#but they would have fucked it up anyway so all in all i think this was the best Other way out. AND the song slaps. im happy honestly

[whosjunglejim4322]

Warnings : SMUT! This is almost sappy…idk Remmick yearns for connection and he’s so so angry he can’t have you without hurting you … erm anyways he’s also a PERV!!!

“I should hate you.”

You rasped it out, like finding the strength or will to say anything else might stop what’s happening - and you mean what you say. You shouldn’t be as sticky and wet between your legs as you are right now, shouldn’t feel like keeping your eyes open is impossible - but it’s too good, he’s so deep you feel him twitch against your cervix.

Your insides are being rubbed and prodded over and over by his length, the pleasure is white hot and spreads all over, inside and out. A tightness inside of you, a pressure that feels overwhelming.

“Y-you should,” he pants, wet mouth glued to the side of your neck - his canines graze your skin and he teases himself with the idea of wrapping his lips around your shoulder and pressing his teeth into you - a shiver wracks your body. You sense it in him, get goosebumps everywhere.

You cling onto his tattered tank top with all your strength, ensnaring your thighs around his strong waist and holding him inside like a vice. He feels so heavy, so deep inside of you - a slow pace with the force of something, not someone.

“But you take it- oh god, y’take it so gooooood.” He mewls, eyebrows pinched together. Red irises glare at you - stare like you’re the sun he hasn’t had the pleasure of basking in for centuries. You see the void, the depths of despair- it feels like a beckoning.

He’s being loud and lewd, peering down between your bodies and the thatch of his dark hair- watching his slick soaked length go in and out and in and out, the sounds are squelchy and obtrusive and fuck he’s somewhere in your stomach, feels like.

“Why are y-you fucking me li-like this?” You plea, and his mouth is on yours before you can take another inhale. Wet, hungry.

He’s moaning against you like he’s never felt the touch of anything good, anything as whole and divine as you - while he spears you - curling his hips upwards while clawed fingers hold your face preciously. Softly.

“Told you - mm, I love you, didn’t I?” He punctuates between thrusts, juices dripping down to your ass and forming a wet spot beneath your bodies. Your old bed is weary, your sheets tired.

You whimper like a hurt, small thing. It makes him feel crazy - makes his instincts become a real palpable thing - if you weren’t the closest thing to salvation something like him could have, well - he doesn’t like to think about that. Would be messy.

So he softens his lip bruising kisses, makes sure to use his tongue and lick all the knicks from his teeth on the spongy surface of the inside of your bottom lip.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re throbbing around me, y’know that? Yeah that’s it - awe baby take it just like that.”

His hips lose a bit of control- his stomach is tensing at the bottom, thighs tight and balls sore - aching to release, aching to soothe this insatiable need to rock you back and forth on his manhood till he’s raw.

You’re a mess down there, swollen and puffy and your arousal mixed with pre cum has coated his cock in this white translucent slick - it’s gorgeous, he wants to suckle your clit and clean you up.

“Love you, R-Remmy.” You hiccup, and if he had a heart that could beat - it’d be hammering out of his chest. He’d do anything, anything, to give you his babies, build a nice big garden out front - dine between your legs for dessert after the house is asleep.

It’s pathetic. That’s what does it for him. It washes over him like a spell - a lucid dream that shatters his ability to hide. He rips the sheets between his fists - and his mouth is buried into the mattress between the empty space of your neck and shoulder.

He’s ripping the material with his teeth, thrashing while his hips form an unsteady, frantic rhythm - you feel it inside of you, his release. It’s warm because he fed earlier - you don’t think of it too hard - and you can’t when your body is quivering and trembling underneath him.

“Cumming, cumming - oh god, Remmick, Remmick.”

You’re fucking yourself on him while the otherworldly feeling creeps in - you’re not sure how he does it, or why it happens - but his release almost always spurrs your own and it’s an unbearable sort of pleasure.

You want to cry, but your voice doesn’t work. He’s still pumping cum into you, you’re coated between your legs with its abundance - and your fingers tangle within his sweat soaked strands of hair.

You tug him up, like you need him to breathe. You kiss him so roughly, he almost finds it cute. But he’s got you pinned to your mattress and he’s sheathed inside of your cunt and he’s a fucking vampire. Ain’t that a bitch?

“Feels good honey? Yeah I know I know, shhh.”

He pecks your mouth, moving your hair out of your face, admiring his work on you. You’re kiss bitten, fucked out, barely here but you’re so completely locked into him - a spirit to the void. A match into the darkness. You are so alive beneath him, a perfect, delirious daydream.

He gives you a second. A human second. Knows you need it the most after he makes love to you, deflowers you over and again. He can’t feel shame. Maybe if he could, he’d feel something close to it - but how can he?

You’re staring up at him, thumb squishing into the soft flesh of his mouth, prodding the fangs behind the pink skin. You trace the lines etched into his skin, wonder what he looked like as a human man. Doesn’t matter now. He’s yours.

You press your nose to his, and he pulls out - you wince and you blink once - he’s in between your legs, licking you clean, sucking and resisting the urge to draw blood - you try to squirm away but he doesn’t let you - it’s almost endearing if you weren’t so overstimulated.

He’s doing it so lovingly, just cleaning up his mess, licking his plate clean. Your clit, your folds, everything he can reach. Kisses your bundle real sweet when he’s done. He’s satisfied, stands up and he’s still not yet fully soft as he pulls his trousers back on.

“Stay.” You say it like you’re surprised it came out of your own mouth. But it was bound to be said at some point. Every time you’re with him like this - the pull gets worse and worse. It doesn’t feel natural, but it doesn’t feel unnatural either.

You’ve got it bad.

He pauses, stares at you in a way that should scare you to death - should make you run. It’s creature - like, as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re a threat or not. You’re used to it, know it’s just part of his nature now.

“You mean that?”

He shouldn’t sound so breathless. He hasn’t had a need to breathe in centuries. He steps closer, slowly. And you know that it’s on purpose, makes you smile a little.

You pat the bed, ruffling the covers. His ears twitch, nostrils flare and the scent of you is so perfumed in the air he almost moans.

“I always did like taking strays in.”

He smiles, even chuckles, irises a crimson and obsidian melt of admiration.

“Keep feedin me, and I might stick around too long.”

[p1astr81]

Hear me out: Either Lando or Oscar with virgin!reader where he convinces her that just the tip won’t make her lose her virginity… but he gets greedy and decides just the tip is not enough

😀😀😀 that’s nice sweetie…

uhm anyway warnings: smut, dubcon, manipulation, unprotected piv, naive!reader, rough sex (lando), aftercare (lando)

please do not continue reading if any of these warnings make you uncomfortable.

Lando

“Are you ready for me baby? Sure you can take it?” His voice was rough while he ran a hand up and down your side.

“Mhm,” you whined, nodding. “Just the tip, right?” Your eyes were already dazed as you looked up at him.

“Sure.” He grunted, already pushing into you. “Fuck, fuck you’re so tight. Even after you’ve cum on my fingers.” He heaved, eyes finding the ceiling.

“Land-oh, oh god,” you couldn’t comprehend how full you felt already. Just the tip and it was so much more than his fingers.

He tried to find his restraint, but you felt too good—squeezed him too good. He eased more of himself in, surpassing ‘just the tip.’ “Take all of me, show me you love me.”

The stretch stung, but your hisses were drowned by his guttural moan. “Lanny are you sure it’s-“

“Fuck if you love me, you’ll let me have this.” He cut you off.

You’re squirming under him, unable to understand this wasn’t even his entire dick, because he promised just the tip. He’d honor that, right? So while you’re thinking your virginity is still in tact, Lando’s tip is hitting your cervix. He slipped fully inside you with a moan alike to the ones in all those pornos he made you watch. And you’re so, so full that your back is arching off the bed, conveniently pushing your perky tits into Lando’s face.

“Oh, o-okay” you hesitantly agreed without knowing he’d already forced you to take all of him.

And he laughed cruelly.

You looked down at that to see yourself taking every inch, the sight drawing a whimper out of you. He rolled his hips, and you couldn’t help the moan that rolled off your tongue.tears brimmed your eyes at the stretch. “It’s too much!”

His chest was heaving. He pulled out of you almost completely before slamming back into you in one thrust. It tore a scream from your chest. “You feel amazing, loving me so good,” he rasped.

He gave you no time to adjust, fucking into you rough. He slammed against your cervix. Every snap of his hips drawing a new ah, ah, ah from your lips. Music to his ears. Every move was done in disregard of your pleasure, only seeking his own release.

“fuck, I’m gonna cum, gonna cum so deep in you that you’ll be dripping for days.” he grunted, not even trying to slow down. He ignored how you pointed out he wasn’t wearing a condom. “Yes, oh, fuck!” He came with a shout of your name, spilling into you just like he said he would. He continued to roll his hips so your tight walls could suck him dry.

It was only after he pulled out and lay next to you that he noticed your soaking cheeks and puffy eyes. That seemed to clear his foggy brain of the pleasure and wake him up.

He sat up, hesitant to touch you “did I- fuck, did I hurt you?”

You choked, hiccuped. “I- you- yes,” you sobbed into his chest. “It was too much.”

Oscar

“Is it going to hurt?” You asked under him, eyes big. His throbbing cock was already lined up with your sobbing hole.

“No, it’ll feel good. Just the tip.” He repeated his earlier words.

“Okay. Go ahead.” You nodded, biting your lip in anticipation.

He eased the tip in, closing his eyes in bliss at how you sucked him in. He tried to give you just the tip. He really did.

“Fuck, baby I need it so bad. You’ll let be put it in all the way? Be a good girl for me and take all of me?”

Your eyes widened, already feeling the stretch. “I-but I’m waiting-“

“I know, but it’ll feel so good.” He argued. “For me and for you.” He grunted, easing into you farther. You moaned as he stretched you out. He knew how to get you to agree. It was an easy promise to make. “Then I’ll marry you and it won’t matter anyway.”

Those words went to your head, and you nodded almost immediately. “Okay, okay. Please”

He slid into you all the way, whimpers falling from your lips at every centimeter of him. Your eyes were screwed shut, your breathing already labored. “Hurts.” You squeaked out.

“I know,” he cooed, rolling his hips to test the waters.

You whined, squirming under his hold. “Oscar I can’t-“ you shook your head.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’ll feel good in a little.” The rolling of his hips fell into a slow rhythm. It took everything in him to resist the urge to slam into you.

Your whines faded into low moans, eyes blinking open to look up at him. “Please, I’m so full!” You cried, clawing at his flexed arms with your fresh set of nails.

He hissed at the sensation. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you now?” He rasped, kissing the swell of your breasts.

You were still conflicted. That wasn’t ideal for him. He pulled all the way out just to thrust back into you. Not slow, not fast, but the perfect medium to make your head explode.

“Yes! Yes I need it! Oh, please Os,” he chuckled under his breath. How quickly you went from being so against having him inside of you to begging him for it.

He fucked you slow just to see you squirm under him, just to hear your desperate cries for more. He’d gave an experimental rough thrust just to see how you’d react. He took mental note of how your body jolted and how you screamed and arched your back. He’d leave the rough stuff for another day.

“I’m so close. You gonna cum with me? Let me spill inside this perfect cunt?” He grunted, his forehead touching yours. “You’re so tight around me, like you were made for me.” He closed his eyes, tilting his head to the ceiling. “Cant believe you kept this from me for so long.”

His filthy words gave you a burst of pleasure. So did the extra stimulation of his fingers pressing against your clit. He could feel the way you squeezed him, heard how your words got more stupid by the second as your brain was drunk on the feeling of him so deep inside you. All you could do was nod at his nasty questions, and mumble something he thought was awfully close to the words, “need it.”

You let him cum inside you, his thrusts growing rougher and more erratic as he tried to ride out his orgasm. You came soon after, no worries about getting pregnant because he told you virgins couldn’t get pregnant.

[innerchildabortionclinic]

every time a family court case ends with the dad killing the kids it 1) always ends up on my tiktok fyp and 2) the comments are so fucking stupid. "why doesn't anyone hold the judge accountable" because the judge literally did nothing illegal, we just live in a society where most people still--whether they want to admit or not--see children as property a parent is entitled access to, ESPECIALLY the biological father! how many people would side with the father if the case gained publicity *before* he killed anyone? how many would say "you have to watch out for women in divorce, she's obviously coaching the kids to alienate them from their dad"? I literally see this shit all the time and you think it's like a couple evil judges who created this situation let's be soooooo honest with ourselves right now. every failure of family court is a failure of society and not much will change as long as people hold the same biases. not everyone wants to have children for good reasons...there is some really twisted stuff happening in families that's way more common than you assume, it's just underreported because it stays within the family.

also a lot of times the mother gives the father so many "second chances" that it can be used in his favor (removing a restraining order against him, allowing him to see the children, etc) so like the whole "she took the kids thing" has always been funny to me. Anyway

[heavenlyeye]

i used to spend hours of my time belittling and insulting and being completely and utterly offended by the stupidity of others when they tried to pull this statistic up when it came to DID. on youtube which is shit anyway but still. like all the people fake claiming systems would truly send me into a rage. 1% of the entire population is still a lot of people! 1% of an entire state is still a lot of people! and statistics don't literally count for every damn person when it comes to populations. like do you really think they sat down and counted every single system. do you think everyone who has DID went and got diagnosed. and people still, to this day, refuse to think about it beyond "im right they're wrong" because they're so fucking ableist and i think every system should be able to punch a fake claimer, one punch per alter.

disclaimer: i don't have DID i just hate fake claimers.

"this thing is rare and only affects 1% of the population" dude that's 80 million people can you shut up

[definefaulty]

sticky situation

spider-man x top male reader

(mlm smut, peter caught using a dildo, fisting, reader is hung, breeding kink, this is long, gets sweet at the end? supposed to be uni age)

Peter, is a dork. adorable, nerdy, very clumsy, awkward, and sexy as fuck. no one else seems to think so much to your bafflement. still, there’s a certain pride in being the seemingly only one who’s stared at his legs while he’s wearing shorts, smooth and toned. that you’re the only one imagining kissing his nape in class. or even the only one who has his entire face memorized, every cute detail, his expressions.

you probably should be embarrassed a little, but thinking of him fogs your brain up with all kinds of feelings, adoration, protection, cute aggression? your dreams often feature his appearance, where you to get to watch more expressions he could make come to life, waking up with intense morning wood and cumming your brains out thinking of him.

so eventually you decide that you have to just ask him out, jump off the proverbial cliff and see if your dreams soar.

which is how you’re now at his apartment, a bouquet of flowers in hand and nerves flying through you. his aunt greets you at the door when you knock, actually just leaving for a while. after explaining you're a friend of Peter's she lets you stay over, eyebrows raising at the flowers in hand, which makes your face flush.

the apartment falls silent when the door closes, distantly you can hear music playing from Peter's room. you swallow your nerves, taking tentative steps through the apartment as you start running the conversation in your head. honestly you were hoping to talk to him at the door, which would let him shut it in your face. if he wanted. your palms are sweaty around the plastic, and already it's hard breath properly.

you're still deep in thought by the time you reach his door, the music pretty loud behind it, and so you don't think at all when you reach for the door handle, grasp it, and push. seeing the scene inside makes your heart skip several beats, probably the blood rushing to your face and filling your cock out.

he's on his bed, a speaker playing on the nightstand, naked, sweaty, and laying on his back with his knees to his chest. the first thought you manage to have is that he's flexible, as he stares at you with wide eyes and his jaw dropped.

your brain finally processes that a thick dildo is in his ass, as he stutters your name, his hole clenches and shoots out the fake-dick making his eyes roll with a low moan. you get a good view of his gaped hole, filled with lube and clenching around nothing.

you gulp, and he stares at you, before slowly reaching over to his phone to pause the music. now in silence the two of you hear nothing but the other's labored breaths.

