#and i was fucking dying laughing explaining it

[gallusrostromegalus]

So I live kinda nearish to the abandoned Titan-1 missile silos in CO. And while at a friend's wedding, I got to talking to her dad (Sam), who grew up right next to them. He starts telling me that when he was like, 12, he and his friends from the fundie church they all grew up in decided to go explore the missile silos because they'd heard that there were satanic cultists doing rituals in there, and thought they were gonna be God's Big Heroes and rescue some kids or puppies or whatever.

"So we go down there, wearing our bike helmets and sports pads, armed with softball bats and hockey sticks- We must've looked dumb as hell, because I weight eighty pounds sopping wet at the time- and start exploring the silo with flashlights and singing 'In The Lord's Army' and that kind of shit-" Sam explains, casually waving a beer bottle. The other guy at the table starts snort-laughing and nodding.

"Shut up Terry!" Says Sam, mock-slapping his friend's shoulder. "Anyway, the four of us are shuffling through this dark-ass underground building full of junk, about to piss ourselves and- SHUT UP TERRY I'M TELLING THE STORY- and we see this faint light coming from under one of the doors. Gotta be where they're doing the rituals, right? So we sneak up to the door-"

"I could hear you from like, half a mile off." Terry giggles.

"Dude shut up- we don't sneak up to the door, and my heart is going a mile a minute, we're about to fight the actual devil or some this, right? So I kick the door in and scream "THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU-!" Sam says, way too loud for 1 AM in a suburban neighborhood, but hey, it's a wedding.

Terry makes a noise like a dying rubber duck.

"But instead of like, maidens chained to summoning circles or whatever, it's just Terry chilling in a lawn chair he dragged down there." Sam sigh.

"HIGH AS FUCK, That's really important." Terry adds.

"-High as fuck, and we kinda stare at him, he stares at us, everything is really awkward, because I think I recognized you from the baskin-robbins."

"And he pipes up with 'Are you the satanists?'-" Terry adds in a cracking falestto. "-And I'm high as balls, so I just go 'What?'. So God's Littlest Soldier here starts telling me about the satanic cult in the missile silo and I understand maybe half of it. But like. I can't let a bunch of little kids walk around down there, what if one of you fell into the silo and broke your neck or something? I'm like, fifteen, but relatively speaking I'm the adult here, you know?"

"-I'M TELLING THE STORY TERRY!!" Sam hollers. "So he's like 'Can we help you look for them?' and I thought this was GREAT! More warriors for the cause and all. So we wander around the base for a while but there's not that much of it that you can actually walk in and we get bored real fast. So Terry- He-" My friend's dad starts to laugh, crumpling over the table.

"-So I ask them if they want to go back to the main base and play Dungeons and Dragons." Says Terry as Sam cackles. "And they're like, SURE! So We go back and roll up character sheets and play until dawn, and after that we met up like twice a month or so to play D&D in the abandoned missile Silo."

"The whole time, Terry is like- I gotta hand it to you man, for a teenager what you did was a goddamn miracle- Terry is carefully asking us about what church we go to and questions about the bible like "If God is all-powerful and Benevolent, how come there's evil? Either he's not all powerful or an asshole, right?" and then it's like "Well, we only have god's version of events about what happened between him an Lucifer" and so on-" Sam explains. "-Did a bang-up job deprogramming us from the fundie cult."

"Anytime man." Terry nods, toasting him with his beer. "It's what friends do, right?"

"-So correct me if I'm wrong." I say. "But I'm like ninety percent sure that the was a Satanic Wedding ceremony I just saw?"

"Oh, yeah, he converted us all to Satanism, I go to the Satanic Temple in Salem at least twice a year, raised my girls Satanist." Sam explains. "So there really were satanists in the missle silo, but the rituals were critical thinking lessons and D&D."

I was thinking about this today and I'm curious because it seems to be a thing in every place I've lived.

Bonus: share in the comments more details about the place, the rumors, and whether or not you've been there!

[gwensy]

how come you don't like the spiderverse movies? (/genq, i have mixed feelings about them too)

i've made a plethora of posts about this in the past but nothing very concise + i truly don't love alot of my older posts on the topic so i won't link any .......

but Essentially they have been beyond detrimental to Gwen Stacy and most notably Gwen Stacy-65 [Ghost-Spider] as a character lol. In the Sony movies she gets grossly mischaracterized and rewritten, her mythos is ignored almost entirely, her abilities are different, her age and personality are all altered -- and the fact that most of these changes are made purely to make her a more appealing love interest to Miles Morales [giving her more steady morals. changing her from a twenty-something year old to a fifteen year old. watering down her personality into a nothingburger of charming-love-interest.], which is a character that she is Barely even friends with in the comics, with the exception of sitting in a tree [Latour & Bendis Spider-Gwen #16]

— and this comic is a fucking nightmare scenario !!!. on Earth-8, Gwendolyn Stacy's grand escape from dying a tragically young death consists of her being wedlocked into a celebrity superhero marriage entirely away from home; her "happy ending" consists of marriage with a man that she barely gives a fuck about, and I don't think I need to explain why that is a laughably gross thing to do to a character that was created as a subversion and wraith like force in the face of the beautiful dead girl trope. [ontop of the fact that her and Miles truly do not work together. they are severely incompatible and in completely different age brackets + they are both preoccupied with worlds and love interests of their own. the fact that Latour and Bendis claimed to make this pairing for the sole purpose of 'coining a popular superhero ship' is also fucking annoying lol] which is why it is beyond infuriating to me that Spiderverse saw this comic and pairing and decided that it was *actually* a subversive and multi-verse shattering love story. because of course Gwen-65, a character who has never once shown any romantic reciprocation towards any other character within her source material, would actually love to be this boy's girlfriend and any adversity will be rewritten, rehashed or retconned. it is annoying and grossly misogynistic at it's core.

^ Gwen/Miles aside (though I do find it to be the center of the issues I take with Sony's portrayal of Gwen Stacy, alot of changes have been made to her character to make her a better side piece to his character in these movies.), Gwen Stacy is generally just wildly out of character and leagues more uninteresting than her comic counterpart in these movies — Jason Latour [the primary person responsible for her original comic characterization & the writer for her very first comic run.] had a hand in writing her for these movies and openly admitted to him seeing it as a "do-over" to rewrite his initial comics, which is crazy given that he was still fucking writing his Spider-Gwen run during the creation process of Into the Spider-verse. laughing crying emoji.

but so anyways. death, a lack of agency, trauma survival and loneliness are all very core parts of Gwen Stacy's character and stories within the Ghost-Spider comics, she is a genuinely interesting character who is extremely tied to her deceased 616 counterpart and the fact that these things are all erased in these movies for the sake of turning her into a different person entirely drives me up a wall -- and these movies haven't been exempt from comic synergy, either. Stephanie Phillips [the writer for Gwen Stacy's current ongoing run] Ghost-Spider is *also* wildly out of character with four previous comic runs being ignored or watered down in their entirety, with the author [yet again] admitting to using these comics as an avenue to rehash and rewrite the character. it is dire and gwen stacy fans have not had a win in their life since like 2017. death loves gwen stacy jot it down. read Latour Spider-Gwen (2015), McGuire Ghost-Spider (2018), McGuire Gwenom vs Carnage (2020), and what the hell maybe even some of Flores' spidergwens .......... and of course reading amazing spider-man & spider-man blue (2011) are required reading as a prerequisite to every Gwen Stacyism.

and she's literally venom in the comics which is seriously badass and awesome

look at my panels boy

[skitskatdacat63]

Next au is truly bound to be Don Quixote! Fernando istg 😭 it's so him yknow. Deranged man who has delusions of grandeur because he's read too much knight fanfiction and everyone around him both is concerned but also humors him

[gibbearish]

btw similar to the whole "if you try adderall at a party and it calms you down, get an adhd test" thing, if at some point in your life you try microdosing shrooms with a friend and end up feeling like a functional person for the first time in your life, get tested for depression. like yeah hallucinogens come with elation so youre probably gonna have some "this is the best ive ever felt in my life" vibes regardless, but like. if that in and of itself feels like finally breathing in for the first time in years, thats for sure a sign that something is up with your ability to process serotonin most of the time. feeling better than ever before should be a nice bonus, not a crushing weight off your chest

[butyoudidthis4what]

No Man's Land

Jack Abbot x f!Reader

5.1k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || C.W.: mentions of blood, mentions of guns and shootings, mentions of death/dying/coding, CPR, anxiety about partner's safety, Jack's traumatized, reader's traumatized, mentions of dissociation and compartmentalization, poor description of medical events, potentially incorrect medical descriptions/knowledge, very very light smut, angst, age gap kind of implied with Jack but not explicitly referenced, no use of y/n or related, not proofread, no beta, I think that's all but if I missed any please (nicely) let me know.

Summary: This is my Pitt-Fest-But-Not fic. Development of your relationship through vignettes of the past and conversations between Jack, Dana and Robby. There's a shooting where you work. Jack is at the ED when the dispatch comes in and is terrified when he can't get in touch with you.

A.N.: If my Robby reads like John Carter I'm sorry, except that a little bit I'm not. I feel like I'm struggling with my Jack characterization but can't tell if that's just me hating everything I do. This is my take on one of my fave tropes where reader is in mortal danger. I needed a physical location that could be associated with reader and settled on a courthouse, but what it is reader does there is not described. Probably (definitely?) needs a part two. If you get the nickname, thank you, I feel seen. If you don't I explain it at the end. This is absolutely something I would call him, in part to fuck with people who know his real name. I would love to know if you enjoyed and to hear any thoughts you'd like to share.

“He has a girlfriend,” Robby smirks at Dana. 

She blinks at him. “I’m sorry, I thought we were talking about Jack Abbot.”

“Oh we fucking are.” Robby stifles his smirk and forces his lips to remain closed and as neutral as possible. 

“You’re shitting me.” Dana’s incredulous look breaks Robby a bit and he starts to laugh, tries to turn it into a cough when both he and Dana look up to find Jack staring at them as he takes his snow dusted beanie off. He gives Robby a ‘really?’ look even though he knew Robby would rat him out to Dana the second Robby had dragged it out of him. 

Dana looks back at Robby. “Who? How did they meet?”

Robby holds up his hands. “You now officially know as much as I do about her.” Dana makes a noise of vague discontent but knows Jack well enough to know Robby is telling the truth. That’s all that’s been revealed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s not worth it,” you whisper. Jack blinks and looks around, unsure if you’re talking to him. He has no idea who you are, has never seen you before in his life but it appears that you are in fact whispering to him in the middle of this bookstore. 

He raises his eyebrows. “It’s not?”

You shake your head, give him an almost conspiratorial smile. “No, he must have gotten a new ghost writer. It’s really bad in comparison to his other stuff. Save your time and money. I’ll give you a summary right now for free if you’re that curious.”

Jack smiles to himself a little bit as he sets the book back on the shelf. There’s something about you, your smile, the way you just randomly spoke to him. He’s drawn to you. An alarm goes off in some part of his brain telling him to ignore it, ignore you, he could get hurt. He pretends to weigh his options as he turns to face you fully. “How about for a cup of coffee?”

Your brows furrow in confusion for a moment. There’s simply no way this unfairly attractive man is asking to buy you a cup of coffee. “The summary?” You clarify. “That I’d give for free. You want it to cost a cup of coffee instead?” You let out a nervous laugh and some part of his heart aches because you’re so adorable. “I just want to make sure I understand before I potentially make an even bigger fool of myself.” 

“Yep.” He can’t help but laugh a little. “You give me the summary over coffee. Actually, you know what? You’re going to have to give me a recommendation too because now I’m going to have nothing to read.” He clicks his tongue at you. 

“Well,” you laugh out, all breathy as you try to pull yourself together. “You drive a hard bargain but I think I’m willing to accept those terms…” you glance at his name badge, “Dr. Abbot.” You give him a full smile and Jack knows then and there he’s totally fucked in the best of ways. 

“Jack.” He smiles at you as you both begin walking towards the café. “Call me Jack.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything quiet enough after handoff, Robby walks out with Jack into the morning sun that does little to warm the breeze pulling leaves off the trees. “Any chance you can cover a shift on Saturday night?” Robby is asking, yes, but he knows it’s not really a question, Jack is always willing to work.

“Can’t.” Jack says simply, shrugging his shoulders. “Sorry.” There’s an expectant silence that hangs between the two as they keep walking.

“Care to elaborate?” Robby finally asks.

“No.” Jack turns and smirks at him. “It’s none of your and Dana’s business.”

“Ha!” Robby laughs. “So it’s her, it’s about her! The ever elusive girlfriend. Will we ever get to meet her? Or does she not want to meet us? Is she real?” Jack stops walking and gives Robby one of his looks. “Holy shit, is it someone here?”

Jack snorts at that. “No it’s not someone here. She’s not even in the medical field.” He sighs, half longing and half resignation of some kind. “She’s honestly dying to meet you guys, especially you and Dana, but I’m trying to protect her from this hellhole. It’s hard with schedules too, to find a time.”

“That’s such fucking bullshit,” Robby laughs. “Are you afraid to truly commit? Think bringing her here will make it too real?” 

It’s a valid question but one that Jack nevertheless resents. “No, actually, if you must fucking know Saturday is our one year anniversary. We have plans. So you’ll have to find someone else to cover. But I’ll bring her around soon,” he laughs through his nose to himself at your stubbornness, “if I don’t she’s liable to just show up one of-”

“A year?” Robby laughs, incredulous. “A fucking year? How the hell did you hide it for three months before I dragged it out of you?”

Jack ignores him. “Also, I’m moving to days. It’s better for us.” He’s so nonchalant about it, just states it like he’s saying the sky is blue, like it’s not going to make Robby’s eyes widen and mouth drop open like it does.

“I don’t,” Robby huffs a laugh, “I don’t even know where to fucking begin.”

“Then don’t.” Jack smirks, starts to walk again while Robby stays frozen, running a hand through his hair. “Go do some actual work.”

“I thought you found comfort in the darkness?” Robby yells after him. 

Jack slows and turns around but keeps walking backwards, one hand holding the strap of his backpack to keep it over his shoulder. He glances down at his phone and the photo of you that is now his wallpaper. He smiles to himself a little, yells back. “Guess I find it somewhere else now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You giggle, honest to god giggle and Jack could lose his damn mind as he nibbles at your collarbone. “You know if my anatomy class had been this fun, I might have become a doctor too.” 

You’re laying on your back in bed as Jack kisses your sweat slicked skin all over as you both come down from your last round. He’s taken to 'teaching you anatomy' like this, identifying different parts of the human body with his mouth.

