#his bio could have been made-up though | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dcxdpdabbles · 3 months ago

Note

Hii 👋 i really love your works i would eat it if i can, especially freelance inventor, will you ever countinue writing it? (Sorry if it sound rude, English is not my first language)

"So what's the deal with them?" Steph dares to ask when Bruce and Mr. Fenton finish passing out the souvenirs the inventor brought back. She wasn't sure why she was included in the gift giving, as she never even met the man before, but she now had a bowl from Irland tucked in her purse.

She's heard about Mr. Fenton through Tim and a bit from Jason. Both boys practically worshiped the ground the man stepped on. She understood that, on some level, they owed him their lives.

Jason, after being rescued from the Joker and Tim after Mr.Fenton found him on the rooftops all those years ago. She won't lie. How they spoke about Mr.Fenton painted a completely different image in her mind.

She expected someone regal, with a cold, calculating glance, who could figure out what she was expecting with a mere glance. Someone that she wouldn't be surprised if he was found tucked away in a pure white lab, working with glowing chemicals. She knows that they never claim Mr.Fenton was terrifying, but she had personally witnessed Dick threaten to tell Bruce to the man.

If he could make Batman cower by his mere mention, Steph had been expecting someone closer to what an evil version of Alfred would be.

Instead, she got a man in faded jeans, beat-up boots, and gentleness that hurt her teeth with how sweetly he smiled. If Bruce was a Bat, then Mr.Fenton could be a flower.

Gentle. Pretty. Unassuming.

Steph had logically known Mr. Fenton was a civilian. But she thought that he would be a scary one, at the least. Maybe someone in the justice system, a personal fighter like a boxer or hell, someone good with firearms.

"Hmm?" Damian glances up from his painting. Steph noticed that he has been doing a lot lately. Leaving his room to paint around the manor. She hasn't known the boy for long.

Steph had only recently forgiven Bruce for the whole Robin stunt he pulled (making her think she was his partner only to be used as bait for Tim, burned), and she wasn't around when Bruce's bio kid was found. Based on the stories Tim, Jason, and Dick shared, though, she thought he was a little more bloodthirsty.

He is more prone to violence after his upbringing, but he seemed to be shimmering down the last few weeks. Damian had apparently been given a talking to by Mr.Fenton, who took him out of the manor into the city for some "undercover training."

Steph hadn't been in Gotham then. She was busy helping a few teen titans with a mission that had her traveling to the other side of the world. But apparently, whatever harsh training Mr.Fenton had forced Damian to undergo had brought back peace to Wayne Manor.

Or as close as it could be.

He still referred to himself as the actual blood son.

"Bruce and Mr. Fenton," she repeated, nodding to where the pair could be seen conversing in the hallway. However, it looked more like Mr.Fenton was the only one talking. Bruce was too busy staring at him like he was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. "They seem really close, but in a weird way."

Damain's intense green eyes snap at her. She raises a brow, unwilling to let the brat see he made her flinch. "Do you have a problem with Father getting close to another man?"

It takes her a few seconds to understand why he sounds so guarded before she gasps. "It's not the gay thing! I don't care if their gay!"

"I should hope not. You come into our home and eat our food, Brown." The boy clicks his tongue distastefully. Steph has never seen someone look down their nose at someone two heads taller than them, but Damian proved it could happen. "I would not allow for homophobia to enter these halls. It is not within the rules of social justice."

"Social justice?" She repeats a little surprise that Damian was speaking to her without an insult so far. The only time the brat had bothered to talk to anyone besides Bruce had been to insult them. At least in the two months, she had seen him wander after her Teen Titians mission.

"Danny has pointed out that Father's civilian reputation is tied heavily with social justice. It would not due for his heir to cause trouble in his affairs." Damian places his paintbrush back on his canvas, sneaking glances at the window.

Curious, Steph creeps closer to take a peak and finds herself memorized by the water painting he is working on. It's Bruce and Mr.Fenton. In the painting, Bruce is staring lovingly at Mr.Fenton, who seems to be in the middle of laughing. Though neither have arms- Damian is working on those- it doesn't detract from their loving expressions.

"If it is not due to their gender, what do you find weird about Father and Danny?"

Steph considers the question before slowly getting closer, wanting to oversee the young boy splash some white into Mr.Fenton's eyes, making them appear glowing. "It's just.....weird how Bruce likes someone so normal. No training. No big fancy money. No ties to the capes. Just a man who's really good at science."

Damain shoots her a complicated glance over his shoulders before he slowly replies. "Yes. An average Joe, as you Americans would say. That is Danny."

"Right? Isn't it weird? And besides the fact Bruce is so obvious with his crush, Mr. Feton has no idea. But he can pull apart a toaster in ten minutes to curl Babs hair for her dance? Don't you think it's odd?"

Damian hums. "A true master does not need to show who they are until the blade is at their opponent's neck. But I will admit that Danny's appearance can be rather deceiving."

"Damian.....do you know something?"

The boy's face turned more complicated before returning his attention to his painting. He taps his paintbrush against his palate before he mutters. "I knew only Danny did not treat me like a rabid animal. He took me to the zoo. I haven't been outside the manor since his last visit and grew wary of these walls."

His words hit Steph like a brick. Her first instinct is to explain why it was essential to keep him here, but then she thinks more about it, and her teeth slam shut.

Crude, has she been acting like Bruce? Had she really allowed him to convince her that a child should be locked up like it was nothing? Then again, Damian isn't a prisoner here.

Even if he was, she helped break him out.

"Say, kid, you want to come with Tim and me to the mall this afternoon? I think they have an art store."

Damian twists around to stare in utter shock. For all his training, he really is just a kid because Steph can see the genuine yearning in his eyes as he tries to casually cover up his reaction with a regal shoulder shrug. "I suppose I will have time for more undercover training."

Strange, Steph thinks while texting Tim about Damian joining them. Mr. Fenton hasn't even spoken to me that long, and he already changed how I viewed Damian. Is this why Bruce is into a civilian?

#dcxdpdabbles #Freelance inventor #dc x dp crossover #Part 5.5 #Steph's pov #Damian knows about Danny #But thinks it's impolite to say #Steph can't explain all the tension between Bruce or Danny #Danny's effect on the family is ripples

656 notes · View notes

screwitbaby · 6 months ago

Text

cybergirl

hamzahthefantastic x reader (fic)

1.0

[part 2]

summary: hamzah’s a horny freak and you’re the lucky camgirl who gets to entertain him.

contains: smut with plot, essentially

wc: 2.1k-ish

It's that time of the night where Hamzah has finally completed all his daily tasks and he feels a familiar twitch in his pants. As an adolescent he never understood what people meant by "thinking with your dick," but that was before he had access to myriads of internet porn at the press of a button.

It was a fateful day when he masturbated for the first time. What was once just a pee stick attached to his body suddenly became so much more after stumbling upon his dad's porn magazine collection in the garage. That year was full of mysterious viruses on the family computer that seemed to appear from thin air and lots of trips to his friend's houses to share his findings.

Of course, there was the eventual graduation from magazines to videos to now, God's greatest act since turning water to wine: OnlyFans.

This time, he did not simply stumble upon such a vice. Instead, he was introduced to it through a time of desperation. Covid was at its peak and quarantine was doing a number on his mental state. Or, perhaps that's just what he tells himself to excuse what he did next.

He went to one of the many models he followed on Instagram and clicked the link in their bio.

It was all too enticing, too easy. A simple hop, skip, and entering of credit card information later and he was in—subscribed. This was the first taste of a delicious new drug he would no longer be able to live without. From then on, an addictive part of his personality would take over and he'd constantly want more, more, more.

No one knew about his dirty little secrets in the taboo corner of the internet where he could explore his greatest fantasies. He wasn't a virgin anymore, but a sexual deviant with a very bad spending habit. He'd learn more about himself in this time than any amount of puberty and social interaction could have ever made clear to him in his lifetime.

And that all brings him to the current time, 11:03 p.m. on a Wednesday night, alone as per usual. The saddest part was, the porn made him feel a little bit less lonely in the onset of isolation he was experiencing since his detachment to the world. The throbbing in his pants held a dull ache as he disrobed and laid in bed in only his boxers. He pried his laptop open and typed in his favorite web address, the gateway to his favorite girl in the whole world.

You were the perfect woman in Hamzah's eyes. You'd do anything for the right amount of pay, somehow keeping the mystique surrounding you prevalent and consistently having him crawling back for more. You had fuck me eyes and blowjob lips. And last, but certainly not least, the most mouth-watering pair of tits.

Though Hamzah thoroughly enjoyed these physical aspects of you, he also felt a deeper connection with you. There was something about you that caught his attention, made him unable to focus on anyone else. He'd often find himself daydreaming about you; thinking of your grocery list while at the supermarket and unholy things you could do to him when passing the neighborhood church on walks. He was enamored by your whole being.

He opened up Zoom and went to your usual meeting room, waiting for you whilst nearly bursting through the cloth of his boxers. You were always a little late, and even though he'd been paying for these sessions for a couple months now, he couldn't bring himself to care. You could keep him waiting until the daylight and he was sure he'd still be sitting in front of the camera awaiting your entrance, having a part in his own torture as he refused to please himself until you got there.

When the notification finally sounded that you had joined, it was 13 minutes past your initial meeting time of 11:05.

"Hi, Hamzah," your sweet voice rang, "were you a good boy for me?"

"Yes." He quickly nodded, his eyes unable to separate from your cleavage.

You teasingly pouted and crossed your arms, pushing your breasts up in the process. "You're never naughty... always trying to please me, hm?"

"Always," he breathed out.

"But I want to please you, too," you whispered.

You moved your laptop camera to expose the length of your body, fully bedecked in lilac-colored lingerie atop silky bedsheets. Hamzah's hand instantly reached to grab himself with a whine.

"So eager," you giggled. Your fingernails trailed down your sternum, tracing the bow on the center of your bra. "I love how you react to me."

"I'm already so hard," he said through a grunt.

"Show me," you ordered.

Hamzah hastily pulled his boxers off, freeing his erection from its confines. He spat into his palm and gripped his shaft, lips parted.

"I wish that was my hand," you sighed, eyeing the imagery unfolding in front of you. "Don't you?"

"I do," he replied with no regard as to how desperate he sounded. It just fueled the fire in his belly. "I nearly fucked a hole in my hand yesterday thinking about you."

"What were you thinking of?" you questioned, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you unclasped your bra and slid the straps down your arms. Hamzah watched in amazement, the friction of his hand making him speechless. "Was I blowing you? Riding you?"

"In the shower," he panted. "Your face pressed against the tiles—shit—while I fucked you from behind."

You hummed, pinching your nipples for a moment before your hand trailed further down, "all wet for you?"

"Soaked," he said, tossing his head back on the wall but keeping his eyes on you. "S-Screaming my name."

"Hamzah," you teased, "such a dirty mouth on you."

"Say my name again," he pleaded.

"Hamzah," you melodically repeated. "You're not gonna last long if you don't slow down."

He whined, knowing you were right. "So good...don't wanna stop."

"I know, baby," you murmured, running your fingertips over your wetness, "but don't you want to take your time with me?"

He watched as you slipped one finger in, then another, shielded by the fabric of your panties. He grunted in frustration, fisting his dick harder.

"Let me see you, please," he begged like the sight pained him, running his other hand through his disorderly curls.

You obliged, standing from the bed and turning so your ass was in the camera frame. You slowly pulled the laced bands down your hips, bending over as they fell down your legs and pooled at your ankles. Hamzah's breaths quickened as you kicked them to the ground, fully exposed to the camera.

"Fuck," he cursed, desperately reaching for his laptop to pull it closer and get a better view of you. "You're so..."

You crawled back onto the bed and parted your legs so you were out in the open for him, pussy glistening with your desire. Your fingers retraced their destined path as you reached down and spread your folds. He watched with hungry eyes.

"I'd kill to get a taste of you." He panted between his words.

You giggled and slipped teasing fingers in and out, never all the way. "Tell me how you want it, angel."

He moaned louder at the pet name. "All fours, p-please."

You flipped onto your knees, arching your back so your chest was touching the bed and you were looking over your shoulder at him.

"Touch yourself," he demanded.

Your cheek pressed on the mattress as you sunk your fingers deep within yourself, adding a third to fill you to the brim. Your mouth fell agape. The room filled with slapping sounds as you and Hamzah pumped your hands simultaneously.

"My god," he puffed out, his bare chest reddening with the fervor of his movements. "Just like that."

"So tight," you whimpered, feeling yourself clench around your fingers. "I'm dripping for you."

"I can almost f-feel you," he groaned as he pictured himself inside of you. "Fuck, the things I'd do to you..."

"Yeah?" You egged him on, getting restless. "Would you pound into me? Stretching me more than my fingers ever could?"

"Until you're bruised and sore," he promised breathlessly.

His hips began to lift from the bed as he fucked into his left hand, steadying himself on his right forearm. It was impossible for him to lift his jaw closed with the way he felt, his eyes nearly rolling back into the back of his head. Your free hand groped your breasts as your skin burned from his words.

"Are you close, Hamzah?" you asked, familiar with his signs. "Don't you dare cum yet, baby."

"I'm trying," he said through gritted teeth. "I never last long when you're l-like that."

"I love it," you gasped as shocks of electricity coursed through your veins. "Such a mess, all because of me."

"'Cause of you," he echoed, incapable of forming his own thoughts from the pleasure.

The both of your moans filled the air, pushing each other closer to completion. Hamzah's quivering voice, ever so expressive, shouted expletives as he slowly came undone. The pain in your neck went ignored as you took in the pathetic state of him, cumming into his fist and all over himself. His eyes were screwed up as his hips jolted in unison with every spurt of white that left his glossy tip.

Your climax took place soon after he came back down from the clouds, allowing him to watch as your thighs were saturated with your own arousal. He tirelessly pumped his shaft, wanting to ride out every last bit of satisfaction he could from you calling out his name. When your eyes opened and saw him, you shook your hips side to side, letting him ogle you a little longer.

You crashed to the bed and brought the laptop up so you could observe the way he cleaned himself up with a tissue from his nightstand. Your chests rose up and down, trying to oxygenate your lungs after being so breathless for so long. His happy trail was dampened, lying flat against his skin as he swiped away the last bits of moisture from his stomach.

Silently, you rose with trembling legs to grab the closest cloth to clean up your own mess. When you began wiping your inner thighs with your bunched up panties, Hamzah groaned. You bit your lip and bent over to shake your ass, your reddened pussy on display.

"Is it bad I wanted to lick my screen?" he exhaled as you sat back down, not bothering to put any clothes on.

"Stop," you giggled.

"Mail them to me."

"What?" You were still trying to catch your breath.

"Your...panties." The word sounded more obscene leaving his lips.

"I'll have to wash them first—"

"No." He shook his head, resting his hands on his sweaty torso. "Just send them."

"You're filthy," you gasped, grabbing the moisture-laden garment up from the carpet and holding it up. "What do you want them for?"

His cheeks suddenly flushed and you smirked, twirling the lace in your fingers. "You know."

A lazy smile spread across his face as he leaned his head to rest on his bicep, exhaustion beginning to hit him. It was a really fucked up ego boost—having him so obsessed with you—but up until then you’d never actually felt the rhythm of your heartbeat falter from his words. He didn’t know his words affected you that much, and even less did he know that he was the only client you actually managed to orgasm with.

“Five hundred.”

“Dollars?” Your brows shot up.

“No, pesos,” he joked, eyes half-lidded.

“Do you know the things I’ve done for that kinda money?”

“I don’t care.” He shrugged.

Behind a screen, he was different. Something like an alter ego would be unleashed, an audacious character he certainly didn’t behave like in public spaces. He didn’t have to worry about being found out because of his digital anonymity (as anonymous as you can be with your whole face and dick out). In the real world he was an introverted loner, but here, in the darkness of his room with only the LCD screen illuminating his figure, he was free to act as he pleased.

Besides, in the presence of you, he was basically a saint.

“Okay,” you finally said.

“Okay?”

“I’ll send them over.”

“Can’t wait.” There was a twinkle in his eyes from the acceptance of his offer.

“Try not to look so smug, angel.”

The call ended abruptly and as the light in front of him dimmed, he realized he was getting hard again in anticipation of receiving the parcel.

a/n: i’m realizing i can just post whatever i want on here so here’s this lil idea ive been hiding away for a while!! hope u enjoyed freaks <3

#hamzah fic #hamzah x reader #hamzahthefantastic #slushy noobz #slushy virus #hamzah x y/n #hamzahsmut #hamzah imagines

541 notes · View notes

nena-la-fresa · 7 months ago

Text

All Night Long | Good Ending |

18+ Account | Minors DNI | Do NOT Follow, Like, or Comment | Pls have your age in your bio, if you do not I will automatically block you because I’ll assume you are a minor.

All Night Long | Neutral Ending | /// All Night Long | Bad Ending |

Pairing: Josh Washington x f! Reader

Word Count: 2551

Sometimes you still think about that night. You felt like Beth and Hannah were like sisters to you. You visited their house often for breakfast and dinner, so it really hurt what happened. You couldn’t even imagine how Josh felt. You still feel somewhat responsible, maybe if you hadn't been taking care of Josh that night things would have been different.

They both knew you liked their brother. If anything they were the only ones who tried to get you together. They were the ones who set drunk Josh down on the same couch as you. You were so focused on playing with his hair and drawing lines on his face with your fingers. You even confused your feelings to him. You thought he heard you when he mumbled your name in his sleep.

But then they went missing and Josh cut off you and everyone else. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt but what else could you do. He was mourning.

You were a little surprised though at the invite you got. But still happy, you really hoped that he was doing somewhat better.

When you got there it was like he was the same Josh, he didn’t look like he was mourning. He acted the same way. He still made his same flirtatious comments. He was still that boy next door kind of guy.

He had noticed that you got cold, so he walked over with a blanket. You were about to take it when he opened it and wrapped you with the blanket. You looked up at him, a bit corny but looking into his eyes just made you feel like kissing him.

And you feel like he noticed too, why else would he clear his throat and walk away. You felt a little disappointed. But you thought it was a good time to talk to him. You sat down next to him while he was crouching trying to light the fire. You weren’t alone so you just spoke softly so only he could hear.

“I’m really sorry for what happened Josh. I really loved Hannah and Beth. I still miss going over to your house on Sundays and eating breakfast with you guys. I really regret that day too, I should have been with Hannah that day. But I was so focused on taking care of you that I just didn’t- I didn’t think about what could happen.”

You looked up and saw him looking at you. “Thank you. I appreciate that Y/n.”

You were about to say something when Chris interrupted, “What am I missing?”

You rolled your eyes before looking at Chris who was crouched coming in between the two of you.

“Everything, we just had full blown sex right now. How'd you miss it?” Josh turned slightly to look at Chris.

“Oh shit no way. Was it hot?” Chris patted Josh on the back.

“Oh yeah dude. It was, you couldn’t tell? Dude had me cumming three times in the span of a minute. That guys, a real sex god.” They both looked at you bewildered, not uttering a word.

“Okay, guess I can’t joke around. I’ll leave you ladies to it. I’m going to sit on the couch where it's less awkward.” You got up and moved over to where Ashely was.

Chris moved to where you had been sitting, “So uh, you and uh, you and her?” He nodded towards you.

“What about me and her?” Josh continued to try and get the fire going.