"i, uhm," he says, "thought i locked the door."

your eyes finally leave his hole to his red face, as his drop to your dick snaking down your thigh.

"guess not," you hold up the bouquet and give it a shake, "brought you flowers. but uh," you let out a little laugh and close the door behind you, actually locking it, and place the bouquet down on his nearby dresser, "if you want, we can start with my dick instead."

you step closer to the bed, watching him bite his lower lip and stoop his head.

"i was gonna offer it to you later, anyway," you say, running your hand over your bulge, surpressing a shiver of pleasure.

he looks back up at your eyes, shifting over slightly to direct his ass to you, "well, i—i do... think of you... using this." he nudges the dildo with his foot, spreading his legs more as you stand at the edge of his bed.

your eyes sinfully take in everything about his state, his messy hair and cute eyes, flushed cheeks, his abs are surprisingly shreaded, his thighs thick and smooth, his cock hanging uselessly with a bead of precum hanging from it, and the depraved, holy grail, of your nerdy crush, his pussy he fucks dreaming of you.

you nod, taking a long breath through your nose, "i need you to say it, though."

he cringes, his hands clenching on the sheets by his legs, his hole winks at you, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

"please, give me, gimme your cock," Peter manages, peaking at you through half closed eyes.

it's music to your ears, and you throw your shirt off, taking hold of both his legs and dragging him forward, more on his back. he gasps and you kiss his ankle, moving forward down his calf and knee, stopping to bite the plump flesh of his thigh. you run your tongue down it, close to his crotch and skip over his cock to leave a hickey on the other.

he whines, his hands in his hair as his breathing picks up. you pull from his thigh and lean down to kiss him for the first time, his lips are smooth and angular. he moans into your mouth and submissively lets your tongue enter, running over his and mixing your spit togther.

you pull back to admire his shiny eyes and lips, "open your mouth," you whisper, low and growly, he does and you let your spit drop into it, he swallows and moans.

"please," he mumbles, "fuck me—fuck me—fuck me—"

you move back down and stick your tongue in his accesable hole, his words cut out with a groan and you see his eyes roll, his cock flinch. his lube tastes like strawberry and you dig your tongue into him, running it over his gummy walls, at a spot you feel his thighs squeeze around your head, and you flick your tongue over that spot again and again.

"there, fuck right there!" he whines, as you attack his prostate.

your nose lays against his balls as you dig your face as far as you can in his ass, getting to your knees to give his back a break as you eat him out. he moans with his mouth open toward the ceiling, all the noises deliciously filling his room. you hope his aunt really won't be back for a while.

you pull your face back as he groans your name, inspecting his gaping pussy now mixed with your saliva in it. you give his hole another kiss, and stick your finger in, playing around with how loose and wet he is.

multiple fingers fit in him easily, and you start pumping them in and out, your knucles almost sliding in with them. he whines high pitched and his foot rests on your shoulder.

"please!" he yells, "breed me, fill me up!"

you find yourself grinning, your cock painfully hard in your pants, but your sadistic side wants to tortue him some more.

you stand up with your hand still in his ass and grab his hair, tugging his head up to capture his lips again. you suck on his tongue drawing it out his mouth, and have your eyes open to watch him.

you slowly push your hand inside and watch with glee as his eyes shoot open, his jaw dropping as a long drawn out moan escapes him. your knuckles breaching inside and your whole fist fitting in his cunt.

"holy shit you're a slut!" you groan, feeling his warmth encasing your fist.

tears fall down his face, his eyes glued to your gaze and his toes curling, "fuuuck, punch my pussy," he cries, "destroy my cunt daddy!"

you chuckle and lick his tears, bite his earlobe, and then stand back a bit to start moving your first. he cries out with every movement, you drag your knuckles past his puffy rim and then back in again, his cock is standing hard and leaking.

"oh my god, holy fuck!" Peter throws his head back, his hand holding your bicep strongly, the other twisting the sheet in his grasp.

he yells your name as you pull out, then in, and slowly push more of your arm inside getting up to your wrist, his foot on your shoulder pushes your arm back.

"too much! too much!"

you quickly but carefully pull your fist out and he lets out a loud groan, you inspect his hole, fucked and puffy, finding no blood, and get back to him, putting your arm around his shoulder.

"are you okay? need to stop?" you ask, carefully gathering him in your arms.

he's breathing hard but shakes his head, blinking his eyes open and, catching your worried expression laughs a little, it makes your heart flutter.

"no, no i'm good just, wow, a little too much," he says, you feel him cuddle closer to your chest, his body shivering.

you nod and place kisses on his forehead, his nose, over his eyelids, he giggles and grabs your chin, moving you to kiss your lips. and pulling back he looks up at you as cute looking as ever.

you feel his hand go to your cock, slowly dragging over the contained inches in your pants. a shiver runs through you, your eyes rolling and then focusing back on him.

"can i," Peter says, a shy smile on his lips, "suck you off for a bit?"

"yeah," you breath.

"and then," he gets closer, touching his nose to your neck, and then getting his lips next to your ear, "in a bit. you get me pregnant with this huge fucking cock, like i've been asking."

your chest fills with excitment, your face trying and failing to hide your emotions, "yes baby."

he pushes you gently to lean back on his headrest, getting on his knees and spreading your legs out. in-between your legs with his back arched, his round butt sticking up in the air, he runs his hands along your thighs and over your bulge and balls, getting his fingers in your belt.

he looks up at you as he unclips it, dragging it out and off, the metal clattering beside his bed.

"i've always wanted to taste you," he says, "mmh, you're so fucking big daddy."

you groan, stretching your arms over the headrest, "get me in your mouth, Pete, please."

he nods, undoing the button and dragging down your zipper, he grabs your pants by the calves and drags them off with a shocking speed. you blink now in your underwear, his eyes are focused on your dick and he licks his lips. you gulp.

he kisses the tip of your cock through your boxer-briefs, placing more kisses down the shaft as he goes and licks the cotton over your balls, each placement of his mouth giving you a small blush of pleasure. a tease of what bliss you know his mouth will be, the back of his throat.

he bites his lip, fingers clasping the waistband of your underwear. he drags it down slowly, and when your member springs up he smiles, getting your underwear down the rest of your legs and tossing them behind him.

his hand grasps your cock, his fingers almost touching around the girth, you feel his hot breath on it as he stares, his eyes dragging up the whole thing like he's memorizing it. then he kisses the head, his eyes meeting yours as he does, flirty and sexy and cute, and you feel all that fog filling your head, wishing your cock would be filling his.

he lays down, his legs kicking behind him and his cute butt on display, he licks the underside of your dick from the base to the tip, moaning as he goes and flicking his tongue around the head. he puts his lips over your tip and starts jacking the rest off, his playful gaze trained on you as your breathing gets harder.

he rotates his mouth letting his drool spill down the sides of your cock. he pulls off with a wet kiss, stooping to lick your balls, he takes one in to suck on while stroking your length, moving his wrist around the end of it.

he picks his head up again, drawing in air while running his tongue over his lips, “your cock is addicting,” he mutters, placing both hands on you and energetically jerking it off.

he smiles with your groan, taking his eyes off the angry head to enjoy your expression. his eyes twinkle with a lust you couldn’t have imagined him having as he slows his movements, holding your cock in front of his head. he slaps your tip on his face, his eyes crossing as he stares at it.

“stop playing with your food,” you tease.

“yes sir,” he smiles.

with a breath he sucks your dick in and slowly pushes his head down, you feel the mind melting bliss of his tongue and mouth, breaching his throat, his saliva coating you, his walls massaging every inch of your cock as he audibly fights through gags.

“careful baby,” you manage through moans.

he squirms a little, his eyes pouting up at you as his nose settles into your pubes, your cock logged inside his throat to the hilt. his hand cradles your ballsack, the other pressing on your thigh for grounding.

you have to throw your head back as he holds himself there, moaning around your length, his tongue wrapping around what doesn’t get in his throat. when he pulls back a thick mess of his spit stays hanging from your cock, soaked in his saliva and your precum.

he gasps for air, but his eyes shine with that beautiful smile, he only takes a break for a moment—throating your cock again with ease, it has you grabbing his hair, brown and fluffy, slightly curly hair you’ve dreamed about, you clutch it to drive your pelvis into his face.

“fuck Peter! so, mh, fucking good.”

your brain is doing that melting thing, your eyes rolling back in your head. when you drop your hips back down he’s fighting for air, flushed face and drooling down his chin. you clean his tears with your thumbs.

“ha, fuck, my face.”

“you want it?”

“yes! i can take it,” he pleads, tapping your cock against his tongue, “be rough.”

“slap my thigh if you need me stop.”

“yes sir.”

you take hold of the sides of his head, he opens his mouth willingly keeping eye contact with you, you time it with him taking a deep breath—pushing his head down as you thrust forward, shoving your whole cock in his throat.

you pick up a fast pace, his hands relaxed on your thighs, as you fuck his mouth you feel your balls slap his chin. his eyes almost shut close, fighting to open and watch your jaw-dropped expression through tears. he takes it so damn well, not a gag coming from his as he breathes through his nose, his throat relaxed to service you.

your abs and thighs start to burn, but the pleasure blocks it out, your tongue hanging out as a wicked grin grows on your face. he keeps his eyes trained on you, drool flowing over the sides of your dick and coating your balls in it, getting on his bedsheets.

you feel your release approaching, moaning loudly, “Pete, i’m close, p-pull off, lemme-“

hearing that he grabs your chin and balls, burying his face into your crotch.

“oh Peter!”

he’s strong as fuck, but lets you push him off your cock, just barley holding back a fountain of cum. he takes scarily stable breaths as you hunch over to keep from cumming. your cock is buzzing with the pleasure he just gave you, harder than you’ve ever been.

“almost,” you say, grabbing his chin, “made me cum a little soon.”

he swallows the excess spit in his mouth, placing a finger lightly on your piss slit, sending a shiver through you.

“i want more than one load though, daddy,” he says, flashing his teeth.

you gulp, staring with a mix of excitement and fear at him, “alright, anything for you, c’mere.”

you drag him up and on your lap, your cock nestling between his butt-cheeks. you hold his waist, the both of you smiling as you lean into a kiss. you feel him push his ass back into your dick, his glute muscles flexing to mush them against your cock. you groan into his mouth, feeling his tongue slide into yours.

he’s slow and sultry as he explores your mouth, his arms around your shoulders, his back arched. he tilts his head to the other side, your tongues moving around the other. he rolls his head back giving you access to his neck, you quickly move to it to place more hickeys without a care. he sighs, caressing your back.

he leans down next to your ear again, “first load goes in my pussy, balls deep.”

you get your mouth on his nipple, suckling it, he moans.

“s-second load, i wanna drink.”

you push his arm up to lick his pit, a small patch of hair there and the smell of his body wash, fruity mixed over the musk of his sweat.

“th… third,” he gasps, you move to meet his gaze again, nodding, “i wan’ you to cover me with, nut on my,” he pushes his pecs together, “lil tits?”

you kiss him again, grabbing the base of your dick and lifting his ass up, lining your tip with his hole.

“and when will you cum?"

he whines and wiggles his butt over your tip.

"maybe a few times, if you're good with me."

you push his ass cheeks down, his hole sliding over your cock wet with lube and spit, you both moan in sync, eyes fighting to stay on each other through the penetration. he sits on your cock fully, jaw dropped gorgeously at how full and stretched you make him feel, you feel his heat encasing your member, his skin is warm on yours, his heart beat on your chest.

"i am good, trust me," you say in a whisper, clutching his torso with both arms.

he nods, eyes rolling as they close and he lifts himself up your length, keeping the end inside, and then dropping down with a flush of his cheeks on your thighs.

you both swear, every nerve in your dick firing on all ends how fucking good his ass feels. his adam apple bobs as he starts riding you, hugging your shoulders, his nails bite into your skin and you keep sucking the skin on his collar bone, planting a possesive pattern to bloom across his chest.

he about sings your name in needy moans, his hole squeezing around you, milking your cock to draw out that orgasm. that cum he needs to feel fill him up, needs to feel hot on his skin. you watch him through every bounce, your eyes taking in every shift of expression and bounce of his pecs, your hands on his waist, his round cheeks bouncing on your lap. you growl and move up to kiss his neck more, he clutches your hair with a hand, moaning throatly.

when he moves up you feel his walls milk your inches, fight to keep you inside, and when drops down it sucks you in, warm and wet and making your whole body buzz.

he groans his head rotating to lay on your shoulder, "every, hng, time it hits my! prostate, you fill me so good sir, so... so fucking good."

you lick up his neck, tasting his sweat, and get your tongue in his mouth again. your hands grab his ass-cheeks and squeeze them, helping him move up and down faster. he groans into you with every landing, and you feel his dick leaving precum over your abs.

"you're perfect," you gasp inbetween kissing, he hides his face in your shoulder, and you start thrusting upward, "so perfect baby, i'm gonna fuck you so good."

he cries out with your thrusts, his hands clenching your shoulders. he throws his head back, loudly moaning your name. you swear and shift him forward, getting him to lay on his side and hook his leg over your shoulder, getting on your knees to keep thrusting.

he grabs hold of the sheets by his head, his eyes closed and mouth hanging open, struggling to breath and moan at the same time. you huff, sweat dripping down your back and chest, but force your muscles to keep fucking him. you grasp his stiff cock and begin to stroke him, but he slaps your hand to get it off.

"no just-" he moans, "keep fucking me! wanna cum on your cock, j—just your cock!"

"Peter," you groan, your thrusts make his chest bounce upward, his abs sweaty and nipples perked up.

his cock keeps leaking uselessly, and you grab his other leg to get it on your shoulder, leaning him further on his back into a mating press. his eyes open as you do, teary-eyed and struggling to focus.

"cum in meee," he whines.

you swear, getting your feet on the bed, legs spread for more purchase. driving your cock harshly into his cunt has him moaning so loud the neighbors are probably hearing this, loud slapping noises emit from your hips colliding with his ass.

another few thrusts and your resolve is breaking down, your balls tightening approaching that point, you feel covered in sweat and have the biggest boner of your life.

"i'm close baby," you groan, "you want my nut? you wanna get pregnant?"

"yes!" he squeals, "cum in my pussy, knock me up! make me yours!"

your groans grow louder, your thrusts getting sloppy yet harder.

"i'm cummin' i'm cummin!"

with a final push, his walls squeeze you and you start cumming inside his ass. you press your forehead into his, forcing your eyes open to watch him feel rope after rope creampie him. it lasts for the longest seconds of your life, so much cum it starts spilling out around your cock.

“ha fuuuck i’m cumming! i’m cumming from my pussy daddy!” he screams, his hole clamping onto you, you feel his cum spill out onto his stomach between the two of you.

struggling to get back to earth from your high, you huff, and collecting his legs again in your arms you keep fucking him through his anal orgasm, his hole even more messy and loudly squelching with your load.

"i'mma fuck this load so far inside you, you'll really get pregnant," you growl.

he gasps and moans, nodding dumbly. your cock is overstimulated, your legs shaking with the effort and your core tired from all this movement. but you think of his orders for how many loads he wants and fire starts in your chest, your dick pumping up to go again.

"holy shit, you're so hard again!" he cries, you let his legs go down and he spreads them.

you lay your hand down, use the other to cup the side of his face, wiping more tears with your thumb. you groan, and have to lean back and pull out with a wet sound. he exclaims with your cock leaving, and you slowly stroke yourself to his creampied pussy, letting the sensitivity leave your dick.

he mumbles your name, his eyes blinking open, "keep, fucking me..."

