#((that is SO MUCH for her to swallow in one go; and while i think; of course; that she will trust dorian and by extension emily))

[daniellesis54]

Neither of us were ready for the size of his cock. He was so long and thick that I couldn't help but feel insecure and want to leave. It had the opposite effect on my wife, and his made sure to point that fact out several times. She made me admit how emasculating it was seeing how my wife responded to his superior cock. She even grabbed my hard dick, told me how pathetic it felt, and made me tell her that it was too little. While wife came over and over on his massive cock telling the entire neighborhood how much bigger and better he was than me his wife stripped me naked. She wanted my inferiority to be on full display before she sat on my face and had me prepare her for her husband's big dick.

After nearly a dozen orgasms my wife was barely conscious when he declared victory over us. I was honestly worried about her as she was barely even moving with each deep stroke. They made me beg him to stop destroying my wife and apologize for having such a small dick that didn't prepare her for his size. I could tell how wet my begging was making his wife and see my wife meek reaction each time he flexed his enormous cock inside of her. I hated how much they both enjoyed destroying us and how helpless I was to do anything. I didn't even stop licking his wife as I begged him to take mercy on mine.

Once he finally finished rearranging my wifes insides and breaking her mind, he brought his monster over to his wife. He pushed my face out of the way before I heard her tell him he needed to clean the slut off his dick before he could fuck her. I quickly learned that since it was my slut wifes cum that I would be the one cleaning his cock off. As I was still pinned under her wife, I was helpless to do anything but close my lips and turn my head away.

That's when he started slapping me with it. As utter humilating as it was, the physical pain was much worse. He was big and heavy and hit me so hard my ears were ringing. Before I could even respond, he hit me three more times, and I opened my mouth without even thinking. One more slap was all it took to make me start licking his big dick and huge balls like a popsicle. I was fanatical about licking every fold and crevice until his big dick was spotless. Despite my enthusiasm and thoroughness, he still beat me with it a few more times before he impaled his wife.

I watched as inches from my face he split her open and made her take the entire length. I couldn't help but imagine how much he must have changed my wife to make her able to take him. As his balls slapped against my face I felt the head of his cock tenting her stomach and pressing into my forehead. He pummeled her while she crushed my head with her thighs orgasm after orgasm. After showing me what he can do to a woman who can actually handle him, I felt his balls tighten, and his iron rod of a cock somehow get even bigger and harder.

I knew how big his balls were. I had licked them and had them slapping my face for the last hour. Still, I had no idea how much cum they contained. His huge cock completely filling his wife caused each blast to spray out of her and all over my face. It wasn't even halfway through, and I felt like I was going to drown, and each thust covered my entire face in a fresh coat of his very potent smelling seed. It quickly coated my nostrils, and my only choice was to open my mouth or suffocate.

Expectedly mouth filled up immediately with his cum and I had no choice but to swallow. Bythe time his impressive orgasm ended I had to swallow so much cum I could feel sloshing around in my stomach. To my dismay the removal of his big cock was followed by twice as much cum as had already filled me up and glazed my face. Like the stud who just destroyed my manhood and my wife, it just kept coming. I couldn't figure out how there was even space inside of her for so much cum but didn't have time to think about it.

I swallowed so much of his cum my throat burned, my stomach hurt and I felt nauseous. After a few hours his wife recovered enough to walk and they left me covered in his dried cum and my wife mumblimg deliriously in the corner. I passed out too humiliated and tired to even clean his cum off my face.

When I woke up I crawled to the shower and discovered how hard it was to get dried cum out of your hair. Plus, it had clogged my nose and ears, and it was days before I could hear out of my left side. When I finally came out of the bathroom, I found my wife with an ice pack between her legs. She was on her phone, and I quickly realized she was texting him and setting up their next date. I tried to object but my wife just looked at my naked body with pity in her eyes and asked if I knew what a chastity cage was.

[steviewashere]

CW: Infertility (Coming from my own experience just...with a uterus.)

Thinking right now about Steve who wants his own family really bad, but finds out he's 100% infertile.

He only finds out after a failed marriage. His first marriage. Has a beautiful, wonderful, just absolutely incredible wife who accepts everything about his past—stuff he won't talk about and otherwise. Yet, the one thing they knew for certain was a definite in their relationship was children. However, for some reason (that I don't have), his wife rejects the idea of adopting children. So they try. They try and try and try.

Eventually, they get their eggs and sperm analyzed. Her eggs are healthy, her uterus is fine, no complications associated with her ovaries.

Steve, in his next visit, finds out he's infertile. It's not genetically caused. His parents were very fertile, just decided to have only one child. And—maybe due to some Upside Down bullshit; bat bites being untreated, injuries being too traumatic—his sperm production and his sperm vitality are completely destroyed.

He's devastated, of course he is. Brings it up to his wife. They agree to go their separate ways because this was something they both wanted, but now can't have.

And then he just floats about for a while. Quiet and disheartened.

He goes back to Hawkins and bumps into Eddie. Now, I'm thinking, personally, that this isn't some romance story. They're strictly platonic in this scenario (for now).

They get to talking and somewhere in the conversation, Steve's infertility comes up. Eddie tries to gently explain to him that there's other options to have children. "Foster care," he says, "it's where I was for a while. You can adopt from an orphanage, from a hospital. There's always the option for surrogacy, y'know. A lot of different"—

"Eds," Steve interrupts, "I appreciate this, but I...I don't want to talk about it anymore. It hurts too much to think about."

"Sorry," Eddie apologizes.

Steve just shakes his head, resigned. "It's not your fault," he murmurs, "guess I'm just upset that my body doesn't work the way it's supposed to."

"Not everybody's works the way it's supposed to, Steve."

"Yeah," he whispers, "but I was sorta hoping my own would."

There's a lull in the conversation. A long while of just silence and a cigarette being passed and the gentle rustle of trees around them. Outside, in the Forest Hills trailer park, staring down a set of rusted swings.

"How do you think I should handle this, Eddie?"

"Hm?"

"This...this body issue. What am I supposed to do about it? I'm, like...like grieving over nothing."

"You grieve, Steve," Eddie answer simply, "you get angry and you cry. That's all you can really do."

"I don't want to be angry, though. I want...I want to be happy. I want my dream to come true! I want"—he sighs and swallows and looks on ahead of him. To a place he once visited constantly when he still lived full-time in Hawkins, not just passing through. Out on a town that he once called home, a place where he couldn't be the person he wanted to be. Couldn't get what he needed.—"I want to love my kid in a way I never got."

And Eddie looks to him. To his profile. Shuffles closer, cigarette out on the porch. Arm wrapping over Steve's shoulders, tugging him in. "I know," Eddie whispers, "I'm sorry, Steve. I'm really, really sorry."

"It's not your fault, Eds."

"It's not yours either."

He keeps staring out. To a place that was hopeful. Where his dreams bared new. When things seemed reasonable and he could face everything head-on and knew exactly what he wanted for himself. A future of laughter and soft lullabies and hugs warm enough to soothe the world.

There'll be other chances. But not now. Not when he's like this.

"I know," he merely mutters, "I know."

[castiwls]

Chicken noodle soup .ᐟ

Paring; coach!patrick x single mom!reader

Synopsis; flu season is a bitch. Luckily you have two boys who seem pretty keen on helping you.

Notes; I may start a tag list for this if I get enough interest? hm

Masterlist | coach!au masterlist

Flu season.

Last year you’d been lucky, Noah had managed to breeze through unharmed and in turn, so had you. Now though you wished you’d enjoyed those times more than you had. Lying on your couch watching whatever rerun was on you really debated never sending Noah back to school again. 

It had started with a small sniffle a few days after your son had come home from his father's looking like he was knocking on death's door. You knew the moment your ex had called because if there was one thing you knew about him; he never called you.

Less than half an hour later he’d showed up claiming he had to take an emergency shift before all but running down the driveway. Luckily Noah didn’t seem to mind, he’d been determined to stay stuck to your side at all hours of the day and before you knew it your son wasn’t the only one living on chicken noodle soup.

Luckily kids bounce back fast and within four days Noah was rearing and ready to go while you tried to push through the throbbing in your skull. 

Your plan clearly hadn’t worked as for the last 3 days your son's best friend's parents had taken over school runs. Grabbing another tissue you blew your nose for what felt like the hundredth time before groaning and letting your eyes flutter shut.

You had an hour and a half before Noah would be back from tennis - that was long enough for a power nap.

Maybe you'd finally be able to sleep this damn cold off.

⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *

“Shh. Quiet remember.” One voice whispered before a quiet giggle could be heard. Swallowing you grimaced slightly at the pain and the reminder that you were in fact still sick - much to your distaste. You opened your eyes just enough to see Noah appear in the doorway, and your head throbbed at the light from the window.

“Hi!” He smiled, his voice quieter than normal as he came over.

His little arms wrapped around your neck, his curls brushing your ear as he hugged you. “Hey, Sweetheart.” You murmured, your voice raspy. He hummed trying to climb up onto the couch but a quiet voice halted his movements. 

“I don’t think your Mom’s gonna wanna cuddle right now.” Noah pouted but relented much to your secret relief. He hovered by you for a moment before turning to the other person. Noah shifted. “Do we have to tell her dad didn’t come?”

It took you a moment to register your son’s words through the haze of sickness which seemed to smother your whole body. 

"Dad didn’t come."

Suddenly your eyes shot open and for the first time in the last few days, you felt alert. His dad didn’t come? Who the hell brought him-

Oh.

Ignoring the pounding in your head you turned just enough to look at the figure in the doorway. Patrick smiled sheepishly raising a hand in greeting. “I didn’t wanna call in case you tried to come yourself.” He mumbled stepping closer as you shifted to sit up, the blanket pooling over your lap.

The world spun for a moment as you took a breath. Noah climbed up next to you, keeping a slight distance as he ran a hand over the soft blanket. “Your dad didn’t come?” you asked quietly.

Your son nodded, a look of hurt on his face which made your heart ache. “I waited an hour.” Patrick cut in, crossing his arms as annoyance flashed across his face for a moment. What kind of guy left his kid knowing his Mom was sick?

“He never picked up when I called either, straight to voicemail.” 

You sighed rubbing a hand over your face. You didn’t have the energy for this. You knew your ex was an ass but this, this was a new low.

The minute you could talk without it feeling like you were being stabbed in the throat he was dead. He could be a dick to you all he wanted but your son? That was a completely different ballpark.

“Go get changed.” You said reaching over to smooth down the boy's hair for a moment. “You can get a snack as well.” You knew he was upset yet the mention of an extra snack of his choosing seemed to perk him up as he ran off.

Patrick watched you for a moment, taking in your pale skin and dark circles. “Jesus.” He mumbled. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

He smiled slightly. Even sick you still somehow managed to give him the same dry tone.

“Thank you for this.” Patrick blinked, shocked slightly at the sincerity in your tone. “I…I don’t even wanna think what would have happened if you didn’t stay.” 

“It's fine.” He waved his hand. “Kid's technically my responsibility till his parents come. Just doing my job.” He shrugged.

Looking around he noted the multiple tissues, medicine, and cups scattered by the couch.  It was clear that you'd barely moved and for a moment he wondered how the hell you were taking care of a child while looking like you'd been knocking on death's door.

Sighing he reached down grabbing a few of the cups. “What are you doing?”

He paused looking up to see you watching him with a small frown. “Cleaning up.” He answered simply before grabbing more. He quite impressively managed to get almost all of the cups and tissues before standing.

You watched quietly. A part of you was surprised, your son's tennis coach was cleaning up your mess. He’d just stayed back at practice to bring him home when you both know he didn’t have to do that.

It sent a small pang of warmth through your heart that he'd stayed. H

As much as he annoyed you, you couldn’t lie that he was a decent guy (sometimes). Most of the time he still made you want to rip your hair out.

⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *

Patrick smiled slightly at the way Noah seemed to immediately gravitate towards you. He burrowed into your side, slipping under the blanket draped over your lap. He watched for a moment as your eyes fluttered again your body slumping slightly as you tried to fight off the sleep your body was so badly needing.

The feeling of a cool palm against your forehead made you jump, your eyes shooting open just to come face to face with a pair of concerned green eyes.