“You finally gonna ask her out?” Chris whispers, “Cuz if you don’t I might just have to. I mean have you seen that ass? Just thinking about it makes me wet. Picture it, her ass up in the air while you're pounding into her and it has her screaming your name.”

Josh glares over at Chris. Chris laughs, “Just saying the same shit you did buddy. But seriously, I think you should finally go for it. She definitely wants you to.”

You slowly stopped talking when you heard Sam yell about there not being any hot water. Josh got up and was about to head to the basement.

“Go.” Ashley whispered, but seeing that you didn’t get up she yelled. “Josh, do you need help? Cuz Y/n could definitely help you if you needed help.”

Josh turned around, “Yeah I could use some help. It’s definitely a two man job.”

“Alright well if you need me that bad I guess I’ll go.”

You both stood at the entrance of the basement. “Oh fuck no. I’m not going down there.”

You didn’t budge, “What you scared?” Josh smirked.

“Yes actually. Haven’t you ever seen scary movies Josh. People die in basements. There are ghosts and shit down there, psycho’s who are waiting for people to have sex.”

“You tryin to have sex?” He raised an eyebrow..

You glare at him, “Sure buddy. Let’s have sex all you want.”

He pumps his fist, “Yes.” He sees that you still aren't moving.

“Alright. Here.” He holds out his arm for you.

“Come on. Just hold onto me.” You hesitated, “Trust me, if there was anything in there I’d protect you.”

“Okay.” You wrapped your arm around his, pulling him close. He could feel your breast pressed up against his arm.

He’d be lying if he said it didn’t get him a little hard.

After watching Josh fix the boiler he asks for your help. “Alright turn that switch there.”

“Right here?”

“Yeah.”

You turn the switch on and the boiler starts working.

“Yes! High five girl!”

“What are we kids?” You laugh but still give him a high five.

“Nah cuz if we were kids you wouldn't have said what you did upstairs.” You could hear the flirtation in his voice.

You could feel your face heat up. “Okay. Let’s just forget about it” You start to walk away but hear a loud sound that scared you. “What was that?”

You backed up into Josh, the warmth that was radiating off of his chest had you melting. His hands landed on your hips keeping you close. You felt him lean down and talk in your ear.

“That could be a lot of things. But what I’m focused on is the fact you called me a what was it again? A sex god?”

You shifted a bit in his grasp, an exhale left his breath. “Don’t do that.” His voice barely above a whisper.

You felt something boil up from inside you. Something about him whispering in your ear got to you. “Do what? Oh this?” You rubbed your ass against him.

“Fuck.” Josh gripped your waist tighter.

“What can’t flirt back.” You felt him start to rub himself against your ass.

One of his hands shifted from your hip to your pants. He wasted no time slipping his hand down them. His cold hand against your slit was such a sensation. His fingers went past your folds and slipped inside. “Fuck.” You whispered.

You were at a loss of words as he pumped his fingers in and out slowly. He used his other hand to move your hair out of the way so that he could suck on your neck. His hand going back to your hip to hold you in place.

“What was that about flirting back?” He felt you tighten around his fingers.

“Josh please.”

“Please what?”

“I need you.” He took his fingers out. Leaving you feeling empty.

“Need me where.” He put his fingers in his mouth, “God you taste so good.”

“In me. I need you in me please.” He got right to it. He took off your clothes and his. You could feel his hard dick against your ass.

He pushed you against the way so that you could lean forward. His dick rubbing against your folds. You could feel his arousal.

Your once empty hole felt full, the girth and length that this man had. He started out slow. But he picked up the pace. One hand on your hip and the other against your clit.

“Your pussy feels so good.” He whispered to you. He stopped for a bit before putting you on all fours. Your face pressed against the blanket he gave you earlier. His hands on your waist, gripping them tight enough to leave a bruise. And the feeling of his dick reaching places you wouldn't have felt while being pushed up against the wall.

Josh's pace starts to pick up. He starts hitting all the right places and it causes you to scream.

Unbeknownst to you both but there was someone watching. Chris was getting ready to scare you both with the first sound but when you both didn’t go investigating he got closer. That was when he saw you two. He was watching as you were grinding on Josh, and the way Josh started fingering you. He felt himself get hard. He knows he shouldn't have. He had a crush on Ashley. But what he told Josh earlier wasn't that much of a lie. He did think you were hot, especially in high school. Even when Josh dropped out he’d still see you around campus, he always wanted to talk to you. Always wanted to have sex with you. He fantasized about it a lot.

And now here he is. Watching behind a shelf, with his dick out stroking himself to the sight of his best friend fuck the girl he thought was hot. He could feel himself getting closer to cumming when something fell.

You both looked up in the direction of the noise. Chris’s face was now visible to you both. “Uh. I heard someone scream.”

Josh didn’t stop though, the room filled with the sound of skin hitting against one another. If anything Christ standing and just watching made Josh thrust even harder, like he was trying to claim his dominance. Especially with what Chris was saying earlier.

You’ve never thought of Chris in that way but being watched did something to you. “Josh” you moaned his name and felt yourself squeezing around his dick.

“You just gonna stand there Cochise? Cuz it looks like our girl here is getting excited from being watched. I know you haven't gotten your dick sucked. Why don’t you let her get it wet. But don’t expect it again. It’s a one-time offer Cochise.” Josh watched as Chris hesitated.

“Or you could go back upstairs and not get any from Ashley. Cuz I know you both wont put out.”

In a rush Chris keeps the robe on but gets down on his knees. You prop yourself up but grab his hard dick. You lick the tip before looking up at him and putting it in your mouth.

“Fuck” Chris lens his head back and grabs a fist full of hair.

“She’s good isn't she Cochise.” Josh kept ramming into you, saliva dripping down your chin from Chris, dick in your mouth.

“She's better with her mouth around you. So why don’t I give you a turn and you give me a turn.”

Anger built up in Josh, “Fuck no.” Josh grabbed your arms and pulled you back up.

“I have an idea. I don’t think you’ll like it though.” You let Josh slip out of you. You turned around, your lips hovering over his lips. “But I really want to try it. And then after I’m all yours.”

Josh nodded, you told Chris to lay down. You made Josh watch as you sank down on Chris’ dick. You bounced on it a few times before leaning back against Chris’ chest.

“You just want me to watch you fuck another guy?”

“No. Just come here.” You wrapped your mouth against his dick and got it wet. You sucked on the tip before pulling back, “I want you to go in.”

“I’m sorry what?” Chris showed hesitation.

“Chris please. Come on, don't ever tell me that you two horn dogs never thought about a girl with two dicks in her.”

Josh smirked at you, “Wow, you’re really taking that party like porn stars seriously.”

“You said it yourself, ‘it’s a one-time offer.’”

Josh wasted no time. He leaned you back against Chris. Chris held your waist with one hand and the other hand its way to your breast. You moaned feeling Josh spit on your pussy and his dick. He pushed his dick against your entrance, stretching it and pressing it against Chris’.

“Fuck” You gasped at the feeling of being filled to the brim.

Josh starts to thrust, your pussy dripping from arousal makes it easy for them both to move inside you. You could feel yourself coming closer. Your eyes started to water, you felt that tingling sensation on your nose. They could feel you tighten around them.

Chris pulled out and began to jerk himself off. But Josh kept going even if you began to get overstimulated. He kept fucking you while you were still on top of Chris, he just slightly lifted you to not disturb Chris letting it lose.

You could feel Josh getting closer. His thrust were erratic, his breathing was heavy. He kept whispering your name until he came inside of you.

Josh leaned down and kissed you.

You all stayed there for a moment to catch a breath. That was before Chris got up after cleaning himself. “So uh, we don’t tell Ashely or anyone right?”

“Right.” You laughed as Josh helped you put on your clothes.

“And it was a one time thing Chris.” Josh turned around after he finished buttoning his pants.

“Right right. I get it.”

You all ended up going back up stairs together. Ashley got up from the couch “What took you guys so long.” She paused before seeing Chris robe. “What in god's name are you wearing?”

Chris did the Trinity on Ashley, “I found my true calling.”

“Pretty ironic huh.” Josh whispered over to you, you stiffened a laugh before elbowing him lightly.

“Please tell me you're going to take a vow of silence.” Ashley joked.

“He better.” Josh spoke a little louder, confusing Ashley a bit.

After you nudged Josh again he turned to you. “And you. What am I going to do with you?”

You smirked at him, “With me? I did nothing.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess we just gotta go for round two huh.” Josh grabbed your wrist lightly trying to lead you.

“Oh you mean round two with you know who?” You could see that he got irritated for a second.

“Yeah sure okay.” Josh leaned down before holding your legs and throwing you over his shoulder.

“Where are you two going?” Ashley laughed at the two of you.

Josh started to walk up the stairs, “I gotta talk with her about some stuff. You two have fun down here.”

“Damn that basement really did something for them huh.” She laughed and looked at Chris. Who weirdly looked irritated.

“Chris?”

He snapped out of it. “Oh, yeah. It really did. Some kinda trauma bonding or something from the scare I gave them.”

“Where did you even find that?” Ashley listened to Chris all the weird shit that he found in the basement. Excluding the sex and him watching you and Josh fuck before he joined in.

#xreader #x reader #until dawn #until dawn x reader #josh x reader #josh washington #josh washington x reader #until dawn smut #josh washington smut

734 notes · View notes

magiccath · 1 year ago

Text

TARDIS Tricks

Tenth Doctor/Reader (could be any Doctor if you squint)

Summary: In which the TARDIS pulls some matchmaking schemes

The last week had been exhausting. Life with the Doctor usually was, but this week was just a little too much for you. Not just you either, the Doctor was wiped out too.

He pushed the doors of the TARDIS open with a tired sigh, throwing his long brown coat over one of the numerous coral-like branches littered throughout the control room. Then, he made a b-line for his worn-out captain’s chair, slumping into it dramatically. His long, spindly legs stretched out in front of him, making him appear taller than he was - if that was even possible. The way he stretched was more than akin to the characteristics of the cats you had encountered.

You weren’t much more energetic about your entrance, throwing your coat next to his and moving to slump against the circular console.

“Can we please take a break from the running?”

“We haven’t been running that much,” he groaned, though you could tell he was thinking the same thing. He might have ‘superior Time Lord biology’, but he was clearly as tired as you were. Maybe there was a limit to the running he could do.

“Daleks, New New York, then that weird Bio-tech company, followed by the literal end of the universe, and wrap it all up with diamond rain on Saturn.”

“Suppose there has been a lot of running,” the Doctor grumbled again, admitting defeat. “How about a day or two of rest? Get some sleep and relax a bit?”

You nodded, glad he finally understood what you were trying to say. All you wanted was to sleep for at least 8 hours uninterrupted. Ideally, 12 hours.

“Don’t fall asleep in that chair,” you scold, noticing how he already appeared to be half asleep, “you’ll get back pain and then you’ll be insufferable. Go to bed, I know you have one somewhere.”

The Doctor grumbled, not bothering to form a full and coherent sentence. You kicked his leg, not hard enough to truly hurt him, just enough to get him out of the chair. He grumbled again and sat up in the chair, stretching his slender arms above his head.

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

He nodded, already looking slightly more alert. Slightly. Satisfied that he wasn’t going to fall asleep, you decided to head off to your bedroom.

You walked slowly down one of the numerous, winding halls of the TARDIS. You’d walked to your room hundreds, if not thousands, of times by now. You knew exactly where it was, and it wasn’t there. In the space where your door would normally be was… nothing. You tapped around the wall, wondering if perhaps the Doctor replaced your normal door with some kind of seamless door mechanism.

When the wall didn’t yield you let out a frustrated grunt, “What did you do?” you asked the TARDIS, resting your hands on the smooth surface of her walls. The wall was cold to the touch, colder than usual that is. Normally, you felt something when you touched her. The best way you could describe it was a presence. But, at the moment, you felt nothing.

Aggravated, you sulked your way back to the control room.

“Where is my room?” you glared at the Doctor, hands on your hips. Normally, you’d play along. Hide his Sonic Screwdriver or coat somewhere he couldn’t find it. This time, you were far too tired to humor him.

“What d’ya mean?” the Doctor frowned in confusion. “Did you get lost in the hallways again?”

“No, I know where my own room is and it’s not there!”

The Doctor’s frown deepened as he got up from his seat, brushing past you and into the hallway. He took long strides down the corridor, stopping in front of where your room normally was. He slipped his glasses out of his inner pocket, sliding the specs onto the bridge of his nose. His head tilted to the side as his hands ran over the smooth wall, examining the space with his characteristic curiosity.

“Did you do this?”

“What? No, why would I steal your room?” He peered over his shoulder, almost offended that you would suggest such a thing.

“You’ve done weirder things,” you argued, crossing your arms.

“Name one,” the Doctor challenged, mirroring your defensive stance.

“The time you put a pigeon in my shower,” you responded immediately, not needing time to think about weird things the Time Lord had done. It was one of the things you liked best about him, he was constantly strange. It made things fun, but it could also make things incredibly aggravating.

“He needed a bath. Have you met pigeons? They’re filthy.”

“Wash your pigeons in your own shower!”

“That's… that’s not the point here,” he mumbled, clearly deflecting the conversation. “Your room is missing.”

“I noticed,” you deadpanned, not looking away from him. “Can I have it back?”

“I told you, I didn’t take it.” The Doctor threw his hands up defensively.

“Rooms don’t just walk away,” you say, glaring at him. By now, your irritation was bordering on anger. All you wanted to do was fall into your soft bed and not leave until this exhaustion wore off, but you needed a bed to do that.

“Maybe the TARDIS sorted it away,” he shrugged. As if accentuating his point, the TARDIS let out a soft hum. You weren’t even sure it was real at first, maybe it was just the air conditioning kicking on.

“Did she just…?”

The Doctor nodded, confirming your theory that the TARDIS had responded to him. What reason did she have for storing your room away? You were about 98% sure that you still lived on the ship.

“Is this her way of kicking me out?” The TARDIS let out another hum, this one in clear disapproval. Not kicking you out, then.

You let out a small sigh of relief. You’d never admit it, but you had never felt more at home anywhere else in your life. Realistically, that wasn’t because of the TARDIS. It was the Doctor, he could make any place feel like home to you.

“Well then, can I have my room back please?” you asked the TARDIS

The corridor was silent. In fact, the whole ship was silent, if that was even possible.

Something you learned early on in your travels with the Doctor was that the TARDIS was the one really in charge. What she says goes. Always. It doesn’t matter if you were promised a beach vacation and ended up in the middle of winter in Victorian England. And it most certainly didn’t matter if you wanted a bedroom or not. She was a force to be reckoned with, and you respected that.

“I’ll sleep on the couch in the library, we can deal with this in the morning.” You decided it was easier to just let the TARDIS work through whatever tantrum or scheme she was cooking up. Sometimes when traveling with the Doctor it was better to just go with the flow - and that didn’t just apply to ship malfunctions or sleeping arrangements.

You trudged down the corridor, heading for the vast library. It really was an impressive library, even better than the one in Beauty and the Beast. Shelves lined the walls and extended up high for multiple stories. It was easy to get lost in the room because it was so large. Most of the time you just asked the TARDIS for directions if you needed a specific book. Mostly, you just used it as a calm and quiet place to take a break between your chaotic adventures with the Doctor.

Usually, there were at least three couches in the room at a time. Your favorite was a mustard yellow, not a particularly nice color (especially for a couch), but it was beyond comfortable. The issue was that the couch wasn’t there. Furthermore, there wasn’t any couch in the large room.

“Doctor!” you call out loudly, staring blankly at the space where there should be a couch. There were small circles on the wood where the legs of the couch would normally sit, leading you to assume that you weren’t going crazy. The TARDIS had stolen your room and now your favorite couch.

“What’s the issue now?” the Doctor grumbled, rubbing his face tiredly as he strode into the library. He came to a standstill next to you, staring at the empty floor with equal confusion.

“She got rid of the couch.”

“I can see that,” the Doctor said, his eyebrows raising in interest.

“I’m exhausted, I'm grumpy, and I just want to sleep,” you whisper urgently, almost on the verge of tears. It felt silly to be upset over such a small thing, but you were beyond tired. Your brain was functioning on sheer willpower and that was quickly running out.

“I know, I know,” the Doctor whispered sympathetically, gently lifting your face up to look at him. “Look, you can sleep in my room. She hasn’t taken that.”

“That's where you sleep,” you point out, trying not to show how flustered the endearing touch had made you.

“Normally, yes,” the Doctor smiled slightly, finding your response slightly comical. “It’s a nice bed, though I’m not sure it would matter much to you either way at this point.”

“Where would you sleep?” You frown, knowing that he needs the sleep just as much as you do, even if he would never admit it.

“I don’t need to-” he started but cut off once he saw your glare. “I can sleep in the console room, that chair isn’t really that bad,” he amended.

“You’ll hurt your back, I already told you not to fall asleep there.”

“It’s not like we have any other options,” the Doctor shrugged. It wasn’t that big of a deal to him. He would do anything for you, sleeping on a chair that hurt his back was nothing in comparison.

“I’m not letting you sleep in the chair,” you insisted, crossing your arms defensively. “I’ll sleep in the chair.”

“No one is sleeping in the chair!” the Doctor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“I could just sleep on the floor, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“No, I’m not letting you do that,” he said seriously.

“What do you propose then?”

“Well… we could…” the Doctor trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. By now, you knew it as one of his many nervous tics. “We could share the bed,” he finally said, his eyes glued to the floor.

“Share your bed?”

The Doctor nodded, still not fully looking at you. At this point, you were too tired to question it, or even really think about it.

“Can we even do that? Are you ok with that?”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t. As you’re comfortable with it,” he said back, his tone only slightly less panicked. He wasn’t even sure when the last time he shared a bed was.

“Alright,” you whisper with a slight blush.

“I’ve never seen your room,” you add after a few seconds.

“You haven’t?”

You shake your head, “it could be a torture dungeon for all I know.”

“It’s- it’s not-” he struggled before realizing you were joking. “It’s a normal bedroom,” he whispered, already walking out of the library.

You smile to yourself and follow him down the hall, the only sound the soft tap of your footsteps. His room wasn’t far from where yours would normally be, just a few turns down the hall and to the left. The door was the same blue as the TARDIS, almost identical to the front doors of the ship.

The Doctor opened the door and slipped inside, leaving it ajar so you could follow.

Whatever you had expected when it came to the Doctor’s room, it wasn’t this. Almost every square inch of the place was covered with things. Gadgets and gizmos, rocks, keys, books, alien-looking things, and-

“Is that Starry Night?” you frown, looking at a framed picture leaning against a corner.

“Oh, yeah, Vincent gave that to me,” the Doctor shrugged like he didn’t have one of the most recognizable paintings in all of history on his bedroom floor.

“Isn’t it supposed to be in the MoMa?”

“That one’s fake. Don't tell anyone though, I’m not really supposed to have this one,” the Doctor shrugged, undoing his tie and slipping it off his neck. You tried to not follow the movement with your eyes, the nimble movement of his hands as he undid the knot capturing your attention.

You looked away embarrassed, turning your attention back to the painting. “Did you steal Starry Night?!”

“No, I told you, Vincent gave it to me,” he frowned at you, wondering if the exhaustion was finally getting to you. He had just told you that.

“And you just… decided to keep it on your bedroom floor? Next to your trash can and first editions of Lord Of The Rings?”