"hold on baby," you breath, "i'm coming back, get on your knees for me, show me that hole.”

he swallows, moving over to get on his knees, he arches his back and lays his chest flat, his knees spread and presenting his fucked ass to you. you swing your dick a bit, getting up on your knees to smack it against his ass earning a cry from him. then you grab his shoulder with a hand and insert your cock back in, his head springs up as you do and he whines.

you huff and grasp both of his shoulders, quickly getting into another rhythm of fucking him hard, trying to aim your cock downwards to really press his prostate. his head bobs with your thrusts, his back covered with sweat, you can't get enough of how his ass bounces with your thrusts. or how sweet his moans are. you really feel on cloud-nine having the boy of your dreams like this, completely and totally.

his body is limp in your arms and you hold him to steady to receive your thrusts, the room smells completely of sex and sweat. you spot the dildo he was using earlier out of the corner of your eyes, and getting a wicked idea grab it by the base. you hold it to the front of his mouth, and without words or hesitation he sucks it in with a moan, eyes closed in bliss. his dildo sinks into his throat and your cock pounds him from behind, you feel his hole clench with the addition of the dildo, his swinging cock flinging cum on your thigh.

you hold the dildo down his throat to the base, holding it there for a moment before he gags and it comes back up wet. you smack his ass and pull out, moving over to his mouth. he looks up at you hungry and expectant, and compliantly you present your cock to him, he grabs it with one hand and quickly begins to deep throat it, straight from his ass. you feel your eyes roll involuntarily, and reach around him to sink his dildo inside of him. his moans vibrating your cock make you think the second load will come quicker.

he holds your thighs face fucking himself on your cock, as you grind and push the dildo in his ass. the view is crazy, his face pushed between your legs, his back and butt below you. his skin glistens, and your roughly hold the dildo with both hands to fuck him, your hips moving into his mouth, solo spit-roasting Peter. you feel a big wave of vibration around your cock, his ass grinding back onto the dildo. you feel that sweet release approaching again, keeping one hand on the dildo to grab his hair.

“ha, your meal is ready, FUCK!”

its beyond static as your second load fills his throat, eyes squeezing shut as your orgasm grabs hold of you. he drinks it all, his throat guzzling around your length to swallow the load. you keep swearing loudly and push the end of the dildo further inside him.

as your orgasm ends he pulls off with a gasp, letting you look in his mouth to find it spotless. you swear and groan.

“shit, you’re gonna drive me crazy baby.”

his smiles, and slowly strokes your cock, “heh… i fucking came from that, wow.”

Peter’s expression is still so happy, and sweet, your cock stirs again with the juxtaposition of how sluty he is.

he moves your hand off the dildo to drag it out of him with a low whine, turning over again sluggishly onto his back, picking his legs up.

"o—one more, promise," he says in a low breathy one.

you gulp and stroke yourself to get harder, shuffling forward on tired knees and with a sore dick. but you sink inside his gaping hole, slotting yourself in completely with a sigh, he wraps his legs around your waist and his arms around your shoulder, a dopey grin on his face. you feel your bodies slot together perfectly, his hair is tousled and messy, his skin blemished with hickeys, you move at a gentle pace, thrusting deeply, pressing soft kisses into his cheek and neck. he whispers your name over and over, as if lost in a dream completely of you. you meet his eyes and kiss him deeply, rocking yourself into his body, sleepy but determined to do everything to blow his mind. you kiss down his neck and his chest, placing your hand on him to hold him down as you rise up, gazing at his face. he seems more bashful like this, taking your time to really make love. your head is full of him, everyday maybe, could be like this one—well less rough, even if he is stronger than you thought you want to pamper him, give him princess treatment?

"d... don't stare." he covers his eyes with the back of his hand, lips pursing.

you smile, lean down to kiss his wrist and gently pull them away, "why? you're beautiful."

his eyes pull with tears more emotional than before, he cups your face in his palms, his eyes searching your expression for something.

"you don't think i'm like, gross?" he asks in a whisper.

you shake your head, trying to keep a smile from breaking, "nah, we're perfectly kinky together i'd say."

he laughs, that grin breaking out like the dawn, "i'm tired, s—stroke me?"

you nod and go back to kissing his neck, taking hold of his member with a hand and matching your thrusts as you move your hand over him. you pick up slight speed, angling your hips upward, he moans softly, eyes closed and smiling. his legs are wrapped around you tightly, your core flexing as another release approaches. he gasps and squirms a little, you lift up a bit to watching his abs flex and his cum spurt out onto him, you slow your strokes to milk the last drop. your own release is right behind him, you pull out to jack yourself but Peter takes hold of it with both hands and massages up and down. you moan and roll your head, your eyes landing back on him, taking in the curves of his body, the muscles, his shoulders, his face, that face you've stared at for hours, will stare at for longer. you gasp as your build up climaxes.

"Peter!" you gasp, “i fucking love you,” your cum shoots out over his face and neck, more spilling down his chest.

he keeps moving his hands over your cock, getting all of your cum onto him. you stutter and a shiver runs down your spine, your abused cock leaking all the cum you have left. he drags his hands down your length and lets go at the end, wrapping his arms around you to drag you down for another kiss, light and airy, you both giggle. spent and sweaty and sore everywhere.

“i love you,” he whispers in reply, you hide your face in his shoulder, cuddling together in your mess.

you groan, "we've got to shower."

"mmh," he kisses your temple, "later."

[dontpulloutman]

we did the thing!

singer!yn x lewis pullman a/n: the semester is DONE i have roughly a month to completely brainrot over lew (and co.)

(masterlist)

liked by pascalispunk, marvelstudios, and 2,843,838 others

yourinstagram we did the thing!🤵‍♂️💍👰‍♀️

a few weeks ago, i gained the privilege to say that i married my best friend. (guys!!! that's my husband in the fourth pic!! isn't he so dreamy 😍) surrounded by family and our closest friends, we shared our vows.

my publicity team told me to write a meaningful message about how i'm overjoyed and thrilled, and don't get me wrong, i AM but MY HUSBAND is currently cooking breakfast shirtless and he's distracting me so like...

brb,

Mrs. LJ Pullman

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anniehoax GIRL.....

florencepugh congrats again you two! 😂❤️ tell Lewis to take it easy on you 😂😂

l0vedstory ON MAIN??? ON YOUR MAIN ACCOUNT?!1??1!

dannyramirez Already preparing for future godfather duties! 😂🍼🍼

sunriseblvd a few weeks ago??? how long is their honeymoon??? a whole year????

yourinstagram yep sunriseblvd WHAT THE FUCK babieonboard YN???????? yourinstagram im just kidding

yoyogeraldine CONGRATS TO MY PARENTS I LOVE YOU GUYS!! 💘🎉🎉

ynmom Welcome to the family (forever and officially) Lew! ❤️

yourinstagram we love you momma! xx sentryybob "we" as in ... yn and lewis? MY HEART

ynsister ugh ure so cringe pls delete (i am SO ready to be an aunt ty ily)

yourinstagram 😜 (you would be the best aunt ever!! i love you too)

floydwso ITS SO OFFICIAL YN'S FAM AND FRIENDS ARE POSTING ABT THE WEDDING TOO

liked by yourinstagram, and 12,849 others

ynsister so... they did it! they finally got married! (yn don't cancel me for this) ten years ago, i remember waking up at 2am because my sister wont stop calling me. i was half-dead/half-asleep from college but that would never stop me from picking up one of her calls. i REALLY thought there was an emergency.....

she's calling because she met a guy. "super cute. in a nerdy way you know i can't resist" IN VERBATIM BTW ... the way she gushed about him.. you would think they've known each other for 20 years (she literally just got home from the party they met at) imagine my surprise when they take YEARS to finally get together!! these jackasses!! THEY PISSED ME OFF SO MUCH THEY GOT ME SO STRESSED med school who???? (naturally, in the same call, she plays the song she's writing about him) anyway...

yn, you're the best sister anybody could ever have. you're the smartest, funniest, most annoying person in my life and i love you everyday. i'll really miss sharing the same last name with you.

to my older brother lew, i know that there's nobody in this world that can love her the way you do. please take care of her. she's my sister, and one of the people i love most in the world. you said it yourself, "happy wife, happy life"... have those fruit snacks ready at all times HAHAHAH here's to more memories! :)

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yourinstagram STOP YOURE GONNA MAKE ME CRY i love you so much, lil sis <33 see you soon

ynmom Are these the 'outtakes' of your maid of honor speech?

ynsister yes :(

taglist: — feel free to comment or send an ask to be added! :) @pearlstiare @yesshewrites1 @secretkittydreamland @greengoldhorns @menrsluts @fandom-geek17 @ashaluuler @homiesexual-or-homosexual @naushtheaspiringauthor @lizzie8878 @ae-aeitch

[myrleius]

what remains when the sound fades — bakugo k.

timeskip bakugo k. x patient fem!reader│wc: 3.8k

synopsis: Bakugo’s almost deaf now. But at a hospital he never meant to care about, with a girl who falls asleep without warning, he learns that maybe silence isn’t the end.

cw/tags: fluff, angst, hard of hearing!bakugo, made-up illness for fem!reader, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers

The doors slid open with a sound Bakugo couldn’t quite hear anymore. He just felt the pressure shift in the air, a faint vibration under his skin. 

He stepped into the hospital lobby anyway, hands buried deep in his hoodie pockets, shoulders drawn tight beneath the fabric.

No appointment today. No injuries or bruises to patch up either. But somehow, this visit felt heavier than the others combined.

His boots tapped against the polished tile—at least, he assumed they did. These days, sound was more of a memory. His hearing aids buzzed softly in his ears, letting in pieces of the world like light through cracked glass. Voices blurred, distant and muddled. Sharp one moment, swallowed the next.

He still wore them though. Most days. When he remembered.

He stopped by the reception desk. The nurse glanced up, clearly recognizing him. Pro-hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite wasn’t exactly subtle, even in civilian clothes. 

He didn’t bother speaking.

Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a slightly wrinkled sticky note—bright yellow with a tiny inked flower blooming in the bottom corner. Yn had given it to him months ago, back when he'd muttered—half ashamed—how much he hated asking people to repeat themselves.

The message was simple:

Hi. I’m hard of hearing. Can you write things down for me, please?

He held up his phone next, showing a photo of yn—caught mid-laugh, paint smudged on her wrist, eyes shining with something quiet and untouchable.

The nurse smiled gently and scribbled something on a notepad, turning it toward him.

She’s on the third floor. Art event today.

He nodded his thanks and made for the elevator, the paper note folded carefully back into his pocket.

As he waited for the elevator doors to open, he let himself replay the conversation from this morning.

“I’m losing my hearing,” he’d said, blunt and brief. “It’s almost gone.”

He expected disbelief. Or pity. Or those strained silences people always gave when they didn’t know what to say.

But it didn’t come.

Kirishima just slammed a hand on his shoulder, grin bright and unwavering. “Damn, man. That’s rough. But you’re still gonna kick ass, right? You’ll figure it out. And if you need backup, we’ve got you.”

Kaminari blinked, then leaned forward, curiosity overtaking any hesitation. “Wait, so does this mean you won’t hear me when I’m being annoying? Sweet—uh, I mean, not sweet, but—can I learn sign language just to mess with you?” He grinned, dodging the half-hearted swipe Bakugo took at him. 

Sero snorted. “Dude, you already ignore us half the time. What’s the difference?” When Bakugo glared, Sero held up his hands. “Kidding, kidding. But seriously, if you ever need us to repeat shit or write stuff down, just say the word.”

Mina didn’t miss a beat. “Okay, new rule. We’re all taking sign language classes. Also, don’t think this gets you out of game night. We will mime everything if we have to.”

And Deku—the one who’s known him longest, who’s seen him at his worst and his best—didn’t even flinch. His eyes remained steady, analyzing, before he nodded once. “You’ve already been adjusting, haven’t you? The way you’ve been positioning yourself in fights, relying more on visuals…” Of course he noticed. “You’ll still be one of the best. And… if you want help finding resources, or training workarounds, I’m here.”

No one stiffened. No one treated him like he was broken. And that hit harder than he’d thought it would.

And now, standing alone in the quiet of the hospital, he wasn’t sure if it made the weight in his chest had eased or fucking doubled.

The elevator dinged.

He stepped inside, pressed the third-floor button, and leaned back against the wall. He wasn’t here for anything urgent. Wasn’t even sure what he planned to say.

He just… needed to see yn.

They’d met a few months ago when his hearing started going to shit. She was always here, a familiar figure in the waiting rooms and hallways, worn hospital bracelets like second skin. At first, she was just a girl with the tired eyes and bright laugh who somehow made the place feel less suffocating. 

But she was more than that. 

She understood, really understood, what it felt like when your body turned against you.

He hadn’t expected to find someone like that in the middle of this nightmare.

Yet there she was. Her presence, gentle and steady, made it easier to breathe. She didn’t pry. Didn’t talk just to fill the silence. And she knew exactly how to sit with this kind of slow pain that didn’t have clean answers.

But when he needed it most, she always seemed to know what to say to help him hold his shit together.

The doors open, scattering his thoughts like startled birds. Before he could gather them again, his feet carried him out.

The third floor was loud.

Not in sound—Bakugo barely caught snippets of laughter and the thuds of feet—but in color, in motion. The hallway was lined with drop cloths and plastic sheets taped across the walls and floor. Furniture had been pushed back. Paint buckets sat open, and kids ran by waving paintbrushes like flags.

It smelled like wet acrylics and masking tape.

Bakugo didn’t need to ask who was responsible.

“Hey! No paint in anyone’s eyeballs, got it?” came a voice from further down the hall. “We want windows, not lawsuits!”

He turned the corner just in time to see yn balancing a tray of mini palettes, swerving between kids and elderly patients like it was a practiced dance. A brush was tucked behind her ear. Paint dotted her sleeves. Her smile was effortless.

And then her eyes met his.

She brightened instantly. “Bakugo,” she called, walking over. “You don’t have an appointment today, right?”

Bakugo shook his head and signed stiffly, fingers sharp with feigned disinterest, “Had extra time. Figured I’d see what you’re up to.”

Yn didn’t miss a beat. She was fluent by now, between her own years in this hospital and months of chatting with him.

“Oh, so you missed me,” she signed back with a cheeky grin, handing him a clean smock. “Got it.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t refuse it. He slipped it on, its sleeves straining around his biceps, while surveying the windows. Every one of them, long panes stretching the whole corridor, was already a riot of color—splashes of sky blue, cartoon suns, stick figure heroes, one ambitious mural of a dragon and a bakery somehow mashed together.

“What the hell is all this?” he asked aloud this time.

Yn adjusted her stance, instinctively positioning herself so he could see her lips, just in case he hadn’t caught her words. They’d practice this enough that she didn’t even think about it now. 

“Window canvases,” she said. “They’re replacing the glass soon, so I asked if we could paint on them instead of just throwing them out. Figured it’d be good fun for the others. Plus, my friend’s gallery agreed to exhibit them, so they get recycled and displayed. Cool, right?”

Bakugo folded his arms. “Let me guess—you bribed the staff, didn’t you?”

“Hey! I got permission from the hospital director,” she said, wiggling her fingers. “Now quit stalling and help me out.”

They spent the next hour darting between stations. Yn played the ringleader—passing out fresh brushes, hyping up shaky stick figures like they were masterpieces. Bakugo kept a closer eye, steadying ladders, pulling kids away from spilled paint, reminding a particularly rowdy pair of teens not to paint each other’s faces again.

