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atrwriting · 5 months

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trust me -- billy the kid x barowner!reader

hi everyone :) sorry I've been MIA — law school has been kicking my #ass but it's ok. I saw the new thg movie and while IAMNOTACORIOSNOWSTAN but I am a t*m bl*th and the man was so fine in this show. so fine. I've only seen like three fics for this man (maybe I just don't know how to search correctly thats probably my fault) but I was SEARCHING FOREVER and then I just got pissed because I couldn't find any so I wrote almost eight thousand words for this man that is how down bad I was

informal warnings: me. 1) I should be put on a leash 2) I use italics way too much 3) and whatever the fuck this "—" is 4) will i ever give up the female bar owner trope 5) will I ever stop tho? [vanilla ice voice] no, I don't know

as always, the actual warnings: smutty smut smut SMUT!, unprotected sex (1880's bby but you still gotta wrap it before you tap it), violence, guns, bit of gore but like the tiniest bit, virgin!reader, p in v sex, oral sex, bit of a dom!billy, bit of a bratty!sub!reader, overstimulation what can I say I should be put on a leash

anyway.... here's trust me:

when your father died… it was hard to be sad. he wasn’t very kind and he never seemed to like you very much… but in his will, being his only surviving kin, he left you money.

a lot of it.

and an old building.

the town it resided in was convenient in the way that many people that were passing through had to stop there. so what did you do? well, the only thing you could do — turn it into a restaurant and boarding house.

the money he left behind was used to fix up the place and pay your employees.

within a few weeks time, your place was up and running with very little vacancy. families and important people were always in your bar or comfortably in their rooms. never had you ever thought someone could be as lucky as you.

until one day. that day.

you worked alongside your employees but flipped between positions. sometimes you were a hostess, ran the front desk, a bartender, or anything else that needed tending to. in response, many people did not know you were the owner — and, therefore, some people treated you like you weren’t.

mainly gross old men, which you could handle. however, when a young, strong, and tall man challenged you?

that was dangerous. too dangerous.

even a fake wedding ring didn’t steer them away.

on that day, a young blacksmith had found his way into your bar. he was handsy with you much of the night, and you tried your best to steer him away. it wasn’t until you pulled a knife on him that he finally let up. it didn’t look like anyone saw, but still — you were scared and worried. would people think you classless, for pulling a knife on a patron? would they see you as weak? would they notice that the alcohol you served brought in too rowdy of a crowd? would they stop venturing in?

you thought no one noticed, and tried to convince yourself of that fact — but you were wrong.

when you were closing for the night, mostly everyone had left. a small group of men usually stayed until close — and you didn’t mind. they drank well, paid their tab, and were mostly quiet and polite. you didn’t know any of their names — but it was usually bad when you did know a patron’s name, so you liked them.

you had your back turned to the front of the bar, stacking bottles, when someone cleared their throat from behind you.

“ma’am?”

you turned around.

a tall, fair skinned man with a hat stood before you. his clothes were old and worn, and his fingernails reflected that he was a hard worker during the day. that type of exhaustion was also reflected in his eyes.

but, damn... his face? no one could deny that that man was handsome.

you smiled. “another drink, sir?”

“no. thank you.” he paused for a moment, keeping your gaze. “i wanted to check if you were alright.”

you immediately knew what he was talking about, but kept your face stoic. “yes, sir, thank you.”

he looked like he wanted to say something, but struggled with how to word it. “he usually a problem?”

you clenched your jaw. “he’s… he’s fine. too much drink, ‘s’all. gets the best of working men. can’t blame ‘em.” you swallowed, trying to keep your anxiety at bay. who was this man and why did he care? was he a friend of the man? “you sure there’s nothing i can’t get for you?”

“some wouldn't blame ‘em.” he ignored your question. his bright blue eyes held your gaze. “i would.”

you forced a tight lipped smile. with a laugh, you joked, “i’ll… be fine, sir. thank you. thought a fake wedding ring would do the trick… gotta think of something else now.”

he smiled, but in a sad way. “i was going to ask if your husband ever checked in on the place.”

“no husband,” you affirmed with a sigh. you introduced yourself, and then asked, “what’s your name?”

“william h. bonney, ma’am… but you can call me billy.”

“nice to meet you, billy,” you smiled. “and, please — don’t call me ma’am.”

“alright.” he returned your smile. “the men behind me… we run a sort of — security detail for part time work. if you ever wanted to hire us, we could have a man here when we can spare.”

you nodded, contemplating your offer. he explained the per diem, and you immediately agreed.

“if your man can keep this place safe with little bloodshed, i’ll even throw in a free bottle a day,” you countered.

and that was how your business with billy the kid and his men began.

the men that came along were usually polite and quiet, and mostly stayed at the edge of the bar. they watched for problems, and slowly but surely your fear had begun to subside. there was a minor scuffle one day, where a man had cracked a glass and cut you with it… but billy’s man had stopped him before he could do anything else. you didn’t hold it against billy’s guy — you cared about your business and if the business got bloody, not so much yourself.

billy, on the other hand… did not agree.

one day, bright and early, he parked himself at the middle of the bar where you stood behind the counter.

“rarely see you for detail,” you smiled, wiping down a glass. “much less this early. breakfast, mr. bonney?”

“billy, ma’am,” he responded. “breakfast does sound fine.”

you laughed. “i hate when you call me ma’am.”

“don’t much like it when you call me mister,” he quirked an eyebrow. billy was a rather emotionless and hard man, but you could tell he was joking.

you laughed again. “steak and eggs for billy, coming right up.”

the rest of the day went on peacefully, and you kept billy’s glass full. he was quiet and didn’t talk much, which you weren’t too keen about. he was mysterious, tall, dark and handsome — which was usually a bad combination. you knew it was, and you should’ve cared — but you didn’t.

as you were filling billy’s glass into the later hours of the afternoon, you finally bucked up the courage to ask him a question.

“so why did you stop in today?” you asked. “not that i mind. i just have only seen you when you come in at night.”

“we made a deal, sweetheart,” he responded. your eyes perked up at the nickname. you didn’t hate the nickname — but you hated yourself a wee bit for how much you liked hearing billy call you it. “the man i sent here was supposed to make sure he kept you from harm — he didn’t hold up his end on the deal.”

“it was kept quiet from the other patrons,” you responded. “that’s all i really care about. i’m a woman in the restaurant and boardinghouse business — stuff like that is bound to happen. no need to be hard on him.”

“you keep my men’s glasses too full for them to let slip ups like that happen,” he replied. “he knew better. should've acted better.”

“you’re the boss, billy,” you sighed with a smile. “i’m just the bartender.”

“damn good bartender at that,” he spoke. “too good.”

you giggled, and grew ashamed rather quickly at how much you enjoyed his company. you didn’t know him well, no… but damn, was it nice to have him around.

the rest of the night was rather quiet. a few families had stepped in and out, and a few meetings were being held where the tables sat. that was until the blacksmith that started this whole thing came in and sat himself only a stool away from billy.

you threw a look at billy, but he didn’t meet your eyes. his peripheral vision was already on the man. billy remembered him, and you couldn’t say fondly.

“whiskey, sweetheart,” he grunted. “leave the bottle.”

you sighed. a quiet day was going to turn into a rough night in a matter of a few moments.

“mr. martin, i can’t leave the bottle unless you settle your tab from the nights prior,” you answered. “i can get you a double and add it on, though, if that’s alright with you?”

“that’s not alright with me, girl,” he grunted again, glaring you down. “leave the damn bottle!”

you stood your ground. “there’s a bar across the street, mr. martin.”

“you don’t want my business, that it, sweetheart?”

“not much business if you don’t pay," you quipped.

through gritted teeth, he spat, “leave. the damn. bottle.”

“pay. the. tab.”

he went to catch you by the arm, but you were too quick. you anticipated his antics this time. you snatched an empty bottle, and broke the base of it in the sink. you put the broken, jagged edge of the neck of the bottle in between the two of you. your eyes were wild — you could feel it, and both men could definitely see it. startled, he drew back.

“this is the only bottle you’re getting with that attitude.”

that was when billy stood up and walked towards the man. the thuds of his boots, though few considering the short distance, were deafening in the mostly silent bar. you may have had a makeshift weapon, but billy? billy the kid? everyone knew what he had on him.

“time for you to leave, friend.”

the man laughed. “friend? who’s my friend to tell me when i need to leave?”

“the one who’s a quicker draw than you, that's who." his answer was slow and cool — too calm, which only made the shiver of a threat run up and down your spine faster.

the man, all talk, clenched his jaw as he stared at billy. he slapped the tab money on the top of the bar, and walked out.

you didn’t let out a sigh of relief until the man left.

but billy was the one that spoke first. “was going to step in immediately… but you held your own. they need to respect you before they’re scared of me.”

you laughed. “little does he know i’m all talk as well.”

“with that bottle?” he chuckled. “sweetheart, even i was scared.”

“you threatened him with a gun… i don’t think anything scares you, billy,” you asked. “thank you for stepping in.”

“‘s my job.”

“i know… but still,” you spoke.

you were continuing to close before he spoke again.

“what made you want to start this place?” he asked.

“my father passed a few moons before i opened this place,” you responded. “no parents, no husband — thought i might try this out.”

“my ma wanted to start a place like this,” he replied. “never got the chance.”

you nodded with a sad smile. “didn’t know her… but i think she’d be proud of how you handled that. don’t think he’ll be much trouble anymore.”

“she’d think i’m trouble with how full the lovely bartender keeps my glass,” he spoke, but looked like he instantly regretted it. “my apologies, i shouldn’t’ve — the whiskey —“

“you’re fine,” you laughed, your blush pinching your cheeks. as you walked away, you threw over your shoulder, “hopefully your ma wouldn’t mind that i keep her son’s glass full for his good work… nor that i think her son’s handsome.”

from that day forward, billy was always the man who sat at your bar.

he always greeted and made pleasant conversation with you, and glared at any man that got too aggressive with you. if looks could kill… billy would never need what he held in his holster.

you’d giggle to yourself after the creepy men would walk away. you’d never know… but when billy would hear your giggle afterwards, he’d smile, too.

but he kept that to himself.

however, slowly… he was becoming more comfortable with your company.

“so why didn’t you marry?” he one day asked randomly.

you were wiping down a glass when you got lost in the thought. “when there’s a nice one that’s interested… maybe. haven’t already because there aren’t very many nice ones. it was very convenient when you started keeping the bad ones away.”

to your dismay, he didn’t say anything in response.

but you had gotten comfortable with his company, too. too comfortable.

“and why isn’t there a mrs. bonney, billy?”

“she’d get jealous about how much time i spend with you,” he responded.

there was very little emotion in his voice, and you were afraid of reading into what he was saying. was he returning your flirtations? was he telling you that you were a drag? to answer your own question, you jokingly said, “well if i’m too much trouble, mr. bonney, you are more than welcome to have another one of your men step in.”

“well, ma’am —“ he began. “then i’d get jealous of how much time they were spending with you.”

you couldn’t hide the blush that rose into your cheeks. billy looked upon your face with a small smile tugging at his lips, and his gaze didn’t waver.

“keep talking like that, billy, and i’ll become trouble for you,” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“can’t say i’d mind much,” he responded, taking a sip of his glass, but holding eye contact with you.

if you weren’t frozen, you would’ve pulled yourself over the bar right then and then and planted yourself in his lap. you would’ve flung his glass to the floor, and wouldn’t have cleaned it up until you had kissed every inch of that man. you would’ve responded, but you couldn’t...

that was when billy’s men had stepped into the bar.

the air immediately darkened. the blonde one, named jesse, had led the pack as they stalked in. billy immediately flipped around to see what the problem was.

“sweetheart, give us a minute,” billy asked, calling over his shoulder.

billy never gave you orders, let alone in your own bar. however, if he was asking you to… you figured you should probably listen. you left the bar and went into the back. most of your employees had left for the night, so you helped the remaining ones clean up. it would be a few minutes or so before billy had come back into the kitchen to find you. you went back into the bar with him.

“i’ll be back before you close,” he spoke. “lock the doors.”

a second order. something he never did in the first place. something was wrong. you didn’t pry… you just scrunched your eyebrows in response.

