#I love that stupid tank car

[notrobinsomethingworse]

Everybody know the scene in The Dark Knight where some idiot dresses like Batman and Bruce gets real pissed at him. Well it goes a little something like this:

Copycat Batman: What’s the difference between you and me!?

Batman: I’m not wearing hockey pads.

Alternatively:

Copycat Nightwing: What’s the difference between you and me!?

Nightwing: CAN YOU DO THIS? *insane quadruple flip off the roof with his middle finger out.*

Obviously not Red Hood: What’s the difference between you and me!?

Red Hood: I died.

Copycat Red Hood, mumbling: well obviously not.

Red Hood, cocking his gun: Wanna change that?

Copycat Red Robin: What’s the difference between you and me!?

Red Robin: Spandex isn’t usually something I wear on the regular. And that latex cowl isn’t doing you any favours either. While we’re at it- [proceeds to roast the shit out of the copycat until they’re begging him to stop. He doesn’t.]

Copycat Robin: What’s the difference between you and me!?

Robin, unsheathing his Katana: Run.

Copycat Robin: What?

Robin: If you care for your life you will know to flee. I will not give you another warning.

[gumii-bearr]

thinking about... ❝ roommates ❞

featuring... megumi fushiguro

content warning: MDNI (18+), roommate!megumi, megumi is bad at feelings (who is surprised), subtle!alt!megumi, dick piercing (what who said that??), fingering, blowjob, alcohol

author's note: i freaking love this anon so i'm doing a drabble while i write the megumi car sex fic

── roommate!megumi who is super cold and dismissive when you first move in. you needed a place for college and your friend hooked it up but she neglected to tell you he was fucking hot.

── roommate!megumi barely talks to you, and when he does, it's brief and short and makes you think he hates you for some reason. but what you're really annoyed about is how attractive he is and he gives you nothing.

── roommate!megumi who is so fucking hot when he's fixing the sink or when he casually mentions your car is making a weird sound and he fixes it like it's nothing and shit– he takes his shirt off to wipe the grease off his hands and the man is sex on a stick with ink adorning his body like some kind of emo greek god.

── roommate!megumi who comes back from the gym in compression shirts and low hanging sweatpants and you're trying to focus on your college assignment but he's being really distracting when he lifts the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face, showing off his sculpted abs.

── you're starting to think he's doing it on purpose when he wordlessly brings you takeout or offers to drive you to campus when it's raining because "driving in this weather would be fucking stupid."

── but things are still weird between you and roommate!megumi because even tho he can be strangely considerate, he's also impossible to read. that is why you buy him a fancy bottle of liquor to thank him for letting you stay in the spare room.

── roommate!megumi who loosens up after a little alcohol, take out and movies, the two of you talking and drinking until well into the night.

── roommate!megumi who gets a little bold, moving some of your hair out of your face and telling you that you're cute when you get flustered because he's not dumb, he sees your sly glances and how you choke on air when he walks into the kitchen without a shirt on.

── but also roommate!megumi who is just as fucking guilty of checking you out when you come home from the club with your friends in a tiny fucking dress and heels, or when you lounge around in the tiniest shorts he's ever seen and a tight tank top.

── you operating on liquid courage and finally admitting that you find him pretty hot, "you gotta know i'm into you by now, fushiguro."

── roommate!megumi who thinks you're so cute, "yeah, i can tell." and he's running his thumb over your lips and suddenly you two are tipsy and clumsily making out on the couch.

── roommate!megumi who is so handsy, groping your tits through your shirt, grabbing at the flesh of your ass over your flimsy pyjama pants and manhandling you into his lap to grab at your hips and pull your shirt over your head.

── roommate!megumi who always wears rings on his fingers and they're so cold against your warm skin as he plays with your tits and pushes his hand down your panties.

── roommate!megumi who gets you off on his fingers alone while you whine and hump against his hard-on.

── and roommate!megumi who presses his fingers against your tongue until you suck his fingers clean of your arousal.

── and now you're sliding down his body until you're perched between his legs on your knees, his fingers tangling in your hair as he chuckles at your still quivering legs and hands as you reach for his hard cock in his boxers.

── and of course, roommate!megumi who has a secret frenum piercing. a cute silver barbell staring you dead in the eyes.

── and while you're beyond intimidated, you're fucking salivating at the idea of having him down your throat, but knowing you, you've always gotta be a teasing smart ass, "didn't take you for a jewellery kinda guy, megumi."

── roommate!megumi who chuckles lowly and sits back, "piercing isn't for me, baby."

── roommate!megumi who quickly becomes your scary dog privilege boyfriend and fucks you against every surface in your apartment like his life fucking depends on it.

author's note: and they were roommates (p.s. should i make this a series?? cus he got me feelin some typa wayyy)

[bkgsdoll]

🍮⠀⠀ notes: popular!bakugou x nerdy!reader, fluffy, college au ‿ ୧ 🍡⠀ word count: 839

everyone's either in love with bakugou or wants to be him. he always has people bombarding him with questions about his quirk or trying to get close to him. he doesnt mind the attention. bakugou carries a large amount of pride that comes along with his popularity. he's worshipped, always walking the halls with people following him.

but then theres you. a silent girl in most of his classes. you keep to yourself in your own little world for the most part with very few close friends. your seat is in front of bakugou in all of your shared lectures, and you never bothered him, not once. truth be told, he never really thought about you until a specific night.

slamming his friend's car door shut, bakugou grumbles, "you idiots." he wasted yet another good night for studying. he threw it away by partying with people he didn't even find interesting. gosh, it's already 10:30. he wouldn't be able to stay awake. but he can't just go to sleep! nono, exams are too close. he needs glue all of the information he can into his brain. kirishima had recommended getting a study buddy-- who the hell would want to actually study with bakugou?? the girls would be distracted by his "huge muscles" and "unique hair" while any guys would be begging to see his quirk in action.

fuck this! katsuki doesn't need anyones help.

that confident thought bubble changes as he walks up the stairs to the dormitories. he remembers that quiet dork in most of his classes.. you seem pretty normal for the most part. a bit of a nerd too, so he wouldn't be worried about you having the wrong shit written down. with an ashamed grunt, he decides to find your dorm.

you munch on freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, going over notes you'd gotten from yesterday's lecture. you tiredly lean back against your chair in a tiny tank top and shorts with your hair up in a claw clip. you're slightly bopping your head to the quiet music playing in the background when you hear heavy thuds of someone walking towards your room. you perk up when said person knocks on your door softly. you happily smile, thinking maybe one of your friends are stopping by. excited you made so many cookies, you hurry to the door and swing it open.

with his hands dug into his pockets and drained frown, the katsuki bakugou stands at your door.. odd. "oh!" you squealed, your hand covering your mouth. "sorry, just-- wasn't expecting you." you nervously rub your arm, leaning against the door frame.

he lazily raises an eyebrow in curiosity. "you expectin' someone?"

you shake your head. "nope.." you mutter with an awkward smile. bakugou eyes you up and down quickly, quietly clearing his throat at the small amount of clothing adorning your body. you bite your lip embarrassedly while averting your gaze. "you wanna come in?" you chirp, stepping to the side. he lets out a soft hum of confirmation, taking big strides into your dorm before you shut the door behind him. he walks over to your desk to observe your neatly written notes. "i need someone to study with-- you aren't stupid or anythin' right?" he cocks a brow, turning his head to look at you.

you hum lightly. "mm no, i dont think so.."

the scruffy boy plops down in your heart-shaped chair, flipping through the pages you had spent such precious time working on. you fiddle with your fingers shyly, biting the inside of your cheek as you watch bakugou. "..do you want a cookie?" you politely ask, pointing towards the plate on your desk, walking towards him. his head turned to where your finger was pointing.

his eyes flicker to the plate, hesitantly taking a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie and biting into it. it was soft and chewy-- and warm. his crimson eyes brighten a little, just a little. "'s not bad. would be better with coffee." he stares at the bitten cookie, cupping his other under the treat, careful not to make a mess. your bubbly self returns, offering a sweet smile. "coffee coming up!"

that day was the first of many of you and katsuki spending time together. you were never around people too often, yet alone someone as popular and liked as bakugou. and as for him, he thought you were decently likeable. you made him feel good about himself without talking about his quirk or giant pecs. you also never asked if he had a girlfriend or if he was free next friday night. you were just you.

you had talked more than he anticipated. that night, bakugou found himself quiet while you blabbed about whatever came into your head, and he didn't mind it at all. even after that study session and hanging out numerous times, you're still that one quiet nerd in the classroom. only he gets to see the chatty side of you-- and he likes that. makes him feel special.

[lynnieverse]

fresh out the slammer // rafe cameron

oneshot

first love!rafe cameron x heartbroken!reader

synopsis: you just ended things with your boyfriend and find yourself driving to the only person you'd ever called home...

𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚, 𝒊'𝒎 𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖…𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒉 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓, 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒐...

♡

The rain pelted against the windshield in waves as you white-knuckled the steering wheel. Deep breaths kept the sobs at bay, but they still clawed at your throat. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid, you thought. How could it have taken so long to leave?

The soft melody of a familiar tune began, causing you to shakily twist the volume knob, letting the lyrics wash over the ache. 

Another summer taking cover, rolling thunder, he don’t understand me…

He never did. Never would. 

Flashes of awkward conversations and forced laughter blurred together, a montage of things left unsaid.

Splintered back in winter, silent dinners, bitter, He was with her in dreams…

A tear trailed down, taking you back to the moment everything changed. The front door swinging open, the stupid excitement bubbling in your chest, the bright smile that disappeared the second the bedroom door cracked open. 

Him. Her. Together. 

Her breathy moans echoed in the back of your mind. Seeing his face contorted in pleasure as you watched, horrified. Your name had been on his lips that morning. Hers was now.

And now here you were—alone, cold, licking wounds all the way back to the place you swore never to return. You’d moved away for a reason, trading in the tight-knit community for big city life. You thought it’d be good for your writing, getting new life experience and being close to the big publishing houses. 

You’d left OBX in the dust, gone, never to be seen again. Except here you were, on your way back after your whole life blew up in a matter of hours. 

The thought of dragging yourself back to the front door of your parents’ house made bile rise to the back of your throat. Mom’s pity. Dad’s quiet disappointment. No, that wasn’t an option. Not yet.  

Before the decision had fully processed, the car veered down a familiar street. Your heart pounded harder with every turn, every streetlight leading you back to him. 

Then, there it was. 

The nerves started then, going haywire. The car eased to a stop by the mailbox.

One knock away. 

Fuck.

He probably wouldn’t even want to see you. 

The stone steps were slick with rainfall as you approached, the tiny droplets seeping through the thin fabric of your shirt. You’re shivering as you raise your fist to the door. 

Tap tap tap. 

You waited for what felt like years, arms crossed over your stomach. Suddenly, the door swung open, and there he stood. Your eyes rake over his figure, taking in the low-hanging sweatpants and black tank top. He’d been working out, muscles more defined than you remembered. But his face, his eyes, they were the same. 

His mouth parted slightly, surprise evident as he stared, like he was unsure if he could trust his own eyes. A beat of silence stretched between you. Then another…and another. Doubt clouded your mind, embarrassment creeped in. Your voice trembled, barely above a whisper. 

“I…I’m sorry. This was stupid, I should go.” You turn around on your heel and start jogging back to the car, eager to get out of the rain, and away from Rafe. You’re almost at the end of the driveway when a warm hand encloses around your wrist, pulling you to a stop. 

“Wait,” his soft voice pleads. You close your eyes at the sound, having missed it all these years. When you turn around, he’s close enough that his face is inches from yours. Muscle memory begs you to pull him closer, to feel his skin and taste his lips. The water had soaked you both to the bone by now, causing full body shakes. Rafe wordlessly pulls you back to the front door, urging you through the threshold and into the dryness of the mud room. 

Droplets dripped from the stringy strands of hair cascading down your back, a small puddle forming. Rafe disappeared for a moment before returning with two towels, draping one over your shoulders. His hands linger for a moment, like he wants to touch you, pull you in, but he doesn’t. You hug the soft material close, looking up and watching him dry off. 

“Come on, I’ll get you some clothes.” You follow him up the stairs, knowing the route like the back of your hand, before stopping in his doorway. It felt weird being in his space again, almost taboo, but one wave of his hand had you by his side in a heartbeat. He stacked sweatpants and a hoodie in your arms, and left you alone to change, closing the door behind him. 

You marvel at how things have changed; the old Rafe would have never kept this clean of a room. Even his bed was made. Shaking your head you strip, toweling off and forcing the large hoodie over your head. It smelled like him. Sandalwood and whiskey. Intoxicating. 

The sweatpants were a little long, and you have to tie them pretty tight, but they fit, instantly warming up your goosebump ridden legs. When you swing his bedroom door open, Rafe looks up. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, and in dry clothes. He looks you up and down, something flashing in his eyes, before clearing his throat. 

“So…” 

You break eye contact, suddenly all that embarrassment flooding back. “I didn’t know if you’d want to see me,” you mumble. He moves, standing right in front of you. Gripping your chin, he tilts your head up, forcing you to keep eye contact.  

“Of course I want to see you, baby. Why wouldn’t I?” His voice is quiet, careful, like the answer might break him. That name. You hadn’t heard it in so long, not from his lips. “I thought you’d never come back.” The sadness in his voice, the way his hands moved to caress your cheeks…it was too much. All at once, the dam broke. Your broken sobs fill the silent hallway, tears soaking your cheeks. Without hesitation he wraps you in his arms, resting his chin atop your head. 