It was loud. It was uncoordinated. It was a mess.

And it was… nice.

He wasn’t giving orders or chasing down villains, but he could still do something here. Still be useful.

One of the older patients tugged on his sleeve, holding up a brush. She pointed to the top corner of her window, then mimed her arm not reaching.

Bakugo didn’t even hesitate. He grabbed a chair, climbed up, and filled in the empty corner with simple strokes of yellow.

When he stepped back down, the woman gave him a toothy grin and signed, slowly but clearly, “Thank you.”

He blinked. Then nodded, almost sheepishly.

Yn watched it all with a warm, quiet smile.

By the time the last of the patients shuffled off to their rooms, the floor had fallen quiet.

The sunset bled through the painted windows in long, glowing streaks. Everything was bathed in amber. Where once there was sterile white, there was now a wash of color—skies, forests, tiny heroes flying beside flowers, scrawled messages of hope and names written with confidence.

Bakugo stood at the center of it all, arms folded, head tilted back. Even the ceiling had caught a few stray splashes. The low hum of his hearing aids filled the silence, a steady static he’d grown used to. Tonight, it felt less like noise, and more like… presence.

Yn drifted to his side, her shoulder nudging his.

“Think they’ll let me do this again next year?” she asked, voice light and teasing.

Bakugo huffed. “Not if they see what you did to the walls.”

“They’re covered. Mostly.” She gestured to the plastic sheets still clinging to the walls, though tiny paint splatters had seeped into the creases. “Besides, they're repainting the whole floor anyway. I just… sped things along.”

He shook his head, a low laugh slipping out despite himself. He glanced over. Her hair clung to her forehead, cheeks flushed, fingertips stained in streaks of color. Despite the exhaustion weighing on her shoulders, triumph sparkled in her eyes.

“You did good,” he signed. Hands slower than usual, but sure.

She didn’t hesitate to sign back. “You helped.”

He looked away at that. His hand twitched at his side before he shoved it into his pocket.

A moment passed.

Then another.

“I… told them,” he muttered, more to the empty hallway than to her. Fuck if he knew why. Maybe just to prove it mattered. “The other heroes. Told ‘em I can’t hear for shit anymore.”

Yn didn’t react. She just waited, giving him space to let it out.

Bakugo stared out at the windows, jaw tight. “I didn’t think I’d be able to say it. But I did. Told ‘em I’m still learning sign, still working on reading lips. But I’d still… probably need someone to help interpret if my aids crap out. Might miss shit or mess up.”

A pause. And his throat worked again. “I didn’t expect them to—to take it so well. Just an, ‘Okay. We’ll adjust.’ They didn’t even look at me like I was broken.”

Yn’s hand settled on his shoulder, the touch feather-light. “Because you’re not.”

“But I’m slower now. I can’t do the same field work. Can’t hear civilians shouting. That used to fuck with me so much.” He exhaled sharply. “But they said they’d work with me. That they’d adapt or whatever.”

“Then that’s their call,” she said, shrugging. “They know what they’re signing up for. And they asked you to stay anyway.”

His gaze flicked to hers. Something tight and uncertain lingered beneath the surface.

“You ever think people say that shit just to be nice?” he asked, voice scraping low. “Like, they believe it now, but deep down, they still think you’re… a liability?”

Yn paused, thoughtful. Then tilted her head. “Would you?”

Bakugo blinked. His mouth twitched. “Fuck no.”

“Then why assume they would?” she asked, sliding her hand down his arm to catch his hand. “They’re not stupid, Bakugo. They’re pros. They know what a liability looks like. I don’t think they’d risk the safety of people on someone they didn’t believe in.”

His brow furrowed, mind scrambling to find the flaw in her logic. There had to be one.

As if sensing his spiral, she cut through with quiet certainty. “You’re not weak, Bakugo.” The word landed deliberately, dismantling his unspoken fear. “You’re just changing. That doesn’t diminish who you’ve always been.”

Bakugo was silent. He let her words sit, feeling its weight. Then, slowly, his hand turned, fingers lacing with hers.

“I just… I get scared,” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “Not about being deaf. About being fucking useless.” His thumb brushed her knuckle, an unconscious plea. “I thought it meant I was done. That I couldn’t be a hero anymore.”

“You’re not done. You’re just learning a new way to fight,” she said, her voice was softer but the steel beneath it never wavered. “And if anyone’s stubborn enough to make it work? It’s you.”

She leaned in until their shoulders touched, forcing his gaze up. “Imagine it—first deaf hero in the charts. Kids with hearing loss seeing someone like them up there.” Then her smile widened, teasing again. “Unless… you’re actually considering retirement?”

He snorted, real and unguarded. “No fuckin’ way.”

“Then you’re not done.” Her tone left no room for argument. “Because you get to decide that.”

Her words sat in his chest like a live wire.

Bullshit. 

Heroism was supposed to be hard. He'd welcomed that—the broken ribs, the sleepless nights, the impossible choices. But this wasn't another challenge to overcome. It was a permanent fucking handicap. Deafness wasn’t an enemy he could punch. It was a door slammed in his face.

But.

His hands flexed against his thighs. The same hands that had once sparked with explosions now knew the shape of signs. The same body that had lunged into battle without hesitation now calculated angles, light, vibrations—workarounds.

Was that weakness? Or just another fight?

The hospital hallway stretched too bright, too quiet. He could still see the other heroes’ faces when he’d told them. No flinching. No whispers. Just nods, quick adjustments. They planned to work around it. Like pros. Like equals.

Bakugo slowly felt the warmth of her hand then.

He gritted his teeth. Fuck. A long-buried memory resurfaced—one he’d almost let slip away.

Heroism wasn't about perfection. It was about persistence. About dragging yourself through hell with whatever pieces you still had, just to keep the light in others’ eyes.

A breath shuddered out of him. Fine. Fine. If the world wanted to count him out over something like this, they’d learn the same damn lesson they always did.

Because Katsuki Bakugo didn’t lose. Not to villains. Not to fate.

And definitely not to himself.

He breathed out slowly. His heart beat steady in his chest.

And then, with absolutely no warning, he reached out and ruffled her hair with excessive vigor, fingers combing through the strands just to wreck them completely. 

“The hell?” he asked, voice full of forced insult, but his touch was gentle. “Since when did you get smart enough to say shit like that?”

Yn squeaked, batting his hand away. But she didn’t move far. Because she felt it, too—the way his hand hovered for a moment too long. Shaking, not from strain, but from everything it took to admit he was scared.

She could’ve called it out. Could’ve gone soft. Instead, she smirked and poked his cheek. “Says the guy who needed me to spell it out for him,” she fired back.

He scoffed, but his hand lingered, sliding from her hair to cradle her cheek. His thumb traced the curve of her cheekbone—lighter than his usual rough handling, but just as deliberate. 

“Yeah,” he admitted, voice dropping to something dangerously close to tender. “Guess I needed that.”

He barely heard it, but he saw her breath hitch.

“Oi.” His squint was all mock-suspicion as his thumb brushed the flush spreading across her skin. “The hell's this, huh? Sunburn?”

“Shut up.” She tried to twist away, but his grip shifted to her chin, holding her in place.

“Ain't wearing makeup,” he mused, leaning closer. “So unless you're running a fever—”

“I swear to god—”

“—must be me.” The smirk in his voice was audible. “Damn. That's embarrassing for you.”

She huffed, but didn’t pull back this time. Instead, her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, right over his chest.

The light from the painted windows spilled across her face just then, making her eyes look like they were glowing. Blue paint smudged her cheek, a messy contrast to the red flush beneath it. And her lips, damn it, they looked so soft. So inviting.

He’d imagined this. More than he’d ever admit. Would she go all soft and sigh, feeling warm like her hugs or laughter? Or would it be all teeth and fire, like when she’d snap a comeback with that infuriating grin, leaving him itching for more? God, either would ruin him.

Bakugo leaned closer, their noses brushing. “Hey… I’ve been thinking—”

And then her body tipped.

His reflexes moved before his thoughts did.

He caught her easily, arms looping around her middle as her knees buckled. Her head dropped lightly against his chest, her weight sudden but familiar.

“Shit,” he muttered, adjusting her in his hold.

Her breathing was soft, even. Completely out like a light.

Right. Her sleep spells.

She’d explained them the first time it happened—some kind of neurological disorder with no warning signs or real triggers. One moment she was awake, the next she was out cold, collapsing like a puppet with cut strings. She’d joked that her brain had a faulty “off switch.” Nothing dangerous, just… inconvenient. That’s what she called it.

But it still scared the hell out of him every time.

“Ruined the moment, idiot,” he mumbled, brushing her hair back.

She didn’t respond, obviously. Just nuzzled unconsciously into his chest like she always did when this happened.

Bakugo sighed and looked around.

The hallway was empty. Lit gold. Quiet

He stood there for a long minute, holding her steady, his heartbeat slow in his ears. Her weight wasn’t heavy. Just… warm.

This wasn’t the kind of saving he was used to.

No villains. No collapsing buildings. No flash of cameras or crowd roaring after.

But maybe… that was okay.

Maybe saving people wasn’t always about being the strongest. Sometimes, it was holding someone when they fell. Watching over a hallway of kids so they could paint suns. Catching a brush before it hit the floor.

He looked back at the art. 

At the handprints. 

The names. 

The hope.

Bakugo exhaled.

Yeah. He could still be a hero like this, too.

When yn woke up, the first thing she noticed was the dim lighting. It was night outside, the curtains pulled but still faintly glowing at the edges. The overhead light cast a soft halo around the room—just enough to see by.

The second thing she noticed was the dry taste in her mouth and the dull ache in her back, which meant she’d been out for a while.

The third thing she noticed was the very broad figure slouched in the chair beside her bed, arms crossed and chin tucked low against his chest.

Bakugo.

He was fast asleep. His hearing aids were out and tucked into a little case on the table beside her water cup. His hair was messy, a smear of green paint still streaking one forearm like a leftover memory of the day.

Yn blinked at him, a slow warmth blooming in her chest.

“You could’ve gone home, dummy,” she whispered.

He didn’t respond. Of course not.

She pushed herself up slowly, limbs stiff but cooperative.

The motion must’ve stirred him, because Bakugo’s eyes cracked open a second later. Red, sleep-heavy, a little bleary.

He blinked, squinted at her. Then straightened with a quiet grunt, dragging a hand over his face. “You’re up.”

“Was I out long?” she rasped, reaching for the water.

He grabbed his hearing aids and slid them in. “Five hours.”

“Mm. That’s not bad.”

He gave her a flat look. “You missed dinner.”

She smiled, unbothered. “Worried I wouldn’t get my pudding cup?”

“I ate your pudding cup.”

She laughed. “You thief.”

“It was melting,” he said, smug.

She looked at him for a long moment.

The curve of his shoulders. The stupidly hot smirk. The stubborn warmth in the way he always stayed, even when it wasn’t convenient.

Then, she held her arms out with all the drama she could summon. “Pity hug. Now, you monster.”

He gave her a look—half amused, half exasperated—but stood up anyway and leaned down to hug her, arms looping around her waist like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her hands found the back of his neck, fingers toying lightly with the tips of his hair.

He didn’t pull away. Just rested his forehead against hers, eyes half-lidded and soft.

“Did I miss anything?” she murmured.

“Mm. Something pretty major,” he murmured back. “Life-changing, even.”

She chuckled. “Can I still experience it? Or was it a one-time thing?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said. “It’s a lifetime thing.”

Then he kissed her.

It wasn’t perfect. There was too much grinning, too many half-laughs between presses of lips. But it was good. Warm. A tiny pocket of peace carved out of everything else.

And then, it changed. Just a little. He leaned in again, his hand sliding lower, and lips parting with unsubtle intent.

Yn made a sound of protest, half chuckle, half warning, and pressed a hand to his chest.

“Hey,” she said, breathless. “We are in a hospital.”

“No one’s watching,” he muttered, cocky. “I’ll be quick.”

“Bakugo,” she warned, trying to look stern.

His grin went lopsided. “Be glad I waited ‘til you were awake. I was tempted earlier.”

She groaned. “Oh my god.”

But she was still tangled in him, still laughing, and he looked unbearably pleased with himself.

A knock at the door interrupted the moment—gentle, polite, and clearly a nurse’s way of saying wrap it up, Romeo.

Bakugo sighed dramatically. “There goes our chance…”

“Text me when you get home, all right?” she said, hand still on his chest, ignoring his whining.

He leaned in, kissing her forehead. “I can smuggle you out, you know.”

She flicked his arm. “Out. Go. Before they revoke your visitation rights.”

He laughed and headed toward the door, pausing just before he stepped through.

“Oh,” he added, glancing back over his shoulder. “By the way. You’re my girlfriend now. Just letting you know.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh. That’s it? No asking?”

He shrugged. “I figured the kissing made it pretty clear.”

She tried not to smile, but failed. “Fine. But you’re buying me pudding next time.”

“Noted.”

And then he was gone, the door clicking softly behind him.

Yn lay back against the pillows and let the silence settle.

Officially dating a half-deaf, overly-confident exasperating pro hero with a pudding problem.

Not exactly how she thought the day would end.

But it felt good. Solid. Like something she could lean into without fear of breaking it.

And even if he was a thief… At least he’d finally stolen something she’d wanted him to all along.

[becomingthecrone]

I've actually been thinking about something along these lines all week. (Trying to make a costume do something it Does Not Want To Do, and that I Do Not Have The Skill to make it do anyway.) I've figured out that I have two blocks to doing this: lack of space and lack of money.

Because every project has to count. Every piece has to come out right--I can't afford fabric for mock-ups, much less running the risk of fucking up expensive (to me) fabric or trim or whatever.

And I don't have the space to lay out fabric, set up a dress form, etc. When I sew, it's on my coffee table, my work desk, or the front half of the kitchen table. I'm constantly in a state of "doing the best I can" with ever increasing anxiety about fucking up and ever increasing frustration about things Not Working Right because the space isn't optimized.

But I just...never consciously realized this. I knew sewing stressed me out, and apparently somehow translated that to "You're bad at sewing, but you're never going to get better because you're lazy since everything you do is janky or half-assed in some way. So just get used to Things Being Terrible as the norm and accept that you don't deserve to grow in this skill or have nice things."

It's taken almost ten years of feeling shitty about sewing but DESPERATELY wanting to be able to (because I LARP, so costuming, but overweight means buying is *raspberry sounds*) for my brain to figure out that I have two very specific, very simple tangible things that I need to fix in order to actually be able to achieve that goal. And I wonder--how many other things do I denigrate myself about because my brain won't see the simple solution that would help?