“something’s up,” he spoke. he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before he turned to leave. “i’m takin’ care of it.”

there you stood, absolutely stunned. billy and his men left the bar with haste and didn’t look back. you, on the other hand, stood frozen… unable to leave the spot where you had billy the kid, known for his deadly skills, kiss you on the cheek.

you finally moved, reluctantly, but only to close up.

it would be close to an hour before billy finally came back. a few of his friends came with him, and they dragged in a man on their shoulder who was grunting in pain. blood was pouring from his leg, and you immediately went for the medical supplies you kept hidden under the counter. you grabbed two bottles of whiskey for good measure, arguably also a part of your makeshift kit.

“put him down on the table,” you gushed. his men were stunned to see you hustling, but they didn’t hesitate to rest their friend. you immediately took a look at the man’s leg, and were thankful to see that there would be no permanent damage. you shoved a bottle at jesse, and stated, “make him drink this.”

jesse had unscrewed the bottle and helped his friend drink before you fished out the bullet. thankfully no arteries were punctured, but it would be some time before he was good again. you cleaned up the man the best you could, and asked if any of the men needed anything.

“no, ma’am…” jesse responded. “we were going to bring him here and do it ourselves, your place was closest… so thank you.”

you smiled at him. “take the bottles. need it more than me.”

he tipped his hat to you.

“jesse,” billy began. “you and the boys head home.”

without question, jesse nodded. they helped their friend to his feet and left with a goodbye. even though they left, the unsettling feeling of the room hadn’t changed. billy seemed… different. heavier. he wasn’t the same man that had kissed you on the cheek before he had left.

you turned to him. “i won’t pry, but —“

“good,” he spat, turning to you. billy’s eyes bore into yours like you were one of the problem men at your bar. “don’t.”

a look of hurt flashed across your face. you could feel it. “you’re looking at me like i did something.”

“i told you to lock the door,” he spat again, his look of anger unwavering.

you had only seen billy's eyes that wide and that angry when there was someone being cruel to you. the thought made you shiver.

“how would you have gotten back in?” you asked.

“knocked,” he bit.

you narrowed your eyes at his curt response. “i had a feeling something was wrong. if i had waited to unlock, i couldn’t have gotten that bullet out as fast as i did.”

“doesn’t matter,” he bit. “how am i supposed to keep you safe if you won’t listen to me?”

you scrunched your brows together in confusion. “billy… whatever happened where you were, it wasn’t here. i could’ve gone to bed… but i stayed up. waiting for you.”

“and what if someone came in, huh? what then?” he hollered. “what would you have done then?! what would i have done if you had gotten hurt?”

you shook your head in disbelief. you couldn’t believe billy was speaking to you with such disdain. “with the way you’re talking to me, billy — sounds like you’re used to women who don’t pull knives on creepy men, hold broke bottles to their necks — or fish bullets out of legs when i don’t know why he was shot in the first place. you’re used to those kind of women, and have a problem with me? maybe you should go back to them.”

you immediately turned away from him, beginning to walk towards the bar. billy was hot on your heels when he reached out to grab your wrist and turned you around.

he grabbed both sides of your face and pressed his lips to yours.

you wanted to scream at him, throw fists at his chest, push him away — anything to let you know how he hurt you, how he wronged you... but you couldn't.

no. you couldn't.

you were so stunned you stood frozen in place as his lips moved against yours. you loosely held his wrists in your hands, and kissed him back.

“don’t want those girls, darlin’,” he spoke, breathless, in between kisses. “knew you were a real woman the first time i saw you. the kind that puts the fear of god into you, but looks at you with such a sweetness in her eyes that you can’t look away.”

“better believe it, bonney,” you spat, half joking. “you’ve seen how quick i am.”

“i know, darlin’, i know,” he whispered, kissing you once more. “i also know i was wrong to speak to you the way i did.”

“shut your damn mouth and kiss me,” you replied, pulling him closer to you.

“yes, ma’am,” he playfully responded, and you slapped his shoulder.

billy had backed you up against the wall and pressed his body towards yours. you stood on your toes to reach him, and even then he had to lean down a foot or two.

“billy…” you began, pulling away. “i’ve never… but if you wouldn’t think less of me, we could go upstairs. to my room.”

“i’d never think less of you,” he spoke, shaking off your comment. “but… what’d’ya mean, ‘never?’”

“i’ve never been with a man, billy,” you responded, suddenly embarrassed.

he was quiet for a moment, before stating, “you sure you want it to be with me?”

you nodded. “if… if you want to, that is.”

he didn’t respond to your statement, he just kissed you. he kissed you with every emotion you didn’t think he ever possessed — raw, hot, desperate emotion that held you close and tight to him. the heat and the intensity made your brain swim, but you could only care so much when billy the fucking kid wanted you.

he slipped an arm around your shoulders and then underneath your knees before he picked you up. you bit back a squeal before you threw your arms around his neck.

“light as a feather, sweetheart, don’t you worry,” he spoke.

“all that steak i been feeding you?” you joked.

“my belt can’t help it if my woman feeds me well,” he replied, almost at the top of the stairs.

“you’re a flirt,” you giggled.

you pointed him towards your room. once in, he laid you down on the bed and laid on top of you. his body was warm and sturdy over yours, and you couldn’t help but feel warm. his hips were pressed against yours, but you couldn’t feel him through your dress. you grew frustrated at the thought.

you made quick work to undue his shirt, and billy was quick to catch on. he pulled away to take off his shirt, and you tried to take off your corset with his help.

“damn death trap,” he spat, fussing.

you giggled. he was cute when he was flustered, but nothing compared to the way he was looking hungrily down at you. you were completely bare before him, and you should’ve been embarrassed… but shame wasn’t present in this moment. the only thing you registered was how billy looked down at you — with adoration in his eyes as they raked down your naked form.

“will you…” you began. “will you show me… how to please… you?”

“another time, sweetheart,” he spoke, stealing a quick kiss from you. “i need my head between those legs of yours.”

“you-you don’t have to —“ you spoke. “i know that’s not something — that boys —“

“yeah — boys.” billy snapped, glaring at you. “real men want to taste their women.”

that shut you right up.

billy wedged himself in between your thighs and spread your folds. it caused a sharp intake of breath on your part, but you didn’t realize what you were in for. billy flattened his tongue, and licked a long stripe up your slit. your teeth sank into your lip at the foreign feeling that cause so much warmth to make your veins twitch.

…but when billy’s nose had nudged a specific spot at the top of your slit — your legs jerked.

“what — what —“ you stammered.

“shh,” billy cooed, slightly laughing. “i forgot how sensitive you were. my apologies, sweetheart.”

you trusted billy, sure, but you had never felt anything like that before in your life. the jerking motion of your legs was involuntary and made you fearful. billy could see the fear written on your face.

“that spot that i touched, that you felt?” he asked.

his eyes were so wide and meaningful you felt like you could melt in them. you brought yourself up to your elbows and hummed in acknowledgement.

“that is the most sensitive part of a woman, and if i play it just right —“ ever so lightly, you felt his middle finger and ring finger touch the spot. you shivered at the feeling, but you didn’t flinch like last time. you held his gaze as the warmth began to spread inside you. “i can make you feel better than you’ve ever felt.”

billy bent over your body and held himself up with extended arm planted firmly by your side. he swiped the two fingers over his tongue to lubricate them, and brought them right back to where they were. you both watched his fingers play at the most sensitive part of you, and your lip began to quiver.

“look at me, sweetheart.”

your eyes glanced back up to him.

like you thought before, if angry looks could kill… anyone would die by just a look from billy the kid. however, what would they say about the way he’s looking at you now? with his plump lips parted, and his eyes wild and hungry? you didn't know... but you knew you would find out.

“y’trust me?” he asked.

you hummed in agreement, nodding.

“say it.”

you sharply inhaled, caught off guard by his order. “yes, billy — i trust you.”

instead of leaning back down to plunge his face in between your thighs, he kissed you. his lips connected with yours in one of the most dominating ways you ever thought a man could. with his hand playing between your thighs, he swallowed every moan and cry you struggled to keep hidden inside of you. billy was breathing hard against you — relishing in how it felt to have you so vulnerable and close to him.

that was when his fingers picked up speed.

and, god… did it feel damn good.

“b-billy,” you whimpered. “feels…”

“still trust me?”

“yes,” you cried, screwing your eyes shut. “yes, it’s just…”

he leaned his head down so his mouth was right by your ear. his breaths were hot against your ear, and you hummed at the feeling. your hand played with the curls at the nape of his neck, tugging at the roots.

“fuck — you takin’ what i’m givin’ to you, darlin’,” he rasped, then continued, “drives me insane.”

you could barely hear what he was saying, nor could you respond. your head was swimming with the weight of billy so close to your naked body, holding you down and safe, with those skilled fingers of his working you like you were a damn trigger. you were a whimpering, crying mess — and billy loved every second of it.

“something — feels —“

“d’ya want me to stop?” he asked, breathless.

“no,” you whimpered, confused how the warmth inside you felt like it was going, going, going. you didn’t know where it started, where it was going, and definitely didn’t know where it ended. you were worried that you were going to explode — but you didn’t understand. “something feels — like i’m — i’m going —“

“let it happen, sweetheart.” his kisses were wet and sloppy along the skin of your throat. he nipped at the skin, and that only sent you into more of a frenzy. “that’s right, darlin’. that’s it. trust me. i’ve got you.”

and that was it.

the thing — billy’s words, that sent you toppling over whatever metaphorical edge you could think of to describe it. it felt like white, hot sparks went off behind your closed eyelids and were going off on every nerve ending in your body. whimpers left your bitten lips like you were a babe, and your back arched off the bed. distantly, you could hear billy cooing with excitement, laughter… and praise.

a light sheen of sweat was on both of you, and billy had never looked better. his musk was wafting through the air and had completely taken over your senses. you felt like the only thing in the room was billy and the only thing in the world that mattered was billy. men got drunk off whiskey, but you? you got drunk off of that pure, unfiltered scent and look of a masculine man who showed you how to experience the pleasure of a woman you had never known.

“fuck…” you whimpered as you came down from your high. you tried pushing billy’s hand away, but you were so weak you didn’t think you could.

“sorry, darlin’,” he laughed, kissing your throat again. “got selfish. wanted to keep seeing that pretty look on your face.”

it was difficult for you to find words, let alone enough for an adequate response. “billy… that… that felt…”

“i’m gonna be trouble for you now.” he stole a kiss. “nothing better than seeing you below me, like that…”

“i want you to feel good, too,” you began. “please, billy? i wanna see you, too.”

his lips formed a tight line. “i don’t want it to hurt you.”

“first time doesn’t always hurt,” you spoke. “no one says the second time hurts.”

he smiled at that, and began to roll on top of you. you stopped him, and gestured for him to sit up against the headboard. he was hesitant at first, but he did it anyway. you hovered your hips above his before licking one of your palms and gliding it over the tip of his length. you stroked him a few times, and a soft moan left his lips at the feeling.

“i can keep going,” you spoke, throwing a sultry look up at him. “i want to make you feel good.”

“no, doll,” he rasped. “too selfish. need to see that pretty face of yours do what it does again.”

you pouted for a short moment before you lifted your hips above his length and began to sink down. you could feel a slick leaking from your folds, which made you feel better about actually getting him inside you.

“go slow,” he ordered suddenly. “you stop if it hurts, got it?”

you nodded, half ignoring him.

but it didn’t hurt.

the first inch didn’t hurt. the second didn’t. the third, the fourth, the fifth, sixth, — you lost count. billy was so big and filled you so nicely that you were so greedy with how you sank down into him. you couldn’t have cared less about what he said before about going slow — all you needed was to feel all of him completely.

“you didn’t listen —“ he grunted, slightly mad. “you’re so lucky you feel good, fuck — you’re so tight —“

“so what if i didn’t listen, mr. bonney?” you smiled coyly at him, a sudden bout of confidence coming over you. maybe it was the post orgasm glow, maybe it was the new feeling of having the most perfect man inside of you — you weren’t sure. “you feel — so good.”

“don’t get bold on me, sweetheart,” he smirked.

you didn’t listen. you picked up your pace, rocking your hips back and forth to what felt good inside of you.

billy’s cock liked that, sure — but he didn’t. you could see the mental turmoil on his face as his neglected cock was finally getting the attention it deserved, but his hothead person didn’t like that his girl was getting smart on him.

that was when billy flipped you over onto your back, much to your dismay. you liked putting on a show for him and doing all the work for a change.

“you wanna act like that, darlin’, huh?” he asked in your ear with a raspy, lust filled voice. “not gonna listen to me?”

“it just felt so good, billy, please —“ you were whining at this point, pissed he had taken away that feeling.

