#and then he struggles through the spring but just when he’s starting to hit his stride at the giro he gets sick

[etapereine]

.

[nanivinsmoke]

❥KNOCK THAT KITTY CAT OUT!

old!manlogan x f!reader

summary ❥ everything and everyone seems to stress the old man out, what happens when he takes it all out on you? title inspired by sir mix a lot

warnings: dom logan, sub reader, fingering, oral (m receiving), multiple orgasms, raw sex, breeding kink, claws come out, spanking, etc.

note: round three! enjoy my hunni buns. m.list here. wc: 1.9k

the loud cling of his belt as it hit the floor, echoing throughout the room, making you gulp as you watched the older man saunter over towards you. following his belt, his button up fell to the floor, leaving him in his beater; showing off his salt and pepper chest hair.

“had a long fucking day, doll. a long fucking day. ‘m gonna need you to be a good girl and take it,” he looked at you, stress etched into his brows, letting you know he exactly how this was going to play out. “okay, daddy~” your voice sweet and sultry, making his cock throb in his black slacks.

logan motioned you over to him, watching you crawl your way over on the bed, kneeling right in front of him as you reached out and palmed his bulge. drool started to trickle out of the corner of your mouth, own arousal building as you anticipated what was to come next.

a low growl left his mouth, tangling his hand into your hair, gripping it and tugging your head back; making you stare into his dark irises. “pull it down,” he ordered and you didn’t hesitate to unzip his slacks and pull them down, revealing his fat bulge that sat behind his grey boxers. you moaned softly, tugging them down as well, his fat cock springing free.

his tip was coated in globs of sticky precum, which you happily licked up. he stiffened from your actions. your warm wet tongue teasing his sensitive head, making more of the translucent fluid pool out, before you finally wrapped your mouth around his tip.

the older man sighed, watching as you took him whole, slowly easing him to the back of your mouth; nearing your throat, before you pulled back. felt like you were teasing him, even though you weren’t. he was huge and it usually took a minute for you to relax and get used to his size, but the old man didn’t have any patience for it—he had an unbelievably hard day.

the grip on your hair became tighter as he pushed your head further down on his fat cock, making your cheeks puff up and your pretty little eyes well up with tears. he began to move his hips, pulling himself out of your warm mouth before pushing back in, repeating the process and causing strings of spit to trickle down.

“just like….that, doll. nice and sloppy.” he praised, making your cunt gush. they he was using your mouth like his own personal pocket pussy was so arousing, this was exactly what you needed. you were glad his job stressed him out, so he could fuck you like the slut that laid deep inside of you.

he wiggled his hips into your face, looking down into your eyes as you took him so well. you looked so pretty like this too. eyes big and watering with tears as he stuffed your mouth full of cock, fucking your throat just the way he liked it. the old man was losing himself. in some sadistic way, he got off at the thought of destroying you—using you to fulfill he desires. and you knew it too, that’s why you moved a free hand down to your clothed cunt and began to rub your little bundle of nerves.

the more he fucked your mouth to his liking, the closer he got to his orgasm and soon he was coating your mouth with thick ropes of cum. the growl he let out had you cumming along with him. you struggled to swallow his seed, overtaken by the slight intensity of your orgasm—earning a harsh tug on your hair. “swallow,” he commanded and you did as you were told, earning a ‘good girl’ from him.

logan then told you to get in his favorite position, ass up—face down. your peach shaped ass sat up high in the air, allowing him to see how much slick that started to see through your red laced panties. he sucked his teeth and shook his head, pulling the thin fabric to the side; your drooling cunt glistening just for him.

a sigh escaped your mouth when your walls stretched to make room for his cock. despite him fucking you almost everyday, you remained tight as ever and he loved that. when he was finally inside of you, he gripped your hips and pushed his own forward, practically pressing into your cervix; which made you back up.

“told me you were gonna take it,” he scolded and brought you back onto his dick. you whimpered and clenched the silk sheets beneath you, bracing yourself for what’s to come. yet, nothing could prepare you for his ruthless attack on your cunt.

the way he showed you no mercy as he drilled your cunt, had your mind spinning and your eyes fluttering to the back of your head. it was mind boggling to see this older man have this much stamina, yet everything about it felt so good. his balls meeting your clit, smacking it each time to the lewd squelching of your cunt—which made both of your sexes throb.

logan’s pace quickened and he was pounding into you even harder before, making you bite down into the sheets—walls squeezing him as he moved. you could feel your stomach get tighter, wach time his cock rubbed against your spot; earning a series of muffled moans leaving your lips. you were gonna cum so hard and he knew it too.

a harsh smack met your plump ass, the stinging sensation only aroused you and had you wanting more. “harder! please..~”

he grunted in response and repeated his actions, this time harder than the last; making you yelp out, coming undone on his dick. specks of white blurred your vision as you were overtaken by the intensity of your own orgasm, the sheets drenched from your arousal.

but, he didn’t stop there. still fucking you through the mattress—your mind clouded by the second with nothing but thoughts of his delicious dick. “daddy….—‘s too much, please~” your pleas went on deaf ears because he kept stuffing you with his cock, the fat of your ass echoed loudly throughout the room.

your boyfriend let out a loud grunt, before he painted your gummy walls a shade of white. your third orgasm for the night followed right after, your body shook and trembled; this orgasm just as intense as the last. and when he pulled out of you, the warmth of his seed made you feel all tingly and satisfied, which made you glad that he was finished.

until he wasn’t.

—

you should’ve know he wasn’t going to let up on you, especially after the kind of day he had. logan needed to destress and there was no better way to than have your plushy walls wrap around him as he fucked everything away.

you were currently on your back, with him behind you, his thick digits plunging in and out of your wetness; bringing you closer to your orgasm only for him to remove his fingers each time—edging the hell out of you.

whines left your mouth and your eyes brimmed with tears, you needed to let go badly. you tried grinding against his palm, hoping that he would finally let you cum, only to earn a smack towards your cunt—which made you cry out. you were frustrated and he knew that. he was getting off watching you squirm, trying to ease some of the tension he caused you; only for him to pull away each time.

“baby please! please let me cum. please,” oh that nearly made him cum right in his spot. hearing you sob and your voice cracking while you begged for it, broke him, and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

his fingers were drenched with your sappy essence, coating them each time he fingered your aching hole. sweet sultry mewls left your mouth and meshed beautifully with the sounds of your pussy; which made the older man pump his fingers faster. you gripped his wrist and bucked your hips upwards as you released the tension that was thick in your stomach.

streams of clear liquid splashed out from your cunt, hitting his palm and your bed—staining it some more. “that’s it. that’s my pretty girl, make a mess for me.”

he continued to pump his fingers faster inside of you, making you squirt even more. and when he finally pulled away, slurping up the remenants of your juices, before leaning down to finally kiss you. the taste of you against his tongue made your eyes flutter and your gushy cunt throbbed. you were so dizzy from the kiss and when he pulled away it was like you were brought back to reality.

logan moved from his spot and laid on the opposite side of you, his hands behind his head while his dick stood tall; shocking you.

did this man take a fucking viagra or something?

he pulled you on top of him, his unbelievably hard cock laid smack on your lower belly; twitching with desire. you gulped and looked down at him; those hazel eyes unbelievably darkened with lust.

“baby….i don’t—I can’t cum anymore, please.”

“just one more. just need one more from my pretty girl. ‘m gonna do all the work, just need you to take it.”

and he kept his word, jackhammering the hell out of you; your nails digging into his skin from the brute force. he groaned in pain and pleasure, his wounds slowly healing while he continued to fuck you stupid. it seems that he was gonna break your cunt while pulling another orgasm from you.

logan could feel you clenching and unclenching around him and he pushed your back down, connecting your mouth with his. “go ahead and cum for me, doll. need to see you cum for me.” he pulled away and you whined, your vision hazy as your climax took over you. your ass clapping with each powerful thrust as he continued to give you dick.

the tighter you clung to his cock, the quicker his own orgasm came down on him and soon he was losing it. he let out the loudest growl ever, his claws unsheathing and sinking deep into the mattress; while he pumped your cunt full of his cum.

and with a few more sloppy thrusts, he pulled out and his claws retracted back into his skin, before you slid off of his sweaty body. your body shook and writhed as you still felt how intense your orgasm was—ropes of his cum starting to pool out of your, until he stopped it with his palm.

“need you to keep it inside. want you all round and plump with my kid inside,” he leaned over and kissed your tear stained cheek—eyes fluttering with sleepiness.

“don’t….don’t go to work tomorrow. can’t take it, ‘m gonna be sore for days.” he chuckled at your remark before pulling the covers over the both of you, cuddling up against your weak body.

it would be a while before you could take him again like this, but it was all worth it.

[slytherinshua]

WITHOUT WORDS

genre. fluff. maybe a bit suggestive?? warnings. making out. they're so in love it's disgusting(ly cute). half proofread. pairing. sunghoon x fem!reader. wc. 1.1k. request. no. a/n. i don't think i've watched any enhypen content since like spring 2022... but i still wrote this just to feed @hursheys brainrot so she better thank me smh.

Perhaps the only time where you could admire your boyfriend without getting embarrassingly hot in the face was when he was asleep. You weren’t sure how it was possible for someone to be so handsome, but Sunghoon surpassed perfection in many areas, so you had grown to accept it. The first morning light had just started to seep through the window, shining softly over Sunghoon’s face.

And, god, he just looked so pretty. His hair fell over his forehead, eyelids closed, lips slightly parted letting soft breaths out. You were practically hypnotised by him. Usually you weren’t so utterly down bad for him (well, no, you were), but you simply couldn’t take your eyes off of him this morning. 

You silently brushed his hair away from his face, your touch light and gentle so as to not disturb him. The light from the window hit his now exposed forehead and eyebrows, warming up his cool toned skin and taking your breath away. You would never not be in love with him.

Your eyes shifted to his perfect nose, and the little brown mole that dotted the side of his nose bridge. You gave in to the immediate urge to press a gentle kiss to it, despite knowing that the action would probably wake him up. He was bound to wake up sooner or later from the light anyway, and you knew he always liked waking up to your kisses.

Your hand cupped his cheek, a finger softly tracing his jawline and then eyebrow, as if you were memorising his every feature. When you lifted your hand, intent on bringing it back to rest by your side, your wrist was caught midway by Sunghoon’s fingers. Although his eyes were still closed, he guided your hand back to the side of his face, a silent plea for you to continue your gentle touch. 

Instead of opening his eyes, his lip twitched, threatening to lift up into a smile. He tried to suppress it, but he too was struggling with the butterflies that your touch gave him. When it was just you two, he felt like he was floating, heart completely caught in your hold. Just when he thought he was the happiest he ever could be, you proved him wrong.

He gave in, letting the breathless laugh that was fighting to emerge, out, gracing your ears with the sound. When he opened his eyes, he was met with his favourite sight, one that he was sure he would never get tired of. Sunghoon was well aware that he was debilitatingly in love with you, but he faced the feeling with pride. He allowed you to invade his every thought, direct his every decision, and dwell at the very centre of his universe. It was where you belonged. 

There were no words needed between you two. All sentiments were delivered through your eyes, as you both could read each other like it was second nature.

Sunghoon’s ebony eyes sparkled with many messages, the most obvious of which was I love you. After years of dating him, that was one you could never miss. There was rarely a time where you didn’t see it reflected in his irises. It had become a constant for Sunghoon. Loving you was simply a part of his identity. He wasn’t himself without the love that you brought out of him. 

Your fingers danced on his cheek again, committing the feeling of his smooth skin to memory. He had a busy day ahead of him, and you knew you wouldn’t be seeing his face again until the middle of the night, so you took your time, soaking him in for as long as you could. Sunghoon was attentive to this as well, but had something else on his mind regarding how to spend the time he had left with you. He caught your wrist, this time using it to bring you closer to him, your nose almost brushing against his.

“Let me kiss you.” Came his soft request, his voice deep and slightly raspy from sleep. You smiled, meeting his lips immediately. There would never be a time when you would refuse his wish to kiss you. You sighed when he kissed you back, the warmth of his love reaching you from his lips.

You bit his bottom lip gently, making him gasp. His lips parted just enough to allow your tongue past them, the movement causing goosebumps to rise on his skin. His hands slipped to your waist under the covers, circling his thumb over your skin under your pyjama shirt (which just so happened to be one of his old t-shirts). 

Sunghoon knew he would have to break away from you sooner than he wished in order to allow time to get ready for the day. This only urged him to kiss you deeper, drowning in the feeling of you. His tongue circled yours, the dance of lip and tongue feeling as natural as breathing. He knew exactly how you liked to be kissed, years of perfecting his skills ever clearer to you as he pulled you closer.

He wished he could kiss you for eternity. He wished he didn’t have to leave you or the bed. He wished he could call the day off and stay— stay with you for the rest of his life. He was sure he would do that, but not in the way he currently wanted to right now. His work was far too important to miss, as he had several important shoots to attend. He had to cut his losses, no matter how hard it was to leave you for the entire day.

So, he pulled away, although it broke his heart to do it. You let out a quiet whine, knowing that he had to leave soon and dreading it as much as he did. He soothed you with a few quick kisses to your cheek and nose, hand squeezing your hip before he sat up, eyes lingering on your figure under the covers.

He checked the time, panicking slightly when he realized that he may have kissed you for a minute or two longer than he should have. He’d have to cut his shower short. He grabbed the clothes he had picked out the night before and rushed to the bathroom, giving you a quick smile as he closed the door. You heard the shower run for no longer than 3 minutes, and the hurried movements of him brushing his teeth and changing. 

He emerged exactly 6 minutes later, grabbing his bag and blowing you a kiss before he left. You sighed, eyes focused on a random spot on the ceiling. The taste of Sunghoon’s lips lingered on yours, making you smile slightly. You already missed him, and it hadn’t been a minute since he left. You were so down bad for him.

You rolled over to his side of the bed, squishing your face into his pillow (which smelled just like him) and falling back asleep.