Sewing pattern: this is NOT for beginners

Me, a beginner:

[kerryshifts]

hey, what do i do if it’s been so long and i still haven’t shifted? i’m losing faith in shifting… how do i even get it back? i really don’t know, and it’s making me sad :( i want to shift so badly...

faith means nothing. this is not a religion. this is how life works. you don’t have to believe in shifting to shift. you don’t have to believe in yourself to shift. you don’t have to believe others who talk about their experiences in their drs to shift. you can shift when you are in utter desperation. you are still shifting whatever you want it or not. and before you say "but for me shifting is only valid when it’s in my dr" well, then you are still shifting every second to your dr. even when you do not see it. even you are feeling like shit. even when you are about to lose it. it’s okay to be sad, and you can still shift. you don’t have to be all rainbows and unicorns.

and listen, you asked me. i will give you the answer i believe in. i will say to you what i think its the easiest way. i dont like to say “listen to 20 subliminals and affirm all day until you are going mad and meditate three hours and lay in bed for hours without moving or swallowing your own saliva” because i hate doing all that. it makes shifting feel like a performance, and that’s not what i stand for. so if you are tired to hear the same thing everytime, sorry. find someone else. (and because of a recent anon ask i got, i feel the need to say this: there's no point in asking if you are not going to do it anyway. so or you like what i say and do it or you just move on without complaining & hating on me in my asks).

you want to shift so badly? good. your desire is the thing that pushed you until now, not the time that has passed since the day you discovered shifting. the whole 'you want it so bad because you have already it in the future' saying? go by that. but your future is not far away, it's right here.

stop thinking about your past with shifting. what’s even the point in complaining and crying about it? ok. it happened. anyway, its going to be pointless when you're in your dr and you realize that time means absolutely nothing. really, all you do by complaining is just slapping yourself in the face over and over, but just mentally. let it go. think about now.

and now, again, your desire. you are here asking me how to do it after a long time, all because you want it so bad. so let me hold your hand while a say this, start with realizing that your desire, actually, worked. you did it. all of your emotions did you a favour, and you finally reached what you wanted so bad. you already shifted. you won the igaf battle. if the 3d is making you see your cr bedroom, it's just a delay. your mind already knows the truth, aka that you are in your dr now. your eyes are catching up. and even if it feels like a joke at first, persist. it doesn’t need to be 30 times for minute. you go through your day just knowing that your eyes are catching up with the rest of you.

saying that you still haven't shifted doesn’t do you any favours. by saying that you are feeding the delusional part of your mind that is making you think that you are not in your dr. which is, as i said, delusional, because you were always in your dr to begin with.

no because let’s be realistic here. what is 'fuck i still see my cr' doing for you?????

believing "nothing happens when i assume" is not helping you. the whole point of assumptions is that you make them. negative and positive. if you keep looking at the 3d as the final answer, then you didn’t assume shit in the first place.

you should not accept what you see. you are not accepting your cr. you decide what you want, you move on. if your 3d keeps showing you this cr, as i said, you just tell miss 3d that you don’t care and you do not accept her present. why would you think about it again again and again ??? that ain’t being secure of your assumptions. you say to your brain that its tricks are pointless because you are in your dr. and your dr is the one you accept and you see.

and honestly that’s it. shifting is not complicated. not when you don’t want it to be.

[yukioos]

How do you think Izuku, Bakugo, Kirishima and Denki would write a love letter anonymously?

they write a love letter to you, but anonymously

featuring izuku, katsuki, eijiro, denki

izuku midoriya

dear y/n,

i’m a little scared to face you in person, but you’ve changed my life. the way you advise people so easily and talk so sweetly makes me nervous. i think i’ve become a better person and fighter from your advice, as that’s what our teachers say to me. we don’t talk as much as i wish we did, but i want you to know you’re amazing. you’re so beautiful and kind, and i love how you help out everyone you can, putting others ahead of yourself. it’s noble, and i think you’ll be an amazing hero one day.

katsuki bakugo

y/n,

this is pretty fucking stupid of me to write, but you make me feel different, in a way i’ve never felt before. you distract me and it pisses me off, even when i’m in class or taking a test, you’re always on my mind. you make me screw up and i hate it. the way your hair is always perfect and the way you look at me pisses me off. i hate how you dress, and how you prance around so stupidly when getting new clothes. i don’t understand why you have to show everyone. why not just me or the girls? there’s no reason to show anyone else.

just stop being distracting.

eijiro kirishima

hey y/n,

just wanted to tell you that you’re super cool and pretty! i’m a little nervous to say who i am, so i’ll keep this anonymous, sorry! anyway, i really admire you and your character. you’re so smart, beautiful, powerful, and kind. i love how you’re always willing to help children in need or even people who come up to you, asking for favors. you’re probably one of the most humble and selfless people i know. i hope we become closer before graduation, or maybe we’ll intern at an agency together!

- your admirer!!

denki kaminari

hey y/n,

i just wanted to tell you that you looked so good today! that new hairstyle really fit you, and i noticed the little hello kitty hair clips you had too. the outfit was pretty cool too, i remember you got that shirt right after i told you about the store to get it from! thanks for helping the class with our homework too, i especially didn’t understand it or any of the concepts.

when i did the test later, i aced it! i never do good on tests, so thanks so much for helping me with everything. you’re so polite and kind to everyone you meet, and that’s probably the most attractive characteristic you have, at least in my opinion! of course, it’s not just your personality that i find appealing, but your beauty too! maybe it’s your eyes or the way you smile when you see something trinket in a store, i don’t know!

anyway, hopefully, we can hang out together when our schedules become less busy!

feel like katsuki’s letter would be mean asf but he’s still basically confessing!! i also think all the boys would be pretty clear about who they are, though sometimes unintentionally. i don’t think all of them would sign it or be like eiji, some would just keep the space at the bottom blank

[georgeclarkeys]

blue eyed bet pt 2 - george clarkey x reader

summary: you deal with the aftermath of finding out your boyfriend asked you out on a bet - 2.3k words

pt 1

i was struggling with this a bit, but the lovely @pretendyoucantseeme helped me brainstorm! so if you were fighting for your life waiting for this, go tell her thank you lololol. anyways this is the longest fic i have ever posted and i was mad when i wrote it so good luck!

hope y'all don't hate it!

-

Your head was pounding. After leaving George standing in the doorway of his flat, you called your best friend. She picked you up, and took you home, before letting you cry on her shoulder all night. That was four days ago.

You had been sulking in bed for four whole days. The curtains were drawn, there was an empty tub of ice cream on the nightstand, and you were under a weighted blanket. The lights were off, but the room was being illuminated by the dull light of the television. The scene in your bedroom looked like a cliche painting, depicting heartbreak in its most basic form. George had texted you. Chris had texted you. Both Arthurs had texted you. You could not bring yourself to reply to any of them, especially George, while you could still feel the ache in your chest.

A knock on your door pulled your attention away from the raunchy reality show on the TV. You made no effort to get up. Let them think I’m not home. The knock sounded again, a bit louder this time. Fuck me, you thought, rubbing your puffy eyes. You hauled yourself out of bed and threw on the nearest sweatshirt, not bothering to deal with the birds-nest situation on top of your head. The person at the door knocked again. 

“Fucking shit, I’m coming! Damn!” You yelled out, growing irritated. As your hand touched the door knob, you had a realization and paused.

“If your name is George Clarke, go away,” you spoke to the person through the door.

“My name is not George Clarke,” the unmistakable, muffled voice of Chris Dixon replied.

Cracking the door open in shock, your eyes landed on Chris. He looked tired, you could see it in his eyes and slightly disheveled hair.

“What are you doing here?” You questioned, trying to scrub the crusted tears off your cheeks with your hand. 

“(Y/N), no one has heard from you in four days. You are my friend. I needed to make sure you were at least alive, and I want to talk to you.”

You eyed him warily. He looked sincere, and there was a hint of desperation in his expression.

“Can I come in?” He asked you, gesturing slightly with his hand. 

You didn’t respond, but opened the door wider, allowing him to enter. You followed Chris to the couch, opting to sit in the chair across from him. You folded your hands in your lap and avoided looking directly into his eyes. 

“George doesn’t know I’m here,” he started, before pausing and taking a few minutes to gather his thoughts. “I wanted to explain myself, because you deserve to know what happened that night.”

You peered out the window, and focused on your breathing, “go on.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and interlocking his hands. His eyes were trained on the ground in shame, “I was not aware that you did not know about the bet. Obviously. I would like to start out by saying that you should have known a long time ago.”

He paused. You couldn’t move if you tried.

“George had noticed you early on, that night,” he continued. “He mentioned something offhand about the beautiful girl across the room, but no one really took him seriously. Arthur noticed when you started staring at George from the bar. Then, you started to leave. George was too shy to chase you down, so I offered him twenty pounds if he could get your number and ask you on a date. (Y/N) I swear on my life it was nothing malicious. We were not making fun of you, and I was not trying to be a dickhead. I was just trying to get my friend to make a move on the woman he had been sneaking glances at all night. I’m not trying to make excuses, what we did was wrong, but we all truly love and care about you. You deserved to know the truth.”

You curled into your chair, tucking your feet under you and placing your fist under your chin. You could feel Chris’s eyes on you but you kept your gaze firmly on the window. Your heart was about to beat out of your chest and your mind was racing with thoughts. 

One thought in particular emerged ahead of the others. Your lips were moving before you had a chance to consider your words.

“How is George?” You blurted out, the first words you had spoken since you sat down with Chris. 

He looked startled for a moment, but composed himself quickly. “He’s, uh, he’s not handling this very well. He misses you… wants to make things right.”

You cut your eyes back to Chris, making eye contact with him. He had given you some things to think about. “Thanks for stopping by, Chris.”

He pressed his lips together in a tight smile and rose out of his chair. You stayed put as he walked to the door, your eyes back on the window. The door squeaked as Chris opened it.

“(Y/N)?” He called, causing you to turn your head towards him, “I hope you know how sorry I am. Truly.”

You nodded as he shut the door behind him, leaving you alone in your thoughts once again.

Eventually, you lumbered back into your room. You were still trying to work through the information that Chris had given you, and pondering if it made a difference at all. Your phone lit up with a notification, grabbing your attention. It was just an email, but it reminded you of all your unread texts.

Picking up your phone, you took a deep breath and willed yourself to open the messages from George.

georgie <3 

Four days ago: 

(Y/N) I am so sorry please let me explain

I am the biggest idiot on the planet

Let me know you’re safe please

Three days ago:

(Y/N) please just tell me you made it home safe

I know you don’t want to talk to me, text Chris or Arthur or someone please I just want to know you’re safe

Two days ago:

I wouldn’t talk to me right now either. I will give you all the space you need. If you want to talk, please text me

You sighed, loudly, and brought your hand up to your mouth to chew on a fingernail. You love George, but was this something you could forgive? He had betrayed your trust in so many ways, and lied to you several times over the course of your relationship. Your mind began to wander, imagining the worst case scenarios. You needed answers: real answers. Answers that you could only get from George. Your fingers were dancing across the screen before you could talk yourself out of it.

send to georgie <3 ?

I want to talk to you. In person. Come to mine?

You pressed send and immediately set your phone face down, trying to control your nerves. He replied less than a minute later.

georgie <3 

I’ll be there in 20

Twenty minutes flew by, mainly due to your panicked cleaning and fretting over your appearance. For the second time that day, a knock sounded at your door. You took a deep breath before opening the door, but nothing could have prepared you for what you saw. 

George’s gorgeous blue eyes were dull, seemingly held up by the dark circles under them. The usually pristine, curly mullet was flat and lifeless. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept since the last time you saw him. In one of his hands he held a bouquet of pink stargazer lilies, your favorite flower. 

George ran his other hand through his hair, ruffling it, “These are for you. They're your favorite, right?” He lifted his arm, offering the bouquet of flowers to you. You blinked at him. He had brought you flowers a million times before, but this felt different, like it was more intentional. 

Your mouth twitched, not a smile but the ghost of one. “Thank you, George,” you spoke softly as you took the flowers out of his hand, “come, sit while I put these in a vase.” He nodded and made his way to the couch, ironically sitting in the exact same spot that Chris had chosen. His eyes lingered on you as you filled a vase with water and delicately placed the lilies inside. No one said a word.

You sat across from him, in the same chair that you did earlier. You were glad he brought you flowers, it gave you a minute to gather your thoughts.

“(Y/N), I-” he started, but you cut him off.

“No. I’m going first,” his eyes widened slightly but you continued. “George, I have never been as angry in my entire life than I am at you right now. I feel like you played me. You lied to me. You betrayed my trust. I’ve spent four days wondering if any of it was real at all.”

His face crumbled at the last sentence, but he did not interrupt you.

“George, I love you. I love you so deeply that there has been a real ache in my chest for four days. That is why I am willing to hear you out. So please, say what you came to say.”

His eyes found yours; melancholic yearning was written on his face. The eyes you loved to get lost in suddenly brought about a simple wariness in your mind.

“The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you,” he choked out, voice cracking with emotion. You longed to reach out and comfort him, but the walls you had built up kept you from moving.

“I am so sorry for not telling you about the bet, (Y/N). I should have told you on our first date, but I didn’t. I chickened out. You were so amazing, and we were having such a good time. I didn’t want to ruin it. Fuck, I should have told you that day.” He ran his fingers through his hair again; he was nervous.

“I don’t know how I can make this up to you, but I will do anything. I will get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness (Y/N).”

Your heart lurched, and a few tears trickled down your cheek, “George, how can I trust you? How can I trust anything you’ve ever said to me?”

He straightens his back, locking his gorgeous blue eyes on your teary ones. “Everything was real, (Y/N). I know you. I know you and I love everything about you. I know that you take your coffee with cream and just a touch of sugar. You write in your journal every morning while you drink it. I know that you love Indian food, but you’ll only buy it from that place down the street because you found out the owners are working to pay for their daughters' schooling.” 

Your tears were flowing freely now.

“I know you love animals,” he continued, “and I would never take you to a zoo unless conservation and rehabilitation were clearly part of their mission, because I know how passionate you are about it. I know that you scrunch your nose when you concentrate, and cry when you’re nervous. Your favorite flowers are pink stargazer lilies, and you only eat tomatoes if they’re in pasta sauce. You love it when I kiss your forehead, and hold your hand in crowded places. Every time you watch a new movie you end up crying because you get attached to the characters. You have so much love in your heart for everyone around you, even people who don’t deserve it, and strangers.”

You were sobbing at this point, feeling the intense emotion in his words. He moved off the couch, falling to his knees at your feet. “May I?” He asked, gesturing at your hands. You said nothing, but nodded your head, giving him permission to grab your hands. He held them softly, like he was scared of breaking you, and resumed his monologue. 

“(Y/N), I know you and I love you. I should have told you about the bet from the start. All I know is that it played no part in the real love I have for you. It stopped being a bet for me as soon as I started talking to you. There is nothing more real than my love for you. Please, give me another chance. Let me show you how much you mean to me.”

You squeezed his hands before releasing them. He looked defeated, but only for a moment as you grabbed his face and pressed your lips against his. There was no hesitation, he kissed you back immediately. The kiss was full of desperation and longing, like two pieces of a puzzle that had finally been brought back together. As your lips moved against his, you could feel the hot tears begin to slide down his face. 

You pulled back, breaking the kiss. Taking in the tear stained face of the man in front of you, still on his knees at your feet, you knew he meant every word he said. 

“I’m still mad at you,” you whispered, cracking a half-hearted smile, “but I’ll give you another chance, George Clarke. Please don’t break my heart again.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, darling,” he said back with a sincere smile. For the first time in four days, the stars were shining in his gorgeous blue eyes once again.

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | extra

rafe buying reader a gift at the gas station

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- C H . 1 7 | C H . 1 8 ->

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive themes and implications, awkward!rafe, cougar behavior from an older woman (age appropriate but still gross), mention of alcohol consumption (flashback), one-sided flirting, kinda ptsd!rafe lol, rafe going insane (again)

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 2.8k+

✿ A / N ✿ thx @wefelldowntherabbithole13 for requesting this. hope you guys enjoy this little extra and lmk what you think <3

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

// READ CHAPTER 17 BEFOREHAND IF YOU DON'T WANNA GET SPOILED

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

W E E K O N E // S A T U R D A Y 2 : 5 5 P M

Rafe was so close to ripping off the fucking gas cap of his fucking Benz because why the fuck wouldn't it close, HUH?!

Or better yet: why the fuck did this stupid shit piss him off so goddamn bad in the first place?