You’d been locked away for so long, judgement clouded by the perfect fantasy life you’d built up in your head. You thought you were happy, but then why was he swirled into all of your poems? He had always been your muse, and that never changed no matter how far you strayed. You nearly laughed at how blind you’d been. But you did your time, and ran back home. To him. Rafe. The arms tightly wrapped around you confirmed what you already knew––you should have never left. 

So you let him lift you up, wrap your legs around his torso, and carry you to his bed. You both know a conversation is well overdue, but at this moment, nothing else matters. You have each other, and everything’s going to be alright. 

[moviestarmartini]

en la ciudad de la furia. - franco colapinto x reader

me dejarás dormir al amanecer / entre tus piernas / sabrás ocultarme bien y desaparecer / entre la niebla.

summary: franco can't sleep before sunday's race. good thing his best friend is there to help him relax.

wc: 2.1k

warnings: sentences in spanish during conversations, fwb!franco, la ciudad de la furia es baku in this case rip, nsfw (18+), praise, just one (1) degrading word, p in v, unprotected sex (don't. that is a threat.), creampie, happy ending.

A/N: not enough franco fics so i had to pull a thanos and do it myself. enjoy lovelies and shoutout a mi AMIGA PERSONAL @notsomuchtosay for helping me pick the song

now playing... en la cuidad de la furia by soda stereo

Azul.

A sky Franco couldn’t normally look up to even if he tried, settled in different hues of royal blue, similar to the ones in the car he started driving around two weeks ago. The shiny buildings of the city now stood enveloped in a darker hue, the fact it was somewhere close five AM could attribute to that. 

“Hey,” Your hoarse voice caught him off guard. 

Your relationship was something neither of you had sat down to ponder about or discuss. Best friends was where you left it around a year ago. There had been no discussions after the first time you slept together, understanding well enough you wanted to continue with the arrangement… acting as close friends and satiating the thirst that only seemed to grow with time. 

“Nervous?” You asked quietly, walking up to his side and hugging him, your hand pushing his head gently to rest against your midriff. 

“Yeah.” He spoke, his voice coming out deeper than he would’ve thought; he slept for a few hours before sitting by the balcony window, pondering. The mental turmoil swallowed him enough to process the voice inside his head as one from his ownership, speaking into existence the anxious thoughts electrifying every nerve in his body. 

“You did amazing at qualifying, I’m sure the race will be nothing short of great.” Though sloppy, his movements were sly, the arm making your knee joints to fold positioned you in his lap. 

“I hope so.” Franco could only find to respond, not wanting to exhaust you as he did with himself with all the thoughts. He could now formulate your voice against the interim, making him notice how utterly stupid he sounded. 

It would be so much worse if he actually said it out loud. 

“The city looks so beautiful like this.” You commented, turning your head to look where you found him staring. 

“Hermosa estás vos,” Franco replied without missing a beat, pressing a kiss to your cheek. The laugh that bubbled out of your stomach was the reason he went against your orders to stop flirting with you. 

“Baboso.” Instead of shoving him away as usual, you nestled closer to his bare chest, your body covered by just a tank and your underwear. You were still warm from your place under the thick duvet, prompting him to pull you even closer, temporarily promoting you from his friend with benefit to his personal heater. 

The two of you stayed in comfortable silence, the sight of the city sparkling was mesmerizing. You could feel your eyes starting to flutter close, up until you heard him let out a fretful sigh.

“What is it?” You turned back to him. 

“Nothing,” He insisted, but the way his eyes shifted to the side told you otherwise. 

You shifted in his lap, placing a leg on each side in order to turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck loosely. 

“Don’t overthink it.” You insisted, getting another big sigh out of him.

“I’m not,” Yet again his eyes couldn’t stay on yours. From the corner of his eye he could identify the way you looked at him, prodding him for an answer. 

“Es… difícil, ¿sabés? Me ha ido tan bien que no me lo creo y me da miedo cagarla.” It felt a pressure had been lifted off his chest, but the weight of an entire country still rested on his back. 

“Fear is normal,” You started, brushing the light curls away from his forehead. “Todo esto no es ni será fácil, Fran. Lo importante es que estás aquí cumpliendo el sueño tuyo y de muchos. And you’ve got an amazing support system.” The last part came out a bit cheeky, enough to squeeze a genuine laugh out of him, the type that made your stomach tickle.  

By the way he sunk into the chair and embraced you, told everything you needed to know. The sigh he left out was one of relief, contempt. You thought everything was going to be more than alright, and in your mind, you could hear the bed chanting your names again. 

”Honestly I’m still a bit tense,” He spoke up, making you pull away from the place you’d made a home in the crook of his neck.

You found his eyes sparkling with mischief, your replying with confusion, brows softly furrowed adding onto the non-verbal conversation. 

“I think I need a little something to relax,” His fingers caressing your upper thigh made your breath hitch, neither brave enough to break eye contact as they ventured further into the supple skin, the knuckle pressed against the thin cotton provoked a pool of saliva to be roughly swallowed down your throat. 

There was nothing needing to be said. 

What usually infuriated you— how he could talk for hours, but rarely about things that truly mattered— turned into one of your favorite things the second that switch flipped from friends to the benefits side of it. 

The arms loosely around his neck drew closer to attract his lips into yours, and he fell right into that trap. Even with morning breath, he found the taste of your mouth to be so sweet, his fingers tracing their way to the plush skin he liked holding onto a little too much. 

“You can’t expect me to sit still when you’re wearing those panties.” His voice causes goosebumps to form on the wake of his fingers kneading the curve of your ass, the roughness gave you the idea to take initiative and start grinding your hips, cohering a groan out of his lips soon after. 

“Sigue así,” He praised, hot breath against your neck before he started tracing the same kisses he deposited just hours earlier. 

He knew you too well, he could squeeze out moans with just a kiss or a swift touch. But it only motivated you to shift your hips faster, finding relief in grinding against the hard bulge covered by his boxers. 

“Seguro estás toda mojadita ya,” A hand clasped on your jaw, and you knew he wanted a verbal answer. 

“Y-yeah,” You circled your hips, making him throw his head back. You were both so lost in it, he was fumbling around to remove both the items that were a bit too unnecessary. 

Until the chair cracked under you. 

You stared at each other in a panic before bursting out in laughter, not taking the distraction— or warning— as a turn off. He lightly patted your ass, signaling you to get up. 

You took the hint, taking a few slow steps before your body requested you to stretch, a yawn following after. You felt his eyes on you, expecting it to be some non-innocent ogling, until you were swept off your feet and landed on the bed with him on your back. 

“Idiota!” You cackled once you pulled your face away from the mattress, your insult going right over his head from his laughter echoing in the walls of the shared hotel room. 

You turned to look at him, any anger you could’ve withheld disappearing in an instant. If you could, you would wipe out ten cars off the grid so he could be in the points and enjoy more time of his elation. 

“¿Qué pensás?” Franco interrupted you not even a minute later, climbing further onto the bed, kissing your bare shoulder. He toyed with the hem of the tank, and you quickly pulled it over your head. 

To the royal blue was added a gradient to transition into cyan, and you guessed it was nearing six AM, and the sun was preparing its triumphant return with the addition of yellow into the sky. 

“I would do anything to hear your laugh every day.” You admitted truthfully, reaching back to kiss him. 

There was something different about this kiss compared to the ones you shared before. It was slow, careful. It said things you didn’t even want to believe until they materialized into words. 

“You’re the reason for it ninety percent of the time.” He placed more kisses on your shoulder, tracing them down your spine and right back up. 

“You don’t mean it.” You could admit freely for the first time. You knew there had to be more to it. There had to be someone else to it. 

In another element of surprise, Franco flipped you to lay on your back; he usually liked intimacy with you laying on your stomach, the appeal of seeing your ass bounce against his own body overtook every other request either of you might have. 

You watched as he climbed on top of you, pulling you into another of those kisses, making your knees weak. 

“You know you gave me luck today, right?” He whispered in your ear before pressing a kiss on the shell, holding you close to his chest. 

”It’s nothing,” You laugh, watching how his expression dropped ever so slightly at your refusal to accept his advances. “That’s what friends do, right?” 

There wasn’t even time for you to process that, a rough make out session ensued, and he fumbled around to remove his only item of clothing— his underwear. You followed his lead eagerly, thinking all was forgotten and it was yet another thing to be chucked in the pile of things he wouldn’t discuss upfront. 

You let your body do the talking, leaning into his touch, moans leaving your lips with every stimulating touch to that already swollen nub due to your arousal. His hands guided your legs to wrap around his waist, placing them at a perfect angle, one you would find to enjoy when his length slid in easily. 

“Relaxed now?” You sassed, panting before he would start thrusting. Each slow stroke was driving you insane, nails digging into his back, moans filling the room lacking the background noise of an active city. 

“Fran, fran.” You moaned, patting him on the shoulder. “What’s wrong? You’re not saying anything.” 

“Vos sos mía, ¿entendés?” A hand cupped your jaw, your eyes meeting his. “Friends don’t stare into each other’s eyes while they fuck; you’re mine.” 

The correction was rather harsh, he had to be self aware and admit so. Or he believed until he saw a smile rise to your lips, the bottom one tucking between the pearly whites when your moans became more high pitched from the speed. 

You now understood the changes; the change of position, the change in how much passion oozed his lips against yours. It had taken him a while, considering you were clear about your feelings about a month or so of the arrangement. 

“¿Por qué sonríes, eh putita?” He degraded, only making the corners of your smile rise further up your cheeks, moans still leaving from the back of your throat. 

By his frantic moments you could deduce he wasn’t going to last long, but neither would you. The last few days had been exhausting in different aspects, your sexual activity included. 

His face looked stunning under the dim light that shone from the window, highlighting each freckle your fingers could trace. You pulled him into a kiss, your lips doing the talking now. 

He pulled back, an expression of mixed up confusion and hope. You pulled him down, brushing your nose against his before creating enough space to look into each other’s eyes. 

“Te amo. Por ti voy hasta la Antártida a verte correr.” 

The sudden change in pace and attention to detail had you gasping, your mind letting go of the preoccupation of his lack of a verbal answer. He threw one of your legs over his shoulder, a hand sneaking down to toy with your clit. 

Your nails dug into his bicep, eyes falling shut from the pleasure. 

“Así, así.” He encouraged you when he felt the warmth enveloping deliciously tighten around him. 

A chant of his name coming straight to heaven— in his books— filled the room, letting you ride out your orgasm before letting your leg back on its original place by his hips, leaning down in the same way you had pulled him just moments ago. 

“Yo también te amo. Por vos corro hasta en la Antártida.” You were back in your right mind to understand him completely, the way you gave him a sloppy kiss proved it.

The revelating feeling seemed to be enough to push him off the edge, panting I love yous and other praises before he collapsed on top of you. 

You kissed his shoulder gently, brushing his hair with a soothing intent. 

“Better?” You questioned after a little while and he replied with obnoxious loud snoring, clearly faked. 

Hopefully in the morning you would actually get to talk about this. But now, you were more than fine to get a kiss on the forehead and have the blinds drawn shut to continue your slumber snuggled up to him. 

[teapartyprincess4two]

Messy- J. Webber

pairing: Waitress!reader x Mechanic!Jake

classification: SMUT SMUT NO FLUFF

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex, messy sex, public sex, facial, cream pie, cursing

inspiration: request

summary: Jake is a regular customer at the diner you work at, eating the same meal everyday before returning back to work. One day, when you’re taking his order, you can tell he has much more sinful intentions than a quick meal.

—

The diner is slow today, it always is on Sundays. You’ve had a total of 5 customers and it’s already past noon, making the day feel endless. You’re currently messing with the fryer in the kitchen. It turned off suddenly and now it won’t turn back on. “Stupid fucking fryer,” you grumble, clicking random buttons until it finally starts heating.

Suddenly the front doorbell rings, indicating a customer has entered the lobby. “Hello! I’ll be right with you!” you call out from the kitchen, peering your head over the order window to catch a glimpse of the customers. You instantly recognize that it’s Jake, he’s a regular customer and arrives everyday at exactly 12:30pm without fail.

Jake saunters in, dirty and sweaty from a hard days work. He works at an automotive repair shop that sits right on the corner of the street, choosing your diner everyday as his preferred dining spot. The walk from his car shop isn’t long, but he always leaves early so he misses the lunch rush.

Because he’s such a frequent customer, Jake knows the diner well, so he situates himself in the booth that gives him the best view of the kitchen. When he first started eating here, he realized that this booth provided him with a cinema worthy experience because he could watch you work as he enjoyed his meal.

You emerge from the kitchen with a big smile on your face, walking around the front counter and over to Jake’s table. “Can’t get enough of this place, huh?” you joke, retrieving a small notebook and ball point pen from the depths of your apron.

“Guess so,” Jake replies with a chuckle, folding his dirty hands over the table. They’re permanently stained with car oil, calloused by countless hours of manual labor. Your eyes travel from his broad, tattooed shoulders down to his folded arms, relishing in the way his sweat glistens in the sun that trickles in through the window. His white tank top is adorned with black smudges and stains, ripped and frayed along the edges. There’s dirt under his fingernails, a detail that you’d usually find disturbing, but it adds even more grit to Jake. You love the idea of being fucked by a hard working man who isn’t afraid to get dirty.