↳ enhypen taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @ddeonudepressions,, @minholing,, @delcakoo,,

@kpoprhia,, @weird-bookworm,, @cha3w0n-hearts,, @candewlsy,, @blossominghunnie,,

@amara-mars,, @wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @heavenfilm,, @sobun1est,,

@bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @sxmmerberries,, @talking-saxy,, @nicholasluvbot,,

@dimplewonie,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @stannwjnss,, @gong-fourz

[valsverse]

• just thinking about percy jackson as your summer bf. fumbling with sunscreen, smearing it on each other’s noses, missing spots on purpose. sticky cuddles under the blanket, even though the air is way too hot for any kind of physical contact. popsicle juice dribbling down your chin, and him kissing it away, his lips sweet and a little too eager. racing into the ocean, him pretending to trip just to make you laugh. stealing sips of each other’s lemonade, but only when you think he’s not looking. screaming on the rollercoaster while he pretends to be fearless, though you catch his knuckles white around the bar. arguing over the best ice cream flavor—he insists on mint chocolate chip, but you know it’s cookies and cream. beach volleyball that always ends with him picking you up and spinning you around, both of you laughing too hard to keep score. running barefoot on the hot pavement, hopping between patches of grass. falling asleep in a hammock, legs tangled, with the smell of saltwater still clinging to your skin, and waking up to sunburned shoulders and his lazy grin. • or how fall coded leo valdez is. going to haunted houses together, hiding your face in his shoulder every time you get freaked, while he grins and teases you, but never lets go. sharing one scarf because he insists he’s not cold, but somehow the scarf always ends up wrapped around you both. carving pumpkins together, where he makes his a goofy, over-engineered contraption while yours is just happy and crooked. attempting to watch Saw for halloween, but halfway through, he grabs the remote, and suddenly It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown! is on. apple cider kisses, warm and sweet, his lips tasting like cinnamon. drowning tea with lethal douses of nutmeg because he swears it makes everything better, and it does. walking through piles of fallen leaves, and just when you’re admiring the colors, he kicks a bunch of them at you, laughing as you chase him down the path. ending the night with bonfires, where he messes with the flames, making them flicker in shapes just to make you laugh. • and winters with luke castellan, him cupping your face in his hands, palms warm and soft, trying to chase away the chill from your cheeks, always grumbling about how cold you are, but never pulling away. sharing caramel apples, and him struggling to take a bite while making a mess, albeit with a small grin. snowball fights that start with playful teasing and end with him catching you in his arms, both of you laughing and brushing off snow. walking through the frosty streets, his arm around your shoulders, making sure you’re never too cold. stopping by a food cart for hot chocolate, where he burns his tongue but pretends he's fine, playing it off with a casual shrug while you laugh. driving through the city, holiday music low in the background, his eyes flickering between the lights and your smile; and his peppermint scent clinging to your sweater, lingering long after he’s gone. • while jason grace is undeniably a spring bf. feeding each other freshly picked strawberries, sweet and sun-warmed, his smile soft as he knows just how to choose the best ones. stopping by the convenience store for a snack run, where he knows your favorites by heart, grabbing them without a second thought. stopping by a local café for iced coffee, his fingers brushing yours as he hands you your drink.

playful water fights by the fountain, where he always ends up drenched, his hair sticking to his forehead, but he’s still grinning, water dripping everywhere as you both laugh at the chaos. visiting farmers' markets together, where he picks out the freshest fruits and insists on trying every sample with you. sharing ice cream cones that melt faster than you can eat them, him sneaking bites from yours with a playful smirk, wiping away a stray drip with the back of his hand before it hits the ground.

©valsverse— do not steal, edit, or repost my works. plagiarism is prohibited.

[thedevilrisen]

Sunsets & Daisies

Luke Hughes x Reader Word Count: 2.3k Description: Luke Hughes and his fiancée always have an annual spring photo shoot, this year for their fourth anniversary Luke gets some welcome news.

Every year, when September hits Luke and Y/N venture to some decadently and much fought over location for their annual photo shoot. What once started with the two cramming into a Photo Booth, drunk on Luke’s birthday became somewhat of their tradition.

This year Y/N had practically begged Luke to relinquish all control he had and give it to her, given as of recently a huge surprise - a future altering surprise, was now at play. It had been almost nine months since Luke proposed and with the wedding two days away the couple thought this would be the perfect time to have the shoot before the season starts.

The location was about a forty-five out of Michigan, and was scheduled for the late afternoon in an attempt to achieve some sunset lit pictures. Luke’s sling added to the difficulty of getting ready, being sure not to accidentally aggravate his shoulder while also trying to get the polo shirt on was a massive task.

"You're too tall Lukey, can you bend down a sec?" you murmured, making sure to gently thread the bunched fabric over his injured shoulder first. The swollen, bruised skin making you grimace as Luke hissed through his teeth when you rotated his arm to allow the other one to slip through. "Sorry bub."

"It's alright." Luke whispered, "You're doing your best and their isn't much else we can do for the pain."

"You can have another does of pain killers when we get there, I'll put them in my purse for you to take before we get there.” The girl spoke as she put said medicine in her purse, among other essentials as well as today’s surprise. While she was allowed the liberty of preparing the surprise with the photographer by graciously offering to organise this year's photo shoot, claiming that Luke already does to much. However if Luke told you the story, it would have been told so dramatically the person listening would have assumed you held him at gunpoint. Which was completely untrue. You had used a hot spatula.

"Sounds, good." Luke spoke, grabbing a cap, using it to brush his hair back so it sat perfectly. You could see the one handed struggle he was having as you watched his scrunched up face in the mirror.

With a heavy sigh you crossed your arms, staring at him in the mirror, "Luke, if you think for a second you are wearing that cap during the shoot you have a lot more concerning things to worry about rather then your shoulder."

“I wouldn’t dare, it’s just till we get there so my hair doesn’t get super frizzy.” Luke stated, giving a pointed look as he turned back around and started to walk over to where you sat at the vanity, brushing the last bits of makeup across your face with the brush before turning the light switch and watching the bulbs dim till the room was bathed in darkness.

Exiting down the hallway and plucking the seperate car, house and gate keys off of their designated wall hooks in the entry way, playing them into your purse knowing because of Luke’s arm, even though he would insist on driving you will have to. Walking into the kitchen, hand brushing past the marble countertop, fingers drifting over the bunch of bananas sitting on the stone as you contemplated what you wanted to eat as well as a snack to take.

Luke trotted down the stairs quickly, heavy footsteps sounding out, softened by carpet but still loud enough to contemplate whether or not an elephant was storming throughout your house. “Should I wear my white sneakers? Or my blue ones?”

“I’d wear the blue.. well they are navy actually. There might be red dirt there and it will be easier to get it out of the blue rather than the white.” you said with an analytical tone, thinking best about the circumstances. “Besides, they will work well with your shirt.”

You heard Luke shuffle off down the hallway to the mud room, where you had all the shoes stowed away in little cubby cubes under the coat rack.

“Can you grab my black ankle boots please?” you requested as you opened the fridge, still in search for snacks you knew you were going to want inevitably. It was remarkable how dense men were sometimes, Luke, who knows you inside and out hasn’t even put a thought as to why you may be eating more or why you wanted one food constantly. Almost like you were craving, something.

“The ones with the little chain?” Luke called back out, you could hear him pulling the weaved baskets in and out.

“No! The ones with the little ribbing down the side of the legs?” You spoke, albeit louder so it carried down the hall into the room Luke was in.

“So the ones with the chain!” Luke’s tone matched yours, his with filtered confusion. He was holding said boots, they were black with a tan, woody coloured block on the heel of them, although it added little height and across the ribbed stitching on the side of the boots was a dainty little gold chain.

From where you were standing, brow creased as you looked into the fridge, eyes darting from the bread to make some toast, to the eggs which you could quickly scramble and maybe put on the toast. Then your eyes locked with the packet of dark chocolate covered almonds. Now they would be good.

“Y/N!” Luke cried, still looking at the boots as he waited for an answer. Looking at the wall with a expression of concern and disbelief.

“They aren’t the same boot Luke! They are different bo-“ Y/N cut herself off as Luke wandered into the kitchen, boots in hand. “Oh. But they are two different boots! I swear they are!”

Slamming the fridge door shut, discarding the loaf of raisin toast and butter container and jar of strawberry jam on to bench, crouching and letting the items fall from your arms onto the bench with a clink from the glass jar. You rounded the counter, using your hand to prevent you from bumping your hip bone on the stone.

Luke watched as you damn near jogged, more of a hop, skip and jump down the hall towards the mud room. It was cute, watching your light anger in being wrong show through your actions. Listening to the manic shuffling of the woven crates as you pulled them out of each of their cubby shelves only to see they weren’t the pair of shoes you thought existed, but clearly didn’t. When you came stomping back down the hall with a heavy pout and furrowed brow, giving the boots which matched the description you gave with disdain.

“You were right.” Your tone was short and sad.

“Yeah.. is that upsetting you?” Luke asked, eyebrows scrunching together.

“It is. It shouldn’t but it is.” You spoke in an incredulous tone. Moving back over to the bench, fingers toying with the plastic covering the bread loaf. You felt as if you wanted to yell, cry and scream all at the same time. Darn mood swings.

Luke just laughed, a rich hearty sound that made your knees wobble as you screwed open the jam jar, placing the raisin toast into the toaster, waiting and ruffling through different packets of chips in the snack drawer picking out two and throwing them in Luke’s direction.

“What flavours do you want?” You asked, still swatting your way through the chip drawer.

“I’m not going to be hungry. I ate before remember?” Luke looked up from his phone.

“Okay the-“ you cut yourself off as the toaster popped up, bringing the raisin toast with it. You grabbed the toast out, flinging it onto the bench after realising it was too hot to just hold onto.

Smearing the butter and jam onto the slices of toast, shoving one into your mouth holding it in your teeth as you turned and placed the bread and condiments back into the fridge. After taking a solid, hearty bite of the toast you placed it back onto the bench, not minding the crumbs that dropped off it. You grabbed the boots from where they sat next to the kitchen island counter and slipped your feet into them, the black tights you were wearing to battle the brisk september air aiding in your pursuit.

"Are you ready to go?" Luke looked up as you asked him this, stretching his none injured arm out, then slotting his phone into his back pocket.

"Whenever you are!" He replied enthusiastically, standing up and holding his hand out for you. He watched as you grabbed your purse, still holding your piece of toast trying not to let the jam dribble down your hand. Luke held the front door open as you stepped out and followed the path to where the car was parked in the driveway. You pressed down on the key fob to unlock the door so you could slide into the driver seat while Luke situated himself in the passenger seat, awkwardly reach across his body to pull the seat belt over and click it into place.

Mirroring Luke, albeit with more ease you strapped yourself in before pulling backwards out of the driveway, checking both ways for traffic. Heading to the stop sign at the end of the street, pulling away from the suburban area and driving away from the city after taking an entry onto the highway to go south. Luke had taken care of the music, connecting his phone to the car via aux cord and playing the majority of his songs, with your input for a song here and there.

"Play that Garth Brooks one.. the country one Jack really likes." you spoke, voice raised slightly to project over the song that was currently playing.

"Why would I play that?" Luke questioned back, his face skeptical.

"Because Callin' Baton Rouge is a fantastic song. Now play it." you responded, looking in the rearview mirror, checking the lanes next to you before merge into the exit turning lane, heading down a rural street where the sides of the road was lined with fences holding cattle in and big tall trees acting as a windbreak.

Even though he had absolutely no idea where the final destination was Luke was staring to catch on that it might have something to do with a field, something very nature-y. He was right, or by the fact that you pulled up next to a white toyota camry near the entrance gate to a field which was bordered with a small forest. Following you and getting out of the car, he watched as you ambled over, shook the young woman's hand.

"Luke, this is Kelly. She will be doing our photos this year." Y/N introduced the photographer, it was obvious that she wasn't a random due to the high quality canon camera she was cradling in one arm.

"Pleasure to meet you." Luke exchanged pleasantries with the woman before the little group of three set off into the field, heading towards the treeline. There was a dirt track that Luke could hear led down toward a creek, he could see why you had told him not to wear his good white shoes, there was a certain chance his shoes would be getting a little dirty.

With all credit to you, he had to admit that the spot was absolutely stunning and he couldn't imagine a more perfect place for the photos. Particularly when the dense foliage thins out and he can see the beautiful architecture of some kind of ruined building. Nature had taken over, vines crawling all up the elegant arches which were bathed in late afternoon sun.

"This is beautiful darlin'" Luke murmured in your ear as he looked up from where he was perched on a rock, this was just one of the many positions and places Kelly had you too stand, sit, hug, kiss, smile or laugh for the photos. He already seemed elated at the fact the photoshoot was happening, he hadn't even gotten the news that was turning your stomach inside out with nerves. Or was it something else?

"Okay, Luke, can you turn and face the creek? I need Y/N behind you, and then you are going to turn around." Kelly asked, setting up for the final shot of the big moment. She winked at you as you pulled the little reel of photos out of your purse. Taking a deep calming breath as you stood behind him, holding the photos that represented your future with Luke, you hands were shaking but you stood. "Okay Luke. Turn around for me."

As Luke did you met his briefly before they locked onto the ultrasound photos you held for him to see. His beaming smile dropped into a gape as he looked at the photos dumbfounded, but it quickly returned as he opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the words he so desperately wanted to say. Instead he scooped you into his arms, spinning you around as the camera clicked. Capturing this moment forever, allowing you to reflect on it and show it to family and friends.

"Your- Your seriously." Luke stammered, placing you down, cradling the side of your head as well as the side of your stomach.

"Yeah.. I am." you smiled back, matching his grin with one just as bright.

He pulled away turning away and pumping the air before shouting into the forest clearing. "I'm going to be a dad!"

Yes you are Luke Hughes, a damn great one.

[eiightysixbaby]

LEAH may I humbly request Eddie and best friend!Reader play wrestling and Reader pins him to the ground and boom ✨making out✨?

xoxo @munson-blurbs 💚

my requests are ALWAYS open for you, bug.

“I just don’t know where Carver gets off being such a dick to everyone,” Eddie scoffs. “I’d love to teach him a lesson, kick his stupid teeth in.”

You giggle. It’s not really a laughing matter, but you giggle.

Eddie cocks an eyebrow, giving you a sideways glance as he unlocks the door to the trailer. “What’s so funny, sweetheart?”

He toes off his sneakers in the entryway, awaiting your answer as you take your time untying your own, trying to avoid the answer.

“Listen, you know you’re my best friend, right? Okay?” you start, peaking Eddie’s curiosity even more. “I’m not saying you couldn’t kick Carver’s ass, but…. I don’t know! I just don’t view you as particularly ‘tough’,” you say, shrugging your shoulders as you walk over to the couch.

Eddie just looks at you, eyebrows hidden under his bangs as he lifts them.

“Don’t get offended! You just… you’re always so gentle around me,” you quickly add, attempting to soften the blow to his ego.

“Oh no, sweetheart, I think you’ve made it verryyyy clear that I can’t throw a punch,” Eddie replies, holding his hands up. “I get it, really,” he sighs dramatically, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Don’t start,” you laugh, pointing a finger at him.

“I suppose you could take me then? You could kick my ass?” he goes on, gesturing towards himself with one hand.

“I could absolutely take you in a fight. You wouldn’t dare throw a punch at me,” you say matter-of-factly, and of course you’re correct.

“Okay, sure. You could take me,” he says, too compliant to be believable. He slowly steps towards the couch, drawing out his movements. You eye him suspiciously as he sits down on the opposite end of the furniture. “But could you fight back against… the tickle monster?”

And in one swift movement, before you can even comprehend, he’s right beside you, hands reaching for your sides as his fingers hit your most ticklish spot.

“No! Eddie!!” you squeal, laughing against your own will, body coiling into itself as he relentlessly attacks you.

You feel like you can’t catch your breath, laughter roaring through you as tears spring to your eyes. He’s stronger than you, keeping you curled beneath him, fingers digging into your sides. He laughs along with you, and the sound infiltrates your ears, making your heart strum a tune. If your stomach wasn’t hurting from laughter, you wouldn’t want him to stop. Wouldn’t want him to get any farther away.

