water, and of course, you and grayson’s non stop quiet chatter and laughter.

the air sent a breeze down your spine, but it did nothing to bother you. you don’t think anything could ever ruin this moment with you and grayson, with your head on his shoulder as you brought your knees to your chest.

well, one thing nearly came close. 

you felt a drop of water on your nose, making you sit up fully as you let out a small gasp. 

“oh my god, is it raining?” you reached your hand to wipe the droplet off your nose, only for more to start dropping on your face, faster, too.

you didn’t see the way grayson’s face turned into a slight frown when you lifted your head off his shoulder, you were too preoccupied with looking at the clouds as more rain started falling down, almost in awe.

grayson then found himself smiling as he watched you look up to the sky and laugh, a sound he’d replay over and over on a record player in his mind. 

his gaze stayed on your face as you tilted your head back down and looked at him, a grin spreading across your face. 

“i have an idea,” you said in a sing-song voice. 

“no.” he deadpanned. 

“i didn’t even tell you!” 

grayson raised his eyebrows at you, a hint of laughter in his voice. “your ideas in situations like these are never good.” 

your jaw fell open in mock offense. “never good? well that’s just a lie.”

his lips threatened to turn up. you would’ve barely noticed if it was anyone else, but you noticed everything about grayson. 

“i apologize, never sensible.” he corrected himself.

it was already raining harder now, but you paid it no mind. looking into grayson’s eyes felt the same as looking up at the stormy skies. 

“and when was the last time you had fun doing something sensible?” you retorted, and now grayson’s barely there smile fully cracked. 

it made way for a chuckle as he looked away from you, a light shake of his head before he ran a hand through his hair. 

you knew you’d gotten him with that one, muttering a small, “exactly.” as you turned yourself around, looking through the bag you’d brought with you. 

after flicking through extra clothes, snacks, your phones, and a speaker, you found the item you were looking for. 

“hey, grayson, this is waterproof, right?” you called out to him as you pulled his camera out of its cover. 

obviously grayson hawthorne’s far-too-expensive camera was waterproof, who were you kidding?

he hummed lowly, more in confusion as to answering your question. 

leaning forward with your legs crossed, you you set up the camera against a tree stump beside you, pressing the record button as grayson watched you — still slightly befuddled.

“hey guys, it’s raining!” you spoke into the camera, adjusting it so you and grayson were in frame with the scene behind you.

“—i’m with grayson hawthorne right now, on a sunday, 6:32 pm, and it’s raining!” you reiterated yourself with a laugh, setting the frame for whatever version of yourself would be looking back at this video in the future. you with grayson, you’d silently hoped.

as you talked, grayson looked at you like you were so much more than you actually were, with so much love in his eyes. it stilled you for a moment as you saw it in the camera. 

your attention was no longer on the camera as you sat upright again, looking at grayson with an ever present smile on your face. 

“what?” you laughed quietly.

in all of his hawthorne manner, he answered your question with one of his own. “what are you doing?” he said, his voice low, almost drowned out with the patter of the rain and sounds around you. 

and in all of your “i love annoying grayson” manner, you didn’t answer his question. you simply grabbed the camera and stood up, and his gaze followed you the whole time.

you jogged towards the river, the rain soaking through your clothes as you went, and set the camera up again on a large rock. grayson’s eyes widened slightly as he watched you.

"what are you doing?" he projected his voice over the rain, punctuating each word as he grew concerned. 

you shot him a quick look over your shoulder, your smile growing even wider. "making real memories!” you exclaimed.

before he could protest, you made sure everything was in frame on the camera, then took a few steps back, your bare feet sliding a little on the wet grass.

"you’re not serious," grayson stated as he followed after you, but there was a tiny hint of humour in his tone now.

"oh, i’m so serious!" you shouted back, already running toward the water.

"sweetheart, wait—" grayson reached out as if to stop you, but it was too late.

you launched yourself off the bank and into the river with a squeal, the cold water hitting you like a shock to the system. it wasn’t that deep— coming up to just below your chest. 

grayson stood frozen for a second, shaking his head as he watched you pop up, gasping and laughing, water streaming down your face as you smoothed your hair back.

"come in!" you called, laughing breathlessly, lifting your arms to show him how much fun you were having. "you know you want to!" you added, giggling to no end.

he hesitated, eyes flicking to the camera that was still recording. "i have absolutely no desire to go in. i truly worry for your sanity sometimes.” 

"my sanity may be questionable, but at least i’m having fun!" you countered, the water swirling around your legs as the rain kept falling. "this is all on camera, gray. if you don’t come in, you’ll be known forever as the grumpy blonde who stood on the sidelines, while i had the time of my life." 

grayson davenport hawthorne would forever be known as a lot of things— and you knew you were going to keep this video as a keepsake for just you two. precious, untarnished with the effects from anyone else. just yours.

maybe not everyone would know the real him— which in fact wasn’t the grumpy blonde like you had joked — but you did. and you were endlessly thankful for that.

grayson let out a deep, exasperated sigh, running a hand through his wet hair before speaking. “you’re going to be the death of me, sweetheart.” 

"so are you getting in or not?" you teased, splashing water in his direction.

grayson looked at you for a second longer, hesitant, before pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his toned chest that had you grinning. 

this was always how it went with you two, but you liked — no, you loved it.

it was second nature for you two; you doing something he found reckless, and him following after you anyway. you completed eachother. 

he kicked off his shoes, then without another word, ran towards the water and landed with a massive splash.

you let out a huge squeal, shielding yourself from the wave and laughing uncontrollably as grayson surfaced, shaking the water from his hair.

you threw your head back laughing as grayson approached you. “i can’t believe you got in!” 

he let out a chuckle as he ran a hand through his hair, “you could get me to do just about anything on this planet.” he said softly, his hands finding your waist as the rain continued to pour around you.

you felt your heart skip a beat, but you didn’t let it show. you smiled up at him, the sound of the rain pattering against the water filling your senses. “just about?” you teased.

“anything.” he corrected himself, pulling you even closer against the water. 

"oh, that’s a dangerous amount of power to give someone, isn’t it?” you joked, putting your arms around grayson’s neck. “especially for a hawthorne like you." 

"oh, undoubtedly.” he teased you right back with a barely there smile, as one of his hands trailed up to caress your face. 

“even more so when it’s you." his voice was all low and smooth, it nearly turned you into putty in his arms.

"you’re lucky i don’t plan on abusing it," you said quietly, trying to keep things light, but you felt your heart hammering against your chest as his face drew nearer to yours. this would never get old.

he let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. "you already have, sweetheart." 

he said those words before finally pressing his lips to yours, and the kiss was perfect. it was everything and more that you could’ve ever hoped for, it was the rain kiss of your dreams. 

and just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, grayson’s hands travelled down to your thighs, signaling for you to wrap your legs around his torso. 

and that you did. 

you fought breaking into a smile as your hands weaved through his wet hair, and as you felt his hands on your body. 

it was nothing you hadn’t felt before, but it still gave you fireworks every damn time. 

—

as you pulled back back, both breathless and panting against eachother, you asked him a question. 

“you think that cameras still recording?” you murmured into the tiny space between you. 