OH RIGHT. Probably something to do with how he’d just dropped you off in the fucking Cut, at that rat-infested shithole where his stupid sister and her loser rat friends always hung out.

FUCKING GREAT.

No. No, you hadn't exactly told him who’d be waiting for you there besides your loud-ass friend and some dude she apparently needed help with. Seriously, Rafe still couldn’t wrap his head around how you of all people were supposed to help her. You could barely grasp the concept of flirting—how the hell were you supposed to be of any help besides driving everyone in a five-mile radius absolutely insane with your crazy head?

Rafe exhaled. Finally punched the damn gas cap shut with his fist.

Knuckles throbbing, he rubbed at them, though it hurt less than his damn head.

Like, Jesus fucking Christ, that stupid-ass conversation you two had just minutes ago? Rafe didn’t even know how the hell he’d managed not to crash the fuck out. He deserved a fucking gold medal or trophy for keeping his cool and actually calming your crazy ass down.

And the best part? Not even a whole fucking minute after he’d defused the ticking bomb that was your brain, you were already ready to ditch him.

Seriously, was Rafe just some fucking joke to you?

Sure, yeah, okay, your friend had indeed called, and apparently you’d promised to hang out with her anyway today. But that wasn’t exactly a solid reason to dip immediately. You could’ve stayed just a little longer and… yeah. Done what, exactly?

Under different circumstances, it would've been late evening, and Rafe would've gone to your place because no way in hell was he bringing a girl around his nosy-ass family. And of course, you'd have the house to yourself—Rafe had zero interest in dealing with a random girl's parents (except that yours actually were pretty chill). You'd have giggled at the door, walked in, one thing would've led to another, and he'd have you moaning into the sheets. Or well, not moaning, considering at this point he’d rather shut you up and feel you choke on his—

Fuck, he really didn’t need to get hard at a damn gas station.

And yeah, just like with his occasional (!!!) hookups (again, he wasn't a fuckboy, alright?), he’d either crash at your place, too lazy to drive back, or show up at Kelce’s or Top’s, do a line, and pass out on the couch.

That’s it.

But those hadn't been the circumstances. It had been the middle of the fucking day, and Rafe knew better than to expect some quick fun with you. Hell, he’d be out of his fucking mind if he even tried making a move. You’d probably lose it, that whole exhausting conversation would start all over again, and even more likely: You’d freak the fuck out, dip, and that’d be the end of whatever the hell this was between you two.

Oh right, now there actually was a label. Apparently you were aiming for a friendship, or rather you thought he wanted one.

Cute, really. You two had barely known each other for, what, a week? Not even? And you’d already pressured him into deciding where things were going after the project because apparently, your brain needed to "make space for new people if they decided to stay" otherwise your anxiety would eat you up.

Aight.

Like, dude. Chill the fuck out for once. Why couldn’t you just live in the fucking moment for a second? But no, you had to constantly leap a thousand steps ahead and dissect every possible outcome.

You were literally the least chill person Rafe had ever met, and somehow, he still couldn’t bring himself to dislike you. How? He didn’t fucking know. Probably better if he never figured it out, because unlike you, he didn’t need every single answer to every goddamn situation.

Jesus Christ.

But yeah, sure, why not. Rafe loved collecting annoying people as his friends for a living. One more wouldn’t kill him. Bonus points to you, though, because for some fucked up reason, he actually had fun with you. Sometimes more than with Kelce and Top. And well, he didn't have the option to flirt with those two. But with you? Shit, it was his new favorite activity.

Which brought him back to the original question: What the fuck was Rafe supposed to do with a female friend?

Like, with Topper and Kelce, he’d hit the country club, hang out at one of their places, smoke some hookah, hit some beach bar or the gym.

Wait. On second thought—dragging you into the gym, you wearing tight leggings, squatting in front of him, and—

Rafe rubbed the bridge of his nose. He seriously needed to think of some other shit.

Another reason he desperately needed a fucking line right now. This whole situation—he was actually going insane.

First things first: pay for the goddamn gas.

The Benz gave two clicking sounds as Rafe locked it and headed into the station.

Good thing he’d driven back to the north side of the island. No way in hell he was about to get robbed by some cracked-out junkie at a Cut gas station where they probably laundered money and sold kidneys on the side.

“Pump Three,” Rafe said as he stepped up to the counter, eyes on his wallet, fumbling to get that fucking credit card out of the sleeve. Seriously, his patience was really being tested today.

“Oh, honey, what happened to your face?”

Rafe looked up—and his heart dropped.

Fucking shit. Not her.

Agatha Woods. 44, widow, Pogue, and the fucking woman Rafe had almost hooked up with last year at a bonfire party.

She’d been working the bar (which—let's be real—grown woman hanging out at a teenager party? Fucked-up), and Rafe had been doing shots one after the other with Top. And then Topper—holy shit, that was the party the idiot almost hooked up with your friend—dipped, and Rafe got left behind. And for some goddamn fucked-up unexplainable reason, he'd stayed at the bar with cougar Agatha and let her keep pouring him drink after drink.

Fucking shit, he'd been so wasted and desperate anyway because he'd dropped Gracie a week before and then there had been fucking Agatha with her triple Ds, her purring at him and fuck, Jesus Christ, his whole body literally tensed at the memory. His horny, almost-blackout self had almost followed her to her truck if Kelce hadn’t intercepted him.

Actually no, Rafe's entire skin was covered in goosebumps right now.

Shitshitshitshit. Just ignore her. She won’t remember. She probably pulls this shit on every guy who'd just celebrated his 18th birthday.

He shook his head and shrugged like it was no big deal, avoiding her eyes. “Golf club accident.”

Now Rafe was forced to meet her eyes, only because he was trying so fucking hard not to look down at her way-too-exposed cleavage as she leaned forward on the counter.

“I’m off soon, want me to take a look at that?” she said, fluttering her lashes in that sweet—actually, no, raspy smoker’s voice of hers.

Rafe kind of wanted to go back to Barry’s and let the guy shoot his brains out, because what the actual fuck. Why was he getting hit on by a woman twice his age? For the second time.

He just shook his head, letting out a tight chuckle. “Nah, I’m good. So, uh ... Pump Three.”

“I heard you just fine the first time,” Agatha said with a smirk, leaning back. “Just thought maybe you’d wanna pick up where we left off last time.”

Please just let me fucking pay. Holy shit.

Rafe gave a strained smile. “How much?”

Agatha chuckled. “Oh, sweetie, this is a gas station, not a brothel.”

What the—fucking shit, what?

His neck and cheeks were suddenly burning, and for a second he genuinely considered walking out and setting the entire gas station on fire, himself included.

Jesus Christ. This day was just getting worse by the goddamn second.

“I’m well aware,” he replied but his fucking voice cracked, and FUCKING HELL.

The hunting knives on the counter suddenly looked way too inviting, even though they were sitting right next to a blindingly pink stand full of glittery, oversaturated plastic bags with little rainbow-colored horses printed on them.

Okay. Seriously. The fucking universe—or whatever sick fuck ran it—was messing with him, because guess what was printed in bold letters on that stand?

Friendship Bracelets: Pick Your Pony, Share The Sparkle.

What. The. Fuck.

This had to be some serious joke. Hadn't he just made fun of the idea of making you a friendship bracelet a few minutes ago, just to shut you up?

“Four bucks.”

Startled, Rafe snapped his eyes back to the cougar, blurting out, “Huh?”

She laughed. “Looking at that thing with that big eyes of yours. You got a friend you wanna share the magic with?”

“Girlfriend, actually.”

The words had left his mouth before his brain could even catch up.

Shit.

Even worse than calling you his girlfriend in front of the cougar trying to bag him: he seriously considered buying one of the dumb bracelets.

See? This was your fucking fault. Riling him up with your psycho brain, then bouncing to Sarah’s rathole where she was most likely also hanging out. And now, here he was, about to buy you some glittery-ass children’s bracelet just to… fuck, he didn’t even know. Just the idea of you owning something he got you, it made his blood rush in a way that genuinely concerned him.

Well. One upside to the sudden topic shift: Agatha was backing off, now that she thought he was taken. Just like he’d intended, of course.

Guess she has some standards, at least.

“All grown up now, got yourself a girl, huh?,” she said with a giggle. “You oughta invest in a real bracelet then. Ain’t no girlfriend gonna want some kids’ toy meant for little girlies.”

“Nah,” Rafe muttered with a frown, cheeks warm. “She’ll like it.”

You loved sending fucked-up, crazy-ass crackhead pics to express your emotions. You’d absolutely love some discolored, shitty plastic bracelet from some shitty-ass horse cartoon.

And the fact that Rafe even knew that fucking cartoon in the first place was reason enough to buy one of the hunting knives as well and end his misery right here. Wheezie used to watch that crap when she was younger. He remembered those smiley, ugly-ass horses now.

Nonetheless, Rafe stepped closer to the stand, scanning the different packages. Apparently, each bracelet was themed after one of those LSD-tripping ponies.

There—that one. The obnoxious blue one with rainbow hair. He hated that smug, loud, egotistical piece-of-shit horse. Friendship bracelet for the Rainbow Dash in your life.

Yeah, no thanks. He wasn’t putting that asshole on your wrist.

“You need help choosing?” Agatha asked with a chuckle. “Otherwise move that sweet little ass of yours. Got another customer waiting.”

Rafe furrowed his brows and moved to the side, trying his best to ignore the heat crawling up his chest. First thing he’d do once he got out of here was a fucking line in the car, because fuck this day.

Okay. So what shitty-ass horse should he even get you?

He remembered the purple one with the emo bangs and that dumb little dragon sidekick. Wheezie’s favorite. Twilight Sparkle the package read.

Jesus, how the fuck did they all have shitty names like that?

Then there was the pink one. Of fucking course, she was called fucking Pinkie Pie. Rafe remembered her being all over the place and screaming and bouncing and just... no. That bitch reminded him way too much of Kelce for some reason. Or your best friend. Which was basically the same thing. Hard pass.

The weird cowgirl-looking horse just looked straight-up ugly. No way he’d let you wear ugly shit like that. Plus, it gave off full-on Pogue energy, so yeah, fuck that too.

Which left him with two fuckers called Rarity and Fluttershy.

And for some reason, Fluttershy just... felt right. Rafe couldn’t explain it, but he knew that was the one. Soft colors, none of that oversaturated eyesore bullshit. And her smile on the packaging—kinda sweet, kinda shy (well duh, the bitch was called Fluttershy for a reason), and she just radiated your vibe. Quiet, soft, but like... deep (in thought about some unnecessary bullshit probably).

He even remembered her being eerily like you. Awkward, kind, and anxious.

Jesus Christ, why the fuck did he even remember that?

Rafe grabbed the package with a grimace. It read Friendship Bracelet for the Fluttershy in your life. He seriously questioned his fucking sanity as he dropped it on the counter.

“Oh, so you finally picked one,” Agatha said, scanning it in with a smirk and raising an eyebrow. “I’m just gonna assume your girlfriend’s of legal age.”

HUH WHA—FUCKING SHIT, EW.

The audacity of that woman to say that of all people.

Rafe smiled crookedly, holding up his card. “Listen, lady, I’m in a fucking hurry, alright?”

Agatha chuckled again, holding out the reader. “That’ll be 110.55 then.”

The moment the confirmation beep rang out, Rafe snatched the bracelet and bolted the hell out of that goddamn gas station slash cougar pit. Before he ever stepped foot in there again, he’d rather make out with a fucking Pogue or shoot himself in the face.

In the car, he dropped the plastic package along with his wallet and keys into the center console and slammed on the gas. He needed to get out of there before that cougar actually chased him down.

And then the overwhelming urge to just crash his car into the nearest wall or tree rose up because:

Did he seriously just buy a fucking horse bracelet for a girl who was driving him completely insane, which also had the most fucked-up brain he’d ever witnessed?

Oh, and the worst part? He knew damn well he wouldn’t get anything in return. No sex. No blowjob. Not even a basic makeout. Probably just some awkward little smile and a confused “Thanks". Worst case? Another fucking discussion about what this meant, what Rafe’s intentions were, whether he was just trying to get in your pants, blah blah blah.

And the most fucked-up, goddamn infuriating part? He didn’t even seem to mind.

Sure, if you'd show him your gratitude on your knees, he wouldn’t complain (shit, just the thought almost made him hard), but Rafe had pretty much (almost) accepted that nothing like that was ever gonna happen between you two.

And guess friends without benefits didn't do this kinda shit, right? Like, Top and Kelce basically fit into this category and he'd never in a million years...just fuck no, what. Then again, they didn't have tits and a cute ass like yours, so. And moreover, Rafe would never ever gift them a cringe-ass fucking friendship bracelet. And definitely not one week after getting to know them.

Shit. The bracelet wasn’t supposed to mean anything anyway. Rafe just felt like he needed to make his point clear one more time, once and for all because he had this gut feeling that words didn’t cut it with you. Two days from now, you’d be whining again because Rafe made some harmless flirty joke, and your fucked-up head would twist it into some manipulative scheme of him wanting to get in your pants.

So when he'd give you this dumbass bracelet, he’d make fucking sure you read what it said:

F-R-I-E-N-D-S-H-I-P Bracelet.

Unfortunately, the gas station didn’t offer a bracelet that read “For the girl I got stuck with in a school project, who I kinda wanna bend over but I'm also fine with not doing so, even though she’s batshit crazy and wants a label six days in for a FUCKING HANGOUT, and for reasons only God knows I’m still putting up with her shit and guess I'm her fucking friend now and buying her this crap just to shut her spiraling brain up AND to make it loud and clear I'm not toying with her crazy ass”.

Jesus Christ.

He was losing it. He was actually going insane.

And the only reason for it?

You.

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K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- C H . 1 7 | C H . 1 8 ->

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T A G L I S T F O R M (taglist for this series is CLOSED but you can sign up for my other stuff through this link)

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[bambamramfan]

Arguendo all the abstract bullshit for this, I expect there are many possible candidates.

Fuck, Schwarzenegger could have and arguably still could, if Congress could be convinced to waive that pesky natural born clause (which they *did* for McCain.) So let's just say every action star of his caliber - you don't even have to say "that hasn't already picked a side" because Ahnold *already had*, he just was willing to walk it back.

Elon Musk a few years ago would have been very viable (again, natural born shenanigans), so I think a large number of CEO's could qualify. Warren Buffet is over 90 years old and I'd vote for him. You sure things couldn't play out to a Zuckerberg presidency?

Why is TSwift less plausible than Reagan or Trump? Her persona may indeed be frivolous, but she herself has striking predatory intelligence and would be able to put that on display.

Tom Cruise has spent two decades distancing himself from Scientology, and by all appearances it has worked.

Maybe now is not the age of the athlete star, but if a major league coach wanted to take a shot at it, I really think they could. Tuberville sure did.

Nathan Fielder has tried very hard to remain a-political, and he's the one person who would make us ask "is this real, or an act?" even more than Trump was.

(It may not be a coincidence that when one comes up with a list of the most magnetic and intelligent people in America who did not enter politics, it is disproportionately foreigners.)

Anyway what I think you're really grasping at is Q Score. And we know the answers there:

Yeah I definitely buy Spielberg.

And that's not even getting into WWE.....

Let's imagine that you're trying to fix American politics by making a George Washington gambit, or perhaps a Dwight Eisenhower gambit.

Your goal here is to transcend our dysfunctionally-polarized moment by taking the two big political parties and smashing their heads together until they stop moving. You are trying to unite a supermajority of Americans behind a sane, stable, viable-consensus Middle Way - maybe through third-party shenanigans, maybe by hijacking and parasitizing the Republicans or the Democrats, whatever can be made to work.