There’s a brief moment where he eases up, if you’d blinked you’d have missed it, but luckily you didn’t. You see your opportunity, shoving him off of you with your hands, making a break for it as you pounce off of the sofa.

He’s quicker, though, recovering from your shove and lunging after you, picking you up and slinging you over his shoulder.

“You dare think you can outsmart me!?” he roars, putting on his best monster voice.

You kick and flail, smiling so wide your cheeks hurt as you pound on his back to let you go. If you think too long about the way he’s holding onto you you’re sure to melt. He walks you into his bedroom, throwing you down on his fluffy mattress before completely pinning you there, triumphant.

“You’re not trying very hard, sweet girl,” he teases, smirking at the way you struggle to free your wrists from his grip.

“Shut up,” you mumble, scrunching up your face when Eddie’s hair tickles your nose.

You wrestle out of his grasp finally, thrashing around in an attempt to move him from where he hovers above you. You manage to topple him over, newfound strength taking over as you pin him down, pressing his shoulders against the mattress. You sling a leg over his lap, straddling him and keeping him in place.

He’s wide-eyed at your sudden burst of ferocity, mouth parted just slightly as he catches his breath.

“See? Told you I could kick your ass,” you say, smug and confident.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just continues to look at you — those big eyes staring through to your soul. Your breath catches in your throat, then, becoming all too aware of the position that you’re in. It feels like you sit there staring at each other for eons, listening to the clock tick from his bedside table.

Then, he moves his hands. Slowly, tentatively, letting them rest on your hips. Holding you where you are, not wanting you to move.

“Eddie—” you start, your voice failing you, coming out incredibly breathy.

“Can I kiss you?” he interrupts, getting the words out quickly, as if they were begging to be let loose.

“Yeah,” you nod.

He’s pulling your face down, then, and you follow his guidance. Your lips collide against his, his tongue immediately parting them for entrance. There’s no room to be timid, not with the way he kisses you like it’s his dying wish. Your heart pounds in your chest, because you’re kissing your best friend. Does he know how badly you’ve wanted this? Has he felt the same this entire time?

Clearly he has, with the way he whimpers into you when your tongue starts to explore his mouth. His hands don’t let go of your cheeks, big palms encompassing your soft skin, thumbs rubbing softly against your cheekbones. And suddenly you feel like you can’t be close enough to him, like your chest being pressed to his and your tongues in each others’ throats simply isn’t enough and you need to crawl inside of his skin and reside there.

You pull away all too soon, just slightly, reluctantly. He still holds your face, wanting to pull you right back to him, his eyes searching yours. So impossibly beautiful.

“You keep kissing me like that, and I won’t tell a soul that I totally just kicked your ass,” you tease, making him snort, his kiss-bitten lips mere millimeters from your own.

Another firm kiss to your mouth, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip until a breathy moan releases from you. “Okay, deal.”

[poppadom0912]

Is it too late?

Warnings: Mentions of periods, hospitals, surgery, pain and illness

Summary: When your older brother is a fancy surgeon, being sick is the last thing you want.  

Requested by @1chicago5021

A/N: I'm still alive people. I had a sudden burst of inspiration and thought I'd finally get all these requests done before the next round of exams. I am in a lesson right now so I can’t do the usual aesthetic collage I always do. This was sent quite a while ago but I actually had so much fun writing this so thank you! I hope this lives up to your standards <3

*****

Two weeks ago now, your body randomly started not working the way you wanted it to, but you put all the blame on your period whose cramps hadn't been very forthcoming.

The painkillers were a coming in at a constant stream, hot water bottles never having the chance to go room temperature.

Your never-ending migraines and 24/7 cramps were a constant, so you expected to feel relief once you were back to normal. But that never came because this week started and somehow, you felt even worse.

When you woke up this morning to your throat feeling weird, you knew something was wrong when you drank water and the feeling didn’t go away.  

Despite that, you went to school anyways, bidding your brother goodbye when he dropped you off, completely unaware of your wellbeing. But you couldn’t blame the guy, he was stressed enough over work as it is, you didn’t need to add to his already overflowing workload.  

You only felt worse as the day progressed. It was only spring, nearing summer, but your body temperature wouldn’t stop fluctuating. One minute you were shivering and asking to borrow your friend's hoodie but the next you were sweating like you had just finished a marathon and was trying to get rid of as many layers as possible.  

The cramps were immense. The worst you ever had and to consider you just got off your period, you weren’t a stranger to post period cramps, but this was on another level. You hadn’t been in this much pain ever even while on your reds. None of the pain killers your friends kindly provided for you alleviated the pain. Death would feel ever so sweet right about now.  

You knew you were seriously sick when you were on the verge of collapsing at lunch. Your friends all shouted in alarm when you faltered on your feet in the cafeteria. You ignored their efforts and attempts to get you to the nurse's office. There wasn’t long left of the school day, there wasn’t any point in leaving with barely two hours left.  

As soon as you got home, you fell face first into bed. As soon as your head hit the pillow and you pulled the covers over your body with however much strength remained in your arms that got heavier as the day went on.  

You were in a deep sleep, so deep in fact that your dreams were non-existent. You weren’t too sure what time it was, but you felt someone shaking you, going from gentle to a hand tightly holding your shoulder, a muffled voice inaudible as you came in and out of your slumber.  

Their gestures were painful, but you didn’t have it in you to tell the intruder as you struggled to even muster a groan. Your eyes fluttered, face digging even deeper into the pillow as if to suffocate yourself. That was all the indication the person needed to shake you harder, adamant to wake you up.  

With a blocked nose, breathing out through your mouth proved itself to be a much more difficult task than it should’ve been. And stuffing your face into your pillow might not have been the best idea taking that into consideration.

Their voice sounded way too far away, as though they weren’t in the room with you. One second they were roughly holding you, the next, all pressure ceased but the pain didn’t.

Before you could even register what they were doing now, your eyes heavy with sleep dropped once more as you were enveloped into darkness again.

*****

Over the past two weeks, Connor had noticed your depleting energy but when the mood swings came along with your hot water bottles, he didn’t think any much more of the matter.

But then you showed no signs of improvements and at first, he could hardly notice. You hid it quite well at first but as the week progressed, it was apparent to him you were getting sick, and you were too stubborn to admit that to your surgeon brother.

Nonetheless, things didn’t look too bad that staying home was necessary. You were managing quite well, going to school the entire week without complaints, so he found no reason to intervene into something he knew would end up in an argument that would result in you holding a grudge and not talking to him for a few days.

He dropped you off and drove to work expecting nothing. You smiled at him when you left the car, and nothing seemed physically wrong when you picked up the pace to meet your friends.

His twelve-hour shift seemed to never end. When he had a moment to himself, he messaged you as he waited for his coffee, staring at his message that sat alone with no replies for hours. School has finished, you were sure to be home now, so why weren’t you answering?

He didn’t think much of it till he was meant to go home at twelve. He was all ready standing at his locker but then Maggie called his name and he saw several ambulances piling up outside.

As amazing as he was, his attention couldn’t be in two places at once and unfortunately for you, car crashes had more significance in this situation. But as soon as this was all over, you’d be his number one priority once more.

It was all over six hours later when he came out of the second surgery he had to take lead in.

Stepping out of the surgery theatre, he thanked all his co-workers and was dashing away to collect his things, not wanting to be here any longer. Having time to finally check his phone again, his concern skyrocketed when you still hadn’t replied to his messages.

Waving off the few staff remaining in the emergency department, Connor wasted no time in driving off. His adrenaline had yet to die down from the rush of a packed-out emergency room and doing several successful surgeries. Adding to this was his building concern for you. Maybe you were just sleeping, and your phone was on charge. Maybe it was on silent, and you didn’t hear anything. Maybe it was stolen, and you couldn’t contact him-

Connor sighed as he parked the car. Wasting no time, his body still thrumming from the surgery high, he walked into the building and took the stairs instead, taking large strides as he skipped every two.

The house was drop dead silent when he opened the door which you hadn’t locked from the inside like you usually would. That and the completely pitch-black apartment was the first things that put him on edge.

He locked the door behind him, walking in further and inspecting the living room and kitchen that didn’t look lived in. Everything was in its same place as he left it in this morning. Closing the blinds in the living room, he walked towards your bedroom, your door slightly ajar which had never been the case since you started living with him. You always shouted at him whenever he left the door even a slither open, you always needed complete darkness to sleep. The tiniest bit of light always hindering your sleeping ability.

Pushing the door open, Connor poked his head inside first to survey the room. He finally let himself relax at the sight of you lying in bed, your figure completely drowning in your duvet. The weird lump in your sheets being the only reason he could identify you.

He felt himself relax, his body physically deflating now that he had eyes on you, knowing for sure that nothing was wrong.

For some reason, your curtains were still open which they never were since you were young, always complaining, once again, that you needed complete darkness to be able to sleep. Closing your curtains, he found your phone on your bedside desk, and it was littered with notifications from not only him but all of your friends too. All of them were asking in variations if you were okay, if you felt better, did you get home safe and how you were feeling.

They were all sent at three in the afternoon. It was now two in the morning.

Concerned at the topic of the messages, Connor came over to the side of the bed you were laying on and placed his hand on your forehead, his eyes widening immediately. He felt himself warming up just from how hot you were.

Sitting down on the space by your knees, Connor shook you gently, trying to rouse you from your apparent very deep sleep but the only movement you made was from what he was doing.

“Y/N? Hey, wake up. Can you get up for me really quick?”

The adrenaline that was just dying down was picking up again along with his heart rate, why weren’t you waking up?

He shook you once again but this time, he was more rough, his worry meaning he gripped your shoulder tightly and shook you with a force that he’d never use on you before as his baby sister.

This time he tried calling you name while he tried getting you up. Lifting the duvet off your body, not only were you shivering but you were sweating a very unusual amount.

Swallowing harshly, Connor tried one more time, calling your name and roughly shaking you. “Come one, I need to you wake up Y/N.”

“Y/N. Y/N get up.”

But you just wouldn’t budge.

Deciding that enough was enough, he scooped you into his arms and it must’ve been the sudden movement that caused you to let out a small whimper in what was clearly pain. It was small but it was the most he’d gotten from you since he got home and that was better than nothing.

Foregoing his jacket, Connor made sure to slip your cardigan over your torso, so you weren’t going to die from the cold outside. He quickly slipped into his own shoes and left the building not a moment later.

*****

No one had been expecting Connor to be back at work so soon, not even him. It was a few minutes to three and the ED was relatively calm taking into account the big accident not too long ago, but Connor was grateful.

Getting out the car, Connor looked into the ED and called for the first person he saw.

“April! Get me a gurney!”

Said nurse was caught completely off guard, jumping from where she stood at the nurse's desk with Will not too standing behind her. He too clearly was confused but Connor had no time to dwell on them.

Not checking if she was listening, Connor rounded the car and picked you back into his arms, your head resting on his bicep and your legs on the inside of his elbow. Slamming the door shut, Connor strode into the emergency department and luckily for him, April and Will were more than ready to help.

“All the gurneys are used up from before, but we’ve got a free bed.” April said, leading the surgeon into an empty treatment room where Will was lowering the bedside rails.

“Talk to me Connor.” Will said, understanding there was no time for formalities when he saw it was you Connor was carrying.

“No clue what happened but she’s as hot as anything, she’s shivering and sweating at the same time and will not wake up for anything.” Connor started, gently laying you down and standing back to let Will and April do their jobs. He was itching to help but physically had to move further away from you so that he wouldn’t do anything stupid.

“Pretty sure she’s been sick and in pain for a while now, but she never said anything.” He continued, looking at all the numbers on the machines that were popping up as they were connected to your body. “When I asked last week, she just kept saying it was her period cramps.”

As April hooked you up onto an IV drip, Will started palpating your body in search for any particular place of pain. And when he came to a particular area in your lower abdomen and you cried out, the three of them looked at each other knowingly.

“Kieran should still be on shift.” Connor said, remembering the surgeon he left behind that was in charge and available.

Will nodded in confirmation, “Let’s move.”

*****

Waking up felt different to all the times before. Your levels of disorientation and haziness and confusion were on another level.

As soon as you opened your eyes, the first thing you noticed was the lack of pain. You couldn’t feel not even a pinch in your stomach, maybe it was weird to say but it felt liberating to not be in debilitating pain.

“Oh, thank goodness your awake.” Connor looked dead on his feet in the doorway of the room but the immense relief painting his face was like no other.

You made him feel and look like that- Shit, what happened, what did you do?

Before you could say anything, Connor beat you to it. “How are you feeling? In any pain?”

As he questioned you, a poured you a cup of water, holding it so all you had to do was drink and not need to exert energy that he knew from experience, you didn’t have.

Once again, before you could ask, he answered for you. “It was appendicitis. Your period cramps were in fact your appendix and last night it burst.”

“But it’s all good. We got you into surgery and your appendix is gone as should your pain.”

“Wow.” You said shakily, your voice so quiet from the lack of use.

“Please don’t do that next time.” Connor said, sitting on the empty seat by the bed, taking your hand into his. “Please tell me when you're in pain and when you feel sick. You matter to me; all your small or big problems are mine too. I don’t care how trivial they are.”

Silence followed as he set the glass aside. “You scared the shit out of me kiddo.”

And to say you felt guilty was an understatement.

“Claire’s pissed.” You both winced at the thought of your sister finding out. “She’s going to visit when she’s finished with work. I told her your healthy and out of surgery but she’s still pissed.”

“M’Sorry.” You apologised, voice hoarse and lips chapped. “I didn’t want-“

“Y/N.” Connors face made it look like he was in pain from your admission he cut off. “You’re never a bother to me okay? Me being a doctor is a good thing, use it to your advantage.”

You nodded, confirming to change next time if there was another time. Fingers crossed there isn’t.

“How hard was it to not do the surgery?” You smiled, squeezing his hand and poking his bicep. He was still in his scrubs from his shift last night.

Connor rolled his eyes and groaned. Such a sight made you laugh.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

No Nut November - Kirk

A/n: I have decided I'm focusing on unfinished series' first and I will deal with requests later because holy fuck I have a lot and I am ✨overwhelmed✨ so bear with me 🥹

Warnings: Smut, semipublic sex?, oral (m receiving), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Intro

It was barely a week into you staying with Metallica and the guys were all struggling. Kirk was having an especially hard time, partially because you were going after him first.

Kirk was the youngest, the calmest... honestly, he just seemed like an easy target.

He never acted on his thoughts, not that you knew of anyway, but you could see the cracks in his jokes, how he rarely made eye contact with you, left his eyes on you a second or two longer than he should've.

You were making yourself a little midnight snack in the dark, hoping that would keep people asleep since you hadn't felt like dressing up or anything. Also, your midnight snack was utterly atrocious, as is the way with the best of them, and you didn't need people coming in on that.

However, the light flicked on and you turned to see Kirk staring at you wide eyed. Shorts that weren't quite long enough and no shirt, just your bra because it was fucking hot this time of year.

"Hi." You said simply, just to break the awkward silence. Kirk's attention snapped up to your eyes and he smiled at you, crooked teeth and all.