Patrick's face was set into a frown, your skin was practically radiating heat as he held his palm there. 

A deep sigh left you as you subconsciously lent into the cool feeling of his palm. If he ever brought this up again you would vehemently deny any of this but in the moment you couldn’t find it in you to care.

You’d been trying to parent and nurse yourself back to health and you were simply exhausted.

“You're burning up." He murmured placing a hand on the arm of the couch to steady himself as he crouched down. Noah watched shifting to lean over your lap. A small frown pulled at his lips. “You'll be okay?” Patrick was quick to nod, soothing the boy's worries. 

“Just a cold bud.” He smiled gently easing him back off you slightly. “A cold I think you gave to her.” He teased. You huffed nodding in agreement. Noah pouted sitting back before a smile pulled at his lips as you poked his side.

“S’your fault.”

He shook his head. “Noooo.” He grinned taking a bite of the chocolate he'd taken as a snack. You hummed sharing a look with Patrick who just grinned back at you. “I don’t know.” He hummed. “I seem to remember someone missing practice last week.” He raised an eyebrow as Noah gasped, yelping when Patrick reached over to ruffle his hair.

The boy broke into a fit of laughter as he tried to shove the man away but he was quickly overpowered and scrambled to the other end of the couch. His eyes were bright as he breathed heavily, a bright smile on his face as Patrick raised an eyebrow, his own smile growing.

He finished off his snack before turning to you. “Can I go play before dinner?”

Nodding you mumbled a small “sure.” A slight pang of dread ran through you at the idea of moving. Taking a breath you prepared to face the dizziness again but before you could a hand pressed over your shoulder.

“Sleep. I got it.” 

“Patrick…you don’t have to.” 

He shook his head. “It’s fine. You have chicken nuggets, right? Kids eat chicken nuggets?” He paused looking to the kitchen with his eyebrows drawn. His cooking abilities were...limited to say the least.

A quiet laugh left you. “Yes, I have chicken nuggets. Third draw in the freezer.”

He nodded watching as you lay back down. “Just rest okay? I’ll handle Noah.” He didn’t expect a reply as you relaxed back into the couch, your breathing evening out as you fell back to sleep.

Standing from his crouched position he groaned, stretching his arms. Grabbing the remote he flicked the tv off before placing it down quietly. 

If only you were this agreeable all the time.

He chuckled quietly to himself, who was he kidding he loved your seeming distaste for him. It made it all that more rewarding that you hadn’t fought him on this.

He knew he was wearing you down. He didn’t plan on leaving anytime soon either. Sure you may think he’d gotten what he wanted.

You’d slept with him a month ago and yet he still found himself wanting to spend time with you and with Noah.

Throwing a look over his shoulder he saw that Noah was nowhere to be seen. Leaning down he moved the blanket up, tucking it around your shoulders before brushing a hand over your forehead.

If you wouldn’t stop to take care of yourself someone had to do it for you.

He didn’t mind being that person.

[goblin-jr]

And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you. 

Part 9 of 12

Synopsis: lies, junk, and ebay side hustles

Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader

masterlist

—

The Twinkie’s engine hummed as they drove, the soft rumble steady in the quiet night. Y/N leaned against the window, watching as streetlights cast fleeting shadows across her face, leaving brief glints on her tired eyes. John B’s hands gripped the wheel, knuckles pale in the dim light as he guided them down familiar roads. 

This had been one of the longest - but one of the best nights of Y/N’s life. After the initial shock of finding out each other’s secret wore off, John B volunteered to drive Y/N home, much to Rafe’s dismay. 

They had both grown up on these roads, weaving through the same streets, crashing at each other’s houses, and finding trouble together. Now, things felt… different. As if, somehow, the ground they had always trusted beneath them was shifting. Their silence was comfortable but weighted, as if both of them were holding onto thoughts too heavy to put into words.

After a while, John B finally broke the silence, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “So… I guess we’re practically in-laws now.”

She let out a small laugh, though it sounded more like a sigh. “Guess so. Funny, isn’t it?”

John B smirked but grew thoughtful, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. “I mean, I get how I ended up with Sarah, but… you and Rafe? When did that even happen?”

She felt a slight warmth creep up her face. “Uh… tonight, actually.” She paused, swallowing. “We kissed for the first time. I think the word for it is ‘unexpected.’”

He shot her a sidelong glance, eyebrows raised. “You’re kidding me. Tonight?”

“Yeah. Tonight.” She gave a half-shrug, avoiding his gaze. “It's kind of… I don’t know, it just happened.”

John B let out a slow breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “You kissed Rafe Cameron tonight… wow.” He let that sink in, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm on the wheel. “Guess we’re both out here crossing some major lines.”

Y/N gave a slight nod, feeling the truth of that for herself, too. Sarah Cameron and Rafe Cameron—these were people they’d known their entire lives, kids who had grown up with a silver spoon and never seemed to notice the Pogues except to look down on them. And yet, here they were, tangled in the lives of the Kooks they’d once considered untouchable.

“How did that even happen?” she asked quietly, her gaze still on the passing trees.

John B rubbed a hand over his jaw, considering. “It’s… complicated. It was one of those things that just kinda… snuck up on me. I was working on Ward’s boat one day. He needed help with something in the engine room, and when I came up, Sarah was there. She was sitting by the dock, crying. She’d just broken up with Topper.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, though she wasn’t entirely surprised. “Yeah, he’s… something, isn’t he?”

John B chuckled dryly. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it. Anyway, she looked… different. Vulnerable, I guess. Not like her usual ‘Kook princess’ self. We just started talking, and I don’t know… the lines got blurry. I wanted to hate her, but it’s hard to hate someone when you’re actually seeing them. You know what I mean?”

She did. She understood that completely.

“Yeah,” Y/N murmured, tracing her finger along the edge of the window. “Rafe… I never thought I’d be able to trust someone like him. I mean, it’s Rafe Cameron. But tonight, something just… clicked. And I realized I wanted to be around him. It’s strange, but being with him, even just for a night… it made me forget about a lot of things.”

“Like JJ?” John B’s voice was quiet, understanding. Y/N felt her heart constrict at the name, the weight of years of friendship and unspoken feelings pressing down on her all at once.

“Yeah,” she whispered, almost to herself. “I’ve been in love with him for so long. And it’s like... it’s been this constant thing in the back of my mind, like this background noise that I got used to. But tonight, with Rafe… it was like the noise stopped. For once, I wasn’t thinking about JJ. I was just... there, in the moment.”

John B let out a slow breath, nodding. “It’s kind of terrifying, isn’t it? Letting someone in like that. I know how much you cared about JJ. Honestly… I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you guys. I’ve known you my whole life. You and JJ are the only people who… get me. And now I’m dating Sarah, and you’re with Rafe… it’s almost like we’re betraying something.”

Y/N looked over at him, their eyes meeting for a long moment. “Yeah, it feels like that. It’s not just about us—it’s about all of us. Our whole group, the way we’ve always been there for each other. I keep thinking about what JJ would say if he knew.”

John B’s lips pressed into a thin line. “He’d be pissed, that’s for sure. Hurt, too. But… maybe he’d understand eventually.”

“I don’t know, John B. He’s stubborn. And this would feel like a double blow. We’re his oldest friends, and… he’d feel like we’ve crossed a line. Especially me, with Rafe of all people.” She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. “I can’t imagine losing JJ because of this.”

The silence fell again, heavy with memories and old loyalties. Finally, John B glanced over at her, his voice a little softer, a little more vulnerable. “Then let’s keep it between us. We don’t have to tell anyone. I mean… if things get serious or whatever, we’ll figure it out then. But for now… let’s just keep this between us. I’ve got your back if you’ve got mine.”

Y/N smiled, the weight lifting just slightly. “Deal.”

“Good,” he replied, a flicker of relief in his eyes. He offered her a small grin. “Guess we’ll be each other’s partners in crime, sneaking around with the Kooks. Never thought we’d end up here.”

She laughed softly, nodding. “Life has a weird way of throwing curveballs.”

As the Twinkie carried them back down the familiar roads, Y/N felt a sense of calm settle over her. They had their pact now, an unspoken agreement to protect each other and their secrets. 

—

The salty breeze tugged at Y/N’s hair as she made her way down the familiar path to The Chateau. It had been a week since she last saw the Pogues, and her absence hadn’t been unnoticed. She’d spent the days since the chaos at Tannyhill trying to process everything. The kiss with Rafe felt like a whirlwind, and now she had to face her friends, especially JJ, who she knew would be the hardest. Her stomach was in knots as she approached the hangout, trying to steady her nerves.

John B had said he’d smooth things over, but Y/N wasn’t so sure. Not when it came to JJ.

When she entered, the usual hum of conversation was absent. The Pogues were gathered around the table, but it felt… off. Pope and Kie were sitting together, but their smiles seemed forced as they looked up at her. The only one who wasn’t pretending was JJ, standing by the window, his back to the room, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He didn’t even look her way as she stepped inside.

Y/N hesitated in the doorway, her gaze flicking between Kie, Pope, and John B, who was leaning casually against the counter. “Hey,” she said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Kie’s face lit up, though there was an obvious undercurrent of confusion. “Look who’s back! You good? Where’ve you been?”

Y/N winced at the warmth in Kie’s voice—so different from JJ’s cold silence. “Yeah, just needed some space,” she replied, not wanting to dive into details.

Pope nodded but didn’t press further. “Everyone’s been asking about you,” he said. “Glad to see you finally made it out.”

John B gave a small grin, trying to ease the awkwardness. “Yeah, we were starting to think you’d forgotten how to find us.”

Y/N gave him a small, forced laugh, but her eyes were drawn back to JJ, who still hadn’t turned around. The tension was palpable, and it felt like the air itself was thickening with each passing second.

She tried to take a step forward, but JJ’s voice cut through the room like a knife. “So, nice of you to join us,” he muttered, his tone sharp. “Thought maybe you’d decided we weren’t worth your time anymore.”

Y/N flinched. She hadn’t expected the bite in his words, not after everything they’d been through. She knew he was hurt, but hearing it from him like this felt like a slap.

JJ finally turned to face her, his face hard. “You know, I was worried sick after that voicemail,” he continued, his voice rising slightly. “You didn’t answer my texts, didn’t pick up the phone. What the hell, Y/N? You left me hanging.”

Y/N’s throat tightened. She hadn’t expected this level of anger, but hearing him say that struck a chord. She swallowed, trying to steady herself. “You could’ve picked up the phone the first time I called,” she shot back, her voice sharper than she intended. “This wouldn’t have happened if you had actually been there when I needed you.”

The words hung in the air between them, sharp and raw. JJ’s eyes widened, surprised by her retort, but there was no denying the hurt that flashed across his face. “Oh, so now it’s my fault?” he said, voice low and simmering. “You think it’s that simple?”

Y/N’s chest tightened. “No, I don’t think it’s simple,” she snapped back, her frustration mounting. “But I tried reaching out, JJ. You’ve been so caught up with everything else, and I—” She broke off, running a hand through her hair. “I needed space. That’s it. I wasn’t trying to make you feel like you didn’t matter.”

JJ shook his head, clearly struggling to contain his frustration. “You can’t just disappear like that without telling anyone what’s going on. I thought something happened to you. I was out of my mind, Y/N.”

She softened slightly at the vulnerability in his tone, but her anger still simmered. “I didn’t want to worry you,” she muttered, her voice quieter now. “I just needed time to figure things out.”

JJ exhaled sharply, clearly still hurt but now holding back, as if deciding whether to continue his outburst. Finally, he muttered, “Fine. Just… next time, don’t leave me in the dark. I don’t do well with that.”

Y/N nodded, her throat tight as she met his gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t care. That’s the last thing I want.”

There was a long, heavy silence before JJ, with a frustrated sigh, finally gave a small, resigned shrug. “Alright, fine. Just don’t do that again, okay?”

John B, sensing the moment was still tense, stepped in with a lighthearted tone, trying to ease the mood. “Alright, enough of the drama. We’ve got a Pogue reunion here, right?” He glanced at Y/N with a small, reassuring smile. “Let’s just have a good night, yeah?”