Jake’s messy look completely juxtaposes yours. You’re wearing your diner uniform, clad in a pastel pink dress and an apron so white it reflected the sun. Your hair is curled and pinned back, a matching pink bow dangling in between your bouncy strands. Stark white sneakers sway back and forth, as you wait patiently for Jake to order. You looked so clean, too clean, and Jake wanted to roam his hands all over you and watch how messy you could really get.

“So, your usual?” you ask, knowing Jake’s order by heart. Over the course of his visits, you’ve learned that Jake is a simple man. He orders the same thing everyday and although the food was slightly above average, he claimed it was his favorite as an excuse to watch you work.

Jake loved watching as you diligently wiped down tables, your hips rocking back and forth as you worked the rag into tough, grimy spots. When you were mopping, he’d scoot closer to the edge of his seat and watch you bend over as you rung out the mop. He especially loves watching as you walked over to his booth with his meal in hand, because once you arrive to the table you bend over just enough to expose the top of your breasts.

“You know how I like it, baby,” the nickname slips out naturally, the flirtatious undertones evident in Jake’s voice. At first you would become flustered with his incessant flirting, but now that you’re used to it, you get turned on. You feel like a car engine, revved up and ready to fuck some miles into him.

“Alright, it’ll be right out,” you reply with a playful smile, shoving the notepad and pen back into your apron before making your way back to the kitchen. Your hips sway as you walk away, the string of your apron slapping against your ass with each step.

Jake’s eyes are glued to you, mentally undressing you from across the room. He’s really hungry now, but not for the food.

—

20 minutes have passed and you’re still not back with his food. Jake isn’t the type to complain, but he knows it never takes you this long. Loud beeping rings throughout the diner, followed by a loud yell from the kitchen, “Ow! Fuck!” Metal clangs on the floor shortly after, a string of cuss words coming from you.

Jake’s natural instinct is to get up and check on you, but you come out from the kitchen before he can act on it. You’re pressing a cold, wet towel on your hand, “Sorry, it’s gonna be a while. The fryer’s been acting up all day and it just turned off. I burnt myself trying to fix it, but I popped your fries in the oven instead, okay?”

Jake sees the opportunity and takes it, “No problem. I can take a look at it if you want?” He’s an extremely handy man, and he’s hoping to get handsy with you if he plays his cards right.

“At what?” you ask confused, applying pressure to your hand.

“The fryer. I can try to fix it. It’ll only take a few minutes,” he replies, using his hands to push himself out of the booth. Before you can protest, Jake begins walking to the kitchen. His dirty work boots leave a trail of footprints on the floor as you follow closely behind, trying to keep up with his long strides. He quickly finds the fryer, following the smell of gas until he locates the source.

“No, it’s okay! I’ll just put in a work order,” you reason, watching as he kneels in front of the machine. You were beginning to panic, no one other than employees were allowed in the kitchen. What if your boss suddenly showed up and found him back here? Not to mention how unsanitary it was for him to be touching everything with his soiled hands.

“Yeah? And when will they finally come fix it?”

The question has you stumped, causing you to think for a while. The maintenance men usually didn’t come until weeks after the initial work order was put in, and working without a fryer for that long sounded like actual hell. That didn’t mean you wanted a customer working while on their lunch break, “Probably a couple of weeks, but it’s okay. It’s not a big deal, really!”

Your words fall on deaf ears though because Jake is opening the fryer hatch, a whiff of cooking oil and gas hitting him straight in the face. From that smell alone he immediately knew the problem, “Yeah, see, the gas line isn’t connected. One stray spark and this whole place is blowing up.”

Jake’s used to working in much hotter temperatures, surrounded daily by the summer weather and even hotter car engines. So, although the fryer is emitting a lot of heat, it’s nothing compared to what he deals with daily. He manages to find the main gas line, turning the nob off to ensure there isn’t any other leaks. After that, he swiftly turns the machine off before unscrewing a hot, black tube. He pulls the black tube off with a grunt, causing a loud hissing noise as the last bits of gas spill out.

“How do you know it’s the gas line?” you ask curiously, blissfully unaware and nose blind to the smell. “The smell,” he replies blatantly, strong hands removing random pieces from the machine. Well they were random to you, but Jake seemed to know the purpose of each piece.

The oven dings faintly in the background, indicating that the fries are finally done baking. You would love to stay and watch his arms flex as he worked, but you didn’t want to cause another hazard, “I’ll be back, those are the fries. I don’t want them to burn.”

He hums in response, the sound being followed by another animalistic grunt. You feel your core clench at the sound, there was something about him that made you want to push him to the ground and get messy.

You force yourself to look away, finally walking over to the oven to retrieve the fries before they burn.

—

The fryer was worse than either of you anticipated, causing Jake to spend more than a ‘few minutes’ working on it. He’s lying face up on the floor to get a better view, a broken down cardboard box is sprawled out under him to serve as a cushion and as a barrier from the cold floor.

Luckily you’ve only had one other customer since then and all they ordered was a drink, so you’ve been able to watch Jake work this entire time. Your pussy is throbbing at the possibilities, your mind delving into uncharted territory as you imagine what he’d look like under you.

Jake’s hips buck upward as he adjust himself, pushing himself further into the machine each time. Your eyes fall onto his crotch every time, you can’t help but stare and salivate at the growing bulge. He knows you’re watching and it’s turning him on.

“Here, hold this piece right… there,” he instructs, voice trailing off as his fingers pinch a wire in place. You comply, scooting closer so you can properly hold the wire in place. The position is uncomfortable though, your legs struggling to remain in place as you try not to fall on Jake.

After a while your legs start to hurt, trembling from the constant strain. “I can’t reach,” you explain, attempting to shift your weight so you’re comfortable.

Jake lifts his head up, careful not to hit it against the metal above him, as he peers at you. You were awkwardly reaching over him, one hand gripping onto the edge of the fryer as the other stretched to properly hold the wire in place. He looks down at your legs, watching as they shake before he accidentally catches a glimpse of your underwear.

“Here, just…” he begins to say, forgetting his sentence as his mind fills with sinful thoughts of you. He places his tools on the ground before taking a hold of your waist, dirty fingerprints immediately soaking into the fabric of your dress. He uses his hands to carefully guide you over him, stopping once you’re situated directly above his crotch.

“Try again,” he instructs, forcing himself to think about anything other than the newfound pressure you’re applying to him. You reposition the wire with your right hand, your left hand resting on Jake’s chest for support. Once the wire is in place, he scoots forward, his hips bucking up again as he does it. The rough material of his jeans rubs against your clothed pussy, causing you to squirm from above him. You’re forced to bite back a whine, realizing that this was not the time nor the place to be getting all riled up.

Jake is extremely concentrated, choosing to ignore the growing erection in his pants. “Hand me the pliers,” he says, but it comes out more like a command. His toolbox sits next to you, the short distance being close enough for you rummage through it quickly. You subconsciously grind down on his crotch, surprised to feel the outline of his dick through the thick material of his jeans.

His hands instinctively travel to your hips again, a firm grip willing you to stop your movements. “Sorry,” you murmur, becoming drunk on the idea of Jake fucking you long and hard on the kitchen floor.

Jake lets out a small groan, the innocence in your voice seducing him even further. “Here,” you whisper, eyes locking with his for a second through your long, thick eyelashes. He takes the pliers from you, forcing himself to return to the task at hand.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

You squirm from above him, wiggling so you can feel him again. Usually you wouldn’t be this bold, but your pussy is hungry and your mind is drunk. Jake chases the feeling too, wishing there was nothing to restrict him from feeling you entirely.

“Don’t look at you like what?”

“Like you want to fuck me,” he replies sternly, the heels of his boots digging into the floor as he drags himself out from under the fryer. The cardboard makes it easier for him to slide out and he’s strong enough to bring you with him, eliciting a gasp from you as you place your hands on his chest to anchor yourself.

He sits up, his left arm immediately wrapping around your waist in the process. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, princess,” he smirks, pushing you down onto his crotch.

Your hands gingerly rest on his shoulders as you look at him through hooded eyes, were you really going to do this? The sexual tension is blinding you, causing you to make yet another bold remark.

“What if I do want to fuck you?”

“That’s fine, baby. Just don’t complain when it gets messy,” he replies coyly, pulling you further into him. Jake’s plump lips latch onto yours, metal lip rings digging into your face. The pain only eggs you on, your hands traveling up his neck and tangling into his hair.

“So eager,” he murmurs into the kiss, scrunching your dress up around your abdomen. His hands find your ass, slapping and kneading the skin in his firm grip. Moans are slipping from you, all of them being swallowed by Jake as he hungrily kisses you back. Your hips grind onto him again, desperate for release.

You’re whimpering, trying to feel as much of him as possible through the multiple layers of fabric that separate you. “Patience, baby,” he moans, but even he’s becoming impatient.

It comes to no surprise when you scoot back onto his thigh and feverishly unzip his pants, he doesn’t protest either, instead he watches eagerly. You make swift work of his pants, Jake lifts his hips to help you tug them off. “I want you to make a mess on my face,” you whisper, hopping off of Jake’s lap so you can wiggle further down.

The suggestion makes Jake’s dick twitch, precum spilling out from the tip and soaking into his boxers. You pull his boxers down and they pool around his ankles alongside his pants. His dick stands up straight, and it’s so big you begin to wonder if this was a good idea. How was that supposed to fit inside of you?

Jake knows exactly what you’re thinking, smirking at the sight of you gawking over the size of his cock. You’re brave though, so you crawl closer to him and slowly begin pumping his shaft. His head is immediately thrown back in pleasure, your touch alone almost being enough for him to spill his seed onto your hand.

You wrap your lips around the tip, your head inching down to the base slowly. If you go any faster, you’ll surely gag around his cock and start crying. “Just like that,” he groans, swooping some of your hair out of your face with one hand as the other holds his dick in place for you. Your lips kiss his hand as you take as much of his as possible, your throat struggling to keep up with the sheer size of him.

His hips thrust into your mouth, eliciting a gag from you that flips a switch in Jake. He wants to hear that sound again and again, so he holds your head firmly and guides it up and down his cock repeatedly. Each time you reach the tip, you gasp for air before he’s pushing you back down again. Saliva is dripping down your chin and bubbling at the corners of your mouth, tricking far enough to coat Jake’s penis entirely.

“Making such a big mess, beautiful,” he grunts, pulling you away from him to get a better look at your face. Streaks of mascara run down your face, your hair is all over the place, and saliva is actively dribbling down your chin. “Come here, let me ruin you,” he instructs, pulling you back down so he can coat your face and uniform in his cum.

He pumps his cock aggressively over your face, watching with a slack jaw as you close your eyes and allow his cum to paint your face. You’re glazed in the liquid, squealing slightly at the new sensation. “Yummy,” you giggle, licking your lips to gather as much of it on your tongue as possible.

Jake isn’t done though, he’s fully prepared to go another round with you, but this time with his dick balls deep in you. Right as you’re about to continue, you hear the front doorbell ring.

“Hello?” a customer asks, peering over the counter in search of an employee. Luckily, because you’re on the floor, you’re perfectly out of view. Jake gets an idea, immediately pulling you onto his lap and pushing your panties to the side so aggressively they rip.

“Sit,” he commands, aligning his cock with your entrance. You look at him in shock and whisper shout, “there’s a customer!” He’s unrelenting, dragging the tip of his cock up your folds as a response. You bite your lip, accepting the challenge as you sit on his thick dick.

A small gasp escapes your mouth once you bottom out, the girth of his cock stretching your walls.

“Hello? Anybody there?!” The customer shouts, tiptoeing to see behind the order window and into the kitchen. They’re becoming more and more impatient by the second.

You begin bouncing on Jake’s dick, his hands leaving prints all over your dress. You’re a whimpering mess, the stretch being both pleasureful and painful.

“C’mon, princess, is anybody there?” he taunts, sucking on the skin of your neck. You pull him in closer by his neck, moaning into his ear as quietly as possible.

“I just want a coffee!” the customer pleads, still trying to find at least one employee. Jake slaps your ass, silently instructing you to respond.

“Take a seat! I’ll be right with you,” you squeak out, trying not to sound like you’re getting your brains fucked out. Jake is satisfied with your response, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you down harder on him.

“You’re making me wait for a coffee?!”

Jake’s angles you forward so he can fuck you harder, his head resting on your chest. “I’m fixing the- fuck,” you begin, but Jake hits a spot inside of you that has you clenching around him. “What are you fixing?” Jake questions, loving how flustered you are.

“I’m fixing the fryer,” you spew out, the lame excuse annoying the customer further. The euphoric feeling in your pussy is enough to wash away any anxiety you feel, your walls clenching around Jake with each thrust.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he moans, his orgasm from earlier catching up to him. “Cum in me,” you demand, so drunk off his dick that you don’t realize what you said. The idea is enticing, so enticing that Jake doesn’t second guess it either.

One last thrust has him spilling his hot seed inside of you, the warm feeling sending you over the edge shortly after.

“Just a coffee! UNBELIEVABLE.”

“I’m coming,” you yelp, as your orgasm washes over you. You’re whimpering, moaning, and panting as you convulse around Jake’s cock. The statement puts a smirk on his face, you were definitely coming.

Once you come down from your orgasm, Jake is pulling you off of him slowly. You look like a beautiful mess. White liquid drips from your hole down your thighs, your underwear is ripped, your dress is stained from Jake’s oily hands, streaks of mascara run down your cheeks, your face is coated in cum, and your hair is tangled.

“Go get him his coffee,” Jake teases, watching as you slowly realize how crazy you look right now. He slaps your ass one last time before you’re hopping off of him, adjusting your dress and smoothing your hair down haphazardly.