“oh, you’re a greedy thing, that right?” he taunted. “gets one fuckin’ taste, and now she can’t get enough?”

you shook your head, desperate for something — anything. “so greedy, baby. please, billy — please just fuck me.”

his hips snapped against you. hard.

maybe it should’ve hurt — but fucking christ, it didn’t. it felt so good to have his strong, forceful hips thrust against yours and hit that spot so deep inside of you.

“you like that?” he asked, taunting you. “that’s what my greedy girl wanted? — needed?”

his hips were relentlessly snapping against yours now as he hovered above you by holding himself up on his elbows. the sight of his broad and strong chest and shoulders… enough to make any woman weak. a firm crease was in his brow, signaling he was struggling to keep up his mean persona.

“yes — yes —“ you cried. “billy, you’re so deep — it feels — fuck, you can’t stop billy. please —“

“sweetest fuckin’ pussy,” he grunted. “squeezing me so tight.”

“right there — that’s the spot, baby,” you bit your lip to keep your voice down.

billy leaned his forehead against yours, and his exhales fanned against your face. little moans were escaping his lips as well, but nothing like yours. instead, he spat, “couldn’t let me be nice to you and fuck you sweet, huh? had to get smart on me?”

you could barely hear him. billy’s usual raspy, and commanding voice was enough to make anyone stand at attention — but now? now you were some cockdrunk whore who didn’t care how she got what she wanted, only that she did. his thrust were hard and fast, hitting a deep spot in you that was making that warmth swell up in you again.

“didn’t want sweet, billy,” you whimpered. “wanted you to use me just like this.”

you weren’t sure what came over you — and billy wasn’t sure either. his thrusts didn’t falter, but he couldn’t understand how the pretty, innocent looking bartender could be so fucking naughty — but only for him. a sense of pride had never welled up inside him like that before, knowing that he was the only one who got to see the prettiest girl in town keen for someone’s touch like this.

his touch. only his touch.

“gonna be the fuckin’ death of me,” he spat against your ear. “should’ve known you’d be such a good girl for me — taking my cock like this. can you cum around my cock like this? gonna be the best girl — and show me how that pussy tightens around me?”

the curse words billy drew from you were not your sunday best, but they made billy’s guttural groans against your throat and ear that much more enticing. you were both covered in sweat, spit, and slick — and nothing had ever felt better. you were close, so close — and all you wanted was to see him finish so you could see it for yourself.

“billy, i’m so close —“ you cried. “but i wanna —i wanna see you —“

“shhh,” he cooed. “gonna take what i give you, sweet girl.”

he sent a hand in between your bodies, and started playing with that spot that had made you explode the last time. you almost protested, but there was nothing like having a man buried so deep inside you do whatever he could to make sure you felt the best you could. you whined, you cried, you screamed, fuck — you did everything to let him know that you were close, billy, i’m so close, please, i’m begging, please don’t stop, and billy refused to look away from your beautiful face as you came undone below him once more.

with your beautiful hair fanned out around you, billy thought you looked ethereal as your second orgasm overtook you. there was something about the way your eyes fluttered softly closed, but broken gasps left your lips like you were so far gone in pleasure that you were lost in it. here, beneath him, before him, was a woman he had spent so much time protecting, so worried about her safety… all he wanted to do was make her feel good. when your limbs began to quiver, knowing you were so deep in your orgasm that you were at the peak, billy couldn’t help himself. he knew you were sensitive, he knew how it would be too much, he knew he shouldn't — but he had to. he was so, so selfish with his greedy girl.

his fingers kept spinning circles on your pink rosebud, and it was like the white light behind your eyes couldn’t stop. you were gasping for air — begging, pleading, hoping, wishing. it was so much. it was too much. it was everything and anything all at once, and you didn’t realize how far you were falling until tears leaked from your eyes.

he should've hated himself for making you feel so lost, but he didn't. not one bit.

“billy —“ you cried, shaking. “i’m so — so sensitive —“

he engulfed you into a long kiss, smiling smugly against your lips. you would’ve laughed with him, but you were so weak. so, so weak. he knew how sensitive you were, and stopped his movements completely. you didn’t realize he hadn’t finished with you until he began to pull out of you.

“billy — you didn’t —“

“s’alright, darlin’—“

“no, it’s not,” you said firmly. “teach me how to do — that thing.”

“that... thing?”

“with my mouth.”

he hesitated before shaking his head. “i don’t… tonight was a lot — for you.”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “boys don’t taste their women, right? men do?”

he scrunched his eyebrows together, confused, but nodded anyway.

“and what about real women, billy?” you asked. “you think they like leaving their men unsatisfied?”

his lips parted at a loss. he couldn’t argue with that, could he?

“sit on the edge of the bed,” you spoke, sliding out from under him and finding a place on the floor.

he hesitated, but he didn’t argue with that, either.

you tried to hide your smirk from him.

he'd never tell you he saw it. he also would never tell you he loved it.

"you gonna tell me what to do, or what, cowboy?" you smirked up at him, taunting.

he shook his head, and pursed his lips in a way that he knew you were in over your head. "you're acting bold. let's see if you got a reason to."

you narrowed your eyes at him, but smiled anyway.

you returned your attention to the muscle you were holding in yours hands. it was long and thick — you weren't sure how it fit inside you before, and you definitely weren't sure how you were going to fit it in your mouth.

"too much for you, darlin'?" he quipped.

you shot him a look. "wasn't too much a minute ago, was it?"

you didn't let him respond. you licked the palm of your hand — throwing manners to the wind — and wrapped your hand around the tip and the top of the shaft. you made circular, stroking motions at the top and licked a stripe, like he did to you, up his shaft.

that shut him up.

a long and drawn out fuuuck had left his lips.

you shouldn't've — you knew you shouldn't've.

but you did anyway.

you started to kitten lick at his balls, and you could feel him shift from above you. hot and heavy groans were leaving his lips, to the point where he was incoherent. now that you had found his sweet spot, you'd never let go. just like he didn't.

"fuck, you are naughty," he rasped, voice dry and cracked. "my naughty girl. so good f'me."

you hummed as you wrapped your lips around the skin of his balls. they were warm and salty, and you relished in the taste. billy placed a heavy palm on the back of your head. you realized then and there he was foreign to giving up control — usually you'd give in, but not now. not when he was teasing you before.

you replaced your hand with your lips, and brought him down as far as you could.

from the corner of your eye, you spotted him beginning to fist the sheets.

tears were springing to your eyes, but you didn't care. you wanted to — had to keep going. you wanted this so badly — to take care of him. you needed this, and if he wanted it, too — he was going to give it to you.

you began to bob your head up and down, taking care to mind your gag reflex and teeth. the slurping sounds from your mouth were obscene — as was the drool falling from your lips, down your cheek, and along the skin of your raw neck.

both of billy's hands were on the back of your head now, giving you slightest — almost ghost like — push down. you welcomed it, hoping to show him you could take him far, farther than he thought you could handle.

above, he was going crazy. fucking nuts. his entire body was hot and on fire, and it took every ounce of him to not drag you back up into his lap and impale you on his cock. however... his muscles were tired, and his sweet girl looked so perfect on her knees before him, and who was he to deny her what she wanted so badly — what she earned?

he'd never tell you — but he wanted you to have it more than you wanted it yourself. he wanted you to know that he only felt comfortable enough with you to be in such a vulnerable position like this — pretty woman, teeth so close to his jewels. he wanted you to know that you were setting every nerve, vein, blood vessel on absolute fucking fire with the way your silky tongue slid down the length of his shaft, and the way your tight, warm throat enclosed around his sensitive cock... he wanted you to know how much he adored you, and how much he wanted to give you everything you had ever wanted.

"fuck, sweetheart —" he bit. "I'm so close — you better — pull off —"

"too much for you, cowboy?" she only pulled off for a second, before she put him into the deepest parts of her throat.

the way you teased him set a raw set of anger and adoration through this veins, and he didn't know what to do with it. he was so weak, tired, spent, and fucking horny — he couldn't move, think, or fight back. all he wanted was to cum down this sweet girl's throat and make her his.

"that's it, baby, fuck —" he spat through gritted teeth, the hands on the back of your head encouraging your movements. "right there, right there — fuck."

you held your place, keeping a few inches of him in your mouth. his thick cock throbbed a few times before ropes of white decorated the walls of your throat, and you swallowed every last drop. you pumped him a few more times, for good measure — and also to get back at him for earlier.

"don't be mean to me, baby —" he whined. "come up and lay with me."

you giggled, crawling up the bed to lay next to him.

"gonna tell me how that was?" you asked. "or too proud?"

he chuckled then. his post orgasm glow was so beautiful... for the first time, william h. bonney didn't have a permanent from embedded in his brow. he looked so... peaceful.

"not too proud to admit that was the best I've ever had in my life," he laughed, letting his eyes close. you trailed a hand up and down the soft skin of his chest and stomach before curling up next to him. "going to be proud after i take you to the courthouse tomorrow and make you my wife."

you scoffed at that. "i didn't think cowboys were the settling down type."

"they're not — but i'm no cowboy, sweetheart," he rasped, turning to look at you. "you're it for me — if you'll have me, that is."

you smiled then. a real smile. the type of smile that gave billy hope.

"on one condition," you spoke.

his eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded his head anyway.

"you'll ask me for real in the morning, mr. bonney."

"i'll give you anything you want, mrs. bonney — as long as you're mine."

---

what did we think?? xox

-L

#billy the kid #William h bonney #william h bonney x reader #kid antrim #billy the kid x reader #william bonney #William bonney smut #billy the kid smut #billy the kid 2022 #tom blyth

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solarwoniii · 5 months

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" ˋ꒰ pinky promise ꒱ " - ft. choi seungcheol

[ nsfw post! minors please do not interact. there are many other posts on my and other’s blogs which are much more suitable for your consumption! ]

syn. nothing gets to cheol like a pinky promise

a/n. OMG SECOND FIC IN THE LAST MONTH??? SORLAWONI LOOK AT YOU GO???? gusy i love seugncheol i wanted to write more of this but it was getting too long so i cut out the part where seungcheol jr comes in and i put it in another fic LOL

cw. fingering, orgasm denial, vvv teasing dom!cheol, vvv subby!reader, daddy kink, praise, petnames (princess), ermm i think thats it but lmk if i missed anything!

wc. 0.8k

"b-but you promised i could cum-" you mindlessly rambled into your sleeve, your body twitching with pleasure all over as seungcheol rammed his three thick digits in and out of you rapidly, having you choking on your own breath as you struggled for air, "a-after i took my p-punishment..!"

he only scoffed in response to your choked out reasoning, his ruthless movements clearly showing no sign of stopping, "oh, and remind me what you promised me, princess?"

you felt tears pricking at your eyes, your cheeks heating up from bashfulness as he slowed his movements, now curling his fingers up into your core, edging you for what felt like the millionth time tonight.

with his other hand he grabbed your chin between his two fingers, looking into your eyes, "i asked you a question."

you sniffled through the flooding tears which grooved along your pink waterline, "i-i promised i would s-stop being a brat..." you whimpered softly.

"hmm, that's right." seungcheol responded in his deep, earthy voice, "it doesn't feel nice when someone doesn't keep their promise to you, does it princess?"

you shook your head and bit your bottom lip, "n-no daddy.." you said, voice coming in sharp shards as his thumb came up to rub at your clit, sending shockwaves of bliss through your veins. you blinked hard at some tears as they rolled down your cheeks, "i'm s-sorry..."

"awh, you're sorry?" he pouted mockingly in response to you, but with your fuzzy head now, you really couldn't tell that he was ridiculing you.

you nodded your head quickly, the tears in your eyes webbing into your lashes, "i'll b-be a good girl... p-pinky promise..!" you babbled, your words only slurring together as your fogged up brain seemed to fall into another level of dumbness.

seungcheol only chuckled lowly at this, "pinky promise?" he repeated, clearly amused at just how fucked out he had gotten you, to the point that you were beginning to lose your own mind. "well, there's no arguing with that, is there princess?" he teased at you, his fingers seemed to suddenly speed up in fluidity.

your mouth only fell agape, eyes rolling back and head lulling to the side as your back arched off of the mattress at the feeling. his thick, long digits filling you all the way to the brim, his fingertips rubbing over your hilt in a way so pleasureful, you could see stars in your blurry vision. your hand gripped tightly onto his shirt as you looked up at him, your eyes glistening with tears as the moonlight from the window nearby shone in on your pretty little convulsing figure on the bed.