“it can record for up to 48 hours before its battery begins to drain, its—”

you cut him off with a quiet laugh, “gray, a simple yes or no would’ve sufficed.”

he smiled, nodding and somehow putting his lips even closer without kissing you, “yes, then.” he breathed out— but you had a feeling he wasn’t really talking about the camera anymore as he pulled you in for another total mind-numbing, record breaking kiss. 

you didn’t need that camera to know that this moment would never be forgotten between the two of you.

taglist: @charsoamerican @ariabedumb @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary

@littlemissmentallyunstable @whatsamongus @anintellectualintellectual @bewitchingkisses @maybxlle

@sheisntyou @midiosaamor @emelia07 @sweetreveriee (if you’d like to be added or removed pls lmk! 🤍)

[babypinkhearts]

forgive me, for i am far too weak to control my desires.

pairing: geto suguru + fem!reader

summary: thrones of splendor and magnificence await you. you are not equals, he believes. suguru is but a mere admirer.

warnings: royalty au, prince!suguru, princess!reader, fluff, fluff, fluff, they both have massive crushes on each other, suguru is so very lovely

word count: 2.5k

a/n: my birthday was this past week and writing this seriously felt like a mini present in itself :3 prince suguru supremacy!

a summer night is tainted with some hesitance. slight frustration, too.

morning feels far.

if you could see it — the light, any peek of sun, it’s down an endless corridor. maybe you can imagine it; hope that it comes somewhat quicker.

and yet prevalence is sickly, and you’re subjected to the dark.

gojo satoru’s land is stupidly big. the palace, even worse. you’ve told him more than once; he’d refute and say he could never imagine himself living somewhere ‘suffocating.’ but there’s too much space for a single person, and the enormous balcony connected to his mere bedroom is just the cherry on top. the absence of humbleness is apparent when you’re around him, he loses some sight. you can only slightly rationalize the size because of how often he’d have people over, all poor victims to his constant need for attention. satoru grows bored easily, and if you’d all let him, he’d take everyone’s belongings and move them into his home immediately. company keeps his world moving.

it’s the reasoning for the banquets — all ‘small’ get-togethers he’d frequently host, inviting those of neighboring kingdoms, as the ‘unpretentious and welcoming’ prince of his family. the gojo clan had respectable reputations, and you loved satoru like a brother, but they all seemed somewhat out-of-touch, no matter your own title as a fellow noble.

it’s around midnight, you think.

you can still hear the band playing. the bass of trumpets and soft melody of violins are almost distant, but you feel the tremors below your feet. it’d been a miracle that you’d momentarily escaped the ruckus, as well as fleeting royals’ hands. to turn down an offer to dance, in the vicinity of hundreds of hungry, watchful eyes — a horrid nightmare.

the noise is muffled from upstairs. every conversation, every obnoxiously loud laugh. surely, nothing can be that humorous.

satoru’s balcony has a nice view, especially at night. however, any verbal compliments have always been sealed tightly between your lips whenever you visit. his arrogance grows stronger day by day — you needed to stunt it for as long as possible. he’d become a bit of a liability, you hardly felt bad for sneaking off to his room for some privacy.

there’s a few clicks behind you when you lean just a little more into the railing.

you pray the footsteps are satoru’s, because the need for some sort of herbal tea is the most prevalent thought in your head, and you have no clue where to look for it. you know that the cabinets in the main kitchen run nearly bare if it’s anything but sugary sweets, and there’s some pool of doubt in you that believes satoru probably lacks anything remotely similar that can satisfy you. he doesn’t exactly seem like the tea type.

you’re a little overwhelmed. you craved to enjoy these banquets — you had imagined that after the fifth one, you’d be adjusted — but your attendance has always felt laborious, and the attention you receive has only grown alongside your age. your head hurts from bowing to lords and queens, the occasional knight and prince. formalities are a chore, a simple game to appear the most presentable.

the footsteps behind you halt. you hold yourself steady, and turn to your right slightly.

locks of black greet you in your peripheral vision. the smell of nice cologne follows right after.

“hate it that much?”

mellow and teasing, it’s suguru’s voice that brushes through. like gently plucking at the strings of a harp, quietly catching your attention. you give him a little glance — to make him feel noticed, and maybe to get a subtle and selfish look at his face. he looks comfortable, you think. at least, as comfortable as you could seem in form-fitted clothing. he looks good, more importantly, blending in nicely with the darkness.

an owl’s coo drives the night, melting like stardust and fading into the sky. it allures you, only draws you closer to the new warmth beside you.

“yes. badly.”

you hear his laugh — it’s the type that trickles with remnants of lasting drowsiness, just hinting at the state. every movement you’re able to peek and see from him is all quite slow, and it’s a mini battle to fight a slight upwards quirk in your lips. he’s tired, it’s obvious. maybe a little inebriated too.

you’ve never felt the need to lie to him. suguru is more like a breath of fresh air; someone genuine in a world of acting.

hesitantly, you turn towards him, meeting calming, honeyed eyes. he’s a little intimidating, even with some visible fatigue. suguru’s gaze has always been piercing, and you’re nearly positive that he’s aware. there’s a confident twinge, a sight of his effect being knowingly apparent. it’s a little annoying.

“you don’t happen to hate it too, your highness?”

when you speak, you break eye contact, far too mentally flustered to continue such embarrassing torture, no matter how addictive. you can feel him still watching you (perhaps, with a small, shameless smirk), and he slowly bows his head in a nod.

“yes. badly.”

it’s you who laughs this time.

you liked suguru. you liked him a lot. since the moment you’d been introduced to him, years ago at a winter’s ball (hosted by satoru’s family, of course). he and satoru were joined at the hip, far too inseparable to even consider letting anyone in between. but then came the addition of shoko, the daughter of one of satoru’s knights (who had later turned into his own), and then you, the daughter of his father’s new royal comrade from a neighboring kingdom.

the two of you don’t swim in riches like satoru. kingdoms separated from the gojo clan require more thoughtful spending — it’s uncommon, the priority your families hold for your citizens. you blame that for the reason why suguru is so easy to talk to, so tastefully levelheaded. he sees through unhealthy voraciousness, just like you.

but a kingdom doesn’t develop without some kind of offering. a trade-off, a contribution of sorts.

you’re shaken out of your thoughts, grimness dissipated, when suguru’s head motions to the opening behind the two of you, left bare and unattended.

you’re slightly surprised shoko isn’t guarding the exterior. but, then again, she’s most likely monitoring the banquet.

“i was growing tired of a bland talk i was having.” suguru explains, leaning ahead, similar to you. an arm stretches out across the railing, and he lets out a sigh. “fresh air sounded much better in comparison.”

there’s something in his voice that you can’t exactly pinpoint. not close to a lie, however not entirely truthful. you’re unable to read it on his face. but, in all honesty, it was hard to pay close attention to anything when he was staring so intently. his eyes might burn through.

transparency reads best. and yet suguru chooses to hide the fact that he’d seen you flee from the chaos of the banquet mid-conversation, and followed right after. the desperation for your attention seemed to had overridden his rationality, and possibly costed him a bit of his reputation. (he’s sure the woman he was talking to might have bored him to death, though).

“it’s suffocating in there.” you reply, shaking your head. “i’m not sure why satoru likes hosting these so much.”

a stamped envelope with a pretty wax engraving shows up outside your castle gates every other month. you hear the stallion of a messenger, and know by the purple hues of the letter that it’s an invitation from satoru. you’ve kept every single one, storing them in a carton box below your bed.

the banquets are phenomenal. you’re left speechless every time you walk inside the ballroom, eyes drinking up every detail from hand-painted flowers on the walls to rich crystal chandeliers. the event itself is an unsaid contest to see who could dress the best, who really screams of royalty.

suguru purses his lips, eyes trailing down below where he can see some guests leaving. servants follow suit. they carry items of negligence, holding on to a toddler’s hand as their parents carelessly cackle ahead.

he makes a motion, beckoning you to crouch from any observant eyes. two young royals sneaking off to a bedroom — it’d be the scandal of the century. his parents had warned him of publicity far too often. you follow his instructions without any complaints.

from the slivers in the space, you still have a good view of the front entrance. roses and topiary line the walkway, leading down a distant road.

a familiar figure steps out, hair slightly blending in with the bright lights behind him. he waves to the departing folk, a large grin adorning his face.

“he likes a crowd. the whole family does.”

satoru was made for royalty.

your shoulders slump in fatigued defeat. the dislike for such public conventions plagues your conscience. you’ll always be tied to them, even unwillingly.

suguru looks to you, fondness in his very gaze. he feels your worry; knows of conversations that you don’t. nothing has ever been fair for you, he’s known it since you were children.

thrones of splendor and magnificence await you. you are not equals, he believes. suguru is but a mere admirer.

he sees you know, grown and enchanting. with a dress that looks so indescribably perfect, and face so pleasantly captivating. you could be in a story book. surely, you aren’t real.

and maybe he is far too smitten, eyes always chasing yours whenever you’re in the same room. at every ball he goes to, every social gathering, he searches for your name on the guest list first.

he remembers when satoru introduced you to him. the all-knowing smirk on his face, the slight shove he had given (mischievous, because he could tell how flustered suguru had become). and yet suguru had kissed your hand ever-so-gently — even bowed in respect.

he keeps hope. that your soul of sun orbits around him for eternity, and that you’ll always be within reach.

there’s more foolish thought, though.

his eyes trail to your bare ring finger.

to wed you —

well, that would be an idea of strictly fiction.

