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notyourhetloki · 3 months ago

Note

Can I request Wade and Logan/reader breeding kink? 👉👈 both of them too excited about it and competitive? (Can you make reader gender neutral (he/him or they/them or trans ftm (he/him), you can use any terms for genitals and stuff it's ok)

into it (Logan x Reader x Wade)

Reader: he/him (ftm)

/NSFW Logan x Reader x Wade/

A/N: Fuuck I had so much fun writing this, anon! It's a bit short but it's pure porn so I hope you still end up satisfied lol (also sorry about the random gif, I couldn't find a more suiting one lmao). Anyway, hope you like it! xoxo

Tags: ftm reader (reader has a vagina), breeding kink, creampie, they both fuck you, Wade being a fucking joke, Logan is not having it, piv sex (unprotected), porn without plot.

Word Count: 908

—

As soon as you walked through the front door, they were all up in your personal space. Wade and Logan promptly started to take your clothes off, not exactly caring about being gentle.

"Boys! Calm down, there's plenty of me for the both of you!" You tried appeasing, but to no avail.

"And yet is nearly not enough." Groaned Logan, ripping your underwear off with his bare hands. You gasped as his fingers immediately found your sex, rubbing your clit while Wade kissed your neck.

"Sorry about that, doll. We'll buy you another one." Wade whispered into your ear, taking you by the hand and convincing Logan to continue things in the bedroom.

You were basically thrown onto the bed, naked and vulnerable and super turned on. You could already see their hard bulges before they started to take their own clothes off.

"On all fours for us." Ordered Logan, and you gladly obliged. "Attaboy..."

After all their clothes were out, Logan started positioning himself behind you until you heard Wade complain.

"Wait a minute, mutton chops! Why do you think you get to go first?" Wade pointed out.

"Because I can and I will." Logan retorted impatiently, giving your ass a light squeeze.

"Nuh-uh! That ain't fair! I propose a rock-paper-scissors to sort things out, nothing fairer than that." Said Wade holding a closed fist out.

"Fucking hell, fine!" Logan agreed and quickly started the game. They finished the round and Logan played scissors, while Wade played paper.

"Best out of three?" Begged Wade, but the other man didn't care for it.

"Fuck off." Logan pushed Wade aside and started positioning himself again, putting the tip of his cock at your entrance.

You were really wet, so it didn't hurt when he slammed into you. You were full, stuffed to the brim, and you thought it couldn't get any better than that... until Logan began thrusting into you, hitting a sweet spot inside that made you cry out in pleasure.

"Let us hear those sweet sounds you make, boy." Logan said while fucking you. He breathed loudly, grunting and grabbing you at the hips with enough force to bruise. The sounds you made together were obscene, and that turned Wade on even more.

"Gosh... fuck him silly, Wolvie." Wade was jacking himself off, looking closely at Logan's dick in and out of you. "Cum inside him..."

Logan groaned again, more urgent than before. A sudden thought took over him, and he needed to let it out. "I'm gonna breed you, (y/n). I'm gonna fill you up so good... fuck, fill you up with my seed."

"Goddamn!" Said a surprised Wade, not expecting the other man to be so earnest. "That's so fucking dirty... I love it."

"Ah, yes! Please..." You moaned, feeling energy and heat through your whole body. You were being used by him, your body only an object... it turned you on so damn much.

Logan's thrusts began to get even more rough, he was fucking you hard and the sounds he made were animalistic. Soon he turned erratic, his hips faltering in the rhythm he had set. You knew he was close.

He came with a loud grunt, holding you for dear life. Breathing deeply through his gritted teeth, Logan recovered and slowly took his member out of you. A bit of cum dripped from your entrance, and Wade observed everything with a delighted expression.

"I bet I can cum even more in his pussy..." He whispered mostly to himself, but you both heard him.

"You wanna bet, bub?" Said Logan with a satisfied smile on his face. What doesn't a good fuck does to one man's humor?

"Hell yeah, peanut." Wade soon replaced the other man's position and unlike Logan, asked for your approval. "You alright, gorgeous?"

"Y-Yeah... please, give it to me." You moaned as you felt his cock entering you, stuffing you up again.

Wade was a bit gentler with his hands, grabbing you thoughtfully at the places you weren't bruised. But his rhythm... he was still a beast.

"Fuuuck, you feel so good, pretty boy." He moaned, not stopping for a second.

"Hmm, Wade... Logan... ah!" You couldn't stop making noises and calling out for them, dumb with the feeling of being full.

"Good job, sugar... you're being so good for us." Said Logan while standing beside you, watching as Wade pounded into you with great enthusiasm.

"Shit, I'm close... I'll cum inside your pretty cunt, (y/n)." Wade gripped you even harder and finally slammed his hips into you, his climax followed by a deep moan.

He took a few breaths and slowly came back to earth, removing himself from you with a pop. Even more cum oozed from inside you, a beautiful and sexy sight for the both of them.

"As my partner here mentioned earlier... consider yourself 'bred'." Wade taunted, giving a final slap on your ass and retreating himself to put an arm over Logan's shoulder. "Sooo... about that bet, what is my prize?"

You laughed as you laid on your back to watch them both, exhausted but completely satisfied.

Logan suddenly grabbed Wade by his balls, looking him in the eyes. "You get to keep all of your blood inside your body today, sounds good?"

Wade responded in a higher octave, nodding his head and still holding Logan's shoulders. "Ouchie! So rough!" Logan let him go, but Wade only got closer. "You're lucky I'm into it."

—

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nonbinary-arsonists · 7 months ago

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Jimmy, Timmy, Danny, Manny, Jenny, and Dib.

With Dib being on the "bad" side in Globs of Doom, I think he'd have a hard time fitting in with the rest of them.

(Alt text under cut)

ID: Page 1 of a comic featuring Nicktoons characters. Panel 1: Dib Membrane from Invader Zim looks down at a weird device. He is wearing his usual outfit and has dumb hair. Dib says, “Hey Timmy, did you get the energy readings I sent?” Panel 2: Timmy Turner from Fairly Oddparents looks up from a phone while leaning casually on a giant green cartoon hammer in a suburban street. He is wearing a pink hoodie, scuffed jeans, and a backwards hat over a mullet. Timmy says, “Uh. No? What do you expect me to do with them?” Panel 3: Dib and Timmy talk to each other. Dib says, vaguely put off, “What? No, not you, the techie kid with the stupid hair.” Timmy points at him, saying, “Oh, you mean Jimmy!” Panel 4: Timmy looks over his shoulder at Jimmy Neutron and says, “And look who it is! None other than Mr. Chocolate soft-serve himself!” Jimmy is wearing glasses and a red turtleneck under a lab coat and holds a similarly high-tech device to Dib’s. He looks at Timmy, unimpressed, and says, “Can we stop making fun of my hair?” Timmy replies, “Nope!” Panel 5: Jimmy sighs and rubs his face, saying, “Okay, what do you need.”

ID: Page 2 of a comic. Panel 1: Timmy elbows Jimmy playfully and says, “Eh, I dunno. But get this– Dib still doesn’t know our names!” Jimmy looks at Timmy, interested. Dib angrily shouts, “Wh- it’s not my fault your names all sound alike!” Panel 2: Jimmy shrugs and looks at Timmy, saying, “Well, he does have a point.” Timmy looks unimpressed. Panel 3: A close-up of Jimmy saying, “Statistically speaking, it’s much easier for the human brain to distinguish between highly contrasting elements. (I. Brigg, 1978)” Panel 4: A zoomed-out shot of Jimmy, Timmy, and Dib in the street. Jenny Wakeman from My Life as a Teenage Robot is floating down to join them. Jimmy says, “You can’t really blame him when our names are so similar,” with his hands spread diplomatically. Timmy looks incredibly unimpressed. Dib arrogantly says, “Yeah, you all need to get better names.” Panel 5: Jenny appears next to Dib and says, “I am not changing my name.” She looks similarly to her appearance in the show, but has a ponytail and side bangs instead of twin pigtails and is wearing a contrasting maroon vest. Dib is startled and drops his device.

ID: Page 3 of a comic. Panel 1: Jenny appeals to Jimmy, saying, “Anyway, there are other ways to quickly memorize information. Like patterns!” Jimmy looks up with a hand over his mouth, thinking, and says, “Right!” The background is a red and yellow striped pattern. Panel 2: Jenny stands, confident, in front of Timmy and Dib. She says, “Plus, our names already form a recognizable pattern!” Timmy side-eyes Dib, who stares at Jenny, annoyed and confused. Panels 3-5: Jenny starts listing off the members of their group. Panel 3 shows Jimmy and Timmy, looking at each other and smiling. Jenny says, “There’s Jimmy and Timmy,” accenting the last parts of their names. Panel 4 shows Manny Rivera from El Tigre and Danny Phantom. Manny, in his El Tigre outfit, crouches on an awning in the background while Danny, in ghost form, approaches and asks, “Uh… what are we talking about?” Jenny continues, saying, “Danny and Manny,” once again stressing their names. Panel 5 features Jenny, waving a hand in the air while finishing her list, saying “-and Jenny works with that pattern too!” Panel 6: a group shot featuring all of the characters mentioned. Manny leaps down from the left. Danny stands somewhat in the foreground, looking at Jimmy. Timmy stands in the back, looking at Jimmy while thinking. Jimmy and Jenny stand in the middle, continuing their discussion. Jimmy says, “So you’re saying, if anything, Dib should change his name!” Jenny says, “Exactly!” Dib, in the foreground, objects, saying, “W- hang on-“

ID: Page 4 of a comic. Panel 1: Dib holds his hands up in protest, sweating, and says, “I just meant you should- -y’know, give me some slack w-“ Panel 2: Dib is interrupted by a mischievous Timmy, who elbows in and says, “Hey, what do you think about changing your name to Denny?” Dib looks confused. Panel 3: Manny enters from the other side, scratching his chin and grinning. He says, “I dunno, Timmy. He looks more like a Benny to me.” Panel 4: Danny butts in, holding a finger and looking down at Timmy. He says, “Cut it out you two!” Timmy and Manny look confused. Dib looks relieved. Panel 5: Danny finishes his thought, saying “Besides, this guy’s totally a Kenny.” Timmy and Manny both crack up, while Dib looks royally ticked off. He stares straight ahead and says, “That’s it! I’m going back to the syndicate!” Panel 6: A far-out shot of all 6 of the kids. Dib is storming away, angry. Jimmy and Danny follow after him, Jimmy worried and Danny apologetic. Timmy and Manny continue to laugh between themselves while Jenny stands over them and scolds them. (End.)