“Hmm,” Jack hums against you. “I’m glad it wasn’t then. Fuck doctors.” He starts to kiss down your chest. 

“That has become quite the favorite pastime of mine, yes,” you smirk. “Fucking one specific doctor, actually.” 

“Getting fucked by one specific doctor more like it,” he murmurs into your sternum. He kisses laterally, lips hitting your breast and moving towards your nipple. 

“I think we’ve established what those are,” you moan softly as he takes your nipple into his mouth. You let your hands run through his salt and pepper curls that you adore so much. 

“Can never be too thorough.” You giggle at him again and can feel him smile against you. “But fine, you want something new?” You nod, let your nails scratch gently at his scalp. 

“Nipple,” he kisses your nipple and then down your torso to right above your belly button, “to navel is no man’s land.” He continues to lavish kisses on the soft skin of your stomach before looking up at you when you don’t respond. 

“I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me or not.” You eye him with mock suspicion. 

He laughs and it’s your favorite sound in the whole world, you swear. Well maybe second, only behind hearing him tell you that he loves you. 

“I’m not. Nipple to navel is no man’s land. It’s a real thing. It’s one of the worst places to get shot or stabbed because there’s so many organs that could be hit and the place we’d expect to get hit would depend on whether the person was breathing in or out at the time, whether their lungs were inflated or deflated. And we generally have no way of knowing. It can be difficult to get clear imaging.” He starts kissing lower, down below your belly button, rubbing his stubble along your skin to tease you as he gets lower and lower. “It’s never a good time. Lots of poor outcomes.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s supposed to be his day off and yet Jack finds himself staring at the board and running a hand over his face. “It’s still so fucking weird seeing you here during the day and it not meaning something catastrophic has happened.” 

Jack turns to look at Dana. “I’ve been working days for a month now and it’s my day off.”

“You can go, we’re fine for now,” Robby nods at Jack. “Thanks for the brief assistance brother.”

“No, no,” Dana interjects, “he’s not allowed to leave until we nail down a time to meet his girl.” 

Robby raises his eyebrows and starts to tilt his head and open his mouth to agree with Dana. A dispatch comes through before anyone can say anything else and Dana grabs it, pinning Jack down with her eyes, daring him to leave before discussing meeting you. 

“Saved by the bell,” Jack huffs, taking his stethoscope off and starting to walk away. 

“Shooting at a courthouse,” Dana relays to Robby, “not a mass cas, just a few people, two a little iffy, one they’re already doing CPR on, a few caught in the race to get out. Two dead on the scene.”

It takes a few seconds for Dana’s words to truly register with Jack, but when they do his hearing fades to only a sharp ringing in his ear. This wasn’t happening. He’d been so reticent at the beginning of your relationship, waited so long to give in and define it and hand his heart over to you, terrified he’d lose you because of himself and who he was, his imperfections, his past, his trauma, his PTSD, his baggage, as he thought of it. He feels so stupid now, in the moment, not having worried about how he could lose you from a random act of violence, that in the moments he can’t be there to protect you somebody could come in and rip you from him. Just like that. With the pull of a trigger. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You know, I can confidently say this is the most unique date I’ve ever been on,” you tease Jack. 

“Hey,” he pants, “me teaching you CPR is a great date.” 

“It would be better if you took your shirt off,” you whisper and wink at him before letting your eyes linger on his arm. 

“If I did that you’d be so distracted you’d learn nothing,” he smirks at you, sweat glistening on his skin just a little. Just enough to drive you nearly feral for him. 

 “I think I’ve got the compressions part down, but I may need more help learning the mouth to mouth part.”

He rolls his eyes at you. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You fucking love it,” you shoot back at him, leaning into his space and bumping him with your shoulder. 

He can’t help but kiss you. “Yes,” the word is muffled against your lips, “yes I do.” He gives you a firmer kiss this time before he pulls away. “But really. You should know how to do it, just in case. It will help you feel in control in the moment if the need for it ever arises. You’ll know what to do.”

You bite your lip and smile at him. 

“What?” He eyes you with suspicion. 

You shrug. “Nothing, I just love you so much. Sometimes it overwhelms me, how much I love you.”

He can see it in your eyes, how much you love him, can almost feel it physically squeezing him like a tight hug. He’s really not sure what he ever did to deserve you or your love. “I love you too, Doll.”

“I love you more, Peter.” Your face pulls up into that usual self-satisfied and silly grin you get sometimes when you call him that nickname. It’s a recent thing. You’re calling him it more and more though, it’s becoming a natural way of referring to him. From anyone else he would hate it, hearing it between another couple would make him roll his eyes. But from you? He loves it more than you’ll ever truly know. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack spins around.

“Jack you can still go, we’ve got it covered.” Robby looks at Jack for a minute and then meets Dana’s eyes as she looks to him after taking her own look at Jack. 

“What courthouse?” Jack asks. It’s quiet, controlled and clipped and almost missable in the chaos of the ED. He’s not looking at either of them, staring past them at a wall with a chest heaving more and more by the second as his face grows paler. 

He tries to keep it together. Dana will say the name and it won’t be your courthouse and he’ll go straight to your actual courthouse, grab you, take you home and never let you leave. A perfectly reasonable reaction, he thinks.

“Jack-”

“What fucking courthouse?” It’s louder this time, almost enough to pause the chaos of the ED. 

Jack’s voice drips with what sounds like rage to most of those who hear him but is unmistakably fear to Dana and Robby. 

Neither of them have ever seen Jack like this, this scared, struggling this hard to keep it together, truly raising his voice for anything other than to quiet down an unruly patient. His eyes find Dana’s and they’re glassier than she’s ever seen them, the intensity of his gaze making it painfully clear he’s hanging on every word and the wrong ones will shatter him. 

She swallows and opens her mouth and Jack knows what she’s about to say before she even says it. And she does. The name of your courthouse. 

“I’ll triage.” He says it before Dana has even finished, the words hollow and breathless and commanding all at once. He spins and starts off to the bay doors with nothing more. He obviously knows from the report Dana gave that they won’t need triage. He just needed to get out of there and try to create an excuse to stay in the ambulance bay. He knows Robby won’t let him, that Robby and Dana already know you’re at that courthouse, could be a victim. 

Robby and Dana share another look, So you work at a courthouse. This courthouse. “Fuck,” Dana mutters, “I really hope we don’t end up meeting her today.”

Jack’s hand dives in his pocket as he strides to the ambulance bay. He already knows in his heart that there’s not going to be a text from you saying that you’re okay. He hasn’t felt his phone buzz. He never even kept his phone on him until you. 

Even though he knew he wouldn’t have any messages, waking his phone and seeing none hits him like a freight train all the same, right in the chest. It threatens to bring him to his knees, make him sick, but he can’t. He sets it all aside. If you do come out of one of the ambulances he can hear in the distance you’re going to need him at his best. But what if you’re one of the two people dead at the scene? He has to shove that out of his mind too, can’t give into the complete panic that threatens to consume him. 

Disassociate. Compartmentalize. Do the job. ABC. Assess. Stabilize. Repeat.

His fingers fly across his phone automatically, calling you having become so routine. He prefers it so much to texting, hearing your voice, communicating more directly. “Call me,” he starts, “the second you get this message. Or fucking text me,” his voice breaks, “please. Fucking please.” He hangs up and calls again, knowing he’ll get your voicemail again but trying anyway because it’s all he can do. 

He’s helpless, powerless, he can’t do anything to try and save you and that threatens to swallow him whole. 

Your voicemail recording telling people to leave a message plays again and all Jack can wonder is if this is all he’ll have left of your voice in his life. Your voice on your mailbox, maybe some voicemails you’ve left him, videos, voice memos you’ve sent. All distorted by recording, not your real voice. He can’t remember what your real voice sounds like all of the sudden. What your laugh sounds like, how you sound when you’re sleepy or in the throes of pleasure or telling him you love him. God, did he even tell you he loved you the last time he saw you, when he said goodbye? 

“I need you to call me,” he says into the phone again, pauses. “I love you.” He takes a ragged breath in and speaks through his teeth. “I love you so fucking much, so you have to be okay and you have to fucking call me.”

He sends a series of texts asking you to call him or text him or call the hospital or do anything to let him know you’re okay, asking if you are okay, asking where you are as though you’re going to respond. He already knows you’re in the back of one of those ambulances because of fucking course you are, because he’s not allowed to have anything good in his life apparently. How could he be so stupid to think differently?  

“Hey, we don’t need triage for this. The numbers are controlled.” Robby walks out to stand next to Jack in the ambulance bay. “If you want to stay you can, but you can’t wait out here to see who shows up, you have to-”

“Yeah, yeah, jump on the first patient that pulls up, I know, I got it,” he interrupts Robby. 

There’s a silence as Robby passes him a gown and ties for him before he does the same for Robby. 

“Jack, if she’s in one you cannot-”

“Like fuck I can’t.” It’s just a statement. Cool and collected and a projection of indifference. It scares Robby more than if Jack had yelled. 

“No, actually brother, you can’t. I’m telling you right now. You’re not working on her. We don’t work on family, on significant others, and you would tell me the exact same thing. It’s too risky, you’ll be too clouded.” Robby watches Jack’s jaw clench and roll as he stares out at the street. 

He wants to argue that of course he’ll be clear, he’ll be focusing on saving you, he’ll have never been so clear in his life. But part of him knows that seeing you like that on his trauma table, your blood all over the table and him and his hands might make him freeze.

“Fine.” Jack whispers. “But if she’s,” Jack has to pause and take a shuddery breath. “If she’s gone or really going and it’s inevitable you have to let me in. You have to let me try to save her. You have to let me code her, Michael.”

He can taste the rising bile in his throat just at having to talk about coding you.

The first ambulance pulls up before Robby can respond and Jack’s on it so fast Robby’s surprised Jack doesn’t get smacked in the face by the door opening. 

It’s not you. It’s someone who is very much not you and is clearly one of the iffy ones. 

Disassociate. Compartmentalize. Do the job. ABC. Assess. Stabilize. Repeat.

Jack forces himself to go emotionally numb as he listens to the paramedic rattle off vitals and history, trying so very hard to focus on this, something he can do, even if it’s not for you. By the time they hit trauma one Jack’s fine and in full swing, running it like he would any other trauma. Nobody on the team in the room with him suspects anything is amiss.  

He hates the way he can’t see the other’s who come in, that he has to stay with this patient until they’re stable and can’t go looking for you. He chastises himself for not having brought you here before or at least having you meet Dana and Robby. They don’t even know what you look like, couldn’t identify you.

“Jack!” He glances at Dana who stands at the door as he preps for the chest tube. “What’s her name?”

He yells your name at her, impassive and stoic as he reaches for the scalpel, ignoring the looks everyone throws each other at the slightest tremor in his voice.

“I’ll look for her.” Dana promises. He doesn’t respond. He can’t. He’ll fall apart. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The restaurant you’re at has to be the fanciest place you’ve ever been to. It’s the hottest place in the city and you have no idea how Jack snagged reservations here for dinner to finish out celebrating your one year anniversary. 

The lighting and low hum of other patrons talking to each other and glasses and silverware and plates tinkling is cinematic. You feel like the main character. But then that’s always how Jack makes you feel. 

“I got you something.” He pulls out a wrapped rectangular object. 

You click your tongue and tsk at him. “We said we’d do them at home! I didn’t bring yours!”

“I know. I have something for you at home too.” His eyes sparkle in the flickering candle light, a little smirk pulling up. “I didn’t mean for it to be a double entendre, but both are true.” You snort a laugh at him and take the gift from him. “Open it.” He’s still smiling, eyes still sparkling,  but there’s something there. He’s nervous. It makes you even more curious. 

You carefully unwrap the object until it reveals itself as a hardcover book. That same one Jack had in his hand a year ago and that you told him was bad and gave him a summary of over coffee. 

“Oh, Jack,” you say softly, eyes getting a little watery. It’s so perfect. So sweet and sentimental. The book that brought you together, that gave you each other. It’s almost like a physical representation of the foundation of your relationship in a way. 

“You have to open it,” he instructs you in a whisper.

You raise an eyebrow but do as he says. 

‘Move in with me?’ is written on the blank first page. 

You look between the page and Jack. “Is this?” You look back at the page and then up at him again. “Are you really asking…?”

He nods. “Move in with me. Or move somewhere with me, we can get our own place, it doesn’t have to be my apartment. We basically live together anyway at this point. Let’s just make it official, yeah? Wherever you want, you can decorate however you want. Just as long as it’s our place.”

You bring a hand to your mouth for a second before using your napkin to dab at the inner corners of your eyes to stop the tears from falling and look back at him. 

“You’re a romantic, Jack Abbot,” you hum all dreamily. 

“You better not tell anyone. Can’t have you ruining my street cred.” He smirks, but his expression and the way he fidgets show he’s still anxious. “So?”

You realize then you never actually answered him. Sniffling a little laugh and letting a few tears fall you give him his answer, voice thick and full of emotion. “Yeah, I think I’m willing to accept those terms. I’d love to move in with you… Peter.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He hears you counting to yourself before he sees you. “One, two…”

It’s not loud, just said in a normal voice, softer if anything because of how you’re panting, but Jack is so on edge and so desperate to find you he’d subconsciously been listening closely to his surroundings, military training kicking in. His head snaps to you and he doesn’t even know what to think when he sees you being rolled in on top of a gurney, performing CPR that would rival the quality of his own. 

“Why is she..?” He hears Robby question the paramedic as you roll in. 

“She was performing them just as well as we could and it was better to just scoop and run,” the paramedic explains. “She must have had one hell of an instructor.”

“Peter!” You yell, without looking up, not sure if he’s still here. You’re so used to it by now that the nickname is just what comes out of your mouth as you look for him. He’d texted you to let you know he was going in for a bit.  

Jack could sob and the entire team in the room with him can feel a crushing tension shatter. Maybe he does get a little teary just from the sheer relief. He tells himself it’s sweat in his eyes.

“Yeah Doll?” He yells back, not giving a fuck about everyone hearing him call you Doll, and you calling him Peter, knowing full well he’s going to have so much explaining to do about this entire situation, the confusion in the room palpable. 

“I’m okay!” This time he does laugh to himself. 

“Yeah I’d say so,” he mutters, smiling. He’s still anxious to see you, get his own eyes on you, feel you with his own hands. 

It’s only about thirty more seconds before his patient is stable enough and he can rip his gloves and gown off and start putting fresh gloves on as he walks into the trauma room you’d been wheeled into. Normally he’d yell out for someone to talk to him or ask what they’ve got but not this time. This time he doesn’t even care about who’s on the table, only the person who came off it. Only you. 