“a duke from the fushiguro clan wanted to ask you to dance. i heard him talking to your father about it.”

suguru’s voice cuts through the silence, cursed words disguised as mystic melodies.

you wince.

it’s hidden through the curtain of your hair, and you’re sure he’s oblivious to it. some part of you wishes he had kept that information to himself.

a dance is all it takes. a dance, then a conversation, then an inescapable ring. marriage is for business, not love. nothing more than the chance to unite two lands — greed runs through royal blood. it all seems hereditary.

you rub your arms gently, and shut your eyes.

“did he?”

suguru raises his head, intrigued.

your voice sounds a little exasperated. breathing a large gust of air, almost in… disappointment.

suguru nods in response, swallowing thickly. you’re friends, you’ve spoken about subjects like this for years. suguru remembers your expressions of secret distaste you would flash to him whenever another royal would attempt to make conversation. you were good at faking interest — suguru thinks you’d be wonderful performing in a play. all maturity (forcefully) weighs you down, however. a means to accept adulthood; accepting a loss of those childish glances and joyful memories. you’re still the same, though.

but could it be, that because you’re older, the age close to a bride, that it all feels much different.

suguru feels a little sick, in fact.

he glances to you, watching as your perched head rests on your hand.

“would you have gone?”

a sound of amusement leaves your lips.

he’s a little cruel to ask for a response so conflicting. it’s all melodramatic, insignificant in the grand scheme of the things. but you know your duty. your heart just doesn’t seem to follow through.

your dress suddenly feels more uncomfortable, and you straighten a little.

“would you like my honest answer?”

you’d never find the courage to lie to him, anyway.

suguru smiles, tilting his head with a small chuckle. once more — you’re a lot less proper in private, always have been. where there’s no fear of gossip or judgement, just your authenticity. no expectations to uphold, just beauty in your natural grace. suguru is blessed.

“enlighten me, princess.”

the name, while being the correct title (something you’ve heard daily your entire life), sounds different when suguru says it. it always has. he’s a siren, you fear. those mystical beings you’ve only heard tales of, the kind that keep your sailors at shore. everything sounds better coming from his lips.

guilt tears you in two.

your best interest should be aimed towards your people — more opportunities, for the price of one measly sacrifice. an unhappy marriage, for many more happy lives.

and yet you say, without giving yourself any time to regret it,

“no.”

you look a little paranoid after you speak, as if guards with chains and pitchforks are just outside the door. but that fear feels minimal when suguru is looking at you, proudly.

some confidence overrides thoughts of ridicule. he’s the armor you desperately desire. quietly, you repeat, “no. i would have said no.”

your interests lie somewhere else. not with a duke who sees nothing further than mere appearance and riches.

weight is lifted.

suguru stares. it’s imminent, his voice. threatening an appearance whenever he swallows too quickly, preparing himself for words he feels are a little too heavy on his tongue. you’re not looking at him — he thanks the heavens that you’re turned away.

he’s unaccustomed to nervousness. you are really the only trigger to it.

he doesn’t dare glance in your direction when he finally speaks.

“would you have gone if i had asked?”

it catches you by surprise.

suguru is looking into the starry distance when you turn to him. he’s smiling a little.

he looks a prince. a real, beautiful prince.

you’d danced with suguru before, dozens and hundreds of times when academy lessons would force the eventual omission of two left feet. learning to waltz was one of the most important rules in the book — a presentation of grace, ‘civility.’ but that was before the simple gesture meant more to the public eye. citizens find such a display as an act of courting.

there’s something in suguru’s expression; sheepish, maybe a little troublesome. like he knows your answer, and only waits for you to confirm it.

you enjoy teasing him, though.

“perhaps.”

there’s a twinkle in his eyes. charm in his gaze is apparent.

the band plays lowly — they’re finishing their last few songs. stringed instruments strum their tune, and it’s delicate harmonies for intimate sways. slow dancing.

a beat goes by. it enhances the feeling of slight wind across your face, pushing back your hair, servicing suguru with a clear view of your reddened complexion.

the midnight moon reaches you, it casts an illuminating glow.

you’re very pretty when you’re looking at him so shyly. as if he’d deny you anything.

a smile reaches his features, eyes crinkling in pure delight.

“well, princess,”

and a single hand reaches towards you, open and inviting.

“will you honor me with a dance?”

[moonrise0111]

Karasuno on a plane

Headcanons

Daichi: is definitely a total pro at putting the bags in the overhead bin. If he sees anyone struggle for a millisecond, he's taking their bag and putting it up for them. He'd spend an hour ensuring all the bags were secure up there so nothing could possibly be damaged if the flight attendants didn't ask him to sit down.

Suga: is a perfect passenger for SURE. He has the utmost respect for the flight attendants and what they have to deal with, and he does his absolute best not to cause problems and to help alleviate any issues that may arise. He also doesn't mind or complain when annoying kids are on the flight. If there are any kids around him, he's definitely making silly faces and trying to entertain them as best he can to give their parent(s) a break.

Asahi: had a fear of flying since he was young, so he self-medicates and sleeps through the entire thing. He usually has to bring someone with him so they can wake him up after they land. He learned from that one time he flew by himself and ended up being woken up by a very concerned flight attendant who was afraid he died and in the commotion of him waking up, he spilled his water all over his pants. He’s still embarrassed from that day.

Nishinoya: is Asahi’s confirmed travel guide and personal alarm clock. He’s also a very light packer so he usually only has one bag for all of his things. Since Asahi is asleep for most of the flight he tries his best to entertain himself quietly (or as quietly as he’s going to get) for the bulk of the flight.

Tanaka: watches movies and laughs way too loud. I mean WAY too loud. He has to be asked to quiet down by the flight attendants. He also likes to play the mind numbing games that you can play on airplane mode. He’s on level 1467 of some sorting game.

Ennoshita: is extremely terrified of turbulence. He pays all of his attention to the safety demonstration and reads the safety booklet several times. He’s perfectly fine unless things get shaky.

Kinoshita: usually sleeps for most of the ride. The lull of the plane relaxes him and he’s out before the plane takes off. He doesn’t really bother anyone but his throat always hurts after he wakes up because he ends up breathing in a lot of dry air with his mouth open.

Narita: sits down with a good book and reads the entire flight. He’s read a 700 page book in one flight. Kinoshita was next to him and fell asleep around page 14 and woke up 650 pages later. He did it the first time because he forgot a bookmark. He regretted it after because he had nothing for the layover or the second flight.

Kageyama: is not very good with airport directions, so he usually barely makes the flight, if at all. He tries to be unproblematic and fails miserably. They never have any of the drinks he asks for and he simply cannot figure out how to work the small tv if he has one. He also hates when the vent is blowing on him and never remembers to download any music or movies to his phone. He also forgets his headphones.

Hinata: can NOT sit still. He’s the guy that is always walking up and down the aisle just to move his legs. The flight attendants have to keep asking him to sit down and he feels awful for inconveniencing them. He also talks to anyone willing throughout the flight. By the end of the flight he’s told at least three people his entire life story. He tries his best to figure out when people are done talking to him.

Tsukishima: spends about 70% of any flight he’s on trying his best to not throttle the small child that somehow ALWAYS ends up sitting next to him. The other 30% is him convincing himself that opening the doors and jumping off the plane just to avoid the screaming is a bad idea. He has his noise canceling headphones in at all times with music full blast but the wailing child never fails to break right through it. Murder is wrong Kei.