Y/N gave him a tight smile, but her gaze lingered on JJ for a moment longer. There was still a distance between them, an unspoken tension that neither of them could ignore. But at least, for now, they were talking again. She only hoped the cracks in their friendship wouldn’t be too hard to fix.

—

A few days had passed since the tense moment with JJ, and things seemed to go back to normal, or at least, as normal as things could get in the Outer Banks. Y/N still spent most of her free time with Rafe, sneaking in moments together whenever they could. It felt like a secret they were both carefully tending, and despite the weight of keeping it under wraps, there was an unspoken comfort in it. She had no intention of telling the group just yet, but she wasn’t pretending things were the same with JJ either. There was distance now, but it was the kind of space that made it easier to breathe. And while Y/N still felt a little uncertain about what it meant for her friendship with the Pogues, she couldn’t help but feel lighter every time she was around them.

People noticed when she disappeared. Pope raised an eyebrow at her a couple of times, Kiara playfully asked if she was meeting some "mysterious boy," and JJ, though distant, was clearly still keeping an eye on her. But no one questioned it further. No one needed to know.

That afternoon, Y/N found herself back at the Chateau, where the gang had regrouped after a few days of avoiding serious conversations. The group was loud, as usual—Kiara pulling out an old map, Pope half-heartedly objecting to some of their more ridiculous ideas, and JJ getting a little too enthusiastic about a new "adventure" they could take. This time, it was JJ’s turn to suggest something chaotic.

“I’ve got it,” JJ said dramatically, eyes lighting up. “We go to the junkyard.”

Y/N shot him a raised eyebrow. “The junkyard? Really?”

“It’s perfect,” JJ continued, ignoring the questioning looks. “We could find treasure, make some plans for the summer, do something that actually makes us feel alive for once. Plus, there’s always weird stuff there—old cars, random bits of metal, who knows what we might find?”

Kiara perked up at the mention of treasure. “Could be a gold mine,” she added with a grin. “Or at least we can see if there’s any cool, rusty junk we can turn into art.”

Pope, who had been staring into the distance, suddenly broke into a mock frown. “The junkyard? Really? You guys are seriously trying to drag me into a place filled with piles of trash?”

JJ grinned, always ready to egg Pope on. “Come on, Pope. You can pretend to be the sophisticated one all you want, but deep down you know you want to get your hands dirty with the rest of us.”

Y/N laughed, leaning back on the couch. It was a sound she hadn’t realized she’d missed—her group, teasing and laughing with no tension. It felt like old times, before everything got complicated. Before she started feeling like she was on the outside of the group, watching as JJ and Kiara danced around each other and trying to figure out what her feelings for Rafe meant.

“I’m in,” Y/N said, sitting up and giving them a small grin. “Let’s go find some treasure.”

Pope, still grumbling, threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine. But I’m not getting stuck in any piles of scrap metal. I’m too smart for that.”

“Just remember that when I find something amazing, you’ll be the first to carry it for me,” JJ teased, already standing up and grabbing his jacket.

At that moment, John B, who had been lounging on the couch with a cup in hand, suddenly perked up. “Did someone say junkyard?” he asked, eyes wide with mock excitement. “That sounds like the kind of adventure I can get behind.”

Y/N shot him a grin. “You planning on driving us there, Captain?”

“Obviously.” John B tossed the cup aside, jumping to his feet. “The van’s ready. And if I’m driving, we’re making this a proper expedition. No half-assed treasure hunts on my watch.”

Kiara rolled her eyes but smiled at the enthusiasm. “Fine, fine. Let’s go then.”

The gang piled into the old, beat-up twinkie, heading off toward the junkyard. As they approached the site, the familiar scent of rust and oil filled the air. The place looked like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie, with broken-down cars, shattered glass, and twisted metal strewn across the dirt lot. The kind of place where nothing was useful, but everything had the potential for some kind of adventure.

“Alright,” JJ said, standing dramatically in front of the group, “let’s make this a scavenger hunt. First person to find the weirdest thing gets to claim the prize.”

“Prize?” Kiara asked, skeptically. “What, are we going to sell the trash we find?”

“Exactly,” JJ grinned. “Who says junk can’t be worth something?”

Pope rolled his eyes but couldn’t hold back a smirk. “This is ridiculous. But I’m game.”

Y/N watched John B, who was already surveying the junkyard with a mischievous grin. He had that familiar glint in his eyes—the same spark he always got when he was looking for trouble, and he wasn’t about to let JJ have all the fun. “Fine,” John B said, “but I’m getting the prize first.”

“You wish,” JJ shot back, already moving toward a stack of old tires. “I’m gonna find something epic.”

As they began to spread out, Y/N couldn’t help but feel lighter. She wasn’t thinking about JJ’s stupid pity kiss, or the constant tension that hung between them. She wasn’t worried about Rafe’s feelings either—he was the secret she didn’t have to explain, and she was content with that. For once, she was just part of the group again, her old self. The Pogue she used to be.

JJ sprinted toward an old car, shouting out, “I call dibs on this beauty!” and began rifling through the trunk, already making an absurd amount of noise. Kiara, Pope, and Y/N followed suit, though their finds were much more practical. Y/N pulled out a few rusted tools, giggling when Pope made a face at the mess she was digging through.

“You sure this is the best we’ve got?” Pope asked, his voice tinged with sarcasm but a hint of amusement.

“I don’t know,” Y/N said with a playful grin. “What’s your definition of treasure, Pope? Something shiny?”

“Exactly,” he said, half-smiling. “I’m all for finding treasure, but not garbage.”

“We’ll see about that,” Kiara called out from behind a pile of tires, already holding up a set of old neon lights she thought could be used for their next bonfire. “This could make a perfect addition to our party setup!”

Y/N watched as Kiara took charge of their little scavenger hunt, leading them through the junkyard with a sense of excitement that made the whole thing feel a little more like a real adventure. Pope was actually getting into it now, his competitive spirit taking over as he tried to beat JJ to whatever “treasure” he could find. JJ, of course, was already in his own world, imagining the junkyard as some sort of personal playground, where every broken thing was just a stepping stone to a bigger, better idea.

John B wandered off toward the far side of the yard, his eyes scanning the piles of junk for anything that might catch his eye. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at how natural it felt, watching the group fall into their old rhythm.

As they explored, laughing and tossing things aside, Y/N realized that it wasn’t just the junkyard that felt like home—it was this. It was being with these people. No matter how chaotic things got, no matter how much she didn’t know what she was doing with her own life, these were the people who always had her back

The sun blazes overhead as Y/N steps into the junkyard, eyes wide with excitement.

“This place is awesome!” Y/N exclaims, practically bouncing on her toes. “It’s like a treasure hunt, but better because it’s all free!”

Kiara chuckles beside her. “I mean, it’s not the best place for treasures, but yeah, you could find something cool.” She swats a crow feather out of her face. 

John B, already leading the way, turns back with a grin. “Follow me, I know where the good stuff is.”

Y/N follows, practically bouncing with curiosity. “Okay, okay. Let’s see what’s in there.”

Pope, trailing behind, lets out a dramatic sigh. “Good stuff? In a junkyard? This is like a museum... for garbage.”

Y/N laughs, waving at a pile of old scrap metal. “Hey, you’d be surprised. There’s probably something worth a lot here, Pope. You never know!”

They reach the shed, and John B immediately tries to open the door. He pulls, pushes, and gives it a shoulder check, but it’s locked.

“Uh, guys,” John B mutters, frowning. “It’s locked.”

“Duh,” Pope replies, unimpressed. “It’s a shed. Who’s surprised?”

John B shrugs. “Well, this shed’s too interesting to leave alone. JJ, grab the crowbar. We’re getting in.”

JJ jumps into action, grinning. “This is gonna be fun.”

Pope looks around nervously. “This is a terrible idea. We’re gonna get caught.”

“Relax,” John B says, already walking back to make room for JJ. “It's fine. We’ll just—”

JJ pulls out the crowbar and gives it a couple of solid swings against the shed’s door. The sound of metal against metal echoes across the junkyard. On the third swing, the door creaks open with a groan, revealing the dark interior.

“Here we go!” JJ says, his grin widening. He steps into the shed like he just found buried treasure.

Y/N steps forward, eyes lighting up. “Okay, okay. Let’s see what’s in here.”

But as the group floods into the dimly lit shed, their excitement quickly fades. The place is stacked with nothing but junk—old furniture, broken tools, and boxes of random stuff, nothing of any real value. The walls are lined with old tires, discarded appliances, and garbage bags.

“What the hell?” Y/N says, her voice deflating. “This is... this is just junk.”

“I told you,” Pope mutters under his breath, crossing his arms. “Who in their right mind would call this ‘good stuff’?”

John B shrugs, undeterred. “Hey, sometimes the best finds are hidden under a pile of garbage.”

JJ pulls a dusty old television out of a box and wipes it off. “Look, I found this! I mean, it’s not working, but who wouldn’t want a retro TV in their house, right?”

Pope raises an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah, because that’s totally what I want—vintage junk.”

And then, the door slams shut.

Y/N spins around, eyes wide. “Uh, guys? The door just closed.”

Kiara, who’s looking around the room with increasing unease, says, “No way. We’re locked in? Are you kidding me?”

John B goes to grab the handle, but it’s stuck. “Great. Of course, the door’s stuck now.”

JJ, still casually rummaging through junk, stops and looks up. “Wait, seriously? We’re locked in?”

“Yeah, JJ!” Y/N says, her voice rising with a mix of panic and amusement. “We’re locked in. Look at this place. There’s no way out.”

Pope starts pacing, his calm demeanor cracking. “This is not happening. We’re literally locked in a shed in a junkyard.”

Kiara looks around, her eyes darting from one junk pile to the next. “Well, at least it’s not a stranger’s shed. I guess we could just chill... but, uh... still... someone has to come looking for us, right?”

Y/N starts laughing, despite the situation. “I mean, yeah. Worst case, we just start a new life in the junkyard. It's practically our new home now.”

JJ throws his hands up. “Yeah! We’ll live off moldy pizza boxes and tire swings. Total dream life!”

John B glares at him, half-annoyed, half-amused. “Guys, seriously, quit joking. We need to get out of here.”

“Right,” Pope mutters, pulling at the door again. “Maybe if we just pull it...”

The group tries everything—pulling, kicking, even trying to knock the door down, but nothing works. After several attempts, the group begins to lose their energy, and the silence hangs heavy for a moment.

“Okay, so we’re stuck in here,” John B says, flopping down onto an old recliner, his voice nonchalant. “This is officially our new hangout spot, I guess.”

Kiara glares at him. “This isn’t funny.”

“No, really,” John B grins, raising an eyebrow. “You guys remember that one time we got stuck in that abandoned house during that storm? Remember how much fun we had?”

Y/N snorts. “Yeah, except that house was less junk-y and more... ghost house.”

“I mean, this place is just as fun, right?” JJ says, flopping down next to her, pulling a rusted license plate out of a box. “We got old stuff. We got... character.” He waves it around like it's some kind of trophy.

“Sure,” Pope grumbles, “if by ‘character’ you mean ‘how many ways can you die while inside a shed full of junk.’”

John B suddenly jumps up. “Wait, I’ve got it. We break out the windows!”

Kiara looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “John B, that’s not a good idea—”

But John B is already going for it. “Just trust me!”

After a few attempts, they finally manage to break the window, with John B leading the charge. The group spills out into the sunlight, everyone covered in dirt and laughing like it’s no big deal.

“Well, that was an adventure,” Y/N says, brushing off her hands with a grin. “I guess we can cross ‘getting locked in a shed’ off our bucket list.”

Kiara punches her lightly on the arm. “Yeah, not on my list, but sure, let's count it.”

Pope straightens up, shaking his head. “That was a mess. But at least it was... interesting.”

John B slings his arm around Y/N's shoulders, laughing. “Another Tuesday with the Pogues. Couldn’t get any better, right?”

—

A/N: Pogues back to business as usual. Don’t worry—Rafe’ll be back next time. Please drop a thought if anything stuck out to you, I love hearing what you all think!