"d-daddy, c-an i-?" the rest of the sentence caught in your throat as you looked up at him with pleading eyes.

usually, he'd use this opportunity to tease you into a farther away dimension of overstimulations, asking the annoying questions like, 'can you what, princess?' so that he could watch your quiver and writhe until you were sobbing into the satin of your pillowcase, begging for your climax like a helpless little damsel.

but you'd been punished by a fair amount tonight, and he was feeling generous. he kissed your forehead gently and nodded his head, "let go for me, princess."

and let go you did, gushing around his fingers, a choked cry leaving you as your entire body trembled with delectation, your eyes shutting tightly as tears escaped down your temples. your soft, yet sharp whimpers made him smirk as you held tightly onto him, as if he were all you knew.

"that's it princess... good girl," he murmured as he leaned in to kiss you. he pulled out his digits, rubbing them over your sensitive heat in gentle circles to help ride you out as you came down from your high, panting heavily against the feel of his mouth.

once you had soothed, he looked down at you with a warning stare, "this is the last time i'm letting you get away with it, okay? if you misbehave again... you're in trouble."

that was what he had told you last time. and the time before that. and the time before that. every time, he'd bent. his soft spot for you was just too deep for his own good. the both of you knew that his threats meant nothing, but you looked up at him innocently and batted your eyelashes anyway, nodding your head.

he sighed softly and kissed your cheek, "you're gonna be the death of me one day..." he muttered, closing his eyes for a brief moment, before looking back to you, "come on, let's get cleaned up. i'll cook dinner."

taglist. @hunbun07 @metalchick529 @chewryy @haesunflower @iraa567 @jwchn @bunhoons !

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ieatstarsforaliving · 7 months

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The Origin (1)

Summary: How you and Hazel and the fight club started. Also Hazel's Spider-Woman. But you don't know that.

Pairing: Spider-Woman!Hazel Callahan x Classmate!Reader

Warnings: Mature language, use of (Y/N), mentions of bruises and cuts, Idk what else

Word Count: 1508

Note: It's literally my first post. It may suck. I don't care. I don't get paid for this. I hope you do enjoy though, cause there's not enough Spider-Woman Hazel Callahan fics out here. Love yall - Bia <3

“You got paired up with (Y/N) for the ‘women murdered in history’ project?”

Hazel nodded at Josie’s question. She had just left Mr. G’s class with PJ and Josie where he had introduced a new project to create a diorama based on a famous woman who was murdered. The partners were chosen by random, and to Hazel’s horror, she was paired up with you.

Who just happened to be Hazel’s crush for 4. fucking. years.

Hazel had many moments of crises in her 18 years of life, which included getting bitten by a radioactive spider during sophomore year at a school field trip to the science fair, getting caught by Josie and PJ’s spider-trap (Where PJ wanted to catch Spider-Woman for her youtube channel with a net, and she actually managed to?) and Hazel had to reveal her secret identity, and her mother’s recent divorce with her minor-fucking, emotionally unavailable father.

But none of them made Hazel as frantic as being paired with you for a school project.

“Thats fucking amazing,” PJ said in jealousy. “How come that never happens with me and Brittany? I got paired up with that one emo kid who probably wants to blow up the school.”

Hazel groaned, leaning her head against her locker. She was already tired from last night’s fight with a local bank robbery, which led to her face scratched and bandaged up today. She couldn’t stop thinking about how she was going to impress you.

“Okay, well, you don’t look very happy considering you’re like, obsessed with her,” Josie commented. She was well used to Hazel’s constant remarks about how pretty you looked during class or how you made eye contact with her for 2 seconds.

“I’m fucked. I just get so nervous around her,” Hazel replied, anxiety seeping out from her voice. “I have never really had a conversation with her other than, ‘hello’. If I can’t even talk to her properly, how am I going to do a whole project with her?”

PJ rolled her eyes. “Hazel, why are you so worried? You literally swing down tall ass buildings and beat up tall ass criminals, and you can’t even talk to a girl that you like? Didn’t your spider powers give you like, enhanced everything?”

“I’m pretty sure the whole point of Hazel’s secret identity is for you to not talk about it out in the open, PJ.”

“I’m just saying, if I saved the neighborhood every night wearing a red and blue spandex lady gaga suit, I’d be getting so much puss right now.”

The two continued to bicker as Hazel sighed. PJ was right. It was just a project. It wasn’t a big deal, it was only for a week, and she was certain you were straight anyways. All she had to do was just man up and talk to—

“Hazel?”

Hazel jumped, turning around from her locker to see you standing with an alluring smile on your face. You wanted to talk to your project partner before the start of next class, who seemed to be very stunned at the sight of you. She looked like a puppy, with her widened blue eyes and her tousled brown hair.

Hazel blinked rapidly and clutched her notebook, barely managing to reply with a small, “Hi.”

“I don’t know if you remember me. I’m (Y/N),” You introduced yourself, starting to offer your hand but retracting immediately because you realized that you’re a high schooler and that it’s probably lame to shake hands in this day and age. “I’m partnered up with you for Mr. G’s class—”

“-Yeah, I know who you are. (Y/N),” Hazel said, almost too quickly, causing her friends to hold in their laughter. “Mr. G’s project. Yeah– I can work on it. All of it, if you want.”

“No, of course not, we can work on it together,” You laughed, before recognizing all the injuries on Hazel’s face. “By the way, you’re pretty bruised up. Are you okay?”

Hazel instantly touched her bandages, feeling a bit embarrassed at her state.

“’m fine. I just fell.”

You frowned, staring intensely at Hazel’s face. “I don’t think you can get these cuts from falling.”

“Well, some of them are from falling and some of them aren’t...” Hazel trailed off as you came closer, your face filled with genuine worry. You knew Hazel wasn't exactly popular, but you didn’t know she was bullied. Hazel slowly backed away, her heart beating out of her chest as her back made contact with her locker.

Hazel's Face started to burn up, turning to Josie for help. Josie stuttered, “This is nothing, she just– she’s part of this— this club, and—”

“A club? What kind of club fucks up her face like this?” You interrupted, your hands reaching out and brushing Hazel’s bangs out of the way, carefully examining the bandages. “Is it like a fight club?”

“Yes!”

“No–”

“-More like a women’s self defense club?”

You looked at the three girls who’ve provided different answers all at the same time.

PJ spoke up first.

“Yes, we absolutely do have this club where girls fucking beat each other up and shit for… feminism. So that we can teach girls how to protect themselves from the evil male football players.”

“You know how to fight?” You asked, staring at PJ who barely had any muscles.

“Yes. Because, We… went… to… juvie over the summer.”

You blinked.

“...There’s also a serious lack of female solidarity in this school,” Hazel stiffly added.

“Right. Okay, that’s fine, I guess,” You accepted. “Could I join?”

“Yes. Absolutely!” PJ exclaimed, her face lighting up immediately. “You could bring your friends too. You know. Specifically your cheerleader friends. Specifically Brittany and Isabel.”

Before you could question why specifically Brittany and Isabel, the bell rang to inform the students for the start of next class.

“Okay, here—” You took the notebook Hazel was holding and quickly scribbled your number on one of the pages. “Message me so we can talk about the project. And the club. Is that okay?”

You handed the notebook back as Hazel nodded, in denial that you just gave her your fucking phone number. You waved before running off to your next class, feeling happy that you had made a new friend. (haha friend…)

Meanwhile, Josie was losing her mind.

“PJ, what the fuck are you doing?”

“This is absolutely perfect!”

“No, it’s not, PJ— we don’t have a feminist women’s self-defense fight club. You also don’t care about feminism. Your favorite movie is Entourage.”

“Okay, first of all, shut up, and second, we can just make the club now, obviously. Come on– I just created the perfect opportunity for all of us to talk to Brittany, Isabel, and (Y/N)!”

“Hazel, please tell PJ that she’s insane,” Josie turned to Hazel.

Hazel grinned and said;

“She gave me her number.”

Josie groaned. “Congratulations! But we have a bigger problem now. We don’t know how to defend ourselves!”

“Self-defense is common sense. You try to punch me in the face. I stop it from happening. Whatever, I don’t care, it’s easy,” PJ shrugged, holding a MMA fighter stance and started throwing air punches.

“Yeah, maybe for Hazel, who literally has the… spider tingles? Hazel tingles?”

“Please do not start calling it Hazel tingles.”

“And let’s not forget, you literally have superhuman strength,” Josie cautioned. “If we do this— very big if, we just run the biggest risk of exposing you and your spider identity. One wrong punch and you’ll send a girl to the hospital.”

PJ turned to Hazel and grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Hazel, listen to me. We teach a bunch of girls how to defend themselves against the evil high school fuckboys. They are grateful to us. Adrenaline is flowing— next thing you know, Isabel, Brittany, and (Y/N) are kissing us on the mouths!”

Hazel paused. “I don’t know. Like Josie said, it’s a huge risk. The last thing I’d want to do is put (Y/N) in danger.”

A sardonic smile played on PJ’s lips. She tapped on Hazel’s notebook.

“Hazel, she gave you her number.”

Hazel stood, her mind racing once again. PJ’s idea of starting a self-defense club was dangerous, she knew that. She would be gaining attention all while showing off her fighting skills, which is what she had been hiding for years. Josie’s warning echoed in her mind. But then she remembered the way you had looked at her, with darling concern in your eyes when you asked about her injuries. She hadn’t had anyone worry for her like that in a while.

Hazel took a deep breath.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Josie cried.

“She said okay! It's an okay! We’re doing this!” PJ screamed, grabbing Hazel’s hand and pulling her towards the school’s office to create the club. “We’re going to lose our virginities this year! This is the year!”

“Okay, but who’s going to be crazy enough to even advise this club?” Josie yelled after them, but the two were long gone.

Next Chapter: The Fucking Fight Club

#bottoms movie #hazel callahan #hazel callahan fluff #hazel callahan x reader #josie bottoms #pj bottoms #hazel callahan spiderwoman #hazel callahan x you #bottoms (2023)

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help-i-need-a-cool-username · 11 months

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As you all know i love Justice League Meet The Batfamily au fics. And i was thinking about how i havent yet read one focusing solely on Signal. Heres one idea on how it could go

Im thinking a au where the JL know Batman has Gotham associates to a extent (aka that he has some, no one knows how many, theres "Robin" but Robin is obviously switched out by another person every few years, etc) and maybe they know Nightwing but thats it. The extended batclan are playing assassin. And Duke gets Bruce. Which is majorly daunting. And pretty much a guaranteed failure. Duke is disappointed but decides to give it his all anyways

Now, there are ofc rules. One is you cant get anybody at work or school. However, "work" only applies to day jobs. Night time escapades are fair game. So Duke targets Bruce where he'll feel safest: the Watchtower. Its basically off limits for the kids. Does that break some rules? Yes. But it doesnt break any of the assassin rules and therefore the defeat will still count

Duke has to recruit some help, obviously. Babs is absolutely down for this. She messes with the zeta to not announce him and does some other stuff. Maybe causes a annoying distraction? Maybe helps make it look like there is a intruder onboard and helps Signal pick off members one-by-one like a horror movie? Maybe Duke just sits in a vent for 4 hours? Maybe another batkid shows up and starts a scene so Batman is focused on parenting them while standing surrounded by his colleagues so he wont feel there is a threat?

Either way Duke shoots Bruce with half a canister of yellow paintballs when no one was expecting a attack/a gun fight

Bruce is shocked. He's just looking at his hand where his fingers touched "the wound" aka the paint. Everyone is either stunned in silence or screaming bc Batman is down

And Signal comes out in the open with the paintball gun on his shoulder all smug. And theres commotion before Batman starts laughing. Everyone looks over. And Bruce just wades through the JL before reaching Duke. Congratulates him, Bruce beaming with pride, and Batman hugs him. Commotion once more: "what just happened!?" "Who is this?" "Is Batman hugging?!" I like it when ppl write Bruce as affectionate around his kids so maybe its a excited swaying hug where Bruce is laughing as he pulls Duke to him and drops a kiss on his head. One of his kids managed to get the drop on him! he's ecstatic! This is a milestone moment!

and maybe then whover has Duke as a target shoots him right as everyone calms down

#hinacu dc #justice league find out about the batfam #batfam #duke thomas #bruce wayne #batman #the signal #prompt #dc prompt

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megamindsecretlair · 2 months

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WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tag @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin , im never sure if ppl look forward to whats upcoming from me, but these keep me honest 🤣😭

Step one: Post snippets of the fics you're working on (can be a summary if there's no snippet)

Step two: put them in a poll and let people vote on which one you should work on, then prioritize the one with the most votes.