You grab a napkin, running it across your face as you try and clean yourself up as best as possible. It’s no use, you look a mess. Without another word, you’re stumbling out into the lobby.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

BARK BARK BARK

First Jake story

MeOWWWWW

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

[cupcakeinat0r]

Thinkin abt Dad Bod!Miguel…

Ft. Daddy, Praise, n Size kink!!! (Duh.)

[NSFW]

You leave the classroom after enduring the most stupid 3 hour 8am lecture that you needed for a stupid credit for the stupid degree that you cried and prayed for.

Your spirit is immediately lifted once you see your boyfie waiting outside of the building for you, the six-foot-nine man leaning against his car like a total poser. His burly arms are crossed, which makes his pecs bulge through his shirt even more. In your opinion, he fills out his button-up perfectly; the short sleeves barely able to contain his biceps, the hairs of his chest peeking out the first three open buttons… and his soft belly. Perfect for naps. You couldn’t see it from here, but you just knew his ass was lookin good in those jeans, too. You crash into his arms, kisses planted on your head. “Missed you today, mamita.” He mumbles into your hair. “Missed you more, baby. Now, please, take me home.”

You step in the house and face plant onto the couch. You could’ve fallen asleep right there, but you feel a breath on your ear, “Mamita, aye…”, you lift your head with a “hm?” toward the gentle voice, “Mama, ven a la cama… será mejor que’l sofá, beba… ven, ven…” you let out a small ‘Mph’ when you’re peeled off the couch. Miguel scoops you up bridle style, as if you were a feather, and takes you to the bedroom.

Once you sluggishly remove your clothes, down to your panties and tank top, you, again, face plant into what feels like heaven (your bed). Miguel goes to change so that he’s just wearing his boxers. He stops in front of the full-body mirror, looking at himself. His muscles are still there, but he isn’t too happy with what he sees, having gained some weight since being with you, but more importantly, he wonders if you think the same. Even a little bit.

You smile to yourself as you feel the stomach of your lover pressed against your back, wrapping you with his strong, hairy arms and entangling his thick legs with yours, cocooning you in a bundle of warmth. “Comfy, mamita?” He presses a tender kiss on your temple. You sleepily nod your head against the pillow, blissful in your position as little spoon. There’s a moment of peaceful silence as his calloused hand starts to affectionately rub your back under the tank top.

The thought still eats at him, though.

“Bebe…”

“hm?”

“Esta feliz conmigo?”

“What?” Your head snaps up toward him. There’s genuine concern in your voice.

“I love you, that’s no question, but if you want to have your college fun, you should be able to. I don't want you to miss out on experiences because of… me. ” You sit up now, looking at him with furrowed brows, “What’re you talking about?” He looks down at the bare skin of your thigh, a deep, discouraged sigh escaping his lips as his pointer finger caresses the skin there, “I just want you to be happy. More than anything.”

In one swift motion, you straddle him. “Missing what? Those dumb frat parties filled with little boys who wouldn’t know how to handle me? You’re so silly, baby.” You press a tongue-filled kiss on his lips, and a low growl erupts in his throat. “Ugh, I’d miss out on a million parties if it meant having all this.” You murmur against his lips before starting a trail of kisses down his torso, even with an occasional nibble, the warmth and hair of his skin meeting your lips the whole way down. You worshipped every inch of his thick body with your lips, all the way from his broad and hairy chest, his stretch marks, to his chubby midriff, down his mouth-watering happy trail, and finally to the hem of his boxers, where a bulge began to form.

You look up and give him a sultry look, “No college boy could ever compare to my fine ass hubby." His voice becomes strained, breath labored as you take your index finger and rub precise circles on his wet tip through his boxers, making him hiss. “fuck, mami… what did I do to deserve you? Eres una Bendicion, tu sabes?”, he caresses your cheek with his thumb, “Scored a fucking goddess… I’m so fuckin’ lucky. No sé cómo conseguí una mujer como tú..” he coos.

"And you’re so big n’ strong n’ handsome, Daddy. I love it.” Your voice combined with your touch made his dick twitch, his now angry tip slightly peeking out. You fail to fight back a small moan when you release his pretty cock from the confines of his boxers, it springing against his lower belly. Drool began to form in your mouth. You haven’t even tasted it and you were already cock drunk. “love this cock s’much…so perfect.” you mewl as you slowly begin pumping his cock. Miguel pathetically looks down at you; The prettiest girl in the world showing him the attention he doesn’t feel worthy of but oh so deserves. “Awe, You want daddy’s cock, don’t you, baby?” He tuts, his voice all sweet and pouty.

“Mhm,” you nod, a meek expression on your face.

“Let me show my man just how happy I am to be his.”

And any self-doubt that Miguel had about you being with him was poof! Gone.

*sighs* He sew cewt. Hope u liked it <3

Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!!

[ashen-char]

expensive cars never took me where you do

ship: anora mikheeva (anora) x gender neutral reader

summary: being a mechanic dating a stripper is hard because you never get to spend enough time together. so anora spends a day in your garage.

word count: 3000+

notes: requested here. enjoy!

With your respective jobs, your schedules don't allow much time to be together. Not much overlap when you're in the garage from 8-6 every week day, while Ani's out from 5pm to the late morning stripping. Weekends, your main time for relaxation, were HQ's busiest times. As such, you had to make the most of the time that you did get. No more meal prepping for Ani when she gets home, for example. You took it upon yourself to whip stuff up for her to take to work in her trusty Tupperware, saving you two some much-needed cuddle time. Plus, you loved the awed look on her face whenever you made her favourite meals, the way she'd dance and hum happily when you let her taste-test it.

The train blares its horn, rattling Ani's entire room as it passes by. Cheap rent, Ani had explained the first time you stayed over and jerked awake to the sound, startled by the sudden noise and movement. She hadn't even opened her eyes, just stayed cuddled up on your chest. She's used to it. Even after months of dating her, it wakes you up everytime, which makes Ani laugh, teasing and calling you 'Princess and the Pea' for being so sensitive. So right now you're wide awake, checking your phone to see if she'll be home soon.

wifey💕: on the subway now! keep the bed warm 💋

You smile, sending back a kiss of your own. "stay safe," you type.

It's 4am when Ani slips into the room. Her harsh expression (or resting bitch face as she sometimes refers to it as) softens when she sees you, and she quickly sheds her coat, scarf, and beanie as well. "Why are you still up, dummy? You're gonna fall asleep on the fuckin' job, I swear..." she chastises.

"Sorry, babe," you whisper, stretching and shifting over to your side of the bed to let Ani into the sheets. "I knew you were coming home soon is all. Wanted to see you come in."

Your sleep shirt, like most of your clothes really, has these distinct splotches of oil on them. Made worse by your bad habit of wiping your hands on whatever's around. After years in the garage, you've learned to not bother with trying to keep clothes looking clean. The very worst of them get turned into rags or purely as sleep clothes since you don't like wasting anything. 'Waste not, want not' is a deeply-rooted mantra from when you didn't have the money to dispose and replace things so easily.

"I'm just saying." Ani shrugs, slipping the rest of her clothes off too. Fluid in her movements, as if her commute clothes were made to be taken off just like her HQ attire.

Your eyes trail over her frame appreciatively, taking in the rose tattoo at her ribcage that makes you smile, or the slight muscle of her core and arms. She's fit. She needs to be to work the pole like that, but can't put on too much muscle to turn away the knuckleheads that frequent Headquarters. Stupid but it brings in the dough, as Ani would say.

"Don't blame me if you smash your finger in a door again 'cause you weren't paying attention," she says, giggling when she throws her tank top at you. You catch it, give it a deep sniff. "God, you're so gross!" Ani complains. There's that laugh you were looking for.

"I'm not that clumsy." You frown, but it's hard to keep on when she's giggling like that. "It just clipped me, I didn't lose a nail or anything."

After slipping one of your larger shirts on - which almost comically swallows up her frame - she finally slips in beside you. You kiss Ani's cheek, and let her cuddle into you. Even if you know you smell of grease and gasoline and she's gonna cuss at you and say you need a shower. Burrowing her nose into the crook of your neck, she inhales you deeply, letting your scent fill her lungs. With the way she hums, you know she's content. Soothed. Letting the night melt away, all the pressures of the club or the bullshit from Diamond. She doesn't have to be on, not when she's here with you.

"Some of your body glitter's still on ya," you tell her. Your finger dabs at the corner of Ani's neck, which must have been missed by her makeup wipes.

She shivers at the contact. You used to be insecure of the fact that your hands feel like sandpaper but Ani sure seems to love it. One time she told you it was weird that you've never seen her as 'Ani'. The way she is in the club, she meant. No makeup, no heels, no cute little outfits. Of course, she likes to glam up when you two do make the time to go out on dates, but it's not similar to what she puts on for the club. Doesn't have to think about balancing the right amount of cling to show off her assets with the ease of removal.

With you, Ani said she felt like the girl she was before all this. Before the club, before Vanya, before the glitter and glam. There's nothing sexy about your lives, really. Both of them working shit jobs, living paycheck to paycheck. But for some reason, she found it comforting.

"Well, I missed you."

She's so tired. Never enough sleep, always on the go. But your body is warm and solid and she can relax. Just for a bit. "I missed you too," she mumbles. "Even if you fuckin' stink or whatever."

Ani lifts her head to look at you, eyes soft. "What time you gotta be at work?

"In a few hours," you answer in a groan. You didn't want to be reminded of it. You hate leaving before she wakes up, hate the way her body always tries to cling to you by instinct. Feels wrong, even if you know it's necessary. "The new apprentice, Jon, he still needs to be trained. He keeps texting me dumb ass questions. Like, dude, change the oil, you don't need my permission!"

"Mm I getcha. Like sometimes I show new girls the ropes. I remember Lulu being the newbie once actually," your girlfriend shares. "Poor thing. She was scared shitless when she mixed up a song request and didn't know how to play it off like a pro yet."

Ani tells you about the 'fresh meat' sometimes, how they're usually gone within the month when they realise the gig's not their thing. Usually 18-21, the type of girls that got told they were pretty enough times to want to make some coin off of it but without any dance training to speak of. The established girls do their best to make the space inviting and fun. To guide them to the right classes, how to manoeuvre around the club and look impressive on the pole without getting hurt. But ultimately it's their choice. Leave or stay.

Mostly, your definition of 'training' is trying not to yell at the poor kid, unless it's a safety concern obviously. He's an idiot and fixing his mistakes is a pain in the ass, but you don't want him quitting. It'll be more annoying to find a replacement since you've already spent the last few months making sure he can do shit without your supervision. The garage is small, started off as a glorified chop shop that you converted with some friends,

You must have gotten lost in your thoughts for a while, because Anora laughs at your scowl and shoves you. "Geez, who pissed you off? You're not even listenin' to me now huh?" she complains from her spot on your chest.

"Sorry, sorry. Just the apprentice. Broke a 10mm bolt today."

"Boooo. Speak American. What the fuck is a millimeter." Her eyes roll at the excuse and the metric system, and her sheer... Anora-ness makes your bad mood lift and a smile crack.

Which is where the idea comes from. "Do you have any days off soon?" you ask.

Anora shrugs. "Yeah, this Thursday. Why?"

"I want you to visit the shop! Come on. Didn't you always say you wanted to come and 'see what I do all day'?"

Her nails scrape up your arms, and her words are mumbled and muffled against your chest. A vibrating sensation that tickles you. "What would I even do there though? No offense, I'm sure it's riveting, but you can't exactly entertain me if you're working. Plus, when I said I wanna visit I meant I wanted to drop in sometime, give you coffee or something. Not... what, sit there and look pretty?" Anora laughs at the image, shaking her head against you. It's clear she thinks she'll just be a burden if she comes, that she'll do more harm than good.

"For one, I'd be a lot less stressed explaining myself over and over to him if you were at the shop. I could pretend I'm explaining to you," you say, trying to convince her.

Honestly, the idea of Ani 'sitting there and looking pretty' has already won you over. Who wouldn't want their gorgeous girlfriend there to impress with their mad car skills? You've been dreaming of this moment since you were a teen, fixing up a rusted hunk of a truck. Looking back it's embarrassing, but you were convinced that if you got it up and running, your crush would've swooned and asked you to give her rides to school then and there. Explaining your passion to a beautiful girl, showing off your hard work and how you could help her... it's a fucking dream.

Anora giggles. "Oh, I'm sure. You just wanna flex your mechanic brain and your stupid sexy muscles." Tilting her head up, she flashes those big brown eyes at you and you're gone. She's so heartbreakingly perfect like this. No makeup, bags under her eyes, the natural pout of her lips. Tired, from all the hard work and effort she puts into everything she does.

"Come on, please?" you ask, tilting your head down in response so your forehead meets hers. Skin to skin, gaze to gaze. Her nose presses into yours. "I wanna spend more time with you. I wanna show you what I do. Bonus points that it'll help me not scare off the new kid."

Anora nods sagely, like it's a sacred task you're entrusting to her. Her arms wrap around your neck, keeping you pressed against her. She's definitely not complaining about how you smell now. "Alright, grease monkey. I wanna be wowed."

--

"OK, you might remember this one. That's what I attached my cables to when your car wouldn't start," you say, gesturing to the battery, particularly to the red end in case it looks familiar to her.

To you, it's unforgettable how the normally cool and confident Ani was shaking in her leather boots when you told her to clamp it. Like she thought she'd get electrocuted then and there. Anora grasped you so hard, and your heart thumped at the knowledge that she trusted you'd never let something bad happen to her.