Yamaguchi: is the literal pro of airport snacks. His family is pretty well off so they went on far trips enough that Tadashi could determine where all the BEST snacks were in a bunch of airports. He always tries to get there early so he can bring snacks with him off the plane for his friends or family or whoever he’s visiting.

Yachi: somehow manages to convince herself the plane is going to go down and that these are her last moments. Plane rides are a bit of a draining experience for her. She also spills her drink either on herself or someone else every single time. She’s doing her best.

Kiyoko: watches movies and shows to pass the time. She usually goes for silly movies that will make her laugh quietly to herself. Her go to movie is Mamma Mia and go to show is ATLA.

Ukai: gets drunk on the plane. Enough said.

Takeda: has fallen asleep on the people next to him on several occasions. He’s mortified when he wakes up and apologizes profusely. But no matter what pillow he tries around his neck he seems to simply gravitate to the living being that just wants to make it through this flight unbothered.

[yorshie]

Hiya! This was an ask on AO3, thought I'd upload it over here as well just to keep everything even. I couldn’t keep myself from making it a continuation of the turtles fav clothes ask.

Bayverse TMNT X Fem Reader

SFW, though apparently I was in the mood to write the turtles falling over themselves so it's a bit suggestive.

Donnie

Donnie landed a little bit harder than he meant to on the roof of your building, catching sight of the sheet and projector a little too late and assuming someone was already using the space. He ducked in an unconscious effort to hide, knowing it was folly, only to pop back up at the sound of your giggle.

“Love?” He asked, looking around, sure he had heard you.

“Hey baby. You ready for our date?” Your voice came from the far side of the sheet, and he snorted in amusement as the fabric gave a little shimmying ripple.

“Is that what you’ve been planning?” He asked, taking careful steps towards the chairs set either side of the projector. When you didn’t answer his snout swung around curiously, but the only other things he could see was a cooler set up as a coffee table with a few styrofoam containers up top. “Baby?”

“Here.” You called back, and he blinked at the low curse that followed. “Just- having technical difficulties.”

He smiled, starting for the sheet. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re dating a technical tu-” He cut off with a choke, stalling at the sight of your bare back presented to him, your hands trying in vain to reach the zipper that was getting caught on a bit of…

His eyes trailed down, taking in the way the city lights glittered off the purple sequins covering your dress, a small, strangled noise escaping his throat at just how much of your legs were not covered.

“It was suppose to be a surprise.” You half whined, pouting at him over your shoulder, and your words reseted him, his eyes trailing back up your back to give you a strained smile.

“I- It’s very surprising.” He blushed at the break in his voice, but when you only giggled he took a step closer, hands hesitantly raising towards your own. “Can… I can help?”

“Please.” You asked, dropping your hands and arching your spine to hold the fabric taunt.

Donnie tried his hardest not to touch or think about the soft skin beside the zipper, straightening the little piece of metal and pulling it seamlessly upwards until it reached the little latch at the top. “There.” He stepped away quickly, rubbing his thumbs against the side of his first finger in an effort to keep them grounded and to himself.

“Thank you.” You murmured quietly, turning slowly to show him the full outfit. “What do you think?”

Donnie’s head tilted, looking you over, taking in the high collar and the swish of sequins as you moved. The dress was a beautiful dark purple, jewel toned and looking more like it belonged on a fun trip around town, not cooped up on a roof with him. “You’re beautiful.” He said softly, flicking his gaze up towards your face. “Absolutely beautiful.”

You smiled at him, reached forward and clasped his hands, lifting one to twirl yourself around and closer into his arms. “I got Chinese food.” You whispered up at him, grinning. “And those grape sodas you love so much.”

Donnie swallowed, golden hazel eyes caught on the way your eyes bloomed when you looked at him, and quietly let go of the anxiety that said you were better off without him. “That sounds amazing.” He said instead, twirling you back out and following in a small side step dance that let him see the way the sequins covering your dress caught the light. “Maybe we could dance for a bit, first, though?”

Your answering laugh was bright and happy, and his heart soared at the sound.

Raph

A locked down arcade was not the place Raph expected to roll up on when you asked him to meet you somewhere not your apartment, but he wasn’t alarmed until your text said to walk in the front door like he owned the place.

Not knowing what to expect, half his mind worrying you’d been abducted and this was a plot to corner him without backup, he nervously turned on the cctv jammer Donnie had given each of them and cautiously walked inside.

The game lights were still on, soft 80s rock filtering through the speakers, and he stalled, not quite sure what was going on exactly.

“Hey there, tiger.” He turned sharply towards your voice, hackles rising when he couldn’t’ immediately pick out your location before relaxing as your crinkled eyes peeked over a tall pony wall. “Glad you found the place ok.”

He huffed, feeling that adrenaline slowly seep back, unconsciously returning his sai to their proper place. “Jesus, baby, give me a heart attack why don’t ya.” He raised a brow at the high pitched giggle you gave in answer, mind flipping to the gutter in an instant. “Whatcha doin’ over there?” He asked lowly, taking a step closer when you skipped away further down the wall. 

“Nu uh, you stay right there, I’m coming over.” You insisted, and he heard the click of heels on the polished comment floor. He followed the bob of your hair around the corner, smile faltering when you reappeared and he caught sight of what you were wearing.

“Uh…” He trailed off, eyes locked on the swish of the red skirt and the frothy petticoat peeking with every swaying step. “Damn.” 

He kept enough of his head to whistle long and low when you did a twirl for him, but in truth the only thing he could think of was how this was the most girly thing he’d ever seen you in, and he loved it,

“That good, huh?” You asked cheekily, and he was surprised by the instinctual rumble that escaped him as you stepped within arms reach, his hand snagging out quick as a flash to catch your own. 

Real good, but he made his mouth say something else. “You dressed up for me?” He twirled you around again, eyes darting between your face and the swirl of the skirt. When you faced him once more, his free hand dipped, fluffed the bottom of the skirt just to watch the arcade lights reflect on the color.

You laughed, walking backwards, holding onto his large hand when it became clear he was too busy staring to watch his feet. “I thought I could demolish you at the motorcycle games and then we could eat some burgers.”

He almost didn’t hear her words, head dipping to indicate his agreement, before a few syllables made it past the *Skirt* filter and he stopped hard again.

“Motorcycle?” He asked, tearing his eyes away to look for the mentioned game, before returning to your skirt. “You… you’re gonna play in that?”

You smirked, stepping back into his space to tap a finger against his plastron. “I’m gonna kick your ass in this.”

You thought he was broken for a long moment, before a sound ripped out of him. Expecting the deep rumble your teasing usually got, you were shocked to hear a high pitched chirp that you’d heard Donnie or Mikey let loose, every once in a while, but never from your boyfriend in red. 

A visceral shot of panic lanced through Raph’s chest at the slow, understanding smile you leveled at him in answer.

Leo

Leo navigated onto the small balcony outside your apartment with ease, brow furrowing when he noticed all the lights were off, only the flicker of candles on the kitchen island to great him. He opened the door silently, stepping inside with a deep breath. 

Only the scent of you and the scented candles greeted him however, and it eased him enough to call out. “Darling?” 

“Here, babe!” Came your voice from your bathroom, and his shoulders loosened, hands coming up to undo his harness and set his swords against the wall next to the balcony door. “Give me just a minute.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, not really sure if you could hear the low sound, before he stepped towards the table to take in the plates and cups set out in a neat array, belted napkins folded over the clean ceramic. “Are you setting up for something?”

“Well, if you must know,” came your amused voice, “I was planning on surprising you with dinner. It’s keeping warm in the oven.”

“It’s a very welcome surprise.” He assured you, crossing over to the oven and opening the door a little to peer in at the aluminum foil packages inside. “What is it?”

“Your favorite.” You called back, and his heart pinged softly at your words, one hand reaching inside to try and peek at the biggest dish.

“Hey, what happened to patience?” Came your teasing voice from right behind him, and he smiled, hand retreating and closing the oven while turning to give you his attention.

“I was just peek-“ He trailed off, and you smiled at the way he blinked long and slow at the sight of you posing at the edge of the hallway leading to the bathroom and your bedroom in a blue dress whose length kissed the floor.