"Hi." He replied, trying to keep his tone normal. "What are you doing?" He asked, coming closer to you.

"Making a snack." You said, continuing to work on your food.

"In the dark?" You chewed your cheek before shrugging.

"Dark doesn't scare me." You said, then you thought for a moment. "Does it scare you?"

"What?" He asked, giving you a look like he was more scared you'd genuinely think that of him. "No, of course not, why would I be scared of the dark?"

You shrugged and sucked your teeth. "I don't know, you watch a lot of horror movies, you might've thought I was some kind of demon."

"Oh, totally." He said with a soft laughter. "You know, I thought you were actually Freddie Kreuger out to get me."

"Right, right, so you came to get me first?" You asked, brow raised at him.

Kirk's mouth opened to say something but he cut himself off. "What the hell are you making?" He asked, changing the subject.

You explained your midnight snack of choice, by that time Kirk got hungry and since you were talking about horror movies he suggested you watched one with him right then. Perfect conditions, middle of the night, everyone sleeping, and you had snacks. Really, there wasn't much too it.

He set up a movie while you got to work on popcorn.

When you came over to him he was all set up on the couch with a blanket and everything. There was tons of space, the whole rest of the couch and other chairs, hell, you could've sat on the floor if you wanted. But you had a plan, and you were going to stick to it.

You sat right beside Kirk, curling up to him. Hesitantly, he returned your little act of affection and held you to his side, squeezing you gently whenever something even remotely scary happened.

You weren't too focused on the movie, you were more interested in what you could get kirk to do. You started rubbing your hand up and down his thigh, listening to his breath hitching and catching his small glimpses down to you.

He didn't stop you from pushing his shorts down and palming his hard-on through his boxers. Soft moans left him, lips parted and eyes looking dazed at the feeling.

You pushed the blanket off of the both of you and slipped off of the couch and onto your knees in front of him. Kirk looked around frantically. "We-we can't. What if-" He was cut off by a moan, which he covered by slapping a hand over his mouth.

You were pulling his shorts and boxers down, his cock springing free and hitting his abdomen, already red and leaky with pre-cum. "Don't worry," you said, trailing a finger up his length, "no one's coming down. The lights are off, they won't even notice us."

"What about the movie?" He mumbled. You glanced over you shoulder at the movie still playing.

"Then they'll notice you." You said with a shrug. He didn't look too convinced but he definitely relaxed when you took him into your mouth. He didn't care of someone came and saw you, he barely cared enough to cover his mouth as your head bobbed up and down on him, slurping, sucking and licking on him.

He spread his legs further and his hand went to the back of your head, guiding you on him, not that you needed it. His hips bucked up, pushing him deeper into your throat.

You felt him pulsing, veins on your tongue, tip hitting the back of your throat. Your eyes watered and drool dripped out the corners of your mouth. You kept your eyes on him, watching him carefully and taking mental snapshots of his expressions.

You heard noises coming from upstairs, Kirk did as well. "Stop, we have to-to stop." He said, voice breathless. Despite his words he kept pushing you back down, keeping himself in you. "Someone's gonna- fuck-!" He squeaked, holding a hand over his mouth tighter.

His body seemed to flare up, weakly trying to push you away while simultaneously holding you in place, hot cum spurting down your throat.

You pulled the blanket over you and Kirk pulled a few pillows over in a feeble attempt to cover you before the lights flicked on showed Lars standing by the stairs, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Fuck are you doing?" He grumbled, accent painfully strong with sleep.

"Watching the, uh..." Kirk stammered, pointing to the TV which still had the horror movie going.

Lars stared at him, there was no way he didn't notice the strange lump on Kirk's lap but he didn't bring it up and just nodded. "Go to sleep, weirdo." He grumbled, turning the lights back off and heading back upstairs.

You waited to here the door to Lars's room close before pushing the blanket off of you once more, finally pulling away from Kirk and wiping your mouth.

You stood and pushed your shorts and soaked panties down before sitting next to kirk. "My turn~" You said, grinning widely. How could he say no?

[hypewinter]

Bruce sighed. He was in over his head. Wayyyy over his head. Honestly he only had himself to blame. Really what was he thinking? He'd taken in one child and suddenly thought he was an expert in traumatized youths? He'd been overconfident and rash and now Danny was suffering for it and would probably hate him forever now and-

"I can hear you fidgeting through the door!" Came a voice that broke Bruce out of his spiral. There was a shuffle before the heavy wooden door swung open. A boy with floppy black hair and ice blue eyes stared up at him.

"You could've just knocked ya know?" Danny said.

Bruce fidgeted a little more, embarrassed that he'd been caught. "Bu- I thought you were-"

"Still mad at you?" Danny interrupted. "Yeah, I can tell by your face. You didn't even bother to wipe off your eyeshadow."

It was true. Bruce had rushed through patrol and gotten back home as quickly as possible. He'd barely shed his armor as he practically tripped over himself trying to get up to Danny's room. He had come up with and memorized the perfect apology to smooth things over between the two of them and had been dying to get it out before he messed anything else up. But now all the words he'd rehearsed left him.

"Wait. You're not angry?"

Danny leveled him with a blank stare as he leaned on the door frame. "Oh I'm always angry. Just not at you. At least not right now."

Upon seeing Bruce struggle to form words, Danny continued. "You were right," he said. "I shouldn't have beat up Dylan and his little minions. I knew they were intentionally trying to goad me into hitting them and I did it anyway. I-I'm sorry."

For the first time since their conversation began, Danny looked away. His look of mild annoyance was now replaced with one of shame.

"I just- they were making fun of my family. Saying stuff like 'they were small town trash and no one would miss them'. And that comment just set me off." Tears were now springing to Danny's eyes as anger took over his features.

Danny's hands balled into fists as he continued. "I couldn't just let that go. Especially not when they're the ones that are trash. They're so bothered by a 'commoner' wearing the same uniform as them that they feel the need to persistently bully me even when I have nothing to do with them. We don't share any classes, I eat lunch alone, I'm not in any clubs or extracurriculars and if I had a choice I wouldn't even be going to that damn school to begin with!"

Tears were freely streaming down Danny's cheeks as he stopped to catch his breath. His whole body was shuddering with fury. Bruce carefully put a hand on the boy's shoulder, ready to back off if Danny pulled away but he leaned in instead. Given the go ahead, Bruce carefully pulled Danny into a hug, slowly patting his back.

It took a while before either of them spoke. "I know what they said was out of line," Bruce started. "And trust me, they'll definitely receive punishment. But-"

"I know, I know," Danny murmured, turning his face to the side while still clutching onto Bruce's shirt. "Sending 5 boys to the hospital with my training is still bad."

After staying like that for a while, Danny finally looked up at Bruce. "Am I gonna be expelled?" he asked.

Bruce gave a soft smile. "Don't worry. You'll be fine. I promise."

Danny finally pulled away, rubbing at his face with his sleeve and returned Bruce's smile with a toothy one of his own. "You're gonna bribe them or something aren't you? There's gonna be a conveniently placed donation or something. You're just like those rich pricks," he teased.

"Heyyyy! How come Danny gets to cuss?" came a small voice from beyond the shadows of Danny's room. Soon enough, Dick made himself seen, Zitka cradled in his arms as he sleepily stolled forth.

"He's not," Bruce answered quickly. They had just convinced Dick to use more "colorful" insults as opposed to outright cursing and Bruce for one was not willing to face Alfred's wrath if he reverted back. A side glance at Danny told him the exact same thought was running through the boy's mind too. Leave it to Alfred to put the fear of God into two vigilantes who beat up criminals every night.

Dick yawned as he reached out for Bruce. "Then why'd he just say-"

"Don't tell Alfred and you'll have my dessert for a week," Danny interrupted in a panic.

Dick grinned. "Deal," he said as Bruce picked him up. The little boy blinked his eyes a few times before falling back asleep in Bruce's embrace.

Danny halfheartedly glared at the sleeping child. "I swear that kid is gonna grow up to be a politician the way he manipulates like that."

All Bruce could do was sigh. After all Danny was probably onto something. Dick knew very well the influence he had on others and never shied away from using it. It was very likely that he would be holding this particular little incident over their heads for at least the next two weeks.

Bruce looked at Danny, a thought suddenly dawning on him. "Why was Dick sleeping in your room? Did he have a nightmare again?" he asked, shifting the conversation.

Danny shook his head. "Nah. He just insisted that we both make up. He wouldn't leave until I agreed. That kid really doesn't know the meaning of 'no'."

Bruce felt his heart melt as he looked down at the boy in his arms. Why was Dick such a sweet child?

Danny grinned as he started heading downstairs. "Don't get all sappy yet. He was also walking me through his plan of how he got back at Dylan and his gang for my suspension."

The smile dropped from Bruce's face. "Wh... what do you mean revenge? Danny? Danny!?"

I told y'all I'd do it myself if I had to.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Guiding Hand 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, parental neglect, depression, inference of self harm, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your online academics are affected by your personal struggles but your professor won't let you give up so easy.

Characters: Raymond Smith, Lee Bodecker in the background

Note: surprise double chapters!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You lay in the dim glow of your laptop, the screen saver swooshing back and forth, giving light to the dark. You’re limned it its idleness, in a similarly inert state. You blink, eyes dry and raw, your head pounding. Your back and shoulder pang with your inactivity as you lay on your stomach, neck twisted to one side.

Your vision is static and fuzzy, the air humming. You groan and drag an arm up, the effort alone like lifting a boulder. The world is distant and desolate. There is nothing beyond those four walls.

A chime comes from your laptop. You stare at the curtain, darkness along the borders. It’s night time already. Or again. You don’t know. You lost count of the hours, rather, days.

You roll over and peer at the abyss above. The ceiling is similarly shrouded in shadows, the corners clustered with darkness. Your head spins at the effort of your movement. Your tongue is starchy and sticky from neglect. You cough and sit up, nearly falling back against your pillow.

You don’t want to be awake. It’s so much easier to sleep. Nothing makes sense in your dreams but everything is awful in real life.

You push yourself to the edge of the bed and reach for the plastic cup of stagnant water. You sip from the brim and a slam brings you back into focus. Your hand shakes and you clack the cup back on the table, turning to watch the wall as chaos erupts on the other side.

“Goddamn, Irene, get off of me. I ain’t tellin’ ya again,” the holler rolls through like thunder. “Fuckin’ skank.”

Your eyes round as your ears ring. You cover them and back up to cower against the headboard. Your lip trembles as you hear a crash followed by the shatter of glass.

“We were having fun, sweetheart,” your mother’s desperate yawl comes over the patter of her feet, “don’t go so soon, please, baby.”

“Why you actin’ like a goddamn whore?” The man snarls and you hear your mother whimper. You sniffle as you fold yourself up and push your chin down against your knee, shielding your head as if it’s you taking the blow.

“I--” your mother snivels, “I just wanna love you, hon.”

You close your eyes. Lee huffs and stomps past your door, his shadow flickering beneath. He’s just another in a line of men your mother brings around; each one as angry as the last. It always starts the same; at first, they’re nice, then you hear how they change.

“I’m too damn tired and it’s too damn late. I’ll be back when you get your head screwed on,” he retorts and hits the wall, making you jump again as the springs of your bed squeak. “And you’re a goddamn mother... should know better...”

You crouch in fear, locked up as you listen through the wall. You hear him moving around as your mother begs him to stay. You press your hands to your ears so you can’t make out her words. The front door of the apartment snaps shut and quaver out a breath.

You wait until you hear your mother retreat, herself crying, and the clink of a glass comes shortly after. You wipe your face and lift your head slowly. You won’t be able to sleep, not with your heart racing like this.

It takes all your strength to crawl across the bed and put your feet to the floor. Your stench clings to your unwashed clothes. You haven’t changed in a couple days at least. You can barely remember the last time you left your room.

You sit down in front of your computer. The metal seat of the folding chair is hard and cold, even through your pants. You squiggle your fingers over the touchpad of the outdated laptop, as thick as a book.

The screen wakes up and you key in your passcode with one finger. The wallpaper comes up, the colours stinging your eyes, and you squint as you adjust to the glare. You tap on the envelope icon to open your inbox.

At least a dozen unread emails clutter the folder. Reminders and notifications automated by your obligations and inactivity. You scroll through and delete the messages telling you to submit your assignment and noting several missed tests. At the very top, the latest of the bunch, is from a person.

Your heart sinks as you see the name and the subject line. Professor Raymond Smith, Attn: Overdue Work. God. You clutch your head and your eyes tinge once more. You don’t have enough moisture to summon any more tears. Your head pulses and your eyes itch but you can’t cry.

You shudder and make yourself look at the screen. You hover your hand over the mousepad and make yourself tap. Just one quick touch and the message opens.

The professor greets you by name. You want to dissolve into nothing. It’s easy to just be a student number on a screen but now he picks you out of the bunch and you know exactly why. You haven’t logged into the learning site in a week or more. You haven’t been able to make yourself.

��It has come to my notice that your last tasks have gone unsubmitted. As your instructor, I am obligated to check in to see whether I can expect these assignments to be submitted for grading. As well, I would offer any support necessary for you to do so.

Please respond to this email at your convenience so we might rectify this situation. You may also schedule a meeting through my calendar linked in my signature.

Best Regards,

Professor Smith’

You cringe. How do you explain to him that this always happens? That you’re just a failure?

This was supposed to be different, but just like everything, you blew it. You thought that you could make this work. You remember the day you got your acceptance; the program is manageable and you can do it all online. You thought you were getting better but your mom stopped refilling your script and you stopped caring.

You sit, blindly staring at the screen. For an hour, maybe more, caught between shame and sadness. You can’t just run away from another thing. You take a breath and raise your hands over the keyboard. It’s just letters on a screen.

Hi

Dear Pro

Hello Professor

I apologize for not submitting my work. I will not be able to complete this course due to mental health personal reasons.

Thank you.

You read and re-read. You guess it’s good enough? You don’t know. Whatever. Just another poor excuse.

You hit send and you peek at the time. You look at the original email. It’s a bit strange the instructor would email that late. You delete the email and go back to bed, hiding under the blanket. Typical, just another stupid idea.

📓

Your head throbs as you wake up. You’ve slept too much. Nothing different than usual but you haven’t left bed for more than a couple minutes at a time. Your skull feels ready to cave in and swells with each movement.

You get up, stumbling as you find your bearings, shuffling to your door and into the hall. You go into the bathroom. It’s a mess, like usual. Your mother’s clothes are on the floor and a man’s razor is on the edge of the sink. Is he here again?

You relieve yourself and flush, washing your hands then your face. You should probably shower while you’re in there. You lift your arm and confirm the need. You stink and your clothes are damp with your sweat.

You undress and crank on the faucet. You step into the grimy booth behind the counter as the water splashes down cold and slowly warms in the whining pipes. You shiver and let it cleanse you as much as it can.

You squeeze out some of the discount soap that smells like a hospital and scrub yourself as the air steams around you. You hear an odd creak then the plastic of the toilet seat hitting the porcelain tank. What the heck?

You grab the edge of the curtain and peek around it, smearing lather along the plastic. It’s opaque enough to blue your silhouette but not completely hide you. That man, Lee, belches as he holds his dick and pisses. He looks over and smirks.