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slushycoookie · 6 months ago

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Miguel is losing it...

He's paying too much attention to you.

Without having any spider senses, he's learned to be hyper-aware of his surroundings. Focusing on anyone's movements. Unfortunately, that means with you too.

A friendship budding into something more in Miguel’s heart. He notices everything about you. Your nice eyes glitter when you see a thing you like. The way they trace his built frame whenever he crosses your vision. Your fingers brushing an object of his; his shirt, his suit, his hands. You were a touchy person.

When you drink something and share it with him, he tries to lower the uptick in his beating heart. Your lips were on that cup. If he drinks at the same spot where your lips were, would it be like an indirect kiss? That's pathetic. He decides to drink as far away from where your lips were.

Miguel couldn’t escape the taste of you when it came to food. You like to feed him, he didn't understand why. Something about sharing with friends brings you joy. And he wants to make you happy.

You feed him like an infant, holding the utensil to his lips to taste whatever you have to share. Miguel always gazes directly at you whenever he takes a bite. Savoring the mix of food and you around his tongue. How he wishes to get more of you through a kiss. But that would blur the line of friendship and evolve into something more.

The worst part is when you go to hug him. Your body flushed against his own. Miguel rarely gets touched like this. He couldn’t remember the last time someone hugged him willingly. He wonders if he should ask you to stop because his body can't take it. It gets hot, a little sweaty, and he wants to do more than embrace you.

“You're killing me.” He mutters right when you pull away.

Miguel didn't mean for the words to slip out, but you heard it anyway. “What? What did you say?”

“Nothing.” He leaves abruptly to calm down, not giving you room to respond. Those weren't the best words to say, but it was the truth. You were killing him. Eating away at his resolve by smiling at him, hugging him, feeding him. Your entire existence was destroying him. Becoming his downfall.

Of course, you weren’t going to let it slide. He noticed your call later that night. He wasn't going to pick up, ignore you by burying himself in his work. Yet he answers.

“Hey,” You start, your soothing voice causing his tense muscles to relax. “What was that earlier? You left all of a sudden.”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, “It was nothing.”

“Yeah, you said that.” You force out a laugh to try and lighten the mood. “It didn't seem like it was nothing though. You usually don't leave like that without saying something.”

Miguel wanted to confess. Say it was because of you. How you're creating the turmoil in his head. Why he was focusing on every single thing you do and say to him. His silence was enough of an answer for you as you continued.

“Was it because of what I did? The hug? I know we just started hugging recently if that's what made you uncomfortable-”

“No.” He cut you off, “Don't stop doing that.” The word ‘please’ was about to slip off the tip of his tongue, like a plea but he resisted.

“Are you going to storm off every time I hug you?”

“No.” He insists, “That was a one-time thing. I promise.”

“You promise, huh? That’s serious…”

Miguel bites his bottom lip, holding back his amusement. “I keep my promises.”

“Prove it then.” He hears you shuffling behind the phone, “We need a do-over on that hug.”

“You serious?” He glances over at the clock on his screen, almost midnight. “It’s late.”

“So? You should’ve thought about that when you stormed off earlier. Now, you gotta pay.”

Miguel huffs. He wasn’t going to go back and forth with you this late. Better to do a quick hug, in and out after a couple of minutes. “Fine.”

He drops into your bedroom. You leap at his presence, not expecting that.

“What the-why did you arrive in my room?”

“You said you wanted a hug, right?”

“I did but not in my room.”

Miguel rolls his eyes, “What difference does it make? Do you want one or not?”

You pout and he tries not to stare at how nice your lips look. He pulls you into his arms once you get out of bed. Usually, you're the one initiating it but not this time. He holds back from focusing on how you feel. How smaller you were compared to him. The way your arms fit around his waist perfectly. Like you were made for him and him alone.

He notices your smile of satisfaction at meeting your quota of hugs for the day. And he just can't take it anymore.

“I'm in love with you.”

A/N: Love writing about Miguel losing his mind

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel fanfic #slushycoookie writes

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seredelgi · 22 days ago

Text

Who You Begging?

fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

pairing: Fushiguro Toji x Reader, Fushiguro Toji x Fem!Reader

summary: You should know better than to flash Toji with skimpy outfits right before a night out with friends. He should know better than to take you raw. But that's just who he is, a reckless motherfucker that just loves the sound of your voice when you beg for him.

rating: Mature, 18+

warnings: non-con, dub-con, dom!toji, sub!reader, smut, fingering, sex, vaginal sex, spanking, unprotected sex (don't try it at home lol), penetration, manhandling (just a tiny bit, she's totally fine), vulgar language?, orgasm control, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, creampie, multiple orgasms, breeding, breeding kink, porn without plot

word count: 2.9k

a/n: A little treat for Toji 'cause the man has me feral. This is basically shameless smut. Although it's tagged as non-con, reader is not opposed to what happens for the majority of the time. I thought about rating it dub-con but the ending is clearly non-consensual, so there. Let me know if I've left out any warnings. I'm no native English speaker so be kind :)

“ ‘K I’m ready” you announce, entering the living room space and taking a few steps in his direction to stand in between him and the TV he’s got on.

Toji's lazy jade gaze tears away from the inanimate object to trail down your figure, drinking in every curve and patch of skin that rests exposed to the cool air of the night, and you even twirl around to give him a full show.

“ Like it?” you ask, then.

He looks at you for a while, hooded eyes trained on the way the skirt you’ve got on falls only a few inches short of the swell of your ass.

A literal tease is what you are.

“ Do I?” he murmurs then, and he softly grabs at your hand, giving it a light squeeze before dragging you towards him, tugging at you and prompting your ass to land in between his spread legs, your back pressed against his toned chest.

“ Isn’t it a bit… Revealing?” he asks, and you feel his steady breaths huffing silently in the crook of your neck, sending a shiver running through you as his hands stroke along the length of your bare thighs.

You shut your eyes, relishing in the feeling.

But you know you can’t indulge. Your friends are waiting for you.

“ We’re going clubbing” you mutter, and you hate the way your voice is already faltering anyway “ What did you expect?”

“Hmm,” his gentle hum reverberates against you as he inhales in your scent. You’ve put a new perfume on tonight, one that your friends had gifted you a few months prior. You still hadn’t found the occasion to try it on, and a night out with them seemed like the perfect opportunity.

You giggle when he laps at your neck rather lewdly, trailing up its length to reach your earlobe and start sucking on it.

“ So, I take it you like the outfit?” you ask playfully, but his hands have started skimming up toward your breasts, and you catch your breath as you consider stopping him.

He palms one in his right hand, squeezing it so hard that you can’t help but tamely mewling in response, and your head falls back to rest on his shoulder.

“ I hate it” he hisses candidly on the skin of your neck, holding you to him like he knows you love so much.

As you feel the shape of his erection pressing against your back you push your ass against it a little, eliciting a hearty groan out of him, and he bites on your skin in return. Your hand tightly grips his knee, and you feel a greedy heat starting to gather in between your thighs, desperate for him already.

“ Doesn’t look that way to me” you say, breaths short as the curve of your ass grinds along his hard-on.

“ You’re such a brat” he lets out, and it’s so hoarse that it makes your insides twirl, it renews a need he had already sated that very morning.

But you want him again.

His hand finally travels across your fluttering stomach and down towards your heat. You can feel it dampening your panties already, can feel the way you throb for him to touch you.

“ I know how to tame you, tho” he whispers in your ear and sweeps his tongue along its outline, turning it flushed red with arousal.

He pushes the hem of your skirt up enough for him to slip past the waistband of your cotton pink panties, and you exhale, your chest heaving up with anticipation. He catches the not-so-subtle hint, dragging his other hand up to grab one of your breasts.

But it’s when his deft fingers make their way in between your folds that you fall apart, your head tilting to side, hiding shamefully in the crook of his neck as he chuckles, evidently pleased at how wet you already are.

“ Look at this” You feel his black hair tickling your cheeks and you press a soft kiss right on his pulse point “ Already dripping for me, huh?”

You keen, nodding faintly against him.

“ Want daddy to take care of it, baby?” he purrs seductively and pushes you flat against him. You feel his dick twitching with need, too.

“ ‘M-hm, please” you breathe, feeling him dragging his fingertips up towards your swollen clit, and you bite hard at your bottom lip, bucking your hips towards his gentle touch.

The one hand that had kept kneading your breasts rushes down to grab your waist, stilling you against his crotch instead.

“ Stay put, brat” he blows out, and it honestly mesmerizes you how quickly his tone can shift from impossibly sweet to harsh, all depending on how good you are at following his lead.

As soon as you still he starts drawing lazy circles around the soft skin of your apex, and you moan loudly, nuzzling your nose against him to make your needs known.

He scouts down again to rest two digits at the pulsing heat of your entrance. His other hand skates along your thigh and nudges it to the side as he whispers to you “ Spread ‘em, baby- like this, yeah”. It’s easy to comply when you’re intoxicated by the knowledge of what he’s capable of doing to you.

“ Such a good girl for daddy, aren't you?”

Your eyes roll back at the feeling of his fingers finally pushing past your wetness, sinking into it and exploring your insides with extreme, agonizing caution.

“ ‘Gonna mark you now, so stay still” he murmurs on the sensitive skin of your neck, and then delicately bites on it, tasting it avidly with his tongue.

When he starts sucking on you his fingers begin slowly pumping in and out of your pussy, prompting the sound of your juices to threaten the already fading lucidity of your dazed senses.