–

Next time: secrets don’t stay hidden for long

—

Taglist: @hockeybabe87 , @idiotussupremus , @certifiedhaters , @oatmealisweird, @sluggmuffin , @maybankslover , @ren-ni, @wh0reforbucknasty , @enjoymyloves , @bilssturns , @dragonslight , @willowpains , @sidney-86

[nakylvr]

giving g!p megan her first blowjob... im having so many thoughts

no cause...i had to make this a lil thing

— LOST IN YOU 🍒

warnings/tags: language, nsfw content, f!reader, g!p!megan, sub!megan, dom!reader, oral

"you okay?"

you stare up at megan, sitting on your knees while she sits on the bed in front of you, her boxers at her ankles with her cock hard at the sight of you. you're both not really sure how this situation came about. it started with just watching a movie before going to sleep, but the moment a scene comes on where a guy is getting a blowjob by some chick, your girlfriend was eyeing you before flat out saying she hadn't gotten one before. being the good girlfriend you were, you obviously decided to help her with that.

"yeah," megan says with a nod, but there's uncertainty in her voice you can recognize.

"we don't have to do this if you don't-"

"i want to," she cuts you off quickly. "please,"

"okay," you nod. your eyes remain looking up at her as you inch your face closer, grabbing her cock with your hand and giving it a few slow pumps, watching the way she grits her teeth together. you press your lips to her tip, sticking your tongue out and licking the beads of precum dripping from the head. parting your lips, you slowly take her in your mouth, seeing her instantly throw her head back.

"o-oh my god- fuck," megan gasps the second she feels the warmth of your mouth around her. her head is leaned back already, eyes squeezing shut as a whimper leaves her mouth. her hands are gripping the bedding tightly, not knowing what else to do to try and keep herself from cumming instantly.

you try your best to take all of her, at least as much as you could with the girth of her cock having you struggling slightly. your hands rest on her thighs as your eyes don't look away from her. you slowly swirl your tongue around her length, hollowing your cheeks and slowly starting to bob your head up and down.

the whine megan lets out almost has you thinking she'd end up cumming within the minute, but you didn't mind. "fuck, yn," she whines. she's trying so hard to not buck her hips, but can't help and accidentally do it, a groan falling from her lips at the light gag you let out and feeling her tip hit the back of your throat.

your nails dig into her skin as she accidentally thrusts into your mouth, a gag coming from you at the feeling of her hitting your throat. you reach for one of her hands that was nearly tearing the bedding, guiding it to your head which she immediately grabs ahold of your hair. you decide you shouldn't tease the poor girl, seeing as she already looked so overwhelmed by your little ministrations. you go a little faster now, going all the way down and taking all of her, holding there for a second, and coming back up.

"shit, ngh, you-you're go-good at this, f-fuck!" megan grabs your hair with a tight grip, tugging on it every time your head goes back down with strings of whines and whimpers leaving her mouth and tears brimming in her eyes. she finally opens her eyes and looks down at you, your eyes locking with hers causing her to twitch in your mouth. "oh my-oh my god!" her whining is progressively getting louder as she gets closer to cumming, and she accidentally thrusts into your mouth again eliciting another gag from you. "sh-shit, 'm so close- fuck!" it's an almost overwhelming amount of pleasure she's feeling, and a few stray tears fall from her eyes as you go all the way down and stay there. seeing the saliva dripping from the corner of your lips down your chin mixed with the look in your eyes and feeling your take her completely has her eyes rolling back and letting out a long whine, bucking her hips and cumming down your throat.

you watch as she comes undone above you, keeping her in your mouth as she cums before removing yourself from her and swallowing it all. drips of her cum mixed with saliva coated your lips, and the sight alone almost had megan hard again. she pants heavily as you get up off your knees and stand, leaning down and kissing her. she moans into the kiss tasting herself on your lips, her hands grabbing your waist.

when you part from the kiss, you smile at her. "how was it?"

"so fucking good," megan says in a single breath. "i need you to do that more often."

"just ask and i will," you reply, pecking her lips.

[halfwayhearted]

Hi girl i love your work sm,

would you be able to do one with marc bernal and he’s really touchy with the reader and he’s just obsessed with her and has to be near her all the time

tysm xxx

For Lovers — Marc Bernal.

Pairing: Marc Bernal x Fem!Reader

Summary: Marc won’t leave you alone, you don’t really mind.

Word Count: 700+

Disclaimer/s — Just tooth-rotting fluff, uh. Freak yeah.

A/N: Thank you so much!!! I love you and I loved this request. BOOOOM SHAKALAKA. YES GAAAAWD. I’M SICK.

The night was going smoothly. You’d invited Marc over for a night in, something you two often liked to do. With him having to practice and travel, you would take whatever time with him you could get.

Lifting your head up and off his chest, you’re met with a disappointed groan. “What’s wrong now?”

“You’re moving. Why’re you moving?” He asked.

“You’re not bored?” Your tone was confused. All you guys were doing was watching movies. How was he not at all bored? “Let’s make some food?”

Food. Okay, he could eat. “Yeah, let’s do that.” And with that, he reluctantly releases his hold on you and moves to stand, his hands not wanting to be off you for long. When he helps you to your feet, his hand rests on the small of your back for whatever reason. This was your house; he didn’t necessarily need to guide you, well, anywhere.

Once you both enter your kitchen, you open your refrigerator and glance at whatever ingredients you spot first, hoping that the second you lay your eyes on something, a recommendation will pop into your mind. That’s what you always did.

Thankfully, it does! It’s simple, but it could work. “So! How does a quesadilla sound? Is that good?”

“Mhm,” Marc hums, his gaze trained on yours like he was following your every move. It makes you nervous. You know you should be used to it by now, although you don’t think you ever could be.

Taking out everything needed, you switch on the stove, your body turning to face him while you wait for it to heat up. “What’s next on our list? We could start a show and only watch it when we’re together. I have a bunch that we could start.”

The boy tilts his head. “Yeah? Tell me about them, then we can choose,” he says, leaning against the counter. Again with the eye contact. Oh… okay.

“Well—” you found yourself unable to even start under the intensity of his gaze, and you swallow. “Can you, uh, can you grab the cheese for me?”

He doesn’t answer you, but he follows through with your request. That’s when you start to speak. “Oh, wait! We can watch ‘Outer Banks’! Have you heard of it? About the treasure and all that?”

Yes, he has. You seem excited to talk about it, so he finds himself shaking his head no. Setting the cheese down next to the stove, he’s already by your side, his hand finding yours on the countertop, fingers drawing shapes. The first being a heart. Then, he flickers his gaze to yours, watching how you talk about how the show has been on your ‘must watch’ list for a year, you just never had the chance to go through with it.

“Marc? Are you even listening to me?” You laugh.

That’s when he blinks. How long have you been finished explaining? “Yeah. Yes. Let’s watch.”

“Perfect! Just give me, like, ten minutes. You can go sit down if you want. What drink would you want? Look in the fridge and let me know, ‘Kay?”

“I’ll wait. I can wait for you,” he shrugs. “Tell me more about the show. Or is that all you know?”

“That’s all I know. We can talk theories about it?”

The sound of his laugh is like music to your ears, tugging the corners of your lips into a soft smile. You don’t know why he’s laughing. “How can we talk theories if neither of us have watched it?”

Your eyebrows pull together at that, and suddenly you’re frowning. “Fine. Let’s talk predictions?”

“Let’s talk predictions. How about you start," Marc suggests. Of course, he’d want you to start. You just never really know why. Not that you were complaining or anything, though.

To him, it was just so he could hear your voice. Yes, he listened. He always listened. The fact that he could listen to you ramble on and on for probably hours and still be able to repeat and ask questions made you want to do nothing but tell him how deeply in love with him you were.

And he’d want nothing more than to do the same.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri + @spidybaby + @sakashq ! ౨ৎ

[loveafterdeath-if]

Can I ask you how El would have reacted if MC asked them what they wanted to ask (maybe at home while reassuring El on the couch or while brushing teeth)?

I hope we're thinking about the same thing, well, obviously there's only one thing MC wanted to ask so hopefully I got it right.

Btw, I, uh, got a bit carried away haha....

Here’s how it would’ve been in another life

(Serious is green and playful is red)

As you brush El's teeth, your brain thinks and overthinks, gears turning in your head relentlessly. Should you ask now? But then again, proposing right now is a bit... 

Let's just say you imagined something more elegant and sophisticated. You're brushing his/her teeth, both of your mouths coated with toothpaste foam. There's nothing elegant about it but... You still have this little box in your pocket and you don't think you can wait any longer. 

That waitress did ruin your moment earlier, but it doesn't have to be perfect, right? It's the thought that counts as they say, and you love El. Your love has to be enough. 

"What ah you hinkin–" El pushes the toothbrush away making you pull your hand back as he/she spits in the sink next to him/her. After a moment, he/she tries again. "What are you thinking about?" 

"I–" 

"Me?" El wiggles his/her brows. "You're thinking about me, admit it." 

"Maybe you'd know if you actually let me answer," you huff a laugh, nudging his/ her inner thigh playfully from between his/her legs "Can I talk or do I have to pay for subscription to do it?" you level him/her with a deadpan stare.

El only grins as he/she waves a hand for you to continue. "Alright, alright. Go ahead, babe." 

Suddenly, you're not sure anymore if you wanna talk. His/Her full attention is on you now, his/her eyes shining with wonder and curiosity. 

You clear your throat, straighten your back and swallow hard as your hand hovers over your pocket where the lil treasure lies. The object feels uncomfortably heavy in your pocket right now. This is nerve-wracking. This is probably a bad idea to do it right now.

Fuck, you're nervous... your hand is slightly trembles and you hope he/she doesn't notice. 

He/She does. 

"Hey," he/she murmurs softly, wiping toothpaste from the corner of your lips with his/ her thumb before cleaning his/her own mouth under the sink’s spray. 

You're glad he/she did. At least you'll look somewhat decent for what's about to happen.

"You okay?" he/she asks, hands reaching out again but this time to cup your cheeks, thumbs stroking gently there. He/She seems torn between reassuring you about whatever has you feeling this way and teasing you. "What's going on?" 

"Nothing," you mutter, a slight frown betraying your words. 

It's El's turn to frown as he/she searches your eyes. Finding them he/she smiles warmly. "Why are you frowning, then? 

"I'm..." not. That's what you want to say but it'd be a lie. 

“You are,” he/she retorts in a quiet voice, gaze darting between your eyes. “Did I do something?”

“No,” you shake your head, your hand covering one of his/hers on your cheek. “No, you didn’t.” “Then tell me what’s wrong?” "Mh? Nothing, nothing," you grin at him/her, trying to mask your nervousness. 

El cocks a brow, a teasing smile spreading on his/her lips. "Why do I feel like you're lying?" 

"Me?" you throw him/her your most innocent look.

Your lover mirrors you, batting his/her eyelashes playfully. “Yes, you.”

“I would never,” you declare dramatically, a hand raised as if performing a theatrical monologue. “My heart is too pure, my soul too genuine, my mind too–“

But seeing his/her growing worry, you finally sigh. Right, maybe not a good idea to deflect right now.

You’re someone courageous, you’re gonna propose right now. You’ll do it. Right here, right now. Or maybe after some minutes of– no, you’ll do it.

Slipping your hand in your pocket, you suck in a breath. Shit, okay, you're actually doing it. This is now or never. No time for overthinking it. 

"El," you start. You want to go again and start saying how much you love him/her, how much he/she means to you. But if you do that, you're scared to backtrack and decide against it once again. 

El nods, patiently waiting, anticipating. He/She takes back his/her toothbrush to brush his/her teeth while you take your sweet time spilling it.  Slowly, your lower your knee until it touch the floor and that’s exactly when his/her whole body freeze, the box finally showing its head as you lift it and open it for El's view. The chocolate diamond not shining as brightly as El’s eyes.

"Marry me," you finally say. 

It's a bit... blunt, but there's no denying the vulnerability in your eyes right now as you hold his/her gaze. Your throat constricts and your heart races, as if trying to escape your damn ribcage.  "Marry me?" you attempt a smile, trying to bring out your playful side. But you can't hide how terrified you are right now. 

It’s one thing to joke here and there, but it's another to expose yourself so much, so… completely. 

You did it. The stress hasn’t vanished at all, though. You proposed... now you just have to actually hear the answ– 

Your eyes instinctively close when El sputters, literally spitting in your face as you grimace. Wow... so much for a picture-perfect proposal moment...