“Ah, sorry, darling, didn’t know you were in here,” he chuckles and turns straight, leaning to brace the wall as he sighs, “goddamn, my balls are tight.”

You pop back behind the curtain and grimace. Ew. It’s not the first time you’ve had an awkward run in with one of your mother’s suitors, for lack of a better term, but no less jarring than any other. You shut off the water and back up, reaching past the other end of the curtain to grab the towel.

Something closes around your wrist and has you yelping. You cling to the curtain, staying behind it as Lee tugs on you.

“Don’t needa be shy, darlin’,” he tries to drag you out, “doubt it’s much different than your mama.”

You try to yank back but he’s too strong. You slip and barely save yourself as you grab onto the towel bar. You cry out, “let go! Please!”

He squeezes and you wince, pressed against the curtain as your knees buckle. Your soles are slippery on the wet tile. You whine and whimper, heart pounding in your chest.

There’s a knock at the door and he lets you go. You quickly pull free the towel and hide in the shower to wrap your body in it. You don’t think it’s clean.

“Everything okay?” The door groans with your mother’s entry.

“Ah, I’m just tryna piss and your daughter’s making all sorts of fuss,” he scoffs and flushes the toilet, “like she ain’t never seen a real man before.”

“Oh, Lee, you shoulda let her finish--”

“What’s the big deal, she was in the shower,” he deflects, “you know I ain’t her for that brat.”

You pant and lean against the wall, veins coursing with adrenaline. Your mother grumbles as they leave. You feel the draught of the open door and warily sidle out from behind the curtain. You gather your clothes and check that the coast is clear and find your way back to your room.

You pull on a fresh hoodie and your least dirty pair of sweats. You need to do laundry desperately. You need to do a lot of things. Your computer bings as if to agree with that sentiment.

You sit down at the table and stare at your laptop. The folding plastic thing has barely enough room for that and your notebook. You sigh. All you do is sigh. Everything is just a disappointment. You have nothing but trash around you and you fit right in.

You open the lid and login. You could watch that play through of the new fantasy game you can’t afford. Or you just break that damn thing. You have an email.

You don’t click on it right away. Instead, you scroll through a subreddit on an obscure television show you streamed on Youtube. All the posts are years old and the place is dead. If you’re good at anything, it’s avoidance.

Finally, your anxiety knots tight enough for you to do something. You close your browser and open Outlook. You make a strange noise as you see the response to the email you sent days ago. Or by your estimation. You scratch your neck until the skin burns.

You work at deleting the spam from your inbox before you’re forced to face the Re:

You click and read with trepidation. Again, the professor addresses you by name.

‘I understand that you are dealing with personal obligations. Considering how far we are in this course, I would like to allow you the opportunity to complete it successfully. If the current workload is too much, we can discuss alternatives to meet the learning objectives.

I would prefer that we have this conversation face-to-face. If you would like explore your options, please use the link below to meet with me on Tuesday at noon. Please confirm here and I look forward to meeting and speaking with you then.

Also let me know if I can do anything else.

Professor Smith’

You want to melt into nothing. You want to evaporate from existence. You want to just keel over and die. How embarrassing!

You want to delete it a forget. You want to say now and through everything away. You want to go back to how you’ve always been. You want to be a slug in the dirt. You want to stop hoping because it only ever ends like this.

But you can’t. You hit the trash button but then you can’t help but stretch your fingertips between CTRL and Z. The message reappears and you read it again and again and again. It feels like this is the moment. This is the big decision you make; is your life always going to be like this or are you going to try?

You hit reply.

‘Thank you, Professor Smith. I will meet you on Tuesday. I appreciate your understanding and I will do better.’

Your eyes blur as you move the cursor over the little arrow. You take a breath and tap your fingertips. That’s that, then.

[kicxvu]

NOT ALLOWED ! izumi miyamura x reader

summary : bumping into the boyfriend of a really really jealous girlfriend would make your life hell

warnings :

word count : 2k

a/n : first fanfic of my bby ! luv him, and sorry it’s quite hate on Hori… if you don’t like it leave kindly pls !!

-> pt1 -> pt2

Life had always been a quiet affair for you. Each day blended into the next, a monochrome tapestry of routine and solitude. School was no exception - a place where you existed more as a shadow than a person, drifting through hallways and classrooms with barely a ripple in your wake.

It wasn't that you disliked people. No, it was more that you had grown accustomed to the gentle hum of loneliness, finding comfort in the predictability of your own company, at least you were forced to enjoy your own company. Your classmates' names and faces blurred together, a sea of unfamiliar familiarity that you navigated with practiced indifference.

This particular morning started like any other. You rose with the sun, mechanically prepared for school, and set off on your usual route. The spring air was crisp, carrying the scent of cherry blossoms that lined the street. As you walked, your mind wandered, lost in the labyrinth of your thoughts.

You barely registered the school gates as you passed through them, your feet carrying you on autopilot. The chatter of other students washed over you, a meaningless backdrop to your internal musings. You were contemplating the English assignment due next week, mentally cataloging the books you'd need to reference, when it happened.

One moment you were lost in thought, the next you felt the solid impact of colliding with another person. The shock jolted you back to reality, your eyes widening as you stumbled backward.

"Oh!" A male voice exclaimed, surprise evident in his tone.

As you regained your balance, you finally focused on the person you'd walked into. It was a boy, probably around your age, with dark hair that fell softly around his face. His blue eyes were wide with surprise, one hand half-raised as if he'd been about to steady you. There was something vaguely familiar about him, like a face you'd seen in passing a hundred times but never truly looked at.

Next to him stood a girl with long, light brown hair and an expression that rapidly shifted from surprise to anger. You had a fleeting thought that you might have seen her before too, but your notoriously unreliable memory provided no name or context.

You opened your mouth, an apology forming on your lips, when the girl's voice cut through the air like a knife.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, her eyes flashing. "Don't you dare touch my boyfriend!"

The words hit you like a physical force, leaving you reeling. Confusion clouded your mind as you tried to process what was happening. Boyfriend? You hadn't meant to touch anyone. It was an accident. Why was she so angry?

Your face, usually a mask of calm indifference, betrayed your bewilderment. You blinked rapidly, mouth slightly agape as you struggled to form a response.

The boy - apparently her boyfriend - turned to the girl, his expression a mix of embarrassment and irritation. "Hori, it was just an accident," he said, his voice low but firm. "There's no need to-"

But the girl - Hori - wasn't listening. She took a step forward, her hands balled into fists at her sides. "Are you even listening? I said, stay away from him!"

You flinched at the volume of her voice, acutely aware of the curious stares of other students beginning to gather around you. Your heart raced in your chest, a caged bird beating against your ribs. This was exactly the kind of attention you always strived to avoid.

Summoning your courage, you tried to speak, to explain, to diffuse the situation somehow. But before you could utter a word, you felt hands on your shoulders, pushing you backward with surprising force.

You stumbled, nearly losing your footing. The shock of the physical contact left you breathless, your mind reeling. In all your years of fading into the background, you'd never experienced anything like this.

The boy - Hori's boyfriend - looked positively mortified now. His face had gone pale, and he reached out towards Hori, clearly trying to calm her down. "Hori, stop it! You're overreacting. It was just an accident, okay?"

But his words seemed to fall on deaf ears. Hori stood there, glaring at you with an intensity that made you want to sink into the ground and disappear.

You stood frozen, your body tense, your mind a whirlwind of confusion and fear. You weren't used to dealing with such strong emotions - especially not from others. Your own feelings were usually kept carefully in check, hidden behind a facade of quiet reservation. But now, in the face of this unexpected confrontation, you felt your carefully constructed walls beginning to crumble.

Your eyes darted between Hori, her boyfriend, and the growing crowd of onlookers. The urge to run, to escape this bewildering situation, was almost overwhelming. But something kept you rooted to the spot - perhaps the lingering shock, or some deep-seated instinct telling you that running would only make things worse.

As the tension hung in the air, Miyamura's mind was in turmoil. The sight of you, standing there looking lost and confused, triggered a flood of memories from his own past. He saw himself in you - the quiet, reserved child he once was, the target of bullies, the one who faded into the background to avoid attention.

His eyes traced your hunched posture, the way you clutched your bag like a shield, the barely concealed fear in your eyes. It was like looking into a mirror of his younger self, and the realization hit him like a physical blow.

Hori's angry words faded into the background as Miyamura's thoughts raced. He remembered the loneliness of his childhood, the sting of cruel words, the bruises from physical bullying. He thought of the piercings hidden beneath his uniform, each one a testament to his journey of self-discovery and resilience.

In that moment, Miyamura felt a deep, visceral horror at Hori's behavior. The girl he cared for, usually so kind and understanding, was acting like the very bullies that had made his life miserable. He wanted to reach out to you, to offer some word of comfort or understanding, but found himself frozen, caught between his past and present.

Your quiet, almost emotionless apology snapped Miyamura back to reality. He watched, a lump forming in his throat, as you quickly walked away from Hori's accusing gaze. Your retreating figure seemed to blur with the image of his younger self, walking away from yet another confrontation, another day of feeling invisible and misunderstood.

As you disappeared around the corner, Miyamura felt a surge of empathy and regret. He should have done more, said more. He knew all too well the pain of being singled out, of being the focus of unwanted attention.

"Hori," he said softly, turning to his girlfriend. "That wasn't right. She didn't do anything wrong."

Hori, still bristling with indignation, opened her mouth to argue, but something in Miyamura's expression made her pause. She'd rarely seen him look so serious, so… hurt.

"Let's just go to class," Miyamura said, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. As they walked, he couldn't shake the image of you from his mind. He wondered about your story, about the experiences that had shaped you into the quiet, reserved person he'd glimpsed in that brief encounter.

The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly before them as they made their way to class. Miyamura's steps felt heavy, weighed down by memories and regret. He could hear snippets of conversation from other students, whispers about the scene that had just unfolded. It made him feel sick.

As they approached the classroom, Miyamura caught sight of you again. You were just ahead of them, your shoulders hunched, your pace quick as if trying to escape. He wanted to call out to you, to apologize, to offer some word of comfort. But the words stuck in his throat.

Entering the classroom behind you, Miyamura felt a sense of dread. This was your safe space, he realized, the place where you could blend into the background and avoid attention. And now, because of what had happened, all eyes would be on you.

He watched as you made your way to your seat, your movements stiff and uncomfortable under the curious stares of your classmates. Miyamura felt a pang in his chest, remembering countless similar moments from his own past.

As he sat down at his desk, Miyamura couldn't help but think that this day, which had started so ordinarily, had become a turning point. For you, for him, for his relationship with Hori. He glanced back at you, noting the way you seemed to be trying to make yourself as small as possible in your seat.

In that moment, Miyamura made a silent promise to himself. He would find a way to make this right. He would show you that not everyone was like the bullies from his past, that there were people who could see beyond the quiet exterior to the person within.

As the teacher entered and class began, Miyamura's mind was far from the lesson. Instead, he was lost in thoughts of past and present, of hidden scars and silent struggles, and of the unexpected connection he now felt with the quiet girl who sat behind him.

As the lunch bell rang, the classroom erupted into a flurry of activity. Students rose from their seats, chattering excitedly about their plans for the break. You remained seated, watching as Hori practically dragged Miyamura and her friends out of the room, her voice carrying back to you.

"Come on, let's go to the roof! I'm starving!" Hori exclaimed, her earlier anger seemingly forgotten.

"Hori, slow down," Miyamura's softer voice replied, a note of concern evident.

Their voices faded as they disappeared down the hallway, leaving you alone in the now-quiet classroom. The silence enveloped you like a familiar, if unwelcome, friend.

You reached into your bag, pulling out the bento box your mother had carefully prepared that morning. Setting it on your desk, you stared at it, feeling a lump form in your throat.

This was your life, distilled into a single moment. Alone, always alone, even in a room full of people. The realization hit you anew, as fresh and painful as if it were the first time you'd acknowledged it.

You felt a hot tear slide down your cheek and let out a quiet, bitter chuckle. "Pathetic," you whispered to yourself, the word hanging in the air like a judgment.

Your mind began to spiral, thoughts tumbling over each other in a familiar, depressing cascade.

'What's wrong with me?' you wondered, your inner voice tinged with self-loathing. 'Why can't I be like them? Why can't I laugh and chat and make friends so easily?'

You thought about Hori and her group, imagining them on the roof now, sharing food and jokes, creating memories you'd never be part of. The loneliness felt like a physical ache in your chest.

'I'm invisible,' you thought, your fingers tracing patterns on the desk. 'No, worse than invisible. When people do notice me, it's only to yell or push me away.'

The memory of the morning's confrontation flashed through your mind, bringing a fresh wave of shame and hurt.

'I don't belong here. I don't belong anywhere. What chance do I have at friendship, at love, at any kind of normal life?'

Your thoughts turned to Miyamura. For a brief moment, you'd thought you'd seen understanding in his eyes. But that was probably just your imagination, wasn't it? Why would someone like him ever notice someone like you?

You wiped your tears away roughly with the back of your hand, angry at yourself for crying, for feeling, for caring.

Looking down at your unopened bento, you felt a wave of nausea. The thought of eating made your stomach churn. You pushed the box away slightly, your appetite completely gone.

The classroom remained silent, the only sound your own shaky breathing as you tried to compose yourself. You stared out the window, watching clouds drift by in a sky that seemed impossibly blue and cheerful, a stark contrast to the gray world you felt trapped in.

As you sat there, alone with your thoughts and untouched lunch, you couldn't help but wonder if things would ever change, if you'd ever find a place where you truly belonged. The answer, as always, seemed depressingly clear.

well, you may not like it but you better learn how ‘cause it’s your turn now

Ⓡ kicxvu all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !

[not-sleepys-blog]

I need another step dad! Gojo where he steals your panties and masturbates with them.

Read the previous step dad! Gojo here

WC: 584

A/N: this was one of my ideas when I’d first started posting but I didn’t know who. I have it written down as “pervy step dad stealing panties” 💀 pretty sure one of my friends didn’t like the idea

MINORS DNI

Just a bad habit. He told himself as he opened your bedroom door, walking to the dresser and opening your underwear drawer. He found himself sneaking into your room when you were away so he could satisfy his urges with the closest thing to your pussy. He could already feel his cock hardening in his sweats as he looked for that specific pair of blue lace panties that drove him crazy when you would prance around in your skirts that covered just enough or the oversized shirt you’d wear to bed.