Step three: Ask me about my WIPs! Don't be shy, I love talking about my fics! We don't create or share in a void, we want to hear from you lovelies!

Well, Mega, what can we look forward to 👀

1) Beauty and the Beast Inspired Stunna: I have severe Yahya Abdul Mateen II brainrot and baby, 🥲 the way I want to write literally everything for him. This will be a precursor to a novella I wanna write with original characters and lots more action, but Id love extra feedback for it. It will have vampires, toxic staff, and naughty bits.

2) Mea Culpa: I have been debating how much time I wanna dedicate to rewriting that monstrosity of a movie 🤭 okay, thats not fair. The idea was there, the execution wasn't because TP wouldnt know what's sexy if it slapped him in his face. Who am I fooling? I won't be satisfied until I write the whole thing and satisfy my brain. So yeah, prepare for a rewrite according to what I would've done. Think corruption kink, think court drama, think Zyair being the toxic mess we know and love.

3) Mob Boss Tyrone: I feel like ive been teasing this for years 🥲😭🤣 and thats because the ask was specifically for a one shot and I plotted out 7 parts 🤭🤣 at this point, yall know how I am. I tried to conform to short fics for my sanity and I just cant 🤷🏽‍♀️ some ideas require one part, some require several. It will include hella angst, hella smut, hella toxcity, but at the end of the day, hes always going to love his baby girl. I also think im going to switch it to Fontaine chuz thats a prettier/grittier name and would suit the story better.

4) A Watchmen fic for Cal (Yahya): lissen, ive finally went back to finish Watchmen. Not because it was a bad show, but because it requires 100% of my focus and I aint had it. But for Yahya? Ill make the time. I feel like that is 100% a soft dom and I just wanna be his cute lil princess, sue me 🤷🏽‍♀️ I love a man I can't tell what to do 🤣

Theres more but for the sake of brevity, Ill keep it at the 4 most occupying my brain at the moment. Soooo, which one yall want first? And yes 🥲 im aware of how many series I need to update 🥲

No pressure tags: @nerdieforpedro @harmshake @notapradagurl7 @ellethespaceunicorn @miyuhpapayuh

#megaminds updates #megaminds tag game #tag game #tumblr tag game #wip #work in progress #wips #Ask me about my WIPs #poll game #poll #megaminds polls

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devildom-moss · 5 months

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Im so happy the request box is open again /gen

Could i request a fic where MC has an ed (Eating Disorder)?

Im struggling with eating atm and would love to read about the characters (especially Beel) comforting the MC about it

Thats all, have a good day!

Lots of love, anonymous M /ref

Anon, I'm so sorry that you're struggling. Please do your best to practice harm reduction in regards to your specific eating disorder. I hope that you are able to get the help you require.

I also hope that this fic will be a comfort to you. I tried to keep the specifics of the eating disorder vague since there are so many types and I didn't know which you had. There are some mentions of binging and restricting, so I hope that is okay. The format of this was kind of experimental, so I hope it came out okay.

I love you. Take care (to the best of your ability).

MC with an eating disorder

(SFW) (unspecified eating disorder with mentions of restriction and binging) (could be read as platonic) (all characters) (half fic/half headcanons?)

Word Count: +3,900

You couldn’t hide this forever. They were bound to figure it out eventually. The unfortunate thing about being a person is that no matter how careful you were – how hard you tried – secrecy, subtlety, and perfectionism were not without clumsiness. Even if you wanted to hide this from them forever, you were going to slip up – do something suspicious. Most sicknesses have symptoms, and someone will find them.

Or maybe you had a moment of pure courage and decided to tell them: you needed help. Maybe you understood – even if it felt like a lapse in judgment – that the best outcome for your health and happiness would not be achieved alone. You needed someone – some understanding source of love and support.

The truth leaked out to everyone eventually – and eventually seemed to crash into you like the final domino in an elaborate setup. The most knowledgeable and observant of the bunch couldn’t keep quiet for long. It’s hard to bite your tongue when someone you love is suffering.

You were hardly prepared for the talk they all felt was necessary. Barbatos called for a meeting with you “to discuss a personal matter of utmost importance.” To be fair, they all made the decision not to overwhelm you by not allowing everyone to take part in the meeting.

When you arrived at the castle for the meeting (mostly to prevent nosy eavesdropping), Barbatos escorted you into a room with Simeon, Solomon, Lucifer, and – surprisingly – Mammon. Initially, Lucifer had no intention of allowing Mammon into the meeting, but “being MC’s first” and the fact that he had been the one to alert Lucifer to your struggle held enough sway to expand the meeting size to six.

On your long walk back home, during which you were escorted by Lucifer and Mammon in a miserable, awkward silence that Mammon made multiple attempts to alleviate, you couldn’t stop clinging to their words during that meeting.

You couldn’t remember who spoke first – who had the guts to interrupt such a solemn, all-knowing silence. Lucifer or Barbatos? No. They planned this, so maybe they pushed the softest approach on you – forced a tender heart to confirm that the time had come to talk about your eating (or lack thereof). In that case, it was probably Simeon. Your memory was already so hazy. Maybe you shut down and dissociated. Maybe you would remember if your body wasn’t going through hell. Then again, if it wasn’t, maybe you wouldn’t have had to have that conversation.

– Got bad enough for them to notice, I guess? That was a shitty thought to have. The sooner it gets addressed, the better. No one should have to get “bad enough.” You knew that. –

In truth, they had planned ahead, and Simeon was supposed to ease you into the conversation. Mammon couldn’t let him, though. “Ya know, I don’t care how strong ya get. I still think it’s my job to protect ya. You’re sick right now. All tha signs are there. Ya keep hurtin’ yourself doin’ shit like this. I’m doin’ an awful job keepin’ ya safe, so we’re gonna get ya some help. And we’re gonna be right there with ya the whole time. I’m gonna be there – whatever ya need.”

Simeon was relieved that Mammon spoke first – even if it wasn’t the perfect, delicate approach. Simeon had been something he hadn’t been for a very long time: afraid. They all were to some extent – if not afraid, then nervous. However, with Mammon’s interruption, the structured plan crumbled, and they all spoke in cautious yet clumsy intervals. It seemed suitable, then, that the rest of the meeting only existed in messily cut up pieces that you shoved together. Your brain was the young, sickly protégé of Victor Frankenstein and your recall-creature arose as a bloody, poorly constructed monster. There was no chasing this monster off. It clung to your waist and shadowed your every step. It was a sad, hurtful little creature, but there was love in every bone and mass of flesh.

Lucifer had promised to assist with doctors’ orders, keep an eye on your condition, and accommodate you while ensuring his brothers fell in line. What you remembered was the scent of Demonus that lingered on him when he pulled you against him and told you, “Whatever will ease the burden during the hardest parts of your recovery, you’ll have it.” He had had a drink or two to settle his nerves before you arrived.

Barbatos had promised to get you good human doctors – medical and psychological – who specialized in your particular condition. What you remembered was the unfamiliar look of sorrow on Barbatos’s face as he held your hand and promised, “We will prioritize your comfort – no matter how many doctors you have to go through. You’ll get the treatment you need.”

Solomon had offered his magical skills to assist with your commitment to recovery and to ease any pain or side effects that your eating disorder had and would cause. You remembered him gently holding your face and telling you, “I’d never let anyone hurt my adorable apprentice – and that includes you.”

Simeon had offered you a constant and understanding ear to listen. He was the best alternative when you wouldn’t or couldn’t turn to a professional. Simeon had even promised to help Luke and Raphael navigate your recovery as best as he could. You remembered the grave concern on his face – almost frightening – as he told you, “We love you, and you’re hurting. Please let us help you however we can.”

They hadn’t pressured you to explain everything you were doing or understand all of it on your own. They hadn’t even forced you to respond right away. Everything else they had said – and anything you had said – seeped out your ears until you were left with the sound of your own voice giving them one ashamed and heartfelt “okay.”

The conversation probably hadn’t even happened in that order, but it was a hard one to have, and you couldn’t be faulted for jumbling it up.

“Here, take it.” Mammon interrupted the cacophony in your mind by throwing his jacket over your head and gently petting you through the fabric.

You felt something wet running down your cheek. It must have started to rain while you were thinking. No, wait, am I crying? When did that happen? It wasn’t a lot, but a few stray tears escaped you. You tried to blink them away, but now that you had a way to hide, they flowed easier. “Thanks, Mammon.”

You were scared that you would never like yourself no matter what happened, but they loved you, and that was a start.

When you returned to the House of Lamentation, you hid yourself away in the attic where you could cry alone without the protection of Mammon’s jacket. It was getting hot under there, anyway. Despite their attempts, you still felt overwhelmed by the confrontation, and you just wanted to hide from everyone – well, maybe not everyone.

It was a comfort when you heard a soft knock at the door and saw that fluffy orange hair peeking in. “MC, can I come in?”

He found you, and something about that melted your heart, even though you thought you wanted to be alone. You wiped any stray tears from your eyes and cleared your throat. “Yeah, you can come in, Beel.”

Surprisingly, when he sat down next to you on the bed, his lashes stuck to his skin like he had been crying, too. There was a long silence, during which he just stared at you. Sometimes, you liked it when he looked at you. You’d see all the affection on his face and recognize the love behind it. Other times, it made your skin crawl as insecurity squirmed around through your veins like a parasite. You saw everything you deemed wrong with yourself, and there was no way to hide it. This time, it felt different – some slow-cooked stew of guilt and sorrow. You imagined an inflated, tainted feeling of pity in that look where it was absent. In reality, “pity” from Beel used that word in its purest, sweetest form; there was no negativity or disregard – only sympathy and compassion.

Beel leaned down and bonked his forehead against your shoulder, leaving it there. His breath was slow and even, finding comfort in the physical touch, as he built up the courage to speak.

“Do I make your eating disorder worse? I’m always eating and talking about food.”

“No . . . well yes – but no.” Beel pulled back to look at you, doing everything he could to not look hurt and sorry. You felt the cracks in the dam begin to burst. Either you patch them up now, or you lift the gates and relieve some of the pressure. You chose the latter. “You made it easier to hide it. I could give you my food whenever I was restricting, and you were so happy to be fed that you never worried about me being hungry. Then, I got to watch you eat. It was cathartic – watching you do something I couldn’t do. You made it easy to cover up a binge, too. No matter how out of control I felt, I couldn’t make a dent in the amount of food you ate. That kind of made me feel better, but it enabled me. The extra food I ate, the snack boxes and wrappers, the disappearing food – everyone assumed it was all you most of the time. It saved me a lot of embarrassment, I guess, but it didn’t take away the shame. And to be honest, I’m kind of jealous of you. You’re out of control when you eat sometimes, and then you have all the control in the world to work out. But you look amazing, and you seem happy. I can see my impulses in you, and I think, if it was just a little different – maybe if I was better and more disciplined, I’d be more like you and less like me. I know that isn’t how it works; it’s just how I see things.”

You hadn’t expected all of that to come rushing out. Then again, neither did Beel, but he sat there firm and strong through it all. For a brief moment, a cruel and twisted feeling popped into your mind. What is he doing? Is he one of those idiots who stands in the path of a tropical storm because they think they can take it? He’s going to get hurt. Just move out of the way. You knew better than that train of thought. Beel would make himself an immovable structure through all of this if you’d let him. Hell, he’d make the effort even if you didn’t.

You cast your eyes down to the bedspread and the way Beel laid his hands down on it in front of him, with one cradled in the other while he ran his thumb along the side of his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Beel interrupted. “It’s a lot to process, but thank you for telling me.”

Beel let out a calm, steady breath before standing up. He offered you his hand with a rueful smile.

“What is it?” you asked with your brow furrowed in confusion.

“Do you want to dance for a bit? I know we don’t have music, but I think better when I move.” Beel was embarrassed by the admission – but more embarrassed by the strangeness of his request. He added, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“We can dance.” You took his hand and let him make the clumsy attempt to lead. He wasn’t close enough nor graceful, but he was trying.

“I’m not very good at this, but I want you to get better. I hope you don’t mind learning together.” He had never had to help someone recover. You had to learn how to get better, and he had to learn how to support that.

“I don’t mind.”

“Even if I mess it up?” Even if he said the wrong thing or accidentally triggered you? Even if he couldn’t protect you every time? Even if you found a new place to hide and he didn’t come find you right away?

“You don’t have to be perfect.”