Ani leans against the wall, watching you work under the hood of a car. Her arms are crossed, one foot kicked up behind her, resting against the wall. She's putting on her best 'cool girl' attitude, but inside, you know she's fascinated. You know your shit.

"So, like, what's all this stuff do?" Ani asks, gesturing vaguely at the engine. "It's all just metal and wires and shit to me. Rusted shit."

You chuckles, wiping your hands on a rag before taking hers. "Well, babe, this here's the heart of the car. The engine. Makes it go vroom vroom," you teases, revving an imaginary engine.

Ani rolls her eyes but smiles. "Okay, smartass. But like, what do all the parts do?"

You take the time to point to the different components, explaining in layman's terms. The specific car you're looking at is one from a regular customer, so you've run maintenance on it for years. You tell her stories of the parts you had to replace, especially the shitshow last month when you had imported specific parts from Japan and the apprentice misplaced them.

Ani listens intently, asking questions when she doesn't understand. She grins like she's won the lottery whenever you tell her she asked a great question. You involve Jon too - if it seems like something he should be able to handle, you make him answer it. Correcting him when he gets something slightly wrong, or if you wanted a more detailed explanation. It makes you laugh when Jon messes up his words because Ani is just that gorgeous. As for the complicated ones, you're patient, breaking it down so she grasps the basics.

"So, like, this is why it's important to get your oil changed regularly," Ani says, tapping the oil pan. She's squatting down to watch you as you're laid out on the dolly. "Cuz if it's all gunked up, the engine can't, what, lubricate itself or something? No lube is rough, I get it." She sighs, patting the hood like she's empathising with it.

That makes you chortle, never prepared for Ani's crass jokes or references to your very active sex life. "OK, hold on, no lube has always been your idea!" you protest, giving a weak kick from underneath.

"I didn't say I didn't like it~"

"Alright, masochist." Rolling your eyes now, you focus on her actual observation. "And to your previous point, exactly," you beam, proud of her. "See? You're a quick learner."

Ani preens under the praise. "I got a good teacher."

She helps you out from under the Nissan Tiida, sliding you back out. Work's slow sometimes. The city's got a lower amount of people who own their own cars, and you don't like the monotony of working on the same make over and over, so you don't usually go for fixing up taxis or rented cars. This specific one has been a passion project, something you toy around with when there's not much to do. You've wanted to take it home for a while, but you've been holding off. Not until it's perfect.

"Alright. What's, mm, that one?" Anora asks.

Standing up, you come up behind her, your warm breath on her neck as you lean over to see what she's pointing at. "That's the intake manifold. It brings in the air and fuel mixture the engine needs to run. Sometimes it cracks and leaks out more air than it should."

Ani nods, trying to wrap her head around it. "Okay, I think I get it. So, like, if this thing's fucked up, the car won't run right? Or at least the engine will go fucky."

"Pretty much," you confirm, wrapping your arms around her waist now. Jon's off on a lunch break. You make him go pick up burgers at a spot a few blocks down when the shop's quiet like this. Means less time of him hassling you. "But don't worry, I'll always make sure our ride is in tip top shape."

You press a kiss to her hair. The tinsel in it always falls straight down, which is why Anora straightens her hair every day to make it look right. With you, all natural without anyone else to impress? Her hair's got her natural waves, looking healthy and sleek.

Ani melts into your embrace, leaning her head back against your shoulder. "I know you will, babe. You're the best."

The two of you stand there for a moment, just enjoying each other's presence. You can't help it. You wanna tell her everything, there's a compulsion in you. Then you pull away, taking Ani's hand. "C'mon, I wanna show you something."

You lead her to the car you were just working on, opening the driver's side door. It's not flashy, not luxurious or even running perfectly yet. But it's got its charm. The seats are comfortable unlike leather which gets hot quickly, it's surprisingly spacious on the inside, and the wooden look of the interior detailing makes it look and feel cozy.

"What are you-"

"I bought it for us. Out of pocket," you explain, helping Ani into the passenger seat. "It wasn't cheap, but it's been sitting in the shop for months, and I just couldn't let it go to waste."

Ani runs her hands over the dashboard, the textured cream seats. It's not new, but it's been lovingly restored. All by you. No way you'd let Jon touch this. "It's beautiful," she breathes. "Did you do all this?"

You nod. Her awed look makes you push out your chest a little, ego thoroughly inflated. "Most of it. I had a friend look at the AC, but yeah. This is all me, babe."

Ani turns to you, throwing her arms around your neck. "I love it. I love you. You're amazing," she gushes, peppering your face with kisses.

"I figured it was time we had a real car. One that's ours. No more borrowing beaters or taking the subway everywhere. Even if you say it's alright and you like the subway." You return the 'I love you' and pucker your lips for her to kiss.

"Thank you," Ani whispers, cupping your face in her hands. "You're the best partner a girl could ask for. I mean that. Who the fuck fixes up a whole car just to surprise their girlfriend?"

"Anything for you, princess," you murmur against her lips.

"Princess?" Anora playfully shoves you away. "You're fucking high."

But you mean it. You wanna spoil her to the best of your abilities, wanna make her feel like a princess even with your meagre funds and lack of time together. You want to make her feel like the most special girl in the world.

"How about I take you for a spin in our new ride?" you offer. Your hands grip the steering wheel, the polished wood under your hands. "And the best part! No more relying on the subway. I know this isn't exactly rolling in style but..."

Anora shakes her head, taking your hand. It's calloused and rough, but the way she holds it makes you feel like you could be tender in your own way. Makes you appreciate that your hands and hard work is the way you show it, not by blowing cash. "It's perfect," she tells you. "Because you did it, because you wanted to provide. That's all I need."

"Better than the limos Ivan rode you around in?"

Anora rolls her eyes, looking at you like it's a stupid question. Because how could she even compare the two when you're in front of her, giving her everything you can? "No competition, baby. I thought I wanted that, back then, but you're what I was really waiting for."

It's so mushy and vulnerable, coming from her. Just straight from the heart. "I'm nothing special," you attempt to refuse.

"You're the only fucking one who knows what I need. Who gives it to me, no matter what it is," Ani tells you, refusing your refusal. "You've got me. Body and soul."

[svnriseblvdd]

neighbour! clark kent x new girl! reader

SYNOPSIS: when your car breaks down right as you need to pick up a friend in metropolis, clark offers to give you a ride (not the type you want) and you step up your game.

everyone thank my writer's block, because if not for that, this would never have been as out there as it is. like if i'd released this half a week ago, it would not be anywhere near this level. i still had writer's block while grinding this out, so every question of where to go next was answered with 'make it HORNIER'. and you're welcome.

WARNINGS: mentions of road head, brief palming, accidental crotch grab, innuendo, clark is perpetually horny and shameful (who isn't?), he's still so down bad and needs loving desperately. (someone let this boy get RAILED (that's my job, really, but i promise i've got one more chapter idea before he FUCKS))

part one! part two! part three!

You sigh frustratedly as you lift the hood of your car to try to gauge the problem. Perhaps the problem was that the car was old as hell, just repainted and spruced up a little to give the illusion that it was simply vintage, not a second hand metal bag of parts. 

“Everything okay?” 

You look up to find Clark coming over. Whether it's good luck or not, you've broken down in front of the Kents house. No family nicer than the Kents exist. It's entirely possible. They're endlessly helpful. The problem, as always, is their gorgeous son. 

It's hot out, he's been sweating enough to give him a particular entrancing sheen over his skin. And now you're frustrated for two very different reasons. 

“No. Stupid car broke down,” you muttered, chest heaving in a sigh. 

Clark’s gaze wanders, against his will. All of a sudden, he’s looking at your chest, the way your breasts have been pushed up by a combination of that gorgeous tank top and probably the bra beneath it. And now he’s thinking about your underwear. You in your underwear and nothing else. You standing in your underwear in front of him, begging for his help once again. 

He closes his eyes firmly and looks away, mentally smiting himself. He can’t think about you like that. You’re his neighbour, his friend, and you’re in trouble. 

He clears his throat, speaking in the hopes that he can distract himself from the sight of your cleavage and bare legs. “Okay, well, why don't we push it up to the house? We can take a look at it, see if we can get it started again. If not, at least it's not out in the road in the way.” 

“Yeah, I guess. Thanks.” 

And so the two of you manage to push your crappy car up to the front of the house, where Mr Kent joins you to take a look at it with Clark. 

“Good news is, it's totally fixable. Bad news is, you'd need a mechanic to do it. We'll call them and they can tow it from here.” 

You sigh, looking at your watch. “Damn it. I'm supposed to pick up my friend from the station in Metropolis in a couple of hours.” 

“Well, I can take you in our car,” Clark suggests. 

“You'd do that?” You ask, and he nods, charming smile still there. You grin, throwing your arms around his neck in a hug as his arms slide around your waist. “Thank you, Clark, you're a lifesaver.” 

Clark can feel as the blush begins to set in. “Yeah, of course. We can get going as soon as you're ready to.” 

“I'm ready now, if that's okay?” 

“Yeah, absolutely.” 

It’s not until you’re in the passenger seat and on the road that either of you speak again. “So, who’s your friend?” 

“Just one of the girls from Central City. I told her she could visit once I was settled in. She’s fun, you’ll love her.” 

You play with your hair, and it sends a fresh whiff of your scent in Clark’s direction. He doesn’t know if it’s perfume or shampoo, but he knows he’s already addicted. You cross one leg over the other, and fold your arms. Clark glances over, a moment of weakness that he hates himself for. It’s like he wants to punish himself. Something in him that says that if he’s going to think like this, he can go unsatisfied and hurting. It’s not logical. In fact, he knows that looking is the one indulgence he’ll allow himself. A brief glance that he won’t let linger, thoughts he’ll bury as long as possible. 

“I’m sorry about your car,” he says, in an attempt to distract himself from your bare legs and accentuated cleavage. 

You smile a little. “Don’t worry about it. Thank you for helping.” 

“Yeah, don’t mention it.” 

“No, really, Clark, thank you,” you say, turning towards him and leaning over the console in the centre, hands resting on it and pushing your breasts up and together. “You’re always there whenever I need you. You’re so good, Clark.” He’s going to explode again. “Really. I can’t thank you enough.” 

Yet again, your attempts seem to have been either obliviously ignored or politely rejected, as Clark doesn’t respond to them. Granted, this was one of your more low-key comments, but he hasn’t even glanced at your tits, and they’re right there! 

So you decide to double down. Test to see if he’s just oblivious, awkward, or not interested. 

One of your hands lands on his thigh. He blinks, but doesn’t look at you. “You’re so helpful, Clark. Always happy to help when I need you. And I always need you. There has to be some way for me to repay you.” Your hand travels further up his thigh. In an ideal world, you’d be giving him road head right now, not halfway to it. 

Clark finally looks at you, his cheeks a little flushed, and as he turns his head, his gaze lands right on your chest. 

Immediately, though, a car horn sounds, and Clark’s eyes dart back onto the road in time to swerve back into his own lane. The road had been totally empty for a while now, it hadn’t even occurred to him that eventually they had to run into someone. 

He blinks heavily. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” 

You smile, eyes bright with mischief. “For the nearly dying? Or the other thing?” 

“Uh, both. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” 

You giggle. “It’s okay, Clark. Really, you’re fine. More than fine.” 

Your hand is still on his upper thigh, a dangerous place. A bump in the road underneath the right front wheel jolts you, and your hand accidentally slips onto Clark’s crotch, applying pressure. His eyes go wide as saucers, a strangled noise barely escaping him before he gets a hold of his vocal cords. 

“Oh!” You gasp. “I’m sorry, Clark!” 

You pull your hand off, returning to your side of the car. That had slightly ruined your entire plan. It was a total accident. You hadn’t meant to straight up grab the guy. Just tease him a little. Shit. 

When you get out of the car at the Metropolis station to go find your friend, Clark takes the opportunity to do some breathing exercises, and uses the cover of his jacket to his advantage, palming at himself to relieve the ache a little for now. He bites the inside of his cheek to suppress the urge to make some sort of sound. He doesn’t know what it’ll be, and he’s alone in the car, but whatever it is, it’ll be embarrassing enough even if he’s the only one to hear it. So instead he just breathes a little irregularly, head tilted back a little against the headrest. 

He sees your friend with you as you approach the car again, and he tears his hand away from himself begrudgingly. Your friend has a grin on her face, eyes wide with excitement as you both talk with equal enthusiasm. 

You join her in the back this time, probably for the best, but you’re still on the opposite side of the car to him, so he sees you easily in the mirror, and all he needs to do is turn his head a little and let his peripheral vision do the rest. 