He’d sit on the sofa and watch you move around in the kitchen, watching as you reached up to grab something, giving him a glimpse of your round ass, it took everything in him to keep him from walking over to you and bending you over the counter, grabbing your hips and pulling you back against him. He ground his hard cock against your ass, letting you feel how much he wanted you, his hands moving to your breasts, kneading them roughly. He feels his cock twitching at the mere thought of sinking into your tight cunt, shit, he was getting to caught up in his own fantasies. He starts to stroke himself through his sweats, his eyes flutter shut as he cursed under his breath. His hand moves faster, his breathing heavier, as he thinks about your body, your scent, and how good you'd feel wrapped around his cock. He finally finds that specific pair of panties, his fingers already hooking around the waistband of his sweatpants and tugging them down, his cock springing free. He starts to stroke himself, his movements slow and deliberate, he wraps your panties around his shaft, letting out a low groan. His mind flashing to memories of you. How pretty you look on your knees, taking his cock in your mouth, how your eyes roll back when he hits that perfect spot. Fuck he wishes you were here right now. Gojo grits his teeth, struggling to hold back his orgasm. His cock twitches, the tip glistening with precum as he forces himself to slow his pace causing his hips to jerk into his fist and the crumpled cloth around his cock wishing it was your mouth or better yet, your tight pussy. He thinks back to when he fucked you in the bathroom at a dinner party. How he lifted you up onto the counter, spreading your legs wide, you were already dripping for him. Such a needy thing. He positioned himself at your entrance, his cock throbbing against your wetness, burying his cock inside you with a swift thrust. He could almost feel how you squeezed around him, the way you moaned behind his fingers after he shoved them in your mouth to keep you from moaning too loud. His breathing becomes more labored, his body shaking and his muscles straining. his grip on his cock tightening again, his strokes becoming more aggressive. He's close, so unbelievably close. His body tensed as he lets go, his cock pulsing inside your panties. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over him as he comes, his seed filling your panties. He groans, his head falling back, his body shuddering as he rides out the orgasm. He removes your panties from his cock, his cock still semi-hard as he puts his cock back into sweatpants. He looks at the cum covered panties in his hands as he closer your drawer and left your room to go hide the evidence

[soft-girl-musings]

Cry (MK Spring Bingo #1)

Marc Spector x Reader

cross-posted to ao3

tags: panic/anxiety attacks, possibly inaccurate description of an emergency room visit (i don't remember the exact process i borrowed from my own experience bc i was sick… in the ER…), no use of y/n

wc: 1,356

fic summary: Three times Marc told you it was okay to cry, and one time you returned the favor.

A/N: Finally got around to writing something for someone besides jake lockley, bless. once again this is self-indulgent, but if anything hits home for you i'm glad <3 (based on Adam Melchor's "Cry" , which is the most marc-coded piece of music i've ever heard. in this essay i will)

_____________________

The first time came out of nowhere.

Nothing was wrong per se; no major injury or crisis had come up. All you knew was that you were frozen in the corner of your room, hot tears streaming down your face as your mind raced between a million different things.

“Sweetheart, have you seen my–” Marc’s request stopped the moment he saw you frozen in the darkened room, gripping the sleeves of your shirt as you bit your lip so hard you risked giving yourself another reason to cry.

“I just need a minute,” your voice came out trembling and heavy, as if too many syllables would cause the tears to fall with greater force. Not that you knew how to stop them, or how they even started.

Quick strides across the room brought Marc to your side. His warm hands wrapped around yours, cold and losing color from digging into your arms. 

Words were never his strong suit; Marc’s a man of few, usually letting his presence and actions suffice. So when faced with consoling you against some invisible threat, he could almost hear the sound of his own heart breaking in tandem with your staggered breath.

So he stood there. Until your fingers relaxed and entwined with his, he stood there until he could guide you to the floor. Arms wrapped around your shoulders, he cradled you as you continued to cry.

“This is so stupid,” you groaned as you wiped your face with your sleeve. “So fucking… ugh.”

“Hey,” he shushed you. “Not stupid. You’re feeling what you’re feeling.”

“But I don’t know why,” you choked out. It was hard enough being so distraught; not having a valid reason for it made everything hurt more.

“You don't have to justify it. Don't have to do anything but just… be here.” A hand to your temple eased your head against his chest. “I'm here, as long as you need me to be.”

This was all the permission you needed to let another rush of tears spill down your cheeks, soaking his shirt. He didn't mind.

___________________

The second time was in the emergency room.

You'd never struggled to catch your breath like this before; a common cold turned south and triggered long-dormant childhood asthma, making your lungs betray the rest of your body. Marc drove you to the ER when your hollow coughing didn't let up for the third day in a row. Head spinning and chest aflame, you were rushed to the back as soon as Marc told them you couldn't breathe.

“You've got to breathe steady, honey.”

“I'm trying,” you muttered around the medicated tube in your mouth. It had to be almost 3 in the morning; your body ached like crazy and you didn't catch a word of what the nurse told you to do with your medication. All you knew was that you were cold, exhausted, and grateful to have Marc there to time your breathing.

But even with his hand holding yours, you still felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Every inhalation brought medicine to your airways, but the ragged sensation resonated through your chest and made your body ache more.

“I'm so tired,” you finally said around the device. With that, your tears fell faster than you could swipe at them. Your frown pushed the device from your mouth, but you didn't care.

Marc sprang up, catching the equipment when your grip faltered. He said nothing; instead, he climbed onto the bed with you, leaning your back against his chest and taking your hand in his once more, bringing the medication back to your lips. You let him bear your weight, immediate relief washing over you as he took over keeping the device steady with one hand and gently dabbing a tissue at your cheek with the other. 

“Nothing wrong with a few tears, honey. Means you’re alive.”

When you finally went home, the fire in your lungs extinguished, he held you again until you fell asleep.

_____________________

“.....The movie just started.”

(The third time was on the living room couch.)

You had finally talked Marc into watching La La Land with you (with the promise of his getting to choose the next movie night film, of course). You were barely 30 seconds into the opening number when you'd started crying, eyes glued to the screen as dozens of up-and-comers danced and sang about their dreams to make it in the industry.

“They haven't said anything.”

“They're saying everything.”

“He's dancing on a car.”

“Because he's excited!”

“Why did they stop traffic to dance?”

You didn't hear the rest of his quips, too engrossed in the scene. The colors, the music, and the highly impractical interstate  choreography had a way of getting to you ever since you first saw this movie. Meanwhile, Marc sat with his arms crossed and eyebrows knit together as he tried to follow along.

When you noticed his body language, you reached for the remote and paused the movie. “Do you… want to watch something else?”

Marc's face fell when he realized this new batch of tears wasn’t because of the movie, but because of him. The thought of making your cry hit like a punch to the gut.

He took the remote from you, moving closer to your side. “Nice try, but you're not getting out of it that easily. I need your commentary if I'm gonna keep up.” He hit play and choked down every criticism as he saw your face light up, tears of joy brimming during the remaining 2 hours of the film.

The next morning, while making breakfast, you could have sworn you heard Marc humming Another Day of Sun under his breath.

_____________________

As you'd grown closer, you began to know Marc as your rock, your steady landing place when you had thoughts and feelings too big to deal with on your own. He never had to say much to be there for you. He kept you tethered and together, happy to be of service no matter how ugly your hardships felt. 

It was only a matter of time before you saw a crack in his foundation.

You got home late one night, a thunderstorm hot on your heels. You had shrugged off your coat and shoes, calling out to Marc to see if he was home. No response.

You checked each room diligently, until you found him sitting on the corner of the bed.

“Marc?” You asked softly, walking toward him. You knelt in front of him, and the sight of his face twisted into an unfamiliar expression, a steady stream of tears spilling from his reddened eyes, was more than you could bear.

The first time came out of nowhere.

“Can you give me your hands, Marc?” He complied, his breath short and his eyes fixed on the storm pelting the window with sheet after sheet of rain. His vision darted between drops of water and streaks of lightning. The room shook with the echoes of thunder as the worst of the storm hit.

“Hey,” you urged him. “Just be here. With me.” Your thumb traced his wrist as you tried to stay calm.  “Can you breathe with me, Marc?” You sat up on your knees. He nodded, slowly but surely matching the pace of your breath. 

You didn't know what was on his mind, only that it was racing. You couldn't tell what had him so worked up, only that his breath escaped him even as you counted to ten again, and again, unrelenting in your focus on him. You had no idea what made your rock, your anchor, cry like this.

Maybe he'd tell you later; maybe it'd remain a mystery. None of that mattered in the moment. All that mattered was the rhythm of your breath as the rain let up; the way his tears drenched your sleeves when you dabbed at his flushed cheeks; the steady thrum of his heart as his body relaxed beside yours. All that mattered was how, with your chest pressed to his back as you lay on top of the bedspread, he let you hold him for a change.

_____________________

event tags: @moonknight-events @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight

addtl tags: @mrs-lockley @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added/taken off this wee tag list)

[madyoghurt]

hello! Could you make a hobie brownxfemvirginreader? That it’s her first time and she is kinda scared but hobie tries to calm her? If it’s a okay to you!^^

First ask YIPPIEEE!! and yes i can ♥︎

Heads up! Hobie calls reader Doll, Sweetheart and Baby. Reader calls Hobie 'Bee' once or twice. Use of the pull out method (actual protection is adviced)

You're not sure how you ended up in this.. situation. It was supposed to be a casual sleepover with your boyfriend, yet it feels like anything but casual when hes caressing your face like this, kissing you slowly, his tongue cautious yet seeking entrance.

The tickle of his cool lip ring against your warm skin and his hand sliding down makes you gasp, Hobie takes it as an opportunity to glide his tongue against yours, making you let out the quietest whine. And the warmth pooling between your thighs cant be ignored anymore.. you shuffle uncomfortably, signaling Hobie to check on you.

"Y'alright?" He murmurs against your mouth, his hand ghosting over your torso, right underneath your breast. "Yeah.. yeah, its just.. alot." You admit, sure you've kissed other people before, but it was never really more than that. with Hobie it feels different, hes so patient and kind, pouring love and care into each movement. He looks you over, reading you like a book, he always does. "You new to this stuff then?" He asks, the bluntness making you shoot up, searching his features for any boredom or even disgust, but all you find is gentle curiosity.

"Yes." You nod, looking down to avoid his gaze, but ofcourse you can still fucking feel it, feel him.

"We can stop if you wanna..-" he starts but you shake your head. "No, i want it.. I want you." You admit, fidgeting with a seam on his well-worn t-shirt. "Im just nervous, i guess..?"

"Okay," hobie climbs over, now hovering above you, he saids "we'll take it slow, yeah?" He kisses you, once, twice. "I'll take care of you." He affirms you with his hand back on your cheek, his thumb caressing back and forth. "Nice an' proper, yeah?" He kisses you again, and you return it with fervour, a silent agreement.

Minutes pass like seconds and suddenly you're laying back, with Hobie between your legs, kissing and nipping at the plush of your thighs while rubbing your pussy through your underwear, slow, slow circles around your clit, making you tense every time he rubs it just right. His free hand is wrapped around your left thigh, fingertips ghosting up and down it, sending a wave of goosebumps through you.

"'Bee.." you pant, looking down at him with need. He meets your gaze with his own teasing one, not once stopping the movement over your clothed clit, making you struggle to find the words. "Please,.. quit fucking around." You giggle pathetically, making Hobie chuckle.

"Can't help myself, doll.." he shrugs. "You're so" kiss  "kissable." Kiss

You let out a breathy giggle, sinking into the cushions with a faint smile. And thats when Hobie decides hes done "fucking around". He sits up and pulls down your underwear, the cool air hitting your wetness makes you shiver and close your legs. Hobie coaxes them open againwith his soft palms. you look down at what hes doing, and thats when you see it.. his cock straining against his jeans, rock hard, begging for attention, all that for little ol' you?

Hobies tongue swipes over his lips as he leans back and palms himself, staring into you eyes while doing so, seeing the mezmerized look in them as the feast upon the sight makes his head fall back with a defeated groan. You feel yourself clench as it plays out. Hobie begins undoing his belt, making quick work of the button and zipper, he pulls his pants down along with his briefs.

You gasp quietly as his cock springs up and hits his stomach, it swaying slightly as he takes his pants all the way off. He climbs on top of you, grabbing his dick and sliding the dark pink head between your wet folds, he looks up at you. "You're okay with this still, yeah?" You nod. "Yeah." He kisses your forehead, "'kay." He mumbles as he slowly pushes inside, filling you up inch by inch.

"Ohh.. fuck." You breathe, the words coming out in a whisper. Hes not even all the way in when his tip nudges your cervix. He pulls out halfway only to thrust back inside, making you both gasp. You hold onto him as he experiments with his pace, watching which ways your face contorts when he does this and that. Making you grab at his back and torso desparately. "Takin' it so well, doll." He purrs. "You feel good?" He asks, caressing your thigh, gently draging his fingers over the marks he left there before quickening his pace with a snap of his hips. "Mhm!.. shit!" Your eyes squeeze shut as Hobies thrusts quicken, your eyebrows pulling together like a pleading puppies.

He grabs your hands, holding them by either side of your head as he comes closer, your noses nudge as you pant against eachothers mouths. He kisses you sloppily, dragging his tongue against yours. You muster up some courage and begin to suck on his slippery muscle, ripping a guttural groan out of him, he squeezes your hands as he slams into your g-spot, making you let go of his tongue with a loud moan. "Shit, baby.. you're doin' so good, so good f'me." He grunts, scooting his knees a bit closer to you so he'll hit your g-spot with each thrust. This new angle has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Your throats getting dry from all the heavy panting. You let out another broken moan, already feeling yourself getting close. "Hobie!!" You shriek as your legs stretch and tense in desparation. "I know, sweetheart.. shit- me too.." he grunts, letting go of one of your hands, he leans back and spits, letting his saliva dribble all the was down onto your cunt. He starts rubbing circles on your clit with his right thumb again, that combined with him slamming into your g-spot over and over being what eventually has you skyrocketing towards climax, you begin pulsating around him, grabbing onto his arm for support and squeezing his other hand in yours. "H-Hobie, m'so close! M'so fucking close!" You slur your words, digging your nails into his bicep. "Yeah? Cum on my cock, Baby." Hobie whines as you tighten around him, choking his dick.

Your legs shake as your orgasm takes over full force, you let out wheezy moans and broken whimpers and all you see is white for a solid 15 seconds.

Hobies thrusts lose their rythmn as he comes closer and closer to release, his hips stuttering as he tries VERY hard not to cum, wanting to let you ride out your orgasm before he pulls out. His movement on your clit slows and eventually stops as you start getting overstimulated. He pulls out gently before jacking himself off frantically over your stomach, cumming with a low groan.

He bucks into his hand, thick spurts of white cum hitting your warm skin. His head falls back as he comes down from his high, still panting heavily.

He crouches back down and pets your hair. "Y'alright?" He mumbles before kissing your cheek. "Yeah.. thank you, 'Bee." You hum, a stupid grin on your face as he keeps kissing you all over, whispering praises in your ear.