The harsh voracity that he’s reserving to your neck strikes a distinct contrast with the extreme gentleness of his thrusts into your cunt, and it drives you wild how easily he leaves you on the edge of ecstasy, toying with you like a doll.

“ Toji, please” you basically mewl, your legs trembling for him to turn his attention back to your aching clit.

You know he loves it when you beg him, it makes the power play that much more enticing, all the more effective, and you can feel it because he’s impossibly hard while pressed against your back now, and you want him inside of you so bad that you wiggle, trying to make your needs clear. Who cares if you’ll be late to the club, your friends will just have to wait.

“ Shut it, I’m not done” he hushes you, tone as cold as ice, and he slips a few of his fingers past your parted lips, expecting you to suck on them instead of keeping up the pleads that so easily roll off your tongue when he’s got his hold on you.

And of course, you do. You slurp on the length of them the best you can, your eyes teary with need, your arousal already at its peak.

His lips part from the sore skin of your neck with a lewd pop, and you keen around his digits, only to feel him shoving them further down your throat.

“ There” he hums contently and laps at the spot that he’s so devotedly put all that effort onto, proudly looking at the way your tender flesh plies to his abuse and colors a crimson red that perfectly serves his purpose. He wants to make it clear to anyone who dares to look at you tonight that you’re his alone to dispose of.

As his attention finally focuses back on your pussy his jabs into you pick up the pace, and his thumb comes to rest on your starving clit, feeling it swell under his touch as you convulse around him, brought over the edge in a matter of seconds.

You collapse against his chest, weary and consumed by your own high.

“ Hmm, good girl, ‘came so quickly around me baby” he slips his fingers out of your mouth, but keeps a slow pace with the ones in your pussy, overstimulating your clenching walls as you sob silently.

He kisses your temple lovingly, a contact you silently relish in the aftermath of your pleasure.

Then you hear the sudden ringing of your phone, accompanied by its vibrating on the tea table in front of the couch you’re both seated upon. You look at its screen, seeing your friend’s face popping up on it, her bright smile shining on her features as you slowly regain your composure.

You lean forward to pick up the call, but your man’s quicker, wrapping his big hand around your wrist and pulling it around your back. Then he pushes his hips forward, making you fumble onward towards the wooden surface ahead of you.

Your face lands flat against it, your phone vibrating inches away from your eyes as you find yourself bent over the tea table.

“ Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, and he sounds devilish like you’ve never heard him be “ I’m not nearly done with you”

“ Toji please, stop. I gotta go” you speak, but he’s deaf to your pleas this time around.

You hear the sound of him hastily fumbling out of his joggers, and you try to wiggle out of his grasp, but he’s just so much stronger.

“ Go?” his tone is mocking, and you see your phone go black again, before resuming its chiming as your friend’s messages start crowding the screen “ I don’t think so, baby”

You feel your skirt being roughly pulled up, as well as your panties being drawn down, and you wince when his free hand slaps your ass, making you bite on your lower lip, and most certainly re-awakening a dark hunger you had thought long quenched by now.

He squeezes your ass harshly before smacking it again, and this time around a strangled moan tears free from your throat.

You had tried to restrain from making it obvious how much you like it when he acts like this. Because honestly, you hate that you do. But the task is made impossible by the feeling of your insides twisting as you hear him spit on his fingers before they come to look for your hole again, finding it slick with your juices.

A hearty laugh rumbles from him at that, and it makes your skin crawl.

“ You’re so damn easy for me”

And it’s true. Doesn’t matter if he treats you like a whore, even more so in fact, your arousal grows impatient, it tears apart any shred of resistance you’d like to reserve to him at moments like these.

Especially when you feel his tip eagerly prodding at your entrance, and you whine loudly. Your knees spread further apart on the floor of your living room, and you push your ass up to better accommodate his entrance.

“ Fuck-” he swears, running the tip of his thick cock along your spasming slit “ so compliant”

It drives him crazy, you can feel it in the tone of his voice, and despite how much you fight it, you love it too, the way you so easily bend to his will.

He pushes past your walls, effortlessly enveloped by your slick arousal, and harshly hitting your cervix with one deep thrust.

You cry out, not expecting his intrusion to be so quick, or so intense. It knocks the air right out of your lungs as you feel his weight crashing down on you.

He grunts low and throaty, and you close your eyes shut, bracing for the next shove.

When it comes, you find yourself gripping the edge of the table tightly for balance, biting down on the skin of your hand so as not to make too much noise.

But his thrusts quicken very soon, and he starts drilling into you with ease as your pussy flutters around him, unable to put a stop to the jolts of pleasure coursing through you whenever the head of his cock slams back hard against that sweet spot he knows so well by now.

He’s still got your arm pinned over your back as you’re lulled into a haze, and then he demands you talkative.

“ Wanna go now, baby?”

You shake your head feebly, drooling over the table as he smacks hard against you.

“ No? Wanna stay here?” breathy moans escape his lips in between whatever obscenities he speaks now “ Wanna take daddy deep inside this cunt?”

You nod faintly, hoping that it can be enough of a proper response for him, seeing the state he’s got you in.

“ Fuck- yeah” he groans harshly, and then his fingers let go of your wrist and he grips tightly at each of your hips, guiding you into his thrusts to dig into your insides even deeper “Then take it, baby, you’re so fucking good at it”

Another harsh slap against the sore skin of your ass and tears start to stream down your face, out of frustration or sheer pleasure you have no idea. You just know you need release.

And since he won’t take it in his hands to give you that, your hand reaches in between your trembling legs to look for the sensitive little nub that’s nestled between your thighs, already silently asking for attention.

He takes notice of that and doesn’t spoil the occasion to taunt you about it, of course.

“ You needy little slut” he exhales, the degrading appellative striking a chord with you, and you slam back against his hips, demanding.

He grunts hoarsely and shoves your hand away from your pussy, arising a loud complaint within you. He surely doesn’t intend to rob you of pleasure. Right?

“ Came two times already today, and yet still can’t wait for me to tend to it, huh?”

You whine, starting to grow impatient as his thrusts dial down a little, his pace slow and menacing to your drunken senses. You can feel each inch of him sliding inside of you with extreme ease, his girth stretching you out to perfectly fit his size and making your walls flutter delightfully around it.

“ You know I can give it to you” his words may sound threatening, but his tone betrays all of his impatience instead “ 'wanna hear you beg me for it, c'mon”

You don’t need to be told twice.

“ Toji, please” you give in immediately “ oh, please make me ‘cum”

Even so, his pace remains steady, and you find the way he toys with you infuriating.

But you’re high on it, nonetheless.

“ Who you begging, babygirl?” the tone of his voice husky as ragged heavy breaths tear free of him, the allusion clear in the strain behind it all.

You click your tongue and sigh before giving in.

“ Daddy, plea-ah!”

You don’t have time to finish, he slams back into you with renewed edge as soon as he hears you call him that, a thing you still hadn’t managed to give into, despite his frequent use of it.

He bends over you to look for your clit, finding it drenched in your juices and throbbing from pleasure on itself.

“ C’mere baby, I got you” You hear him purr softly against your ear, and you shiver at his instant proximity. " You can 'cum now"

You’re so close already that all it takes really is a few lazy circles of his on it and you lose it completely, shuddering underneath him, wrapped in the pleasure he’s granted you. Your walls clamp down the whole length of him, milking it so good that you feel his jerks immediately come to a stuttering halt, his cock suddenly beginning to twitch frantically inside of you without so much as a warning.

You flinch, spurting forward on instinct in an attempt to make it slip out of you in time, but his fingers dip harder into your flesh, his hand spreading over your pussy as he anchors you to him.

“ Don’t run away from it baby, wanna feel you squeeze around me -fuck yeah, like that”

You feel every single contraction of his dick inside of you, helpless to the feeling, lost thinking about how quickly his seed could reach your womb as he carelessly fucks it into you, how easily he could knock you up just like that. You weakly try to jiggle away, but it doesn’t stop the tremendously intense jolts of pleasure that engulf you once his warm spend paints your insides white, and you can just feel your walls welcoming it in with delighted little spasms, sucking eagerly as if you were made for it.

And maybe you are, but damn, not right now. It's way too soon to have a baby.

You’re furious with him, to say the least. And you intend on telling him, just as soon as goosebumps dissipate, or whenever words start to seem like something speakable again.

He slips out of you with a satiated sigh, and you feel his ‘cum immediately follow, leaking out of you and starting to stream down your inner thighs. Its warmth is pleasant, yet a reminder of his reckless behavior.

He exhales contently as his hand comes to squeeze your ass again, his grip possessively dipping into your flesh and claiming it his. He gives you a final harsh smack, his tongue gliding along his bottom lip as he takes in the sight of you bent over the tea table, your pussy oozing out his semen and dripping down the wooden floor beneath you.

“ Now you’re ready” he smiles wickedly at the view.

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fernandopiastri28 · 1 month ago

Text

tags: f2 alpine oscar x mark webber's daughter, all pics from pinterest

warnings: blood, partial self inflicted pain, bad father-daughter relationship, angst angst angst in this chapter + fluff at the end

Anyone but webber - Oscar Piastri

Rule 8: Don’t bleed for someone who never bandaged your wounds.

The next morning begins painfully with an eardrum-crushing ringtone blaring far too close to her head. Her whole body aches, her head fuzzy and vision splodgy as she opens her eyes to light bleeding through the curtains. Her phone buzzes itself off her bedside table, now vibrating against the floor—just out of reach when her arm hangs down the side off the bed.

It forces her to try and wake up somewhat, properly get out of bed and answer whoever is ringing her at this obscene hour of the morning. She squints at the caller ID, reaching around aimlessly for her glasses simply because her contacts are too far away right now.

Luckily for her though, Siri decides to read out and announce the message.

Incoming call from Mark (Dad)

Oh.

She rubs her face—maybe slightly too rough and nearly certain to leave weird dry-red marks, and swipes to answer the call. She puts her phone to her ear, finally finding her glasses to shove onto her face. “Hello?” Her voice is gravelly from sleep, barely a croak.