“That’s not a trash can, it’s an artifact from B-739. Priceless, don’t touch it.”

“Right, 'cause that’s the priceless item in here that I’m worried about accidentally defacing.”

“If you’re going to bully my possessions, I’m not gonna let you sleep in here,” he grumbled, a pout barely evident on his face.

“I’ll shut up,” you say, looking around the rest of the room. You kept your comments to yourself, instead taking the time to admire the strange collection of things the Doctor kept in his room. It was like a personal museum of all of time and space. That is if the museum prioritized shiny objects and children’s toys from the early ‘90s.

It was all very him, and you couldn't help but feel safe in the room. Sure, you felt safe everywhere on the TARDIS, but this was different. If you could, you would have spent hours scouring every inch, wanting to learn everything you could about the Doctor.

You tugged your attention the the bed. It wasn’t a small bed, but it also wasn’t ridiculously large for one (albeit, strangely tall) Time Lord. The sheets were dark blue silk with a thick woolen blanket on top, also in a matching blue.

“Do you need PJs?” he asked, poking his head out of the closet he was currently in. The doors were a dark oak with a row of ties hanging on the inside of one. The patterns ranged anywhere from solid colors to cartoon characters from your childhood you had forgotten existed. You smiled as your eyes caught on a brightly colored tie with Winnie the Pooh on it.

“Yeah, that would be nice,” you nod, turning your attention back to him. A few moments later he came back into the main room carrying two sets of PJs. You’d only seen the Doctor out of his trademark suit once or twice, for all you knew he just slept in it. Maybe he invented some kind of sleep suit, like a three-piece made entirely out of comfortable knit fabric.

He handed you one set of PJs, a classic striped set. He held in his hands another set, that one also striped, just in a different colorway. You’d never put much thought into what the Doctor wore to bed, but for some reason, this made sense to you.

“Bathroom’s over there,” he tilted his head in the direction of a door in the corner. You took the clothes and made your way over to the room, closing the door gently behind you, the ‘click’ reverberating through the silent space.

There wasn’t anything spectacular about the bathroom. By most standards, it was a perfectly ordinary bathroom. Even still, it’s clear to you who this bathroom belonged to. Various products (mostly ones for hair styling) were scattered across the countertop, but you didn’t feel like it was a mess.

There was a bright, puffy, flower-shaped rug in front of the sink that reminded you of something you might find in a Barbie Dollhouse circa 2002. In contrast, the shower curtain was a bright striped pattern that reminded you of a beach ball. In any other room, the decorations wouldn’t have matched, but knowing this was the Doctor’s doing made it all make sense to you.

You slipped the pajamas on quickly. You looked a little ridiculous in the Doctor’s clothes, like you were playing dress up in his closet. They didn’t fit you perfectly, but that much was expected. Even still, the fabric smelled like the Doctor, leaving you with the aching feeling that he was hugging you. You pressed your nose against the sleeve, breathing in the familiar smell before realizing you were smelling the Time Lord’s pajamas.

You shook yourself out of it and exited the bathroom, poking your head tentatively into the main room. The Doctor was sitting on the bed, having already changed into his PJs. His head turned at the sound of the door, smiling slightly at the sight of you.

“Do y’a need anything else?” he asked.

You shook your head, standing in the doorway awkwardly. Seeing him sitting there, on the bed, made it all seem real. You couldn’t do this. How could you share a bed with the man you had the biggest crush on ever?

“I- well, I can’t-” you stammered, trying to put your thoughts into words. Your brain was tired and panicking, the combination leaving you unable to fully express anything. “I can just sleep on the floor.”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the floor, just get in the bed.”

You shift anxiously, tugging at the sleeve of the PJs he gave you. There was no way to explain it to him without admitting your feelings. It was a double-edged sword. Or maybe it was paradoxical. It didn’t really matter.

Begrudgingly, you slide under the covers next to him. You lay like a corpse, your hands firmly tucked at your side as you stare up at the ceiling. He had those ridiculous glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. They weren’t even just haphazardly stuck up there, he took the time to form them into actual constellations. The ones that he’d shown you up close.

You felt a twinge in your heart. It took everything in you not to turn to your side and hug him right now. His hugs felt like oxygen to you. You could be having the worst day ever, but a hug from your favorite alien never failed to brighten it.

The Doctor turned the bedside lamp off, sending the room into darkness. Your eyes were still glued to the stars, their soft glow highlighting them against the black of the room. He settled down in the bed next to you. You felt every single shift as he got comfortable, the feeling of him next to you distracting. It was hard not to think about how much you liked the Time Lord when you were literally in his bed. It was impossible not to feel his presence next to you, the weight of another person weighing down your mind.

“You ok?” the Doctor whispered, pulling you out of your spiral.

“Yeah,” you whispered back. Maybe if you said it, it would be true.

You felt his hand slide against yours, his fingers brushing against the back of your hand. You didn’t dare move, you didn’t even pull your gaze from the cluster of glow-in-the-dark stars above your head. Tentatively, he slid his hand into yours.

This wasn’t the first time you had held his hand. Far from it, actually. You held his hand almost every day. It was easy to get lost in space, it was just easier if you held onto each other. But this time was different, the intimacy of it making your heart thunder against your chest.

Neither of you said anything, the silence filling the room. Eventually, your eyes fluttered closed, the fluorescent greenish afterglow of the plastic stars remaining in your mind. It didn’t take long for you to slide out of consciousness, the heavy weight of sleep taking over and dragging you down.

You woke up of your own accord, a pleasantry you couldn’t remember the last time you experienced. No droning alarm, blinding rays of early morning sunshine, dogs barking, or anything else of the sort. Just your mind and body, having decided they were thoroughly rested, arising of their own accord - an internal affair rather than an external one.

After the initial fogginess of waking up after hours of deep sleep, you became quickly aware of your surroundings. Not just the Doctor’s bed or even his bedroom, but the Doctor himself. More specifically, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

At some time during the night, the exact timing unbeknownst to either of you, the two of you had found your way into each other’s arms. The action was seamlessly smooth, so much so that it almost felt rehearsed.

Your legs slotted together like expertly crafted puzzle pieces, fitting together in a way that made more sense than it should have. Could legs even fit together? You suppose they must if you were experiencing it. His chin rested on top of your head, his nose occasionally bumping the crown of your head as he shifted and nuzzled in his sleep. Your own head was tucked against his chest, your ear positioned right between his beating hearts.

The steady thumping of the twin organs pumping blood through his system was mesmerizing, the sound strangely familiar and comforting. You could feel the vibrations through your body, the asynchronous beats reverberating around in your head.

Slowly, the panic started to creep in, invading the sense of calm you had felt seconds before. You were in the Doctor’s arms. You woke up in the Doctor’s arms. Even worse, the Doctor was going to wake up and find you in his arms.

As if on cue, the Doctor started to stir awake. Low grumbles left his mouth as he buried his face further into the pillow beneath him. You stiffened, the change in posture immediately noticeable. You cursed yourself for drawing more attention to the situation.

The Doctor looked down at you, his tired brown eyes boring into yours. You blinked slowly, unsure what else to do.

“Good morning,” he whispered groggily, his voice at least an octave deeper than usual. You felt your cheeks heat up, almost certain that a blush was rapidly spreading across your face. He wasn’t moving you away or screaming in horror. If anything, he was holding you tighter now.

“Good morning,” you patored back, unable to form any words of your own. What was there to say? “Sorry, I’m a compulsive sleep cuddler, this totally isn’t because I have a massive crush on you please don’t read into it.”

The Doctor’s thumb rubbed small, concentric circles on the small of your back, his eyes still hung up on your face. You wished he wouldn’t look at you like that, like the most beautiful thing in the whole galaxy, like it was nothing.

As if suddenly realizing what he was doing, the Doctor stopped immediately. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and released his arms from around you, the sudden loss of contact disjointed. You frowned slightly and scooted to the other side of the bed, sitting up in the process.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered hurriedly, his eyes purposefully avoiding you.

“It’s ok, I really don’t mind, I mean honestly it’s probably my fault,” you responded too quickly, your words falling out of you without much thought. “It’s really not that big of a deal,” you lied.

The Doctor finally looked over at you. By now, you were in expert in reading him. The secret was to look in his eyes. It didn’t matter what face he had, his eyes always told you everything you needed to know. You’d never seen them like this, though. An unfamiliar emotion him, a combination of his emotes you were so familiar with creating something you didn’t know. That worried you.

“Yeah,” he whispered, the look gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. He was back to his cheery self in minutes, stretching his body and springing up out of bed. “Let’s get on with it, maybe the TARDIS has found your room. I’d like to go visit The Beatles, what do you think?” he babbled on, striding across his room.

You scrambled out of his bed, almost begrudged to leave the silky warmth of his sheets. You scurried after him, practically running into his back as he came to a sudden stop. An annoyed groan escaped your lips as you peered over him, searching for the cause of the sudden stop.

The Doctor was pulling on his door handle, struggling to get it open.

“Forget how to open a door?”

“I’m over 900, I didn’t forget how to open a door,” he frowned, still tugging on it.

“Let me try,” you pushed him gently out of the way, tugging on the door handle yourself. Sure enough, it refused to budge. You pulled on it again, using both hands this time. Nothing.

Sheepishly, you turn back to the Doctor, ashamed to admit that he was right. “It’s stuck.”

The Doctor crossed his arms and nodded, an ‘I told you so’ look plastered on his face. He swiftly pulls the Sonic Screwdriver out of his pocket, pointing it at the door with his usual flourish. When it does nothing, he presses a few buttons on the device before trying again. After a few minutes of this, he finally gives up and resorts to kicking the door.

“Doctor!” you cry, grabbing his arm and forcibly dragging him away from the door before he can damage it or himself.

“Do you think…” you sigh, feeling guilty for even insinuating such a thing, “that the TARDIS locked us in here?”

“The TARDIS didn’t lock us in my room,” the Doctor says like it’s the most preposterous thing he had ever heard.

In response, the ship lets out a low groan of disagreement. More versed in the language of the ship, the Doctor noticed first. “You locked us in here?!” he hisses at seemingly nothing, but you know who it’s directed at. The TARDIS hums again, this time in a more approving tone.

“Why?” you butt in to ask. You’re met with nothing but silence.

“I don’t think she’s going to answer that,” the Doctor whispers in your general direction. The ship lets out another hum of approval.

You groan loudly, throwing your hands up in defeat. Not knowing what else to do, you slump back down onto the Doctor’s bed. You sit there for a few seconds just staring at the carpet (‘90s arcade patterned, of course) before the mattress dips next to you. You pull your eyes way from the garish carpet to look at the Doctor, his face equally as dejected as yours.

“I suppose there are worse places to be stuck,” you offer, “could be Mars.”

“There’s more to explore on Mars.”

“There aren’t ‘priceless’ artifacts from B-739, a mobile of the solar system that I’m pretty sure is intended for children, a box of Hotwheels cars, and a collection of pirate maps all in the same corner.”

“The mobile was a gift,” the Doctor defended.

“That’s what you got from all of that?” you chuckle. “It’s like the world's most clustered, excentric, space museum in here.”

“I don’t really sleep in here much. I suppose it’s just become a storage room of sorts,” the Doctor says sheepishly, almost embarrassed to be this open with someone. Sharing this much of his life with you felt strangely raw.

“I think it’s perfect,” you smile, the expression lighting up your whole face, “it’s very you. Chaotic, unorganized, other-worldly, and… beautiful,” you whispered, eyes scanning across the room. It didn’t matter how much you looked at it, there always seemed to be something new and fascinating to look at.

The Doctor, on the other hand, was looking at you. He was flabbergasted at how interested you seemed in it all. The tiny twinkle in your eye reminded him of all the stars he had shown you, all of the alien planets and beautiful corners of space. Yet, you weren’t looking at something particularly odd or beautiful, you were looking at his room. His messy, haphazard collection of strange objects and patterns.

Then, you turned that curious gaze in his direction. He felt his hearts speed up, a subtle but noticeable shift within his body. It was a nasty habit, his body getting excited every time you looked at him like that. He was 903, pretty people smiling at him shouldn’t make him react this way. Yet, you did.

Neither of you could figure out what the TARDIS wanted from you, so you eventually gave up trying. There was no point in fighting with the ship, both of you knew that was a losing battle.

You read the Doctor’s first edition of The Hobbit in the comfy warmth of his bed. In that time, the Doctor opted to pace back and forth and fiddle with the door relentlessly. Finally, he gave up and joined you on the bed.

“Do you have any ideas of why we’re in here?” he asked, pulling the book from your hands. You let him slip the paperback from your hands, throwing it on the duvet without bothering to mark your place in the book.

“If I did, we wouldn’t be in here,” you pointed out, looking at the discarded book longingly. The Doctor popped his head back into your field of vision, clearly not taking ‘no’ for an answer.

“It has to do with both of us, otherwise she wouldn’t have hidden your room.”

“Maybe she just thinks we need a few days off.”

The Doctor shakes his head, “She wouldn’t lock us in a room for that, she would just refuse to fly anywhere.”

“Maybe she thinks we’re fighting. Are we fighting?”

“Not that I know of,” he shrugs.

“I didn’t think so. Maybe we pissed her off?”

The Doctor shook his head again, “she doesn’t seem mad.” You didn’t need to question any further, you knew that the Doctor could read the TARDIS’ emotions better than his own sometimes.

“If it’s not anger, what is it?”

“Annoyance?” he said. You couldn’t tell if he was guessing or just generally unsure.

“Has she ever done this before?”

“Once she locked me out of the ship when I complained about her never taking me where I wanted to go, but this is different.”

“Have you said anything mean about her lately?” you asked more out of curiosity than animosity, but the Doctor interpreted it as the latter. He could be quite sensitive.

“No! Have you?”

“I have nothing but love and respect for the ship. She has put up with you longer than any of us ever could.” The TARDIS hummed in agreement while the Doctor scowled.

“I don’t know what we did!” he groans, falling back dramatically on the bed.

“Are you hiding something from me? A big secret?” you say as if you aren’t the one hiding feelings for the other.

The TARDIS lets out a quiet hum that lets you know you’re on the right track and you grin, poking the Doctor.

“I’m not hiding anything!” he swats you away, “maybe you’re the one hiding things away.”

You shake your head. For a second the two of you just look at each other. It’s hard not to get lost in his deep brown eyes, they’re endless pools of wisdom that can only come from centuries of living. Beneath the wary tiredness and stoic armor you can see who he really is, a lost wanderer looking for a place to call home. It was foolish, but you secretly wished you could be that home.

“You have really nice eyes,” the Doctor whispered.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” you whisper back.

“You were also thinking about how nice your eyes are?” he frowns in confusion.

You laugh, a smile taking over your face at his blatant obliviousness. “No, I was thinking your eyes are nice. I like them.”

“Oh… thank you?”

You nod, momentarily getting lost in his eyes again. Your mind was a mess, a kaleidoscope of him, the TARDIS, and your feelings for the former. You wanted so desperately to tell him how you felt, as you often did. Albeit, now was not the opportune moment. If he reacted poorly, you’d still be stuck in the room with him for an unknown amount of time.

And then it hit you. The TARDIS wanted you to admit something. She knew you had a secret, she maybe even knew what the secret was.

“Doctor?” you whisper shakily, surprised to find your voice uncertain and wavy.

“Mhm?” He pulled his attention to you.

“I just wanted to say that I love you.”

The room was silent for a moment. Neither of you moved or said a word, the normally quiet sounds of breathing and movement heightened by the lack of words between you.

“You too,” he finally said, his voice quiet. You knew admitting feelings was hard for him, especially when it came to things like love, so you couldn’t really blame him for the lackluster response.

You nodded, “I mean as more than a friend.”

“I know.”

Now it was your turn to sit in silence, your brain whirling as it tried to process his words. Was it hopeful to assume that he felt the same? That was what he had said, no?

“I’m very fond of you,” he added, sensing your confusion on the matter. “As more than a friend.”

You studied his eyes again. That unfamiliar look was back. For a minute you entertained the thought that it might be a look of admiration, love even.

The Doctor moved his hand into yours, his thumb brushing across the back of your hand. It was a normal action from him, but it still sent your stomach into a frenzy.

“It’s quite an inconvenience, honestly. Makes it hard to get anything properly done when you’re around.”

You chuckle, a small smile forming on your lips.

“You’re my favorite distraction,” he said earnestly. In his own way, it was his way of saying you were the most fascinating, beautiful, unique, and magnificent thing he had ever seen. He’d rather have a day with you than centuries with anyone or anything else.

He leaned closer to you, his face hovering inches away from yours. He waited, giving you time and space to move away or protest. When you didn’t, he slowly closed the gap.

His lips connected with yours, the kiss short and light, but it conveyed the years of affection and yearning. He pulled away, both of you smiling like love sick idiots.

Satisfied, the TARDIS opened the door with a click, the sound echoing around the room.

1K notes · View notes

clockwayswrites · 6 months ago

Text

@redghostbirdy Dick/Danny, skeleton shaped sugar cookies cw blood and stitches

Of course Dick still had to take his trash out after getting back from patrol. He was exhausted and wounded, but the trash had really gotten untenable and now had bio-waste in it. He had to take it down to the dumpster. It was almost a compulsion at that point to get it taken care of, or he knew he wouldn’t sleep well. As much as his family teased him about the state of his apartment he had his limits.

So, Dick tied up the bag, tugged it free of the bin, managed to slip on some shoes after a few attempts, and headed out into the hallway. And right into his neighbor.

His hot, brick wall of a neighbor that could totally bench press Dick in all the meanings of that phrase that Dick had totally been thinking a little too much about for the last few months.

“Whoa, careful there, darlin’,” Danny drawled, steadying Dick with large hands on both of Dick’s shoulders. “What are you doing wandering around out here at this time?”

“Um, trash?” Dick said ineloquently and raised the bag a little. The bag which apparently was leaking because his hand was wet.

Dick looked down at his hand and the red blood that coated it. Did his stitches pop?

“Ah, fuck,” Danny cussed and stepped back a little.

(Embarrassingly, Dick almost swayed after him.)

Danny lifted up the edge of his shirt, which may have killed what was left of Dick’s brain functions, to show blood flaked skin and—

“Is that a menstrual pad covering a wound?!”

Danny shrugged. “It’s just a little knife wound and Jess, the bouncer, hand one handy.”

“Oh my god. Just, come on, we’re getting that stitched up or at least bandaged properly,” Dick said. He set his bag of trash down by the door and grabbed Danny’s hand with his clean one to drag the bemused man into his apartment.

Luckily the first aid kit was still out on the little island counter and Dick all but pushed Danny onto one of the stools. Dick peeled the offending pad off maybe a little more harshly than was necessary and found a plastic bag to drop it into.

“I can’t believe that’s what you were using. And you call that little? How did you even get that? You’re the bartender! You’re supposed to be behind the bar.”

Danny just shrugged, an easy going and not at all repentant grin on his face. “I had to stop someone from being a creep.”

Dick just glared, mildly, at him as he washed his hands. He couldn’t really argue with that. He snapped on some gloves instead and set about cleaning Danny’s wound.

“I think this could use some stitches. I can do them, but I can also just get you patched up enough to go to urgent care if you’d feel more comfortable with that.”

“You can do them.”

“…yeah?” Dick asked just to be sure and glanced up at Danny.

Danny shrugged again. “I mean, you do have a very well stocked first aid kit on your counter already. Why was that?”