You’re standing to the side now, watching Robby and the rest of the team work, impassive as pink tears stream down your face from the dried blood on it. You’re just so fucking overwhelmed by everything and now that you’re not doing CPR everything that’s happened is hitting you at once. 

Jack says your name as he moves to you, needs his hands on you. 

“Are you hurt? Were you hit?” He rushes out. His voice brings you back and you look up at him with wide, terrified eyes. He goes to look you over but you latch onto him, hugging him tightly, shaking a bit. 

“I’m fine, I’m okay, I’m, I’m sorry,” you start to rattle off, fisting at his scrub top and clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. In the moment he might just be. 

He hugs you back just as hard, kisses the top of your head. He doesn’t care who sees right now, all he cares about is you. “It’s okay, you have nothing to apologize for. I’m just so fucking glad you’re okay. I thought… I thought you were…” He doesn’t have to finish, you know what he means. “I can’t fucking lose you. I love you way the fuck too much.”

You’ve been so wrapped up in each other neither of you have noticed that Robby’s patient, the one you were doing CPR on, has started to code again. “Abbot, need you here!”

You let him go, nod at him. “Go on,” you whisper, “I’ll be right here. I’m okay. I love you more.” Jack nods at you and walks over, jumping in and assisting Robby.

It’s once you’re out of Jack’s arms, away from his warm body and more grounded in reality that you notice how cold you are, how you’re swaying because he was supporting you far more than you realized, how lightheaded you are, how your abdomen and chest really fucking hurt. You chalk it up to the adrenaline wearing off and being sore from the chest compressions you just did. 

On the other side of the room an instrument tray gets knocked over, metal hitting the floor in a loud clang. It startles you, makes you jump and twist quickly to see what it was, if it was another gun, another shot. You feel something almost tearing, a sharp pain across your abdomen and lower chest, a feeling of sticky warmth against your shirt.

You sway a little, start to realize how much worse the pain is now. It’s bad enough that you can’t even make noise to express the pain. There’s no air in your lungs, you swear. You realize your lightheadedness is now much, much worse, that you’re shivering from how cold you are. Or are you just shaking? You can’t tell. It doesn’t make sense. The room isn’t even that cold. You shouldn’t be so cold. Not unless.

You pull your shirt up slowly and look down and run your hand over your skin and sure enough, there’s a bullet hole seeping blood, about half way between your nipple line and belly button, skin now covered in a dark bruise. 

You cough a little, it’s quiet. It starts feeling like there’s water in your lungs. Like you can’t get any oxygen in even though you’re in a room full of it. The metallic taste in your mouth is what manages to seep into what’s left of your consciousness next. You cough again, into your hand, and feel something wet hit your skin. Blood. 

It hits you. You’re drowning in your own blood. That’s why it feels like you can’t breathe. You’ve been shot. In a bad place, one of the worst places, Jack had told you that night. You get scared, feel your heart pounding. It feels like you’re dying. You don’t want to die, don’t want to leave Jack. You’d just finished moving into your new place together, were going to spend all weekend unpacking and painting and getting furniture where you wanted it. You were going to make your home.

Time. You were supposed to have more time together.

“Hey, Jack,” you slur softly, struggling to keep yourself standing. Luckily he hears you. Your use of his first name and the slur to your voice has him panicking again already. Time slows as he turns around to take you in, eyes going from your face and the blood coating your teeth and trickling from your mouth as you try and smile reassuringly at him, down to your torso where you’re still holding your shirt up just enough for him and everyone else in the room to see the bullet hole and bruising marring your skin. “I think, I think I’m not good, it’s not good.” Your vision tunnels so fast you can just barely see Jack’s expression of sheer abject unadulterated horror and panic as you get out your last words. “Nipples to navel… no man’s land.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter. Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter. Yes, I worked in a bookstore through college.

Part Two is up!

[no-144444]

the grid: can you fight?

꩜ featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, George Russell, Kimi Antonelli, Alex Albon, Carlos Sainz, Daniel Riccardo, Liam Lawson, Max Verstappen, Charles LeClerc, Lewis Hamilton, Ollie Bearman, Jack Doohan, Franco Colapinto, & Paul Aron

꩜ banner creds: bronzewasp

Oscar Piastri: nonchalant 

McLaren media days were usually long and boring, and today was no different. Thankfully, they were on the last video, reading thirst tweets? Whatever that meant. Oscar had an ipad open in front of him, and he scrolled past a tweet that read ‘face card is insane’, not really understanding what the meant, but thanking the poster anyway. The next tweet was a picture of you, and a caption, ‘can you fight @.oscarpiastri ?’. Beside the photo of you, was a particularly terrible photo of himself. He stopped, lingering on your photo. It was a photo he knew well, the photo he keeps in his wallet. You, looking like a fucking goddess in a photobooth. Him, looking like a twat. He laughed (probably too hard), and Lando joined in. 

“So this one is a photo of my fiancé, and says ‘can you fight?’,” he explained. “I’d like to think I could hold my own, especially for Y/n,” he chuckled, Lando dying of laughter beside him. “But I probably couldn’t take on all of her fans.” 

“Mate,” Lando wheezed. “You look possessed!”

“I wasn’t, I was just arguing,” he chuckled. Lando’s laughter was becoming offensive now. “I don’t look that bad!”

“Sure mate, sure,” he giggled, wiping his tears away. 

Lando Norris: Crazy town! 

He was busy scrolling on instagram, post after post of you coming up on his feed. He was not complaining. You looked so hot in every single edit, every picture, everyone agreed too. He felt his ego grow. He’d bagged you. He’d convinced you to go out with him. Holy shit. 

One caption caught his eyes though. ‘@.landonorris, can you fight?’. He frowned. Obviously. Of course he could fight. Of course he would fight. You were his girlfriend. 

He did what he did best, and commented. Probably wasn’t the best idea since Zak called him maybe 10 minutes later. 

Oops!

What was the comment, you may ask?

landonorris I can fight and fuck, why do you think she stays with me?

George Russell: actually couldn't care less 

“Can you fight George Russell?” he repeated, reading the caption of the edit. The Mercedes media team giggled behind the camera as Kimi clapped a hand on his shoulder, laughing a little too hard. “I’d hope so, considering this many people want to steal my girlfriend from me,” he chuckled. “Blimey!” he stared at the photo in front of him. It was one of his favourites, one that he’d taken. One where you’d kissed him after he took it, so happy with his work. “I know she’s beautiful, but she is my girlfriend, and the internet should remember that.” 

“Maybe you need to post her more,” Kimi shrugged. 

George rolled his eyes. “Are we really getting to the stage where Kimi is giving me social media advice? What’s he going to do next, take over my instagram for a day?”

“That’s a good idea,” he heard the social media manager mumble. He face-palmed. 

“Anyway, back to the problem at hand,” he cleared his throat. “Yes, I can fight.” 

“No you can’t!” Lando cackled from nearby. 

George just stared at the camera as everyone else laughed.

Kimi Antonelli: logical 

“Can I fight?” he read out the caption of a fan edit of you. He giggled nervously. “Why would I need to? We’re already together.” 

“It’s just something people say online,” George chuckled. “People ask me the same all the time.”

“Well, this person doesn’t even know her, right? How would they think she’d pick them over me?” 

George was laughing now, amused by how literally Kimi was taking this. “Mate, it’s a joke.”

“Well, they posted it!” Kimi argued back. “Clearly they meant something!”

George actually couldn’t respond. He was laughing too much.  “My gosh,” he tutted, scrolling past the post. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Alex Albon: secure 

“‘Can I fight?’, yes, and I will,” his voice was sharp and Carlos giggled beside him. “Y/n is my girlfriend. She wouldn’t choose you anyway, but if we must fight, yes, I would win. Next!” he sassed as he scrolled to the next post. It was another one of you and him, ‘how did he do it?’. He rolled his eyes. “My irresistible charm and handsome face,” he deadpanned to the camera and Carlos was busy dying of laughter beside him. “Next,” he scrolled again, and it was a picture of you and Alex after he proposed to you, ‘if he ever proposed to me in b-board shorts (!!!) and a linen shirt, he’s getting a no’, and he stared at the camera. “Are you fucking joking? What is wrong with that outfit?!” he demanded, as the entire media team doubled over with laughter, Carlos almost falling out of his chair. “People online are too nit-picky these days,” he shook his head.

Carlos Sainz: pisses him off lmao

He rolled his eyes as yet another thirst edit of you with an insanely graphic caption appeared on his tiktok. “Fuck’s sake,” he cursed. Your ears perked up and you started to rub his back again. 

“Alright?” you asked, eyes still on your computer, glued to whatever film you were both meant to be watching, but he’d turned over the look at his phone instead. You hadn’t seemed to mind. 

“Why do all of your fans and mine want to fight me?” he groaned, stretching his arms above his head as he turned around, burying his face in your neck. “Fucking stupid.” 

You giggled. “Not my fault I’m sexy.” 

“All your fault you’re sexy,” he said, muffled by your hoodie. His hand ventured up your hoodie, not uncommon, so you didn’t say anything. “We should release a sex tape or something-”

“Are you fucking crazy?!” you squealed, shoving his hand out from under your top. “Do you want my career to be over?!” 

He shrugged. “People could see just how much you want me,” he moved closer somehow, as you stared back at him, dumbfounded, jaw dropped. He chuckled. “That’s usually how you look when you-”

“Shut up Carlos!

Daniel Riccardo: smug bastard! 

“‘Can you fight?’, yes, but I don’t need to,” he laughed, his smile bright and smug. The photo in front of him was one of you at an Enchanté event, taking pictures with fans. You looked radiant. If only the public knew he took you home and fucked you on the counter the second you tow got in the door. 

“You don’t need to?” Max spurred him on. 

“Nope,” he proudly shook his head. “I’ve got some photos on my phone-”

“Enough!” their media manager shouted, cutting him off. “Stop talking!”

Both of them burst into laughter, doubling over. When they finally calmed down, Daniel winked at the camera. “Don’t worry, I’d never show them.”

Liam Lawson: out of his league

“Yes, I can fight,” he rolled his eyes, scrolling past it, only to be met with another one. You in various posts he’d made, photos he’d taken, days he remembered. He adored you, it was clear to anyone. You were the majority of his insta feed. “I know she’s gorgeous-”

“And out of your league,” Yuki added, smirking. 

Liam’s jaw dropped. “Fuck off!” he laughed. “She is not-! Ok, maybe yeah she is, but come on man,” he chuckled. “Give me a break!” 

“Mate, I’m just being truthful,” he shrugged. “She’s totally out of your league.”

Liam scoffed. “I know! But we don’t have to point it out!”

“I mean, we can though,” Yuki laughed. “We could also mention the fact that she asked you out, and not the other way around.”

“Well I was hardly going to ask her out, she’s out of my league!”

Max Verstappen: annoying

“Why do your fans want to fight me?”he scoffed, throwing his phone down on the bed, between you two. He turned to look at you, and you continued reading. He rolled his eyes and pulled the book out of your hands, much to your dismay. He bookmarked it and placed it on his bedside table, then turned back to you. You were scowling at him. 

“What?” you demanded. 

“Why do your fans want to fight me?” he asked again, his hands reaching for you. 

“I don’t fucking know,” you scoffed. “Give me back my book Max.”

“Come here,” he chuckled, pulling you closer to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs intertwining with his. He pressed his lips to yours, gently, and you melted into him. He loved this, the gentle and slow nights he got with you. Enjoying the silence you gave each other. He pulled back, a smug smile on his lips. “Your fans couldn’t do that.”

You rolled your eyes and reached behind his head, grabbing your book back. “I’d let anyone do that if it meant they wouldn’t steal my book,” you shot back, turning the other way from him. He chuckled and squeezed your ass. 

“Brat,” he smirked. 

You flipped him off in return, but he knew you were smiling. 

Charles LeClerc: so pathetic it’s insane

“I will not fight!” he announced, startling Lewis beside him. They were just meant to be replying to thirst tweets, but he’d fallen down a rabbit hole. He turned his head up to the camera, completely serious. “She chose me! She doesn’t want any of you!”

Lewis started laughing beside him, the hilarity of it all getting to him. 

“She’s my wife! Look!” he held up his ring finger with the golden wedding band you’d placed just mere months ago. He hadn’t taken it off yet. “She loves me!” 

“I think they get it mate,” Lewis chuckled. 

“They better,” he scoffed. “Right, onto the next one!”

Lewis Hamilton: lowkey freaky (actually just sassy!)

“Lewis, can you fight?!” one of the fans cheered from the side of the carpet. He rolled his eyes as you laughed, waving at the fan before starting to walk over there. Not on his watch. He pulled you back by his hand on your wrist and smirked. The crowd roared at the interaction between the two of you. 

“You’re not going over there,” he murmured. 

“I have to see what he’s offering,” you teased, your voice low so as to not be picked up by the hundreds of cameras pointed at the two of you. “Maybe it’s better-”

“Nothing is better than us,” his grip on your waist tightened. “Need me to remind you?”

“You’re talking a lot of game, old man,” you chuckled, kissing his cheek. “Don’t forget your abilities now.” 

He scoffed in your face, his jaw dropping. “Bitch,” he sassed, making you laugh. “Don’t piss me off.”

You acquiesced, kissing his lips before taking his hand and leading him further up the carpet. 

Ollie Bearman: used to it 

“Can you fi-” he cut himself off, scrolling on. “We’re not doing that.” 

“It’s a genuine question Ollie,” Kimi nudged him. Their first interview together since they moved to F1 was meant to be about tweets on Bearelli, but it had quickly sent them down a rabbit-hole of their own girlfriends. 

“Shut up mate,” he scoffed, scrolling again and only finding more and more questions on whether or not he could keep you. Kimi just kept laughing. “You won’t be laughing in a minute when these are about you.” 

Jack Doohan: embarrassed 

Jack had learnt that Pierre was the kind of guy to keep a joke going, but he never thought it’d get this far. They had been looking at thirst tweets, and one of you had come up, asking if Jack could fight, but he’d gone bright red the second your name was mentioned. Pierre cackled beside him as he held his head in his hands, wishing for the world to swallow him up. Come race day, Pierre had hidden print-outs of the tweet all over the Alpine garage. 

“J, why is this on your wall?” you questioned as you held up one of the print-outs. 

He went bright red. Again. 

Franco Colapinto: (shockingly) normal

“So Franco, since you and your girlfriend Y/n have gone public with your relationship, many people on the internet have one question, can you fight?” the host chuckled. 