“Did I wake you?” Straight from the get go there is no sort of greeting, no apologiosing for waking her up at barely six in the morning, absolutely fuck all.

“Yeah.” She forces herself upright and coughs into her fist, clearly her throat. Someone, or maybe more, is talking right next to Mark about as loud as they possibly can. Every second word they say gets caught by Mark’s microphone, slipping in and out of their conversation. “Do you need something?”

She knows the answer to that already, Mark wouldn’t be calling if he didn’t.

Cutting across his staticky voice is the sound of papers being rustled, “Uh, yeah. I need you to go up to my office and grab the orange folder ontop of my printer, scan each page, and email them to me.” He pauses for a moment, a few actually. Part of her is hopeful for him to add a ‘Please’, or a ‘If you can’ onto the end, but that’s like expecting him to start speaking Russian.

It’s not gonna happen.

“Or do you need me to ask Oscar to come over and do it instead?”

Objectively, that’s much better than her getting a half assed attempt of him showing her any sense of manners. If he organises Oscar to come over to help with the folder situation, then if somehow he finds out that Oscar was here while he was away, they’ll have an excuse for it.

“Yeah, I think that would be a good idea.” She chews at the corner of her nails, standing up to start getting ready for her day, and date most importantly, even though she’s got hours until Oscar arrives. “I can text him, I think I have his number.”

Think, does—what’s the difference anyways?

“Great.” Luckily he doesn’t question why she would have his number, given that they have near to no sense of a relationship whatsoever beyond speaking a few words to eachother when she’s caught off guard that he just happens to be at her house.

Well, Mark’s never been particularly observant or inquisitive when it comes to anything involving her. “Can you text him sometime soon? It’s quite urgent.”

She places her phone on the edge of her bathroom sink, leaning over said sink to struggle with putting in her contacts, “Uh huh, yeah, will do.” Her voice is strained, her concentration far more on her morning routine then helping her dad with sending photos. “If that’s all, I’ve got to go get ready for today. Talk soon,”

Just as she’s about to hang up, her dad manages to get in three words sideways, “Alright, love you.”

She’s already pressed end call before those last two words properly set in.

Love you.

She can’t remember the last time she heard that from him. It doesn’t sound right coming out of his mouth, said in his voice. Maybe it more so feels like it should be directed towards someone else—Oscar, obviously comes to mind first. Her two fingers feel heavy on her cracked phone screen, now lingering over the lower half of her lockscreen instead of the red cross during a call.

The grim taste of bile flods her mouth, a tight clench in her stomach accompanying it. She can’t even hear two simple, ordinary words, that most kids hear from their parents multiple times a day without wanting to emptying her stomach of anything possibly left in it.

Part of her struggles to even attempt to just accept those words and move on. Take them how they are and keep going on with her day. She can’t, no amount of convincing herself that her relationship with Mark just is how it is helps feel better. Love you—how dare he. How dare he unravel all of the work she’s put in over these past weeks, months even.

Years, if she’s honest.

She blinks her contacts in, the stupid saline solution momentarily blinding her before allowing her to see everything too clearly. She immediately considers taking them out again and tossing them in the bin, forcing herself into a word where everything is just slightly blurry—-where colours bleed into eachother, forms mould into unrecognisable shapes, and absolutely nothing makes sense.

Her father makes no sense anyways, maybe it would feel more normal if everything was that confusing.

She swallows down the bile rising in her throat, pressing the back of her hand to her lips as if that’ll stop the queasiness from spilling out. She grabs her toothbrush, slightly too aggressively that it sends the ceramic cup it rests in flying to the floor, smashing as it collides with the porcelain.

“Fuck,” Tears of frustration pour down her cheeks as she kneels down, scooping up the pieces. She holds the sharp and jagged edged pieces tightly in her hands. She hates this feeling of a lack of control over her feelings, when she can’t hold it all in and just be brave.

It’s stupid—she knows it’s stupid—but there’s no escaping the feeling that Mark’s words weren’t really meant for her. He’s never been the type to throw around affection, atleast not when it’s directed toward her. She can’t remember a compliment he’s given her, a time he’s told her he’s proud of her, when he’s shown a genuine interest in her or anything she’s doing. She sees Oscar get all of that and more though, he gets every bit of affection from her dad that she’s spend her whole life chasing.

At first, she thought he was just closed off. Her mum left the house one day and never returned. As far as she knew, her mother never looked back, not for her or for her dad. At that point in time, she was too young to fully comprehend what had really happened. She was three at the time, and had always been a ‘daddy’s girl’ more than she’d ever been so connected to her mother.

So when her mum left, she was too young to even feel too sad about it. Mark on the other hand lost his girlfriend, the mother of his child. He was only 24 when she was born, and he was at the very beginning of his F1 career. When her mum left, he became her sole care taker, and there was no way he’d be able to take care of a toddler full time at tha point when he had to be travelling most weekends to go racing.

As a result, she spent the majority of her childhood living with friends and family of her dad, knowing her father solely from interviews on the tv screen and the few times he could manage to come back and visit. Her earliest memories of him are distant, fragmented—moments snatched in between races or fleeting phone calls filled with too much static and not enough warmth.

It was everything to her nonetheless. She never had an overwhelming interest in cartoons or any type of kids shows, more often opting for rewatching the same 3 minute interview over and over, wrapped up in a princess blanket on the couch trying to reach out for him.

Even when he came home, he was different then he was in the home videos she’d watch from years before she could properly understand what was ever going on. She just knew that unlike in those grainy homevideos of their family of three—there were no bedtime stories, no trips to the park, no beach trips. Just a man who showed up, exhausted, distracted, and buried in paperwork or phone calls.

That’s not to say he was always switched off. When he would return home after a flight into Australia, if it was night, he would come into her room and tuck her in, leave her with a kiss on the forehead, regardless if she was asleep or not. Sometimes, she would intentionally stay up all night when she knew he’d be back in a few hours, just to be awake and see him for those brief few seconds he’d come into her room for.

Each time he’d be home for was fleeting and not even on the cusp of enough time. Before she could even begin to feel like her dad was home again, he’d leave again and she’d find herself back at someone else’s house, some other relative’s care.

It was the only life she’d ever known, to be fair, and she knew of nothing other than it. She loved her dad, she loved watching him go racing. She loved talking about her dad in show and tell when she’d bring in an old helmet of his or a trophy. He was her greatest pride and joy, all she could ever dream to be.

Once she was old enough to understand why her dad was so distant unlike all the other dads of her friends at school, she formed a belief—a belief that as soon as he retired from F1, he’d be her dad again. A father first, a racecar driver second.

At twelve years old, she finally got her wish. He announced his retirement from formula one to the world in 2013, and she found out at the same time as the rest of the world did. He came straight home to Australia the night of the Brazilian Grand Prix—the final race of his career—-and despite it being past one am when she heard the front door open and shut, she was still awake.

Her door opened and so did her eyes—-only very slightly though, maintaining a squint so it looked like she was aalseep. She didn’t want to get in trouble for staying up hours past her bedtime. She waited for the kiss, for him to tuck the corners of her sheets so tight into her bedframe that she’d have to use all the force of her arms to squirm out of, for him to whisper goodnight to her—-but it never came.

He just stood in her doorframe, his figure outlined by the dim hallway light behind him. He waited for about a minute at most, not making a noise except for the slight hum of his breathing, then he shut the door, leaving her room back in complete darkness.

That signalled the end of her dad, and the beginning of Mark.

And even eight years on, she still feels cold when she thinks about that night. She thinks about trying to tuck herself in as tightly as he always did, but not managing to make it stay, and she remembers pressing the mouth of her favoueite teddy bear to her forehead—a brown bear wearing a blue racesuit, fittingly called Dad—to mimic her return night kiss.

She also remembers crying until the sun came back up, and going downstairs in the following morning to see the door of her dad’s office shut and locked, basically flaunting a ‘do not disturb under any circumstances’ sign. She knew better to go against that, knew that even though she was a kid who just wanted to see her dad—-she knew to be a rule listener, rules were more important then want.

Those barriers never broke down, only putting more distance between them. She’d waited for the end of 2013 like it was going to be the year her world would forever change. She imagined retirement would bring them closer together, mend any strange drift that him racing around the world would’ve caused. She pictured breakfast together—plates of freshly made pancakes, stacked tall, sopping with maple syrup, and oozing melted chocolate—going on bike rides as the sun warms up the horizon, singing along to radio in the car ride to school, trips to the beach when the weather was warm enough and the waves were strong enough to surf.

Instead, she made pancakes out of a bottled mix—almost always burnt or undercooked. She taught herself to ride a bike, far later than other kids, embarrassingly. She’d clean up her cuts when she’d fall off her training-wheel-less bike, wincing at the burn of antiseptic out of the medicine cabinet. She’d hum along to whatever songs she had saved on her iPhone 4 on the walk to school, and once she was confident enough in her ability, while she bike ride to school.

There weren’t any beach near enough for her to get to by herself at the age of twelve without an adult bringing her, so she decided she would buy a beach house once she was old enough and spend near to every day either swimming, surfing, or making sand castles.

The first time she can remember him sitting down to talk to her, or at least saying something of actual substance beyond something meaningless and tossed out without a second thought, was him sitting down across from her at the dinner table, and immediately saying he would be racing in WEC the following year.

She didn’t know what WEC was, she didn’t really care to know anyways. She knew it meant he was going to be gone again, just when she thought she had him back for good this time around.

“Okay.” She’d looked down at her plate, piled with sausages and roast vegetables, both getting cold from how long she’d been waiting for him to join her for dinner.

Neither of them said anything more that night, and she didn’t wait for him to give her a hug goodnight—he didn’t deserve it, just like he’d decided she didn’t deserve to be tucked in anymore.

Even then, it wasn’t until years later when she’d found out that he’d actually signed the contract with Porsche in Endurance racing all the way back in june that she truly ever let herself feel the pain of the betrayal that night. He was never retiring, never actually coming back for her—he would always love racing more than he’d ever love his own daughter.