“Neither do you.” Beel had sharpened his words for that one, and all you could do was give him an apologetic chuckle. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t –”

“– I could, and that scares me. I love you so much. I will still love you during recovery. I’ll love you through relapses. I’ll love you when – and if – you fully recover. There’s nothing wrong with your willpower or your body. You’re sick and hurt. We’ll be okay.” Beel had added the last part for his own comfort before he pulled you closer. He stopped trying to dance and just held you against him, as if to remind you that he was there.

With the professional help came the personal support.

Lucifer keeps track of you and your meds. He checks in with you and your doctor and ensures you take your medication in a timely manner. He removes scales from the house or keeps them safely hidden from you. He keeps his brothers up to date on your recovery plan (with your permission), so that you don’t have to deal with it. He gently pushes you along when he catches you staring in a mirror unfavorably.

Mammon magically removes all the nutrition information – barring ingredients and allergy information – from groceries and snacks whenever someone does the shopping. He also walks you to all your medical and psychological doctor’s appointments. More importantly, he keeps you distracted when you feel bad – movies, games, dancing in clubs, you name it. However, he won’t take you gambling with him anymore, horrified that you might jump from one maladaptive behavior to another.

Leviathan, whose entire existence is antithetical to normie values, musters up the courage to remind you that he thinks you look amazing and that you don’t have to worry about what normies think. He is almost always there to play games with you or read manga or watch anime – especially when binge urges come. He’s happy to spend time with you, so don’t be ashamed of the reason you need a distraction. He makes and buys cosplay outfits for you and spends half an hour hyping you up so that you feel confident – even if you never end up wearing it outside.

Satan helps monitor your nutrition and plans meals that will help you avoid malnutrition. He works especially hard on this during the first few months of recovery and after relapses when it’s the most critical. He reads up on eating disorder treatments and studies anecdotal success stories so that he can help equip you with more tools to ensure your full recovery. He also offers distractions when you need them. Sometimes, he even reads to you.

Asmo compliments you endlessly – almost daily if you let him. He finds cute clothes for you that fit you in ways that make you feel comfortable and look amazing. He does your makeup and hair if you want it – anything to make you feel better about yourself. He’ll take pictures of you if you let him. Hell, he’ll arrange a full boudoir photoshoot for you if it boosts your confidence. Asmo has always been able to find beauty in anyone, so he tries to lean into body positivity and prove to you that there is beauty in every body because being alive is majestic all on its own. It’s equally important what Asmo doesn’t do, though. He stops body checking and talking about diets around you. He diets less, and when he does, he keeps the details of it away from you. This isn’t exactly supportive, but he will offer to praise you in bed and make you feel so gorgeous and so good that your mind has no room for self-doubt.

Beelzebub eats meals and snacks with you – especially when you are having trouble eating. He’s great to have around when you want to try eating something or multiple things off a menu, but you’re worried about feeling the need to keep eating after you’re full. He’s always happy to eat the leftovers. He constantly tells you how happy he feels when he sees you enjoying food with him. He also exercises with you – taking special care to ensure that you aren’t pushing yourself too far. He just wants you to get the movement that supports your health. He probably also teaches you something like boxing to help you release anger and anxiety during your recovery. Additionally, it’s hard for anyone to make you feel weird or bad about your exercise levels when Beel is around to level them if they so much as look at you the wrong way. Alternatively, he also accommodates you by helping you exercise in private (a home gym or body weight exercises; if your mind is in the gutter, that’s fine too).

Belphie walks you home from all your appointments. Mammon could do it, and it’s a lot of effort for him to walk you home, especially when he wasn’t already out and about, but he wants to show you that you are worth the effort. He threatened to curse and beat up Mammon if he didn’t let him walk you home. He likes the idea of you knowing that after a check-up or a draining therapy session, you can expect to see him waiting outside for you. He’s never late, either. He watches the stars with you and reminds you that you are beautiful to him but in the vastness of the universe, your body, your weight, your sense of control – none of it matters as much as you think it does. He is also an anarchist, and that especially includes diet culture. “Fuck society. I just want you to be alive and to take naps with me.” Also, he thinks your body is incredibly comfortable to nap on, but he tries not to actually say that.

Diavolo employs the best doctors he can find for you – with help from Barbatos. He adores complimenting you, so you can expect him to continue reminding you how amazing you are – both mentally and physically. He doesn’t have as much time to spend supporting you, but if he can provide you with any services, he’ll do it. His favorite thing to do is to take you shopping and buy clothes and accessories for you. If you like it and wearing it makes you feel better, he’ll get it for you. It’s a good distraction, and seeing you smiling in outfits that he got for you warms his heart. When he does have spare time, he’ll try to spend it with you so he can check in and see how you’re doing – but also so he can just be around you.

Barbatos offers to make lunch for you sometimes. Once he gets your permission, he makes adorable and appetizing dishes so that when you see them, you’re actually happy to eat them (usually. Some days will just be bad, and there’s nothing more he can do). He listens to you without judgment. He’ll pour you a cup of tea, offer you something to eat, and let you pour your heart out. He also sews outfits specifically for you, using it as an excuse to both provide personal attention and to tell you how incredible and breathtaking you look.

Luke has a surprisingly good grasp on the situation thanks to Simeon, Solomon, and his own reading. He offers to accompany you to the store when you have to buy groceries. He also does activities with you that don’t involve food – mostly games, puzzles, and going on walks. However, if you’re okay with it, he brings you into the kitchen to cook and bake with him (and sometimes with Barbatos, Simeon, and/or Beel). Maybe it’s because he’s younger, but unlike Simeon or Barbatos, Luke has more courage to invite you into a potentially stressful situation for your eating disorder in an attempt to help you establish a healthy relationship with food and cooking.

Simeon is always there to listen – especially once he figures out how to make a proper video call. He also provides you with plenty of distractions. As the author of the bunch, he’s obligated to encourage you to write or journal to help process your recovery (and just for fun). Consequently, you have a lot of chill writing dates. Sometimes that means relaxing in Simeon’s room with him while you both quietly write your own things. Other times, he invites you out to pretty or interesting locations. When you go out, he does everything he can to ensure your comfort. You’re free to bail whenever you feel the need to.

Solomon, like Satan, does extensive research on eating disorders. He’ll go so far as to interrogate other sorcerers about any magic they might know that will help your chances of a full recovery. If a solution exists, he’ll find it. If it doesn’t, he’ll try whatever options he has to improve your chances of living a long, happy life. However, his studying usually happens behind your back. One of the most important things Solomon does is treat you like normal. It can be a comfort. Unfortunately, on the occasion that Solomon offers you food he’s made, when you refuse, he gets worried about your eating disorder. My guy, it’s not the eating disorder; it’s your atrocious cooking.

Thirteen monitors your candle closely, looking for faster or slower burning rates to gauge your health on her own. If something seems off, she knows it’s time to speak up. She brings you adorable and delicious food and drinks – with your permission – and eats with you so that you can try to enjoy food. If you have concerns about drinks and liquid calories, she will try to help you ease that by offering you sips of her drinks and reminding you that it’s okay. If you like the drink, she’ll happily let you have the rest of it. She will also invite you out to eat and, like Beel, she’ll eat whatever you won’t finish. Outside of food, she distracts you by letting you in on her trap building process and bringing you along to test them out. Your laugh when one of her traps successfully ensnares someone is precious to her. She is another good confidant when you need someone to talk to.

Raphael uses his magic to heal you whenever you’re in pain (if eating hurts your stomach, heartburn, if your body is sore from exercise, etc.). He puts blessings on you – sometimes without your knowledge – to help you feel better mentally, too. Like Barbatos, Raphael sews new outfits for you, but he mostly focuses on trying to tailor your existing clothes to accommodate how your body might change during recovery. Some clothes can be irreplaceable, and he wants you to still be able to wear them no matter how you change.

Mephisto is probably the last person to find out, which annoys him. To compensate for being last, he writes up and prints an entire report, highlighting your positive, admirable traits. It’s practically a love letter. However, this one isn’t for the paper, so don’t worry about being perceived by others. In fact, he’d be embarrassed if anyone else found out about it. He just wants you to have a reminder of how amazing you are whenever you begin to doubt yourself. He’ll be more lenient about you hanging out in the newspaper room whenever you want. Although he won’t admit it, Mephisto asked Satan for a list of safe foods and drinks he can keep around that you’ll eat, and now there’s always safe food in the newspaper room.

A/N: This one was kind of heavy, so I'll try to pick a more lighthearted request next time. Also, just as a reminder, you can still provide input for what to do to celebrate the 1 year anniversary next month. Check the post "Input request" for more info (under the tag #moss update)

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the-s1lly-corner · 10 months

Note

Hello how are you :3? I was wondering if you could write E.J., Hoodie, and Masky with a s/o that has a lot of scars? (Toby too but platonic for him) I’m not sure how many people we can request so if it’s too many just Hoodie? I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable and thank you!

Various!Creepypastas w/ a scarred!reader

waaaah im so sorry for not seeing this sooner! i didnt recieve a notification for this ask!! really theres no limit to how many characters you can send in! i think my personal max varies from prompt to prompt!! mix of how they approach the concept of a scarred lover (friend in tobys case) with some hints of fluff! cause of scars will be vague as admittedly i didnt know if you meant general scars or SH! side note i hope this posts right! im writing this on my computer, im used to mobile!! + apologies for any weird wording or typos, im listening to music and im getting hyped!! not proof read we die like my spiderverse brainrot

Includes: Eyeless Jack, Hoodie, Masky and Platonic!Toby!

CWs: touch and go talk of potential past trauma, body image issues, vague mentions of SH(?) in EJs part + Toby's parts

admittedly admin doesnt know if its technically SH due to the nature and motiv but personally id still count it as such and tag it as such

Eyeless Jack;

he gets it, he really does. the basic run down of my hc/take on ej is that he wasnt always some flesh eating monster; just some dude who got caught up in some bad stuff

so naturally, he doesnt... really vibe well with the concept of eating human flesh, which can lead to a few... instances. from intentionally to accidentally harming himself while hes lost in his instincts

so hes no stranger to being a little roughed up around the edges

but hes a stranger to comforting; he'll likely approach it from a logical side before trying anything else. "you've been hurt," before going on a small tangent about the formation of scars. hes not the most... emotionally... good... available... person

so youre going to need to lay out the general basis for what you need for basic comfort, on days where your scars become an issue; be is needing comfort or a distraction. it may take him a while, but hell eventually start to pick up on cues and hints as your relationship develops

otherwise hes very neutral about them, again approaching them with a blunt view; seeing it as neither good nor bad. he doesnt draw attention to them, but he doesnt act like theyre gross

really just. vibing with it, doesnt make a huge deal of it since he feels he doesnt have any place to judge, nor does he feel its his business to pry for information

solid 6/10 imo, hell comfort you if you express that you need it but hell likely not go out of his way to do it

Hoodie;

Soft touches, he almost does it before he has your permission to touch you

naturally he has his own fair share of scars from various.. activities

really im still all jumbled up with how i wanna write him and masky; not sure if i want to make them like how they are in their MH source or lean into the proxy thing that was prominent in the early days of the fandom... lowkey leaning into the proxy thing for this post because im more... versed..? in that, but anyhow

hes more upfront and compassionate than eyeless jack, in fact hes probably the most caring out of the four in todays post... maybe thats because i read one (1) fic years back that changed my entire approach to his character but! yeah

subconsciously trails his hands on them when the two of you are holding one another; something gentle and intimate, not too obnoxious to make you self conscious, but not careful enough to go unnoticed

i view hoodie, and by extension brian if i end up considering him and tim fully seperate from their 'proxy' parts, as a very tactile person

true to the popular fanon interpretation, hoodie doesnt speak much. but that only makes him a better listener, so on days where things get hard, hell let you talk his ears off with anything thats bothering you. very rarely, hell speak up and offer some words of advice, most times hell inch closer to grasp you. though it does get awkward since most the time hes just. blankly staring at you silently without emoting or saying a word

overall? personally hes a 7/10 for me, i would rank him higher if he were more verbal, but thats just because admin has an easier time venting if its a two way convo; but overall hell make sure that your scars dont effect your worth