“Can I fight? Yes, yes I can fight. I don’t need to though, my girlfriend loves me,” he laughed, looking to you. You were so embarrassed, I mean, head-in-hands embarrassed. He continued on, never stopping to think about what he was saying. “No, but I do understand, my Y/n is very beautiful, and I am very lucky. I love her very much. Anyway, most people couldn’t handle her, if you get what I mean.” 

“Well said,” the host laughed, trying to continue with some sort of professionalism. “Got some brownie points there.” 

“Hopefully,” Franco winked at you, as you stood behind the camera, shocked by his statement.

Paul Aron: sassy queen! 

“‘Can I fight’? Have you seen me?” he flexed his arm up, showing off his (huge) arms, as you laughed beside him. He shook his head. “Silly, silly people,” he tutted. “It is a nice photo though, you look very beautiful,” he turned to you. 

“Thanks baby,” you murmured back, scrolling on and only seeing more calls for Paul to step aside and let others in. 

He stared the camera down as you were distracted and mouthed ‘she’s mine’ to the many viewers.

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

mclaren masterlist (OP81 &LN4)

ferrari masterlist (CL16, LH44 & AL65 )

williams & mercedes masterlist (GR63, KA12, CS55 LS2 &AA23)

redbull & vcarb masterlist (MV1, DR3 & LL40)

alpine masterlist (JD7, PA17, FC43)

[madamechrissy]

Escort! Satoru- part five

Pairings- Escort Satoru Gojo x shy CEO F! reader

Warnings- mutual pining like a mf, obsessed ass/whipped ass Gojo, mutual pining, lots of yearninggg, kissing (I KNOW YAYYY) dry humping, teasing, fingering, public play, fluffy and cute- there will be a part six! (final) pretty woman vibes 🤭

<<<Part Four - Final Part>>>

Escort! Satoru finally does it, he asks you on that date, watching the shock in your eyes, the trembling of your lips as you step back, and Satoru feels it then, the hammering of his heart. Is it too late? Should he have reached out again to you after the first night, when you didn't answer? His blue eyes peer at you over those glasses, as the sunlight beats down on your skin, making his cheeks just a little reddened, striking across his pale skin.

Escort! Satoru eases his hands gently off your face, when you swallow nervously - he hurt you so badly that night, the embarrassment of asking him to hold you, dying for a mere kiss on the lips. How could you be so foolish, truly, you had to try to forget him in any way you could, after sleeping with him and knowing he would never be yours, always sharing him, he was just there because of your money and maybe he enjoyed it. But it wasn't more.

Escort! Satoru realizes how much he fucking missed you now, as if some void is filled by your presence, but you lower his hands gently, holding them for a moment. 'I was so...' stupid, you were stupid 'I'm very sorry I asked you for things you never do,' you sigh, looking around, seeing people walk by. 'I should have respected your-' Satoru stops you then, tilting your chin up, your gaze focused on him. 'I should have held you, okay? I'm sorry...' you feel your eyes fill with the tears, as words you've dreamed of are spoken, and they feel just like that- a dream. 'I want a real date, could we?'

Escort! Satoru eyes you when your phone rings, and you look down nervously. 'I have a date tonight, the first in... years' Satoru steps back now, glaring at you. 'With who?' you blink in surprise. 'Why does it matter to you? Do you think after months I wouldn't ever wanna try?' Satoru grips your wrist, thumb brushing against the veins gently, sending shivers down your spine, as he tries to compose himself, he has no right to be so mad, so jealous. 'Fine, then give me a date after' he murmurs, desperate for you, how can he see you and not try? After everything he's been yearning for appears before him, and he knows how badly he fucked up. 'I don't know...' you want to, god you do, but you also know how badly Satoru can hurt you, uniquely. 'Please just, give me a chance to explain myself, to be myself and not...' he trails off, the wind blows gently and a little blossom lands on your hair, which he sweetly brushes away. 'One chance'

Escort! Satoru is furious thinking about anyone touching you, though it's toxic and unrealistic in every aspect. His job was to touch, though he'd throw it all away if you asked, god he would, because he doesn't find joy in any of it. No amount of money fills this emptiness, but he never thought he'd have a chance with you - only to ruin it. 'I'll go out with you this weekend, but you pick the place, and pick me up' you say softly, his heart thuds as he nods eagerly, desperate and pathetic for you - something he's never been until you ruined him with just your energy, your body, that laugh he'd love to have back. Memories of your night fill him then, as he aches to touch you, to know you, to kiss you.

Escort! Satoru plans the date to a tee, but the whole time he's wondering - where are you going, and with who? Would you prefer them over him? Meanwhile you're trying to get through that date, mind wandering, you just tried to open up for the first time since Satoru broke your heart - even if it was your own fault. You try to smile, and enjoy him, a handsome man that surely was perfect on paper, and interested in you. As the night goes on and the drinks pour, you think to yourself, you should try, letting him kiss you at the end of the evening, wondering what you'll feel. It's nice, but it's nothing like just being near Satoru. Frustrated almost to tears, you're laying in bed that night, as the man in your head that you almost pushed down enough, is back front and center.

Escort! Satoru can't stand it, knowing you're on a date, he almost texts you so many times before he caves - 'ready for our date?'- he smirks, hoping your with whoever it was. But you don't answer him for hours, until you finally write him - yes - and that's it, no sweet banter like the two of you had. It's different, had you really already moved on? He trembles as he texts you - 'how was the date?' - and you write - 'it was fine, any jobs tonight? - and that's when he realizes you're mad. The sweetest girl he met is so clearly mad. He hadn't taken a job tonight, and he's cancelled his week, but he gets it clearly. - 'no job tonight, I'm excited to see you' - He's never said that to anyone. You heart the message, emotions catching, excitement but apprehension in equal parts, you just don't know if he's serious, you're so scared to let go again.

Escort! Satoru picks you up that night in his car, some little Maserati sports car that looks like it goes way too fast. You can't act like he's not sexy as fuck as he steps out of it, opening your door and grinning at you, but you try to hold back, smiling with a 'thank you' as you slide in next to him. Satoru's hand craves to press on your thigh, but fuck if he's not nervous, he hasn't had a date since he started this career despite his job being to go on dates, not a real one, not with someone he asked. He's damn near shaking with his nerves, trying to play it off, as he drives through the quiet streets, smiling over at you with a quirk of his lips. 'You look beautiful' his words make you flustered, nervously tugging a bit on the gorgeous dress you're wearing, glittering like the stars in the sky - fuck your very skin itself glitters. 'you're saying it truly this time?'

Escort! Satoru glares now, foot on his break, scowling at you. 'what do you mean truly? you think I didn't mean any of it?' you blink back unexpected tears, looking out the dark tinted window as he drives once more. 'It was your job, that's all, and I told you I took it too far, you shouldn't feel bad that happened. I - ah!' he skids to a stop suddenly, pulling off the side of the road, and unbuckling your seatbelt so fast you can barely register. He's got you on his lap so fast, as cars whirl by, shaking the fucking car and shocking you further, as he handles you like it's nothing. You brace your hands on his chest, so nervous now, hands clenching the black jacket of his tux, breaths faster and faster. 'You are beautiful, I never said that because of a job' he swipes away your tears, lips hovering over yours, as he exhales, breath tickling your lips. 'What are you doing, Satoru?' your whisper is weak, as he drags you even closer, and his eyes dart to your lips. 'What I should have done that night'

Escort! Satoru slams his lips on yours then and there, you feel it like hot, electric shots going through your body when he does, when he's pressing those plush, glossy lips on yours, and you're shattering over him, lost in his kiss. Satoru has never felt anything like it, like finally kissing you, his tongue slipping in your mouth, drinking up your every cry, every gasp, as you roll your hips just right, and he feels the heat he's been dying for against his aching cock. 'Fuck...' his hushed words are met with your little cry, which just has him dragging you down harder, ready to devour every sweet inch of you, but barely being able to drag himself from your lips, gasping as he pulls back, eyes meeting yours, glimmering now. 'Satoru you... kissed me...' you're close to crying now, trembling as he sighs, cupping your pretty face, the one that's haunted him. 'I've wanted to since I first saw you'

Escort! Satoru keeps kissing you, over and over, desperate and messy, you almost cum just from that friction against you, his teeth sinking into your lower lip, as his huge hands press into your skin. 'I need you, fuck I need you sweetheart- god you have no clue' you're easing back, struggling to compose yourself. 'Am I so VIP?' you tease softly, and he feels it then, the soft way you're asking - not judging, but scared. He exhales, resting his head on yours, shaking his head and pulling you down again. 'I'll gladly delete my whole fucking profile, for a chance with you' his words sink in fully. Your cheeks are hot under his gentle touch. 'I just don't... Satoru, you don't have to do this for me. I understand...' He kisses you once more, before your phone rings.

Escort! Satoru glares, and you can't help but giggle. 'Are you jealous?' he just sets his jaw, as you look over and see it, holding the phone with a shaky hand, and he pulls you harder on his cock, having your eyes roll back in your skull. 'Tell him you're on a date' he whispers, gripping you so tight, before easing you to sit back in your seat, kissing you over and over. 'Let's get there, okay?' you're trying to compose yourself, seeing him shift and wince while he drives once more, pouting. 'You enjoying my pain, sweets?' you can't help but giggle again. The date is pretty and serene, the restaraunt on the roof top, swathed in moonlight. Satoru feeds you carefully, the two of you sharing dessert, talking and laughing like the first time he fucking met you - when he knew then, something was so special about you, something he could never pin fully, but he sees it, with how the candle light hits your face, your sweet blush as his hand slips up your thigh.

Escort! Satoru is not happy to learn you've had a kiss, and your amused little smile is quickly lost, when he slips his fingers between your thighs, and you wildly look around, as he smirks at you. 'That's cute, you kissed? did you like that?' he's taunting now, possessive gaze, that you can't get enough of, fuck you want all of him, even though you're scared, so scared to be hurt again. He's pressing his fingers against your panties, which are soaked, watching as your eyes get lidded, hand gripping the thick white cloth, and he slips under then, feeling the heat he'd been dying for, leaning in close. 'Asked you a question, hmm?' you lean closer, hips shifting, jerking as he thumbs your twitchy little clit, making you gush. 'Would you be mad if I liked it, Satoru?' he sighs, slipping two fingers in your slick hole, making you almost moan in the fucking restaurant now. 'You're wet for me, aren't you, all me?' He's curling them now, acting so casual as a waitress refills your wine, and you pray no one hears the squishing noises your juices are making.

Escort! Satoru can't help but suck you off his fingers, right before he makes you cum, and you're throbbing around nothing, wanting. You're clenching your teeth as you watch, as if he's finishing his dessert- and when he tastes you again!? He can barely control himself, eyes dilated while you sink into his tastebuds, ready to finally give you what you want, and need, and deserve, fuck you so good you can't function, and hold and kiss you. Satoru slips his lips on yours in front of the restaurant, and you taste yourself, whining into his lips. Suddenly a girl sees him, a frequent client who'd gotten too obsessed, and walks right up to him, crossing her arms. He eases back in the seat, as you look down shyly, unsure of who she is. 'I'm on a date' his words make your heart flutter now, as she glares. 'ah, so you do kiss? was this some special package, do you know how expensive you are?' you bite back a smile, and Satoru just grins, shaking his head like a little shit. 'It's different, she's my girlfriend.'

Escort! Satoru blushes when you whisper 'your girlfriend, huh?' in his ear moments later, as a very angry client stomps off, and he brushes back your hair, hard body against yours, studying your face. 'Would you... be my girlfriend?'

taglist 1 @shydroid3000 @aducksmokingquack @miya4life @ravenbc @yenayaps @nezukuwu @etsuniiru @ieathairs @kenqki @princess-bblgm @belovedxiao @ninikrumbs @ieathairs @myahfig4 @theelegantpotato @vvaoo @aldebrana @celestep004 @whoisteona @ladyneisa @lililovely78 @gamerhere @wstaley2 @allthesqueaks @slut4donghyuck @maisiefrancesca @yittten @femaholicc @jjknanamin @that-b-word-lol @devastyle @mat-mat-mat @jkslaugh97 @ovela @mxgnolia @rikiswifeyyy @kaayyhunnyy @gojos1wife1 @arabellasolstice @01ve3rz @jud3thedude @firemoonlightfly @vyluvs @artist1936 @kyelikesanime @alygator77 @seternic @qlucoise @mysticranger575 @undermegumisbed

[jungwnies]

f1 grid (1/2) | dropping the towel

this photo of lando is taking me the fuck out rn LMFAO

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, & charles leclerc (click here for part two) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by 🫐) : pranking your boyfriend by pretending to drop your towel mid grwm (get ready with me), only to reveal you’re fully dressed...cue panic, confusion, and betrayal.

୨ৎ : genre : comedy ୨ৎ : tws : slightly suggestive ୨ৎ : word count : 857 (this is kinda short im shocked...)

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : this was so fun icl ... anon ily also... happy birthday!! <3 🥲

ʚ・max verstappen

you had your phone propped up, mid-grwm recording, casually explaining your "makeup routine" while max was somewhere in the apartment, completely unaware of what was about to happen.

the second you heard his footsteps approaching, you went for it.

with the most dramatic expression possible, you grabbed the edge of your towel and yanked it off.

fully clothed underneath.

max’s reaction was immediate.

before his brain could even process what was happening, he launched himself forward, arms wide, entire body blocking the camera like he was defending pole position.

“BABY?! are you CRAZY?? STOP—oh… wait.”

his breathing was slightly uneven, his eyes wide, staring at you.

then, realization hit him like a red bull one-two finish.

his arms slowly lowered, brows furrowed, blinking like he just lost a crucial race strategy.

you stood there, fully clothed, biting back laughter.

max just stared. processed. stared some more.

then, in a voice filled with betrayal and exhaustion—

“what the hell, y/n?! you almost gave me a heart attack!”

you couldn’t hold it in anymore, bursting into laughter, while he ran a hand down his face, shaking his head.

max turned away, muttering in rapid dutch, something about “stupid pranks” and how you were going to be the “end of him.”

as he walked off, still cursing under his breath, you called after him, “love you, babe!”

without turning around, he just threw a hand up in frustration, mumbling, “yeah, yeah…”

ʚ・lewis hamilton

you were mid-grwm, camera rolling, when lewis strolled into the room, green juice in hand, completely oblivious to the chaos about to unfold.

instead of questioning it, he immediately hyped you up.

“damn, babe, you’re bold today!” he smirked, watching you dramatically grab the edge of your towel.

you yanked it off with full confidence—revealing that you were completely clothed underneath.

silence.

lewis just stood there, blinking, processing the absolute betrayal he just witnessed.

hands slowly went to his hips.