However, when your eyes open, your expression softens at the sight he's/she's giving you. 

His/Her eyes watering and glimmering with unshed tears, lips trembling, soft, choked noises escaping his/her throat. "You're a monster..." 

You blink at him/her. You're not sure how to interpret this answer. 

Suddenly, El sobs, launching off the counter to practically tackle you. You both crash to the floor with a solid thud. You groan, rubbing the back of your head, suddenly thankful for your thick skull. Your attention is pulled elsewhere, though. You feel him/her nod frantically against your skin, burying his/her head in the crook of your neck. "Yes yes YES... I love you." 

His/Her hiccups and whimpers echo in the bathroom as he/she grips you for dear life, as if afraid it's all a dream. "I love you so much..." 

You don't waste time wrapping your arms around him/her, pulling him/her closer than he/she already is. Your hand rubs his/her back as he/she lets it all out, your own eyes watering at the pure joy you're feeling right now.

“It’s… It’s my fave color,” he/she hiccups against you, body shivering with each sob.

“I know.”

“I love you I love you I love you…”

"I love you too, El." 

The box is forgotten on the floor. 

But it's okay, because the man/woman in your arms is more important than any rings in the world. 

[straylightdream]

body and soul | coming soon

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: jeon wonwoo x f.reader

↳ after a terrible day at work there is nothing more he wants then to go on a motorcycle ride with you.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: soulmates au?, non idol au, established relationship

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: ??

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: so much fluff, they’re both so incredibly down bad for each other, wonwoo rides a motorcycle (I don’t know if that’s a warning), creampie, wonwoo has breeding kink even though he doesn’t want to admit it, sex outside (but no one is around) sex against a brick wall

𝐚𝐧: this can be read as a one shot but it’s also connected to king of my heart, but you don’t need to read that to understand this story.

if you would like to be tagged please fill out this form.

PREVIEW

Quickly he pulls his bike into a covered dark all that’s absolutely empty. He helps you off the bike and unbuckles your helmet. You pull it off handing it to him. You can’t help but feel cold with how wet you got in that unexpected downpour.

“Baby I didn’t think it was supposed to rain.” He reaches up pushing the rain for your cheeks.

“It’s okay.”

“I think we’re stuck here for a while. It looks like all these businesses are closed.”

You can’t help but shake a little. You definitely weren’t dressed for the rain and your joggers you wore are wet and sticking to your skin. “Baby I’m sorry,” he takes your helmet from your hands and sets it on the back of his bike. He wastes no time pulling you close to his body. “Let me warm you up.” He holds you close, rubbing your body. He leans his head down resting his face against your neck. He doesn’t kiss your neck but his lips gently brush the sensitive spot on your neck that always turns you on. A soft gasp passes your lips.

“I didn’t mean to touch there,” he whispers against the sensitive spot. His large hands continue to rub your back as you hold him close. His breath keeps hitting the sensitive side of your neck turning you on. He’s managing to get you wet without trying.

Without thinking you grind your hips forward hoping for some sort of friction.

A soft moan passes your lips. “Does someone like it when I’m close to her neck?” He says with his lips ghosting your sensitive spot.

“Fuck-“

“You know we’re away from anyone who can see. We’re behind a building facing a forrest.” You know exactly what he’s insinuating. And at the moment you don’t care that you could possibly get caught. You just want Wonwoo to fuck you.

“Baby,” you whimper. With his fingers tangled in your hair he walks you back to the brick wall behind you. His hands protect your head and he gently pushes you against the wall.

“Are you going fuck me against this wall?”

He swallows staring at you with lust filled eyes, “fuck I want to.”

[ravengards-rogue]

lucky bastard

john marston x fem!reader

✧ tags : afab + fem!reader, gendered language, established relationship, outdoor sex, lots of dirty talk, john being an idiot, mentions of sex work, all of this is very consensual reader is just shy. 18+

✧ wc : 1k

✧ a/n : this guy makes me insane against my will. everyday of my life.

✧ synopsis : john is full of bad ideas.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

"John Marston," Your voice is stern, harsh as you whisper. Both hands on his shoulders pushing yourself from the grasp he keeps you in so tightly. "Get the hell—"

"Don't be that way angel." His words are sweet but his voice is filled to the brim with snark. Edge to edge. "What? You too good for fuckin' in the woods now? Too much of a lady?"

You smack his shoulder. His response is to keep you exactly where you are - which is in his lap on an open trail, later at night. No blankets, bottoms discarded in a heap besides you since John insisted on getting you skin to skin.

You're not fucking in the woods, you're fucking just outside of them - a place to camp near the trees in the Grizzlies East - near Moonstone Pond.

You're right besides the trail, right where any down and out bastard could trot their horse through and get a clear shot of what's going on. There's better places to do this. Deeper in the trees where there's no chance of of somebody finding you both, for one.

But John seems excited at the idea of getting caught. And when John gets in one these moods, there's no reasoning with him. He gets caught up in his wants as always, foolhardy and crass. Though you mind it less than you're honest about.

His hands find your hips, blunt nails grasping at you for life as he moves you. Doesn't move himself, but rather - moves you, slides you up and down on the hard length of his cock with a smile just short of smug and just past mesmerized.

In the dead of night, it's easy to hear how he makes you feel. What he does to you. The wet lazy sound of thrusts of his dick in you drown all noise of the lonesome evening. You wrap yourself around him in a fit of desperation, hitting your fists weakly on his back. He laughs in the way he always does, presses a kiss to the parts of you he can reach while you throw a fit.

"You're such a rotten, no good, irritating bastard, Marston."

"And you just can't stay away from me, can you sweetheart?" He holds you in place while you bottom out and you can feel him swell when you say it. You almost want to sneer. "It ain't like you to play coy."

"I'm not playing anything. Someone's gonna come out here and see and—"

"And what? Some poor bastards gonna ride through here and see you split open on me and wish he was me? You feel sorry for him? I sure don't."

Your voice catches at the sudden change. The change in pace, the change in tone, the change in demeanor. His hands grip you tighter and he flips you until you're laying in the grass on your back. His dick kisses your cervix at the new angle, legs wrapped around his waist and blinking in surprise from where he looks down on you. More scar than man, all sharp lines and dark hair barely failing away from his face.

He leans down that time. You think to kiss you but instead he hikes you up until your spine arches so slightly and he thrusts that way. Fucks his cock so deep into you, it feels like all the airs been punched out of your lungs. It's more invasive than it's been all night, bigger and thicker - makes it feel like your cunt is being pulled open. The tip dragging on your insides, sticky and sensitive on each motion.

You gasp his name out, hands find his hair - tugging just to have something to hold. "John,"

"In fact, if anything - we're doing 'em a favor. Only time they see a woman at all is when they're paying for her. They could only be so lucky seeing a woman as beautiful as you feeling so good for me for free."

You make a whimpering noise and swallow it down. John laughs, scruff against your shoulder. His teeth tug at your ear lobe as he positions you - hand sliding between your bodies as his thumb finds your clit.

"I'd put a bullet clean between their eyes before they touch you, you know that? But I'm a decent man so," He laughs breathless. "A look is all they're gonna get. Charity, ain't it? In a way.''

You make a face at him, disarmed - weak, purely and plainly in a way that makes his laugh go from smug to charmed, affectionate. He kisses you on the lips that time. Corner of your mouth, your chin and cheek and shoulder. His arm cradling you easy in his grasp as you keep your legs up for him to fuck you.

Fire runs through your nerves as all the sensations settle in at once. The pleasure of having your clit rubbed even clumsily is enough to make you whine out in pleasure, especially in pace with being fucked so hard again and again. Something turns in your belly, honeyed - hot, like pouring sugar over a flame. You feel the warm iron of your own want be shaped by John with every consequential knock and thrust.

You breathe out as his attitude slows to merciful. He gets like this when you get close - gets all softhearted and gentle even as he's fucking you senseless.

You sniffle. "You're such a bastard, Marston."

"Don't I know it," He hums, easy and keeps going. "Getting close for me, angel? Gonna make me a nice little mess to clean up?"

"Shut up,"

He chuckles. "C'mon. You gonna let go for me?"

You swear. "Y-yeah."

"Good girl," He praises. You can't even pretend not to keen when he says it. "Go on then. Show me. Let me see,"

With another unceremonious thrust, you unravel in John's arms like the threaded frayed ends of a piece of twine. Pulled apart, you cum on his cock hard - a tingling sensation spreading through your whole body as your back curls up. Your legs force John to stay bottomed out as you shudder. The overwhelming pleasure doesn't seem to end.

You only breathe after a few minutes. John coaxes some comfort from you with a kiss to your collarbone.

"Still mad at me?"

You roll your eyes and smack his head lightly. "Shut up, Marston."

"Shut up ain't much of an answer." He says, pretending to sigh. "Guess I'll have to make you go one more to earn that forgiveness huh?"

Your lips quirk. Idiot. "Guess we'll just have to see."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[hoshifighting]

hellooo I just want to say that I like your blog, I really like your writing style🫶🏻🫶🏻 AND

what do you think about Vernon finding the reader's twitter spam account? at first, without saying anything, he follows her from a fake account and learns her fetishes and things like that. then he can't hold back and teasing the reader because of this situation and does all the things she reposts, all she wants and imagines(I honestly can't decide whether they will be friends or lovers and I leave it to you)

thank you very much in advance🩷🩷🩷🩷

when vernon finds out about your freaky tweets

WARNINGS: smut, face slapping, BIG DICK!VERNON, cock riding, mentions of hair pulling, dirty talk, choking.

it starts innocently enough; you’ve got your little spam account, this place where you post anything that comes to mind without a second thought. it’s private, anonymous—you’re safe, or so you think. until one day, you start noticing a new follower, someone with zero posts and a random handle, lurking in the notifications. you brush it off, figuring it’s just some bot. but vernon… well, vernon's been piecing things together. and one night, after reading one of your latest posts—something so NASTY that practically burned his screen—he decides he can't just pretend he hasn’t seen it. so he waits until you’re in the living room next saturday, all comfortable, maybe a little too comfortable. you look up, seeing him standing there with that little frown he gets when he's too stressed to understand something, a raised eyebrow, and his phone in his hand.

“so… ‘i just want him to hold me down and—’” he reads aloud, and you feel everything in you freeze up as he raises an eyebrow at you. “‘then pull my hair back so i can see his face… maybe, idk, slap me around a little?’ really, y/n?”

you scramble, trying to play it cool “vernon—wait, why—where’d you see that?”

“oh, i dunno. i’ve been following this account for a while. figured i’d wait until you posted something really crazy before bringing it up.”

you stammer, face going hot. “i—you didn’t have to read it out loud like that, jesus.”

“oh, come on,” he says, leaning in, crowding your space just enough to make you feel cornered “you can post it, but i can’t say it?”

you swallow hard “i didn’t… i didn’t think you’d see it.”

“didn’t think i’d find out?” he echoes, voice dropping a little. “you know, all this time, i’ve been seeing these little things you like. i didn’t say anything because i thought you’d be embarrassed. but now…” he smirks, leaning back with a sigh, watching you. “now i think maybe i should give you some of what you’re so clearly craving.”

“vernon,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, but it’s hard when he’s looking at you like he’s imagining every filthy thing you’ve ever posted.

he smirks, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “oh, don’t go all shy on me now. i’ve read what you want. all of it. let’s start with the basics, huh?” his hand trails down, tipping your chin up, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “you wanna ride me? why didn’t you just say so?”

you feel your heart pounding as he pulls you closer, he's practically purring as he goes, “or that other thing you posted—what was it? something about choking you?” he wraps his hand lightly around your throat, thumb brushing over the sensitive skin as he watches your reaction. “like this?”

you almost cant nod, you're melting, your breath coming short as he tightens his grip just enough to make you feel it “so pretty when you’re horny,” he murmurs, fingers pressing just a little more.

and when you shake your head, he grins, pulling you onto his lap, guiding you to straddle him as his hands settle on your hips “guess i’ve gotta make up for all those little fantasies you’ve been hiding, huh?”