“Blue?” You asked, taking a step closer. “You ok?”

He took a step closer abruptly, herding you back until your back hit the corner where the kitchen transitioned into the next room, arms coming up to softly touch the silky midnight fabric that he swore matched his eyes better than his mask. 

“Where’d you get this?” His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, thumb rubbing across your hip in a way that would read as absent minded if not for the sharp precision in his gaze.

“Found it on sale.” You whispered it to him, hands skating along his arms. “Judging by this reaction, I’d say it was a good gut purchase.”

“Very good.” He agreed, finally moving from your space only to clasp your hand with his own and pull you further into the living room. “You look beautiful.”

“Beautiful in blue?” You guessed, teasing gently as he raised your clasped hands and convinced you to twirl for him. A rough sound punched out of him when he saw how low the back dipped, a long tailed bow that was familiar hiding the top of the zipper at the base of your spine.

“Beautiful in anything.” He explained, “but especially in blue.”

You chuckled low at the feeling of his other hand sneaking in to press right above the bow. “We should probably eat, then, before the food gets cold, and then maybe we could bust out the playlist and dance for a while.”

He tilted his head, and you could tell he was considering convincing you to just skip dinner, but you purposefully nabbed the little placard from the restaurant that was sitting on the island, placed it under his nose until he could focus on the name embossed across the little card. 

“That’s evil.” He said, tearing his eyes away from the two words, and you laughed out loud at the pout that crossed his lips.

Angelo

Mikey wasn’t expecting anything fancy, though he knew you were planning something. There were too many questions in the text chain the last couple of days, too many times you’d double checked his preference for something or the other to be anything but a surprise. He looked forwards to it gleefully, especially when he got the text asking him to come over Friday night. 

You weren’t anywhere to be found when he let himself into the small place you called your own, shucking his backpack and chucks noisily and whistling so you’d hear him. A white box sitting on the coffee table with a well known bakery logo stamped across the top had him audibly swallowing, fingers itching to get ahold of whatever confections he hoped was hiding inside.

He must have made some instinctual noise, because a light giggle floated through the apartment, and he tilted his head, grinning as he heard you moving around in your bedroom.

“My, what great pastries you’ve got here, babes.” He called, hopping over the back of your couch and snagging the box.

“The better to tempt you with.” You called in a sing song manner, and he hummed in agreement, listening to the sound of your feet carrying you closer as he chose one of the chocolate filled varieties and bit into it with a little sound of enjoyment.

You snorted, from the kitchen now he thought, and listened as you shut something in the microwave before hitting a few buttons. “Save some room for the pizza, Angelo, it should be here any minute.”

“Ooo, baby, you spoil me rotten.” He set the box back on the table, used his free arm to roll himself back over the couch and landed with a thud. “M comin’ to help you with those fizzy orange drinks.”

“How’d you know I got those?” You sounded amused despite the accusation, and he grinned as he rounded the corner into the little kitchen.

“Cuz my baby always gets-” He cut off, pastry halfway to his mouth, eyes bugging at the little orange velvet loungewear you were wearing.

As if you could hear his eyes popping out of his skull, you threw a smile over your shoulder from where you were stretching up towards the top of the cabinet. “Hey, babe, come give me a hand?” 

Mikey stuck the whole pastry into his mouth and crowded you against the counter, hands proffered to show you that he in fact, had two he could offer you. 

You snorted, pointing upwards with a smirk. “The popcorn bowl, Mike. I can’t reach it.”

His eyes were slow to tear away from the two large collar and the way it slipped off one shoulder, baby blues flicking to your eyes before following the extended finger to the large metal bowl on the top shelf. 

“Mm, ye~ I cef gef che thef.” He swallowed, tongue all but shoving the pastry down the hatch, before he reached up without moving and snagged the bowl easily. “Here ya go, one bowl retrieved.” 

You tried to hide the smile at the fact that he was still all but trapping you against the counter. “Angelo?”

“Yeah babes?” He asked, eyes back to being glued on the little strip of stomach he could see between the matching top and bottom.

“You gotta move so I can get the popcorn.” You explained, popping one hip out and smothering a laugh when his eyes jumped to the movement.

“Uh huh. Popcorn. Right.” He said, fumbling to set the bowl down with one hand and snagging one of yours with the other.

When he made no further move, you rolled your eyes fondly and pushed lightly on his plastron. “Baby. Popcorn. Then cuddles?”

“Cuddles?” He parroted the word, and it was like the synapses fired correctly that time, because he all but jumped to complete the task to get one step closer to the reward.

You chuckled fondly, turning to the fridge to retrieve the ‘fizzy orange soda’, pretending not to hear the chirp behind you when he obviously saw what you were doing.

[drabblesandimagines]

Home

Leon Kennedy x female reader I just wanted to write some damsel in distress nonsense with Death Island Leon, but imagine whoever you like! Fluff - though mentions of blood, smatter of death.

Coming to, you feel as if you’re hungover - disorientated, nauseous and a sore head - but that can’t be right, you didn’t drink last night.

It takes a moment to localize the throbbing pain only to the side of your head rather than all over and, as you catch sight of blood smeared against the white tiles of the kitchen floor – something you were desperate to change as white shows up everything­ - you remember.

You’d been working in the home office. Leon had set it up for himself originally – you’d never been brave enough to research what the price of the beautiful mahogany desk must’ve been, but you’re always sure to use a coaster to avoid marking it. He used a laptop, so he’d insisted you utilize the space instead for your desktop when you moved in over a year ago. It was a nice house, on a quiet, suburban street – he’d bought it as a fixer-upper, a bit of a passion project. The rooms were all in various states of completion but he wanted your opinion and input.

“This is our home,” he’d stressed, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Plus, you’ll be here more than me…”

You’d heard of the conspiracy theories surrounding the Raccoon City incident. Who hadn’t stumbled down that rabbit hole before? Leon had confirmed it in vague, half-told recollections of the night a few months into your relationship after an argument about his commitment issues, and you hadn’t pressed further than that since. He told you the bare minimum so you were aware of what his work now entailed, why he had to go away for weeks at a time, why he was so desperate to keep his work and personal life separate for your safety and protection.

He accompanied you when he could to family and friends’ celebrations, charmed them all into forgiving him for his flaky appearances, but they could all see how happy you were since the two of you had got together.  

You’d been wearing noise-cancelling headphones as you worked to drown out the next door neighbour’s relentless building works that had started on Monday – a basement leak meant the foundations were being fixed and the noise was horrendous - and had gone to the kitchen to make an ill-advised afternoon coffee and…

Nothing.

Well, the building works have stopped which is a positive, but that doesn’t negate the blood on the floor and your thudding head.

“Mrs Kennedy, I presume.” A man, well-dressed in an awful tight-fitting suit kneels down in front of you. He doesn’t look familiar - blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, a bit of stubble, looking tired, mid-40s, you guessed. You’re confused by the way he’s addressed you – you’re not married, there’s no ring there - and he clocks the bemused expression at once. “Or perhaps you’re his whore, waiting for him to return to your little love nest, hm?”

There’s no good answer or witty comeback so you keep silent, instead trying to raise your hand to feel your head, gage how bad it is – head wounds bleed a lot, you knew that much – but your arm doesn’t comply. Your gaze finds the plastic of the zip-tie cutting into your wrist, holding it snugly against the arm of the chair you’re now seated in - dragged in from the dining room.

“Ah, yes.” He cups your chin, tilting your face back towards him in an effort to get you to focus on him. “A necessary measure. I need you to play the damsel in distress.”

“Leon’s not here,” you reply, quietly, words feeling thick on your tongue though it’s not a lie. “He’s away with work - I don’t know when he’s going to be back.”

“Oh, he’s due home very soon. I couldn’t make such a pretty thing wait for days on end.” He lets go of your chin only to place his hand on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. You try to jerk away from his touch but find your ankles have received the same treatment as your wrists, though tethered together as if to stop you standing.