“…so you woke up and chose violence?”

you were already cracking up, but lewis remained stone-faced, slowly sipping his juice with a level of dramatic flair only he could pull off.

your laughter only doubled, while he shook his head in disappointment.

for the rest of the day, he casually roasted your “failed execution.”

“at least make it believable, babe.”

“i expected more from you.”

“where’s the dedication? the art? the drama?”

by the end of it, you swore he was more upset about the lack of commitment than the prank itself.

ʚ・george russell

george walked into the room at the absolute worst (or best) possible moment—just as you dramatically grabbed the edge of your towel.

his eyes widened in immediate horror.

"y/n, what are you doing?! we have neighbors!"

his voice rose an octave, hands already halfway in the air as if preparing to shield you from an imaginary audience.

then—you ripped off the towel.

fully clothed.

silence.

a long, deep, exasperated sigh left his lips, relief washing over him like he just avoided a pr disaster.

“i genuinely thought i was about to have a scandal on my hands.”

you were dying laughing, while george simply pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering to himself as he straightened imaginary wrinkles on his already perfectly crisp shirt.

“you’re insufferable, i swear.”

as he walked out, still grumbling about your antics, you caught him checking the window blinds...just in case.

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos walked into the room, immediately spotting you recording something suspicious.

his eyes narrowed.

“por favor, don’t do something crazy.”

you simply smirked, dramatically gripping the towel like you were about to change the course of his life.

carlos tensed.

and then—you yanked it off.

fully clothed.

carlos didn’t react at first.

instead, he looked around the room suspiciously, checking corners, squinting at the ceiling like there was a hidden camera crew lurking nearby.

“where are the cameras? lando put you up to this, no?”

you were wheezing, but carlos was still fully convinced this was some kind of elaborate scheme.

even after you swore it was just a prank, he shook his head, laughing.

“one day, i will get you back. hard.”

something about the way he said it made you gulp.

ʚ・charles leclerc

charles walked in at the exact moment you grabbed the towel, your expression all too mischievous.

his eyes widened in pure panic.

“mon amour, what are you doing?!”

in true dramatic fashion, he stumbled forward, nearly tripping over his own feet in a desperate attempt to stop the inevitable.

but before he could reach you—you yanked the towel off.

fully clothed.

he froze.

one hand went straight to his chest, like he had just been personally victimized.

“you want me to die young, is that it?”

you were already doubled over in laughter, but charles wasn’t done.

with a deep sigh, he dramatically collapsed onto the nearest chair, running a hand through his hair like he had aged ten years.

muttering in french, he shook his head.

“ma copine est complètement folle… (my girlfriend is completely crazy…)”

still recovering from his fake near-death experience, he peeked up at you.

“you enjoyed that too much.”

you smirked. “oh, absolutely.”

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny’s always thought meeting other vigilantes and heroes outside of Amity would be an event he’d gush about. He’d figured it would be more intimidating. More graceful, certainly. Less humiliating, considering he’s known Val for ages and she’d seen him choke on chili cheese fries in middle school and hack it out like a dying walrus.

Ah, well, at least this time, it wasn’t humiliating for him. Danny Fenton knew when to count his blessings, and this counted for sure.

The sight of the helmeted vigilante laying face down on the pavement for five minutes straight was getting worrying though, even if Danny sympathized with the feeling.

“…You good?”

A pause of deliberation.

“No,” came the muffled reply.

Danny finished filling his gas tank- gah, why did the GAV have to eat so much?- before walking around his car and prodding at the now dozing man. Huh. He smelled kind of liminal. The man groaned.

"Hey, is there someone coming to get you or...?" Danny trailed off. Other than inwardly laughing at watching the infamous Red Hood eat shit on the asphalt, it was probably a good idea for Danny to figure out why the guy was so far from Gotham.

"Ain't your business, kid, get lost." Red Hood made to stand up, only to groan as he stressed his very broken arm.

"Right. Do you want me to sit here with you until your trusted adult picks you up?"

"Oh, fuck off."

Danny grinned. "Here, hold on. I think I've got an arm splint in my car." Without another word, he trotted off to grab his medical supplies.

"That's a concerning amount of medical supplies," Hood's hand- the unbroken one, went to his gun.

"I get hurt a lot. Like, a lot." Danny replied candidly, forking over the medical supplies.

"Red Him! Bizarro come pick up!"

Danny looked up. "Is that... zombie Superman?"

"His name's Bizarro. And he's way better than that blue asshole."

"I'll take your word for it," Danny shrugged. Liminals tended to have better instinct about people anyways.

"Bizarro! Down here, bud!"

"Red him!" Bizarro floated back down to the ground with a thump. Danny saw the little Superman plushie sat on top of his shoulders. "Red her in little trouble!"

"Shit, get me up." Bizarro turned slightly suspicious eyes onto Danny, who just smiled at him.

"Who this?"

"This is... uh..."

"Danny. Retired vigilante." Danny rocked back onto his heels. He'd retired Phantom years ago, taking over the family business and shutting down the portal.

"Huh. That explains a lot," Red Hood considered his arm. "Red Hood. This is Bizarro."

"Skinny him help?" Bizarro asked, visibly worried.

"Sure! Whatcha need help with?" Danny paused. "Can I be something other than skinny him, though?"

"Hey- wait-"

[science-hoes]

Afterglow

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, Minors DNI, unprotected sex, angst but then smut

A/N: I had been trying so hard to finish up this one! I love writing for angsty Robby that ends up being happy in the end. I just love my tortured lil guy with brown eyes.

—

You could feel somebody’s eyes burning a hole through your head as you finished charting for your last patient of the shift. You knew it was Robby. The patient was a young woman who had come in after fainting for the first time. Robby suggested dysautonomia and wanted to discharge after observation, but you weren’t so sure. So you ordered an EKG, revealing a second degree Monitz Type 1 heart block. These were benign but important to explain her fainting. The only problem? You did it after Robby explicitly told you no.

Your relationship with Robby was perfect. Most of the time. He provided for you, cared for you, and protected you. And you were eager to reciprocate it. After a year of dating, you both kept the privacy of your relationship at work. Only Dana and Abbot knew. Robby treated you like every other resident, but sometimes, that wasn’t a good thing.

You finished typing in the chart and logged out of the computer. You stood, ready to go grab your backpack and head home. But when you turned around, Robby was towering over you with his arms crossed.

“We need to talk.” He said gruffly.

You raised an eyebrow, not able to read the emotions behind his eyes. “About…?” You asked.

“I told you not to order the EKG for Room 3. Explain to me how that got lost in translation.” His eyes were narrowed, and you grew uncomfortable under his piercing gaze.

You crossed your arms, mirroring him. “Because she’s an athlete. Second degree Type 1 is very common in young female athletes.” You stated firmly.

“Which is also benign. The dysautonomia could also account for her fainting.” He countered.

You shook your head in confusion. “I don’t understand. We helped a young woman learn about a block that could be a problem down the road. What is the problem?” You asked.

Robby chuckled, but you knew that laugh. The one before he blew up on a medical student. “The problem is that you went behind my back and ordered an EKG I explicitly told you not to.” He explained, bordering condescending.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. “Because I didn’t think your diagnosis was correct.” You responded, feeling anxiety rush through your veins as you stood up for yourself.

He shook his head “I don’t care. You are the resident, and I am the attending.”

He pulled his rank on you. He’s never done that. Even before you were dating. You huffed and clenched your jaw. “But I was right.” You said.

“You were right this time. But making a habit of defying your superiors can lead to somebody dying.”

“But-“

“I don’t want to hear excuses, I want to hear ‘yes, sir.’ Do you understand me?” Robby said, nostrils flared, face red.

You could not BELIEVE the audacity of this man. You looked around, and every single person in the Pitt had their eyes on you. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and tears stung your eyes. “Yes, sir.” You hissed.

Robby watched you storm off to the doctor’s lounge. The anger in his chest began to dissipate as he looked around the room and noticed the scene he had caused. “Get back to work.” He ordered, and everyone began to awkwardly continue about their shift.

He sat down at the desk you had been working at and rubbed his hands on his face. Regret began to sink in.

“Hey, man. What the fuck was that?” He heard Dana ask him.

Robby looked up and shook his head. “I don’t know.” Was all he managed to say.

“Well, you just humiliated a resident and your girlfriend in front of the whole Pitt. Let’s start there.” Dana said as she sat down next to him.

“She went behind my back and-“

“Yeah, yeah, I heard the story. Everyone did.” Dana deadpanned, and Robby rolled his eyes. “Why did you feel the need to berate her like that?”

Robby shrugged. “I didn’t berate her. I had to remind her that she can’t just defy orders as a resident. That could both of us in trouble if something bad happened.” He explained.

“Sure, that makes sense. But you were a dick about it.” Dana replied.

“It just happened. I was angry.”

Dana leaned in closer, keeping her voice quiet in case any nosy nurses were listening. “You are in a relationship with a power imbalance. Maybe it’s equal at home, but not here. You can’t just drill her like that.”

“I have to treat her like she is a junior resident. I can’t give her special treatment because she’s my girlfriend.”

Dana laughed, unable to handle how dense Robby was being. “Special treatment? Robby, you are way harder on her than you are on anybody else in the Pitt. Even the senior residents.”

Robby looked to Dana. “She is defying me in front of the senior residents.” He defended.

“She is standing up for herself. Just like Langdon, just like Collins, just like any resident would. Whatever pride is getting in the way of your relationship, you need to let it go.”

“It’s not pride.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know.”

Dana sighed heavily. “Robby, I have seen you in a work relationship up close. You did not act this way to Collins. But I also know you didn’t love Collins.”

Robby felt an internal sting of guilt at the mention of his past relationship. But Dana was right. “What’s your point?”

“You are about to destroy the one thing that makes you a tolerable person.” Dana said bluntly.

Robby sat there for a moment, the words echoing in his ears. He had never considered that he might be hurting your relationship. All he was worried about at work was turning you into the best physician. Even if that came with tough love. But today wasn’t tough love. It was his pride and arrogance pushing through the surface and bearing its ugly teeth.

“You had better go and get her before she’s gone.” Dana’s words snapped him out of his thoughts.

Robby nodded and stood up. He squeezed Dana’s shoulder. “Thanks.” He said.

Dana leaned back in her chair as Robby turned to leave. “First relationship counseling session is free. Next one, I’m charging 50 bucks.” She teased.

Normally, Robby would have made a sarcastic comment back, but the only thing he could think about as he walked to the doctor’s lounge was you. He opened the door to the lounge, and his heart sank when he saw that your belongings were already gone. So, he collected his backpack and hurried out the door to your apartment.

—

You managed to hold it together until you got home. You dropped your backpack on the ground and burst into tears. Robby had never yelled at you like that, and honestly, you were a little frightened by it. You knew he would never lay a (non-consensual) finger on you, but you never imagined you would be on the receiving end of his meltdowns.

You collapsed onto your bed and pulled the pillow to your chest as you cried. The image of Robby’s angry red face was terrorizing your mind. And even worse, you felt unstable in the relationship for the first time. You had never fought with Robby, not really. Tiny arguments over thermostat settings were the worst altercations, and you both laughed the whole time.

The age gap between you and Robby was not a problem. You both had an honest conversation about what it would mean to work with each other before you started officially dating. There had not been any issue. Sure, you noticed that he was more critical of your work. You figured you deserved it, but you didn’t notice any difference between that and the criticism he held for other residents.

You heard the front door lock click, and the door opened. “Hey, kid. I’m home.” A voice called out.

You suddenly felt anger bubble in your chest. Robby walked around the apartment for a moment until he saw you through the open bedroom door, curled up with the pillow. He sat down on the opposite side of the bed, looking down at you.

“I’m sorry.”

The words didn’t mean anything to you. You wanted to yell and scream and get back at him. Make him feel as bad as you did. But you didn’t. That wasn’t healthy.

Robby took your silence as the response. “I fucked up today. I belittled you in front of everyone, and I didn’t respect your education and decisions.” He continued.

You watched him through teary eyes. And it broke his heart. He wanted to hold you close and wipe them away and kiss the stains they made on your cheeks. But he knew he caused them. He rubbed the back of his neck, his anxious tic.

“I know you’re mad. And I know that you will be for a while. I let my pride and arrogance get ahead of me, and I didn’t respect you as a resident.” He said and reached a hand to stroke your hair out of your face. “But more importantly, I didn’t respect you as my girlfriend. My partner.” He added.

You felt the anger begin to dwindle but kept your guard up. “You‘ve never yelled at me like that.” You whispered and a fresh wave of tears streamed down your face.

Robby felt like a knife was twisting in his chest at the sight of you. “I know. And I’ll never do it again. That’s a promise.” He replied. “I know I’m harder on you than the other residents. I just want you to be the best physician. Better than me.”

You rolled your eyes at his answer. “Shouldn’t you want all of your residents to be the best?” You asked.

Robby bit his bottom lip in thought. “Yes. But I want you to be better than all of them.” He said.

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”

Your heart jumped to your throat. He loved you. He said he loved you. Robby had never dared utter the words prematurely. Sure, you knew you loved him months ago. But you weren’t going to risk scaring him off if he wasn’t ready for that.

“I love you, kid.” He reiterated when he saw that you were processing his words carefully. “And I have for a long time. You have shown me what it means to be happy. I used to dread waking up every morning, and now I wake up with you by my side. Every decision I make is for you. For our future. You are my anchor to reality. I was scared to say it because I didn’t want karma or fate or whatever to take you away from me.”

Your face softened, but the tears kept coming. For a different reason this time. You reached your hand out and pulled him by the strings of his hoodie to lie down next to you. Robby’s sad brown eyes began to well with tears as he stared into yours.

��Do you love me?” He asked, scared like a child.

You realized you hadn’t said anything since his initial confession. A smile graced your lips, just slightly. “Michael, I love you more than anything.” You whispered.

Relief washed over Robby’s face, and his heart skipped a beat when you said his first name, which you rarely did. Only in intimate moments like this. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, the tears starting to fall down his face, but not wanting to push boundaries if you were still upset.

You answered by leaning in and capturing his lips with yours. Robby wrapped his arms around you tightly, afraid you would disappear if he let go. The kiss was not hot or desperate like the ones you were used to after a long shift. This one was slow and soft. He pulled gently at your top lip and took advantage of your ensuing moan to slip his tongue in your mouth. You let him explore like it was your first kiss and slid your own tongue against his.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” He whispered into your mouth over and over.

You ran your fingers through his dark thinning hair and anchored them at the base of his neck, guaranteeing that his lips couldn’t leave yours. His beard began to burn against your chin, but you didn’t care.