Masky;

very similarly to hoodie, masky also has his own set of scars for the same reasons

he probably starts pointing out his own scars to you and mumbles about where they came from if he knows their origins

this doesnt mean "oh hes invalidating your experiences and hes trying to make it about himself," but more so "hes showing that he really does get it and he doesnt mean to talk over you"

much like EJ he approaches scars with a very blunt and upfront mindset, but to a lesser extent. he admits that whatever led up to the tissue forming, it hurt. emotionally and physically, and hes not going to deny that simple fact. hell listen to you, have a conversation with you about it, and try to help you through whatever you may be currently going through regardless of if youre injury is relevant.

or at least, thats what hes trying to do.

hes still has his own personal issues regarding going about his own problems in a healthy manner but hey thats something for another post; maybe, if i remember

honestly this post doesnt have enough fluff imo, and i can kinda see masky doing this, but imagine he boops his mask against your scars in a mockery of a kiss (doesnt take off his mask often, in fact youll probably never ever see him without it on), i can see jack doing this too tbh

thoughts? 8/10, gets the bonus points for being less awkward to rant to imo, plus i think asides ej, i think i have a bias for masky for the simple fact i had the fattest crush on him when i was in middle school

Toby;

okay! this one is going to be interesting for one main reason! i actually havent touched tobys character in YEARS! so hes probably going to have the shorter list... obligatory i havent built any solid hcs for him past what was going on in the fandom in the 2010s, before toby briefly became a mild discomfort... but we're back in business baby!! (^^ dont feel bad for requesting for toby btw! hes no longer a discomfort, and if i didnt want to write for him i wouldnt be including him right here!!)

obviously we cant talk about his part without talking about his cheek. and other, similar hcs. while i dont think most of the self inflicted marks on his body were from a place of.. for lack of better words, darkness; it doesnt change the fact he still has them. i think a lot of them are from the fact he cant feel anything; accidental burns, gnawing through his cheek, digging his fingers deep into himself. really i could go into detail, but due to the aforementioned fact that my take on him isnt as developed as other characters + i really dont think its appropriate for this post (or really, anywhere on this account,), ill stop there

while he cant relate to the physical pain of what caused your scars, he can sympathize through your feelings. do you feel sorrow, or anger to whoever hurt you? hell be getting worked up right with you, because to him youre one of his closest friends

i feel like he doesnt talk much about his past, regarding his family. but hed tell you, and you can sure as hell bet that hell do his absolute damndest to grant you the same feeling of security.

hell probably touch and prod without truly meaning any harm, but thats because he can have problems with boundaries, but hell listen if you sit him down and tell him it makes you uncomfortable if it does

more so emotional than outwardly... supportive? idk the words, but hes very empathetic with you and tries to relate to you through emotion rather than feeling what you felt. honestly? kinda based for that, but maybe thats because i dont see feelings about this topic being touched on, usually its straight up about how the scar makes the person look or the physical trauma they had gone through, but idk, maybe thats just a me thing

he can be an asshole at times but hell usually backtrack and cool off somewhere else if you call him out on it imo

not sure if its because as im LITERALLY investigating his characteristics and interpretations as we speak, but i think im starting to relate to him so ER-OH!

anyways, i wish i could make his segment more... in tune with the characters above but its probably going to take me a while until im comfortable with how i portray this dude, which sucks because as a kid he was probably one of my favorites

i dont think im going to give toby a rating like the others; since i dont think i can accurate rate him due to the lack of proper concrete ideas outside of him being empathetic to your emotional pain since he cant relate on how much it hurt

im gonna end this here since im starting to sound like a broken record on tobys part so!

i hope you enjoyed this! characterization may be a little off but i blame that mostly on the fact that i kinda fell out of the loop in regards for writing for these guys (that damn spider movie! the brainrot threw me off my creepypasta grind!/j) but its good to be back writing for this fandom! it was a fun little brain exercise trying to figure out each character goes about this kind of thing without making them all the same!! with that being said, im going to go listen to an audio reading of tobys story so i can regrounded in his character and hopefully do him some justice in the future!

#creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #eyeless jack x reader #hoodie x reader #masky x reader #ticci toby x reader #eyeless jack x you #hoodie x you #masky x you #ticci toby x you

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sebastianstanisahotmf · 5 months

Text

a perfect winters day

Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N This is a part of my 100 followers celebration. At this point I'm gonna stop apologising because my shitty time management issues and son make it hard for me to adhere to the time frames I have given to myself so I will post the fics when I have time to. (I love my son millions so I'm not blaming him for me posting so late but I'm just saying that I like to spend time with him which means it's hard to find time to write) I hope you understand. Also, likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated.

THIS IS NOT AN 18+ FIC BUT I STILL FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE WITH MINORS READING MY FICS SO PLEASE DNI IF YOU ARE A MINOR.

Summary You and Bucky have the perfect day in as it snows outside.

DO NOT REPOST ON ANY OTHER APPS/WEBSITES. THE ONLY PLACE THIS FIC IS ON IS TUMBLR.

Warnings Fluff, allusions to smut

“Wake up doll,” Bucky whispered into your ear, “It snowed last night.”

“Mm?” you slightly opened your eyes.

“It snowed doll!”

You sat up as soon as the words registered in your head,”Really!?”

“Yeah doll, look,” Bucky wrapped your blanket around you and picked you up.

He walked over to the window in your bedroom and you gasped when you looked outside. Everywhere was covered in a sheet of pure white. The snow untouched, unbothered by anyone. The streets were empty, not a soul out there. It was like a winter wonderland especially since everything was so still it didn’t look real.

“It’s so beautiful,” you gushed.

“Not as beautiful as you doll,” Bucky added, winking at you.

“You’re so romantic it’s almost disgusting,” you told him with a smile on your face.

“But you love it doll,” Bucky leaned in to kiss you.

It was such a perfect moment, kissing the person you love the most while the world outside stood still, a beautiful landscape, the type you see in the movies and read in books.

Bucky pulled back from the kiss with slightly swollen lips and a massive grin on his face, “I think we should make some hot chocolate and waffles.”

“I think thats a good idea babe.”

Bucky took the blanket off you and then took you into the bathroom. He put you down so you could brush your teeth while he did the same.

Once you had done that, you walked into the kitchen to get started on the waffle batter as Bucky was making the hot chocolates.

The way you both moved around the kitchen so gracefully and in sync made the scene seem rehearsed. The truth was that you and Bucky regularly made it a team effort to make breakfast so that neither of you feel like you have too many responsibilities. That’s how everything worked with you and Bucky; you both shared the workload in your shared apartment which not only made it easier, but allowed you both to feel equal.

This may not have worked for other people but it worked for you and Bucky which is all that mattered.

After the waffles and hot chocolates were made, you sat next to eachother at the dining table in your kitchen. Bucly had put every imaginable topping for waffles and hot chocolates on the table.

“What do you want to do today?” Bucky asked, as he shoved an almost too big piece of waffle - loaded with every topping possible- in his mouth.

You rolled your eyes and finished chewing the food you had in your mouth before responding, “I just want to stay in today, you know I like looking at the snow but going out in it is a different story.”

“I’m very aware doll, especially after our trip to Canada a few months ago,” Bucky chuckled at the memory of you slipping over.

“You’re so sadistic Barnes,” you retorted.

“You didn’t moan about it last night, well you did, but not in that way,” Bucky smirked.

You picked up a strawberry and threw it at him.

“Hey, that’s not fair, I’m only telling the truth, Santa doesn’t come if you lie.”

“And you’re not gonna cum tonight if you keep teasin’ me,” you retaliated.

“Is that a promise?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

You knew that Bucky would always be in charge in the bedroom, but it was fun to joke around.

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

A few hours later, you and Bucky were cuddled up on the couch. He was laying with his head on your chest and the rest of his body was ontop of yours, acting like a weighted blanket. There was an actual blanket over the two of you and Home Alone was on the tv.

This was the first christmas you and Bucky were spending together so you decided to introduce him to some of your favourite films especially since he was a few years behind on films.

Bucky let out a laugh which was a rare occurrence. You kissed him on the head and wrapped your arms around him tighter.

“I love you so much baby,” you whispered.

“I love you too doll,” Bucky replied, pressing a kiss to your chest.

This was perfect, you and Bucky cuddled up on the couch, watching a Christmas film and occasionally looking at the world outside.

If you want to see be tagged whenever I post a fic then click on the link.

If you want to see what I repost my other account is @sebastianstanisahotmf-reblogs

Taglist:@nicoline1998enilocin, @buckys-wintersoldier, @kenzs-world, @cutedisneygrl , @nekoannie-chan, @kandis-mom, @hisredheadedgoddess28, @booscherripop

#100 followers celebration #100 followers event #100 followers #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #x reader #reader insert #any race #gn reader #gn!reader #sebastain stan #sebastian stan fluff #sebastain stan x reader #sebastian stan x reader fluff #marvel #mcu

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

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fic rec friday 13

welcome the the tenth fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

1. i was always yours (even before you knew it) by paladarns

Lance thought Keith was just an asshole. Lance has always thought of Keith as an asshole, all throughout traveling into space in a large mechanical lion, all throughout bonding moments. All throughout becoming closer as teammates and friends.

Even now, with his hands pinned above his head and Keith’s thighs straddling his waist, Lance thinks Keith is an asshole.

Lance had always thought he could see right through people, but now he’s starting to think he has a bad judgement of people.

---------- a fic in which keith is obvious and lance is a bit of a gay nervous wreck

takes place as if season 1 is the only season to exist but its now years later

so many things to love about this fic. so so many. so i am going to list them. a) secret relationship bc i love that shit and eat it up every time, b) ‘takes place as if season 1 is the only season to exist but its now years later’ -- paladarns my love thank you for this truly excellent description of where i write my fics like 80% of the time. c) keith has game, and d) HE WAS ALWAYS KEITHS EVEN BEFORE HE KNEW IT IM SOBBING BEST TROPE BEST TROPE

2. Wake Up, Sleephyhead! by @transbakugou

Keith has never loved someone like he loves Lance. Lance is his sun, his stars, his happiness. Their hands fit together like they were created to do nothing but hold each other, and he fits perfectly inside of Lance's arms. But he can never let anyone find out how much he loves this boy, how wholly and endlessly. Who knows what the Galra would do with that kind of information?

One morning, the lie comes crashing down around them.

Maybe it won't be as bad as they feared.

i love gay whipped klance and truly every single fic that has ever been written based on a vine is truly amazing, this fic is no exception. also secret relationship lol i am a sucker

3. Something Secret by @kingswriting

It was funny at first. Their arguments became more banter than actual disagreements, yet the entire team continued to assume they were at each other’s throats.

And Lance knows they’re not. He is fully aware that every sharp word, every sly smirk, every heavy handed push, and everything in between is anything but malicious.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss the softer side of things.

Or, Lance and Keith are in a secret relationship, but honestly want to omit the 'secret' part.

okay u can always tell what tag im following obsessively at certain times lol. for yall i present yet another secret relationship fic. ahem. this one is cute! banter and flirting and misleading and kisses and GOD its so sweet

4. Things Held Sacred by yarrie

So maybe, just maybe, Pidge was right. Maybe, just maybe, Keith had shot himself in the foot with his first attempt at resolving the blanket-hogging situation, because now Lance seemed to think it was a game and the rules were: steal the blankets, get sex.