“you sure you can handle it?” he whispers, leaning in, lips brushing against your neck. “’cause i don’t think you really knew what you were asking for when you posted all that.”

but you nod, he tilts your head up, lips brushing over yours, and you feel his hand come up, palm grazing over your cheek before he slaps you—just a little, just enough to make you gasp. he chuckles when you moan, liquefying on his lap, fingers tilting your face back to him.

[...]

he’s already watching you with a azy smirk, eyes rolling sliighty as you sink down onto him, your thighs trembling as you struggle to take all of him in. and god, he’s big. you knew he would be—you’d guessed it a dozen times in all those reckless tweets, wondering just how good it’d feel, but feeling it now, it’s like all that teasing turned on you, stretching you almost too much, and every inch you take feels like a challenge.

“aww, look at you,” he coos, his hands resting on your hips, fingers rubbing little circles into your skin as you try to ease down, taking him deeper, even though it’s making your breath catch, making you whimper and shake. “what happened, baby? i thought you said you could handle it.”

you bite your lip, cheeks burning, and he chuckles, leaning in closer, voice low and teasing. “or maybe you just wanted me to be big so you could talk all that shit on your little account,” he murmurs, running his thumb over your lip. “all those tweets you made, talking about wanting me to be, what—eight, nine inches?” he grins, watching the way you flush, the way your hands grip his shoulders to steady yourself. “think you got what you wished for, hm?”

“shut up,” you manage to whisper, but it’s so breathless, your body clenching around him, and he laughs, hands guiding you down just a bit further, his hips lifting just a little to meet you, that makes you gasp, makes you try to pull back, but he keeps you there, fingers firm on your hips.

“no, no, let’s see you take it,” he whispers, voice rough with that soft teasing. “come on, baby. don’t tell me this is too much. you wanted all of it, right?”

you nod, trying to adjust, but it’s almost too much fr, too thick, too deep, and he watches you with those hooded eyes, savoring every single whimper you make. “it’s okay,” he says softly, almost soothing as he leans up to kiss you, but you can hear that cocky lilt in his tone. “you’re doing so good. even if you can’t take all of it… god, you’re trying, huh?”

and he’s right there, brushing his lips over your cheek, murmuring sweet, filthy encouragements into your ear as you sink down a little more, taking just a bit more of him, even though your body’s practically begging for a break. “that’s it… there you go. so good, baby. i’m impressed,” he purrs, hands trailing up your back. “i didn’t think you’d take even this much.”

every time you pause, every time your breath catches, he’s right there, fingers digging into your hips, guiding you, helping you ride him “guess you really wanted to know..” he murmurs, grinning as he watches you struggle, your head falling back as you finally take just a little more, his hands pulling you down hard against him until you can feel every inch of him.

“there it is… that’s my girl,” he whispers, in asatisfied rasp, his eyes dark as he watches you ride him, just as you’d dreamed about, exactly as you’d hoped—only now it’s even better.

[beauttifullife]

Chapter 20: This Road is Wild and Wicked (Preview)

“When people first hear how my mind works, they think it’s a gift,” she murmured, her gaze fixed somewhere distant, as if she were speaking to the air in front of her. “It really isn’t. I think… I think it’s a curse.”  

Agatha turned to her, caught off guard by the statement that seemed to come out nowhere, but Rio didn’t look back.   

Agatha could see the tension in Rio’s grip, the way her fingers tightened as if she were holding on to Agatha’s hand as a lifeline, as if she needed it to keep going.   

Agatha squeezed back, silently urging her forward, waiting.  

“When I was thirteen,” Rio began, her voice steady but laced with a strain, “my parents and I were driving back from one of my soccer tournaments. We were hit head-on by a drunk driver. My dad… he died instantly.”   

She paused, a tremor passing through her voice.   

“My mom, though… she was hurt badly. I could see her, but I couldn’t get to her—my legs were pinned.”  

Rio’s gaze drifted, as if the memory were pulling her back.  

Agatha watched as Rio’s free hand drifted to her knee, fingers tracing slow, restless patterns back and forth.  

“Sitting here, in this car,” Rio continued, her voice soft, hesitant, like she was speaking from a place buried deep within, “I can feel it, like I’m back there all over again. The weight pressing down on my legs, the tightness in my chest... the panic clawing its way up, the helplessness…”  

Her voice trailed off, and she pressed her head back into the leather seat, squeezing her eyes shut, her jaw clenched so tightly Agatha swore she could hear her teeth grinding.  

“And I can still hear her breaths,” Rio gritted out, the words strained, as if they were physically painful to release. “Each one... so wet, so— pained .”  

Agatha sucked in a quiet breath, her chest tightening in response to the raw pain laced in Rio’s voice.  

Jesus.  

Why was Rio telling her this? Why was she putting herself through the agony of reliving it?  

A sharp ache bloomed in Agatha’s chest as a startling realization hit her— she hated this.  

 Seeing Rio in pain, watching her struggle through memories that tore her apart piece by piece. Catching Rio quietly wiping tears away in the bathroom had been hard enough, but this… this was so much worse.  

But Rio wasn’t finished. It was as if she were determined to reach the end, to push through this painful memory, as though it held something she needed Agatha to understand.  

“My mom, she… she turned toward me,” Rio continued, her voice trembling, thick with emotion. “Even then, I could tell she was barely holding on. I knew— somehow, I just knew —that she was going to die. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.”  

She swallowed hard, her jaw clenched as tears gathered in her eyes, shimmering in the dim light of the car.   

Agatha’s chest ached as she watched Rio struggle to hold back the flood of emotions, her grip tightening around Agatha’s hand in a borderline painful grip.  

“And then,” Rio’s voice broke, barely more than a whisper now, yet so loud in the quiet car.  “She told me… ‘ Close your eyes, mija ,’ she said. ‘ Close your eyes and cover your ears. Can you do that for me, baby? ’”  

After the words crawled painfully out of her mouth, she shook her head, as if trying to shake the sound of her mother voice from her ears.  

“I didn’t understand why she was asking me to do that,” she continued quietly, her voice trembling. “But I was terrified, so I did what she asked. I closed my eyes, covered my ears, and sat there in the back seat, surrounded by darkness and silence that felt like it would go on forever… while she died just five feet away from me.”  

Agatha’s chest tightened painfully, the weight of Rio’s words sinking deep.  

Rio’s words lingered in the silence that followed, as if the weight of them took on a tangible presence, filling the car—pressing against them.    

Agatha held her breath, watching as the tears finally slipped form her eyes and down Rio’s cheeks, silent but devastating.   

Agatha’s throat tightened, as she felt the urge to say something, to reach out and wipe them away, to offer words of comfort, but nothing seemed adequate—she was trapped in this story just as much Rio was.    

Rio took a shaky breath, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand, though her grip on Agatha’s hand didn’t loosen.   

“It wasn’t until later, at the hospital that I realized why she told me to do that.  She asked me to close my eyes and cover my ears,” Rio continued, her voice fragile, “because she knew I’d never forget the moment she died. She knew that memory would haunt me. So, she tried to shield me, even then. She died still trying to protect me— protecting me from own mind .”  

Agatha’s heart ached at the depth of Rio’s pain, her fingers tightening around Rio’s hand in silent support. This wasn’t just a story—this was Rio’s way of opening a door to her heart, showing Agatha something she kept hidden from everyone.  

“After that, I learned to keep everything separate,” Rio said, her gaze distant, lost in the past. “To keep my eyes shut and my ears covered—to keep my emotions apart from the memories. It was the only way I know how to survive… to stop them from consuming me.”  

Agatha became dimly aware of the car slowing to a stop, catching a fleeting glimpse of Rio’s street outside the window, but she couldn’t tear her focus away from Rio. She was entirely caught up in the raw, unfiltered honesty spilling out before her.  

Rio hesitated, her hand tightening around Agatha’s, then loosening, then tightening again, as though she were battling with something buried deep.   

Agatha braced herself, sensing that whatever came next was going to be harder still—though she couldn’t imagine how Rio could possibly bear to share something more painful.  

With a deep, aching sigh, Rio finally turned, lifting her gaze to meet Agatha’s. Her eyes shone with a vulnerability so raw that it made Agatha’s heart skip a beat.  

And for the first time since she’d begun speaking, Rio looked her directly in the eye, and Agatha understood—whatever came next held everything Rio had been holding back.  

“But I can’t keep my eyes closed with you, Agatha,” Rio whispered, her voice breaking, the words trembling on the edge of something raw and unguarded. Her gaze held Agatha’s, as if searching for a safe place to land.  

She swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around Agatha’s as though trying to ground herself.   

“It just hit me out of nowhere.  And suddenly I... I feel everything ,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, thick with emotion. “And I don’t know how to shut it off.”  

[kitkatpancakestack]

DMV meetcute lesbians yay! I have been writing about them in an effort to break through this hellish writer's block bc they are fun and nothing hurts in this universe and I love them <3 Anywayyy it's been a bit since I shared some writing so here's a snippet, if you're so inclined:

“I appreciate the thought,” Chloe said, breaking Gabi from her spiral. “You driving me home from the hospital the other day was enough. You don’t—owe me anything.”

“It’s not—uh, whoa! What do you think you’re doing?” She more or less threw the food onto the kitchen table in order to intercept Chloe at the cabinets, where she had attempted to reach for the plates. “You had a pen literally lodged in your chest, and I thought you were gonna die on me, like, three days ago, so maybe let me get that?”

“I can do it.”

“Okay. Humor me then.”

Chloe blew a lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail out of her face. “Beer?”

Alcohol always had the potential to make this evening better or exponentially worse. A gamble she was willing to take. “Yeah, thanks.

Chloe moved to the fridge instead and Gabi grabbed two bowls from the cabinet and went about setting out the various containers of chinese food.

“Thanks,” Gabi said, as an open beer was set down in front of her. Chloe smiled and Gabi tried to ignore the weird flip in her stomach and the dryness in her mouth in favor of sticking to her new life plan, which was to not be a walking disaster. Thus far an utter failure but call her an optimist. “So, uh, feel free to take whatever you want. Looking at it all in front of me I think I went a little overboard. Eyes bigger than my stomach and all that.”

Chloe didn’t say anything, but her posture was loose and relaxed as she dragged the lo mein closer to her. They ate in silence, nothing but din of LA continuing on outside the walls. Objectively it was a fine moment, and for anybody else it may have even been content, but Gabi didn’t think she had ever been fine or content in her entire life. As it was, she sat chewing on her egg roll hoping her cool exterior did not give away the nervous breakdown simmering underneath.

You’re just . . . you’re too freaking much, Gabi! You’re too much, until I actually want to have a legitimate conversation with you, or I need you to tell me something real, and then it’s nothing! Two years together and I still just do not understand you. I think that’s what you really want, is for nobody to know you at all!

“Gabi?”

She jerked, swallowing the egg roll gone soft in her mouth, throat suddenly tight. “Sorry?”

“I asked if you wanted another beer.” Chloe’s mouth was soft and pink and her lips a little spit slick from licking them, and Gabi felt her face go hot. 

“Um.” Girl don’t do it. “Yeah, that would be—thanks.”

She fought the urge to bang her head on the table as Chloe returned to the kitchen. “Listen, Chloe—” she stopped when saw a letter tacked up on the fridge with "alumni" in big blocky letters at the top, the first thing she’d seen in the apartment that had any kind of individuality or hint that an actual person lived inside. “Whoa, are you a dancer?”

Chloe frowned in confusion, but then her gaze snapped to the fridge, and a weird stiffness settled over her features. There one moment and gone the next, though. She smoothed the edges out quickly and seamlessly and settled on a more neutral expression. “Yeah, I—” She laughed, a quick burst of air through her nose, shaking her head. “I graduated from Julliard, actually. No big deal.”

Gabi thought her eyes were about to pop out of her head. “No big— are you shitting me.”

Chloe set the beer down. “No.”

“I just—”

“What?” The word was defensive, biting. Gabi walked back her excitement and dug her nails into her palms to keep herself in check.

“I could see it,” was what she settled on. “Your poise handling me during that driving test was unparalleled.”

Chloe laughed for real and that was the biggest win Gabi had earned in a while. “Yeah, you were pretty bad.”

“Hey, I am aware of my many, many faults.”