“I love you.” You whispered in return.

Robby’s mouth finally left your lips and began kissing anything he could find. Your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your jaw. Moving down to your neck, sucking gently but not leaving a mark, as according to the rules you both set for work. The hot open-mouthed kisses on your carotid sent chills down your spine, and you squirmed in his grasp, legs weaving between his. He tugged at your scrub top, and you momentarily left his grasp to pull it off.

Once you were back in his arms, Robby’s mouth latched to your chest, pressing more kisses down the valley of your breasts. His hands expertly unlatched your bra in the back, exposing your soft nipples to the cold air of the room. His beard tickled your skin as he moved to your right breast. Your head dropped back on the pillow when his tongue glided across your nipple, making circles to excite it. Once it hardened, he took the bud in between his teeth and sucked gently.

A shaky breath left your lungs, the polarity of sensations driving you crazy. One of your hands remained in his hair as he nursed on you, the other digging into the skin of his back. After what he deemed enough time for your right breast, he moved to the left one, giving in the same treatment.

It wasn’t like Robby to move slowly like this. Usually, he had you on your stomach, ass in the air, and pounding away within five minutes of getting home. But he didn’t want to fuck you tonight. He wanted to show you his love.

You finally pulled at his hoodie, wanting to feel more of his skin on yours. He sat up, a small smile on his face, and shed both his scrub top and hoodie, exposing his broad but toned upper body. He fell back down to you, but moved lower this time. His mouth left kisses down from your breasts to your navel, fingers pulling at the waistband of your scrub pants and underwear. As you lifted your hips to help remove them, he left love bites along your waist, which was fair game.

When he tossed your scrubs and panties aside, Robby lifted your thighs, placing them on his shoulders. This position you were very familiar with. He planted kisses on the inside of your thighs, met with slick wetness as he got closer to your weeping pussy. You could feel him smile from the way his beard moved against your skin. It didn’t matter if he was fucking you after work or eating you out while on break in the call room, it boosted his confidence tenfold to know how wet you got for him.

“All this for me?” He asked, looking up to you those boyish brown eyes glistening in the dark light of the room.

You breathed a laugh, squeezing your thighs a bit around his shoulders. “Only for you.” You confirmed.

“That’s right.” He breathed.

His tongue gently teased your slick folds. His mouth began to water once he could taste you, and he needed more. He tightened his grip on your hips and buried his face in between your legs, ungodly sounds coming from his throat as he devoured you.

You screamed and twisted the bedsheets in your fists. Your thighs squeezed around his neck involuntarily, and it drove him crazy. He reached a hand down to your mound and rubbed strong circles with his thumb as he ate away at your pussy. You didn’t have to tell him that you were close. He knew by the way your hips bucked into his mouth that you were losing control.

“Come for me, baby girl.” He mumbled against you.

The white hot sensation exploded from your core across your body after another few expert maneuvers with his tongue. He lapped up all of the juices that spilled onto his tongue, swallowing them like a starving man. His free hand rubbed soothing circles on your abdomen as your body finally went limp.

Robby kissed your inner thighs when he finished his meal and moved back up the bed, hovering over you. His beard glistened with your juices, and you pulled him down to kiss them off.

“You got one more in you?” He asked, gently pressing his clothed hips against yours.

You smiled and reached for the drawstring of his scrub pants. “Always.” You whispered.

Robby kicked off his scrub pants and boxer briefs, unleashing his painfully hard cock, already leaking with precum. You instinctively started to roll onto your stomach, but he grabbed your hips, planting them firmly against the bed.

“No. I want to look at you while I fuck you tonight.” He said.

Even after a year, Robby could still make you blush. You nodded, spreading your thighs as he centered himself at your pussy. He pushed in slowly, his cock filling you out completely. You unconsciously moaned the entire time until he bottomed out. He pressed a kiss against your neck as he pulled out again.

“That’s a good girl.” He breathed.

His hips began to thrust, making a slow but intentional pace. He indulged in every pitiful sound that fell from your lips as he gently fucked you.

“You feel so good.” You managed to mumble into his ear.

He grinned and pressed a kiss to your cheek, then resting his forehead against yours. The thin gold chain that hung around his neck slapped your chin with every thrust, the cool metal providing an extra sensation to your already overstimulated body. Your fingers dug into his back, scratching and slipping on his sweaty skin.

“I’ll make you feel better.” Robby said, and he pushed your knees to your chest, ankles around his shoulders, compressing his cock even more within your walls.

You let out a string of explicatives as the new position enhanced your pleasure. Robby chuckled as he continued to thrust, slowly picking up more speed. Tears squeezed through your eyes as your second orgasm began to rise. And like always, he knew you were getting close.

“That’s it, baby girl.” He praised, his pace unfaltering.

Your second orgasm hit stronger than the first, rendering you numb and weak. Robby kept pounding against you, struggling to maintain a consistent pace as his own orgasm was nearing. But just like he could sense yours, you knew when he was about to come.

“Come inside me.” You begged, the first time you had ever requested it.

Robby’s eyes widened, and he grunted as he tried to hold off his orgasm. “Are you-are you sure?” He asked, squeezing your waist tightly.

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, please. Please come in me. I want to feel you.” You pleaded again.

A small grin made its way to Robby’s face. But the thought was too exciting for him, and his orgasm hit him harder and faster than he was used to. You could feel each hot spurt of cum coat your walls, each pulse of his veined cock twitch inside you. His arms trembled, and he collapsed on top of you, the weight of his body rather comforting.

You rubbed soothing circles on his back and kissed his sweat-covered forehead. “I love you, Michael Robinavitch.” You whispered.

Robby smiled as his head rested on your bare chest, listening to your heartbeat. “I love you, kid.” He responded, feeling happiest he had ever been.

[melminli]

BANG BANG BANG

summery - thanos was always just such an easy person to argue with. you really hated the guy and that was something that was never going to change, even if your life was on the line and it fucking was.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 1.8k

contains: violence, death, dark content - just usual squid game stuff really

prev. l next.

"I ask for your attention. The first game will begin shortly. Each player will have their picture taken, then they will follow the staff onto the pitch."

You eyed the confusing and pastel-colored building you were standing in as you listened to the instructions. It wasn't too loud although, there was a bit of whispering from the crowd, the line to the photo booths was pretty organized as well. That was until you suddenly noticed a commotion from a corner, and look who was at the center of it. You just rolled your eyes when you saw the purple-headed guy standing casually between his fans and looked away annoyed after he winked at you charmingly.

Thanos didn't let your subtle rejection bother him. He called out your name and gestured with his fingers to indicate that there was an empty spot next to him - you know, for the group photo. "Hey, you can join the photo, too. Come on."

You continued to ignore his voice and moved forward as the gap between you and the others in front of you widened. Eventually, the loud voices faded into the background, and it was your turn to take the photo. However, while you stood in front of the camera and looked at the smiley face before you, all sense of happiness vanished. If only you weren't so desperate for money, you wouldn't feel compelled to remain in this strange place surrounded by these people.

The flash went off without you even realizing it and caught the absent look on your face. You continued to follow the moving queue like a grazing animal following its herd, lost somewhere in your thoughts until suddenly a person grabbed you by the shoulder.

You instinctively started to defend yourself with widened eyes. "What the hell dude?!" you screamed silently in a panic until you saw the grinning perpetrator in front of you. "Su-bong? What's your problem, I told you to stay away from me asshole, are you stupid?" you grunted angrily and tried again to catch up with the person in front of you so as not to block the way any further.

Thanos just shrugged his shoulders disinterestedly while he casually climbed the stairs behind you. "You really talk a lot, so don't hold it against me when I tune most of it out," he replied, which made you walk a little faster and made him pick up a little more speed to keep up with you.

"Hey, wait a second, woman!" he called out and followed you. "Besides, you know what? You should just call me Thanos, everyone does - it's the name I go by, you know? Not that I expect someone like you to understand the creative thought behind it, but come on. At least try."

You raised your palm to stop his flow of words and perhaps also to put up an imaginary wall between the two of you. "You can explain it however you want, but that's not your name, it's stupid, and I'm definitely not going to call you that." you laughed at him. "Only someone like you could watch every single Marvel movie there is and then identify with the ugly mega villain, really."

That's why I'm not listening, he thought to himself, running his tongue through his teeth in annoyance. "Can you like not be a bitch for a second? You're killing the mood," he spoke out before leaning over the railing and shouting. "The mood is dying!"

"Shut up!" you whispered aggressively as you dragged him away by the arm and rubbed your face in frustration. "What did I do wrong in life besides being born to deserve this..."

Su-bong shook his sleeve from your grip as he sighed himself. "Don't be so dramatic. Are you really still angry about that thing with -"

"Yes," you answer without hesitation, not needing to know how he finished his sentence. Why? Because ever since you knew him, this guy had only made decisions that made you angry. When you thought of the reason that finally broke the camel's back, you had to stop yourself and take a deep breath. "Whatever, someone like you isn't worth it," you declared and then walked with several others through some gate, into the open. No, you were still surrounded by walls, even if they disguised themselves as the sky and clouds.

"Welcome to the first game. All players, please wait a moment on the field. I repeat -"

You continued to look around and noticed people entering from two more entrances. Thanos stood in front of you to block your view. "Are you seriously ignoring me right now? You women are all the same."

You only confirmed his statement with your silence and by averting your gaze from him. Before he could object any further, the gates suddenly closed behind you and the voice from the loudspeakers started talking again. "The first game is called: Green Light, red Light."

A game for children? You repeated perplex in your head and tuned out the voice explaining the rules of the game. You often played this game as a child anyway, you knew how to play it. Do we really earn money by playing this?

"Listen to me! Listen carefully, everyone!" A man suddenly shouted out, attracting the attention of the crowd by trying to explain that losing in this innocent game would mean death.

Unconsciously, your heart began to beat faster as various thoughts raced through your mind. What is this crazy guy talking about? You get killed if you lose? What nonsense. But on the other hand, there must be a catch, who else would give out money for something like this? Maybe -

"Don't worry, that guy just has a few screws loose." Su-bong's voice suddenly spoke out next to you as he turned his index finger next to his head to visualize it. "I can see that there are a million completely unnecessary thoughts running through your little head right now because you always have this funny look on your face when you do," he explained and you just tried really hard not to pay attention to him. He just had to make life difficult for you.

Your eyes wandered again and you looked at the disbelieving faces of the others, who were also just looking at the front man strangely. I'll just be careful and see what happens. Someone will probably lose and then we'll see if it's true or not, simple as that.

There was an announcement that the game was about to start and you saw the stopwatch at the front set to five minutes. You took a deep breath and finally, the robot girl moved to look away. "Red light, green light."

Your concentration was fixed on watching her movements so that you could stop at the right moment. You didn't want to rush, but the time pressure was real. You found yourself glancing at the time too often and subconsciously started to count the seconds you had left. You usually weren't a person who could work under such circumstances, but you had to manage the whole thing somehow. You really didn't want to lose, especially not be the first to do it.

"Freeze! Don't move!"

Shut the fuck up. This guy was seriously getting on your nerves. Your eyes were looking forward while you just stood still and then, a bee flew in front of you. Stay away you stupid thing, you thought as the distance between the insect and your face grew smaller and smaller.

A female voice next to you finally spoke out. "Is this guy on drugs?" She asked when the strange man started to scream again, you didn't know if it was that which caught the bee's attention or her sweet perfume that was suddenly being carried through the wind in your direction, but it didn't matter. You were just glad that it wasn't your problem anymore. Though, you couldn't breathe a sigh of relief since you didn't dare breathe at all when that creepy doll was turned in your direction. The thing looked like it could shoot lasers out of its eyes at any second or something.

"Nope, that's not how you act when you're high." Thanos replied from beside you, and even if you could hold your breath for as long as you needed to, things looked a lot different when it came to a petty comment. 

Your mouth didn't move when you spoke, like that of a ventriloquist's. "Of course, you would know best, you fucking drug addict." was all that came out of you while you looked at his back. 

Thanos grunted as several ideas popped into his head about how he could twist your words, but he tried really hard not to say any of them. I could really take some pills right now. "I'm about to really hurt your feelings, sweetie."

"No! Really?" you let out as you pretended to be really scared of what was about to happen before your tone changed back to being monotone. "I'm pissing in my pants, please don't."

Ignoring your argument, the little innocent bee finally landed on the neck of number 196. "Hey, what's that?" she uttered as she felt a slight tingling sensation on her neck.

Thano's eyes turned to her figure beside him as he answered her. "Don't freak out, it's just a bee."

"A bee?!" She exclaimed in a panic and started waving her arms around wildly to scare the insect away as quickly as possible. You watched her, as many others probably did right now, but the girl herself realized her own mistake far too late when she finally stopped moving and looked up at Thanos. "Shit." she laughed out. "I just moved."

As soon as she finished her sentence, a bullet flew straight through her skull and dropped her body motionless to the floor. You felt a cold shiver run through your whole body and your heart suddenly stopped before it started beating like crazy in your chest. That didn't just happen. Your head automatically tried to calm you down with some kind of slander, but your eyes couldn't help but move to the dead body on the floor, which was now smeared with fresh blood. No, it really did.

next.

[meganegatari]

Okay.. but like, loser ellie but she’s also a stoner and explains the entire lore of spider man to you while you’re trying to have seggs and she’s like stoned out of her mind and yapping about literally spider man 😭

before you read!!

☆: THIS IS SO FUCKING FUNNY IM CRYING LMFAO had me dying for like 10 mins straight. this is longer than intended bc im a yapper as we know, and i kinda don't know much of the spiderman lore (and you can def tell oops)…BUT I LOVE THE WAY YOUR MIND WORKS NONNIE.

◇: sfw but suggestive themes. warning: FAR from my best work, just wanted to keep momentum going ig. basically just fluff, lots of buildup as usual SORRY i have to establish a plot before we get to the good stuff…they're of age obviously, their relationship is left vague/up for interpretation so fill in the blanks w/ your own thoughts! “babe” pet name usage, consumption of weed, duh. ok i suppose that's all. OH AND SBWM REFERENCE HAHAHA (shameless self plug :3) + 1.0k wc.

One nice, regular night, chilling at Ellie’s humble abode, getting high, the usual Friday evening activities. You both were laying down in her bed, wrapped up in her dinosaur bedsheets of course, you were resting your head on her chest, occasionally coughing and swatting away the residual smoke that lingered in the air.

The weed had made your head fuzzy and your mouth drier than the Sahara desert, but despite all the not-so-great things, you loved to get high with Ellie.

Sometimes you'd fuck, sometimes you'd talk about life and reminisce about the good, the bad, and the ugly, and sometimes you'd just lay there to enjoy each other's company.