“Hush.”

Dick covered the area around the wound with a numbing agent while Danny chuckled at the non answer.

“If I promise to be a better patient than your students, do I get a cute bandage?”

Dick smiled despite himself as he threaded the needle. “All the cute bandages are at the gym. Stay still now.”

“Damn,” Danny said, and then waited until after Dick had started the stitches to ask, “What about a lollipop?”

“I might have some jelly beans still,” Dick said, grinning now. He kept his eyes on his work though, not wanting to give Danny uneven stitches.

Thankfully, Danny didn’t need that many and Dick was soon tying them off and taking a step back.

“No fun bandage, no lollipop,” Danny sighed, “what about a kiss to make it all better?”

Dick’s gaze shot up to look at Danny and his cheeky little smirk.

“Or did I miss read things completely?”

Dick rolled his eyes at Danny’s confidence, though it made him smile. “I think a kiss to make it better I can do.”

Danny’s smile turned into a full on grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dick said and leaned in to press his lips to Danny’s.

He tasted like spice, lime, and sugar.

#dp x dc #death defying ship #danny/dick #prompalomp

589 notes · View notes

ysljoon · 10 months ago

Text

Whirlwind | MYG

♡pairing: min yoongi x reader

♡wc: 3.1k

♡genre: smut, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, non-idol AU

♡ warnings: unprotected sex, degradation, oral sex (f receiving)

♡summary: with a hurricane coming your way towards your state, your roommate provides a safe haven to the man you’ve despised for as long as you can remember.

MINORS DNI (have your age in your bio or you're getting blocked)

The grocery store was bustling with people getting ready to prepare for the hurricane that was set to land in your state by the end of the week. You always knew once hurricane season started you needed to get supplies to keep you stocked, but since you’re plagued with the disease of procrastination you have no choice but to do last minute shopping. At least you had the company of Park Jimin to help you with your grocery run.

Park Jimin has been a close friend of yours since high school and have stayed roommates even after your college years. He has been the biggest support system for you throughout the years and you have been the same for him.

Once you were done checking out at the store you made your way to the car to pack all your groceries away. There was already a steady drizzle of rain falling down from the sky and you sighed already imagining the flooding that was bound to come with the storm. Jimin decided to take over the role of driving back home. You thanked him and quietly slid into the passenger seat. Jimin had refrained from any conversation throughout this trip and it made you a little concerned for him. He is never one to shy away from conversation or saying what he thinks so this behavior leads you to believe that something is wrong.

“Hey Chim, is everything alright?” You glanced his way to see if his expression will give anything away, but his face didn’t even twitch.

“Yeah I’m good bub, I just have some stuff on my mind. Don’t mind me.” He sent you a small smile to try and placate your worries.

“Okay well you know I’ll always be here to listen whenever you’re ready.” You gave him a small squeeze to his shoulder and dropped the topic the rest of the drive home. The soft hum of the radio filled up the silence of the car ride.

Once at home the groceries were unpacked and put into their respective places in the fridge and pantry and Jimin stored the cases of water bottles in the garage. Without glancing your way he called your name softly to get your attention once he was back in the kitchen. You peered at him waiting to hear what he was going to ask.

“Can we talk once I’m out of the shower?” You nodded and retreated to your room to give him the space he needed to do.

Your mind started to sift through memories of the past weeks to see if it could give you any kind of hint as to what this conversation could be about. Is he going to move out? Did you do something to upset him and didn’t realize? The cogs were turning and anxiety was starting to make you feel a little queasy. The time that Jimin took to shower and change felt like it was stretching on for too long. You were about to get up and check on him when you heard tow soft knocks against your door before he opened it to let himself in.

He was changed into an oversized sleep shirt and sweatpants and his bare cheeks were slightly flushed from the hot shower. You patted the middle of the bed for him to sit down and get comfortable.

“What’s going on Jimin? Are you sure everything is okay?” He was wringing his fingers together

And his eyes shifted around the room as he was preparing himself to speak. “With the hurricane coming up, is it okay if a friend comes and stays with us until it passes? His town is directly in the path of the storm and his area is prone to flooding.” You stared at him with widened eyes and nodded without hesitation. Why was he so nervous about this? This wasn’t nearly as bad as all the scenarios that you came up with in your mind.

“Of course that’s okay Chim! Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. Don’t scare me like though again I thought you were dying or going to move out!” You stretched to give him a hug and he rubbed your back gently. With that being the end of the discussion he bid you goodnight with a tight lipped smile that you gave no mind to and he took himself back into his bedroom.

Okay -scratch that- there is one friend of Jimin’s that is not a friend of yours. That person is the one and only Min Yoongi. He has been a thorn in your side since Jimin has entered your life. He has never done anything that was genuinely that awful to you but it’s the way he speaks and carries himself with such an arrogant attitude that aggravates you.

When you saw him walk through the threshold of your front door with his duffel bag you instantly felt your blood start to bubble from the boiling rage you had in your body. The glare you sent Jimin was deadly and you motioned him to follow you into your room so you can tear him a new one talk.

“Park Jimin I don’t know if you suddenly have amnesia for the past 10 years, but I don’t know where you got the idea that Min Yoongi is allowed into our home! If I had known it was him that you were offering a place to stay I would’ve just let the hurricane take him away.” You were livid. Jimin took your hands in his to stop the gesticulating you were doing. With the way your hands were moving wildly he was afraid you would hit him.

“ I didn’t tell you because of that reason Y/N. I know you don’t like him, but this is only temporary. I told him to be on his best behavior, but if he really acts out I’ll send him to a hotel nearby if the weather isn’t too bad.” You let out an exasperated sigh, but had nothing else to add to the conversation that would make it productive. You stomped back out into the living room and refused to acknowledge Yoongi’s presence. Maybe if you just ignore that he’s in your home you can keep your sanity intact.

“Hey princess, can you sit somewhere else? This is gonna be my bed for the next couple of days.” You gritted your teeth hearing that god awful nickname Yoongi called you. He always said it in such a condescending tone that would get under your skin in the perfect way. “In case you forgot Yoongi,” his name rolled off your tongue with a sharp bite. “This is my home that you are a guest in. You don’t get to boss me around on what I can and cannot do in my home and my couch.” You continued scrolling on your phone hoping he would get the hint to leave you alone. Needless to say you were wrong. Instead he decided to plop himself down on the couch without a care that jostled your body. You glared at him and he met your gaze with a stupid fucking smirk. On top of this he started to unpack his duffel bag noisily, tugging on the zipper with a strong force. You got up from the couch with a huff and locked yourself in your room with a slam of your door. This was going to be a strenuous couple of days.

The next day you woke up and found Jimin and Yoongi working outside to put shutters around the windows. This blowing wind was starting to pick up but the humidity was still high in the air. You stepped outside and greeted Jimin while he was busy holding the ladder to keep Yoongi stabilized. You retreated to get two cups of cold water to give the boys and when you came back outside Yoongi was wiping the sweat off his face with the front of his t-shirt. The way the fabric rode up to expose his pale skin and toned back had you staring without even realizing. Jimin was suddenly clearing his throat and when your eyes landed on his face he was staring at you with a raised eyebrow. You looked back at the cups and handed them both to Jimin and headed back inside without a word.

When they finished the project of the shutters the sliding door opened and when you walked in Min Yoongi’s shirt was off. You stared at his abs that were just as toned as his back. When the hell did he get so fit? Even his biceps were much bigger than you ever remember them. Why do you even remember the size of his biceps?

“You seem to have a staring problem princess, keep that up and I might do something about it.” His low voice took you out of your daze and you scoffed at his comment. “You come anywhere near me Min and I’ll punch you into next week. Watch yourself.” You slid your eyes back on the Netflix show that had lost your interest minutes ago. He just snickered and walked into Jimin’s room to take a shower.

Once the door was locked Jimin stood in front of the TV blocking your view with his hand on his hips. “What’s up with the sudden ogling you have for Yoongs? You wanna fuck him or something?” This made you burst out in sarcastic laughter. “Get real Jimin. I wouldn’t even touch him with a 10 foot pole.” you rolled your eyes at the thought of even getting touched by Yoongi. “Whatever you say, but your actions are contradicting the bullshit that you’re trying to convince me with.” And with that Jimin stalked off into to kitchen for a quick snack.

Later in the evening the thunderstorm was booming with thunder and you could see peeks of lightning through the shutters. The combination of these conditions with the howling wind has led the power to go out. Jimin searched for the lantern in the garage to bring back some light into the home. You were left with Yoongi in the living room and no words were said between the two of you. It's for the best. Yoongi felt like breaking the silence first.

“You know, I never understood why you can’t stand me princess. I don’t think I’ve done anything to wrong you.” He studied his nails as he talked. “First issue already is that dumbass nickname that you won’t stop calling me even though I told you endless times that I hate it.” “Aw, but I think it suits you and your stuck up behavior.” He sneered and this made you meet his eyes with a fiery glare. “Go fuck yourself Min. You’re one to talk about other people’s behaviors when you walk around like an arrogant ass. You have some fucking nerve.” The tension in the room was rising to levels that made it feel stuffy. Why the hell is it taking Jimin so long to find the lantern? “You think you know everything about me princess, but you don’t even know how wrong you are!” His voice was rising as he got up from the couch and he was now towering above your seated figure. “Well if I’m so wrong why don’t you prove it to me that you’re not some self-important prick.”

As soon as those words came out of your mouth his lips were colliding with your own and his fingers grasped your chin to keep you in place. You kissed back with the same amount of fervor and gripped the front of his sweatshirt. As soon as you let out a whimper of desperation, you heard the garage door open notifying you both of Jimin’s returning presence. Yoongi pulled away at light speed and took his seat back on the couch to keep the distance between you two. “What did I miss?” Jimin looked between the two of you with confusion spread on his face. You ignored his curiosity and retreated into your room before he could detect the flush spread across your face.

Since the power was lost the house became hotter as the night progressed and the sweatshirt you had was discarded for a cropped tank top and nothing more than panties for the bottoms. Your handheld fan lost power an hour ago since you decided to have it on full blast instead of trying to conserve the power to have it last longer. The sheen of sweat was building up on your skin and you went to the garage to get yourself a bottle of water to help cool down.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you opened the door and saw Yoongi’s figure in the garage too. “Christ, you scared the hell out of me!” You clutched your hand over your heart trying to calm your heart rate. You’re too frazzled to realize that you’re standing in front of Min Yoongi in just your panties and that he’s shirtless and only boxers. He smirked and slowly approached you. You pedaled backwards until your back hit the wall and was cornered by him. His eyes roamed over your body and smirked. “You know you drive my crazy princess?” You turned your face to the side to avoid eye contact, but his breath fanned your neck in the right way to make your heart race. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You murmured through pouted lips.

He took a small step back with his arms crossed over his chest. “Really? Because the way you were whimpering for me hours ago just from a kiss says otherwise.” You flushed at his words and you were again cornered by him. He slit his leg between yours and his thigh was just ghosting the already damp spot you have in your panties.”Well I can give you a little reminder and more to jog your memory.” He raised his thigh and planted his hands on your waist to keep you place. The sudden sensation has you gasping and rutting your hips to get more friction.

“Look at you, you’re like a bitch in heat rutting against my thigh. You’re so desperate for me already and I haven’t even done a thing princess. I can’t wait to fuck your shitty attitude out of you.” His words were starting to anger you. “Shut the fuck up!” You were too busy chasing your high to even want to give him the time of day to his taunting. To this, he swiftly removed his thigh and went back to standing straight. You were distressed and looked at him with wide eyes. What is wrong with him? “Yoongi what the fuck?” He wrapped his long, slender fingers around the column of your throat. “You think you deserve to fucking cum? With the way you’ve talked to me all these years I could edge you all fucking week. Don’t tempt me.” You shivered at his words. His fingers slithered in between your legs and pushed your panties to the side to tease your clit. You released a breathy moan and threw your head on his shoulder. “Tell me no right now and I’ll stop right now sweetheart. We won’t even have to talk about it ever again.” You shook your head against his shoulder. “I need words, that isn’t enough.” “I want you to fuck me Yoongi. Now stop talking and do something.” The desperation was so evident in your words and that’s all he needed to hear.

His dexterous fingers got to work and slipped into your sloppy cunt. The way his fingers pumped into you had your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “F-fuck Yoon right there!” Your thighs were shaking and your pussy fluttered the closer you were to your orgasm. At the last second you were about to cum Yoongi slipped out his fingers and slapped your pussy. You were panting now with how worked up you were.

“Take the panties off. Now.” You obliged with his words and his dark eyes made you even wetter if that was even possible because you are the most soaked you’ve ever been before. Nobody has ever made you feel as good as Yoongi is right now. Once your panties were off he dropped to his knees and stuffed his head between your legs. You propped up one of your feet on his thigh and he grabbed the back of your thighs to bring you closer. His lips wrapped around your clit and started sucking on it. Your moans were rising in volume and in pitch. His tongue dipping into your hole and licking your cunt made you feral. You gripped on to his hair and that sensation had him moaning against your core. That was enough to send you over the edge. You let out a strangled moan as you came all over his mouth. “Fuck, you taste so fucking good on my tongue.”

You didn’t even get a chance to regain your bearings before Yoongi's lips were on yours. The taste of him mixed with you had you groaning. His cock was straining against his boxers and he was rutting against your thigh and he nibbled on your lip and kissed you fervently. “Now you’re the bitch in heat on my thigh.” You chuckled, but Yoongi wasn’t in the mood for jokes at the moment. He stripped off his boxers and the sight of his thick cock had you drooling. He tapped the back of your thigh twice and instructed you to jump up. You followed his instructions and his hands gripped your thighs as he pressed you against the wall. He angled his cock against your entrance and bottomed out in one go. This had you screaming out in pleasure and your nails dragged against his back.

He fucked into you mercilessly and reveled in the sounds you made. Knowing he was making you feel this good and scream out inflated his ego beyond the atmosphere. “Tell me you’re only fucking mine.” He growled into your ear. You were so fucked out you could barely process his words. “Tell. Me. Princess.” He punctuated each word with a deep thrust that had you seeing stars. “F-fuck I’m only y-yours Yoongi! Only yours!” He grinned hearing this. The coil in your stomach snapped and brought you to your second orgasm of the night. “Who would’ve thought the bitch with the most to say would be creaming all over my fucking cock.” Yoongi was groaning through his words and his thrusts were starting to get sloppy. After a few more strokes he pumped your pussy full of his cum.

You both were out of breath and panting and you winced when his softening cock slipped out of you. You both suddenly jumped at the sudden knock against the garage door. Jimins voice rang through the other side. “I’m glad you’ve been able to reconcile, but you two are fucking loud!” You heard his footsteps fade away and you and Yoongi snickered at each other. Maybe Min Yoongi isn’t as bad after all.

#thebtswritersclub #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi fanfiction #min yoongi fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts x reader #min yoongi #min yoongi smut #whirlwind au #suga x reader #suga x you #suga x y/n #suga fanfic #bts suga #suga

691 notes · View notes

theloveinc · 10 months ago

Text

windbreaker x reader - sakura, suo, sugishita, kiryu, ume + togame AS DADS 🤍🤌🏻

(warning - mentions of bio kids/birth/nursing + etc!)

HARUKA SAKURA - goes from the panicked dad to the dad who can handle five children at once...

His first year of parenthood is mainly... chaos. It's him struggling to change a diaper with less than six baby wipes. It's him going on patrol with spit up on his shirt. It's falling asleep as soon as his head his the pillow, barely any spare moments left in the day to spend with you without baby by your sides.

His third year of parenthood, however? His third year has him with two kids on his hip and one hanging off his back, all while he's in the kitchen warming up bottles and scrambling eggs for lunch with enough time once everyone's down for a nap for him to sneak you into your bedroom to spend a surprise hour under the sheets.

It doesn't matter if the kids are his or not, he runs his household like a preschool military... even if, at the end of the day, he can't tell you how he managed to do it. Sakura always knows where every kid is stationed in the house, what they're all doing and want to do next, and who needs a meal or a nap or anything in between. It's like he's psychic of sorts, because one kid could just be popping out of their bedroom and he'd already have their milk and afternoon snacks at the ready.

He's also a miracle at handling fights and spats, able to sit down every single child involved and help them talk it out before making them apologize. It's almost as though he was made to be a dad... if his main purpose on earth wasn't already... fighting people?

(It makes sense, though; he's grown to be such a peace keeper.

That being said, just because he can handle five kids at once doesn't mean they can handle him. He can really be Mr. Tough Love sometimes, especially to kids that aren't his own and don't yet know he means everything with love.)

(Also, he will jog around the neighborhood with a stroller lmao, or power walk with the youngest on his back. The neighborhood ladies LOVE him. Keep him locked up for his own safety. Eventual dilf.)

HAYATO SUO - the dad to an extremely fussy baby...

Suo being the type of man that he is (and has always been)... you never would've guessed that one of the few things able to sway such an infallible man could be his very own baby.

That first year after your... very expressive... daughter is born is mostly spent with Suo in shambles. Neither of you are sure if it's just the lack of sleep and all the other emotions that come with being a first time dad that are making him so flustered when he can't figure out why she's crying or what she wants... or if your daughter really is just that powerful to have the almost-always-unfazed Suo so pissed at a piece of broccoli for simply existing under his daughter's nose.

Every patrol around town or date night or time spent without your daughter on his lap is time he spends PONDERING how he can master the whole... "being a good dad" thing. One of the few things he's not able to immediately master and pull off with grace.

He eentually gets the hang of it though, once his kids grow into their security and start acting just like him.

(For every kid you have, there's at least a year spent like this. No matter how much he's learned or how easy it becomes for him to read his children, it's like the process resets as soon another bugger shows up.

Of course, all his kids are born fussy because HE was a fussy baby. But don't tell him that.)

KYOTARO SUGISHITA - the "go get my wallet" dad...

Like all the time he spent in Ume's garden during his youth, when Sugishita becomes a dad, the best way he knows how to spoil his girls is by investing every single spare moment of his time at their side... and heeding every. single. one of their requests.

As soon as they're old enough to walk (and no longer need him carrying them around everywhere, which he is devastated about, btw)... he's not only trailing behind them everywhere, but also insisting they get whatever their little hearts could desire.

...which sometimes means he's secretly pulling out his wallet and paying off the employee at the zoo to let them stay another hour after their tickets expire... and sometimes means he's coming home from the grocery store with three extra bags of snacks and four, brand new toys.

(This indulgence of his does not go away even as they age. If his daughters want a caviar bento every day for lunch, they're getting that caviar bento no matter what. No matter the cost. No matter the labor. And yes, before you ask, he makes their lunches too.)

Discipline also doesn't really exist for this guy, it's lowkey embarrassing because YOU WOULD THINK it would, wouldn't you?

MITSUKI KIRYU - the dad whose kid ends up wearing mad drip to day care...

You know those memes that sometimes come around that are like... "hispter" or "swaggy" baby? Kiryu ends up with one of those, sort of... unintentionally, even if the outfits don't stop when you point out how much needless concern he has for his son's fashion.

(It's not even that he's trying to make your child is fashionable... it's just how naturally good he is at buying clothes; he always comes home from the department store with a whole ensemble rather than just the two or three pairs of shirts and pants you asked for.