She still feels like that little kid, crying in her bed back in 2013 over not getting a kiss. This time, it’s over getting a ‘love you’. Two opposite sides of a coin—a kid not getting the same display of affection they do, and a nineteen year old getting once when she hasn’t in years. Even though she’d felt so betrayed and alienated even back then, she’d never stopped trying to gain his approval. She was always convinced that maybe if she just tried hard enough, if she could do everything right, if she was perfect, then he’d notice her. He’d finally see her, finally be proud.

She thought that after so many years, she would’ve outgrown it—left behind that little girl who just waited for the day her favourite person in the world felt the same about her.

“Fuck!” It’s the only word that’s managed to leave her mouth since she ended the call. It’s the only word that can begin to come close to how she’s feeling, but even then, it hardly does. She wants to scream, to throw the rest of the broken pieces across the room and watch them shatter even further. Instead, her hands clench tighter, her skin punctured by the rough corners of ceramic.

Blood trickles down her palms, mixing with the tears that have long dripped down onto the smashed glass. Oscar would think she’s pathetic of he saw her right now, at least she wishes he would. In reality, she knows that Oscar would clean up the mess of the broken cup and then gently sit her down on the edge of her bed instead of having her crouched over in her bathroom. He’d clean up the bloody tears and the cuts—bandaging her hands up so gently. He’d hold her close, wipe away her tears while he says all the right things to make her feel even just the slightest bit better.

She wishes Oscar could just stop being so perfect for a second, wishes he could have a single flaw that she could pick on and belittle him for, make her dad see that Oscar isn’t as amazing as he seems to be.

But he is, and so she can’t even blame her dad for picking Oscar over her—she would too.

The thought of Oscar is what gets her off the floor in the end. She deposits of the shattered cup and washes her hand clean, still wincing like she did on all those failed attempts of riding a bike. She brushes her teeth, she dries her hands off so the bandages will stay on, and she gets dressed for the day. Her hands shake slightly while she does her makeup, and her bottom lip quivers as she spreads a layer of lipgloss across it.

But she holds it together. Two words aren’t worth crying over. She’s not that little girl anymore. She’s her own person, she’s more then just Mark’s daughter. She has her own life, her own world that’s separate from her father—sort of. She has Oscar who she loves, regardless of his involvement in racing. She has dreams to travel the world, to get that beach house, to swim every day. She has plans to go to university next year and to finally get out of the house that’s caused her so much heartbreak.

She can’t grow in the same environment that once destroyed her.

The time on her phone hits 8:50, and she looks her reflection in the eyes. She’s not a little girl. She’s not that little girl. She’s never going to be that little girl again. Until she forces a smile, and it’s the same one she’s had her whole life.

When the doorbell rings, she takes one last look at herself in the mirror, dragging her fingers through her hair one last time, making sure it lays over her shoulders nicely. Even though the girl staring back at her is completely shattered inside, her exterior is near perfection—her foundation covers the redness of her face, any lingering tears look just like the areas where she applied highlighter, her bitten and swollen lips just look plump with the addition of lipgloss. The bandages on her hands are neat and completely hide the cuts.

If she just keeps herself together a little longer, maybe no one will notice any cracks beneath her surface.

With a deep breath, she heads downstairs and to the front door. After a few moments of gathering up the strength to face someone in her current state—even when its her boyfriend who she loves more than anything—she opens the door. Oscar stands there, a white t-shirt and pair of pale blue jeans. His hair is awfully messy, clearly having had nothing done to it whatsoever. His eyes light up when he sees her, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Hi, Osc”

“Hey, baby,” Her face cracks into a smile at the nickname, some of the awful tension finally loosening up. Luckily for her, he doesn’t seem to notice the way her hands are trembling or how glossy and red her eyes are—he’s as normal and warm as he always is.

“Breakfast?” He gestures outside, stepping aside for her. She gives him a small nod, stuffing her phone into the pocket of her darker wash jeans. “Hey, we matched,” He grins at her, getting a giggle out of her. He looks accomplished by that, just getting a small laugh out of his girlfriend.

She hopes Oscar never feels at all like she feels right now, how she’s felt her whole life. Oscar deserves a life of pure and complete happiness, she believes that genuinely. “We did indeed,” She slips her fingers into intertwine with his. He shuts the door behind her, guiding her towards a cafe he’d found online that’s only a ten minute walk away.

On the walk to the café, Oscar shoots off on a story from back in Monza about one of the team’s mechanics spilling a coffee on his race suit—an iced coffee luckily. Oscar right by her side paired with the bright sun, a pleasantly warm current temperature and the promise of croissants and doughnuts, she finds it hard to even be upset anymore.

They get a table for two outside, enough in the shade that there’s no painful glare as they try to look at eachother. The service is quick, their table quickly covered with a hot chocolate, a caramel latte, and far too many pastries and baked goods for only two people. Regardless, they dig in straight away, trading drinks and food every so often.

Time flies past them, their drinks grow cold and more food arrives to their table. She tears off a bit of a cinnamon roll and pops it into her mouth just as Oscar starts to talk. “I was thinking,” Oscar says. “Maybe we could drive down to the beach this weekend. Weather forecast is good, waves shouldn’t be too bad.”

The beach—the final, unfulfilled dream from the checklist. Back at twelve, she could manage to everything on her own that she wanted to do with her dad instead. She learned how to make pancakes, even if they were far from perfect. She rode bikes, though it took longer than it should have and resulted in a few too many grazed palms and scabbed knees. She sang along to the radio, filled the silence on her solitary walks instead of in the car.

But the beach was always out of reach. She had no way to get there on her own, so she would just rely on the impossible hope that her dad would finally look up from his busy life and take her there, just like she’d always imagined they would every weekend.

It’s not that she’s never been to a beach, of course. There were trips with friends or school excursions, moments that almost scratched the itch, but never quite hit the mark. The dream she had as a kid wasn’t just about the location—it was about being seen, being cared for, about sharing that simple and tender joy with someone who mattered. There was a kind of magic in the way she pictured it back then, in her childish daydreams: her and her dad running toward the water, splashing through the surf, him laughing in a way he never did at home.

The ‘someone’ who matters didn’t matter whether that was with her dad or just on her own. All she knew was that it couldn’t be someone else, either the two of them, or just her.

But with Oscar, everything is different. She doesn’t know how to put it into words, how to describe that Oscar isn’t like any other guy, how he’s just about the most importnant thing in the world to her.

Even the fact that without even knowing the weight behind it, he just offered that to her. Casually. Without hesitation. Without her needing to ask, or worse, beg. He doesn’t make it a whole big thing, doesn’t put her in the position of feeling guilty for wanting something simple, something that for once isn’t a compromise.

“Yeah,” she smiles wide, nodding excitedly. Her voice is still soft though, probably incredibly adoring. “The beach sounds great.” Oscar smiles, content that he came up with an idea that she’s so taken with. To him, it’s no big deal, it’s just the beach. But to her, it is. It’s huge, it’s the final piece of her jigsaw.

She can already imagine it so vividly—the two of them driving down the coast, windows down with the salty breeze whipping through her hair. She can feel the sun hot on her skin, hear the soft rush of the waves as they crash against the shore, can smell the heavy salt of the sea.

It’s going to be the best weekend of her life, even better than she imagined it would be back when she was twelve.

y/n.webber

liked by lilymhe, zhouguanyu and 2,879 others

y/n.webber best kinda pick me up

user32 where's the top from?

-> y/n.webber na-kd!!

-> user32 thank u omg!

user17 those pastries omggg

-> y/n.webber they were literally to die for, so good 😙🤌

user21 i need a hair tut frrr

y/n.priv (private account)

liked by l.sarge, osc.priv, and 1 other

y/n.priv seen better days

l.sarge oscar cambailsm

-> osc.priv what word is that

-> l.sarge eating your own kind

-> geo.6arge3 pastry on pastry crime

-> l.sarge ????? who r u

-> l.sarge omg its george sorry im a big fan lol

bsf/n love u baby <3 take care of yourself :(

-> y/n.priv miss u sm </3

osc.priv ❤️🥰

last chapter, next chapter

oooofff, rough chapter. honestly, motivation has been nonexistent recently but honestly, writing this chapter felt so easy and enjoyable, it that makes any sense 🥲

anyways, fun beach times in the next chapter + more oscar centric, i promiseeee:)

taglist: @prettiest-at-the-party, @forza-charles, @sltwins, @sweetwh0re, @lucktales, @ellen3101, @nxlx96, @notantou, @cloud-55, @wisestarfishbouquet, @zupercoolgirl

#oscar #oscar piastri #mark webber #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #f1 #formula1 #formula one #mclaren #lando norris #f1 2024 #fernandopiastri28 #op81 #logan sargeant

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uriswhumpchamber · 23 days ago

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I'm here to bring y'all some living doll whumpee propaganda - and I mean living doll, not conditioned whumpee who thinks of themself as an object (those are good but y'all write them better than me).

And I do mean propaganda.

No mess, no proof of someone living having been hurt. Blood splattered means violence happened, but... What is a bit of broken porcelain, or whatever other material left on the floor, if not something to just sweep away and put with the trash?

No chance at salvation. Who would try to save Whumpee, after all? It's not like they're an actual, living, thinking being - yes, anyone else in their situation could (arguably, but in every setting there's at least one revolutionary) be argued as a person, someone could want to save them. But Whumpee is a plaything. Nobody will come for them.

Being made for someone else. Being made, their purpose defined from the start, whatever it may be. Specially good when that purpose is "take a beating without dying or breaking that much". Specially good when it very much isn't, but that's what happens anyway - with Whumpee not being able to even expect it, no matter how clear the signs, because that's just not how it's supposed to be.

Failing at that purpose, when it's the second - because now they're in pain, now they're suffering, and so it doesn't matter anymore what they were meant to do - they can't. And who- what even are they, at that point?