She was so warm and comfortable, you simply wished to merge bodies and become one with her, to make a home inside her ribcage even. You'd be perfectly fine just napping there on her cushiony chest, listening to her steady heartbeat and slow intakes of breath, if it wasn't for the familiar ache of need between your legs.

Shifting to look up at her, she was so incredibly zooted out of her mind, you found it hilarious. Chunky glasses covered in fingerprint smudges and sitting crooked atop her nose, eyes blood-red and so heavy lidded, you'd have thought she was asleep had you not taken a closer look.

You lifted yourself up and pressed your lips to the side of her pink cheek, repeatedly kissing her soft, smooth skin. She let out a husky giggle, her voice all hoarse and crackly from the substance. “Hiiii.”

She dragged out the vowel, grinning widely at you. Her smile was infectious, and you laughed at her state. Burying your face again in the crook of her neck, you mumbled, “Hi Ellie…you're so cute.”

Tangled up together, you kissed her some more on her neck, wanting to be as close as possible to her. She sighed, and angled her head to give you better access to more surface area. “That feels nice.” She'd slur, and you were pretty turned on at this point, to say the least.

It was worth asking. “Ellie…do you wanna fuckkk?” You whisper against her ear, and watch in delight as the bright-red blush spreads across her entire face like a wildfire, even reaching her collar, and spreading underneathyour shirt. “Um, yeah, duh. C’mere.”

You pressed a sloppy kiss to her lips, tangling your hands in her auburn locks and parting your puffy lips to invite her tongue in, not noticing the spit dribble down your chin where your faces met. Her breathing quickened immediately, and she whined into your mouth, the kisses getting even messier to the point where your teeth were clinking together, so you backed away for a breather.

The two of you shifted positions so she was now on top of you, resting her hand on your hip, thumb rubbing small circles. She moved in to initiate more lip-locking, but pulled away abruptly.

“Babe I forgot to tell you, so y’know Peter Parker, right?” And there she goes.

“Yeah, yeah I know him, can you just-” You try to rush past the beginnings of her rambling, because you knew once she got started, there was no end in sight. At least for a while.

You tried pulling her in to meet your lips again by the back of her head, but were met with lots of resistance. She seemed to look more alert now, a miracle. The power of superheroes!

She shuffled off of you and sat upright, assuming a cross-legged position, clearly not noticing your exasperated huffs and purposely obnoxious eye rolling, and the fact that there was a whole-ass human, half undressed, horny girl on her bed right there in front of her, who was slowly losing patience.

Ellie just went to her own world. Her eyes sparkled with passionate wonder as she thought about the series so dear to her heart. “Okay I rewatched all the movies a few days ago and I noticed something new…”

You were ready to give up what you originally had in mind, she was too far gone. She talked and talked endlessly, and you had to feign interest, nodding along and murmuring, “Mhm, yeah Els. Wow that's cool. Huh, never knew.” As enthusiastically as you could, so she didn't feel like she wasn't being listened to.

It was worth noting too though, when she started info-dumping about her interests she really was adorable, an excitement in her grassy eyes you never see otherwise, gesturing wildly with her hands and mapping out ideas to make it easy for someone who's never seen any of it to digest all this new information.

“...And then, in the movies Into the Spiderverse and Across the Spiderverse, there's this character called Gwen Stacy.”

She stops to cough and clear her throat, now seemingly appearing to completely forget that you were even there.

“And- oh yeah! She's also in the comics and ugh she's awesome, I really love her suit. It's got a hood on it…if I were to have a spider suit, it would be her style. Hm, it would also be mostly like, green…with red accents, ah I'm gonna show you all the sketches I made of it. But anyway…”

To be completely honest, you've been out of the mood for enough time now, and you've come to the realization that it actually didn't bother you.

This was Ellie, and you loved her for her! There was always next time you two met for a smoke session, you just loved spending time with someone so treasured such as her, and you'd be lying to say the Spiderman world wasn't a little interesting.

"That's so cool, wait. Okay can you explain the timeline of it all, oh and also how do all these different movies interact, is it the same universe, or something like the multiverse I think you mentioned?”

[aurorawritestoescape]

HEATWAVE || Joel Miller x f!reader || 2,5k

Summary: Joel helps you to cool down on a hot summer day. In his own way.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, pwp, horny!Joel, sweaty filthy sex, m!masturbation, unprotected piv, creampie, cum eating, fingering, praise kink, swearing, pet names (baby, sweetheart). Pics are for the mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions.

A/n: I’ve been dying of heat all week but imagining Joel railing me slightly alleviated my hardship. Hot Joel kiss to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕Hope you will enjoy this story. Love ya!❤️

same couple - HEATWAVE collection || MASTERLIST

“Don’t, Joel.”

“What?”

“Don’t touch me, please. It’s too fucking hot.”

Joel sighs and falls back on the couch as you shift away from his feet, getting comfortable as far as possible from his heat radiating body.

“Fine. Jus’ wanted to make you feel good. You’ve been snappy all day.”

“Sorry. It’s all this damn heat! I’m dying without the AC!” You groan and shake the hem of your crop top, trying to cool off just a little. You’re wearing the tiniest shorts you could find but nothing really helps when you’re dealing with a Texas summer without any conditioning.

“It’ll be fixed tomorrow, baby, don’t worry.”

“I know but… ugh!”

You throw a glance at Joel who has the most sympathetic expression on his handsome face. You also can’t deny that he looks hot like this, completely naked except for his home shorts. His broad chest, rising and falling in steady rhythm, is glistening with sweat, his thick thighs are spread and his cock is slightly tenting his only garment. You’d eat him whole if not for the fucking heat!

Torturing you even more he gives you his bedroom eyes and you bite your lip, thinking how to fuck him without touching him. Suddenly your gaze lights up.

“Oh! I know what we need!”

He raises one brow in a silent question and you start hastily explaining, at the same time grabbing your phone off the coffee table and opening a browser,

“I’m gonna look for hot weather sex positions.”

Joel chuckles and you furrow your brows at the man.

“No, don’t laugh. They minimize skin contact and should be easy on the movements. I saw an article once.”

Your pussy aches more and more the longer you watch Joel splay on the couch and you need him to be on board with your idea but he doesn’t seem very enthusiastic.

“Not sure it’ll help much but…let’s try it,” he shrugs and you beam at him before typing away.

As always when you need it the most, the internet is slow and you shake your leg, already losing patience.

In your peripheral vision you notice Joel move and your eyes shift from your phone screen to him for just a second. You do a double take when you see him pull the waistband of his shorts down, freeing his semi hard cock, as his mischievous gaze is set on you.

"What are you doing?" you groan at the sight of his big hand, wrapping around his long juicy member.

"Jus' a lil' pre-game, baby. Go on with your research."

You watch him give his manhood a few languid pumps and your mouth waters when some wetness beads on the tip. A new surge of desire burns your core and your breathing fastens. A few seconds later you remember what you were doing and turn away from the hot sight so you could return to the task at hand.

You try to open the first link but it’s loading for eternity so you close it with a curse and press the second one.

Then soft grunts reach your ear and you see Joel pleasure himself in earnest, as his cock is drooling on his veiny hand.

“Hey, wait for me, would you?” You grumble, tapping the same link three times, as if it can make it open faster.

“I’m imagining your hand doing it, sweetheart,” Joel smirks with his eyes already hazy as his palm is sliding up and down his length, thumb brushing over the tip from time to time, “or your pretty mouth, licking my cock. Oh, I bet your pussy wants some of this. She doesn’t care about the heat.”

You know he’s teasing you so you’d hurry up but the solution of your problem is so close that you can’t just stop now. So you fix your shorts that are sticking to your already wet folds and avert your eyes from your tormentor.

“Fucking cookies,” you curse, getting hotter because of the sweltering weather and also after noticing Joel buck his hips to fuck his fist better.

Finally you find an illustration of an almost contactless sex position and tilt your head, trying to understand it.

“Where’s his..? Oh! But… Nah. I’d break your dick like that.”

“We don’t want that,” Joel chuckles, his voice strained with pleasure he’s giving himself.

You’ve never seen him jerk his cock for such a long time so your gaze involuntarily shifts away from your phone again and you shamelessly stare at his hand gliding up and down his stiffness.

“We miss you,” Joel taunts you, seeing desire paint your face, and shakes his cock from side to side, spilling precum everywhere.

“Joel..” You whine and using every ounce of your will you tear your eyes away from his body and return them to the screen.

“Ok, this one is more doable. But it’ll take me forever to come like that… Oh and this… this just defies gravity.”

Giggling at the picture, you show Joel the screen and he gives you a polite smile but his half-lidded eyes tell you that he’s already deep in the ocean of lust, close to reaching his high.

Your gaze slides down to his throbbing cock, his big hand jerking it and you give up. You throw your phone back on the table and with a quiet “Fuck it,” you decide to literally fuck it. Fuck Joel.

Your man’s eyes light up as he coos at you,

“Yeah, c’mere, baby. Come sit on your popsicle.”

You laugh, climbing up the couch over his huge body and straddling his thighs. His skin is unbearably hot but your need overshadows everything.

You take his cock in your sweaty hands and purr, wetting your lips, “popsicle? shall I lick it first then?”

“Usually I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to that, but…,” he says, taking in your body, wrapped in a tight crop top and little shorts. You hear him groan as you lean down to his leaking cock but then his hand on your cheek stops you, “but! I’ve been playing without you and … My cock’s ready for your sweet pussy, baby. Gimme.”

With that he shifts to the side and pulls you to lie down next to him on the couch. The warmed up surface and Joel’s huge body pressed close to you make you whine as another wave of heat hits you.

“Shh,” Joel shushes you and clumsily sits up, almost making you fall off the narrow seat.

He takes his shorts off and helps you discard your clothes as well.

“Fuck, look at you,” he mumbles, his hungry eyes travelling over your exposed body, “wanna lick you all over.”

You take a sharp breath, suffocating with lust, but then Joel does the unforgivable. He lays down on top of you, pushing your legs apart with his knee, and you’re about to cry at how hot the vast expanse of his sweaty skin makes you.

“Joel!” You cry out, trying to push him off, palms braced on his chest, but the next second his lips crash against yours and he’s giving you a heady kiss which quickly makes you forget all about the heat. You’re immediately enchanted by him, his taste, his desire for you. The kiss is sloppy and messy and you cool off a little whenever your wet lips part from each other, even only for a second.

Soon sweat coats your body and Joel’s cock pulsating against your belly turns you into a desperate puddle. To get some respite from the heat, you tilt your head down and blow on your chest.

“It won’t help,” Joel murmurs, “Maybe this will.”

He hunches over you, leans down and licks a long stripe from your breast over your neck and jaw and reaches your lips and kisses you again. You hum with pleasure, noting your salty taste on his tongue and enjoying the sensation of the cooling wet path on your skin.

You’re making out for a few more seconds but the ache between your thighs makes your wriggle under him and Joel hastily lifts his torso and hovers over you, his chest inches from yours as you breathe out after this tiny relief. You glance down and see his heavy cock rest on your mound, his balls pressed to your folds, some wetness smeared on your belly where he is leaking on you. The sight makes you whine his name and reach for his big member.

It’s hot, stiff and damp when you caress it gently with your fingers and Joel’s dark eyes lower to the place where you’re making him even harder if it’s even possible.

“Put it in, sweetheart. Want you on my cock already. You’re drippin’ all over me. My balls are fuckin’ drenched.”

His Texan drawl is even more apparent when he’s so turned on and you know it’s time for him to fuck you. But he teased you so much. Why can’t you?

You throw your legs apart wider, but pressing your hips deeper into the couch, pull away from Joel’s hot crotch. You feel the air slightly cooling your sopping pussy and it feels so amazingly good, that a gasp climbs up your throat.

“Where’re you goin’, naughty girl?” Joel groans and rolls his hips against your pussy, scorching you with his heated thighs, balls and cock, making you mewl. He overplays you, making your hungry hole clench around nothing, clit twitch and you immediately bring your hand down and push his pulsating hot length into your soaked entrance. Both of you moan loudly at the anticipated sensation.

Joel drops his body on you again, holding some of his weight as he braces his forearm on the couch.

You should be uncomfortable, annoyed, hot and miserable but all you feel is his cock spreading your insides, his balls rubbing against your ass. His scent, a mixture of sweat and musk with a slight trace of his favorite piney deodorant, envelops you completely. He invades all your senses at once and you let him, welcome it with your body and soul.

“Joel,” you whisper, choking on your feelings and hugging him even closer.

“I know, baby, I love you too,” he replies, covering your whimpering mouth with his and drinking your oh’s and ah’s.

Soon he’s rolling his hips, his thrusts languid and gentle, as you’re making out, glued together by desire and love. You become one as the heat, radiating from the two of you and the sweat on your skin are mixing together and your bodies slide against each other in this lustful dance.

His cock is massaging your walls, kissing your cervix with its fat head and you glide your hands over the expense of Joel’s dewy back, shoulders and arms before they sneak down and you grab handfuls of his ass. You start grinding your pussy against his pelvic bone and coarse hair.

Suddenly Joel lifts his torso and looks at you, blown out eyes darting between yours, his hips still moving.

“You’re drownin’ my cock, sweetheart. So fuckin’ wet. My perfect pussy. Wanna see?”

After hearing your sultry ‘yeah’, Joel brings his hand to your face, brushes your lower lip with his thumb and then his palm glides down your heated body. Your skin erupts in goosebumps from the gentle contact and you whimper when he runs his fingers over your slicked up folds, spread around his fat cock.

You lift your hips chasing his touch on your clit, and he grants your wish. His index and middle finger find your hardening bud and he swirls it for a few seconds, closely watching your reaction. Your lips part and eyes flutter shut, as his cock and fingers make your pussy purr. Joel’s manhood twitches deep inside you before he pauses his thrusts into your wet heat.

Suddenly he pulls his cock out entirely.

“Joel! No!”

He tsks at you for the impatience but then his girthy length gets replaced by three of his fingers and you gasp and then moan when he begins pushing them in and out of your messy cunt, curling them to press the pleasure spot inside your core.

Joel sees how close you’re by the way your eyes roll to the back of your head and your walls start squeezing his digits harder and harder. He places his thumb on your clit and pushes, sending a new wave of ecstasy to your brain and you cry out as your climax hits your sweaty body. The drops of your sweat slide down on the couch because of how hard you tremble under him and Joel watches the euphoria course through you with an adoring gaze.

“Yeah, jus’ like that. Good girl.”

When you still and open your spent eyes at him, his fingers curve inside you as he scoops your slick and cum and then pulls them out. He raises his hand and watches your creamy juices slide down his hand.