Let's further assume - arguendo - that you have some good reason to think that you might be able to achieve this, given the right setup and the right resources. We don't need to have the argument over whether it's just a stupid idea from the get-go, that's not the point. (We also don't need to argue over what the sane stable viable-consensus Middle Way would actually be, in terms of policy prescriptions, branding, etc. Fill in your own favorite answer.)

You'll need a figurehead. A presidential candidate. Someone who can, in his person, stand in for the idea of "we're better than all this and we're actually going to set things to rights." Someone who won't immediately be treated as just another shill for the existing left/right.

A real American hero, ideally. Someone who seems like a good, trustworthy leader to as many voters as possible?

...any nominees?

Seriously. I mean it. Anyone at all? I'm coming up pretty short, and that fact scares me.

We tell jokes about God-Empress Taylor Swift (RIP @kontextmaschine), but of course that would actually be a bad idea for our project. She's popular, she might conceivably have the charisma and the intellect and the cultural-manipulation chops, but it doesn't matter; there's no escaping the fact that she's a pop star rather than anything else, and too many people would see her as inescapably frivolous. If she won, it wouldn't do the thing. Same goes for anyone else in the "celebrity performer" category.

War heroes are often good for this kind of role. Do we have any generally-accepted war heroes these days?

A scientist or high-culture artist might do. Are there any who are famous enough, and also not closely tied to an existing political faction?

I'd suggest "civil rights hero / activist leader" except that there are obviously none of those who aren't closely tied to existing political factions.

The best I can come up with on short notice is, like, Chelsey Sullenberger. Which is not super great.

(Admittedly I don't know enough about sports to say whether there's a sufficiently beloved-and-respectable athlete floating around. That would also be sort of an inherently weak choice, not much better than a celebrity performer and maybe even worse, but I can imagine really good spin doctors making it viable.)

[oldermenfucker]

Three’s a Crowd | J. Abbot & M. Robinavitch

Summary: Robby meets Jack’s new young girlfriend for the first time and his night takes a turn when the couple invites him back to their place.

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, threesome F/M/M, degrading!!!! rough sex, sub!reader, age gap, m/m, everyone is down bad for each other okay, oral (M), throat fucking, sir kink, breeding, it’s just hot chaos, kind of polyamory? Anyway yes, Poly!rabbot is a thing and we should invest in it more, English isn’t my first language<3

Word count: 4.4k+

an: soooooo this came out of this thot!!! Hehehehehe hope y’all enjoy it! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated🩷

“Tonight?”

  It is shocking, Robby thinks, that for the first time, Jack wants to introduce him to his girlfriend. All his previous relationships have been shallow and not worth even mentioning, so it truly catches Robby off guard when Jack comes on the day shift with his backpack thrown over his shoulder.

  “Yes, I showed her a picture of us and she got too excited to meet you,” Jack shrugs, slamming the locker door shut before he leans his back on it, looking at Robby patiently, “Can never say no to a pretty young girl like her.”

  “Jesus, she has you wrapped around her fingers already,” Robby rolls his eyes, zipping up his hoodie before dropping his stethoscope around his neck, “I don’t wanna impose. Besides, I’m not your dad to approve of your new girl.”

  “I don’t want your approval,” Jack scoffs, walking shoulder to shoulder with Robby inside The Pitt, “All I want is for you to join us for dinner. I’ve made the reservation, and I know she would love to meet you. So suck it up and come.”

  “Nope, not a chance—“

  “Listen, brother,” Jack stops Robby before they reach the central, “It’s been ages since you went out with…anyone. I’m not asking you to get naked and suck on her tits, I’m asking you to join us for a fucking meal. Maybe you’ll get laid if you step outside your goddamn house.”

  “I can get women in my bed alright,” Robby hisses, pointing at Jack with a glare, “Fine, if you so desperately want me to meet your girlfriend, then fine. But don’t set me up with any of her friends, you hear me? Just the three of us.”

  “Cross my heart, just us.”

  •••

  Robby has been at the bar of the restaurant Jack’s made the reservation at for half an hour. Half a fucking hour. They are late, and Robby’s first impression of Jack’s new girlfriend is already ruined. He hates unpunctual people, Jack knows that, so if he wanted his girl to meet Robby so badly, they should have been here on time.

  He nurses on the glass of Bourbon he has in hand, his sleeves already rolled up. He bounces his leg, chin resting on the back of his wrist as he swirls the liquid in his glass. He is all dressed up for this stupid evening; black button down with dark jeans, a watch on his left wrist, and perfume on.

  He is ready to get up and leave, call Jack, and cuss him out for wasting his time and pulling a prank on him. Robby knows it was wrong to come here in hopes of having a decent time with his friend.

  “Robby?”

  He slowly turns towards the familiar sound of his friend, a scowl forming on his face before he swallows as his eyes fall on you — a pretty thing hanging off Jack’s arm like a prize he has won.

  “Hey, brother,” Jack pulls him in for a hug, patting his back before he turns his eyes back to you to introduce you, “Meet my girl.”

  “Hi,” you extend your hand to Robby, grinning at him, “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

  “Likewise,” Robby shakes your hand, biting the inside of his cheek when he notices how you drag your eyes all over him, squeezing his hand when your gaze reconnects.

  You are pretty. He hadn’t seen any pictures before, only Jack’s praises and compliments, but even those words don’t do your beauty justice. He looks you up and down, noticing the tight black dress clinging to your body, the red lipstick proudly tinting your lips.

  You bat your lashes at him, almost looking pleased with yourself that you have him ogling at his best friend’s girlfriend, as if you have planned this.

  “Come on, I booked the table far from everyone,” Jack kisses your bare shoulder, hand spread over your waist as he leads you to the table, glancing back at Robby who is standing on his spot, clenching the hand you were holding a few seconds ago, “You coming?”

  “Yeah, yeah, right behind you.”

  He follows you to the table, running a hand down his face as he watches you take the seat between him and Jack, putting your purse on the table before crossing your legs, gazing at him as he sits down.

  “So,” you lean closer, chin resting on the back of your hand as you look between the two men, “How did you meet each other?”

  “I thought Jack had already told you,” Robby says, grabbing the menu, “Given how he told me you’re excited to meet me.”

  “I want you to tell me, Michael,” you smile, looking at him from under your eyelashes, “Can I call you Michael? Or should I go with Robby?”

  “Robby’s fine,” he doesn’t know he manages to get the words out of him. You must be a force to reckon with, probably how you have managed to charm your way into Jack’s heart. You know what you are doing to him, pushing his buttons and giving him those eyes.

  “I doubt it’s a story you’ll enjoy, doll,” Jack drags his knuckles over your bare arm, grabbing your hand to bring it to his lips. “Should we order wine? Make him loosen up a bit?”

  “Trying to wine and dine me?” Robby scoffs, “I don’t even know what I’m doing here, brother.”

  “You don’t have to do anything!” You reach out and put your hand on his while Jack laces his fingers through yours under the table, “Just enjoy your dinner with us. I promise I’m not some ditzy little girl trying to take your friend’s money.”

  “I never said you were,” Robby doesn’t make a move to remove your touch, he finds it quite nice, actually, the warmth your skin provides with the coldness of the bracelet around your wrist. “It’s… weird to have dinner with a couple. Never done that before.”

  “Well, you are in luck! Cause Jack’s treating us tonight! Red wine and steak, right, baby?” 

  “Of course, doll, anything for my favorite people,” he grins at you, glancing at Robby, who raises his eyebrows in surprise, “What?”

  “Nothing, just… I had no idea I was one of your favorite people,” Robby chuckles, putting the menu down so he can pat your hand, narrowing his eyes at Jack’s teasing smirk.

  “Do you think I take everyone to dinner with my girl?” Jack smiles, and Robby looks between him and you, finding you already looking at him with dazzling eyes, “Why do you think I go up on the roof? ‘Cause I know you’ll come and find me.”

  “So you’re just an attention whore,” Robby snorts, “Not that you’d do it with everyone, but… It’s surprising. You never introduced any of your previous hookups to me or Dana.”

  “I’m not a hookup, Robby—“ you squeal and bite your lip when Jack grabs the foot of your chair, dragging you closer to his side, kissing you feverishly on the mouth for a hot second, “Jack! We’re in public.”

  “Don’t care,” Jack pecks your lips again, and the sight makes Robby’s heartbeat rise, “You look too beautiful right now, don’t you agree, brother?”

  Robby is sure he is bright red with how you bite your lip and giggle. He doesn’t know what he has to say, it is inappropriate, he knows it, hell, even Jack knows it, but it doesn’t make your or Jack’s mood sour, in fact, it’s making you both excited.

  “No comment,” he grabs the glass of water on the table, taking a large sip while he looks back down at the menu to hide his face and embarrassment, but he can’t, not when you lean over the table to hold his hand.

  “Hey, look at me,” you pull on his fingers gently until you have his attention, his heated cheeks making his brown eyes more noticeable, “He doesn’t mind, you can admit that I look good.”

  “I’m not gonna flirt with my friend’s girlfriend in front of him.”

  “So you’d do it when I’m not around, huh?” Jack licks his lips, staring at Robby like he has said something that might ruin his entire life forever.

  Robby doesn’t know if the color is drained from his face or his cheeks are getting hot enough to cook a meal on them, either way, he is a mess. You are looking at him like you want to eat him whole, and Jack’s stare is enough to initiate the thought that he might tear Robby’s clothes in half.

  So yes, Robby is a fucking mess.

  “Let’s order before our poor boy passes out on us.” You kiss Jack’s cheek, nuzzling your face into his neck, leaving red stains all over his pale skin.

  Robby is fucking grateful that the table is far in the corner of the restaurant, being out of sight and earshot or he would have fainted long ago. 

  “I’m twice your age, doll, not your boy,” Robby says, finding the last bit of his confidence, “And I don’t pass out from flirting. ‘M not that weak.”

  “Is that an invitation to do more than just flirting?” Jesus fucking christ, Robby is going to have a stroke if you keep sweet talking him into… he doesn’t even know where you are leading him to, but he is near exploding — from desire, from pent up tension, from embarrassment.

  “Easy there, doll,” Jack chuckles, pointing at the waiter to come and take your orders, glancing at Robby with an easy smile, “Don’t scare him off so soon. At least let him enjoy his dinner.”

  Jack knows the effect you are having on Robby; he can see it. Robby is an open book to him, they have been working together for years, spent countless hours next to each other, so it shouldn’t be a shock when Jack catches a whiff of Robby’s arousal from the distance — he is already half-hard, it should be embarrassing, but with the way you bite your lip and blink up at him like you’re staring at a diamond statue worth million dollars and Jack smiling and looking at him with his intense eyes… he is done for good.

  “Maybe we should just leave, Jack,” you are talking to your boyfriend, but your heels are dragging up his calf, the pointed tip digging into Robby’s jeans as you slowly move them up. He grabs your ankle gently, giving you a pointed look before he looks back down at the menu, pretending to read the words.

  “That’d be rude,” Jack says, kissing the side of your head, “Order for me too, I’ll be right back.”

  “‘Kay,” you beam at him, looking back at Robby, who is glaring at you — there is no ill intent in his eyes, just pure confusion and lust, “So, what do you say?”

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “Oh, come on, Robby!” You manage to drag your foot upper, lips parting in satisfaction when you nudge the bulge in his jeans, “It’s so fucking obvious that I want you.”

  “You have a boyfriend, my friend, I can never—“

  “Betray him? Well guess what,” you rest your forearms on the table, squeezing your tits together and smiling when you notice how Robby’s eyes drop down for a second, “He wants you too. I’m not falling for the ‘he is just a friend, he is my coworker’ bullshit. We want you, both of us, and… it seems you want us too.”

  “I… It’s not okay—“

  “Says who, Robby?” You whine, pouting at him like a child — he wants to call you a child, he wants to cuss you out and do unspeakable things to you, things he is ashamed of, things he shouldn’t be thinking about. “One night, that’s all we’re asking. You know, I asked Jack about you. His extremely sexy friend with sad eyes…”

  “What do you want from me?” Robby asks, voice hoarse and legs shaking as he squeezes your ankle.

  “We want you, that’s all,” Jack comes back, sitting down in front of him, cupping your jaw and digging his fingers into your cheeks, “Look at you, already so fucked out from flirting with him, what a slut.”

  Robby’s heart stops, his pupils dilate in a second as he hears that one word. Slut. Jack called you a slut and you are grinning at him like you have been rewarded. 

  He has always been skeptical about this side of him; he is a gentleman, he’s been told. Always making sure women feel safe with him, always looking out for them, even during sex, he has never allowed himself to go there and call them names. He felt it might demean them as a person, even though he was into it more than he would like to admit.

  “Are you going to join us?” Jack pulls Robby out of his thoughts, “My truck is outside, ready to go to our place.”

  “I don’t know—“

  “Please? Of course, if you’re really uncomfortable—“

  “I’m not,” he cuts you off, running a hand down his face as he purses his lips, “I don’t want to do something that might mess with my friendship.”

  “I think you’d mess it up if you don’t come with us and fuck my girlfriend,” Jack shrugs, standing up to extend his hand to you, and you take it, grabbing your purse to stand up next to him, waiting for Robby to join you.

  “Fine,” Fine. Yeah. Totally. Like, he isn’t about to get his hands on his best friend’s girlfriend. Like, this is totally normal for Jack to invite him to his place. Totally normal.

  You smile broadly, letting go of Jack to grab Robby’s hand, pulling him towards the exit as Jack walks ahead of you to his truck. 

  Robby can feel your excitement; your hands are shaking, a skip in your steps, and a grin you try to hide as you bid your farewell to the waiters and drag him to Jack’s car. You open the backseat door, urging him to go sit in the middle before you crawl inside too, waiting for Jack to turn on the engine and move.

  As soon as the car starts moving, you ditch your purse and straddle Robby’s lap, sitting yourself right on the tent in his pants, arms wrapping around his neck, leaning down to capture his lips in a soft kiss to test the waters.

  Robby groans, large palms caressing the path of your bare thighs to your waist before he meets you halfway this time, lips locking in a passionate kiss. One of his hands moves up to grab the back of your neck, keeping you pressed to his body while he licks his way into your mouth.

  He doesn’t notice how Jack’s grip tightens around the wheel, occasionally glancing back to see how desperately his girlfriend is grinding her hips down on Robby’s bulge.

  You moan into Robby’s mouth when his zipper comes in contact with your heated cunt, the wet spot in your thong leaving its trail over the fabric of his jeans as you let him explore your mouth like a starved man, scratching his beard under his jaw.

  There’s spit, tongue, teeth, everything Robby has ever felt in this kiss. It is a mess in your mouth, a mess he created, and when he pulls back, he sees how your lipstick is smudged all over your chin and swollen lips — truly, he has never seen a sight so beautiful as this.

  “We’re here,” Jack announces, his voice cracking as he looks at the pair from his rear mirror, cutting off the engine before he jumps down off the truck, opening the backseat door to help you out.

  You crawl out of Robby’s lap with one last kiss on the corner of his mouth, holding Jack’s hand to steady yourself and pull down the hem of your dress, waiting for Robby to join you. 

  The three of you walk to the building’s elevator as nonchalantly as possible, acting like you weren’t sucking on each other’s mouths a few moments earlier. But as soon as the elevator’s door is shut, Jack is kissing you on the lips while Robby presses himself to your back, trailing his tongue over your pulse point.

  You moan into your boyfriend’s mouth, one hand tangled in his curly hair while the other circles around Robby’s neck to hold him close. You can feel the warmth of their arousal against your body — hot, heavy, and begging for attention. 