To be fair, Keith hadn't exactly been...dissuading him very well.

okay so heres how this works. every fic rec friday so far has been from a specific collection of mine called ‘rereadables’, which was literally started because of this fic. i dont even know what specific part of this fic gets to me so hard, but you know when you read something that makes your stomach go all swoopy? and you can’t stop smiling? thats this fic! i remember i finished it for the first time and then i scrolled right back up to the top and read it again, then again, and again. like i cannot get over this fic. it gives me butterflies every time

5. Communication is key, they say by @ellana17

They already had communication issues before… Or: a malfunction with a healing pod leaves Lance able to speak only Spanish for a few days.

the idea of lance getting stuck in spanish and then almost immediately using that to flirt with keith without him knowing. like. i love that SO much that is quite possibly one of the funniest concepts to exist

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

#secret relationship focused bc i am annoying #fic rec #fic rec friday #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #secret relationship #cuban lance #longpost #queue

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orangelemonsstuff · 11 months

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Okay my last fic made me more inspired so here is my version of my automation au- this au still belongs to @jackplushie and i only take inspiration so the credits for the au belongs to them :>

btw id be referring to the reader/mc as the Scavenger since its kinda fitting title

(I'm going to continue the characters in another post)

The (Main) Characters

MC/Reader: The Scavenger who sells useable parts of robotd and androids for living, but although before they become a scavenger they are a student at the prestigious NRC Tech. Academy, but for some reason they had to drop out (or was forced by the headmaster to drop out) and end up where they are now. (the reason and their backstory is in your hands)

Grim: The Assistant/Companion Catbot. he was found by Sam the Trader and was sold to the scavenger to fix up, although to him the Scavenger is a simpleton henchman that he orders, he cares deeply for them and swore to stay by their side forever (the owner doesn't choose the cat, the cat chooses it's owner. plus who wouldn't you were the one has his weekly supplies of oil and tuna batteries)

Sam: The Trader that the scavenger sells parts to, he gives fair price to whatever the Scavenger had for him and good trinkets to give them, it is still a mystery how he got acquainted with the headmaster of NRC as why he's very familiar with him, but how had he known who the Scavenger is?, after all why would he, a businessman approach a random scavenger who only sells junk unless.... that he knew they studied in the academy of his acquaintance and interested in their abilities

World Building

The world of twisted wonderland had fell into the hands of machines. gadgets, androids, bots, artificial intelligence. you name it

the world is now filled with futuristic machinery that one could clap their hands and a android would do it for them

but as there are many gadgets and robots that populates the city like humans there are tons of dumpsites too. thats where you, my Scavenger makes a living. the Ramshackle Landfill is where most of the city's broken or discard androids and bots are thrown away and their body parts where you mostly get your money from, most of the you have good finds, some has no hope to make you a selling at all which marks them as bad finds, and last... are finds of androids that are still working yet thrown away for some reason (I'll get to them in the next post)

the Scavenger or you lives in a abandoned modernized smart home, not that far from the city of Sages but not too close either. nearby your was a dumpster of robotic parts where you scavenge and farage everyday, although it wasn't as the same anymore when you found yourself using your knowledge from studying in the academy to fix discarded androids. (only for them to be obsessed with you every time of the day, honestly...)

The NRC Tech. Academy is somewhere in the center of the city, it truly is prestige only to accept students that has skills and/or talents to create robotics for the economy and living. most android company CEO'S/Owners studied there, graduated and created bots for the society to use. but the headmaster of that academy tends to have alot of secrets maybe one of it was the reason why you dropped out.

(okay this is pretty much is it bout the basics so ill get to the characters later lol.

actually i do have a plan for the Reader/Scavenger's backstory about them being Crowley's child and being the top mechanic/technician in the academy but having a disagreement together with Crowley was the reason they dropped out but since Crowley is Crowley

he bought his child a home near a dumpsite out the goodness of his heart and keeps an eye on them by using Sam as a watcher

BUT THEN I REALIZED I WAS DICTATING THE READER'S OWN BACKSTORY AND NOT LETTING THEM DECIDE FOR THEMSELVES SO I DIDN'T CONTINUE

i want the reader to enjoy the imagination on their own way too so... the scavenger or your actual backstories belong to you guys lol dont let me dictate it.)

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst scenarios #twst fanfic #twst x reader #twst mc #twst grim #automation au

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apprenticestanheight · 6 months

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my hands been forced with the strahm a-z, i need a fic of him getting pegged !! also like, combined with your headcannon that he isn't particularly loud in bed, the reader trying to pull as many humiliating noises out of him as they possibly can

Moan- Peter Strahm x gn! reader

Hi! First off I am so glad you liked it!! I had such a blast writing that and I think that I'll find putting Strahm in submissive dynamics really fun in the future if how fun this fic is to write is of any reference.

Fic type- smut! Minors, DNI.

Warnings- pegging is the focus of this fic! The fic is written for gn reader and mostly doesn't mention genitals on the readers part except for one mention that indicates the reader is AFAB, which I wrote for conveniences sake as thats the type of reader I know best in this context (source: I'm AFAB), this fic has been edited but it's probably not great--I finished it while awake for more than twelve hours and edited it the same day.

You were straddling Strahm, lips moving against his neck as you worked to unbutton his work shirt so that you could slip it off his shoulders. It had been a long day at work and on the tail end of a particularly difficult week, but Peter had prepped himself the night previous and needed you to fuck him senseless, so that was what you'd intended to do.

Granted--pegging him was something you'd never done before, but he wanted to try it and he'd almost begged you to do so after you'd been trying to make sure it was something he was ready for, so you gave in and kissed him to shut him up, though in retrospect hearing him beg wouldn't have been anything you particularly minded.

Tonight, you have two goals in mind: peg Strahm and fuck him senseless, and pull as many noises you can out of the usually quiet, stoic and monotonous expression and way in which Strahm carries himself.

You get the shirt off, throwing it somewhere to the left of the bed you share, and you can feel Strahm resisting the urge to take control as your hands run along his chest, occasionally paying attention to his nipples by rolling them between your fingers.

"Gonna take care of you tonight," you whisper, biting gently against his shoulder. "Relax, baby. Still wanna be pegged, don't you?"

Strahm moans lowly, a soft confirmation. You grin, switching up the manner of your kisses and touches when you press your tongue directly against his pulse point and pinch his nipples lightly.

In response, Strahm moans, low and illustrious, and you can feel him hardening as you grind slowly against his lap.

One of your hands moves to the small of his back, the sound of your laughter vibrating against his neck before you pull away from it.

"Need to get you like this more often," you tease, tongue running along your lips. "Mm, you're going to love it, knowing you--though, to be fair, with praise I think you'd take to anything, Pete. Even something involving knives."

Strahms response comes as nervous laughter, and you let him pull you into a kiss before you slide off his lap despite the fact that some part of you wants to stay there and grind against him until he's fully hard and a low-moaning mess beneath you.

"Back in a few minutes," you tell him. "Lube yourself up, baby. Gonna get straight to the point."

You put on the strap on and go back into your bedroom, where Strahm waits, laying on his back with his legs spread. He looks good--you savor it for a few minutes before you make your presence known by stepping past the threshold and approaching, grin on your face.

"I'm so excited to fuck you senseless, Peter," you tell him as your push his legs up by his calves, putting yourself squarely between them.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" You ask. "Gonna have to do some prep beforehand, mm? Finger you first."

Strahm nods, enthused. "I really want to," he adds a smile to further reassure you, reaching up to the hand of yours that rests at his knee and giving it a squeeze. "I promise, and the prep is going to be fine--if you're worrying, please don't. I promise to use the safe word if it ever feels too uncomfortable."

You grab the lube from your bedside table, nodding. "All right, Pete. Just wanted to be sure--I know you're really into the idea of it but it's not something we've done before. I'm the dominant one some of the time, but never in a scenario like this one, so I'm a bit nervous. Please bear with me."

Strahm laughs as you lube up your fingers, nodding when you ask if he's ready.

You slide the first finger in slowly, thrusting and hitting his prostate until Strahm is begging you to add another one. In what feels like no time at all, he's stretched and ready to go.

You lube up the strap on and add some lube to his ass to be safe, bending to his level for a second to press a kiss against his lips.

"You ready, Peter?"

Strahm nods eagerly. "Please," he whispers against your lips. "Need you."

You slide the strap on in slowly, loud moan falling from your lips as a low moan falls off of Peters.

"Gonna make you make noises like you never have," you whisper. "You're typically really quiet, Peter. Gonna make you moan in ways that make you ashamed of yourself."

Strahm laughs as you bottom out, your thighs pressing against his.

"You think that's funny? I'm telling the truth," you say. "You're one of the best field agents your unit has, Peter. Let loose--don't be worried about noise levels or about your moans not being manly or whatever the fuck."

Peter nods as you press a kiss to his shoulder, hands finding his hips.

"Tell me when to start moving, Peter," you say. "We're doing this at your pace, baby."

Strahms response comes out as a hum and one of his hands going to your shoulders.

When he gives your shoulder a squeeze and nods, you start moving. You set a slow pace at first, one of your hands finding Strahms nipples while the other moves to his length, fully hard and leaking precum.

The moans that Strahm lets go are soft, low, loud enough for you to hear them but not much else. You keep the pace slow and occasionally brush against his prostate, doing the same with his dick but occasionally moving your thumb over the tip.

Strahm is clearly in the middle of a love-hate relationship with the pace you've set--he's loving being pegged and the way that his legs lock around your hips to keep you where you are tells you as much, but he's resenting how slow, intentional, teasing, and almost gratuitous the pace is.

Though, to be fair, he's a moaning mess even with how slow you've decided to take things. He's loving it, and you're loving it, and that means it'll happen a bit more often--probably on days like that one, where he's had a rough day at work and just needs the stress and anxiety fucked out of him.

You laugh a bit at one point, biting your bottom lip. "Want a bit of a pace change?" You ask, leaning down to run your tongue over one of his nipples.

Doing so elicits a surprised but delightful sound from him--a moan that's a bit louder than usual.

"Please," he whispers. "Go faster. Please, Y/N."

You nod, kissing his jaw before you do as he's asked and speed up the pace a little, doing the same with your ministrations on his cock.

"You're doing so good, baby," you say. "Taking it so good for me, so amazing. You're amazing."

Peter moans, the same volume as the moan from earlier. You have to grin--you've been wanting to see how loud he can get since your relationship started, and all it took was pegging? Seriously?

You squeeze his cock gently, bottoming out before pulling out fully and thrusting back in.

The moan that this elicits from Strahm is so lewd, so seductive and so unholy that it almost makes you fall in love with him all over again. It's quite possibly the loudest you've ever heard from him and you want to hear it again, are replaying it in your mind as you pick up the pace a bit more, running your thumb along his tip.

"So good," Strahm moans, pressing the back of his head against the pillow. "You're--fuck, Y/N. This feels so good. Please keep going. Please, this is amazing."

"Had I known you were going to enjoy it this much, I would've said yes the first time you brought it up," you laugh a little. "So loud for me, baby. This is probably the biggest ego boost I've ever gotten."

You thrust deeply again, brushing against his prostate as you do. You notice that every time you brush against his prostate, Strahms moans get loud.

You set a pace for deep thrusting and nearly come because of A, how good the strap on feels rubbing against your clit and B, Strahms moaning.

Every sound that comes from Strahms beautiful throat is more blasphemous than the last, and you thrive off of it. He's typically very quiet--low moans and grunts and laughter when he watches you squirm while he eats you out after a few days of teasing, but he's never quite been so loud as he is right now--there are two other instances you can think of where he's been particularly loud, and you love it when he loses focus and the ability to care about whether or not the neighbors will have any complaints.

You let yourself focus on his cock for a few minutes, head dipping to his neck as your lips press against it. One of Strahms hands moves to your hair, holding you in place slightly as you thrust the strap into his ass and rub your thumb along the tip of his length.

"So good," he moans, lewd and lustful and just--perfect. "Oh, fuck, this is amazing. Please, Y/N--please don't stop. Need you to keep going."

You nod against his neck, tongue moving along it until you find his pulse. You start the process of leaving a hickey there, laughing against his neck as he moans out in response.

"So close," he whispers. "Fuck."

"Come for me," you respond. "You've been stressed lately, baby. You've earned it."

He moans--low and lustful and thankful, almost.

You quicken the pace just enough for him to come with a shout, and you watch, delighted, as his eyes roll back and his cum spurts out onto his stomach and chest.

You pull out when his legs start shaking with the aftershock, taking the strap on off and pulling the shirt you'd taken off of him earlier over your torso.

You grab a face cloth and wet it, running it over his chest and pressing a kiss to his forehead as his eyes close.

His orgasm was intense, so along with cleaning his chest off you grab him a shirt and a pair of sweatpants. As he gets dressed into that you merely button up the buttons on the shirt you've stolen and call it a day, falling back into bed and grinning as Strahm meets you there.

"Good?" You ask.

"Absolutely amazing," Strahm says. "I did not expect to love it as much as I did."

"I was expecting you to," you admit. "I mean--you genuinely think that sex in an interrogation room is a fun idea. I love you, Peter, and it's because of that that I'm really not surprised. Glad you liked it so much, though."

"You're okay about how loud I was?" Strahm pulls a hand through his hair. You lean over and kiss one of his biceps.

"I loved it," you say. "You're not usually that loud--if pegging brings that out of you I'll do it whenever."

Peter laughs. "You like it when I get noisy?"

"It is a treat unlike anything else," you laugh a little as well.

"I'll be keeping that in mind, then," he says. You close your eyes, hum in response and decide to move so that your face is parallel to his, your leg draped over his hip. He rests a hand against your hipbone and uses it to pull you flush against him, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you breathe him in.

The two of you fall asleep not long thereafter, tangled in one anothers embraces and content.

#peter strahm #peter strahm x reader #saw franchise #sawposting #saw posting

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