“Joel,” is all you manage to mewl, witnessing your liquid euphoria.

With his tongue peeking out, he brings his hand to your chest and paints your pebbled nipple with your wetness. Then he leans closer and blows on it and you moan at the temperature change.

“Yeah, you like it, huh? Dirty girl.”

As if confirming his words, your nipple hardens more and with a grunt Joel latches onto your breast and licks off the taste of your pussy. You whimper as another course of pleasure reignites your core.

Joel hums, enjoying the flavor of your skin, and the next moment his cock spears you in one go and he begins pounding into you, pulling his hips back fast and thrusting his throbbing manhood into your sopping pussy with hard and sharp strokes. His tongue continues dancing over your tits and you clench his curls with the last drops of strength you have in your spent body. After a few more thrusts, Joel parts from your puffy nipple and growls, still railing you.

“Fuck, baby— choke my cock again— C’mon, be a good girl—come again.”

He kisses you passionately while his hand slithers down between your bodies and he starts rubbing your clit, chanting, “One more, one more.”

In no time you’re squealing as your pussy is clamping around his cock and it sends him over the precipice. Joel breathes out a moan and his hips jerk again and again, sending rope after rope of his hot cum inside you. Your cunt keeps milking him of the last drop as he presses his sweaty forehead to yours, your eyes locked with his and full of gratitude, love and euphoria.

You’re descending from your highs together, limbs tangled and bodies flush against each other. To your surprise the sweat cooling your skin and his cum seeping out of your pussy send a shiver down your spine.

“I’m cold,” you mumble into the crook of his neck.

“Really? Maybe we don’t need AC at all? I can just fuck the heat out of you?”

“Yes, we do,” you disagree, giggling.

“But I loved helping you, baby. We should reschedule the repair for next week.”

You push him off you, burning the man with a fiery gaze, “Don’t you dare, Joel Miller.”

“I’m kiddin’, sweetheart,” Joel chuckles, hugging you tight and shutting your grunts up with a kiss. A second later you feel hot all over again.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!💖

Same couple - HEATWAVE collection || Masterlist

General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk

If you'd like to be tagged in my future fics, let me know!💕

[zuzu-tries-to-write]

Title: Can’t Stand It

Summary: Bakugo keeps seeing you with Todoroki, and it pisses him off more than it should. At first, he doesn’t understand why—until he sees you two getting too close, and the jealousy finally hits him. Unable to hold back, he confronts you, and one heated moment later, he’s got you pinned against the wall, kissing you like he’s been dying to do it all along.

____________________________________________

Katsuki Bakugo wasn’t the type to dwell on things. If something pissed him off, he dealt with it—fast.

But this?

This was different.

It started small. Just a casual glance across the training grounds when he saw you standing next to Todoroki, the two of you talking between drills. Nothing serious. He wasn’t paying attention.

Until it happened again.

And again.

And again.

Every damn time he turned around, you were with that icy bastard, talking, laughing, looking way too damn comfortable. It wasn’t even like he was looking for you—his eyes just found you on their own, like his brain was wired to notice.

At first, he brushed it off. Who cared who you hung out with? It wasn’t his business.

Then he saw Todoroki hand you a bottle of water after training, and something in his chest tightened.

Then he caught you sparring together, Todoroki’s hand on your waist as he corrected your stance, and his jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

Then, worst of all, he saw you sitting next to him during lunch, leaning in close to whisper something, your shoulder pressed against his like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That was it.

That was the moment everything clicked—the moment something inside him snapped.

He was jealous.

Not just annoyed, not just irritated—jealous as hell.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, and for the first time in his life, Bakugo didn’t know what to do with himself.

So he did what he always did when his emotions got too loud. He acted.

You barely had time to react before he was storming across the cafeteria, his whole body tense, his expression thunderous. He didn’t stop walking until he was right in front of you and Todoroki, casting a shadow over your little moment.

You blinked up at him, confused. “Bakugo?”

His hands curled into fists. He didn’t trust himself to speak—not yet.

Todoroki glanced at him, unfazed as usual. “Something wrong?”

Bakugo ignored him completely, his gaze locked onto you. “Come with me.”

You raised a brow. “Uh, why?”

“Because I fucking said so.”

He saw the flicker of irritation cross your face, but before you could argue, he grabbed your wrist—not rough, but firm—and pulled you to your feet.

“Bakugo, seriously, what the hell?” you protested, but he wasn’t listening.

He was already dragging you out of the cafeteria, through the empty hallway, until he found a quiet corner, away from everyone else. Only then did he finally stop, releasing your wrist and turning to face you, his expression unreadable.

You huffed, rubbing your wrist. “Okay, are you gonna explain why you just kidnapped me from my lunch, or—”

“Why the hell are you always with Todoroki?” he cut in, voice low and sharp.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

His jaw tightened. “You’re always with him. Talking to him. Laughing with him. Sitting with him.” He exhaled sharply, fists still clenched. “Why?”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “Because we’re friends? And he’s nice? What’s it to you?”

Bakugo grit his teeth. He didn’t have an answer. Or rather, he had one, but he sure as hell didn’t want to say it out loud.

But his silence must have said enough, because your expression shifted, something clicking in your eyes.

“…Wait.” You took a small step closer, your voice slower, more careful. “Are you… jealous?”

His whole body tensed.

Shit.

You stared at him, watching the way his jaw locked, his hands trembled, his entire body practically vibrating with barely restrained emotion. And suddenly, you saw it—really saw it.

The way his eyes had been following you. The way his irritation had been growing. The way he was standing so damn close right now, his breath uneven, his shoulders tense.

He was jealous.

The realization made something flutter in your chest.

A slow smile curled at your lips. “You are.”

Bakugo scowled. “Shut up.”

You stepped even closer, tilting your head up to look at him. “I didn’t know you cared so much.”

“I don’t.” It was a lie, and you both knew it.

You grinned, reaching up to tug lightly at the collar of his uniform. “Then why are you so mad?”

His breath hitched.

And then he snapped.

His hands grabbed your waist, yanking you forward, and before you could react, his lips crashed against yours.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was desperate, heated, filled with all the frustration and want he had been bottling up for god knows how long.

You gasped against his mouth, but he didn’t let you pull away. His grip was firm, his fingers digging into your waist as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing flush against yours.

You melted into him, your hands sliding up to fist into his shirt, pulling him closer. His lips were rough and hot against yours, moving with a fierce intensity, like he was making up for lost time.

He nipped at your bottom lip, making you let out a soft noise, and that was all it took for him to lose control. His hands slid up your back, holding you like he was afraid you’d slip away, his body pressing you against the wall, completely caging you in.

It was overwhelming, intoxicating, everything you didn’t realize you had been waiting for.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath heavy, his grip still firm on your waist.

Your heart was racing, your mind spinning, but you still managed to smirk. “Well. That was unexpected.”

He let out a breathless, irritated laugh. “Shut up.”

You grinned, reaching up to brush your fingers over his jaw. “Make me.”

His eyes darkened, and before you could even blink, he was kissing you again.

[gravedwe11er]

Mecha AU Deadlock angst? Mecha AU Deadlock angst!

Or, I saw a post mentioning that someone is gonna have to explain human lifespans to the bots, and my brain ran with it. Based on the @keferon mecha AU.

CW: Discussions of death and mortality

Human and cybertronian lifespans are such wildly disparate things. Deadlock struggles with this newfound knowledge.

Forty local stellar cycles. Maybe fifty, if he’s one of the lucky ones.

Now, even before his crash-landing on this planet, Deadlock knew enough about organics to be aware they’re generally not as long-lived as mechanical species. Comes with being so breakable all over, if he had to guess, but-

That’s barely half a fragging vorn.

Even if he gets lucky, even if, for once, Deadlock doesn’t fail at keeping the people he cares about safe, the little organic medic is going to be dead in half a vorn. ‘That’s just how things are, for humans,’ Swerve said. ‘I’m sorry,’ Swerve said.

Slag, and what about Roddy? Deadlock’s pretty sure the pilot is younger than Ratchet, but still- that gives him, how long, a vorn? Less? Even the very thought of it just feels so damn wrong. The little guy’s so bright, how could anyone with an EM field like a fucking Prime have the lifespan of--

Deadlock desperately wants to shoot something.

Instead, he drives towards Ratchet’s workshop, transforming the moment he’s out of sight and heading straight for the doc once he finds him in the garage. It’s yet another testament to the man’s caring nature that he lets himself get picked up with only token grumbling, throwing a concerned look Deadlock’s way but not pushing the matter.

The human medic has always been scarily good at reading him. In moments like these, Deadlock can’t help but be overwhelmingly grateful for it.

Hugging the man to the side of his helm, he soon feels a small, calloused hand running gently down one finial. Deadlock wants to scream. The injustice of it all making his processor spin, his spark thrumming with pain and fear and overwhelming grief. How can he bear to lose all this so soon? He’s only just found him, the first glimpse of something like peace in eons, and he can’t deal with the thought of him gone, he can’t-

Ratchet grunts in his servos, knocking loudly on one of Deadlock’s fingers, and with a jolt he realizes just how tight he’s been holding the man. Immediately, he loosens his grip, gently petting down the doc’s back in silent apology. After a moment, a warm ser- hand pats his cheek.

“Feel like telling me what’s eating you, kid?” Ratchet asks, before lightly pushing against Deadlock’s face.

Responding to the wordless request, Deadlock pulls his cupped hands away from his helm, just enough so he can look into the human medic’s opti- eyes. He scrambles for a way to express his racing thoughts, vocalizer hissing with static, before abruptly spitting out, “Are you dying?”

To his surprise, the man bursts out laughing. “Shit, where’d you get that idea?” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Now, as much as I’m sure a bunch of my previous employers would love to dance on my grave, let me assure you that I’m perfectly fi-“

“But you’re not!” Deadlock almost shouts, engine growling. “He said- decay of organic components, and human lifespans are-“ his voice gets stuck in his throat, vocalizer jamming, and he offlines his optics for a moment. Tries to get his slag together, at least a little.

When he turns them on again, all the mirth has left his human’s face. The medic’s eyes are serious, a sad sort of expression on his face, and Deadlock wants to curl himself around the man and never let go.

“Right,” sighs Ratchet, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I was sort of hoping you knew about that already.”

The last flutter of hope he was harboring vanishes. “So he was right? You only live for- eighty, ninety of your years?”

“Afraid so, kid,” says the man, suddenly looking so fragile in Deadlock’s palms. “Look, I know it’s not a lot to your kind, but-“

“And there’s nothing to be done? Can’t you- figure something out?”

He’s reaching and he knows it, but the human looks so- accepting of it. Like it’s a perfectly normal thing, to barely get to live at all before your body breaks down and dies, just like that!

Ratchet shakes his head with a wry smile. “Not how that works. People have been trying, sure, but nobody ever really got anywhere. And even if we did manage to drastically expand our lifespans somehow, the psychological effects it would have… we’re just not made for that, Deadlock,” he says, patting Deadlock on the nearest finger; a ghost of a touch, but still comforting. “I, hah, appreciate your faith in me kid, but not even I can do miracles.”

“I just don’t- how the fuck can you be so alright with that?” Deadlock asks, feeling utterly miserable.

The man snorts. “What else is there to do? It’s not like worrying about it would fix anything, and I’m not going to waste my life thinking about my death.” Then the human’s gaze softens, and he stands up to be more optic-level with Deadlock. “Listen to me. I know this is a hard pill to swallow, but there’s nothing you, or anybody else, can change about it. The only thing you can do,” he says gently, reaching a hand towards Deadlock’s cheek, “is make the most of it.”

Deadlock exvents, suddenly feeling deeply tired. “Right. Right, I guess I just- gotta make it count, then,” he mutters, carefully leaning into the contact and the comfort it brings.

Ratchet smiles at him. “That’s the spirit. Have fun with Roddy- safe fun,” he quickly adds. “Take him on drives, or, hell, feel free to bum around my workshop as usual, if that’s what you want. You know I don’t mind the company, provided you behave yourself,” says the doc, his words punctuated by a mock-threatening look. “Just… try enjoy the time you have with us, okay?”

“Mkay,” he answers, voice still choked with static, before pulling the little medic to his chestplates. This close to his spark, he can read the human’s odd, tiny EM field with perfect clarity – concern, quiet affection and a deep kind of care rolls off of him in waves. Sometimes, Deadlock wishes he could tangle their fields together properly, synchronizing their frequencies in an embrace only possible for his kind, but- this is good too. More than good, really – it’s something unique to the two of them, and that makes it perfect as far as he’s concerned.

“Now, I’d really like to know which tactless bastard just dropped all this on you,” jokes Ratchet, the vibrations of the man’s voice tickling pleasantly against his plating, “so I can go brain them with a wrench for it.”

Despite himself, Deadlock snorts. “I think Swerve might be a little outside your size class, doc.”

“Oh, don’t you underestimate me, kid!” the medic grumbles, but he’s laughing too, and the return to the usual banter eases some of the weight on Deadlock’s spark.

Forty stellar cycles, maybe fifty.

He’ll make those years count.

He’ll make them be enough.

(Maybe, if he repeats it a few hundred times more, he’ll make himself believe it, too.)

[celestialprincesse]

Giggly, fluffy, post deployment sex w/ Simon 🥴🫶 I don't know what possessed me to write this, but it's here I guess

like baaaaarely nsfw but still, mdni💕

"S' - Got the - zoomies." You pant, giggling breathlessly as Simon stills from where he'd been plunging into you, a confused brow raised, prompting you to explain yourself as you lay laughing beneath his massive torso.

"The fuck is a zoomie? S'that like a drug or some shite? Are you on drugs?" Suddenly he's massively concerned, always so worried about everything that could possibly harm you in any way. It also doesn't help that his phone is some ancient brick that's survived countless falls, literal gunfights, and his day-to-day life, which is a miracle in itself.

The perplexed look on his face only serves to make you laugh further, gripping your stomach as you wheeze incoherently, babbling about how he's so old, and that the stone age called. Meanwhile, he gives you a little slap on the ass, just to attempt to regain the reins on the situation and save himself the embarrassment.

"Zoomies are like - like cats!" You heave, still clutching your stomach, unable to stop the way you howl with laughter at your normally stoic boyfriend, blushing like an idiot, burying his face against your clavicle.

"I don't - I'm not going to ask." He sighs in faux disappointment, unable to hide the way his heart warms at seeing your bright smile, hearing you laugh after having been away for so long.

"M'kay." You agree, laugh dying down slightly, leaving you with a tummy ache. "Sorry, carry on."