“I apologize about your head,” he stands up then, a smug look on his face as he towers over you. “I did tell my men to be gentle, but it appears one misunderstood.”

You shuffle in the chair in a pitiful attempt of relieving the pressure on your wrists. “Who are you?”

He clucks his tongue. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Kennedy’s ETA is four minutes, sir.” A gruff voice states from behind you.

“Excellent.” Your captor smiles. “I suppose he was hoping to surprise you with his arrival, hm? Nice that we can turn the surprise around on him.” He snaps his fingers at one of his subordinates, “You can gag her now.”

A hand yanks your hair, forcing your head back and you gasp only for a wad of fabric to be stuffed behind your teeth. You try and push it out with your tongue on instinct but another bit of fabric is forced between your lips, keeping it snugly in place as it’s knotted at the back of your head, causing you to whimper – or at least attempt - when he brushes up against your head wound.

There’s a hive of activity around you – the three grunts getting into position, checking their ammo. They can’t just plan to shoot Leon outright, surely. Why would he need a damsel otherwise? Your captor grabs the back of your chair and drags it, positioning it in line with the hallway door, meaning that you will be the first thing he sees. He places his hands on your shoulders and squeezes.

“Showtime.”

Your heart is pounding so loud it’s all you can now hear – maybe it’s so loud Leon will hear with that incredibly sensitive hearing he has before he opens the door, know something’s wrong and get the hell out of here.

No such luck, though. The building work next door hasn’t resumed, so you can hear him cut the engine in the driveway, hear when the Jeep door opens and closes, hear the jingle of his keys in the door. He has his eyes cast down when he enters, immediately turning to the lock the door behind him out of both security and habit.

“Sweetpea?” He sounds upbeat, happy as he calls for you and it breaks your heart all the more when he turns, eyes meeting yours. “Fuck.” He breathes out, taking a hurried step forward, hand automatically reaching for his pistol still holstered on his belt. A loud click pierces through your left ear, cold metal prods into the side of your temple and Leon freezes in place.

“Uh-uh, Kennedy. Unless you wanna see your lovely lady’s brains splattered all over the floor, I’d drop that right now.”

Leon doesn’t hesitate, holding his hands above his head and dropping the pistol to the ground, hitting the wooden floorboards with a thunk.

“Keep those hands up and kick it over.”

Leon complies, kicking the pistol so it skids down the hallway, swiftly collected by one of the grunts.

“Dante.”

“Oh, I’m flattered you remember little ol’ me. Come - join us.” The gun leaves your temple but the fear remains as Leon slowly strides up the hallway, hands still in the air. “Pull Kennedy up a chair and make sure he’s comfortable.” A grunt ducks into the dining room and emerges with one the armless chairs, placing it down heavily on the kitchen tile as Leon enters. He’s swiftly smacked across the face with the butt of a gun, followed up by a punch to the stomach, causing him to double over. Another grunt grabs his arms, yanking them behind his back and you know by the way his biceps tense that he could break out of that hold easily enough, but he’s choosing not to.

You feel horrible that you’re the reason why he’s not.

He’s pushed down onto the chair and his wrists are quickly secured behind his back with a zip tie through the wooden slats. He lifts his head up to reveal a bloodied lip, but his eyes are immediately on you as he speaks.

“She has nothing to do with me and you, Dante.”

“Oh, I know that.” He scoffs, digging his fingernails into your shoulder once more. “But your little sweetpea is so useful in making sure that you remain on your very best behaviour.”

“You’ve got me now, okay?” Leon shrugs his shoulders in demonstration. “Let her go.”

“Aw,” Dante tuts. “Did you think you had her out of harm’s way, Kennedy? Kept your personal life underwraps? Granted I couldn’t quite confirm her name, but here we are all the same. Pretty little thing – shame she had to get wrapped up with you.”

“What do you want?” You can tell Leon’s annoyed, though he keeps his voice measured.

“The Apollo files.”

Leon raises an eyebrow, scoffing. “I don’t ha- Ugh!” The grunt in front of him had pistol-whipped him once more, his nose now bleeding a little in consequence.

“Next time you tell a lie, your woman is going to get the same treatment.” You grip the armrests in apprehension and Leon once again tenses as he notes your discomfort.

“Okay, okay! They’re in the attic. One of the storage boxes up there – there’s not many. Against the south wall.”

“Good boy.” Dante chuckles, ruffling his hand through the agent’s hair condescendingly. “You two - with me,” he points at two of his men, before turning to the third. “You, keep an eye on the lovebirds.”

“Be careful where you step up there – I haven’t put in a permanent floor. Been busy.” Leon retorts.

“Aw, boys, he’s worried we’ll hurt ourselves.” He grabs Leon by the chin then, squeezing his cheeks. “We’ll be right back. I wouldn’t want to keep this lovely lady waiting any more than she has to.”

He shoves Leon’s face to the side and heads out to the hallway, the two grunts following as the third remains in position to the side, gun in hand.

“I’m so sorry, sweetpea, but I’ll get you out of this – I swear.“ Leon says softly, turning his head to the side to look at you. “Okay?”

You nod – there’s little else you can do – but you know you’re shaking. You hate yourself for doubting him, but you can’t see how the two of you are getting out of this in one piece. He doesn’t say anything more, his eyes flitting from one direction to another as he calculates his moves for what feels like hours.

The building work next door resumes – a loud drilling echoing around the kitchen. The grunt winces at the sound and Leon gets to his feet, arms still bound around the dining chair and headbutts him, sending him stumbling back, blood gushing from a broken nose. Leon spins then, slamming the chair against the marble countertops, splintering the wood and releasing himself from the chair. He then jumps again, tucking his legs impressively close to his chin, though letting out a strangled grunt and his bound hands are now in front of him. He lifts up his knee, tenses his biceps and slams it down, the zip-tie splintering across the floor – all in the time it takes the grunt to come to his senses and aims his gun blindly, sending bullets thankfully in every direction but yours.

Leon ducks and dives, swiftly grabbing the grunt around the neck with an arm and holding it tight, cutting off his air supply until he goes limp in his arms and he grabs hold of the man’s gun, quickly checking the cartridge with one smooth downward motion.

A bullet sails over his shoulder as one of the grunts returns from upstairs and Leon quickly takes him out with a headshot. You divert your eyes then, not wanting to see. It’s them or you – you know that – but it doesn’t make the act easier to witness.

It is barely a second before another gunshot rings out, followed by a second - Dante and the remaining man at the kitchen doorway, though the grunt goes down as quickly as he entered due to Leon’s return fire.

Dante’s face is furious, his gun aimed squarely at your head and he pulls the trigger. Leon sidesweeps the chair legs from under you, sending the chair toppling backwards and you with it, your head smacking once more against the tile and making your ears ring and vision dance with black. The bullet soars over your head and into the kitchen cabinet.

There’s another gunshot, a horrible, squelching sound, and then a series of grunts and groans – flesh on flesh – but you can’t look up, can’t see what’s going on as a succession of gunshots ring out and there’s the sound of a body hitting the floor.

There’s the clatter of a drawer being opened frantically and then, suddenly, Leon is above you – his shoulder bloody – and a knife in his hand. He lifts your head up gently, cutting through the back of the gag and pulls it away from your mouth, fishing out the fabric that had been making you feel close to choking.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you.” He says softly as you catch your breath, taking glorious mouthfuls of air. “Stay still, okay? I’ll get these off you.” He presses the blade against your wrist with a careful flick and you’re released from the first of your restraints. He makes quick work of your other wrist and the ones around your ankles, pulling you up into his arms, cradling you in his lap.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, rocking you back and forth. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Leon, it’s-”

“Don’t say it’s okay. It’s not okay. I promised to never get you mixed up in this. I don’t know how they found this place, how they found you. I’ve been so fucking careful, baby.” His voice breaks, along with your heart.

“I know you have.” You try and soothe. “It’s not fair, but it’s not your fault, sweetheart. I love you.”

He presses his lips to yours then, kissing you softly. “Love you too – so much. Feel so selfish.”

“Uh-uh, no – you deserve to be happy. I want to make you happy.”