“You’re human,” Chloe rebuked. “Is this about that breakup you told me before? I’m sure your ex-girlfriend wasn’t faultless. Anyway, you saved my life, so I’d put you on my team any day.”

Gabi laughed, the sound was hollow even to her own ears. “Thanks, I guess.” She fiddled with the paper label on the beer bottle. “She, uh . . .” Gabi cleared her throat. “I’d texted her, because she’d gone to the store, and we didn’t have any milk and I just wanted to make sure that she got some milk.” A stabbing pain ricocheted through her, anchoring her to that moment, a window of time she never felt like she would be able to leave. “She left her phone on the coffee table, and it lit up, and I just glanced over at it, but she’d changed my name in the phone. It just said, ‘Pandora’s Box.’”

She remembered confronting her ex about it. Still hopeful even during one of the worst moments of her life. Yeah, Gabs, it says Pandora's Box, you know, that thing you open and then it's just, fucking disaster after disaster. Sound familiar?

Chloe’s face was measured, and Gabi felt bad that each time they got together she ended up trauma dumping on her. Jesus, she really was a mess. “I’m sorry, that’s—I didn’t come here too bitch and complain—”

“Gabi, oh my god.” Chloe reached over with her good side and covered Gabi’s hand with her own. It was a little larger than Gabi expected, seeing it up close, but soft and warm, her nails well-manicured where Gabi’s were bitten down to anxious nubs and bleeding all the time. “Didn’t I tell you she was in your rearview now? I didn’t know you back then, I only know you now. It’s okay.” She smiled, a little bigger, genuine. “I like you plenty the way you are.”

If she had been one more beer in she might have started tearing up, but even as her eyes remained dry on the inside she felt soupy and warm and soothed. It would only last as long as the evening, but it had been a while since she felt anything close to this. She clinged to it. She clinged to the slide of Chloe’s hand off her own. She clinged to the freckle perfectly dotted under the jut of her jaw. 

“Thanks for dinner,” Chloe said, rising to her feet.

The buzzing under her skin made her restless, nervous, so she turned to her regular source of comfort, to the knowledge that she could leave, she could always leave, she could always disappear, if things imploded again. 

And so she clung to that, too.

[writingtraumaforever]

Uncontrolled Chaos: Chapter 14

Notes: Heads up! I won’t be updating a few days. Still feeling crummy and a bit loopy on meds, so I wanna wait for my head to be on straight before I continue. Thank you all for your patience and support! ^^

Summary: Rouge gets this ball rolling while Sonic finds himself curious and intrigued by this new and nicer Shadow.

Chapter Select!

Link to my AO3!

Start:

“Wait. Soo.. Shadow isn’t our Shadow??”

“Nope,” Rouge mumbles, phone held to her ear as she leans back against the clay wall behind her. She’s standing outside Tails’ home, Sonic and Shadow inside trying not to be awkward around one another.

“That.. can’t be good.”

“I don’t really know what it means, right now,” she sighs, rubbing a hand back through her hair before fiddling with the ends behind her neck. Twirling a piece around her finger, she frowns a bit, “I just worry for what it means for our Shadow..” she pauses. Swallows and closes her eyes, “Do you think he’s—“

“I’m sure he’s fine, Rouge..,” Knuckles’ voice is reassuring but firm on the other end, a softness to the way he mumbles, “Shadow can take care of himself. You know that.”

“I should’ve been there with him..,” she hugs her arms around herself, keeping the phone pinned between her shoulder and cheek, “I should’ve put my foot down with Commander Tower and just—“

She sighs, hearing Knuckles’ soft voice coming through her anxiety.

“Hey.. hey, don’t do that. Don’t beat yourself up. You and I both know that even if you had convinced your boss to let you go with him, Shadow wouldn’t have wanted a babysitter.”

Rouge can’t help the tiny smirk on her lips as she speaks, “You’re right..” she sighs again, frowning as her head tilts up against the wall behind her. Her turquoise eyes staring at the blue sky..

“I’m always right. The sooner you realize that, the better,” Knuckles teases through the phone, earning a scoff from the bat. Her eyes roll in an annoyed sort of way, but she smiles. She knows he’s just trying to get her head out of the clouds..

“You keep tellin’ yourself that, himbo.”

“What’s a ‘himbo’???”

“It’s—Nevermind. Doesn’t matter. You’re just proving my point,” she waves her hand dismissively, “Anyway.. we have this running theory the reason this Shadow even ended up here is because he played with artificial chaos energy..”

“Ah,” Knuckles hums, seeming to now understand why she was calling, “You called because you need my knowledge of chaos energy.”

Not because you need me. That goes unspoken, but Rouge still hears it plain as day.

“I called because I know if I can depend on anyone, it’s you,” she adds with a knit in her brows, “…I don’t want to call your treasure hunt short, but—“

“It’s an emergency. I get it,” Knuckles assures calmly, “I’ll come back. May take a few days, but I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thank you, Knuckles,” Rouge breathes, a sigh of relief flooding her as she looks down at her shoes with a frown, “I owe you one.”

“You owe me more than one, bat,” Knuckles replies with a smirk in his tone, “Lucky for you, I suck at counting.”

“Why am I not surprised?” she chuckles, smiling to herself at him trying to cheer her up.

He’s sweet when he wants to be.

It’s one of his more endearing traits.

“I probably won’t be able to do much, though, if I wasn’t there when he initially used Chaos Control..”

Rouge purses her lips at that, “What if I could get you the readings on his Chaos Energy right after he was found??”

“That would certainly help.. I’d need the emerald he used, too. And a real one.”

“We’ll get on that,” she nods, making mental note of what she’ll need. Looks like yet another hunt for the chaos emeralds was on. As always.

Seemed to be an endless cycle for them.

“Good. I’ll get in contact with my ride and head back as soon as I can.”

“Great,” a pause, she swallows before adding, “Be safe..”

“You too. Don’t be too trusting of this new guy just because he looks like your friend, Rouge.. Can’t be too careful.”

“What do you think I am, a softy??”

“You’re certainly softer than you allow others to believe.”

She just stays quiet at that. He’s not wrong, per say, but she won’t admit it.

He just chuckles at her silence, “I’ll see you soon.”

“Whatever,” she huffs before adding a bit softer, “.. Bye Knuckles..”

She hangs up.

Inside, Sonic is leaving Tails another voicemail, “Hey buddy! Sorry to bug ya, but I really need you to call me back. Can’t tell ya through a message, but it’s important. Alright, hope you’re doin’ good! Take care!”

He hangs up with a frown, tossing the communicator Tails had built him specifically for the two of them onto the nearby chair before plopping onto his back on the couch with a groan.

“Why won’t he answer??”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Shadow assures from his spot in the kitchen, helping himself to a snack since he’s starving, “He’s a smart kid. He can take care of himself.”

“I know that,” Sonic sighs, sitting up to look at Shadow through the doorway, “He’s just never been off on his own for this long.”

“Isn’t that the point?” Shadow questions with a raise of his brow.

“Well- yes,” Sonic admits, crossing his arms with a little pout, “Doesn’t mean I have to like it..”

Shadow can’t help but smile a bit at Sonic’s little pout.

His instincts tell him to go over there and kiss it away, rub the little furrow between his brows smooth with his thumb and comfort cuddle him.

But that’s a no-no. So he just chuckles to himself and looks down at his sandwich to take another bite.

Sonic looks back to him a bit curiously before hopping up off the couch to walk over, sitting on the edge of the table Shadow is eating at.

“So you like— eat normal food, huh??”

Shadow snorts a bit at that, looking up at Sonic with a questioning look, “What else would I eat??”

“I dunno,” the hero shrugs, “The sun??”

Shadow blinks at that, deadpanning at Sonic, “..You think I photosynthesize??”

“No?? What does pictures have to do with eating??”

“I—… nevermind,” Shadow rolls his eyes, looking back to his sandwich to take another bite.

“Seriously, though. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Shadow eat. I thought he just didn’t have to because he’s the ‘Ultimate Lifeform’,” Sonic puffs out his chest and drops his voice comically as if that’s how Shadow actually sounds.

“Surely your Shadow doesn’t sound like that.”

“He totally does.”

“I don’t have to eat.. well.. not as much as most,” Shadow explains, swallowing his bite, “I still need sustenance to keep my energy levels high enough. But not near as much as you do.. though, sometimes I just eat because I like to. Food is good.”

“Ay-yo, that’s a good point,” Sonic nods in agreement, a little grin on his muzzle as his legs kicks aimlessly from where they’re dangling from the edge of the table.

“Especially chilidogs.”

“Especially chilidogs,” Sonic agrees, eyes wide and deathly intense like it’s the most deadass statement ever.

Shadow smirks a bit at that, taking another bite a before reaching for his water to sip.

Sonic watches with a bit of curiosity in his eyes. Like something about Shadow eating is just so intriguing. So mundane.

Shadow puts his water back down and looks at Sonic with a quirked brow, “…Did you need something??”

“Huh?? Oh- no. Sorry. It’s just..,” he pauses, pursing his lips a bit to try and find a way to put this, “you’re.. way easier to talk to than the Shadow from this world.”

“How so?” Shadow questions, tilting his head at Sonic as he continues eating.

“Well Shadow Number 1–“

“Shadow Number 1??”

“Yeah. You’re Shadow Number 2, obvi.”

“What if I wanna be Shadow Number 1??”

“You can’t be Shadow Number 1.”

“Why can’t I be Shadow Number 1?”

“Because you’re from the second world.”

“But your world is the second world to me.”

“Yeah, but mine is obviously the canon world.”

“What does that even mean??”

“I don’t know, just— okay. I’ll call you something different. Our Shadow will be Shadow. You can be…”

Sonic hums in thought, tapping his chin as he furrows his brow and then looks back to Shadow, “Got a nickname??”

“Um.. well, my friends call me ’Shads’ sometimes—“

“You hate when I call you that.”

“I seriously doubt the other version of myself hates it as much as he says he does.”

Sonic smirks a bit at that, chuckling before shrugging and, “Well alright. Shadow is Shadow. You’re Shads. Easy enough.”

Shadow nods with a small smile, “Anyway, continue.”

“Right. Shadow is kind of an ass is what I was gonna say.”

Shadow quirks a brow at that, his smile turning to a frown as he speaks, “Yeah, so I’ve gathered.. you all have called him grumpy more than anything else since I’ve been here.”

“Yeah, that’s because he is,” Sonic assures, huffing with an eye roll as he thinks on all the times Shadow has been a serious jerk, “He’s such a downer. And thinks he’s so much better than me like— all the time.”

“I’m sure that isn’t true.”

“No, it is. He’s always telling me how weak I am or how I’m stupid or annoying—“

“That doesn’t sound like he’s better, that sounds like jealousy,” Shadow observes with a shrug, “I dunno, though.. I do know he’s definitely not thinking he’s better than you.”

“And how do you know that??” Sonic asks with a huff, “You’ve never even met the guy.”

“Because he probably hates himself,” Shadow answers, and Sonic’s casual demeanor fumbles at that.

Sonic frowns instantly, looking at Shadow a long moment before looking down at the ground with a thoughtful look, “…Why would you think that??”

“Because I hated myself for a long, long time..,” Shadow answers simply, finishing his sandwich before turning fully to Sonic to give him his full attention, “After everything that happened.. my past.. it was hard not to.. I blamed myself for a lot that I couldn’t control.. that’s also why I would be so bossy and harsh with everyone for awhile. I was stressed beyond belief, feeling this unbridled need to control everything since so much was out of my control. I didn’t want anything to happen under my watch again..”

Sonic snorts a bit at this, glancing to Shadow with a small smile, “You sound like you’ve been to therapy.”

“I have,” Shadow confirms with a nod, no shame in it.

“Oh,” Sonic blinks, a bit surprised by this, “I didn’t mean to—“

“You didn’t offend me,” Shadow assures with a shake of his head, “..I know it’s stigmatized. But I don’t mind admitting I needed the help.”

“So it helped you, then?”

“Well.. that and you,” Shadow admits a bit softer, a tiny smile on his lips as he looks at Sonic. His head tilts at the way Sonic’s lips part to form a tiny ‘o’ shape, the blue hedgehog’s cheeks growing pink.

Shadow chuckles and corrects, “Well.. Sonic Number 2.”