Being my first writing (this long, anyway) i hope this was alright :')

[viviseawrites]

eddie munson knows he’s an anomaly. he has the kind of star power and attitude and talent that takes people far from where they start. unfortunately, his teachers don’t agree; nor does his presentation.

because eddie munson presents as a male omega in a small, backward town in the midwest, and that makes him a freak, makes him something to be sneered at instead of revered, insulted instead of praised.

he takes it in stride, though, because fuck that. he knows he’s gonna get out of here and make it anyway. so eddie munson does what he does best: he weaves a story for himself, around himself.

he imagines the struggles of high school and bigotry as enemies in his righteous quest for glory and vengeance. but at no point does he foresee his story veering into a romance. it’s never been in the cards for him.

because eddie is gay. he likes men; he doesn’t care about designations. but there aren’t any other male omegas in hawkins. and male alphas, at least here, are rude and crass and vaguely threatening.

they don’t like that eddie doesn’t behave the way he should, according to their conservative upbringings. so they talk shit and pick on him and sometimes get physically aggressive. so no alphas either.

and no one ever talks about betas. betas, who are caretakers and workers. who represent normalcy and stability. even eddie thinks that’s boring, and no beta has ever proved him wrong.

granted, it’s not like he talks to many to challenge that idea for himself. mostly he forgets about them. but that changes during spring break. eddie’s story changes. he’s still gonna do big things, only now he wonders if he can do it all in love.

he watches steve harrington face the Upside Down with bat blood in his mouth and bite marks up his sides and he wants. steve is a beta. steve is the most badass person eddie has maybe ever met.

and that latent crush from his second senior year rears its head with a roar because—and this is the trippy part—steve meets him gaze for gaze, step for step. steve calms him, humors him, acts normal. he keeps eddie sane.

eddie should hate it, did hate it for years. but he knows better now, because steve harrington is a steady, normal, boring beta, and eddie is falling in love with his quiet strength and focus. he’s anything but forgettable.

and after vecna. oh, after vecna, stability is all eddie wants. and he’s lucky, because steve is always there. taking his weight when eddie forgets his cane, challenging andy when the basketball team gets ideas, watching the kids.

eddie can’t help it. his heat hits because the bats ate his fucking suppressant implant out of his guts, the bastards, and steve offers to help him through that too. eddie says yes before he’s too far gone. and things change again.

his heat ends and steve just stays. and maybe eddie won’t let him go far, begs him for just a little while longer, but steve just grins and curls back into him, around him.

eddie thinks, sleepily, about how they fit together so perfectly, an anomaly and the ordinary boy who loves him. it turns out normal with steve is better than anything else.

[pedritomosquito]

All Choked Up (Ch 2)

MINORS DNI

Summary: After your post-rehearsal hook-up, how will shoot day with Pedro go?

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Actress!Reader

Word count: 5.7k

Content: SMUT, Minors DNI Blog, choking, fingering, oral (f receiving), protected P in V, Daddy kink, enthusiastic consent, Pedro is a consent king, soft dom, praise, degradation

Chapter 1 Here

“Action!”

You dart forward, knife raised as Pedro advances toward you. His large hands grip your forearms and you try to tear your way out of his grasp. He twists your wrist just enough for the knife to fall from your hand. His fist flies toward your face and you throw your head to the side to sell the punch. You allow him to easily push you the two steps back until you feel your back hit the wall. 

He’s stepped right up into your space, your bodies nearly pressed together, both of his hands around your throat. You can feel him panting on your cheek, eyes locked on yours. You put all your efforts into struggling against him. You claw at his hands with the pads of your fingers so you don’t scratch him and writhe in his grasp. The feral glint in his eyes is only growing the more you fight and you know it’s Joel, not Pedro, but your mind is absolutely running away with the primal display.

Once you lose consciousness, Pedro lets go and you drop as heavily as you can to the floor. He walks out the door which leads to dead space between set walls, out of view. 

“Cut!”

You open your eyes and Pedro reappears above you with his usual soft expression. He helps you back to your feet and can’t seem to stop himself from reaching out and fixing one of your rogue hairs this time.

“Thank you,” You smile and he shoots back a wry one of his own.

“Okay,” Craig says, a bit slowly, like he’s interrupting something, “That was… great, but I need you to act like you hate each other this time.”

Oops. Guess you were having a bit too much fun.

“Let’s reset,” He directs, then looks at you and Pedro and reminds you both, “You want to kill each other.”

You and Pedro are both nodding. Pedro looks a little embarrassed, which you find some glory in. 

Jess starts straightening you back out for the next take. She has a shadow of a smirk on her face.

“What?” You question her.

“I didn’t say anything,” Jess maintains her innocence.

“Jess.”

“Y’all just look like you’re having fun out there, that’s all,” She shrugs with a knowing tone.

“Alright, let’s go again!” Craig called. 

You shoot another take and after calling cut, Craig waves you and Pedro over to the monitor. 

“Come see what we’re seeing,” he says. 

They play back the take as you and Pedro watch. The sequence does seem a bit… heated, in more ways than one. 

“Pedro, I need you further back from the wall for the choking—and your faces are too close. It’s not creating the right kind of tension,” Craig instructed. 

Exactly what kind of tension it is creating goes unmentioned. 

“And I need more fear from you,” Craig tells you. “Your character is fierce and brave, but towards the end you’re realizing you’re about to die. I need that terror. Sound good?”

You and Pedro are both nodding like bobble heads, desperate to try again and undo the impression you’ve given everyone. You’re both people pleasers, for better or worse. 

The next take finally reads like a murder instead of a porno, but it’s turning you on without fail. You have to do two more takes after that before Craig deems them ready to move on to the next angle.

“Just a minute to set up the next camera angle, please,” Craig says. 

You’ve soaked your underwear to the point of discomfort. In a fit of equal parts pettiness and arousal, a downright evil idea springs to life in your mind. 

You walk the few steps over to Pedro, casually pulling him through the set’s fake doorway. The space it leads to is hardly bigger than a closet but it’s out of sight of the crew. He looks at you curiously and is about to say something when you stop him, crowding him against the wall.

“You,” You say, hand slipping under your waistband to dip two fingers into yourself, “Made a mess.” 

You withdraw your hand and bring it up to his lips. 

“Clean it up,” you whisper. 

His mouth parts silently and you slide your fingers in. His tongue drags along them, sucking them clean. 

As quickly as you’d pulled him aside, you exit back onto the main set, leaving him behind without another word. You make your way over to Jess who starts fixing your hair.

It’s a long moment before you see Pedro emerging from the doorway from the corner of your eye.

“You good, Pedro?” Craig asks with a touch of concern.

Everyone within earshot turns to look at him, including you. His face is a little flushed and his eyes look wild. He schools his expression, even though the blush is continuing to spread down his neck.

“Yep!” He says with an easy grin.

You walk past him to your starting mark, twirling the knife in your hand.

“Someone needs to work on their acting,” You tease quietly with a smug smile, “Can see it all over your face, querido.”

--------

“Alright, that’s a wrap for today,” Craig called, “We have cupcakes here for Tina’s birthday, don’t forget to grab one on your way out!”

Cupcakes? Hell yeah, thank you Tina!

After you change back into your clothes, you find a small group crowded around a table with the birthday treats. You shuffle through and pick up a vanilla cupcake. You see Pedro across the small room and you catch his eye. 

You decide you’re not done playing games with him today.

You take your finger and swipe it through the soft, white frosting. You stare at him as you lick at the sweet icing before sliding your entire finger into your mouth. 

The intense look in Pedro’s eyes sparks a fire of anticipation as he swiftly makes his way over to you. He stands a little close, seeming to tower over you. You look up at him innocently. 

“Need a ride home?” You ask. 

“Yes, I do,” he answers through gritted teeth. 

You sit in silence as you drive down the dark road. You sneak glances at him, catching his profile in sliding strips of streetlights. You can feel his eyes on you too. He shifts in his seat and you can tell he’s trying to subtly adjust his pants. 

You pull into his driveway and throw your car into park. 

You look over at him and he simply leans over the center console, pulling your keys out of the ignition. 

“Come inside.”

Your breathing is shallow. You just nod and climb out of your car, following him up the front steps.  

As soon as the door is closed behind you, he has your back pressed up against it, one hand on your throat, another on your waist, and a knee pressed between your legs. 

“Do you understand what you’ve gotten yourself into?” He asks, lips nearly against your cheek, “Do you know what’s going to happen now that you made me want you so fucking bad?”

You shake your head minutely, holding your breath. 

“I’m going to make you fall apart with my mouth,” He explains slowly, “And then on my fingers. And then I’m going to fuck you good and deep.”

He’s nodding as he speaks and you mirror him mindlessly, clutching onto his shirt. 

“How does that sound, querida?” He asks. You nod more emphatically but he interrupts and says, “Need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“S-sounds good,” you manage to whisper. 

He lets out a soft laugh and a genuine grin tugs on his lips. His touch lightens. “You really are just a sweet little thing, aren’t you?

“All bark and no bite,” You confess quietly with a sheepish grin. 

“You like it when I’m rough with you?” He asks sincerely. 

“God yes,” you answer instantly. 

He chuckles again, the darkness flowing back into his eyes. His hand from your waist travels down and palms over the crotch of your pants. 

“The safe word is cupcake, okay?” He whispers in your ear, a precious secret just for you and him. 

“Okay,” you nod, your eyes falling shut. 

“Try it,” he directs you softly. 

“C-Cupcake,” you repeat it hesitantly. 

The weight of his body against yours disappears and his hands withdraw. You open your eyes to see him standing in front of you. 

“Good girl,” he praises softly. He then snatches up your wrist and tugs you into him. “Fuck I can’t wait to see you cum again,” he says before his lips lock onto yours. 

He’s soon dragging you down a hallway and into his bedroom. You pull off your pants and he does the same. He starts undoing his shirt but you take over, making him sit on the edge of the bed. You straddle him as you undo the buttons.  

“Missed being in your lap,” you sigh, hands working down his shirt. He hums in agreement as you push the fabric off his shoulders and his mouth finds yours. His hands find the hem of your top. He pushes it up your stomach. You take hold of it and break the kiss to pull it off. You reach back and unclasp your bra, letting it slide down your arms. 

He drags a hand down your chest, too tempted by the expanse of soft skin not to touch it. You roll forward and both of you let out contented noises at the sweet friction. He wraps an arm around your back to pull your bare chest flush against his, feeling his heartbeat against your own. 

You rake your fingers through his hair and he grabs your ass, pressing you down tight onto him. You’ve soaked through the thong you’re wearing and you’re already leaving a wet spot on Pedro’s briefs.  

He stands up with you still wrapped around him, turns around, and tosses you down onto the bed. 

He crawls up beside you, licking over one of your nipples on his way to your lips. His hand travels down between your legs. 

“God, are you always this wet?” He asks reverently, rubbing slow circles over underwear.

“Siempre estoy mojada pensando en ti,” You reply. I’m always wet thinking about you.

He groans deep in his throat and you feel him push his hard-on against the side of your hip. “Didn’t know you could speak Spanish, querida,” He says breathlessly.

“Sip,” You nod, squirming under his touch. Yep.

“You’re just full of goddamn surprises, aren’t you?” He teases, rolling his fingers tortuously slow.

“Pedro–please,” You say, trying to circle your hips.

“What?” He asks innocently, “You want me to slip my fingers underneath these and touch your wet pussy, play with it til you cum?”

The vulgar words coming from his sweet mouth sends a rush of heat over you. 

“Mhm,” You nod fiercely. 

He pulls his hand away instead and a wounded noise leaves your mouth. 

“I don’t think I will,” he says defiantly, “I think I need to taste you again.”

“Oh my god, yes,” You murmur. He moves down your body, placing himself between your legs. You watch as his teeth scrape over the skin of your left hip and capture the waistband of your underwear. He hooks a finger under the other side and drags the fabric down. You help him slide it all the way down and off. 

A broad hand settles on each of your thighs and he pushes your legs apart. You can feel his breath rolling over your wet cunt before his tongue glides over you, bottom to top, gathering up the taste of you. You gasp and sound rumbles deep in Pedro’s chest, vibrating against you. 

He covers all of you with his mouth, overwhelming you with heat. He runs the underside of his tongue over you and he feels so soft, like a ribbon of silk.

His tongue strokes and circles your clit. 

Your hands weave into his hair. 

“Fuck, yeah,” you breathe. 

He begins sucking gently, alternating with flicks of his tongue. The more he works you over, the faster your breathing becomes.   

He moves his tongue down, pressing it into your entrance. You grind into his face, your clit pressing to his nose.

“Fuck, fuck, you’re getting me so close,” you pant.  

He can feel the way you’re clenching around nothing, trying to grip his tongue. 

He pulls away and you whimper.  

“All fours. Elbows and knees.”

You comply instantly, rolling onto your stomach and dragging your knees up underneath you. You expect to feel his mouth or cock press against you, but instead you feel the mattress shift. Pedro lays on his back, his head underneath your hips between your legs. 

“Oh fuck,” You breathe, taking in his position.

He yanks your hips back and pulls your cunt down to his mouth. He starts by flicking his tongue over your clit, making you jump. His hands grip tighter, keeping you pressed to him. One of his thick fingers begins to circle your hole before dipping inside.

You push back against him, gliding your clit over his tongue and taking his finger deep inside you. 

“Oh fuck yes,” You moan. You’ve never done this before, not in this position, and it’s simply divine. You rock back again and are met with a second finger slipping inside you. “Fuck!” You tilt your hips to hit Pedro’s tongue just right. 

Pedro turns his head to the side, kissing your thigh. 

“That’s it, querida, use my mouth,” he says, “Fuck yourself on my fingers.”

“Holy shit Pedro,” You breathe as he returns his mouth to your clit, “feels s-so good.”

He just groans in agreement. He sucks your clit until you can’t keep still, pushing back into his fingers. He opens his mouth, allowing you to grind on his tongue. Your thrusts devolve from polite to needy.  

His fingers begin to press down harder, rubbing over a sensitive spot inside you. 

“Fuck, just like that!” You tell him. You start to lose control over the rhythm of your hips.  He stays steadfast in his movements, making the pressure inside you grow and twist. 

“Oh fuck, Pedro! Faster! You’re gonna make me cum!”

He hums against your clit, sending a vibrating jolt into the depths of your stomach. His fingers start hooking faster. 

You feel a new kind of pressure rushing into the base of your hips and realize what is about to happen. 

You wonder if you should tell him to stop, if you might die of embarrassment, but it doesn’t matter either way because your orgasm is bursting from you before you can act. 

“FUCK—” You cry with a choked off sound, squirting on Pedro’s face. 

You’d only ever accomplished this on your own twice and never at all with a partner. Dear god, you’re praying that he’s into this. Your hips jerk away from his mouth at the oversensitivity but he keeps up with his fingers. 

“Fuck, that’s a good girl,” he praises, “Soak my face.”

His words alone earn him another gasped “fuck” and more wetness on his cheeks. You look underneath yourself and find him with his mouth open, trying to drink in as much as he can get. You drop your head and cry out into the bedding. 

When you come back to your senses and unbury your face from the sheets, your thighs are trembling and Pedro is firmly kneading them in his grip with grounding strokes.

You lift up your knee to un-straddle him and clamor down the bed to be beside him. You take his face in your hands and get a good look at how his skin shines with your cum. Before he can speak, you bring your tongue to his jaw, licking away the wetness. 

“That’s it,” He says lowly, “My perfect little slut, cleaning up her mess.”

Your eyes become hooded at the new name as you continue to lap at his face. Pedro doesn’t miss it. 

“Aw, you like being called a slut, don’t you?” He smirks, “My sweet girl isn’t so innocent after all, huh?”