  You feel Robby move away quickly when he hears the sound of the elevator’s ‘ding’, and it makes you and Jack chuckle.

  “What?”

  “Don’t worry, no one’s gonna catch us,” Jack replies, grabbing your hand to pull you into the hallway, silently forcing Robby to follow, “We’re the only people living on this floor.”

  “Lucky—“

  “Urgh, enough talking!” You groan, grabbing Jack’s keys from his hand before unlocking the door, pulling both men inside the apartment by their collars, “We have much more important things to do.”

  You don’t let them respond, you just grab Robby by his sleeve and pull him to the couch, pushing him down on the cushions before you crawl into his lap for the second time tonight, crashing your lips into his.

  Jack stands behind you, unbuttoning his shirt before he reaches to grab you by the back of your neck, pulling you away from Robby roughly, tilting your head back so he can look at you from above.

  “Wanna suck him off, doll?” Jack leans down, pecking your lips before he chuckles at your quick nods, “One dick wasn’t enough for you, was it?”

  “No…”

  “I know, greedy little slut,” he taps your cheek, standing back a little to give you room to stand up, but before you can kneel between Robby’s legs, Jack stops you, bending you down by a hand on the space between your shoulders, “You didn’t think I’d let you kneel, huh? It’d be really fucking rude to not let me fuck you while you blow my best friend.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” Robby gasps when you only nod and unzip his pants, muttering a soft ‘yes sir’ in reply to Jack, pushing your hips back to your boyfriend’s bulge, grinding yourself against him as best as you can before you feel him reach between your bodies to undo his belt.

  “Do you always talk to her like that?” Robby gasps when you wrap your fingers around his cock, watching how you marvel at the size, stroking it a few times before you lower your mouth on the tip.

  “She loves it, brother,” Jack chuckles, pushing your dress over your waist and dragging your thong down your thighs, biting the flesh of your thigh in the process before he straightens his back, “Look at her, she is drenched. If not a whore than why act like one?”

  You hum around Robby, bracing your weight on your forearms on his thighs while Jack holds your hips in his steady hands, not letting you fall while you are bent over. 

  Robby sighs, hand reaching to rest over your head as you take him down your throat slowly, slurping and gagging in the process. His gaze goes from your red lips stretched out around his cock to Jack pumping himself, slowly lining up the tip with your cunt before he slams himself inside you. You jolt forward, moaning around Robby as your boyfriend fills you up completely. 

  Robby doesn’t know where to look; to your face that is covered in smudged makeup or to where you and Jack are connected, the globes of your ass hitting Jack’s hips as he picks up his pace. 

   “Fuck,” he groans when you angle your head to take more of him, and Jack siezes the moment to grab your arms and pull them behind you, leaving you choking around Robby’s dick.

  “Don’t be gentle with her,” Jack says in a deep throaty tone, smirking at the feeling of your walls tightening around his dick, “She gets off on it. C’mon, brother, tell her how much of a dumb slut she is, I mean, look at her.”

  Robby has always been hesitant to indulge in this side of himself, rightfully so, because none of his previous partners have ever allowed him to open up about his fantasies. It is strange to finally be given the green light not by one, but two people.

  “Really? You come just by being talked down to?” His tone is condescending, humiliating even, but when bites his lip and nods at Robby, he knows he is doing a good job, “Fucking pathetic.”

  Your eyes roll to the back of your head when Robby guides you up and down his length with his fingers tangled in your hair, the angry red tip hitting the back of your throat over and over again.

  “I told you,” Jack groans, nails digging into your waist as he pounds into you, “Taking two cocks at the same time. Maybe we should both fuck her holes together, what do you say? I’m pretty fucking sure she’d love it.”

  Your legs are aching, Robby notices; they are shaking and barely holding you up as Jack drills his cock deep inside you, pulling you to the edge of your orgasm quickly.

  “Are you going to come?” Robby pulls you off of his dick, leaning down to kiss you hard on the mouth, making sure you can take a breath in before he kisses you again, “Do it, come around him, I wanna see how he wrecks you.”

  You can’t form a coherent word when Robby reaches for your clit, burying his face into your neck as he stares into Jack’s eyes, watching how slams himself into you a few times before he comes, coating your insides white with a breathy moan of your name.

  Your high hits you like a truck, shuddering and quivering with meaningless words falling from your lips, gushing around Jack’s dick as he holds you pressed to him, making sure you take every drop of his cum.

  “Don’t make him wait,” Jack delivers a harsh slap on your ass, helping you crawl into Robby’s lap with weak legs, “Use my cum as lube, fuck him good, make sure he knows you’re his fucking toy too.”

  “Yes, sir,” you giggle and push Robby back, raising on your knees as Jack comes to stand behind you, reaching between you and Robby’s body to grab Robby’s cock, stroking him with a tight grip before he guides you to sit on it, “F-fuck—“

  “Shit,” Robby mouth parts in shock; you are warm, so so warm and welcoming, and Jack’s cum is leaking around his cock as you sit on him, keeping Jack’s seed locked in place, “You want me to fill you up too?”

  “Please!” You whimper, resting your hands on his shoulders so you can bounce up and down, vision getting blurry as his fat cock nudges your cervix so beautifully, “So big, so fuckin’—ah, fuck—“

  “He is big, isn’t he? But you can take it, I know you can. Be a good whore for him, yes— there she is,” Jack bites your neck, grabbing Robby’s hand to put them on your boobs while his own palms run down to your hips, helping you move faster, “Talk to her, brother, she fucking loves it.”

  “Yeah?” Robby squeezes your tits, long fingers playing with your nipples as you nod mindlessly, wailing out at the stretch of his cock while you ride him with all the energy you have left, “You love when I give you attention too? Your boyfriend wasn’t enough so you had to fuck his friend too. Disgusting, chasing the closest dick you could, I’m so fucking glad it was me.”

  Robby thrusts his hips upward, throwing his head back as he feels his balls tightening. The warmth and wetness of your pussy being too much for him, he knows he is close, it seems that Jack knows too.

  “C’mere,” Jack caresses Robby’s fully clothed chest up to his chin, grabbing his jaw tightly before he leans over your shoulder to kiss him. 

  The sight of the two men kissing is enough to make your vision go blank, legs trying to close around Robby’s wide hips as you come, white hot pleasure rushing through your veins. 

  Jack pulls away, his hand moving to Robby’s neck as you both look at the older man — flushed, breathless, and ready to come. You don’t stop riding him, not before making sure he gives you his load too. You move forward to kiss Robby as well while Jack holds his neck in place, his other hand helping you move your hips in fast circles.

  “Come for me, sir,” you gasp against Robby’s mouth, clenching your walls around his throbbing cock as you grind down on him, “I need it— give it to me!”

  “Fu—ahck!” Robby’s hands fly to your hips, holding you down as he finally comes, shooting ropes of his seed inside you with a deep throaty groan, eyes closed and cheeks on fire.

  “Yeah, make'er full, brother.” Jack kisses your head, his smile matching your lazy, tired grin as you watch Robby ride his high, giving you possibly the biggest load he has ever had.

  You fall on Robby’s chest, and Jack moves to sit next to the two of you, watching how you and Robby wrap your arms around each other while trying to catch your breath.

  “How was it?” You ask in a hushed voice, pressing soft kisses on Robby’s blushing neck, trailing your kisses up to his face, “Good? Bad? Out of this world?”

  “I’m fucking dizzy, give me a second,” you laugh at Robby’s tired voice, slowly stroking his hair, looking back at Jack who only shrugs runs a hand through his hair.

  “What? You too?”

  “We need at least two hours before we can fuck you again,” Jack says, ushering you to slowly deatach yourself from Robby, snuggling between the two of them on the couch with their mixed cum leaking out of you.

  “I mean…” Robby glances at you when you start talking, “You got two mouths and four skilled hands.”

  “You’re not wrong,” Jack smirks, looking at Robby with raised eyebrows, “What do you say?”

  “Maybe we should fuck the cheekiness out of her.”

  “Or maybe you could fuck each other and I watch,” You beam at them, “Though fully naked next time, and on the bed. I can’t feel my legs.”

[returnofeternity]

sleepy sex with transfem jackie taylor?? ☺️

i guess this kinda counts more as somno (consensual ofc) but imagine honeymoon hugging her and she lowkey just…slips it in? maybe she had really bad morning wood or smth… anyway side note but she would totally call it “making love” instead of fucking bc it’s more romantic that way 🥰

she wakes up from the absolute best dream about you, her cock throbbing painfully in her panties as she stares and pouts at your sleeping face. since she's hugging you, her cock is positioned perfectly, and she's having so much trouble thinking about if she should just jerk off or slip it inside. her brows are furrowed so cutely, and she's biting her lip as she slowly moves against you for friction because, fuck, her cock is so hard it hurts.

jackie has to bite her hand when you shift in your sleep and move your leg higher to wrap around her waist. her cock is now right against your hole, and all she has to do is slip her panties down and she'll be inside. she lets out the heaviest sigh as she removes her panties, her bare cock slapping against your pussy. the second she slips inside, she can't control herself. she's whining and gripping your hips as she gently fucks into you, craning her head to the side so she's able to meet your lips and mumble, "fuck, you feel so good." against them.

thinking of her apologizing as you wake up, drowsy and feeling so full from her cock stretching you out, babbling about how she couldn't help it and that she needed to make love to you 😵‍💫 ughhh. falling back asleep together, her cock still inside of you :(

[kier-with-a-k]

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓, 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅'𝒗𝒆 𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝑶𝒗𝒆𝒓 - 𝑪. 𝑺.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒉𝒐𝒍, 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌.

Mess.

I'm a fucking mess.

I don’t even know what time it is anymore.

My phone’s dead. My soul’s dead.

I’m dead. I think I’m actually dead and this is hell.

Rain’s still pouring down like the sky’s crying for me because I can’t cry anymore. I’m all dried up and hollow.

I’m sitting in my car like an idiot. Driver’s seat. Parked crooked in some sad corner of the lot behind the bar they tossed me out of like I was garbage.

And maybe I am. Maybe I am fucking garbage.

I can’t drive. I can barely sit up straight. Everything’s spinning and wet and the steering wheel’s cold against my forehead.

I’m shaking.

I think I might throw up. Or scream. Or both.

I pull out the stupid charger from the glovebox with fumbling hands like it’s some lifeline. Phone turns back on with a gasp of light, and I immediately open her contact.

“My Love ❤” — yeah. I kept the heart.

I couldn’t make myself delete it.

And then I start.

Voicemail #1:

“Hi. Hi. Um. I–fuck. I don’t even know. I don’t even know, okay?”

Sniff. Cough. Long pause.

“You’re not gonna listen to this. You probably blocked me. I–fuck. I deserve that. You should’ve blocked me harder.”

I let out this stupid laugh that sounds like I'm choking on something sharp.

“I’m drunk. And I hate myself. And I miss you. I miss you so fucking bad, I think my insides are rotting out.”

Click.

Voicemail #2:

“Please don’t delete these. Please. I know I sound crazy. I am crazy. I–I can’t breathe when I think of you not loving me anymore.”

I sound so small. My voice cracks like glass.

“Just… remember the day we danced in the kitchen? You were making pancakes and your hair was a mess and I kissed syrup off your nose and I told you I loved you but you didn’t hear me. And I didn’t say it again. I SHOULD HAVE SAID IT AGAIN.”

My voice breaks into a full sob. I don’t even care.

Click.

Voicemail #3:

“You could’ve saved me. You did save me. And I let you go like a fucking IDIOT. Who does that? Who walks away from the only person who ever made them feel safe?”

My head hits the steering wheel again. Hard.

“I swear to god, if you came back right now, I would drop everything. I’d fall to my knees in the street. I’d let you spit in my face and still beg you to stay.”

Click.

Voicemail #4:

“I’m soaked. It’s raining. I didn’t even bring a jacket.”

I laugh, but it’s broken. I sound so fucking gone.

“There’s a puddle in my shoe and it still doesn’t feel as cold as not having you.”

Sniff. Whimper.

“I’m a loser. Like, actual loser. Capital L. Permanent record.”

More silence. Then, softer:

“I’d give up everything, okay? I’d give up my pride, my job, my fucking spine if it meant I got to hold you one more night. I don’t even care if you yell at me. I just want your voice. I want to hear you say anything. Even if it’s ‘I hate you.’ Just… say something. Please.”

Click.

Voicemail #5:

“I didn’t eat today.”

I’m crying again, harder now. Not pretty crying. Ugly. Guttural. Like I’m heaving out my soul in chunks.

“I–I couldn’t. I couldn’t even look at food. I was scared if I took a bite I’d taste you. That pasta you used to make. You know the one. The one you said was ‘too spicy’ but then you’d keep eating it anyway and drink from the faucet like a maniac?”

I’m laughing and sobbing and it sounds like a mental breakdown.

“God, you were so beautiful when you were ridiculous. I loved you so much. I still do. I–I love you. I love you. I fucking love you.”

Click.

Voicemail #6:

“I don’t even want to live without you.”

It’s quiet.

“I’m not gonna do anything, okay? I just… I just don’t see the point. You were the whole thing. The whole thing, baby. You were my beginning and middle and now I don’t have an end. I don’t have anything. I’m just here. Drinking poison and talking to ghosts.”

Click.

Voicemail #7:

“Remember the song?”

Soft whisper.

“Jeff Buckley. ‘Lover, You Should’ve Come Over.’ You said that song hurt too much but you loved how it hurt.”

My voice is cracked and torn up now, barely audible.

“I hear it everywhere. In my dreams. In the bar. In the silence. It’s playing right now in my head, over and over.”

A broken breath.

“You should’ve come over. You should’ve come back.”

Whimper.

“Or maybe I should’ve run after you harder. Maybe I should’ve never let you leave. God, I was so fucking stupid. Please. Please tell me I didn’t ruin everything.”

Click.

Voicemail #8:

“I don’t know who I am without you. I don’t want to be anyone else. I just want to be yours again.”

I’m whispering now. No energy left.

“Please come back. Or at least just text me. Just once. Just let me know you’re breathing. Let me know I didn’t imagine everything.”

Click.

And then I just sit there. Phone slipping out of my hand, screen dimming, my entire body folded into itself like a dead star.

Rain’s still falling.

Nobody’s coming for me.

But God, I wish she would.

I wish she’d run barefoot into the storm, throw open the car door and scream at me for being a fucking idiot, then climb into my lap and shake me back to life.

I’d let her rip my heart out and eat it if it meant I got to feel her warmth again.

But that’s the thing.

She’s not coming back.

And I’m just a drunk, pathetic shell of a man in a dead car, in the middle of a parking lot, talking to voicemails like they’ll bring her home.

And all I can do is whisper, again and again:

“Lover, please. Please come over.”

“Please come back.”

“I don’t know how to be okay without you.”

And I won’t stop whispering.

Not tonight.

Not ever.

A/N: I love writing this one! As you can see... I'm low key more grotesque on this fic... Idk why I guess I thought it suits and it does!

This is definitely influenced by @sturnsblogs blame her! And this is also for @lilolebambi cause she loveesss this song!

TAGLIST: @sturnsblogs @thenickgirl @sturns-mermaid @sarahsturnn @jacksonsturniolo @certifiednickboy @nickssidewitch @fentiesturns @oopsiedaisydeer @messi10-fcb @nickscoconutwater @ed1tssturnn @lilyswirly @ev1ldeadboy @mattsfrenchtoast @sweetshuga @chriss-slutt @izzylovesmatt

Dividers by THE @bernardsbendystraws