No chance for adaptation. Whumpee isn't a living being, after all: they can't get used to pain, to overstimulation, to discomfort, to stress. They can't grow around things, can't have their body change to save them, in whatever little ways a living being can make themselves survive - no scar tissue, no numbing of the feelings when it gets too much. Whatever happens, they can only take it - and keep taking it, their body responding in the same exact way each time.

The way conditioning works for a being that's meant to be obedient. It's no longer a matter of Whumpee breaking down and becoming obedient, it's a matter of them refusing to be reprogrammed to Whumper's whims - even if everything in their brain is trying to cave in.

The chance for dehumanization to hit even harder. After all, if Whumpee believes themself to be a person, in whatever way "person" can be defined to include them, then what happens when they're shown just how different they are to a real person? What happens when Whumper decides to correct them, no matter what it takes?

#i could add more to this but i am uhhhh running out of ideas.#make living doll whumpees. i mean you don't have to it would just make me happy.#whump #whump prompt #whump community #living doll whumpee #most of these are based on my favorite OC and like 4 of the AU versions of him

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beelmons · 1 year ago

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I have a filthy idea and I love your blog sorry

Hotch x reader x Early seasons!Spencer (or really any older BAU with reader and Spencer, someone has to show him the ropes, right?😩)

Reader is bound and blindfolded. Hotch is trailing a popsicle over reader's skin, showing Spencer where they are most sensitive and Spencer licks the trail of sticky syrup left behind. 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️(lord have mercy I'm a whore)

A/N: Ok so, i really got into this idea and i ended up doing WAY too much and i'm sorry it's so late but i got too excited. anyways, have this monstruosity.

A different kind of teacher

cw: sensory deprivation (hand binding, blindfold, noise-cancelling headphones), threesome, temprature play (use of frozen goods), fellatio, fem!reader, implied polyamory i guess

word count: 1,996 (on accident)

"I don't think that's—" Spencer tried to interrupt when his boss's actions got questionable.

"It's alright." Hotch answered as he gently tied the blindfold behind your head "She's done this before. I told you, if you’re going to learn how to please her, you’re going to do it my way."

"But that's—" he tried to argue again.

"Reid." Aaron said commandingly.

Their bickering was rather amusing, really. Everything about this situation was. A love-struck puppy, namely Spencer, that had found out you were having an affair, for a lack of a better word, with your boss. Who was later given the odd offer to join in, one that he barely comprehended the dynamic of. The one he ended up accepting because having half of you was better than having none.

The situation in question was no other than your bare body binded to a sex sofa, yes, the one with a funny oval-like shape, in the middle of a street motel. Mind you, a high category one, courtesy of a very spoiling unit chief. Hands tied behind the furniture, a blindfold securely tied against your eyes, and a pair of sound-canceling headphones that would be eventually put on you.

“I don’t think I can do this.” the younger man confessed.

His superior shot him a glare, and his finger raised to press against his own lips, indicating the other to keep quiet. He then proceeded to place the aforementioned gadget against your ears to muffle the sounds.

“You can’t let your nerves overtake you.” Aaron began to talk, walking closer to the chair where Spencer was sitting “Otherwise, you won’t enjoy yourself. And believe me, she wants you to have as much fun as she does.”

“I just have never done something remotely similar.” he admitted.

“And that’s okay, that’s why I’m here to guide you.” Hotch patted him on the shoulder, prompting him to stand up, to which Reid complied.

As the older man directed himself to the cooler, included with the room by the way, Spencer stood awkwardly next to where you were laying. Regardless of his statements about the situation, the twitching of his dick as he watched you breathing, rather heavily, blissfully ignorant of the sinful deeds they were about to do to you, was giving away just how much into it he was.

“You should learn to use your tongue first.” the boss interrupted his train of thought “We’re going to do a little exercise, okay? I’ll trail this over her skin, her most sensitive spots. Clean her up. You have to be thorough, she doesn’t like feeling sticky.”

You were absolutely deprived of such supportive conversation, or anything else for that matter. It was exciting in and on itself to be expectant of what would happen next, along with no indication whatsoever of what that would be. Two, insanely hot, men having you at their entire disposal was certainly arousing.

Such anticipation caused you to moan rather loudly when you felt a cold object hit the side of your neck, slowly melting down towards the base, the feeling only lasted a couple of seconds since it was shortly after contrasted with the warm sensation of what you figured was a tongue following the strip.

It was quick. It left your skin as soon as it came.

The lack of attention, though, would not last long. You felt a new sting of coldness, only this time it was right over your breast; instead of dripping down, the same tool, whatever it was, moved downwards until it reached your nipple. You could feel it going slightly numb from the temperature, it was making your stomach tighten. Again, you felt it part and something a lot hotter took its place. This time, you could easily tell who was taking advantage of your breasts by the bony structure of the fingers.

Spencer was ravishing on the sweet taste of the icicle mixed with the salty notes of your sweat. His tongue was eager and clumsy, but pleasurable nonetheless, his fingers gentle and attentive to the sides of the skin, holding back to not let his animalistic side just come out.

“That’s good.” Hotch praised the young man “It’s all about not knowing what to expect. About surprising her with sudden pleasure.”

Back in your deprived state, you were simply squirming with delight at how your chest was being treated, mouth slightly agape to allow soft sounds of pleasure to escape. The gap was tempting for one of the men, still unknown to you, to defile, and suddenly you felt something land over your lips. You recognized the mixture of freezing water and sugar, and your tongue instinctively darted out to take a lick.

The treat instead began to lewdly penetrate your mouth, simulating a fellatio, and the length of it would teasingly near the back of your throat each time.

The icicle departed promptly, leaving your lips parted and tingly from the coldness, expectant to be inserted again. Instead, the temperature of the new foreign object was the complete opposite, its structure soft to an extent, and salty in flavor. It didn't take you long to notice it was no longer the sugary dessert, but one of your partners' cock.

"Go slow at first, it takes her a second to get used to it." Hotch dragged a hand behind your head, pushing forward gently so you could get more of his shaft into your mouth “But she can take it very well.”

His fingers trailed over your scalp lovingly. His moans were translated in heavy, airy exhales through his nose. He was obviously playing tough for Spencer, no matter how much your mouth actually disarranged him on the daily. He thrusted a couple more times, until he was fully hard, before he pulled out.

He made a signal with his hand to indicate the younger to take over, and Reid swallowed back a knot of nervousness. He awkwardly cupped your head between his palms and allowed his tip to testingly land on your tongue. He shuddered with pleasure as your lips hungrily wrapped around it, hollowing your cheeks almost immediately.

You could tell the member had changed simply by the shape. Leaner girth, more swollen head, and an almost desperate way of moving. He started doubtfully at first, and later his pace began to pick up. His grip on your head was tight, making you unable to move away, and with every push he would reach deeper into your mouth, and the pulsations on his veins would also have a stronger beat.

Spencer was losing it, mouth parted open, head thrown back, desperate whines spilling from his throat. His inexperience was his biggest enemy, because he didn’t last much inside of you. When he started to feel his orgasm coming, he decided to pull away. His fist curled around his shaft, pumping the base at a rapid speed, his tip pointing to his own stomach, since, to him, coming inside your mouth seemed dirty, almost too humiliating.

Hotch stared with amusement at how respectful he was being, rookie mistake, he figured. Too overwhelmed with his own pleasure, Spencer had his eyes fully shut, and became absolutely unaware of the second Aaron gently placed his fingers over the moving hand, pushing it down to aim the tip towards your mouth.

You simply waited for the inevitable, the white strings landing on your tongue, salty and thick, and a lot more than you had expected. When you were sure no more would come out, you attempted to swallow, but before you could close your mouth a thumb invaded it, keeping it open.

“Watch this magic trick.” Aaron showed Spencer the evidence of his release before shutting your mouth again.

You took the hint and swallowed, immediately opening your mouth once again to show no trace of the substance left.

Spencer had to bring a hand to his face to hide his blush, although his again half-hard dick gave him away.

“That’s actually really hot.” he said shyly, brows furrowed in embarrassment.

“It is.” Hotch smiled in his direction “Now that you’ve come, it’s just natural to return the favor, don’t you agree?”

The older man directed himself again to the cooler, taking now a single ice cube that he held with a piece of clothing to avoid getting frostbite.

“Your training isn’t over yet.” he told Spencer once he was back to your side “Next, let’s get you a real challenge. If one drop of this cube gets on the sofa, you don’t get to touch her the rest of the night.”

“W-What? Isn’t that a bit harsh?” he complained.

“If you make her cum before it fully melts,” Hotch ignored the protest “You can fuck her first.”

Again, your senses were too limited to hear their bet being formed. During their exchanges you just waited patiently, eager to know what would come next. Every once in a while, when the cool air hit you, you tensed up expecting something to happen, and even when it didn’t you just got more excited.

At last, another sting of coldness hit your skin, this time it was further to the south, just above your clit. You could feel the object slowly melting, the lack of heat spreading to your bundle of nerves, your labia, and almost to your entrance. It was mildly uncomfortable, but exciting nonetheless.

Out of a sudden, you felt a muscle enter you. You bolted in ecstasy due to finally getting much needed friction on your lower body. It trailed up, slowly and steady, until it reached the top. The lips rounded your sensitive nub, and you could feel them suck on it. The sensation was overwhelming, making you twist over the sofa, shameless erotic moans filling up the room.

The water kept making its way down your sex, and the tongue diligently prevented it from reaching all the way to the leather, driving you insane with each lap at it. Your hands struggled against the binds that tied you down. You wanted nothing more than to hold his head down and bury it against you, to have him flush against your entrance, just licking you over and over again.

A hand landed on your head, indicating that you should keep your movements to yourself. The commanding ambience just added to your stimulation, the mouth down your body sucking the neverending stream of water as if trying to lick it dry. Your thighs attempted to close around his head, and you were finally able to grind against him. For some reason, that did it for you, and you allowed your climax to reach you, and your fluids to come out.

“Impressive.” Hotch praised as he removed the ice cube from your body.