“You do, sweetpea, but-“

“If I can’t say it’s okay, you can’t go down this road either and we both can’t pout about it.”

He sniffs, rolls his eyes and you finally remember the blood patch on his shoulder.

“Did you get shot?” He shakes his head. “Grazed me. I’m fine. You, however, need a full check-up.”

“If I’m having one, you’re having one too. We can have a date to the emergency room.”

He laughs – it’s nice to hear, to see the smile reaching his eyes. “I owe you a much better date than that.”

“Nah – maybe they’ll put you in a hospital gown.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“What?” You bite your lip.

“The ones that don’t tie at the back?”

“Oh, don’t they? Interesting.”

He kisses you again then, with a bit more passion than before. “Baby, you do not have to get me in a hospital gown to see my ass.”

“Who said anything about seeing your ass? Get your head out the gutter, Mr Kennedy.”

Leon rolls his eyes once more, getting to his feet with ease with you still in his arms. He pushes your face into his chest as he walks towards the front door.

“Leon, no, you need to rest your shoulder. Put me down - I can walk.”

“Don’t want you to see.” He murmurs. “I’m gonna get you in the Jeep, call work quickly – they’ll come sort this mess – then straight to the hospital.”

You keep quiet then, closing your eyes and inhaling his scent as you nuzzle your head against his chest, a realisation hitting you.

“We won’t be coming back here, will we?”

He pauses, fiddling with the keys in lock.

“I’m sorry. I know you were finally feeling at home here and-”

“No.” You cut him off. “Home is us together – wherever. Okay?”

“Yeah.” He opens the door. “You’re right. Home is with you, sweetpea.”

--

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[mothxmoons]

hey! o was wondering if you could do resident evil 4 leon where he’s self aware and yandere for the reader bc they feel really bad for getting him hurt so often :(( they just aren’t used to the controls.

maybe the reader leaves the xbox or console or wtv on after they finished the game to let it update another game and leon didn’t want to let the reader go so he drags them into his world where they can’t get out?

Hehe yandere and thank you anon, you have given me more ideas.

You were playing the original resident 4, on the 27th anniversary of resident evil. It was very late at night when you started playing, around 3 am, playing before the new one comes out. You yawned as you stared at the clock, god you were up late. But just as you did so, Leon got bit by an arrow, making him stumble.

“Oh! Sorry, Leon!” You mumbled, concerned. For a moment you could almost swear you heard him chuckle.

You had finished the game for a while now, so you might as well get something to drink and go to sleep while you download another game.

It seemed like a certain person didn’t like that you were planning on playing another game after finishing his though. While you were getting a drink from the kitchen, the tv made a noise, making you turn to see the error in your download progress. You immediately run over to the tv to see what was going on, trying to navigate the menu with your controller. However the cursor would not move. It was stuck in the same place.

You were confused, this wasn’t normal, this shouldn’t be happening to your controller. But when you went to shut off the tv something else happened instead. The tv wouldn’t turn off, instead it opened Resident Evil 4, and showed only Leon’s face, staring, unblinking, blue turning to red eyes at the camera. At you.

“Come on, sweetheart, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” He said, his mouth curling up into a grin. “And don’t think you’ll be getting away from me that easily, either.”

You took this opportunity to throw down the controller and bolt for your room. Just as you turned the corner down the hallway, you heard the glass of the tv. It was either cracking or something but you didn’t want to be around to see. You could hear his boots land on the floor the moment you closed your bedroom door as quickly and as quietly as you could, searching for a hiding spot. Damn your room and it’s bare floor! You slowly opened the closet and shimmied to the other side as quietly as you could and closed the door once more. It still was open by a crack, but you couldn’t do much with that. You could hear him coming down the hallway, thump, thump, thump.

You heard your door creek open.

“Sweetheart, don’t be scared. I just want you is all. Forever.” His voice was close.

You heard the light switch to your room flick on. You could see his shadow move about the room, see him move about your room, hear him look under your covers and under your bed. Moving your chairs and your things around to try and find you.

You could see his shadow move over to the closet, covering the crack of light that the small opening provided. You held your breath. With bated breath you watched as he rummaged around, grabbing a piece of clothing you couldn’t make out and pulling it to him. You heard him sigh and close the closet, and you waited. Waited for his footsteps to go away. Waited for some indication he was leaving.

The door suddenly flung open to reveal Leon standing there, not giving you any time to react as he grabbed you and held you close to him.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll love it at home. My home….our home.” He corrected himself as he carried you to the tv, your thrashing and squirming did little to deter him.

And with one swift motion into the tv.

You were gone.

[copinghex]

Basis | T.S

Summary: "His day had been awful, the stock market crash gave him an awful headache, his family certainly would be against any solution he could possibly find and at last, her words made him stumble and crash"

The house was uncharacteristically cold for an autumn night, the wind whistled through the windows crevices and that was the only sound to be heard, even the maids' heels were silenced by the fall of the night.

The crash of the stock market affected the Shelby company to levels no one could foresee, since everyone assumed their currency was safe in Michael's hands. They were far from bankruptcy, as a matter of fact they would never have to worry about going back to the Watery Lane again, but the concern was inevitable.

The big clock in the hallway announced midnight and Y/N jumped at the sound of the heavy pendulum, usually the maids kept the clock from making any noise so it wouldn't disturb Tommy's light sleep, it seemed that tonight they forgot to.

Before entering her shared bedroom, she waited to see if the bang had woken up her baby, no cry was heard, making it feel like she was alone in the house.

However, she wasn't, Tommy sat at her dressing table brooding with a glass of whiskey, his shoulders hung low and he barely noticed her presence. She knew that state of him very well, he was stuck into his mind, thoughts running in his head like a down spiral.

She approached him slowly, as if he was a wounded war horse. Her gentle hand squeezed his shoulder, the tense muscles fitted on her palm begging to be looked after. 

All Tommy offered as an answer was a slow blink and another sip of his whiskey, the bottle was full earlier that evening and almost empty by then. Y/N didn't doubt he had a high resistance to alcohol and yet, she couldn't help but worry.

"So what have you decided? I know Linda didn't let you speak," she referred to the family meeting they had.

"Nothing yet," Tommy mumbled, "fucking nothing," 

She took the glass from his hand before he could take another sip, a few drops trickled on his trousers and he cursed trying to take it back. In a quick gulp, she finished the drink.

"What are you doing, Tom?" she scolded.

"Y/N please," he sighed, "not now, not fucking now," 

"Look at state of you, stand up, Tommy," she demanded, but he didn't move at all, "fucking stand up!"

Tommy's eyes widened as she pulled him up with all her strength, he stumbled on his stool and firmly held onto her arms, certainly the spots would get sore later.

"Are you drunk?" she asked quietly, the look in her eyes didn't hide the concern and Tommy didn't have the heart to push her away.

However, he didn't answer, instead his rough hands traveled to her nape and tangled his fingertips on her hair. At that moment he was unable to express the relief only her presence brought, he was certain that he'd go mad if he had to deal with everything alone.

Tommy stared at her gentle eyes and she stared back. The face she very much loved was forming wrinkles, gray hair hid itselves in his well drawn eyebrows, above everything he looked exhausted.

Cupping his cheeks, she traced the scars on his cheek and under his chin, a wave of overwhelming affection washed over her,

"You're my basis, Tommy," she whispered, "I know I don't say it often, I know I don't say it enough, but the truth is that none of this would make sense without you," 

Tommy hid the shock her words caused by looking down at his own feet, he was beyond surprised. So he wasn't just an income, someone actually cared for him, the idea nearly brought tears to his eyes, he always thought being loved would be comfortable and relieving, but it only formed a knot in his throat.

He didn't see himself as worthy of love, especially not hers. Tommy couldn't tell exactly when he started to think she should leave him, he only thought someday she would and he wouldn't have the right to complain, because he was well aware dealing with him was a burden.

Noticing a single tear running down his face, she quickly brushed it off and pulled him to her arms. His chin rested on her shoulder as he held his breath, a trick to keep himself from crying he learnt in his childhood.