It's a little... self-conscious-making, honestly... to walk into a preschool with the nicest dressed toddler in tow, wearing clothes even he doesn't care about, and that are obviously going to get dirty the second he starts playing in the dirt (which he does, practically the second you let go of his hand. He's a wanderer, lol.)

Not that Kiryu cares a thing about your baby making a mess in his specially chosen, mini flannel (not that I need to say so, but he does his share of laundry)... but when all the other kids are in regular leggings and Minecraft t-shirts... it's definitely sort of funny that yours wears baby converse and button-ups.

HAJIME UMEMIYA - picture man dad…

Not only does Ume have pictures of all his kids happiest moments and biggest milestones, he has pictures of every second in between:

Pictures from between your legs of your baby literally being born, videos of the next one crowning. Pictures of your kid's first poop, or of their diaper rash from when he panicked and tried to emergency contact your doctor. Pictures from the first night they slept in their big kid beds, to pictures of their first (and worst) pimples.

He's lowkey (highkey) a vlog dad without the youtube channel; similarly, he also tries to record everything. Birthdays, sibling fashion shows, nighttime routines, wake-ups on holidays, fights, YOU NAME IT, he's pulling out his phone.

You honestly wouldn't think he does anything with the pictures but sometimes you find him asleep in bed just going through everything... he loves his kiddos that much <3

(He never forgets to take pictures of you both, either. Mostly you, but also some of the moments you're together, like your outfits or when you're on a date. He wants to be able to hold on to his memories forever, and give his kids something to remember you both by when they grow up.)

(Almost everyone has him muted on social media too except for Sugi lmaooo because he posts way. too. many. pictures and writes 500 word captions even over something as small as a lost tooth...)

(And lmao, he has at least one kid who is always ready to strike a pose, and in fact, does strike a pose whenever there's a camera out.)

JO TOGAME - the most hands-on father who will NOT put his child down...

For Togame... fatherhood essentially turns him into a willing jungle gym... likely due to the fact that when your baby was first born, he happily took on the night feeds and changings and often fell asleep in the armchair right next their crib just waiting for the next time he could hold them...

But you know those dads you sometimes see out in public, who play with their kids the way they'd play with a monkey? No sooner than he's finally able to is he holding your child up on his shoulders or swinging them around by the ankles like a sack of potatoes every time they're together; causing you to have a heart attack whenever you witness it, and everyone in the general vicinity with a shitty partner to ask how you "got him to be so involved with raising with your kids."

(Of the two of you, he's actually the one who gets antsy when people who aren't close to either of you ask to see or touch the baby. He's the one who hovers cautiously when his cousins pester you about letting them have a turn holding the baby, or when another relative makes a joke about you hiding them from family when you just went off to nurse in private. He is Pissed and is not afraid to express that lmao.)

It's really a blessing and a curse... because on one hand it's sooo sweet to watch them together... but then on another, your child is just, if not more, clingy than him... and cries louder than any other kid in the room when Togame finally lets go of the hug on their first day of preschool.)

Thank you for reading!

#windbreaker x reader #jo togame x reader #haruka sakura x reader #hayato suo x reader #kiryu x reader #umemiya x reader #sugishita x reader #sakura #suo #togame #umemiya #kiryu #sugishita #kids tw #caitie post #gen #ask me about everyone individually and i will have even more for each of them lmao #anyway. sorry.

799 notes · View notes

4milly · 2 months ago

Text

make it to morning • jimmy u. 1

gif credit @punksrhea.

the tales of 2 roommates, and 1 man.

warning: unprotected sex, possessiveness, cheating, fingering, drunk sex, sex tapes, secret-relationships, pillow talk, oral sex (both m and f receiving), sneaky links, exhibitionism, manipulation, (warnings will update as story progresses)

parings: trinity x jimmy uso x malasia (black!oc) (no one is married in this story!)

inspired by @msbigredmachine !!! <3 for this amazing marvelous piece here xoxo ❤️

the music pumped through malasia's body. that mixed with endless counts of reposado shots? wasn't going to end well. she could feel the room beginning to turn. people jumping up and down all over the place, screaming out sexyy red's lyrics, the heat from the club. it was all damn near suffocating

if i don't get out this bitch, i'm going to fucking faint.

"girl, you good?" trinity yelled out above the music, and slightly less drunker than her.

"yea! i-i just need some air." she stumbled out of the section towards the outside. unaware, of trinity behind her.

trinity and malasia were far from best friends. or even friends. it was trinity's birthday, and wanting to be kind, she invited out malasia.

that was their relationship: practical, transactional. their paths rarely crossed in the apartment—trinity worked nights at a high-end restaurant on ocean drive, while malasia designed websites from their tiny dining room table.

they'd established silent routines: trinity made coffee before bed that malasia would reheat in the morning; malasia would wash any dishes before trinity woke up at noon.

the ad had been simple enough: "roommate needed. 2bed/2bath. south beach. $1100/month + utilities." malasia had responded within minutes of seeing it pop up on craigslist, desperate after her ex-boyfriend had decided their five-year relationship wasn't worth continuing—or helping with rent. she'd attached a brief bio, mentioned she was clean, employed remotely, and needed immediate housing. trinity had responded with equal brevity: "apartment tour thursday. 6pm. don't be late."

they'd spent exactly forty-seven minutes together before trinity handed over a key and a list of house rules. rule #7: "don't expect us to be friends."

"you feeling better?" trinity asked now, leaning against the railing. her birthday crown sat crooked on her braids, catching the neon lights from the club sign.

"yeah. just… went too hard." malasia took a long sip of water. "you didn't have to follow me out here."

"i didn't expect you to invite me tonight," malasia admitted, the tequila still loosening her tongue despite the fresh air.

trinity shrugged, "seemed rude not to. we've been living together for almost a month."

"living together" was a generous description for two people who existed in carefully orchestrated shifts to avoid meaningful interaction. malasia had moved to florida for a fresh start—new city, new people,

new malasia.

but so far, her fresh start consisted of zoom calls, takeout for one, and the occasional awkward nod to trinity in their shared hallway...

"well, h-happy birthday," malasia slurred and offered lamely, suddenly aware of how disheveled she must've looked.

trinity studied her for a moment, her expression unreadable in the dim light. "you know, you're nothing like my last roommate."

who? before malasia could ask, even though she could've cared less, jimmy and jey, jimmy's twin brother, busted outside, "damn, there y'all ass is. y'all wasn't gone say yall left out?" jimmy's voice boomed

"we just needed some air," trinity said, straightening her crown and immediately gravitating toward jimmy. his arm snaked around her waist possessively, but malasia couldn't help noticing how his eyes lingered on her—a fraction too long, a shade too...interested.

"you good, asia?" jimmy asked, his voice dropping an octave lower than when he'd addressed trinity. "looking a little unsteady on them heels."

"i'm fine," malasia managed, though the world still tilted slightly beneath her feet.

the tequila was playing tricks with her equilibrium, but she wasn't so drunk that she couldn't recognize the appreciative way jimmy's gaze traveled from her face down to her silver mini dress and back up again

jey cleared his throat. "yo, trin, that dj just announced they doing birthday shoutouts. you might wanna get back in there."

trinity's face lit up. "for real? hell yeah!" she tugged at jimmy's arm. "baby, come on."

but jimmy was still looking at malasia, that slow, deliberate smile spreading across his face—the same smile she'd seen three days ago when he'd "accidentally" brushed against her in the kitchen, his hand grazing the small of her back as he reached for a glass in the cabinet above her head. when he'd comment on her workout clothes as she passed through the living room.

"what about your roomie?" he asked, thumb brushing trinity's hip bone while his eyes remained fixed on malasia. "she don't look too good."

malasia swallowed hard. the way jimmy looked at her made her skin prickle with a confusing mixture of discomfort and something she refused to name. this was trinity's man—trinity who might not be her friend but who had still invited her tonight, who made coffee she could reheat, who had given her a place to live when she'd had nowhere else to go.

"nah—nah, i'm cool. i'm gonna just head back home." malasia had redirected the conversation back to trinity

trinity hesitated, clearly torn between her birthday spotlight inside and the roommate code she pretended not to care about. "you sure? we could all bounce if you're—"

"nah, baby, it's yo night," jimmy cut in, his voice smooth as butter. "i'll take her home. jey can stay with you, make sure you get all 'em birthday shoutouts."

"no no no," malasia quickly started, "i can call an uber or something. you should stay."

"it's cool," jimmy continued, already pulling his keys from his pocket. "i'll come right back. twenty minutes, tops."

malasia hesitated, her mind a fog of tequila and uncertainty. trinity's eyes narrowed slightly, but the pull of birthday attention was stronger than whatever suspicion flickered across her features.

"fine," trinity finally agreed. "but come right back, jimmy. it's my night." she pressed a quick kiss to his lips, her crown tilting precariously.

malasia gave trinity a small smile—part gratitude, part guilt—as jimmy's hand found the small of her back, guiding her toward the parking lot. she could feel the heat of his palm through the thin fabric of her dress, his fingers splayed wider than necessary.

"this way," jimmy said, his voice close to her ear. the parking lot was a maze of luxury cars and valet attendants rushing between them. jimmy's matte black g-wagon sat in a reserved spot near the entrance, gleaming under the streetlights like some predatory animal

he reached around her to open the passenger door, his chest pressing against her back for a moment longer than required. the leather seat was cool against her bare thighs as she slid in, suddenly aware of how high her silver mini dress had risen. she tugged at the hem, but the metallic fabric refused to cooperate, clinging to her skin.

jimmy walked around to the driver's side, his eyes never leaving her as he slid behind the wheel. the interior smelled of expensive cologne and new leather. he started the engine but didn't put the car in drive, instead turning toward her, one arm draped casually over the steering wheel.

"you good, ma? " his eyes traveled slowly from her face down to where her dress had ridden up again, exposing the smooth expanse of her thighs. "that dress straight fire on you."

malasia shifted uncomfortably. "thanks. can we just—i really need to get home."

he finally put the car in reverse, backing out of the space with one hand on the wheel, the other resting dangerously close to her knee. the music came on automatically—something slow and explicit that made the already small space feel even more intimate.

"you gotta man?" jimmy asked as they pulled onto the main road, the club's neon lights fading behind them. his question hung in the air between them, heavier than it had any right to be.

"no," she answered, then immediately regretted it. "i mean—i'm not looking for one either."

jimmy chuckled, a low sound that seemed to reverberate through the luxury car's interior. "everybody looking for something, asia." the way he said her nickname—drawing out the syllables—made her skin prickle, "good as you look? somebody fucked up."

at a red light, his eyes drifted to her legs again. "where's your dress from? it's cute, ma." his eyes flicked down to her thighs, his fingers tapped against the leather steering wheel in rhythm with the bass-heavy music.

"some boutique on lincoln road," she mumbled, tugging at the hem again. the dress had seemed perfect when she'd tried it on—sexy but not too revealing. now it felt like shrink wrap under jimmy's gaze.

"you must be making good money with them websites trinity says you design."

the mention of trinity's name sent a flush of guilt across malasia's face. trinity might have been just a roommate. but there was something about the way jimmy's eyes kept finding her in the dark that felt like a violation of something unspoken, something that existed beyond friendship. a roommate code. something.

trinity, who had invited her out tonight when she could have left her sitting alone in their apartment. trinity, who despite their careful dance of avoidance, had never been unkind.

"you quiet, ma," jimmy said, his voice cutting through her thoughts. "that tequila got you in yo feelin's or what?"

"just tired," she lied, pressing herself closer to the door.

her phone buzzed in her clutch. a text from her friend jade back in chicago: "how's the birthday party? meet any cute miami guys yet?" the irony made her stomach churn. or maybe that was the tequila. either way, she left the message unanswered, the blue light of her screen illuminating her guilty expression before she clicked it off.

they turned onto her street, the familiar row of low-rise apartment buildings coming into view. malasia had thought this place beautiful when she'd first arrived.

"i should go," malasia said, fumbling for the door handle. "thanks for the ride."

jimmy's laugh was low, teasingly. "damn, ma. i'm just being friendly. trinity told me you ain't got no friends down here yet."

boy, just go the fuck back to the club.

the observation stung with its accuracy. malasia had spent most of her first month in miami hunched over her laptop, building websites for clients who existed only as email addresses and zoom rectangles.

"i really need to go in," malasia repeated, reaching again for the door handle. this time jimmy pressed the unlock button, the doors clicking open.

she pushed the door open, grateful for the rush of humid night air that hit her face. standing proved more difficult than anticipated; the tequila had settled into her legs, turning them to rubber. her silver heels—borrowed from trinity, she realized with another stab of guilt—wobbled beneath her. the sidewalk tilted dangerously.

before she could stop herself, malasia stumbled, ankle twisting. she braced for impact with the concrete, but instead felt strong hands wrap around her waist, steadying her.

"i gotchu, ma. c'mon." jimmy's voice was close to her ear, his breath warm against her neck. his hands were firm on her waist, thumbs brushing against the exposed skin where her dress had ridden up. "let's get you inside, ight?"

malasia steadied herself, painfully aware of how their bodies fit together, of how trinity would see this if she were here. something about the way jimmy held her felt like a betrayal anyway.

"i can walk," she mumbled, pulling away slightly. but jimmy kept one arm firmly around her waist as they made their way to the building's entrance.

"this yo key?" he asked, plucking her clutch from her hands before she could protest. his fingers brushed against hers, the contact sending an unwelcome spark up her arm.

she watched as he rummaged through her things, finding her keys with unnecessary thoroughness. the elevator ride was seventeen seconds of exquisite torture. jimmy stood too close, his cologne filling the small space.

the apartment door clicked open under her key, the familiar darkness greeting malasia like an accomplice. the silence felt heavy compared to the pounding bass they'd left behind at the club.

"just need to get to my room," malasia said, attempting to disentangle herself from jimmy's grasp, but his arm remained firm around her waist.

"let me help you, ma. them shoes 'bout to be the death of yo ass."

finally breaking free of his hold. she kicked off trinity's silver heels, leaving them haphazardly by the door.

malasia made her way to the kitchen, desperate for water, for distance, for sobriety. the clock on the microwave read 1:37 AM—the green digits swimming before her eyes. she reached for a glass, her fingers trembling slightly.

"let me help you with that, ma." jimmy was suddenly behind her, his chest pressed against her back as he reached around her for the glass. his other hand settled on her hip, fingers splaying wide against the metallic fabric of her dress.

"i got it," she insisted, sliding sideways out of his grasp. "you should get back to trinity. her birthday and all."

jimmy leaned against the counter, watching her fill the glass with water.

"what's the rush? trinity got her whole squad there, her brother too. she cool." he stepped closer, taking the glass from her hand and setting it on the counter. "besides, i told her i'd make sure you got home safe. that's what i'm doing."

malasia took a step back. "well, i'm home now. safe and sound."

"you still looking wobbly to me." jimmy's voice dropped lower, feeling her out "might need to make sure you don't fall and hurt yourself."

"i'm good," she insisted, reaching for her water again. "really. you can tell trinity i made it fine."

jimmy chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "you nervous, asia? don't be like that." his fingers brushed against her hand, attempting to grab it. "we both grown. ain't nothing wrong with two adults getting to know each other better."

"you should go, jimmy." she said, but the words lacked conviction. she knew it. she felt it/

"lemme ask you some, asia." jimmy replied, moving closer.

malasia gripped the counter behind her, the cool granite pressing into her lower back. the kitchen suddenly felt impossibly small, "trinity's your girl. she's back up the club and you need to leave and go back there."

"trinity's my girl, yeah." jimmy nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "but that don't mean i can't appreciate what's standing right in front of me. do it?" his gaze traveled the length of her body, lingering on the curves the silver dress accentuated. "them little ass gym shorts? this little ass dress you got on...i peeped the way you kept tryna see if i was watchin'. you thought you was slick?"

malasia shook her head, trying to clear the fog of tequila and desire that clouded her judgment. she had to admit. when she first met jimmy, she couldn't deny he was sex on legs. but she buried those thoughts so deep out of respect for trinity.

"trinity—" malasia managed to whisper, but even her roommate's name sounded weak on her lips, a feeble protest against the tide rising between them.

"trinity ain't gotta know," jimmy murmured, his breath warm against her face. he was intoxicating in ways the liquor couldn't touch. "this just between us. just tonight."

she became aware at the touch of jimmy's hand coasting towards upwards. the dress slightly moving upwards bunching up on her waist. asia closed her eyes and leaned against his shoulder.

she'd been rushing to get ready and grabbed the dress at the last minute. it had a built-in slip that made underwear lines show, and she'd made a split-second decision that seemed harmless—

his foot kicked hers outwards, so his hand could drift between her thighs. she let out a small gasp as his hand covered her slicked pussy.

"that's why you was so careful sitting down," he murmured, his lips now close to her ear. "why you kept pulling at this dress all night."

she let out a small whimper, as his fingers circled over her clit. her body responded to his touch like an instrument perfectly tuned to his hands, each brush of his fingers drawing forth reactions she couldn't suppress.

"look at chu'" he whispered pressing kisses onto her neck, "soaking my fingers, while my girls out celebrating her birthday."

the mention of trinity should have been cold water, should have snapped her back to reality. instead, it added a forbidden edge that only heightened her response. jimmy's fingers circled her most sensitive spot, drawing forth a gasp she couldn't contain.

"jimmy," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the sound of their breathing. "we shouldn't—"

we should.

"but we are, mama," he replied, his voice husky with want. he withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his lips and tasting her essence, "goddamn, you taste good as you look. c'mere."

before she could protest further, jimmy bent slightly, wrapping his strong arms around her thighs and lifting her effortlessly. instinctively, her legs wrapped around his waist, the silver dress bunching completely at her hips now, exposing her to the cool air of the apartment and the heat of his body.

"which room is yours?" he asked, his eyes locked on hers, challenging her to stop this, knowing she wouldn't.

malasia hesitated, her last thread of resistance fraying dangerously. "second door on the right," she finally panted, the words feeling like both surrender and victory.

his hands gripped her ass, fingers digging into her flesh with a possessiveness that made her whimper into his mouth; his kisses where deep and consuming.

just like him.

her heart hammered against her ribs with anticipation, as he laid her down on the edge of the bed. her ass nearly just dangling off the edge. her silver dress now nothing more than a metallic band around her waist.

"tell me you whatchu want, mama." he demanded, his voice low and commanding as he unbuckled his belt. the sound of metal clinking sent a shiver down her spine. "say it loud. it's just us."

malasia swallowed hard, caught between desire and the image of trinity that floated at the edges of her consciousness.

trinity in her birthday crown. trinity who had invited her out tonight. trinity whose boyfriend was now standing between her spread legs.

jimmy leaned down, his weight pressing her into the mattress as he captured her mouth in another searing kiss.

when he pushed his pants down his hips, her breath caught audibly. he was magnificent—thick and long, already fully hard. pride gleamed in his eyes at her reaction, at the way her lips parted involuntarily.

he lowered himself between her thighs again, but instead of entering her, he took his length in his hand and began to slide it through her wetness. the sensation sent electric currents racing up her spine—the hot, hard length of him gliding against her pussy, coating himself in her arousal but never pushing inside.

she let out a loud moan, as the base of his dick rubbed against her clit. "fuck," she gasped, her hips rising instinctively to increase the pressure.

"ask me nicely, baby. tell me whatchu want me do, asia." he panted in her ear, pressing hot kisses against her collar bone.

trinity was a thought long gone. the guilt still present in her stomach was intense. she wanted to be rid of it. and jimmy. but how could she when he was laying on top of her about to stretch her right around his dick.