“Oh, you’re so right,” your friend says, and you shush her despite your giggling. 

taglist;

@blueeweeb

@ssnapsaurus

@artyandink

@i-got-a-bad-feeling-about-this

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@purple-1995

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@elysianrosie

@glennussy

[preqwells]

cw: 18+, afab, fingering, p in v, read part 1 of mechanic konig here

mechanic! konig would definitely become clingy after what you thought was your one-night stand.

staying true to his word, your new lovely mechanic named könig followed through with teaching you the basics of a car. how to check the dipstick that was in your oil tank so you'd know when you needed an oil change, checking the tire pressure so you didn't find yourself in a situation you didn't want to end up in-- he was thorough, diligent-- he found himself caring more than usual as he explained these things to you. "so, when it gets to this mark?" you softly inquired, pressing your fingernail to the mark you assumed he had pointed to. "no, maus-- here. if you base it off where you just pointed, well… good luck." he mumbled, a tinge of amusement in his tone. he kept his thick digit on the dipstick, slick oil making his index finger glisten under the sun. you attempted to train your brain to think of anything but what it wanted to think, honestly. you let out another sheepish chuckle, nodding obediently at any pointers he was kind enough to give you.

call it luck or fate, but könig didn't have the serpentine belt you so desperately needed to have installed in your car to get to work tomorrow. könig felt a hint of excitement-- this meant you needed a ride home, right? könig was kind enough to offer you a ride… well, an actual ride which you vehemently refused at first. you had never been one to ask favors of others, certainly not a stranger you just met even if your conscience screamed at you to do otherwise. "i can't-- i can't cover any additional costs…" you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as your eyes fell to the ground out of embarrassment. your helplessness was cute-- the pout that tugged at the fullness of your lips, your shy demeanor-- how had he gone so long without seeing such a sweetheart around town? "nein, it won't cut into what you already owe me. it'll be cheaper taking a ride from me than getting an uber, anyways." he insisted, catching onto the way you previously mentioned cutting back on expenses. you couldn't argue with him-- or more like, you didn't want to.

during the car ride home, könig would sneak glances at you-- whether it be at red lights or when he turned the corner. he couldn't help the way his eyes would roam your figure, and you even caught glimpses of his lingering gaze. you weren't stupid, and neither was he-- the tension was palpable, almost tangible. he guided you to your door, his hand splayed across the small of your back, thick digits bracing you. "um… well, thanks-- for everything." you quickly got out, wanting the interaction to be over so you wouldn't make a fool out of yourself. everything felt so intimate-- the way he touched you, stole glances at you-- it felt out of character for you since you had only known him maybe for half the day. könig remained quiet for a moment, drinking in every reaction you had. your head tilted upward, looking up at him through your lashes as he kept your gaze. the atmosphere suddenly felt thick, intense. "no problem. couldn't let you go home without knowing you were safe." his voice dropped an octave, his head dipping lower to insert himself in your personal bubble. your breath hitched as you nodded, opening the door as his forearms leaned against the doorframe, the heavy tools on his belt exposing a sliver of skin along with a tuft of hair right above his groin.

"well… i'm safe." "are you?" "mhm." "how're you gonna get back to my shop tomorrow?"

your brain short-circuited at the heady mix of the bluntness of his words and his stature, your mouth slightly agape. he let out a low chuckle before his index finger found the belt loop of your pants, pulling you into his space. you mumbled out a weak 'i dunno'-- that answer wasn't good enough for him. "… i could stay the night… won't cut into what you already owe me, maus." he reiterated his earlier point, the boldness of his words coated in mirth. his face was brought closer to your own, his black lashes hanging low over his eyes. your hands found purchase on his biceps before his lips brushed against yours, putting a silence to any lingering tension from earlier as your eyes fluttered closed. he put every ounce of being into the kiss-- hell, he wished you could've broken your serpentine belt earlier if it meant a pretty thing like you could've stepped into his shop sooner than you did. he backed you into your apartment, his hand closing the door hurriedly. "fuck-- you just had to walk into my shop, didn't you?" he gruffed out between kisses, annoyed at the feeling of how quickly he already found himself half-hard.

you parted your lips to squeak out a half-hearted apology before könig used this opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, coaxing a sweet moan from you which elicited a wicked grin from könig. könig led you into your bedroom, gently placing you at the head of the bed as his teeth nipped at every area of skin he could think of-- your neck, your collarbone, underneath your breast when he managed to get your shirt off. the whines and whimpers that escaped you only urged him to continue, didn't you know? stupid of you, really-- to think you weren't going to end the night with his fingers readying you to split you open on his heavy cock. his head lolled back when he did eventually find his length rubbing snugly against the slickness of your walls, your eyes blinking away tears from the initial stretch. he quickly caught wind of this as he halted his movements, arching down as his lips pressed against your cheek.

"s'okay, maus-- know i'm kind of a fit, eh? just tell me when it's okay to move." he cooed to which you quickly nodded, exhaling a sigh you didn't know you were holding. as you signaled for him to start moving, his thrusts were almost borderline calculated, precise-- you didn't seem to be complaining about it from the string of moans you were letting out, anyway. it didn't take long for his thrusts to grow sloppy, a mix of your wetness and the sound of skin slapping together filling the room. the way you keened, your brows knitted so closely together from pleasure, your lips swollen and red from the earlier make-out session-- yeah, this is where könig needed to be; buried deep into your drooling pussy.

the night came to an end as did your time with könig-- hell, you could barely remember falling asleep. you went to sleep with the thought that you'd wake up to an empty bed, trying to conjure ways for it not to be so awkward when you did eventually go to pick up a car. you'd never really had a one-night stand before-- how do you even face someone who was practically balls-deep in you the night before? what you didn't expect when morning came was the soft kisses that rained upon your cheek, waking you out of a well-deserved sleep. your eyes slowly opened, scanning the room and taking in the sight of yourself under the covers. you were… clean? no traces of stickiness between your legs, no sweat sticking to your skin. your head turned to the side to be greeted with the sight of könig with bed-head, his hair twisted in every way imaginable. your eyebrows furrowed together out of confusion-- you were fully expecting him to leave. könig caught on quickly to your confusion, his elbow propped up on the mattress as his palm rested on the side of his cheek. he returned your look of confusion as if daring you to say something.

"what? we have to go pick up your car today, don't we?"

[devonpink]

A Thanksgiving Story

Arrogant, ignorant, and stupid, no three words could better describe my dad. I didn't always see him like that, though. Growing up, we were best buds—I admired and looked up to him as a role model. I truly felt like I could tell him anything, I could trust him. So, you could imagine my shock when after coming out as gay to him, he turned on me. He ignited into a homophobic rage, disowning me as his son. He couldn't stand the sight of me. The unpleasant feeling was mutual and I moved out as quickly as possible.

For almost a decade, there was nothing but radio silence between us. Until one day, I randomly got an email from him, inviting me to a one-on-one Thanksgiving. I read it over and over, completely stunned. As mad and hurt as I still felt, I knew I'd regret not accepting his olive branch. So, I accepted.

A few days later, in the early afternoon of Thanksgiving, I drove over to my dad's place, my childhood home. As nervous as I was, driving up the old driveway and parking in my old spot felt good. As I stepped out of my car, I was reminded of how sweltering it was for November, even for Florida. As much as dressing up sounded fun, wearing a white tank top, dark tan loose shorts, and flip-flops only made sense. My balls would have melted in a pair of underwear, so I freeballed.

My heart was racing, as I flip-flopped to the front door. I was expecting the worst but hoping for the best. I could smell the turkey cooking through the front door as I knocked, its mouth-watering scent calming me slightly. A few seconds later, my dad opened the door. Unsurprisingly, he was exactly as I had left him: bulky beyond belief, obviously my leaving had no effect on his serious workout routine. Then again, maybe he exercised to escape the pain, I know I did that. He was wearing nearly the same thing, the only difference being his loose shorts were black. His pit stains were just as bad as mine—like father, like son, I guess. To my relief, his nervous expression pleasantly told me he was just as anxious as I was.

Stepping inside, I got a good whiff of him as I passed him, that oh-so-familiar scent of cologne failing to mask the intense pit reek. The house, like my father's manly stench, was exactly how I'd remembered it, nothing had changed—it was nice. As my dad led me to the kitchen, with his back to me, I gave my hairy sweaty pits a sniff. They reeked, even worse than my dad's. Unlike him, I'd forgotten to put on deodorant or cologne. We both stunk, in slightly different ways, but that similarity was comforting—like father, like son.

I was expecting things to be insanely awkward, but it was like the good old days. We sat out on the porch, drinking beer and shooting the shit as we waited for the turkey to finish cooking on the barbecue. I forgot how much I loved talking with him, for an arrogant douch bag, he sure could make me laugh. Neither of us had brought up my leaving yet, I assume to not break the good flow we had going. In truth, I didn't want to bring it up. It felt good to pretend everything was as it was in the old days.

When the turkey was done, we brought it inside and gobbled it down like too starving beasts. Obviously, our nerves had calmed down quite a bit. Everything was fantastic, I forgot how good of a cook my dad is. We didn't say much to each other while eating, too distracted by our hunger to converse—like father, like son. Before we dove into dessert, he offered me another beer. As much as the pumpkin pie was calling my name, I couldn't decline.

Instead of the usual beer we were drinking, he brought a brand I'd never seen before, "Obedience." I didn't question why he only brought out a single can, I was too distracted by the pumpkin pie to care. I cracked it open and swigged it down, anxious to get to the pie. However, after I finished, I felt funny. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I felt different. I silently stared at my dad, watching an evil grin form across his face.

My dad spoke, dropping his nice-guy demeanor. "Now listen up, boy. It's time we finally get to the point of our happy reunion." My heart was racing, I knew something terrible was about to happen. Flashbacks of before I left flooded my mind. Strangely, as much as I wanted to move, I couldn't. My body was frozen like it was waiting for something. "Take another swig of your beer, down every last drop." What happened next shocked me to my core, my body moved on its own! It was like I was a bystander in my own body, only able to watch. I robotically brought the can up to my mouth and downed every last drop, doing exactly what he commanded. At that moment, I horrifily knew exactly why it was called, "Obedience," and why he only brought out a single can of it.

"Belch, boy. Like a man." My dad arrogantly commanded, knowing I'd helplessly comply.

"bbbbbbBBBBUUUUUUURRRRRRRPPPPPPpppppppppp!!!" Just as he commanded, the biggest manliest belch came out of me. I hated how good it felt to obey him, an obvious effect of the beer.

"Belch again, boy. Except this time, additionally, let out all that stress and worry. Also, uncross your legs and manspread! Sit like a man!" He commanded.

I wanted to resist but was helpless to his commands. "bbbbBBBBBBBuuuUUUUUUrrrPPPPPPPPPpppppp!!!" Like he commanded, all stress and worry had left my body. I then uncrossed my legs and manspreaded, just like my dad. Sitting that way felt so much better.

My dad laughed, like a cocky bastard. "Such a good and obedient son I have." I wanted to get up, scream, anything but just sit there. Except I couldn't move. No matter how hard I tried, I simply couldn't move. "Now, let's get to the good stuff," My dad excitedly proclaimed, unnerving me even more. "Let out all the useless liberalism! Become a rigid conservative, just like dear old dad! Like father, like son! Belch, boy!"

I tried as hard as I could to keep it down, but it was useless. "BBBBBBUUUUURRRRRRRPPPPPPpppppppp!!!! With that, all liberalism and open-mindedness had left me. My mind was assaulted and reprogrammed to believe all sorts of small-minded conservative ideas and beliefs. It was overwhelming, yet electrifying. With conservatism comes stupidity, so my mind had become completely moldable, exactly what he wanted.

"Real men vote red, don't they, boy?" My dad asked, every word dripping with superiority.

"Sir, yes, Sir! Real men Vote-BBBBBBBbbbuuurrrrPPPPPPPPpppp!!!" Before I could finish, another manly burp escaped from me, making my dad bust out laughing. I couldn't help but laugh too, being more stupider now. It felt good to make my dad laugh. I felt like… a good son.

"Now, before we continue, I want to make sure you have no remaining resistance. So, let it all out! Give yourself to me completely! Belch, boy!" My dad commanded.

"BbbbbuuuuuuuUUUUUURRRRPPPPppppppp!" I did as he commanded, like a good son. It felt good, right, to obey him. Why would I want to resist him? He's my dad! He made me, I must obey him!

My dad was grinning like a king, as he should. "Belch again, boy! Belch as loud as you can!"

"BBBBBBBBBBBBUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!" I was more than happy to obey.

"Fuck yeah, son! You sound just like your old man!" My dad enthusiastically congratulated me.

Having him praise me felt good, so fucking good. More, I wanted so much more!

My dad then got serious, obviously, this next one would be important. "Belch, boy, and erase all gayness from yourself. Become the straight man I've always wanted you to be! No man wants a faggot for a son! Blech, boy! Belch and become straight!!!"

"BBBBBBBBBBBBUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!" Like a good son, I obeyed. "BBBBBBBBBBBBUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!" And just like that, all my gayness was gone. I'm now as straight as a freshly bought nail. I like women, only women, like a normal man. Who'd want to be fag, anyway? Fags are sick freaks!! Thank god I'm not one of them anymore. Thank god I'm straight, just like my dad! Like father, like son!

We celebrated my much-needed transformation over two massive slices of pumpkin pie. Afterward, we returned to the porch and smoked cigars, some of his finest. I feel so much better now that I'm following in my dad's footsteps. I want to be exactly like him, in every single way. I want to be completely interchangeable with him. He gave me a matching pair of sunglasses and a red cap, to protect me from the blistering sun. I obviously wore my cap backward to match him. I'm so thankful for my dad. Without him, I'd be lost.

[verstappensrealwife]

DNF - Logan Sargeant x Reader

[ logan sargeant masterlist  / f1 masterlist]

ʚɞ in which... logan takes his anger out on his girlfriend. ʚɞ smut  ⋆⭒˚.⋆ 600 words ʚɞ warnings: mean-ish logan, angry logan, fem!reader insinuated, sex, smut, fingering, P in V. established relationship.

-୨♡୧-

He was hot and sweaty from the first half of the race, and after he crashed, he couldn't hold back his rage any longer. He stood by his team as they nitpicked every minor detail he messed up, scrutinizing every little thing. He could barely contain himself, feeling the need to be shouting at everyone, and eventually, he saw you.