Spencer, however, did not stop, his tongue moving ruthlessly against your entrance, absolutely drunk on your taste. Aaron could see you squirm uncomfortably, being pushed to a point of overstimulation, hands restlessly clinging onto nothing in an attempt to release the slight pain on your abused clit.

“Reid.” he called trying to make him stop; the younger man, however, was entranced by your pussy, and did not react to the mention of his name. Hotch was forced to step closer, tangle his fingers on the blond’s hair, and pull his head back by tugging on his locks, forcing him away from you “Behave. There’s plenty of time for more later.”

He spoke so sternly that it sent shivers down Spencer’s spine, almost as he did during work cases. He nodded with compliance and straightened himself again.

“Sorry.” Reid ashamedly said.

“It’s alright. I know how addicting it can be.” while talking, he rummaged through a go-bag he had brought earlier into the room. “Now,” he tossed a condom towards Spencer “Get ready for lesson number two.”

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fate-of-the-envious · 5 months ago

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How is canon Annabeth abusive?

You want a list?

Alright!

1. She constantly hits Percy. Kicking him in the shins, elbowing him in the ribs, punching him in the gut. Not to mention the judo flip scene. Also, this is never said to be done playfully whatsoever. And it's done constantly in EVERY book.

2. She always belittles and calls him stupid. Like his plans never work. Ha, they work more than hers! Also, the parallels of her calling him Seaweed Brain, when Gabe called him Brain Boy! Like how would you feel if you have a nickname constantly degrading your worst insecurities?! All the damn time! Not to mention Thalia, who Percy was the first person who helped her after she stopped being a tree, after spending the school year with Annabeth started calling Percy Kelp Head and viewing him as dumb. Annabeth who ignored Percy all this year, and was overall just selfish and mean when they met again.

3. Annabeth is so possessive of Percy. Even before they are dating (which doesn't make it any better when they are), Annabeth doesn't let Percy be friends with Rachel. Trying to drive a wedge between the two. And Percy, literally only has Grover and Annabeth for friends. He is so alone, he needs more friends! Oh, and then with Jason she interrupts the two of them chatting and trying to get along. Also, just how she doesn't like that Percy seems to like Camp Jupiter, like he can't seem to have his own differing plans from her.

4. Tartarus. Everything about that was so bad. Like in Tartarus, whom Percy fell down to FOR HER, Annabeth brings up Rachel because in her thoughts, she needs to keep her boyfriend on his toes. Like bitch! Then, we get to how she thinks Percy is so manipulative when he talks his way to get Bob to kill his brother. Like that isn't Annabeth's number 1 tactic. She's so fucking judgemental!

And then the scene with Akhlys in Tartarus. Where yes, Percy is being scary torturing this goddess who tried to poison them to death. But she just tried to kill them! He's saving their lives! And then, Annabeth makes Percy promise her to never use those powers again, because "Somethings aren't meant to be controlled." Like do you know how useful poison-bending could be to save lives? What difference does this make from using a sword to kill monsters when all of them are trying to kill and/or eat Demigods! Not to mention, if someone is poisoned, Percy could help heal them!

Next, because of how horrible Annabeth made Percy feel for using these powers he attempts suicide. After he gets out and faces Polybotes, who controls poison, he doesn't even try to save himself and says to Jason that he deserves to die by poison for what he did! He tried to kill himself! And Annabeth never talks to Percy about this again, and instead talks to Piper who thinks Percy needs to be restrained like he's some kind of monster when he was saving them! Percy is literally the most selfless and kind person out there. And Annabeth treats him like crap! She doesn't deserve him!

5. Percy isn't allowed to have bad thoughts on Luke. Luke, who's tried to kill him repeatedly since he was twelve! And in general, this ship is so toxic and codependent right now, it's in no way healthy.

Anyways sorry for my rant, but yeah Annabeth is abusive, and it's just so concerning how people possibly in elementary school are being exposed to this being a healthy relationship, where girlfriends can hit their boyfriends, and can stop them making friends with others, because they belong to them like some sort of object.

Yeah, I just relate to Percy so much, and I don't want him to deal with another Gabe.

Edit: Okay, for anyone who likes Annabeth or Percabeth, I don't care - you do you. You can like and dislike all the characters and ships you want, just as I can. So, if you disagree with what is said, that's fine, but don't expect me to change my stance when I have already pointed out several concerning behaviors. So, like good humans, we'll just have to agree to disagree and move on with our days.

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writerslittlelibrary · 1 year ago

Text

We can be your family

masterlist part 2

summary: having been in the foster system all your life, you don't expect much when your case worker tells you you're being moved again. what happens when the car suddenly stops in the most expensive neighborhood in all of New York…

pairing: Natasha x teen reader, Maria x teen reader, Blackhill

warnings: mentions of abusive foster families, vague mention of sexual assault

genre: fluff

words: 3542

a/n: this one was voted for the most, and I'm so happy it was. I was super excited to write this and I love the idea of foster parents Blackhill so much, I think they're adorable. I hope you like it and please let me know what you think and whether you'd want more foster family Blackhill :)

maybe I’ll make this a two parter or a series, seeing as I found this already pretty long but I do want to write more about it

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

It was late when the car came to a stop. It had been two days ago when you were told you were going to have a new foster family. You had been moving around all your life, having been left at the door of a police station merely days after you were born. You had never met your parents, and you were put into the foster system almost immediately.

No one had ever adopted you, which unfortunately for you meant that you were still going from foster family to foster family, sometimes even group homes when there were no foster families available.

In your life, you had learned it was best never to connect with your foster families. Usually, it didn't take very long until you were off to the next one anyway.

And so, two days ago when the service worker called, you had started mentally preparing for the next mess you were going to be thrown into. You had learned that most foster families were only in it for the money, and that was often very noticable, ever after the first day you'd be there. Often, they didn't care much for you, which was fine. You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. It was the times they did care for you when you had to be careful.

When they did care, they'd usually have a long list of ridiculous rules, all of which you had to follow. When you failed to follow their ridiculous rules, there'd usually be some type of insane punishment, which more often than not ended up with you hurt, usually because you'd take a beating.

You were a little nervous to meet a new foster family, worried they'd be another collection of horrible people that called themselves a family, yet, you weren't quite fond of the family you were with now, so you didn't care much.

For now, you'd simply hold on to the hope that this new foster family would be better than the old one.

When your case worker came, you'd already packed. Seeing as you had never owned a lot of objects, you were done rather quickly. All your stuff easily fit in one trash bag, your valuable objects, such as your beloved stuffed bunny and your favorite book were all put in your school bag.

When you had gotten into the car, you definitely didn't expect much, but when the car drove through one of the most expensive neighborhoods in New York, you were definitely surprised that that is where the car stopped.

Either your case worker was gonna leave you at the dumpster, or your new foster family is rich rich.

Alice opened the door for you with a smile, and she got your (trash) bag from the trunk. You held onto your school bag tightly as Alice walked inside the huge apartment building, you following closely behind. When you were both inside, Alice walked to the large reception desk at the left side of the lobby. A man dressed in a neat suit sat behind it.

You had never ever been in an apartment complex fancy or rich enough to have a security guard in the lobby.

You were standing next to Alice as she told the security guard you were there for a Miss Romanoff and a Miss Hill. You were looking around the large and beautiful (and extremely fancy) lobby, too busy to even notice Alice mention two women.

The man typed some numbers on some device, then pointed Alice towards the elevator. Alice walked towards it, and you followed suit, too nervous to even spare a glance towards the security guard.

Even the elevator looked fancy, and to say you were surprised when Alice pressed the penthouse button would be an understatement.

When the elevator made it all the way to the top, Alice let you walk out first. There was only one door in front of the elevator, and you figured the penthouse was the only residence on the floor. You turned to Alice, who stood there waiting for you to knock on the door. You took a deep breath and took a few steps forward, pressing the fancy looking doorbell. How rich were these people if they even had a fancy looking doorbell?

The door opened soon enough, a brunette standing in the door frame with a smile on her face. She looked nice, but in your many years of experience you had learned that looks could be very deceiving.

“You must be y/n,” she said as she looked at you, and you were too nervous to do anything but nod. She gave you a kind smile before shifting her gaze to Alice, glancing at the trash bag with concern. Alice took a step forward, extending her hand to the woman.

“You must be Miss Hill. I'm Alice, we spoke on the phone,” she mentioned as she shook the hand of Miss Hill. “I am indeed, I'm so glad you could make it.”

Miss Hill stepped aside, allowing you to look into the penthouse.

“Please come in, my girlfriend will join us shortly,” she said, and you took small steps into the apartment. Girlfriend? You could've known. She looked too well dressed to be straight…

Alice followed you inside, and stood awkwardly in the little hallway as Miss Hill closed the door. She walked in front of you and went to the right, walking into an expensive looking kitchen. It had a kitchen island, and around it were a few high stools.

“You can sit down right here if you want. Would you like anything to drink?” Miss Hill asked, and you just shook your head. She then turned to Alice, who also shook her head with a smile. “No thank you, I'll be going shortly,” she stated as she set the trash bag next to the kitchen island, reaching into her own shoulder bag for a few papers.

She pulled out a map with documents, just as another woman joined you. “Oh, Miss Romanoff, so glad I got to see you too,” Alice stated as Miss Romanoff walked towards her, shaking her hand with a small but pleasant smile.

Miss Romanoff went to stand next to Miss Hill, both standing across from you as Alice handed the map to Miss Romanoff.

“Here are the last documents, and I will be going then. If you have any questions don't hesitate to let me know, my number is somewhere in there. Of course there will be some surprise inspections, and if you would like to get rid of the child please contact the number at the bottom,” Alice stated, and you grimaced at the words she used.

Natasha was uncomfortable with the use of words as well, but you missed the worried glance she sent you and she took the documents from Alice.

You just kept your gaze on your hands, picking at the skin around your fingers as Miss Hill walked Alice out. When she returned, she took a seat, Miss Romanoff now sitting as well.