Sonic snorts at that, giggling with an eye roll as he quickly looks away and rubs under his nose casually, “So I’m Sonic Number 1, then??”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Hey!” Sonic laughs, punching Shadow in the shoulder playfully to which Shadow snickers and shakes his head.

Their moment is interrupted by the door opening, both looking to see Rouge entering with a stressed look on her face.

“Alright, boys, I’m gonna have to leave you two be for a bit. Momma’s got some errands to run.”

“Can you bring me back a chili dog, mommy~?” Sonic coos, batting his eyes dramatically at her. Rouge just smirks at this, “Only if you’re a good boy.”

“Ooo. Spicy,” Sonic teases playfully before hopping off the table to turn more towards her properly, “So what’s up?”

“I have to head back to GUN and try and sneak out whatever files they have on Shadow’s last op and his medical scans,” she explains with her hand on her hip, “It’ll be cake. The real challenge comes after.”

“What comes after??” Shadow questions, standing with his empty plate in hand to put it in the dishwasher.

Rouge seems to brighten up a bit at this, “A good old-fashion treasure hunt. And lucky for you two, you’ve got the best hunter around.”

[wendigoruble]

Playtime: Oneshot

[This is like softcore af.. Like more than I intended it to be]

Franco had dressed himself in his freshly cleaned white pinstripe suit for tonight. No blood stains or dirt stains, fresh pressed and no wrinkles. On any other man it would look impeccable but it hangs loose against Franco's body. The sleeves and pant legs are just slightly too long, over hanging with lightly bunched fabric. For once he has the pristine coat buttoned up but only to hide the pacifier he keeps around neck at all times. It's pressed to his chest and he can feel the dull plastic edge rub against his purple dress shirt every time he moves his arms. It's a small discomfort but he'd found it a touch easier to pick up women with it concealed. He could never understand why that would turn someone off.

His gaze sweeps the area as he brings the glass of whiskey to his lips. The drink makes him internally cringe like a spoonful of medicine had been forced into his mouth. Even with its smoothness he doesn't like it, but the boniface refused to make him a wolf's milk and it's not like he can unstrap lupara from her holster and make the demand. Not tonight. He has personal business to attend to.

The club is packed with people wall to wall dancing to the soft jazz and murmuring among each other. Groups of friends chatter away close by and the odd couple are necking here and there.

Franco had himself seated at the bar. No one sits by him, no one attempts to go near him but he isn't concerned over that. People must really fear him. After all, he’s the button man for one of the largest mobs in the area (and he has his gun holstered across his back). Who would ever try to approach him unless they're looking to make a payment or there to gravel at his feet?

He takes another sip from his glass and holds it in his mouth before spitting it back out. How do people drink this stuff? It never feels right or tastes right, it's far too fluid. He turns to the bartender, about to complain, when someone catches his eye.

A woman is walking up to the bar and the very sight of her makes Franco feel warm. She has shoulder length black hair, long eyelashes, and a stern look about her smooth round face which is accented by pouty red lips. The black dress she wears shows off her shoulders and hugs her curves and well endowed chest. The fabric stops mid thigh and Franco's gaze travels all the way down to her shoes. Those black stiletto heels that click against the wooden floor really seals the deal. They make her at least three inches taller than him at that.

His heart is already thudding in excitement the closer she gets. He can barely hide his anticipation.

Before she even has a chance to talk to the bartender Franco is slipping off the barstool and placing his gloved hand on the counter in front of her. He stands too close and she seems little more than annoyed at him. Glaring down with the smallest hint of a sneer.

“Whatever the lady buys is on me.” He says while smiling up at her.

“Really?” She puts a hand on her hip before her sneer turns into a sly smirk,”Whatever I want?”

“Anything for a lady as beautiful as yourself.”

She seems to think for a moment, tilting her head up with judgment clear as day in her eyes. This little deformed looking man is offering to buy her drinks and she can see his plan from a mile away. It's pathetic in a very endearing way and she can read the glittery look in his pale blue eyes. A want, a joy barely contained with a crooked buck-toothed grin.

“Mmhm. What do you really want, kid?” She mocks.

Franco can feel that warmth growing inside when she spits at him like that. A coiling heat in his lower stomach springs to life. He has to swallow so he doesn't make a sound he'd regret. With a smooth exhale he tucks his hand into his jacket, ready to grab the money from the inside pocket. He never takes his eyes off her.

“Ain't yous a forward woman. I was just wonderin’ how much it'd cost to have an evening with ya.”

She very nearly laughs at him before seeing the thick stack of bills he's got pulled halfway out. She smiles, steps closer, grabs his wrist, and takes the money right out of his hand. She can hear an audible shaky exhale then and looks down to see him staring directly at her chest which is about as close to his face now as she can get without touching him.

“I think this should be enough.” She pushes him back by his shoulder.

“Wwhh.. Say, what's ya name?” Franco bites his bottom lip as he resteadies himself and rolls his shoulder. Normally he'd be pissed off should anyone touch him but he can make an exception this time.

“What would you like it to be?”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

“Ohhhh mutha!!” Franco cries out into the cold air of the motel room,”Baby's been bad!”

Tears are welling up in his eyes, his face is flushed and he holds his hands together tightly. Biting onto one of his thumbs in anticipation of the next firm smack against his bare skin. He jumps when that sweet sting of pain radiates out followed by a soothing rub. Oh his ass has to be red raw at this point. She's been at it so long he's bound to be bruised. Probably wont sit right for a week.

He dares pass a look back at his dear mommy for the evening. That sadistic joy glimmering in her eyes damn near makes him fawn all over again. What a good mommy she is. Breaking him down and making him cry, making him feel small and insignificant. Before he can even open his mouth to shower her with compliments he's spanked one last time. Tears slip over his cheeks as he moans and grinds against her thigh. Rolling his hips with a high pitched whine as his cock twitches and leaks pre that smears against her skin.

“Awhh is my baby boy having a good time?” She coos.

Franco can do little more than huff in response while he steadies himself.

She smooths over the bright red irritation with her palm. His skin is hot to the touch and she makes it a point to drag her nails across it before placing her other hand around his neck. Squeezing ever so slightly, urging him back and making him stand up so she can so delicately kiss his cheek. A red lipstick print is left behind. A mark he'd wear with pride should it never be washed away.

Her fingers curl around his throat and it's a welcome restraint. Franco leans into her hand enough to make his breathing hitch. She leads him down onto his knees. He stares at her with such adoration as she slots her leg between his. Pushing the point of her heel into his groin makes him visibly tremble. She applies further pressure with the toe of her shoe, pressing against his cock as he wraps both arms around her leg.

“You like that? Like playing with mommies shoes?”

Franco nods as he rests his cheek against her thigh and begins to rut on the sole of her stiletto. Pressing into it hard enough that it actually hurts. He gives her the most innocent look he can muster before faltering into a series of loud huffs and high pitched groans. He turns his head slightly and drags his tongue along her smooth skin before biting down hard enough to leave a bruise.

With an airy moan she rests back on her palms and watches with amusement as he pleasures himself with such vigor. She's happy his desperation is so evident because it makes it all the better when he pulls her leg away just before he cums. He's left on all fours just trembling and blushing with those big glassy eyes. Whimpering as precum drips from the tip of his irritated prick. He makes a move to grab her leg again but she leans up and smacks his hand away.

“Please..”

Again Franco reaches out to touch her only to be swatted back once more. She looks at him through half lidded eyes and with a firm tone she says,”Lay down.”

He obeys implicitly. Laying back on the floor despite any discomfort it gives him because it's worth it. It's worth it when she stands up and presses that heel into his chest. His gaze rolls up to see her dragging her hand up between her legs. His lips part with his tongue between his teeth only to have that heel then moved up to his neck, then his cheek. Forcing his head to the side so he can't look at her.

“Filthy baby boy aren't you?” She muses.

She doesn't get a response, she doesn't expect one. Especially not when she notices him beginning to stroke himself rapidly. For a moment she does consider stopping him again but he's so eager she allows him to finish. He cums on his lower stomach in thin white ropes before dragging his hand up through the mess.

“Guess you really are a filthy baby boy, hm?”

[gensokyohyakkiyako]

"Yeah...With this, I should finally be able to do it~." She grinned excitedly. Nobody could stop her now. She could finally...Be the beast she was meant to be! Shaking off that lingering pain from her experience gaining the weave, she'd fly away immediately...Towards the human village.

The villagers would see a black dot in the sky. Nothing strange, people fly around all the time...But before they had the time to realize what was even going on, Mew came flying at them like a missile and landed in the middle of the village, several houses instantly being slashed apart along with their inhabitants in a spray of blood.

"Hehehehe...~! You all...You've forgotten just how dangerous a real monster is, haven't you? Let me remind you~!" She laughed, waving her claws towards one of the villagers who was trying to flee from her and instantly cutting his body into four chunks horizontally. She pounced upon his remains, beginning to devour his raw flesh...Certainly not as flavorful as cooked human, but there was truly something magical about the taste of freshly killed prey.

That were-hakutaku came out to stop her...She yelled something at Mew, but the cath palug was not listening. She immediately choke-slammed the youkai into a wall, carving deep gashes into her body in a surprise attack with her claws and collapsing the school behind her with the massive cuts that extended further than her claws. Keine struggled and managed to find her off...But realized what Mew had done and was forced to try to save what children were still under the rubble. That was one impediment out of the way for now...Mew was more interested in wreaking more havoc.

She charged off ahead down the street, tearing more villagers apart and ripping their meat off their bones with her teeth. Certainly, the villagers were stronger than outside world humans...But that didn't do much to save them here. Especially now that Mew could strengthen herself even further. She bit into a woman's throat, swallowing the blood that gushed forward before reaching back to grab the arm of the man trying to attack her from behind, swinging him into the wall before smashing his skull against it with a kick.

This felt like a dream come true~! Finally she could unleash these desires that were restrained for so long! But before long...Another obstacle appeared. Her body was bombarded with youkai-slaying needles, blowing away part of her...Yet just as easily, she'd weave herself back together as she looked up at her assailant...The Hakurei Shrine Maiden, Reimu.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? You should know the-" Reimu was immediately interrupted, her incredible intuition allowing her to evade it when Mew threw an invisible slash her way. She'd gone for the head, too...What a shame.

"I'M DONE WITH RULES...IT'S TIME FOR YOUKAI TO BE YOUKAI." She laughed, charging up at her. There was no danmaku. It was like one of the battles of old...Reimu tried to put up a barrier against her attacks, but even that reached its limit before long against the onslaught of invisible cuts. Each time Reimu attacked, Mew would immediately move to dodge, but often got clipped by it anyway...She was good. Really damn good. But it didn't matter. While normally any other youkai would've been defeated by now, Mew kept weaving herself back together each time she was destroyed. Despite the barrier, against Mew's attacks, her cuts were slowly adding up...She could win this! As long as she managed to get a killing blow before Reimu used Innate Dream against her...! While Mew had this weave, nothing could stop her~!

"No better way to teach you how to 'weave and sew' your own body, than to experience it...besides." She ran her fingers across her lips with quite the smile. "I got to enjoy myself a little, no complaints here."

She failed to mentioned if she experienced it too, if she had but was so normalized to it she didn't even blink? One may not know for now, but at least it seems on Mew's successful sewing of her body back together. That things were working, it'd be such a tragedy to test and see her laying lifeless.

"Simplicity is the hallmark of refined spells, so I've been taught. It should be, easy to use because you need to use it when you're lacking eyes or a brain sometimes."

"Like programming in every little bone, fascinating isn't it?" Micuccia had been crouched before her and and stood with her, a hand on her chin to inspect her fine work.

She seemed to like being handsy.

"At your level, weaving to refine your physical attributes.. should be relatively simple. With practice I'm sure you can break limits, but that's not what it's all about is it... to weave your own life..."

"Not even these fragile youkai and sages can take it from you now..." Only she can, only Micuccia could.

"You should go play a little... I have a dinner date at the mansion over yonder. Fret not, I'll always be near if you need me. Besides. new toys to play with in your hands. You don't need me looking over your shoulder."

[torgawl]

crack theory: what if the abyss twin isn't a descender because they're an ascender?