You groan and start pawing at the waistband of his briefs. He takes your hand in his and guides you to palm over his cock.  

“That what you want, querida?” He teases. 

You nuzzle your nose into his cheek and nod with a whimper. 

“Say it,” He demands. 

“I—I want your cock,” You reply. 

“And where do you want it?”

“Want it inside me,” You reply, groping him through his underwear, “Want you to cum while you fuck me.”

He sits up and slides off his boxers. He leans over and grabs a condom from the night table, tearing it open. He places it on the tip of his cock. 

“You’re going to put this on me with your mouth, okay?” He directs with a condescending tone that makes your brain whir. 

You nod, moving so you can place your mouth on him. You wrap a hand around the base of him and start working your lips down his shaft, unrolling the latex. Pedro’s hand winds itself into your hair as he groans. 

“Next time, you’re going to fuck me with that beautiful mouth of yours,” he decides in a strained voice, “But right now I have to have your pussy wrapped around me.”

“Mhm,” You agree with your lips wrapped around his dick. With the help of your fingers, you unravel the condom all the way down his thick cock. Pedro gives a tug on your hair, pulling you off of him and guiding you up the bed. He climbs on top of you and lays his body over yours. His left hand strokes over your throat as he speaks in your ear. 

“You had fun today, didn’t you? Teasing me at work,” he chides, mouthing at your neck, “You wanted me to know that you’re a dirty little slut, huh? So I’d know to treat you like one?”

You nod with a little whimper escaping. 

He rolls his hips and his hard length slides over your clit and back, notching at your hole. You try to push against him but he pins your hips with his own. 

“You know what I think you want more than anything?” He teases, “I think you want my hand around your throat while I fuck you.”

“God, Please, Pedro,” You nod, your hips attempting to buck up into his again. 

The fingers stroking over your throat stop and his hand spreads across the fragile skin.

His hardened facade falls away for a moment.“Tap twice if you want me to lighten up, three times for cupcake, okay?” He whispers. 

“Okay,” you whisper back. “I’ve—I’ve never done this before,” You admit, placing your hand over his. 

“I’ll be gentle,” He assures you softly, “And we can stop whenever you want. Does that sound okay?”

“Yes.”

“Two taps for looser, three taps for stop,” he reminds you. “Show me.”

You tap twice on his wrist and he nods in approval, then you tap three times. 

“Good girl,” he tells you quietly and your muscles tense up with a shiver. He captures your lips in a kiss, rolling his hips over yours. One of your hands moves to his hip and the other trails into his hair. 

The head of his cock keeps grinding over your clit as he moves. You try to pull on his hip to get more friction but he stops. 

“So needy,” he says, “be patient.”

You whine in protest, squirming under him. 

“Please,” you beg. 

“Please what?” Pedro asks, pressing a little on your throat. 

���Ohmygod, I need you inside me,” You reply, “Please!”

“Okay querida, I’ll give you what you need,” he allows. He reaches down and guides the tip into your hole. He pushes forward slowly, giving you the first couple of inches.

The way Pedro gasps and moans into your ear makes you dizzy. He’s barely even a third of the way in and you already feel stretched. You grip onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin like teeth. He pushes in farther and you try to keep still and take it. 

“Relax,” Pedro says quietly, the hand on your throat sliding off and resting on your collarbone, “Breathe.”

You open your eyes and exhale. 

“That’s it,” he says, waiting a moment before continuing, “I’m going to give you more, okay?”

You nod and he places kisses over your cheeks as he pushes forward. Your hands regrip, pawing at his shoulders absently, looking for something to ground you. He’s a lightning rod in your storm of adrenaline. 

“I’ve got you,” he says, “You can take it, querida. Doing so good for me.”

His praise loosens the aching stretch inside you. He eases in the rest of the way until you can feel the base of his stomach pressed to your clit. 

“Good girl,” His head drops to your shoulder as he groans. 

“S-So full, fuck,” you gasp. 

“You like being full of me, sweetheart?” His voice strains. 

You nod, reaching down to grab his ass cheek, keeping him close to you as you grind up against him. 

His breath hitches and you catch what nearly sounds like a whine. He pulls back and pushes into you experimentally, fed by your delicate sounds and breathing. 

“Goddamn, you feel so good,” he sighs heavily as he thrusts again, “Taking me so well.”

“Wanna be good for you,” You replies desperately.

“Oh yeah?” He asks menacingly. 

You feel his hand slipping back up to your throat. 

You nod. 

“After being such a bad little slut all day,” He says, “Now you wanna be good for me?” 

“Yes,” you squeak as he picks up a slow rhythm to his thrusts. 

“Okay sweet girl,” He replies, leaning down to feed you scorching, messy kisses as he fucks you. You wrap your legs around him, forcing his hips closer to yours. You move a hand to the one he has on your throat and grip onto his wrist, pushing it. 

He breaks his mouth from yours, easily clued in on what you want. 

“If I knew all I had to do to get you under me was put my hands on this pretty little neck, I woulda done it ages ago,” He says, “You look so pretty with your bullseye necklace.”

You imagine his view, the bullseye tattoo between his thumb and first finger framed perfectly in the center of your throat. The thought makes you moan. Your grip on his wrist becomes more insistent. 

“Okay,” he acquiesces to your silent plea. “Gonna start real gentle, okay?” He says softly, looking at you for permission. 

You marvel at the way he drops in and out of his dominant character, rough all over yet smooth around the edges. Knowing that you get both sides of him—all of him—is intoxicating. 

You give a small nod and he slows the rhythm of his thrusts, focusing in on his grip. 

It’s not exactly the sensation you expected when he begins to squeeze his hand. He’s pressing in on both sides of your throat and pulses the amount of pressure he applies. It amplifies the feeling of his cock sliding inside you and you catch just the echoes of a misty, heady feeling. You want more. 

He lets go and you moan at the loss. 

“That feel good?” He asks. It’s dirty talk as much as it is an honest question. 

“Yes,” You reply instantly, feeling the desperation setting in, “Yes.” Your hand returns to his wrist, already pleading for more. 

“Easy, querida,” He hushes, “I’m taking my time with you.” He gives you a particularly slow, deep thrust. 

“Oh god, love when you give it to me deep,” You admit breathlessly. 

His hand leaves your throat and hooks your thigh, pulling your knee up higher to give him more access. 

“You take it so well, sweetheart,” He praises, rewarding you with more. 

He reaches new depths in this position, fucking you in places you swear were previously untouched. You cry out and your hands scrabble for purchase in his hair to his back to his shoulders. 

“Fuck, please, please!” You beg. 

“Tell me what you want,” he says. 

You just whine in response, grabbing at his wrist. 

“Tell me,” he commands. 

“Choke me!” You finally manage to blurt out, “Please, I want you to choke me!” 

“There you go,” He smirks.

“H-Harder, please,” you quietly add. 

“So good, telling me what you need,” he replies, somewhere between sweet and wicked, “I’ve got you.”

His hand travels to your throat and he skims his fingertips over your skin before finding his grip, starting to press. As promised, it’s tighter than before. 

It’s perfect. 

The mist begins to blur everything but the feeling of Pedro fucking you, the sensation crystal clear and torrid. You would scream if you could. Instead, the pleasure stays locked inside you, building and swirling.  

You distantly hear Pedro moan and it makes your cunt flush with a new wave of wetness. 

He lets go of you and air rushes into your lungs. 

“Yes, Pedro!” You exhale. 

“Can tell you love it,” He replies with a strained voice, “Getting me all wet while your pussy grips me so fucking tight.”

Your inhibitions fall away with the way he reads your body like a book. There’s no hiding from him.

“Fuck me,” You plead. 

He’s happy to obey, picking up speed. It’s hard and fast, slamming your hips with a tightening, growing heat. You know that you’re whimpering out little yes’s and fuck’s but it’s dulled against the lightness in your head. 

“Already close again, querida?” That smirk returning to his lips, “You going to come on my cock?”

You let out a choked sob and can only nod in reply.

“Give it to me,” he says, fucking you impossibly harder. 

The heat filling you to the brim climbs higher than you can stand. 

“Da-Pedro!

Pedro immediately slows to a near stop and his eyes bore into yours. Your hand flies to your mouth.

“Oh,” He says dangerously low, amusement pulling at his lips and dancing in his eyes, “Now what do we have here?” 

“Sorry,” You barely whisper. Humiliation rushes to your cheeks. He rolls his hips hard and presses even deeper into you, making a messy whimper tumble from you.

“No, you’re not sorry,” he replies steadily, withdrawing back, “Go ahead. Say it.” 

His grip on your throat tightens as he buries his cock inside you.

“Daddy!”

“That’s my girl,” He nearly laughs, beginning to fuck you in a steady rhythm again, “Shoulda known. Such a good little slut, course you wanted Daddy to fuck you, didn’t you?”

You nod frantically.

“Deep breath, querida.”

You inhale and feel his hand squeeze tighter. Blood rushes in your ears and you watch him watch you. Four thrusts more and he releases you, leaving you gasping.

“There you go,” he says, “You love that, don’t you?”

“Yes Daddy,” You reply reflexively.

His hips stutter as he groans.

“Jesus Christ,” He breathes. 

He suddenly hooks his arms under yours, pulling you up to sit chest to chest. He wraps one arm around your back to keep you up and his free hand is at your throat again. 

“Oh fuck!” You helplessly cry as he fucks up into you, “Daddy!”

He tightens his grip on your throat and everything but Pedro leaves your head. There’s nothing but him, inside you, all around you. 

“Make a mess in my lap, baby,” He demands, nosing against your jaw, “Come for me.”

He releases his grip and everything floods through you, burning hot and bursting. You come with your mouth falling open, unable to say a word. 

“That’s it, I’ve got you,” he encourages as he fucks you through it, “Give it to me.”

Your soundless scream finally turns into a flurry of gasping sobs as you tremble in his lap, cumming hard.  

“Good girl. Fuck, that’s my good girl.”

You’re drawn into the mist that hums quietly in your head. You feel Pedro’s hips slow underneath you and hear him swearing as he unloads into the condom inside you. 

Every inch of your body is ringing with dizziness and sunlight and Pedro. You float in the blissful glow. 

You’re drifting back down like a leaf falling from a gentle breeze when you realize there are soft sheets and a pillow underneath you. Your face is tucked into Pedro’s neck as he holds you, his quiet voice in your ear. 

“You did so good, sweetheart. I’m right here, I got you. Such a good girl,” he murmurs. 

You pick your head up a bit to look at him. 

“There you are,” he says with a small smile, a hand brushing over your cheek, “Are you okay?”

“Um, yes,” you reply with an incredulous look. Duh. Thought I made that pretty clear when my soul left my goddamn body. 

“Alright,” he laughed gently, “No need for the sass. I’m going to get you cleaned up, okay?”

You nod and reluctantly let him go. 

He was wearing a condom so you wonder how much mess there could possibly be, but when you pull back the sheets, you realize that your own cum has coated your thighs. Jesus.

Pedro returns with a warm washcloth, gently wiping your skin clean. You watch his careful ministrations for a moment, hesitating to ask him the question on your mind.

“Was that…” You try to piece together the words, “For you, I mean—was that…”

“Mind blowing?” He offers. 

“I was going to say extraordinary,” You giggle. 

“Earth shattering.”

“Astonishing.”

“Divided life into two eras—before that fuck, and after.”

That assessment finally breaks you with a laugh.

“Yes, it was incredible, querida,” he says softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before retreating to the bathroom to get rid of the washcloth. 

You sit up a little as you watch him go, knowing that you have a dumb smile on your face. You glance over at your clothes on the floor. 

Shit, are you supposed to leave now? This is technically a hook up, so maybe you’re expected to get dressed and go, or slip out in the morning undetected. 

What happened these past couple of days didn’t feel like a hookup. That wasn’t Pedro’s intention here, right? He was so intimate and sweet and sincere and… 

God, what if you’re being ridiculously naive? What if he does this with every extra he can get his hands on? What if Jess puts concealer on his scene partner’s hickeys every week?

“Hey.”

Pedro’s gentle voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He’s approaching the bed, his gaze following yours to the outfit laying on the hardwood. 

He sits down on the edge of the mattress. 

“I don’t… I don’t want you to go,” he admits quietly, “And I don’t want you to disappear on me in the morning.”

You just blink at him. How does he know you like this? You think back through your memories with him and try to put your finger on when he had managed to learn you like this. 

“You can, if you wa—“ He quickly begins to correct himself. 

You interrupt the doubt wavering on his tongue with your lips, kissing him short and fierce. 

“You really think I’d want to disappear on you after life-dividing sex?” You smirk. 

He smiles, kissing you till you lay back down, and follows after you. He settles alongside you, pushing aside the comforter and opting to pull the blanket from the bottom of the bed over you both. You wonder why until you realize the comforter is soaked with wet spots. 

“I’m sorry about the, um… the mess,” You say, a bit of embarrassment painting your cheeks, “that’s never happened before.”

Pedro groans a little. 

“Querida, you’re going to get me hard again,” he complains out the feeble warning with a little laugh. “I’m really the first person to make you do that?”

“Yes,” you reply as he wraps his arms around you. You place an arm and a leg over him, resting your head on his chest. 

“I don’t think you understand how fucking hot it was,” he says, “I couldn’t care less about clean up. Now I know to put a towel down next time.”

Next time. 

Your stomach does silly little butterfly flips. 

“You were really good at… um… you know…” 

You can feel Pedro beginning to laugh again. 

“You are so sweet,” he says, “a minute ago you were begging for me to choke you, now you can’t even say it?”

“Okay, that was kinky me!” You explain, “She’s a whole different person. I don’t know her!”

“Oh I see,��� He says in mock realization. 

“But really, you were really good at it,” You continue, “You must have done that before.”

“Nope.”

“No way,” You reply incredulously, craning your neck to look up at him, “How did you know how to do it like that?!” 

“I did some googling when I got home last night,” He says simply. 

“You googled how to choke me?” You hold in your giggle. 

“And phoned a friend,” he adds. 

Now that piques your interest. You pick your head up to look at him fully. 

“You phoned a friend?”

“It’s Hollywood, everyone is kinky!” He defends with a wry smile. “It was just a good friend of mine.”

Your mouth drops open as a name pops into your head. 

“Oh my god, it was Oscar Isaac, wasn’t it?” You gasp quietly. 

Pedro bites his cheek and fights a smile. 

“You called Oscar Isaac and asked him how to choke me?!” You prodded. 

Pedro can’t help a proud smirk and gives a nod. 

“I mean, the bar is exceptionally low, but that’s one of the nicest things a man has ever done for me!”

“I think doing a little research to make sure you don’t hurt your partner is pretty bare minimum,” he scoffs. 

“The bar,” you remind him, demonstrating with a flat hand in front of you, “Exceptionally low.”

“I’m just glad you enjoyed yourself,” he says as you place your head back down. 

“Enjoyed is a bit of an understatement,” you reply quietly. 

You nuzzle in as he adjusts the blanket back over your shoulder. 

You reach your hand up blindly and find the side of his face.

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

He turns his head, pressing his cheek into your palm. 

“You’re welcome, querida.”