Nevertheless, he wasn't able to keep up with it when her hands traveled through his back. While one held the back of his neck, the other traced his spine with gentle, yet firm pressure, next moving to his shoulder blades and lower back. 

At last, her embrace became tighter around him, assuring Tommy's silent cry it was okay to come out, if it wasn't for the movement of his back and the tears wetting her clothes, she wouldn't believe such simple words had that effect on him. The truth was, Tommy was much more fragile than he let show. 

"It's alright, let it out," she soothed, petting the shaven back of his head, "I got you,"

Five, ten, twenty minutes passed and Tommy started to try controlling his breath, he knew that if he fully let himself go his cry would become compulsive, the tears would run down without control and turn an intimate moment into a humiliating one.

Slowly, he breathed in and out, laying his head on her shoulder. She tried to look him in the eyes, but Tommy quickly hid his face on her neck, he'd hate to be seen with teary eyes and wet cheeks.

He held onto her clothes tightly, at the same time her scent calmed him down, the gentleness she offered made him want to cry again.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed, "I'm fucking sorry,"

"It's alright, love, don't apologize," guiding him to bed, she held him in her arms.

Running a hand through his hair, Y/N respected his wish to hide, the bridge of his nose fitted on her neck as his wet eyelashes brushed on her skin. His day had been awful, the stock market crash gave him an awful headache, his family certainly would be against any solution he could possibly find and at last, her words made him stumble and crash. 

Eventually, Tommy's eyelids got heavy, her warmth relaxed his tired muscles and he felt safe enough to let the worries slip away. He fell asleep with his head on her shoulder.

Realizing he was asleep, Y/N took the opportunity of doing the same, in the last few months sleeping near him had become a rare occurrence. 

Hours went by, enough for the wind gusts to dissipate and a storm to form. The heavy, gray clouds covered the moon in the dark sky, releasing thick rain drops that hit the window with brutal force. 

The noise woke Tommy up, he lifted his head to see his wife in deep slumber, he didn't know how much time passed, but he felt less tired, it had been a long time since he took a nap without waking up from time to time. 

Peeking at the clock at the bed table, he squeezed his eyes shut and sighed, four in the morning wasn't exactly a proper hour to wake up, especially if he had slept past midnight.

A sleepy noise from Y/N captured his focus again, his eyes wandered to the drawer in which he kept his opium bottle and he quickly came back at her. Finally, he decided to not disturb her sleep, well aware he probably wouldn't fall asleep again, Tommy snuggled to her and closed his eyes. He wouldn't say it back, but she was also his basis. 

[reptileyan]

moth boy is in your house and keeps wrecking the place and you think he's a demon but he's fluffy and he squeaks

For Anyshiptober 🎃

Cw nsft, mental illness, paranoia, religious trauma/fear of demons (reader is safeish but very afraid)

Also the darling monster in this is an adult, but short, cute, feral and referred to as such.

You've been ignoring it for days.

You only see it at home, sitting on your couch like it lives there. It doesn't speak. It chitters sometimes. You assume it doesn't exist, you've seen things that aren't there before.

But this one stays, and stays and stays.

It looks like a void. Or a moth. You don't look directly at it for a few weeks. And then you don't look at anything, because it shorts out the electricity by touching your favorite lamp, shattering the glass.

It shrieks, and you curl up on the floor. You've finally lost it. It's cold and dark. And something unreal is messing with you. Probably a demon, your paranoia about one finally finding you tearing your anxious heart to shreds. You can't move or cry.

Soft fluff presses up against you, panicked squeaks as it paws at you. Tears begin to fall, and you're shaking, and you just want to fall asleep. You can't live like this. You can't be alone, driven to madness, haunted or possessed or hallucinating in the cold dark.

You're being dragged across the floor, sharp tugs. Maybe it'll eat your soul or tear your heart out. It isn't very strong though. Oh yeah. You're heavy.

Monsters should be big, giant things that tower over you, growing as they feed on your fear. This one spends several minutes trying to hoist you up onto the bed. It gives up and drops you, gasps at the sound of your head hitting the floor, running its hands over your head. Satisfied with your condition, it skitters away. You hear shuffling, huffing as things are moved. Fabric against fabric. It spends a few minutes making what you figure is a portal to hell.

You are approached, and you brace for pain that keeps being delayed, your heart pounds so hard it hurts, your sobs returning. You are dragged again, lifted with great effort, and thrown onto a pile of pillows and stuffies and blankets. No portal opens. It's a nest.

The thing churrs as you lay there. And that's when you decide to move. Thrashing and screaming, managing to hit hardwood floors hard enough through the nest to break the skin on your knuckles. You can't hear its response over the screaming. Lighting appears, forms into chains that wrap around you, preventing further injury other than a mild shock. Not damaging, just strange, your hair standing up and you get a glimpse at its terrified face, eyes wide, feelers flat against its head, heavy breathing. Hyperventilating.

You don't calm down, you can't, until you nearly pass out. Exhaustion weighs you down, and the thing staggers over, hesitates, collapses in front of you. You manage to catch it before it hits the floor too hard, pulling it on top of you. It's so small against you, slight figure worryingly light, barely sinking into you. It's cold.

You draw a blanket over both of you. It sniffles. You take a stab in the dark, decide it's a boy. For no reason other than you decided to be a boy, and you like boys, and you'd prefer to have something in common. If it indicates it wants to be called otherwise, you'll call him something else. For now he doesn't seem to mind.

You breathe deep, shuddering sighs wrack your body. He follows suit. You gently, slowly, over several minutes, wrap your arms around it, waiting for noises that could mean panic or pain.

You get a soft churr, it grows louder as you stroke the fluff on its head. Fur. Mini feathers.

It feels nice.

Little lights appear in the air. Mini stars, crackling and burning out. Your companion turns over, cooing and pointing as if he doesn't know he's creating them. You ask quietly if he has fluff inside his head as well. He chitters, taps your face with his antennae. You flinch and the lights disappear, he curls up into himself, pulling away a bit. A few minutes of humming and petting, and a few return. Slowly, dimmer this time. Pretty still.

He wakes you to drag you to the window in a wild frenzy, gesturing at the sunrise, beaming and dancing when you look. Sharing the beauty with you.

You are tired, and want to sleep. But you can't, because he nudges you every time you lie back down, chirping and peeping. First playful, then bored, then worried, frantic as it shakes you with all its tiny might. So you have to get up, on a saturday, in the morning.

It's awful for ten minutes. Then you're having coffee, and cartoons are playing. The fluffy boy, your self designated shadow, happily perched on your lap, playing with your hair, running his hands over your body.

You sigh, deep and low, and he ruffles, gazing up at you with a smile, as he tugs at your shirt.

It takes him awhile to find a way underneath, but he's delighted when he does, sinking into your full chest, sweet chirps and churrs as he noses into you. You think he's fallen asleep, until he shifts, and starts to rock his hips into your belly. Something thick, and warm and velvet and slick prods against you, shoving its way into your belly fat, enveloped by you. He barely makes a sound for the first few moments, just pants. Then lights are everywhere and he is extremely loud, you're covering his mouth as he ruts into you and squeals with delight.

It doesn't occur to you to push him off, just to manage the noise and let it have his fun, the odd little thing is harmless enough. He cums within a minute and it's everywhere, copious amounts running down your chest and dampening his fluff as he nips and licks at you. Lovely.

The bath is the worst part, you don't get fully electrocuted, but you make a note to get a rubber hazmat suit or something.

He squeals indignantly, even after you wrap him in a dryer-warmed towel. Chuffing and stomping away to flop in the nest, you watch him go, and google what moths eat, and begin to draw a diagram indicating water plus electricity equals dead human.

It stomps back out before you can finish to chitter at you, climbing up your body, shivering. You decide he eats human food, and go back to your cartoons and blankets, mumbling an apology for daring to cleanse him as you order a pizza.

A power outage happened across a third of the city last night. Does anyone even sell rubber lamps? Rubber moth cages?

He nuzzles into you. The damp fluff feels weird.

He churrs and begins to rock into you again.