So beautiful, almost oblivious to his fury. Before he could think, he was already dragging you along with him to his driver's room, his breath ragged as he struggled to contain the growing problem in his suit. "What's wrong, lovely?" you breathed as he slammed the door and locked it.

"Shut up," he hissed, grabbing you by the waist and crashing his lips onto yours. You yelped and kissed back once you could process what was happening. "Stupid fucking team, and car."

You could barely hold back your moans as he shoved his hands under your skirt and tore your underwear away. You were uncomfortably wet because of him, and he reveled in it. His fingers curled inside you, your legs almost giving in as he relentlessly pushed deeper. "Please-"

"I said, shut the fuck up," he cut you off, slapping his hand over your mouth, backing you into the couch, and hovering over you. Pulling his fingers out and gripping your face, "So, so beautiful," he muttered as he yanked your tank top over your head and threw it behind him.

He didn't warn you; he just rammed his cock inside you, relentlessly smacking his hips against yours. He wasn't trying to be mean; he just couldn't help himself. And you loved it.

Your skirt bunched up around your waist, your tank top gone somewhere in the room. You were ethereal.

He took his anger out on you, skin slapping skin as he lost control. He pulled out of you and spilled himself all over your pretty skirt. You didn't notice, nor would you have cared if you had. You were breathless, panting, exhausted, eyes barely open as he rushed around the room, grabbing things to clean you with.

"Sorry if I was rough..." he whispered, kissing your forehead. "Just needed you so badly, baby."

"'s okay... was good." You mumbled mindlessly as he pulled the skirt off and forced a pair of his joggers up your legs.

"Wanna go out to eat?" he asked, noticing how you weren't moving anytime soon. "... after a big nap?" he added.

You could only nod as your eyes shut completely and your arm went limp, falling off the side of the sofa. "Love you," was the last thing you muttered before you were dead asleep.

"I love you more than you know."

—

SMUT. cringes me out. Tried not to be too detailed idk if i like it but hey ho! i needed to post

[fictionalwh0ree]

May i please request Billie x super girly/soft reader? They were friends for years and recently started dating and everyone has always questioned their relationship since they're polar opposites? Tysm!

pink bows- billie eilish

summary: you and billie are completely different, but thats what makes you great. unfortunately, not everyone sees it that way. when some of the hate gets too much, billie knows how to comfort you. word count: 1.4k warnings: none

billie eilish was indubitably the most gorgeous girl you’d ever seen. with the perfect balance of masculine and feminine energy, the perfect balance of cocky and humble, it was hard not to fall for her. you’d known since the moment the two of you became friends that you liked her in a more than just friends way. nothing had happened between the two of you until a couple months back, and when she publicly came out, she also revealed your relationship to the world.

people had known about your friendship, her posting you frequently on her story. people always replied, saying you guys were goals, your contrast being perfect. see, while billie opted for baggy clothes and a hat, you always leaned towards a tank top and a mini skirt, or a nice dress. you always stood out by her side, especially when you wore pink, which was usually. whether it was a pink purse or some detailing on your clothes, you always had it on. you loved the support you got from her fans. they were a light amongst all the hate you received as well.

so, when billie posted a photo of you two kissing, and then when she took you to the grammy’s as her date, you expected more support than what you’d got. besides the blatant homophobia, your dissimilarity had gone from something that made you “goals” to something that got in the way of dating. you received many messages saying things like “what do they even have to talk abt?” or “they literally have nothing in common, this has to be pr.”

you focused your energy on ignoring the comments, taking moments to appreciate the supportive fans who seemed overjoyed with the announcement. when the hate seemed to slow down, billie posted you again. this time, the two of you were matching, both of you in pink tshirts. billie’s shirt was baggy and paired well with her jeans, while yours was a tighter fitting tank paired with a jean skirt. despite all the positivity, new hate comments were coming in. people accused you of trying to turn her into you, saying you were taking away from her style. this was only on one end of the scale, your dms had become flooded with death threats too.

it started to become a lot. you started to pull away from billie a little, taking a little longer to answer her messages, making excuses to not see her, avoiding being in any photos she took. you couldn’t avoid her forever, though. billie wasn’t stupid. being new to the relationship meant you were both afraid to have serious discussions, worried about how it would turn out. on your side, you were scared that billie would think you were stupid or weak for letting the haters get to you. on her side, she was scared to ask what was wrong, worried that you’d either fallen out of love with her or that she’d push you too far.

the last straw was when you finally made plans with her to go get food. she stopped in your driveway, knowing you were probably strapping your heels or running back for your keys that were adorned with a pink bow, and pulled out her phone. she didn’t even realize when you’d walked out of the house until you pulled open the car door. she looked up at you, smiling, until she took in your outfit. you were in simple jeans with a black long sleeve, basic shoes, your hair down, and no makeup. there wasn’t a hint of pink, or girliness, in your outfit. her smile faltered and she tilted her head to the side in confusion. you planted a kiss on her lips in greeting.

“hey,” you said.

“hi,” she said back, uncertainty still evident.

“whats wrong?” you asked, knowing full well what was up.

she started the car, beginning the drive before she spoke again.

“uhm, nothing,” she said, “its just… i’ve never seen you in an outfit like this.”

“do you not like it?” you asked, worried, “i-i just wasn’t feeling the pink.”

“no no, you look great baby,” billie objected, “but, you weren’t feeling the pink? i never thought i’d hear that from you.”

“does it matter?” you snapped, “we’re just going to get food. sorry i don’t wanna put on a dress and heels.”

you crossed your arms, looking out the window. you heard billie sigh and if you would’ve been looking, you would’ve seen the way she bit her lip in thought and glanced over at you, plotting her next words.

“y/n whats been up with you recently?” billie asked nervously.

“what do you mean?” you said.

“well, i don’t know, you just haven’t been yourself recently,” she took a breath, considering whether or not she’d say what had been on her mind.

“do you- do you not like me anymore or something?” she said, eyes flicking between you and the road.

“no, no, billie, thats not it. i promise,” you said, turning to face her while grabbing her hand off the console.

“okay,” she said, smiling a little out of relief, “then what is it? and don’t say nothing.”

“honestly,” you breathed out, “i was just trying to fit in with you more.”

“fit in with me more?” she asked, confused.

“i don’t know, it feels kind of stupid to say,” you confessed honestly.

“it’s not stupid, baby, i promise. just tell me,” she comforted, placing a kiss on the back of your hand.

“well, ever since we went public, i’ve been getting all these comments and dms about how i’m taking away from your style when we match, and how we don’t match, and how we look like a pr stunt because i dress in pink and girly and you don’t,” you said, looking down.

“i guess i just got tired of it. i want people to see us and know we’re together, for real,” you muttered.

“y/n,” billie said, squeezing your hand, “how could you call that stupid?”

“i just shouldn’t have let the hate get to me,” you said.

“its not your fault,” she said, finally arriving at the restaurant drive through.

you sat still for a moment as she ordered the food and picked it up. she parked in the parking lot, finally looking over to you for more than a second.

“y/n, i like your style. i don’t want you to change, for me or for anyone else. part of what makes us work is that we’re different. i know its annoying having people think it isn’t real, but we know the truth, that’s what matters,” she said, taking your hand in hers and placing a kiss on the back again.

you looked at her, biting your lip shyly. you smiled slightly, trying to fight it a little, but it was hard. your cheeks were burning as you looked at her.

“there’s that pretty smile,” she cooed, smiling back at you.

“i love you,” you said.

“i love you more,” she replied, leaning over the console to kiss you on the lips.

she snagged your house keys from the cup holders in the middle, untying the pink ribbon that adorned it.

“give me your hand,” she spoke.

you offered it to her and she gently picked up your left hand, carefully tying a bow on your ring finger, making you blush harder. you quickly rooted through your own bag, finding and untying the pink bow that was on your car keys.

“give me yours,” you said.

she gave it to you, and you tied the ribbon on her ring finger, just as she had done to you, before leaning over to kiss her lips briefly. you pulled away, holding her hand and admiring the two pink bows, knowing one day those bows would become rings.

“lets go,” you said.

she pulled out of the parking lot and as she drove, you snagged a picture of your hands, one that was sure to become a wallpaper, a constant reminder of your love and how it transcends what anyone thinks.

[chaimilkshake]

Brother’s Best Friend Part 2 - Nicholas Chavez x reader

summary: you make your return to LA to celebrate the success of your brother’s show

warnings: mentions of alcohol, cooper gets drunk

word count: 1.1k

a/n: got a little carried away because i got excited oops! but i hope you guys like this as much as the first one <3

It had been a couple weeks since you had gone to visit your brother in LA. You were back at school, back at your routine, yet everything was different. Ever since you met Nicholas, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was stupid, really. You talked to him for maybe two total hours while you were there.

Yet here you sat, in your dorm at UCSD, unable to focus. You groan, shutting your laptop and setting your forehead on your desk when your phone chimes. You slowly pick your head up, grabbing it to read the message.

Coop 🐥

You willing to come back to LA this Saturday?

You consider for a moment, glancing at your calendar and finding a blank space under Saturday. Your thumbs roam over the letters before beginning to type.

You

Maybe…what for?

Coop 🐥

We’re having a party for the show’s success. Thought I’d invite my biggest supporter :)

You

Aww, well after that I think I have to. When on Saturday?

Coop 🐥

Starts at 7, but if you’d be willing to help set up?

You

Be there at 5 :p

Coop 🐥

Yay! See you then <3

You smile at the conversation between you and your brother, until it hits you. A party about the show. Nicholas was bound to be there. Whether or not you were ready to see him after he’d been on your mind for so long, you weren’t sure. But supporting your brother was much more important to you than a boy.

That Saturday, you got in your car and drove the two hour drive to your brother’s house in Los Angeles. He promised to let you stay the night in his guest room after the party, so you’d packed an overnight bag with clothes and anything else you’d need.

By the time you got there, it was around 4:45 PM. You grabbed your bag from the back, going to knock on the front door. Before you could, though, the door swung open.

“I swear you’re like a dog. You know I’m here before I even get out of the car,” you chuckle as your brother pulls you into another hug.

“Hey!” He scoffs, pulling away to look at you. “How dare I love my sister,” he chuckles, moving to let you in. He showed you upstairs to the guest room, letting you settle in. “Is that…what you’re wearing?” He asks, gesturing to your outfit.

You look down at your sweatpants and tank top, then back at him. “What, you don’t like it?” You ask, laughing at his reaction. “I’m kidding. These are just my comfy clothes for the drive up here. I brought other clothes,” you assure him, nodding.

He put a hand on his chest, blowing out air dramatically. “Thank God, because I was gonna say…” You smack his arm playfully before beginning to settle into the room and changing for the party.

A couple hours later, the house was all set up for the party. Cooper had gotten drinks while you got the food. Varieties of chips, dips, crackers, cheese, and other snacks covered the dining room table. You took your time making sure it looked nice while Cooper set up an assembly line of sorts for the drinks.

“I think it’s all set,” you say, entering the kitchen and looking around. “Good work, Coop,” you hum, grabbing a cup to pour yourself a drink.

Cooper smiles at that, shrugging as he holds his own cup. “I know, I know.”

Before you have the chance to tease him, there’s a knock at the door. “Our first guest?” You ask, setting the cup down and going to answer it. You pull the door open, smile on your face until you’re eye to eye with Nicholas.

“Oh!” You say, not having expected him. “Hi.”

Nicholas smiles back, hands in his pockets. He looked amazing. Even just in jeans and a t-shirt. “Hey,” he greeted with a nod. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here.”

“Cooper texted me a couple days ago asking if I’d come,” you explain, stepping to the side. “Come on in.”

By 7:30, dozens of people filled Cooper’s house. You had to admit, you were a bit overwhelmed. You found yourself standing in a corner, simply observing everyone. Soon, Cooper came to relieve you of your misery. Albeit, a little drunkenly.

“I didn’t invite you to my party to be a Debbie Downer,” your brother slurred, leaning against the wall beside you.

You chuckle at his state, shaking your head. “Just not a party person, Coop,” you hum, watching him pout afterwards.

“You should find Nic! He’d probably loooove your company, y’know. He really likes you,” Cooper says, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

It takes all but three seconds for your face to go pink, ruining any chance of hiding how that information made you feel. “...He said that?” You ask, figuring there was no point in pretending.

“Oh yeah. Back when you visited the first time,” he nods, finishing off his drink. “Aww, my cup’s empty.” WIthout another word, he disappeared into the kitchen. You laughed at that, shaking your head. As you looked back into the crowd, you found Nicholas on the other side of the room, already looking at you.

When you made eye contact, though, it was clear he had no instinct to look away. His smile simply grew, holding your gaze. It was like staring at a car crash. You knew you really shouldn’t look, but you simply couldn’t look away.

You smiled back, raising your cup to him as a hello. Instead of responding, though, he began moving through the crowd towards you. You immediately stood up straighter, subtly trying to fix yourself up as he pushed through people.

Once he finally got through, you were stood up straight and already smiling at him. “Hi,” you said, noting the height difference between you two.

“Hi,” he replied, looking down at you, drink in hand, and seemingly thinking the same thing. “How’s school?” He asks, lifting his drink to his lips.

You chuckle at the question, watching him smile into his cup. He knew exactly what he was doing. “Good. We’re starting microscopic anatomy next week.”

Nicholas shakes his head, swallowing his drink. “Can’t say I know anything about that.”