“So, y/n, I am Natasha, and this here is my girlfriend Maria. It is so nice to meet you,” Natasha smiled, but you kept your gaze on your hands. When Natasha noticed you weren't going to reply, she continued speaking. “I know this must be very scary for you, but I just want you to know it's a little scary for us as well. This is our first time fostering anyone, so if we make any mistakes you just let us know okay?” Natasha asked, and you just nodded your head.

“So where are all your bags? Is someone bringing them over later or?...” Maria asked, and you glanced at her slightly before pointing towards the trash bag. “Those are my clothes…” you said in a quiet voice, and it took everything in Natasha to not say how ridiculous that was.

“Okay, we'll just have to get you a proper bag then, huh?” Maria said kindly, before standing up. “Would you like to see your room?” Maria then asked, and you nodded as you stood up too, going to grab the trash bag. “It's okay, I got it,” Natasha mentioned as she bent down, picking it up. “It's just this way,” Maria said as she led you through a hallway.

She opened a door that carried an empty name plate, pushing it open and standing aside.

“We didn't really know what you liked, but we tried our best. If you would like to change anything, maybe paint a wall or get some decorations you just let us know okay?” Natasha said, and you nodded as you put your school bag down by the bed, sitting on it.

“All this is for me?” you asked as you looked around the room, taking in all the objects already in it. The desk and cabinets were empty, so were the walls, but the room was massive.

Natasha nodded with a smile, walking into the room and turning to the door on the right. She opened it and stepped aside. “This is your bathroom, and right there is the closet,” she said as she pointed to another door next to the bathroom.

“I have my own bathroom?” you questioned in disbelief, and Natasha nodded with a smile.

“There is another closet right here,” she said as she opened another door, a small, undeep closet revealing itself. At the door hung a mat with little pockets, all filled with different snacks and treats.

“We didn't really know what you liked, so we just bought a little bit of everything. These are all yours and you can eat them whenever you like. If anything ever runs out or if you would like some other snack or treats, just let us know and we can get it for you,” she explained, and you nodded with a small smile as you stared at all the treats and snacks.

You had never really gotten any treats or snacks, and you didn't exactly have your own money to buy it.

Maria stayed at the door, wanting to give you your space while getting used to the new environment. “We'll just go and get started with dinner, so we'll leave you to settle in a little bit. Is there anything specific you'd like to eat? We can always order something, I'm never one to skip a good take-out meal,” Maria smiled, and Natasha walked to her side.

You shrugged, not really knowing what to say.

“We could order pizza? Or maybe sushi? Anything is okay,” Natasha pushed when she realized you weren't going to say anything yourself.

“Pizza?” you asked quietly, and Natasha smiled and nodded. “Pizza it is. Do you want a specific one?” Natasha asked as she pulled out her phone, and you shook your head softly.

“Just a margarita pizza please?” you asked, and Natasha nodded.

“We'll just be in the kitchen if you need us,” Maria told you, and she and Natasha left the room, closing the door behind them.

You dumped your clothes on the bed, throwing the trash bag aside and going through them. Most of them were old and worn, but they still fit so no one ever decided you needed new clothes. After you folded them all neatly you walked to the closet, surprised at how big it was. Your clothes didn't even fill 10% of the closet, and you wondered if rich people really needed that many clothes.

Natasha and Maria seemed like really nice people, and even though you'd never admit it, you were excited you got to be with them.

Of course you'd never trust some so fast, but until now they seemed nice and decent. The closet full of snacks definitely made you like them a little more, but you were still hesitant. You'd been in other families where they seemed nice at first, but the moment you'd make a mistake they'd beat you. You shuddered at the thoughts, grabbing a little bag of your favorite candy you found in the closet.

You sat on the bed and took out your stuffed bunny, sitting against the headboard and holding the bunny close.

You were scared and intimidated at this new place, but you were also happy you weren't at the other home anymore. Until now, this place seemed like a much better home to be.

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

After dinner, where you had mainly kept quiet and tried to avoid the questions they asked you, you went to your room and went straight into your bed.

You didn't sleep the entire night. You didn't know these people, and you were afraid they'd come into your room and hurt you. That happened once, in a foster family you had about a year ago. The foster father had gone into your room and he had touched you, hurting you more than you ever thought was possible.

Since that foster home, you'd always stay awake the first night, wanting to be ready if one of the foster parents did come into your room.

Of course, tonight, nothing happened. Natasha and Maria had gone to bed shortly after you had, and the entire apartment was quiet. When the sun rose the next morning, you knew you had to ask either Natasha or Maria for some electronic device.

You didn't have a phone or computer, but you were homeschooled and followed an online program. With all the moving around and switching homes, it was always difficult to find a high school you could consistently go to. And so, you had gotten an online course and some data to login. However, you'd need an electronic device for that, and you didn't have that.

When you walked into the kitchen around 8 am, Natasha and Maria were already awake. Maria was sitting at the kitchen counter, doing something on her laptop as she ate some toasts. Natasha was scrambling some eggs at the stove.

When Maria noticed you, she smiled and closed her laptop. "Good morning. How'd you sleep?” she asked and you shrugged. “Fine,” you said even though you knew damn well you hadn't slept at all.

“How do you like your eggs?” Natasha then asked, turning to you shortly before focusing on the eggs in the pan again.

“Scrambled is good,” you said as you sat down at the counter as well, preparing yourself to ask your question. After you took a deep breath and Natasha put some toast with eggs in front of you, you looked up, not really facing anyone but the counter top.

“So I was wondering…” you started carefully, and both Maria and Natasha looked at you as they waited for you to continue.

“I am doing online school, and I was just wondering if there is maybe an electronic device I could use? I don't have a phone or anything, but I do kinda need it…” you finished, your eyes darting around to Natasha, Maria and then back to the counter top again.

“Of course. We can do some shopping today, to get you some essentials,” Maria said as she got up, opening the fridge and grabbing some orange juice.

Your eyes widened slightly. They couldn't possibly mean they'd buy you a phone, could they?

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

After breakfast you, Maria and Natasha had gotten into their car. Their very expensive, very beautiful car. Natasha drove as Maria sat next to her. After about half an hour's drive, you arrived at a mall, and Maria opened the door for you. You thanked her and got out, following Natasha and Maria as they walked inside.

Once inside, the first place they headed for was an apple store. You were shocked to say the least, really hoping they weren't going to spend so much money on you.

When you entered the store, a worker came towards you three, asking if you needed help. Natasha said yes and asked him for the best phone they offered.

The worker led you there, and Natasha thanked him as she picked it up, examining it. You stared at the phone wide-eyed, but more so at the price. That phone was higher than 1.500 euros, and you didn't believe they'd actually buy that for you.

“Well, it looks great, what color would you like?” Natasha smiled as she went to pick up a box from the shelf.

You shook your head in shock, not believing they'd buy something like that for you. “I meant… like a device you have… that I could use… I didn't mean…” you stuttered out, and Natasha smiled as Maria laid a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“Listen, sweetie, we just wanna get you everything you need. I promise you that we want to do this, okay? And you don't have to feel guilty that we're spending money on you, because we want to,” she told you.

Natasha looked at you too, smiling reassuringly. “We have plenty of money, and we can buy this for you easily. I promise you,” she explained.

“Okay…” you said quietly, still a bit unsure.

Natasha smiled and walked towards the phone cases, Maria, with her hand still on your shoulder followed her. “You can pick out any case you like,” Natasha explained, and you nodded as you picked out a clear case. Natasha smiled as she took it from you, putting it in her basket. Why did she need a basket?

After picking out the phone case, Natasha walked towards the ipads, looking over them and settling on the most expensive one, convinced that that would be the best.

You were about to protest, but before you could even open your mouth, Natasha turned to you. “You can't possibly do online school on a phone now, can you?”

“I really don't want you to spend so much money on me…” you told her, and she smiled at you before picking up the same color ipad the phone was. Then she turned to you, putting her hand on your shoulder.

“We want to get you whatever you need, and the money is not an issue for us, I promise you. Please let us get you what you need,” Natasha told you, and you simply nodded.

Natasha smiled and made you pick out a case, putting a keyboard case in her basket as well, claiming it was so you could use the ipad for school. You insisted you didn't need it, but Natasha just said they'd buy it just in case then.

After the most expensive trip to a store you had ever taken, resulting in an iphone, an ipad and airpods you really didn't expect them asking if you were okay to go to another store.

You said you were fine, and so you walked into another store where Natasha and Maria got you all kinds of things. All things for your bedroom, either to decorate or use. They had told you to pick out whatever you wanted, and after a lot of reassurance you had picked out several books, notebooks, some pens, markers and pencils, and some other stuff you liked.

They also let you pick out new covers for your bed, and after you told them you were fine with the cover that was on now, they told you that was one of their covers so you could pick some new ones out.

The cover currently on your bed was a new one Natasha and Maria had bought especially for your arrival, but you didn't need to know that. They wanted you to pick something you liked, and soon enough you left the store with some pillows, stuffed animals and new covers.

Everytime you came out of a store, you three had to take a trip to the car to dump the stuff you bought before you could continue your shopping spree, but at the end of the day you really had fun.

You felt a little bad that they spent so much money on you, but with their constant reassurance that they wanted to do it and that they had plenty of money, you felt a little better about it.

After you had gotten back home, Natasha and Maria both helped you put all your new stuff away, and you think you thanked them at least a thousand times for everything they bought you. After everything was put away, you went to the kitchen, sitting on the stool as the apple store bag was still on the counter.

Maria started dinner as Natasha sat down with you.

You opened the bag and took out the iphone first, opening it carefully and setting it up. Natasha helped unpack the case and handed it to you when you had set the iphone up.

You couldn't help but smile at your very first phone. You weren't old or anything, but you were definitely at an age where it was odd you still didn't have a phone. When you unpacked the ipad it was the same. You unpacked it and set it up, while Natasha took the cases out of the packaging and handed them to you.

After everything was taken care of, you thanked them once again, and they once again told you it was their absolute pleasure.

Maybe this foster home would be different…

(if you’d like to be on a permanent tag list, so you’d be tagged on every fic I post, please let me know:))