"please.." she finally managed, and regretfully. the words were barely audible.

"please what? hm? what is it?" jimmy pressed further onto her pussy,

"fuck! jimmy, fuck me! oh god—" she let out a gasp as jimmy slid all the way home, burying himself inside, his thick length stretching her in ways that made tears appear at the corner of her eyes. malasia arched beneath him, her body stretching to accommodate his size.

"goddamn," he hissed through clenched teeth, "you tight as fuck."

he established a rhythm that had her clutching at his shoulders, nails digging crescents into his skin.

each thrust drove her further up the bed until he wrapped his arms around her waist in a bearhug, pulling her back to the edge, keeping her exactly where he wanted her. his muscular forearms flexed beneath her, holding her in place as he drove into her relentlessly.

"that's right, mama. just lay back. you taking this dick so good, asia. so. fucking. good." each word was punctuated with a thrust that hit something deep inside her, something that made her curl her toes and arch her back.

her fingers tangled in his close-cropped hair, nails scraping against his scalp as she held on for dear life.

"jimmy," she gasped, as he hit a spot deep inside that made stars burst behind her eyelids. "oh my god—"

he shifted his grip, large hands sliding down to cup her ass, fingers digging into the thick soft flesh as he used the leverage to drive deeper into her pussy. obscene sounds of their sexing bouncing off the walls, sounded like a song.

it would go diamond if you heard it.

the silver dress was bunched uncomfortably between them now, the metallic fabric scratching against her sensitized skin. jimmy reached down, yanking it over her head in one fluid motion, tossing it carelessly to the floor. her breasts spilled free, nipples hardening instantly in the cool air of the room.

he moved his hands under her knees to push them against the bed. his eyes glued to the image of his dick pressed into her pussy.

she felt a fire building inside her belly. she should've pushed him away. make him go. but the adrenaline pumping in her veins made her lay back and moan his name.

"we shouldn't—" she tried again. wanting to convince herself this was wong...it was wrong. but her protest dissolved into a moan as he circled his hips, grinding against her in a way that made her thighs tremble.

"the way this pussy gripping me? lookin like you dont ever want me leave." he growled, tightening his grip on her ass.

malasia's head fell back, exposing her throat to his hungry mouth. he took advantage immediately, sucking at the sensitive skin beneath her jaw, surely leaving marks she'd have to hide tomorrow. the thought of trinity seeing them sent another conflicted wave of guilt and arousal through her.

jimmy must have seen the flicker of guilt cross her face because he leaned down, capturing her lips in a bruising kiss that drove all thoughts from her mind. he wrapped his arms around her in a tight bear hug, lifting her slightly off the bed. her breasts pressed against the hard plane of his clothed chest.

"don't think about her," he commanded against her mouth. "think about how good you feelin'."

to emphasize his point, he drove into her harder, deeper, the new angle making her cry out. her arms wound around his neck, fingers tangling in his close-cropped hair, holding on as he pounded into her. the room filled with the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin, of her wetness accepting him over and over.

malasia couldn't form words, could only respond with desperate moans as pleasure built inside her. jimmy's hands slid down to cup her ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh, controlling her movements, forcing her to take every inch of him.

"this what you been needing, ain't it?" he panted, voice rough with exertion. "this why you been walking around half-naked. wanting me to see you. wanting me to fuck you just like this?"

"jimmy, i can't—i'm gonna—" her words faltered as pressure built low in her belly, a tightening coil of sensation threatening to snap. her pussy latching onto him like a deathtrap wetting him up

"hah, not yet," he commanded, suddenly slowing his pace to torturous, deliberate strokes. "look at me first. i wanna see your face when you cum on my dick."

she forced her heavy lids open, meeting his intense gaze. the raw desire she saw there nearly undid her—how long had it been since anyone had looked at her that way? like she was something to be devoured, something precious and rare?

"that's it. you feel that ma? wanna feel every inch of this pussy." he held himself above her now, arms braced on either side of her head, watching her face with an intensity that made her feel both seen and exposed.

malasia whimpered, her body trembling beneath him as he withdrew almost completely before sinking back in with excruciating slowness. the drag of him against her walls sent sparks shooting up her spine, each nerve ending screaming for more, faster, harder—but jimmy maintained that devastating pace, a half-smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he watched her squirm.

"touch y'self for me, baby. give her some attention. she deserves it."

she hesitated. a fleeting moment of shyness washing over her despite their current position. no one had ever asked her to do this—to participate in her own pleasure so explicitly, so visibly.

"don't get shy on me now, ma," he coaxed, his free hand guiding hers downward. "show me how you like it."

her fingers trembled as they slipped between their bodies, finding the slick swollen bundle of nerves where they were joined. the first circle of her fingertips made her gasp, electricity shooting up her spine. jimmy watched, transfixed, as she began to touch herself—hesitant at first, then with growing confidence as pleasure mounted.

"that's it," he encouraged, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. "just like that."

the dual sensation was overwhelming—his thick length stretching her while her own touch built a different kind of pressure. her eyes stayed locked to his, as her mouth formed an O shape. tears began to spill from her eyes as her thighs started to shake.

"whose making you feel this good? hm? whose fuckin you right now? you mines, aintchu?"

the possessiveness in his voice should have repelled her. instead, it sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through her veins, pooling low in her belly where he was buried deep inside her.

"you," she cried out, her nails digging crescents into his shoulders. "you are."

"nah. that ain't enough," slowing his pace to torturous, deliberate strokes that made her squirm beneath him. he slapped her hand away to rub her clit fiercely, "whose pussy is this?"

"it's yours," she sobbed, the guilty admission flooding her center, "'i'm yours, jimmy. please—i need to cum. please, please let me cum."

"that's right," his hips continues their merciless assault on her pussy, until she started to babble incoherently, "lemme feel it, baby. go ahead, pretty girl."

a triumphant smile spread across his face, predatory and satisfied. the pressure in her belly finally snapped in violent waves, flooding jimmy with her arousal. her muscled clenching as jimmy continued his relentless pace.

her vision blurred, pleasure radiating outward from her core in concentric circles that made her toes curl and her fingers twist in the sheets. she heard herself crying out—desperate, broken sounds she barely recognized as her own. her thighs quivered uncontrollably, her inner walls gripping him with each pulse of her release.

"fuck," Jimmy hissed, his rhythm faltering as her body squeezed him. "you feel so fucking good when you cum."

with a final, brutal thrust, jimmy buried himself to the hilt and let go. his rhythm faltering as her body milked him. his body went rigid above her, muscles tensing as he spilled himself inside her with a groan that seemed to emanate from the depths of his soul. she could feel each pulse of his release, hot and thick, filling her completely.

for several heartbeats, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing, the distant hum of the air conditioner, and the faint ticking of the clock on her nightstand. reality hovered at the edges of her consciousness, waiting to crash in.

and then it did.

the clock—3:27 AM. almost an hour and 30 minutes had passed. the tears came without warning, hot and shameful as they slid down her temples into her hair. jimmy lifted himself onto his elbows, looking down at her with an expression that shifted from post-coital satisfaction to something harder, more calculating.

"hey, hey," he whispered, brushing a tear away with his thumb. "c'mon. none of that. you aight, ok? we aight. relax, baby."

"oh god! what did i do, oh my god." malasia cried out into the air. his causal dismissal of her distress only made her tears flow faster, sobs echoing around the room before her hand could catch them.

"shh, these walls thin as hell," jimmy whispered, pressing a hand against her lips. His eyes, so full of desire moments ago, now held something else—more, "don't cry, ma. i gotchu, yea? you felt good? don't cry over some that felt good, ight?"

malasia's tears continued to flow silently beneath his palm. her chest heaved with the effort of containing her sobs, guilt and shame swirling together. jimmy removed his hand slowly, watching her carefully to ensure she wouldn't start wailing again.

she turned her face away, shame burning through her chest. "trinity—"

"don't think about that right now," jimmy interrupted, gently turning her face back toward him. his thumb traced the outline of her bottom lip. "just think about how nice it felt. how perfect we fit t'gether."

his words washed over her like a balm, soothing the ragged edges of her conscience. she wanted to believe him—that this hadn't been just a terrible mistake, a betrayal born from loneliness.

he withdrew from her body with careful movements, and she winced at the sudden emptiness, at the warm trickle of their combined fluids running down her thighs and onto the edge of her comforter.

"don't move," he stated before fixing himself up. she watched through tear-blurred vision as he tucked himself back into his pants and fixed his shirt. he turned to leave the room—more than likely to the bathroom.

jimmy returned with a warm, damp washcloth, kneeling beside the bed. he leaned down to flick his tongue inside her mouth, tasting her one last time, as the towel swiped against her tendered area. he cleaned their combined release from her inner thighs, from between her folds, his touch clinical yet somehow special.

jimmy's movements were practiced—too practiced, a distant part of her mind noted.

"lift up," he murmured, helping her sit upright on the edge of the bed. he moved off the bed towards her closet with a casual confidence; he knew she wouldn't question him or...this anymore.

at least for tonight.

he picked out a plain oversized shirt and a pair of panties to dress her in. he returned to her, bunching the fabric in his hands before easing it over her head. he guided her arms through the sleeves with surprising tenderness. the shirt fell to mid-thigh, covering her nakedness but not the memory of what they'd done.

he lifted one ankle, then the other, sliding the underwear over her feet, then up her calves, her knees. his fingers brushed against the tender skin of her inner thighs as he pulled the fabric higher.

"lift," he said again, and she raised her hips, allowing him to settle the cotton against her still-sensitive flesh.

when he finished, he remained kneeling between her legs, looking up at her with an expression she couldn't decipher. his hands rested on her knees, thumbs tracing small circles on her skin.

"you good?" he asked, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room.

malasia nodded, though she was anything but good. her body hummed with satisfied pleasure while her mind screamed with regret.

"lemme getchu' some water," jimmy said, rising from his position between her knees.

she watched him move through her darkened bedroom with the confidence of someone who belonged there—not a visitor, not an intruder, but someone claiming space.

when he returned, he cradled the back of her head like she was something fragile, something precious, as he held the glass to her lips. the water was cool against her throat, washing away the taste of tequila and regret. his thumb wiped away a droplet that escaped the corner of her mouth, then lingered there, tracing the outline of her bottom lip.

"you still crying?" he asked, his voice softer than she'd ever heard it. In the faint light filtering through her curtains, his eyes looked almost tender.

malasia shook her head, though she could still feel the dampness on her cheeks. "I'm just…" the words wouldn't come. how could she explain the hurricane inside her? the way her body still hummed with pleasure while her conscience screamed in protest?

jimmy set the glass down and took her face in both hands, his palms warm against her tear-stained cheeks, "you good. we good. this stays between us, yeah? our little secret. it's gone be trinity and me, but that don't mean it can't be me and you, too. ight?"

she was unable to form words around the lump in her throat.

how could she agree with his sick lullaby?

jimmy leaned in, his lips brushing against hers. despite every warning bell clanging in her mind, malasia found herself responding. the kiss deepened, his hand sliding from her chin to cradle the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair as she kissed him with just as much passion.

time seemed to stretch and compress simultaneously—the kiss could have lasted seconds or hours, malasia couldn't tell.

"i can't," she whispered, but even as she said it, her body betrayed her—leaning into his touch, craving more of the connection that had left her so thoroughly undone.

"you already did, mama." jimmy reminded her, his voice a silken caress. "and you liked it. you wanted it. we both wanted it and we both know that."

the moment felt like it should've belonged to lovers, not to whatever tangled, illicit thing they had just created.

"i gotta get back," he murmured, though he made no move to leave. his fingers traced idle patterns on the bare skin of her thigh where her oversized shirt had ridden up. "trinity's probably wondering where i'm at."

with me...

malasia nodded, but her hands betrayed her, fingers still clutching his shirt. the thought of him leaving—of being alone with what they'd done—sent a wave of panic through her chest. the room would feel too empty, too full of echoes and implications.

he gave her a small kiss, before turning to leave. after he closed her room door, she waited until she heard the front door lock before laying down and finally crying to herself. after what felt like hours, she lifted her phone to see another text from jade, and an instagram notification.

j.us.im has sent you a friend request.

j.us.im: she's staying with me t'night.

j.us.im: taking her to her girls place tomorrow.

j.us.im: can't stop thinking about you now ma. don't matter what you tell yoself.

j.us.im: you ain't going no where.

what did she get herself into?

heyyyy, everyoneeee.

this one????….its intense. it’s gonna be intense. 🙂‍↕️ i can’t get enough of a nice toxic trope. but dw. ill be continuing the valentines day writings still. so we’ll get some sweet-ish too😜.

i’ve been going crazy yall. college is draining me. but my spring break is upon us. so i’ll finally get a chance to relax.

tell me in the comments what you guys think !

🏷️: @lizes-posts @uceyliyahh @punksyeet @charmed-dreamssss @msbigredmachine @shes2real @prettyfilmz @caramelcleopatraa @harmshake @luvrsluxe @angiedawn02 @amandairene88 @cyberdejos2 @queeny23 @empressdede @trentybenty @heauxvibez @whatdoeseverybodywant @romansthrone @acknowledge-reigns @southerngirl41 @jaza23 @usoinked @fearlesschimera @holycollectivekitty @trippinsorrows

257 notes · View notes

rottenblur · 1 year ago

Text

Post workout pump|A.ANDERSON

Abby x fem reader 2.3k

Summary: Your gym rat Tinder date isn’t one to not kiss on the first date, a coffee date is much more interesting with her.

WARNINGS: public shit, public fingering??? Dirty talk, Abby being bold as hell, head!! Fingering, quick mention of that liquor. Fucking on the first date.

Abby’s Tinder profile was simple, a couple of gym rat pictures, and a couple cute candid ones someone had taken of her with a background of beautiful scenery. The one that made you swipe on her was a picture of her smiling in the forest, normally you wouldn’t go for “outdoorsy” people, you wanted someone you could comfortably rot away with.

It was her fucking smile. The way that her hair practically glowed in the sunlight peaking through the trees, how her freckles complimented every feature on her face. It wasn’t just her looks though, you weren’t that shallow. Her bio was simple, simple in a way it didn’t seem like she was faking it for people to like her.

“Will fight for you.” And you believed it with every inch of your body, she looked like fought off bears for a living. She could break you in half, part of you wanted her to.

Your conversation on the app was short, you gave her your number pretty fast, I mean she asked for it.

You got a text from a random number quickly after you gave it to her.

(7xx) 8xx-6xxx: Hey beautiful.

You replied quickly.

You: Hey.. this abby?

The typing bubbles popped up immediately, she responded fast and used punctuation, which was rare. In your experience, and probably rare to everyone on dating apps. To be honest, this was your first time on a dating app, you had too much on your plate to even think about dating since high school.

Abby: [IMAGE ATTACHED]

Abby: Sure is.

The picture was a live photo in a gym mirror, she had dumbbells resting by her feet, her body covered in a tank top and loose basketball shorts. Her muscles were huge, you didn’t think someone could be that strong, the sweat making them shiny didn’t help how hard you were staring right now.

You: oh my god…

That’s all you can get out, you have no thoughts.

You: i’m blushing

You throw your phone, you’ve only been talking to her for maybe an hour and yet she already has you wrapped around her finger.

The text bubbles pop up, she’s typing.

Abby: Aw, such a sweet girl, already blushing for me.

If you weren’t blushing before, you were now. You couldn’t stand another minute not being with her.

You: are you busy today? I need to see you

Text bubbles pop up, then disappear, come back then disappear again. Read, for ten minutes. Were you moving too fast? You put your phone down, tidying up your room to distract yourself from the stress. You get into the shower, your phone on the sink counter for music. You wash your hair when your phone starts ringing, fuck.

You grab the towel hanging up, drying off your hands and step out of the shower to pick up your phone, it’s her. You press the green accept button and put the phone up to your ear, pushing your wet hair out of the way.

“Hey.” She says. Her voice, oh my fuck, her voice. It was gentle but so heavy with intent, she sounded like she only spoke if she meant it.

“Hi.” You respond back, wrapping the towel around your body and stepping out of the bathroom to make sure she heard you well.

“God, you sound adorable. I’m not busy, just at the gym right now but I’m free in thirty minutes if you wanna go for coffee.” She says, you can hear the dumb bells banging in the back now.

Your mouth falls open, she really wants to see you? A date? Today? You forget to speak.

“Yeah, yeah please. Where to?” You respond back.

You hear her laugh slightly, then take a breath. “I’ll text you the address beautiful, you’ll like it I know you will.” God people making decisions for you was suddenly so hot.

You agree and giggle, uncontrollably. “Bye bye.”

“See ya.” She says then hangs up. Fuck you were nervous.

You get a text from her, the address was a small locally owned coffee shop just down the street from you, maybe she lived close. Surprisingly you had never been there before, maybe you could have met her sooner if you stepped out of your comfort zone more often, you would have met her sooner.

Twenty minutes had passed, you got back into the shower, finishing it and getting ready. Drying your hair and throwing on a cute fitting outfit, something easy, or just easy access, hey you weren’t against doing stuff on the first date, especially not with her.

You walk to the coffee shop, texting her when you arrive at the front doors, her assuring you she was already there. She was early, you liked that.

You walk inside and that's when you see her. She was in the back, in a booth manspreading under dimly lit lights. You walk over towards her, her hands set on the table, fiddling with a stir stick. She looks up and sees you, her blue eyes light up. She stands up, she towers over you. You look up at her, her freckles are even cuter in person.

“Hey beautiful, you look you know..beautiful.” She says looking you up and down. You smile at her muttering a greeting back. You were almost shaking, she was perfect, everything you could have ever wanted.

“You want a drink? I’ll order, just finished mine.” She says, placing a hand on your upper arm, it engulfed your arm in full. You nod and tell her your order. She smiles at you and walks off to order, you sit down scooting to the inside. A one-sided booth, leaving no choice but to sit right next to her, her boldness was attractive.

She comes back, placing your drink on the table in front of you, scooting herself right next to you placing hers next to yours. You pick up your drink taking a sip, as she lays her arm on the booth behind your back spreading her legs, getting comfortable. “Was that picture from today?” You refer to the picture she sent you earlier. She nods turning her head to look at you.

Her strawberry blond hair slightly damp presumably from a shower, her blue t-shirt clung to her arms, her jeans tight to her legs. God.

“You like what you see?” She says tilting her head at you, looking you up and down in return. You nod shyly looking away as you fiddle with the end of your skirt. She catches that, flicking your hands away, replacing them with hers. “You wear this for me? I like it, looks really good on you sweetheart.”

God the pet name, her hands on you, on your clothes. Her compliments, she has you melting. “I wore it for you Abby.” You say looking at her, she looks up from your legs to your eyes. She smiles, rubbing your cheeks, keeping one hand on your thigh. “God you’re adorable, I got you blushing already.” She takes her hand off your cheek and takes a sip of her drink.

“What made you want to talk to me?” She says as she rubs her thumb on your engulfed thigh. You’re fighting to not squeeze your thighs together. You look at her lips, and her eyes then respond. “You’re pretty, I mean you’re hot, you’re intimidating it’s attractive.” You say. She nods, humming a response to you.

“Well, I thought about how fucking cute you’d look with my head between your thighs.” She said it so innocently, her hand moving up under your skirt, you couldn’t handle it your trap her hand by squeezing your thighs together.