You both share a look before bursting into laughter, your hand resting on his arm for stability.

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” you manage eventually, still recovering from the giggles.

“I mean…” he starts, watching you laugh. “You don’t have to.”

You stare up at him, then, realizing what he was saying. Before you could react further, he was stepping forward, tipping your chin up and capturing your lips with his. You melted into him, a hand resting on his arm that held your face.

You never imagined yourself as the type to make out in the corner of a party, yet here you were, with your brother’s best friend.

tags: @moonlgtflwr @candlestickmick

[natalievoncatte]

Alex rolled onto her side, and was a little surprised to see Kelly Olsen laying next to her, turned away and curled up the Egyptian cotton of her bed

(their bed)

snoozing softly in the morning light. Alex took the time, as one does, to admire the vulpine curves of Kelly’s back and the elegant sweep of her shoulders. She wanted nothing more but to lean in and plant a soft kiss on the back of her neck and wake her, which would hopefully lead into a glorious Saturday morning of sun-kissed, gentle lovemaking that would result in an forgotten breakfast and breathy declarations seared into hot skin with caressing fingers and tasting lips.

Unfortunately her fucking phone was going off.

Alex rolled out of bed and snatched it, relieved that she hadn’t disturbed her girlfriend. She threw on a button-down as a makeshift robe and plodded out into the kitchen.

She wasn’t expecting a call from…

“Lena?”

“Alex?”

“Yeah, what’s up? You don’t call me often.”

“I need help. It’s an emergency. Sort of.”

Alex glanced back at Kelly’s languid form and one long leg slipping out from under the sheets.

“Where’s Kara?”

“I can’t talk to Kara about this. It has to be you, Alex.”

“Okay, sure,” Alex said, warily. “We can grab a coffee later at-“

“Alex, it has to be now and at my place. This is serious.”

Alex bit her lip. There was a compelling urgency to Lena’s voice. Alex didn’t have Kara’s super senses but she could pick up the nervous energy and hint of feed behind the words.

“Okay,” said Alex. “I’m on my way.”

Alex pulled on her cleanest pants and most readily available tank top and scribbled a note for Kelly (encouraging her to either stay in or be back in bed by the time Alex returned, as their business was unfinished) and grabbed her car keys.

Rising her bike would have been… a sore subject, as it were.

Morning traffic was surprisingly light and she made good time. Lena buzzed her up and she walked into Lena’s weirdly cold penthouse, and found her sister’s best friend pacing rapidly back and forth, dressed in a hoodie and hugging herself.

“Okay,” said Alex. “I’m here, Lena. What’s going on?”

“I’m pregnant,” Lena blurted out, before Alex had finished speaking.

Alex stared at her.

“Funny, I always thought you were a virgin.”

Lena glared at her. Alex knew why Kara was so fascinated by her- she had those big pretty eyes that radiated sadness and set off Kara’s protective instincts. Alex had figured out a long time ago that these two dipshits should just bang it out, but it wasn’t really her place to tell them, especially if it meant outing Lena, or dealing with Kara’s baggage from her weirdly fascist home planet and its bizarre ideas about sex.

(One example of said baggage being her sister’s heart breaking over the alien fuckboi from the asshole planet. If only Kara had realized that her gorgeous kind billionaire best friend was in love with her… you know, before the whole world domination Kryptonite laser thing)

(People who aim orbital fusion cannons at their friends should not cast stones, Alex had decided)

“Alex?”

Oh. Lena was talking. Alex pretty much blue screened there.

“Right, you’re pregnant. Are you sure?”

“I’ve taken two tests, and I’m late.”

Alex rubbed at her chin. Lena looked like a drowned rat, more than a little terrified.

Alex swallowed hard.

“Okay, first question. Did someone hurt you?”

Lena looked up sharply. “What? No.”

Standing to pace the room again, Lena rubbed at her arms as if she were cold.

“So um,” said Alex. “Do you need my help with…”

“I just need someone I can talk to that isn’t Kara. I can’t tell her yet.”

Alex swallowed. Hard. “Okay. Tell me what’s going on.”

Lena sighed and stared out her balcony window.

“Do you remember that game night where we all got sloshed, last month?”

“Yeah,” said Alex. “You hosted. As I recall, Kara was the last to leave.

“She didn’t leave. I… I did something stupid. I tried to seduce her, clumsily. I was drunk off my ass.”

Alex tensed, the hairs on the back of her neck rising.

“Oh,” said Alex. “She brushed you off and you went out for a hookup? I’ve done worse. Are things okay between you?”

Lena stared at Alex as if she’d just grown a second head.

“No, Alex. Kara spent the night. She insisted we not do anything intimate until we both sobered up, but I talked her into staying in bed with me.”

Alex sighed. “You got any of that expensive single malt? Your dad’s brand?”

“It’s eleven in the morning.”

“Well, it’s not like you can drink it. You can have juice.”

Lena glared at her. “Cabinet by the fridge.”

Alex ended up pouring two glasses of cranberry juice and sat down at the kitchen island, pushing one over to Lena.

Lena sighed. “I don’t want to get into the details but we were definitely sober when we woke up.”

“And?” said Alex.

“We, um, we had sex,” said Lena.

“And then she got weird and brushed you off and you went out for a hookup?”

“What? No! Just let me finish telling the story.”

Alex sipped her juice, enjoying the bite on her tongue. “Okay.”

“We’ve been sort of seeing each other ever since. Quietly, keeping it to ourselves. Kara is…” Lena sighed, “she’s very protective and she’s afraid that you’ll get upset if you find out we’re together.”

Alex’s fist closed tightly around her glass.

“Lena,” Alex explained, “I’ve forgiven and forgotten a lot from you, but I’m having a hard time understanding how this happened if you’re with my sister. Did you cheat on her?”

Lena looked up sharply from her glass. “What the fuck, Alex? How could you even ask me that? God, am I ever going to be good enough for your sister? I know I fucked up. I know what I did was wrong. Hurting her was the worst thing I have ever done and I would trade anything to take it back, but we are in…”

“Okay,” Alex cut her off. “Fine. Our lives are fucking weird, so I’ll give you the benefit of tbe doubt. But usually you being pregnant would imply that a man was involved somehow.”

Lena blinked. “What?”

“You’re pregnant. There has to be a father.”

Lena stared at her in abject confusion.

Then she said, “Alex, Kara is the father.”

Alex looked at her for too long a moment.

“I’m sorry but what the fuck, Lena? What did you do?”

“What did I do?” Lena demanded. “It’s not my fault! I mean it is as much my fault as it is hers, but we weren’t worrying about protection the first morning and after that neither of us brought it up. I know, I’ve been stupid, I just…”

Alex’s mouth fell open.

“Protection? You and her? What the fuck?”

Lena took a long pull of cranberry juice and winced at the tartness.

“You didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Apparently, under a yellow sun, Kryptonians can, um, adapt to a sexual partner’s body.”

“Okay, okay, okay!” Alex snapped, “okay fine my little sister… with you… and you’re pregnant. Fine, we’re on the same page. What now?”

Lena stared at her, biting her lip as she sought answers.

“Are you going to keep it?”

“Keep it?” said Lena. “It’s Kara’s. Of course I will. That’s not even a question. I’m just… I’m scared, Alex. What does this mean? How is she going to react? What if… Jesus, I’m carrying a half-Kryptonian baby. Is that even safe?”

“It worked out fine for Lois and Clark. Twice. You’ll be okay, if having the baby is what you want.”

“It is,” said Lena. “Kara makes me deliriously happy, Alex. She was like a knight in shining armor that night and she was so kind and gentle the next morning and it’s like… like this was natural. We both fell into it so easily that it was like it had always been this way. I love her. I love her so much.”

Lena was red faced, looking embarrassed as she cast her eyes down. Alex reached across the table and took her hands.

“Well, I’m glad you dipshits figured it out. Watching you two blush and stammer at each other for another five years would’ve killed me.”

“ALEX!”

“If you want my blessing, you have it. I’m sorry I doubted you, but in my defense, I didn’t know she could… do… that.”

“Uh, right,” said Lena. “I want to call her and ask her to come over now so I can tell her. I know this should be a private moment but… can you stay? It just feels like you belong here for this.”

“Yeah, Lena. I’ll stay.”

Lena smiled.

[lisacameron99]

JJ x Routledge!Reader - Stranger (not proofed)

Warnings: angst but happy ending, aftermath of JJ getting into a fight, heartbroken reader and JJ, Kiera is bisexual

“Now you’re just a stranger I know everything about.” As you finished singing the song, your friends applauded, making you jump. “I didn’t know yall were there.” You said timidly, putting down Kie’s ukelele.

“You’re so talented!” Sarah told you, beaming. You spared a glance at JJ before pushing yourself up.

“Yeah, well, I don’t sing or play often anymore.”

You left your friends out by the fire pit and made your way inside the chateau. You flopped onto your bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Hey,” John B knocked on the door. You didn’t acknowledge him. You knew what he was going to say and you knew it would piss you off. “We miss you.”

Now that, you really weren’t expecting.

“Kie told me that if J and ever got together and broke up, not to keep coming around. No progue on progue macking.”

“So that means you can’t hang out with the rest of us?”

“It’s easier if I don’t see him.”

“You’re so stupid.” John B laughed at me. “You think you can just worn your way into their lives, make your presence more in my life, and just leave? You’re so full of shit.”

“Excuse me?” You demanded, put off by your brother’s opinion.

“You matter, dumbass.” He exploded. “You matter to all of us, and you not being around has a toll on all of us. So you need to figure out how the fuck go put this behind you and get back to the group.”

After John B left, you found yourself staring at a photo of you and JJ. It was one of the few that you had. You were happy, having just gotten back from being stuck on the island. It was from a kegger you and JB had put on. You had JJ’s hat on and one of his old flannels and a random tank top and shorts. JJ was wearing his usual cut of tank top and a pair of cargo shorts. You both were holding red solo cups, yours in the air, JJ’s in his hand. JJ had his free hand wrapped around you, hugging you tightly to his side. You had been talking aimlessly about God knows what, but you both had wide smiles on your face and hadn’t noticed Pope snap the photo.

“That one’s a good one.” Pope said, standing next to the bed where you sat holding the photo tightly. You stayed silent. “That night was good, one of the last good nights before…” he trailed off. Before JJ and I broke up.

“What’s up,” you said softly, clearing your voice.

“Well, I need help running errands. You in? Fifty bucks for the day.” You couldn’t say no to that type of cash, and Pope knew it.

“Yeah, let me change okay?” Pope left and you quickly changed into a ratty old T-shirt and a pair of jean shorts before heading out to go with Pope.

“You could tell him you still love him.”

“Pope…”

“Oh don’t pull that bullshit with me, Y/N.” He said from his car. “You still do, and that whole thing with Kiera is done now. She’s with Alison anyways.”

“It’s hard to believe he even wants to be around me.” You mumbled, watching the ocean go by.

“Well, he does.” It was silent after that. You and Pope made your deliveries and went back to the chateau.

“It feels like he’s just a stranger I know everything about.”

When you went in, you noticed JJ leaning against the counter, cleaning his hand.

“JJ, what the hell, man?” Pope asked, looking him over.

“It’s nothing.” He mumbled, still fuming.

Oh, but it was something. Whether he was fighting with Topper or Rafe, having his dad beat the shit out of him, or fighting some other Kook, it was always something.

“You got this?” Pope whispered. “I need to go pick Cleo up.”

You nodded hesitantly. And with that, Pope left.

You walked into the bathroom, going straight for the first aid kit. “J, get in here.” You demanded from the bathroom. When you didn’t hear JJ coming, you stormed into the living room. “I wasn’t joking, get your ass in here.” You noticed his eye was split and sighed.

“You don’t need to do this. I can talk care of myself.” He snapped, harsher than you knew he intended.

“Well, I’m going to do this so get in here before it gets infected.”

“Why?” He demanded, setting down the towel he was using to clean his hand.

“Do you always have to be so fucking difficult?” You snapped, losing your cool.

“I’m difficult? Have you met yourself?” JJ stared at you dead in the face. He was trying to get a rise out of you. You knew this.

“I have, for 19 years JJ. And I know I am; but I’m trying to help you right now, so please let me know —” he stalked over to you and you backed against the wall. “What are you doing?” You asked in a shaky voice.

“I’m trying to stay calm,” he heaved out a breath and you felt your core throb. You hadn’t been this close to each other in weeks.

“I,” you breathed.

“Tell me it’s not too late,” JJ whispered and this time, it was your heart that throbbed.

“You know it’s not.” You croaked out.

“Good.” He rested his forehead against yours. “Good.”

You stayed like that for at least ten minutes, heads pressed against each other and just breathing.

You broke the silence. “Can I clean you up now?” You asked.

JJ laughed, letting you lead him into the bathroom.

After cleaning up his eye and hand, you stayed seated on the counter.

JJ moved a piece of hair behind your ear and rubbed back and forth across your cheek. Your hand rested on top of his. Your leg wrapped against his and you pulled him to you. His breath fanned your face and you felt yourself melt into him.

When his mouth finally landed on yours, the groan you both let out was more than either of you realized. JJ pulled you closer so your fronts were together. You panted when he pulled away, but you pulled him back to you joining your mouths again. His tongue worked its way into your mouth, and his hand tightened around the back of your neck. The whimper you let out was pathetic, but so necessary.

When you pulled back, you were panting hard.

“So, safe to say we still got it?” JJ asked, and you smacked his shoulder before he dragged your mouth back to his.