She clicks her tongue at you tapping your thigh with her free thumb for you to open your legs. You submit to her order, opening your legs for her. Her finger grazes your clothed clit, your panties wet from her teasing. You look at her and finally respond. “I’d like that, alot.” Your cheeks were burning up, your whole body was burning up with need.

She leans in closer to you, whispering into your ear. “You’re so perfect, so fucking ready for me, so beautiful.” A whine falls out of your mouth, uncontrollably. Her fingers continue dancing from your clit to your slit, teasing you no, torturing you.

You place one elbow on the table, the other gripping Abby’s thigh, you were dripping onto your skirt it was unbearable. You finally mutter out exactly what you need to say.

“I need you Abby, I need you.” You say. She pulls her hand away, awwing in response, turning your head towards hers with a grip on your chin. She smiles and shakes her head. “Ask nicely beautiful.” You lick your lips and nod. “I need you please, please Abby.

She lets go of your face, standing up and holding out a hand for you, you take it letting her pull you up out of the booth. Your legs were weak, even trembling, she noticed this and smirked at you.

She drove the two of you to her apartment, so fucking close to yours, her hand on your thigh the whole way there, her glances never made you blush any less each time. She parks her car and guides you up to her apartment with your hand clutched all the way there.

She unlocks her door, leading you in first, she walks in behind you, and kicks off her shoes. She grabs you, pushing you against the door connecting your lips with hers, locking the door with one hand, the other wrapped around your waist.

She pulls away, looking at you with those lustful blue eyes, they looked much brighter when you first met her but now there's nothing darker. She locks lips with you picking you up and carrying you towards her bedroom, her hands full of ass.

She’s mirroring your whimpers into the kiss with grunts, your arms wrapped around her neck. As she enters the bedroom with your legs wrapped around her, you fiddle with her braid, undoing it and running your fingers through the loose strands.

She throws you down onto the bed, the plush duvet sinking behind your back. Your quick breaths are loud in the quiet room, Abby stares are you eating you up with her eyes. “What do you want beautiful?” she says to you, stripping her jeans off revealing her grey boxer briefs, a wet spot that catches your eye. Apparently, you're not the only one worked up.

When you don't respond she hums a “hmm?” to you pulling you from your thoughts. “I want you, I want to feel you everywhere Abby.” A quiet grunt comes from the back of her throat. She leans to you, putting her knees on the bed and caging you in with her arms. She kisses you, her tongue tangled with yours. She pulls away to strip her shirt from her body, tossing it aside.

You admire her body, stripped from her tight t-shirt her muscles look even bigger. She places your hands on her shoulders pulling your shirt off. She leans down to unhook your bra and kisses you.

She scans your body, her eyes make you want her even more. She kisses your lips, pushing her knee in between your thighs applying the perfect amount of friction as she moves to make out with you.

She kisses down your bare chest sucking purple spots all the way down your stomach, your neck to your hips littered in hickeys. “So fucking good for me.” She mutters out as she flips the hem of your skirt up onto your stomach. She kisses the inside of your thighs, whines and whimpers falling out of your mouth with need.

She leaves marks leading up to your panties, now even wetter with want. She pushes them to the side, taking a quick lick and sucking on your clit then looking up at you. Her eyes, her face from the angle could make you cum right there and then.

“You taste so fucking good beautiful.” You were melting. She attaches her mouth back to your clit spiralling circles with her tongue, holding your hips down with one hand.

She rubs your hip as you fight to ride her face, take control. She sucks your clit and pushes two fingers inside, filling you so well. Her fingers found places inside you, you never knew existed.

Her tongue quickens it's pace as so does her fingers pumping in and out of you. Moans fall from the back of your throat, you can hear Abby’s grunts vibrating against your clit.

She disconnects her mouth, pumping and curling her fingers to the perfect spot at a brutal pace, she looks up at you, arched back gripping the blanket. “Such a good fucking girl.” Her praises push you over the edge. She connects her lips back pulling you quickly to your climax. You look down to her, as your thoughts dissapear.

You pulse all over her fingers, and she pulls them out, kissing your thigh. She looks back at you, as she sucks you off her fingers. “So good sweetheart, so goddamn good.” She crawls her back up to your lips kissing you gently.

She whispers into your ear. “You make such pretty noises for a slut.” That shocked you, after all those praises, she degraded you. It had you ready for round two all in eight words.

She lays next to you, looking you up and down. “Want a drink?” She asks.

You nod, she gets up tossing you her t-shirt and a fresh pair of underwear from her drawer, a pair of black boxers. They were loose resting on your hips as the shirt went to mid thighs.

She walks out of the room, and you follow her sitting on the couch as she pulls a bottle of dark liquor from her bar cart. You lay down, she sits down placing your legs on top of hers passing you the drink. She tucks her hair behind her ear and looks at you, placing her hand on your thigh.

“Wanna stay the night?”

A/N: AHHHH I wrote this really fast if there are any spelling mistakes/ grammar mistakes LOOK AWAY. I love Abby thank you.

2K notes · View notes

bamboobooshark · 8 months ago

Note

IM BEGGING FOR A LOGAN X FEM READER WHO CAN TURN INVISIBLE BUT WHEN SHES NERVOUS OR FLUSTERED SHE DISAPPEARS INVOLUNTARILY essentially it’s just logan flustering reader till she disappears??? (mostly fluff but also suggestive/smut end)

LOGAN HOWLETT X F!READER

˖⁺‧₊˚ ㅤ⚜️ 𝜚 SHY AWAY : 1.3K WRDS

<RATING: PG-13, FLIRTING, SOME LANGUAGE, KISSING>

A/N : Soooo as far as “suggestive/smut” end goes, the most you’re getting is some mild flirting and kissing. I do have my age in my bio and my pinned; I am a minor! Sorry to disappoint anyone, but I doubt it would be socially acceptable for me to write anything too suggestive. Post writing note; I made this way longer than I intended to OOOOOPS !!Warning: Detailed kissing and use of pet names!!

Out of all the mutations the universe could’ve graced you with, you were damned with involuntary invisibility. Sometimes it could come in hand when you’re about to be harmed. You have a sixth sense of fear, and any time it kicks in, you go invisible. That sixth sense has saved your life a handful of times, to be fair. However, the past month has been hell for you. You met a fellow mutant through your friend Rogue. Logan Howlett is his name. You’re so envious of his mutation. Built in claws that aid him in being up front and in the enemies’ faces rather than hiding away in plain sight.

You sheepishly walk over to Logan, already nervous that he’ll cause a sudden disappearance. He’s lounging in one of the chairs within the common room. One of his legs crosses on top of the other. Rogue is sitting on the couch across from him, reading some romance book that she’s been telling you all about. She glances up at you, and before she can speak, you give her a face, begging her not to speak. She looked back down at her book without another gesture.

Logan takes another drag of his cigar while leaning back a bit in the recliner. You walk in front of him and sit next to Rogue with a light smile on your lips. “Heya, girl! What brings you down here?” she asks as she gives you a quick hug. You hug her back and shrug. “Not much. Just missed you and Logan,” you say casually, subtly trying to catch Logan’s attention. It works, and he shoots you his iconic look with one eyebrow raised in slight confusion. He takes his cigar out of his mouth between his pointer and middle, causing you to shiver slightly at the sight. “Missed me? Why the hell would you miss me, doll? I’m nothin’ special,” he tells you as his expression becomes more relaxed.

You feel your heart flutter and your mind fill with anxiety of you going invisible. You try your best to keep yourself together before replying to him. You tug at the neck of your shirt and bit and attempt to get comfortable. “Well, I just like being around you. You seem pretty comfortable around me, and you’ve been nothing but welcoming since Marie introduced me to you.” You ramble while trying your best to maintain eye contact with Logan, but ultimately end up looking in his direction instead. He raises his eyebrows and shrugs slightly in response. “Alright. Thanks for checkin’ on us then, princess,” he says with a soft smile. Damn, that does it for you. Your cheeks feel like fire before you go invisible. You quietly hold in an annoyed and embarrassed groan. You look to your side and see Marie looking down at her book in attempts to hide her snickering and smiling at the situation. You roll your eyes before you glance over at Logan. His lips are slightly parted, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Kid, am I crazy or did your friend just disappear?” he asks with slight concern. Marie lets out a few strangled laughs before wiping stray tears from her eyes. “Yeah. That happens sometimes,” she huffs out. Her eyes point in your direction before she smirks mischievously. “Usually when she’s really flustered. But it happens when she’s feeling some strong emotions too. I’m sure it’s the first case though,” she says to Logan before going back to her book.

Logan nods in understanding before taking another drag of his cigar. He keeps it between his lips this time.

Soon enough, you fade back into sight, and Logan immediately gazes at you. “Welcome back,” he murmurs against his cigar. You smile idiotically at him and nod your head to let him know you heard him. Marie looks at you and nudges your elbow, encouraging you to say more. You subtly shake your head no, but gain a knowing look from her in response. You bite at the inside of your cheek in anticipation for what she’s about to do. She stretches and lets out a bit of a groan before getting up on her feet. “I think I’ll be heading to my room now. I might hit the hay soon,” she tells the two of you before walking off.

Logan’s gaze lingers on you, and he smirks at you. Your cheeks began to heat again. The chair squeaks as he gets up and walks over to you. One of his hands goes to slip a thumb through his jeans’ belt loop. The other reaches for his cigar and falls to his side. He stands in front of you, looking down at you with a soft smile. “I don’t bite, baby girl. I know the huge metal claws could be a bit intimidating, but I swear I’d never hurt ya’. Alright?” he asks sweetly as his hand moves from his belt loop to your shoulder. He gently rubs his thumb against it while awaiting your response. You sit there for a few seconds in shock. You haven’t disappeared yet, but you wish you could right now. Your flesh is burning up so much that you’re sure Logan can feel it through your clothes. He leans in close to your face, his pupils right on yours, causing you to look away. “Hey. Look at me,” he asks gently while waiting for your eyes to meet his again. When you sink into yourself, Logan grunts, puts out his cigar, and uses his hand to hold your cheek in his palm. You involuntarily lean against the calloused skin, causing him to chuckle. In fear of him pulling away because of your defiance, you decide to look at him again. “That’s it,” he murmurs. You let out a quiet whine at his praises, and it does nothing but fuel the fire in Logan’s chest. You let yourself relax, your eyelids feeling a little heavy, your chest rising in falling shallowly. You’re not sure if you’re seeing right though when you see him lean in. His breath is strong with the scent of cigar smoke, but you ignore it the best you can. You’ve been waiting for this since you’ve met him. Both of you slowly close your eyes as his lips press to yours. You immediately go invisible, but that doesn’t mean you’re not physically there. Logan’s hand that was previously on your shoulder moves to cup your other cheek. His hand doesn’t miss your face. Fuck, it’s like he spends so much time looking at you that he has your entire figure mapped out in his head. You wouldn’t be too surprised if he genuinely did. He slightly leans more against you, your head and back pressing against the fabric of the couch. You can feel his legs shift between yours as he attempts to get as close as he can to you. The two of you unwind with each other. Your mouth opens for him, and he kisses you deeper. You breathe into each other, finding a good rhythm that keeps the two of you connected for longer than anticipated. But when you finally pull back, you are panting like a dehydrated dog. Your mouth goes dry as you realize you’ve been invisible since Logan started kissing you. He chuckles softly, his head hanging down in front of you. He catches his breath while attempting to look back up at you. His thumbs caress your cheeks before he leans in near your ear. “I know I can’t see you, doll, but I know you look so damn pretty and wide-eyed right now,” he mutters to you, causing your hands to clasp over your mouth to muffle your gasp.

#wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x y/n #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #hugh jackman #kissing #caressing #kinda suggestive #if you squint #but not really idk #bambooboofic #bamboobooanswers #bamboobooshark

450 notes · View notes

bwabys-scenarios · 1 year ago

Text

Cherub(NSFW)

Illumi x Chubby!Reader

NSFW: @lightshowerrr @stygianoir @highbats69 @jungtoast @nenggie @pannacottababy

If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!

Illumi absolutely adores his cute, chubby little wife.

You weren't someone his parents approved of, but they were at least glad he finally chose someone to wed.

You were his everything, and he'd be damned if he didn't get to have you by his side. Your plump figure was one of fascination to him. He had grown up rather thin, now tall and lean, so the contrast between the textures of your bodies was something he rather enjoyed.

When he had you sprawled beneath him, his digits buried in your pussy, he couldn't help but use his free hand to gently squeeze and pinch the fat on your stomach and hips. Your soft flesh was heavenly to him, you were his plump little angel, his cherub.

"My darling..." he purred, his eyes narrowed in delight as he gazed down at your flustered face. The way you panted and squirmed every second his fingers were buried in your wet cunt made his pants tight.

"Lumi... Luml please..." you whined, your chubby cheeks puffing out in a pout. He smiled, finding your pouting endearing.

"Please what, my angel?"

Your cheeks heated up further, and you had to bury your face in the crook of his neck so you could speak.

"Please... I want you..."

He was hoping you'd ask for his cock, but he eased up his teasing. You were the cutest thing he'd ever seen, and he'd give his darling wife whatever you wanted.

"Of course... I'm all yours, love."

He stared down in amusement as he pulled the waistband of his pants down, letting his cock settle on your tummy. "You want it? Do you?"

You nodded, not able to take your eyes off of him. "Y-yes... please..."

He traced his fingers along your plump hips, gently holding onto them as the top of his cock rubbed agaisnt your sensitive bud. You mewled, your nails lightly digging into his back as he guided his cock to your right hole, pushing in until he bottomed out.

Illumi didn't talk much during sex, usually fucking into you like an animal due to his inexperience, but this time he put his hand over your chubby tummy as he thrusted gently.

"My sweet wife... it's about time you give me a child..."

He groaned at the thought of your belly swelling with his child, it was enough to have him pound into you.

"L-Lumi!"

He took one of your nipples into his mouth, nibbling softly on the perky bud and he filled you to the brim with his cum, only to fuck it out of you and start all over again.

Within the next few months, your belly was swollen, and your in-laws were quite happy to know Illumi would soon have an heir.

He didn’t stop then though. He made you to keep you nice and full of his cum constantly. Illumi was a possessive creature, and to know you were stuffed full of his seed at all times soothed his soul.

You sat on his lap, his cock buried in you as you yawned softly. Having him inside you was quite comforting, it was the closest you two could get, the ultimate union of your bodies.

“Lumi… what are you hoping for? A boy or a girl?”

He kept his hand over your swollen belly, rubbing with the skilled hands of an assassin. “… preferably a boy, to carry on my bloodline.”

That was what he had been taught. A boy was preferred, but…

“… you want a girl, don’t you?” you said with a smile, feeling him twitch inside of you.

He didn’t answer, simply resting his chin on your shoulder. “A healthy child with powerful nen.”

You giggled, kissing his cheek. “Mhm… whatever you say, Lumi.”

The excitement of knowing his child was growing inside of you made him grab at your hips, guiding them up and down the length of his cock. “Shh…”

The head of his cock met your spongy g-spot, making you clench around him deliciously. “G-gonna-“

The feeling of your walls closing in on his cock when you came had him spilling into your cunt, his teeth lightly biting down on your neck.

Even after giving you yet another creampie, he still kept you sitting pretty on his cock, letting you rest in his arms.

He felt love for you so grand it nearly debilitated him. You were his everything, and soon, your child would be too.

Illumi placed a kiss on your temple as you dozed off, his cock being kept nice and warm, nestled in your cunt.

1K notes · View notes

girlyhornywriter · 2 months ago

Text

Get Milked [1/2]

[Contains Weight Gain, Hucow]

Bethany tried her best to control her breathing and calm herself down as she took stock of her situation: restraints wrapped around her wrists and ankles ensured she didn't move an inch from the strange dentist chair-like piece of furniture she was sitting in; her street clothes had been stripped from her at some point, replaced with a loose grey t-shirt and matching shorts that fortunately allowed her to maintain her modesty; there was a closed doorway to her left, and a set of double-doors to her right through which she could feel a gentle breeze blowing through; she had been feeling somewhat dazed since she woke up, but that feeling was finally fading away, implying that whatever drugs they had hit her with were wearing off.

She had no idea where she was being held, but she had an upsetting level of certainty about who had brought her here. She'd heard all the rumours about the "Happy Cow Dairy" through the web. Nominally, they were just one of the many industrial dairy mega-farms active in the US, providing milk and cream to the public at reasonable prices. If you believed some of the less charitable opinions about them, they were also huge political donors, able to sway regulations and laws to suit their business interests despite the risks to health and safety.

And if you believed some of the really out-there conspiracies...

Bethany wasn't usually one to believe the sort of nonsensical rambling that gets shared by the paranoid and the delusional on social media, but some of the stories about the Happy Cow Dairy were just plausible enough to make her finish reading any post about them that she saw. Mentions of their links to government bio-tech firms, collusion with intelligence agencies, even some gene-editing companies absorbed under their corporate umbrella. This was all just the icing on the cake though - the real story was the number of abductions that had been blamed on them over the past couple of years. It all would have sounded like the usual crank nonsense, except for one shred of proof that had made its way onto the internet. She would never forget what she saw when she finally got her hands on a link to that video...

Back when she had first moved out to the small, rural town in which she currently lived, Bethany had befriended a waitress called Danielle, who worked at the cafe next to her apartment. They were both out-of-towners who didn't really have any close family, so they naturally gravitated towards each other; Danielle would spend half of her shift loitering at Bethany's table, keeping her coffee topped up and letting her vent about what a rough week she'd had. They chatted about everything, from Bethany's insatiable love of all things sweet to Danielle's story about the wicked scar on her eyebrow she'd acquired in a freak rollerblading accident. Her manager didn't seem to appreciate it, but she wasn't technically breaking any rules, so there wasn't much he could do beyond glare at the two of them. But a couple of months ago, Danielle seemed to... Vanish. She was never on shift, the other staff hadn't heard from her, and her manager just shrugged his shoulders when Bethany asked about where she'd gone. She got a bad enough feeling about the whole thing to contact the police about it. They got back to her a couple of weeks later - They'd managed to get in touch with her and confirm she was safe, but beyond that, they couldn't give Bethany any details.

She would have relegated the whole ordeal to Danielle just being weirdly skittish... If not for the contents of the video. It supposedly showed one of Happy Cow Dairy's "top-secret" R&D labs, where they develop new hormone formulas for maximising the milk production of their cows.

Except these weren't cows. These were women.

You could be mistaken for thinking they were cows at first glance. Their size and proportions were definitely far from normal. Lined up on either side of a central walkway, dozens of immensely fat women crouched on their hands and knees, all communally eating from two long metal troughs running parallel to each other for as far as the camera showed. Each face looked dazed as it munched on whatever slop was being served, spilling the stuff all over their triple-chins and onto their massive mammaries. Every now and then, a low, guttural moo would escape from one of the captive women, echoing through the vast hall long after the offending cattle had dipped her head back down into the slop.

The smallest of the "cows" had to be at least 700lbs, and the biggest were too big to even fit fully into frame as the camera passed over them each in turn. Their bellies all scraped along the faux-grass floor as they dragged their immense bulks from one section of the trough to another, seeking out more mouthfuls of the apparently delicious slop. Their breasts looked so big and so heavy, sagging low and also touching the ground as they endlessly leaked thin streams of creamy milk; whatever hormone cocktail those scientists had pumped into these poor girls, it was clearly having its intended effect. Some girls had their enormous breasts hooked up to pumping stations in the far corners of the hall - They panted, moaned and mooed in ecstasy as their overfilled teats were emptied, the milk siphoned off to God-knows-where. Men and women in lab coats wandered casually from cow to cow, making notes into the tablets they were carrying or pointing things out to their lab partners. Compared to the hulking, barely-mobile forms of the cattle-women, these researchers almost looked malnourished.

The video went on for less than a minute, but every frame seemed to last an eternity when Bethany first watched it. It was horrifying... But it was still, at the end of the day, just a video on the internet. It wasn't proof of anything. Sure, Happy Cow Dairy might have a secret lab filled with women who had been halfway transformed into dairy cows. But it was just as likely that somebody with a lot of skill in digital effects had created the whole thing as a hoax, maybe as part of some vendetta against the Dairy for firing them or building a farm over their land. As Bethany had approached the end of the video, she had all but convinced herself that that was the explanation. Just a disgruntled ex-employee, getting back at their old bosses with this wild conspiracy.

She just wished she had closed the video at that point. She could have moved on with her life and laughed at what a gullible fool she had been for digging so deep into all of this nonsense. But she hadn't. She had watched it through to the end. And as the camera panned over the last couple of faces bowing their heads into the half-empty trough, Bethany's heart had skipped a beat.

It was Danielle.

If not for the colour of her hair and the distinctive scar on her eyebrow, Bethany wouldn't have recognised her old friend. Her face was so much rounder and softer, dominated by chubby cheeks and several chins, with a mop of wild, greasy hair framing her once delicate face. She glanced at the camera as it passed over her, not even bothering to pause from sinking her stained mouth into the slop and swallowing a hefty mouthful. She wore no clothes, except for a grey pair of shorts that barely seemed to cover the colossal mountain of ass that now weighed down her rear end. The tag attached to her ear was just legible for a single frame of the video, and Bethany had managed to decipher it.

"DAISY"

Suddenly, Bethany was stirred from her reminiscing by a gentle buzz from the doorway on her left. With a soft click, the door opened to reveal a tall woman wearing a familiar-looking labcoat, and carrying an equally familiar-looking tablet. She wore safety goggles and a facemask, preventing Bethany from seeing what emotions were playing across her face as she stepped into the room and paused in front of the chair that she was constrained to. Was it pity? Curiosity? Excitement? She tried to speak to the scientist, but her words fell on deaf ears - Literally, as the scientist's earplugs prevented her from hearing any more than a gentle hum coming from Bethany's direction. She typed something into the tablet, then walked around to a point behind Bethany that she couldn't see. After some cryptic beeps and buzzing from whatever console was located there, the woman left the room through the same door she had entered by, leaving Bethany alone once again.

Her head sank in defeat as she realised just how bad this was looking. Nobody was going to help her. Whatever these people were going to do to her, she wasn't going to be able to fight it. This was a well-oiled machine, and Bethany's role in it was already decided; anything she could try to do to resist them, they'd probably already thought of and planned for. Her only choice was to hope they made some kind of mistake before they could do her much harm.

As she sat there with her head hanging towards the ground, she noticed something that made her heart sink. The grey outfit she had woken up in...

It was exactly the same shade as the shorts Danielle was wearing in that video.

The console behind her, which had been humming softly since the scientist had left, suddenly came to life, and Bethany could do nothing but watch as a thick rubber tube descended from the ceiling towards her gasping mouth...

#feedee encouragement #feeding kink #gaining weight #fat #feedee girl #fat belly #feedee belly #cow #fat cow #cowgirl #fat hucow #hucow transformation #fatter

258 notes · View notes

99pansy · 6 months ago

Text

ss/mayo blogspot lore + frerard theory

hi I'm about to drop some insane lore that I don't think a lot of mcr fans/frerard theorists know about. this isn't discussed often so I figured I should write about it here before all the evidence is lost to time.

this is probably gonna be a long one so buckle in! i have gathered as much evidence here as possible but there's no way to be certain about anything. i'm trying to maintain as much journalistic integrity as i can throughout this post (also trying super hard not to insert my opinion too much) because i think a lot of this speaks for itself.

so i have a pretty significant frerard theory but i have to give a lot of backstory and documentation for it to fully make sense. this will not be in chronological order (to best suit the narrative) but i hope it makes sense

many people know about frank's F.T. Willz endeavors which have been proven as him in recent years. however, "ss" or "shitsubou shita" was another blog he had before this which is not widely known

around 2007, there was a major theory in the fandom that gerard and frank were running secret blogspot accounts where they'd post journals, poetry, etc. frank's account was iamthemodernprometheus.blogspot.com and gerard's supposed account was its-mayonaise.blogspot.com. both accounts are still up, though i'm not sure if any posts have since been deleted. this probably sounds crazy so i'll explain everything!

evidence for frank as SS/shitsubou-shita/iamthemodernprometheus

i strongly believe this was frank's personal blog, but you can come to your own conclusions based on this info

frank's supposed original blogspot handle was "shitsubou-shita." once fans realized this was his account, he deleted it pretty much immediately. you can read some fan discussion about the fall out from this in a comment thread here. this comment thread will be linked a few times in this post because most of the screenshots on this post originate from there.

apparently *frank* was posting some very personal thoughts/feelings on this blog that he did not want to be discovered. i'll go over some of the deleted posts in a minute, but first i need to give more a little more context.

at the same time the blog is found, someone comments "your fired" on a recent post. apparently some fans thought the comment looked strangely out of place, and it was one of the last comments left before the account's deletion, on one of the final posts made.

this will be relevant later on, and we'll get into the account's posts soon.

my theory is that someone on the "inside" could have found his personal blog and tried spooking him, which could have been the final straw for him. or, the account being deleted could be completely unrelated to the weird comment. all of this can be found here (same link i posted previously)

months after deleting their blog, shitsubou shita begins posting under a new url "iamthemodernprometheus" (but still under the pen name "shitsubou shita" or "ss" as fans called him)

in his new blog, and similarly to F.T. Willz years later, he still leaves plenty of crumbs for fans to figure out it's him. screenshot sources are below

latin heading: his page had a latin heading that when translated, reads "keep the faith"

bio on blogspot: "industry - chemicals", and "you dont stop playing cos you get old…you get old cos you stop playing" both sound suspiciously personal to frank

his url choice: "the modern prometheus" is the full title of mary shelley's frankenstein. frankenstein is a character that frank has always deeply resonated with due to his namesake, love of horror, and being born on halloween

spelling of wierd: SS and frank both spell "weird" as "wierd"

i think he enjoyed the mystery of having a secret online persona, which eventually led to the creation of F.T. Willz in 2008. it seems like wanted to leave just enough evidence for people to suspect it was him, but not enough to prove it.

here are some snippets of 2007 era discourse about the identity of "ss" and their deleted blog. you can find all of these comments and more context here. this was around the time gerard got married and fans felt like the dynamic on stage was different, and they were concerned about the future of the band. it's a LOT to go over so i would advise reading the comments if you want more perspective

on the next page, an anonymous comment is posted which fans immediately begin to speculate is SS (frank). again, if you click the link you can get way more context than i'm able to provide here.

this insinuates that SS frequented the comments on mayo's blog, which i don't think he would have done without believing/knowing mayo is gerard

there was a lot discussed in this thread including pretty solid evidence that frank/ss wrote the ancient and historic "eliza post"

if you are not aware of the eliza cuts drama, that's a totally different and equally as insane rabbit hole you'll have to research on your own

tldr; she is gerard's mentally unstable ex-fiance who he was engaged to very shortly before lindsey

gerard and eliza got engaged on may 22, 2007 (the last show of the black parade tour) according to this reddit comment.

the "eliza post" went up on june 4, 2007. here is the post in its entirety:

"Hi I felt I had to write to you guys to allay some of your fears regarding the rumours and speculation surrounding Gerard and Eliza and the future of the band. This is the only time I will ever post. I will not be able to respond to your comments or enter into discussion or debate on what I'm about to say. We are aware that this is one of the most popular message boards for MCR fans and we know you guys are the most dedicated and loyal fans in the world. It saddens me to see such division amongst the fans over one woman. If it's any consolation, you guys are not the only ones affected. She is merely tolerated by both band and crew. Believe me, nothing anyone can say will change his mind. She's been the cause of numerous conflicts and while we dont have to like it, we have to accept it, at least for the forseeable future. From day one this woman has had a hidden agenda - her manipulation knows no bounds. Some of you may find this difficult to believe but I assure you I have personally witnessed the two sides of this woman. Her so-called 'good deeds' are nothing more than PR exercises for his benefit. But he does not see what goes on behind closed doors. We have tried to draw his attention to her blatant self-promotion and diva demands. This is a prime example of love being blind. His feelings for her do run very deep. Her feelings for him, however, are questionable at best. Many people believe, including myself, that he is being used as nothing more than a stepping stone. It's disheartening to see someone you care about and have worked with for a very long time change as a person, becoming more detached and causing the group dynamic to change as a result. There have been conflicts and differences of opinions and compromises have had to be made She does not accompany the band on the European legs of the tour. Since being on this current European leg, he seems much happier which suggest she doesnt make him as happy as he thinks. Despite being asked more than once to remain discreet, she blatantly disregards his wish to keep his personal life private by continually fuelling the internet hype. The band has always been about the music and the fans. This will not change. MCR have never endorsed any type of clique as it encourages and promotes the kind of high school mentality that MCR have always fought against. Your continued support is appreciated and rest assured this woman will have no adverse affect on the band and the music. For obvious reasons I am remaining anonymous. Eliza, we know you trawl these message boards and you probably know who I am - but I'd like to see you try and prove it!!!"

it's clear that whoever wrote this had a very strong distaste for eliza and was deeply troubled by the idea of gerard marrying her. based on the language used and style of writing, i strongly believe frank wrote this post. i'll be circling back to this in a minute, because i have a little more to go over.

for more evidence that SS is frank, we can reference this reddit comment made just 9 months ago by someone heavily involved in the blogspot community at the time, kapunua. their username on this post is "ReallyKapu."

if you read through the comment links I provided earlier, you may see their name pop up. they are also mentioned by name on the "iamthemodernprometheus" blog. if you also search "kapunua mcr" on google, you can verify their involvement in the blogspot community at the time.

kapunua is also mentioned in its-mayonaise's post here (no screenshot provided for this one, its just a small mention)

there's also a screenshot of a different comment kapunua made about 9 years ago with similar information. i found the screenshot here.

evidence that "mayo" is gerard

as mentioned in the post above, mayo often used british english syntax in his posts. he also posted about some pretty juicy stuff including a blowjob poem (you can seek that out yourself)

using british english isn't out of the ordinary for gerard. he often used an accent on stage during this time. moreover, he is a writer who has written multiple characters with this type of accent, showing he has a certain appeciation for it. i think his persona for the "mayo" account could been a sort of character he put on to disguise his idenity.

if you decide to view mayo's blog, you'll see each post has nothing but comments from mcr fans exclusively. i find it very interesting that the writer of its-mayonaise never bothered to make a post saying "hey, btw, i'm not gerard" in the 4 years this blog was run for

we have somewhat less definitive evidence that gerard is mayo. however, it is clear that at the very least, they had to have been someone involved with MCR or their crew at the time.

mayo makes a post alluding to their identity here, which you can find in the first screenshot below. this section sounds a lot like something gerard would write:

"I have been asked to reveal myself to you. You all know me. I am whoever you want me to be, I am an artist, a poet, a singer, a motherfucker, and a contradiction, a mouthpiece, a friend, and an enemy, a brother, an informant, a whipping boy, a basket case, a queen, and a criminal...(credit to John Hughes.)"

there are THOUSANDS of comments, many of which speculate the identity of mayo on each of his blogspot posts. you should definitely do your own detective work and see what you think, because there is far too much info to go through here.

a frerard theory

as i previously mentioned, frank had deleted his original blog for shitsubou-shita in late september. however, prior to this, he made and then deleted some particularly turbulent and questionable posts

for context, the frerard fight happened on august 22, 2007, and gerard and lindsey got married on september 3, 2007 (just four months after gerard was engaged to eliza)

gerard and lindsey are married on the last night of the projekt revolution tour.

mcr takes a break for one month after this, where we can probably safely assume that freshly-married gerard and frank did not plan on seeing one another.

i think this was very troubling for frank for many different reasons. gerard had just freed himself of the eliza situation and here he was making the same mistake again. he was on the verge of losing his dearest friend yet again, and i believe that despite his best efforts, he could not get through to gerard.

obviously, gerard and lindsey are still married to this day. however, many fans might be aware of what happened between her and mikey. there's also a lot of other questionable information about lindsey circling the web, but that's a different story for another time.

weeks later, similarly to the eliza situation, shitsubou-shita makes and deletes the following posts on his original blog (this was prior to the creation of iamthemodernprometheus):

Friday, September 21, 2007 Abandon hope, all who enter here... What the fuck happened? Why didn't I see this coming? I made a point to keep out of it this time, but at what cost? I'm trapped between a rock and a hard place, it's a lose/lose situation. I've always been honest with you, shouldn't that work both ways? What's with the double standards? People are starting to notice. I'm not talking about kids, I'm talking about people in their mid 20's and 30's. People with life experience who can see the cracks starting to show. What am I supposed to say? I just dont have the answers. How can I reassure them when I need reassurance myself?

he says "i made a point to keep out of it this time" which seems like a reference to the situation with eliza i mentioned previously. he alludes to the idea that fans are beginning to notice the band's dynamic is not the same anymore. this was specifically around the time when "frerard" moments came to a pretty abrupt end.

he says "i've always been honest with you, shouldn't that work both ways?" which can be interpreted in a few different ways. he may feel deceived due to his best friend's sudden marriage. however, the intensity of the language used in this post shows he probably had some very intense feelings toward the situation.

it seems like the writer was having a considerably difficult time coping with these feelings. a day later, this post is made:

Saturday, September 22, 2007 Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. Bullshit. I've always been a smart ass, even as a child, although my mom would prefer to use the term precocious. I've always had trouble keeping my mouth shut, I'm an open book, completely ingenuous - secrecy and circumvention are not my style. But then I've never experienced extreme paranoia. So I'm writing this blog. I know you will never read it, I wouldn't want you to. Not everything is about you. This blog is for ME, a perverse catharsis, I need this right now to preserve the small amount of sanity I have left. A blog fuelled by disappointment, frustration, confusion and dejection. I am not laying the blame at your door. The burden of blame is mine. I didn't speak up soon enough. I didn't want to rock the boat, I've been there before. I didn't want to fight or endure days of being given the silent treatment. Its not fair on the others. Why do you always make everyone feel like they have to take sides? If I had been a better friend, I would have stepped in regardless of the consequences. I acted selfishly because I didn't want to lose you, but ironically, I may have lost you anyway. I meant every word I said at the diner and although I didnt show it, your smirk and glib response hurt me more than you will ever know. I don't know who you are anymore. I cant seem to find the right words. Nothing I say seems to reach you. You are wrong. I DO care. I love you. I refuse to give up on you and I refuse to let you push me away. I am going to fight for our friendship, you aren't the only one with a stubborn streak. We are in this together, for the long haul, I promise. I want my friend back. I miss him.

it seems like whatever the writer is feeling toward the subject of this post goes beyond the boundaries of a typical friendship. the final paragraph says everything we need to know.

we can assume that based on this post's mention of meeting a diner, that frank and gerard likely met up during their month-long break to talk about the way things went down

lastly, i know there's at least one interview floating or blog post around where frank says he was a difficult teen and a pain in the ass as a kid, but i can't find it right now. if anyone has the link to that i would love to add it here, because i remember it sounding pretty similar to that first paragraph.

Sunday, September 23, 2007 Is the pen really mightier than the sword? And so you continue to blog, as do I. The difference is, I am not hurting anyone. I'm just trying to gain some perspective while you are publicly making a fool of yourself. Your words are hungrily devoured and dissected by the masses, you seem to revel in the chaos and controversy. At the moment your identity is pure speculation, but have you thought about the consequences if anyone was able to prove your identity? Not just for you, but for all of us? Have you lost your mind? How can you be so selfish? You have become a self obsessed megalomaniac. I know what I get out of writing my blogs - but what do you get out of writing yours? Do you even bother to read the comments? Some of those comments break my heart. These aren't just nameless, faceless strangers, these are real people with real lives and real feelings. These are the people that allowed us to bring our music into their lives. These are the people that we see on tour, the people that wait outside for hours in the cold and rain just to meet us, the people that write us letters and make us scrapbooks, the people who care enough to bake us cookies and brownies, the people that send us birthday cards and bizarre, crazy ass gifts, the people that have given us their love and support, the people that cheer us on, the people that made us. Why are you so hellbent on destroying not only yourself, but everyone who loves you? You wanna see how far down I can sink? Your mom called last night - and I lied to her. After everything she has done for us, I lied to her. How do you think that made me feel? Do you even care?

this last post, for me, solidifies the identities behind each blog. it is so clear through the details in this post. to me, it seems like frank was hurting so bad, and in such a vulnerable place, that he completely let his guard down and made this post.

the mcr lyric included "You wanna see how far down I can sink?" is undoubtedly mind-boggling and speaks volumes to how carelessly obvious frank was (maybe intentionally?) willing to be

there's so much to unpack in this post and i honestly can't even begin to wrap my head around it. i would love to hear anyone's opinion!

later in the post, it seems clear that he is referencing the iam-mayonaise blog and gerard's seemingly wreckless posting. but mostly, i think he was lashing out due to pain of betrayal after losing the closest person to him and someone he deeply loves not once, but twice.

again, it's hard to believe how obvious he was being here, but i really think it was a result of the pain/suffering he felt

if you scroll back up to the first screenshot of this post, you can circle back around to when he removed his entire profile after making this final post, eventually rebranding to "iamthemodernprometheus"

the its-mayonaise account makes this post on september 30, seemingly as a response. the title could apply to frank, who as we all know, was gerard's best friend and right-hand man. the rest of this post can be interpreted in many different ways, so you can make whatever you want out of it:

however, the last paragraph does give me pause... i would love to see/create a full analysis of this post, but i'm trying to stick to facts here so you can form your own judgement

after gerard's wedding and mcr's month long break, they play two shows in mexico (oct 4 & 7, 2007) and then the hoboken show takes place, where frank yells "lie to me" during i'm not okay and seems very low energy and unlike himself

i believe things gradually improved between them after this point, but i'm not sure if their connection was ever completely the same.

conclusion/my opinion

coupled with all of the other available evidence about gerard/frank's tumultuous friendship/relationship/situationship, i think this information strongly alludes to the idea that at the very least, frank had some very intense feelings for gerard that were not fully reciprocated. i would love to hear what anyone else's opinion is on this topic, because it definitely isn't discussed often

i think it's completely heartbreaking (especially with everything else we know) but i do think their incredible connection is a massive contributing factor to mcr's legacy

if you notice any inconsistencies in this post or have any questions, please send me a message! i want to keep this as consistent, comprehensible, and well-sourced as i can!

lastly please follow me if you liked this! i spent months researching and compiling sources for this post and i would so appreciate it <3

#frerard #my chemical romance #mcr #gerard way #frank iero #frerard theory #ss/mayo #ss mayo #shitsubou-shita #its-mayonaise #mcr history

336 notes · View notes