#i know no one cares about this shit but me

[lexiputellas]

Room 1102 — Broken Vows

mdni

The hotel is too perfect. A five-star lie wrapped in gold and glass, designed to make you forget reality. The air smells like lilies—expensive, artificial, like they pump it through the vents to convince you this place is special.

But nothing about tonight is special.

Your heels click sharply against the marble, a rhythmic, deliberate sound as you walk toward the front desk. Your coat, long and black, clings to you, hiding the outfit beneath—a striped button-down blouse, tucked neatly into fitted jeans. The fabric is smooth, crisp, the kind that wrinkles if you grip it too tight.

"Room 1102." Your voice is flat.

The receptionist types something into the computer, then nods. "She’s expecting you."

You nod once. Nothing else is necessary.

Good.

You don’t need anyone to pretend they care.

You move toward the elevators, your pulse a slow, steady drum in your ears. The mirrored doors slide open, and you step inside, pressing 11 with the tip of your finger. The doors close with a soft hush, sealing you in.

Silence.

The space is sleek, modern—mirrored walls, brushed steel, the faintest scent of expensive cologne lingering in the air, probably from the last person who stood here. You stare at your reflection. Your posture is stiff, your expression blank, but beneath the surface—beneath the careful armor—you are unraveling.

The floor numbers blink past one by one, a slow ascent, a quiet climb toward something you shouldn’t be walking into.

By the time the doors open, your breath feels too tight in your chest.

You walk down the hallway, plush carpet soft beneath your steps, the muted glow of wall sconces casting elongated shadows along the corridor. The walls are a deep, muted gray, textured, cool under your fingertips when you let your hand trail against them.

1102.

You stop in front of it.

Exhale.

Knock.

Alexia opens the door too fast. Like she’s been waiting.

She looks like shit.

Messy hair, tired eyes, wearing your t-shirt—one she stole years ago and never gave back.

She still wears your things.

Like she still belongs to you.

But she doesn’t.

You stare at each other.

"You gonna let me in?" Your voice is cold.

She swallows. "Yeah."

You step inside, and the door clicks shut behind you.

The suite is a disaster. Clothes everywhere—some crumpled on the floor, some half-folded, some tossed carelessly over furniture like she was in too much of a hurry to care. A half-empty glass of water rests on the nightstand, the condensation long since dried.

The room itself is pristine beneath the mess—polished floors, soft cream-colored walls, the kind of expensive minimalism that belongs in places like this. A sleek, modern lamp casts a dim glow over the king-sized bed, its crisp white sheets slightly rumpled. The floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across the far wall, the heavy curtains drawn back just enough to reveal the city skyline, glittering and vast against the night.

You don’t sit. Neither does she.

"You wanted to talk," you say. "So talk."

She exhales. "I don’t know where to start."

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Try starting with the part where you decided to fuck someone else."

She flinches.

"Come on, Alexia," you press. "Be honest. Was it fun? Did she make you feel special? Did it make you feel young again? Or was it just exciting to sneak around behind my back?"

Her throat works. "It wasn’t like that."

You tilt your head. "Then tell me—what was it like?"

Silence.

"Who is she?"

Alexia freezes.

You smile—sharp, cruel. "Oh, you don’t want to say? That’s funny, because you had no problem fucking her."

She swallows. "Her name is Eva."

Something twists in your stomach.

You blink. "I know that. And what does Eva do?"

Alexia exhales. "She’s… on the medical team."

You laugh. A sharp, bitter sound. "So she sees you every day?"

Alexia shifts. "Yes. Not like that anymore—"

"Oh, so that makes it better?" Your voice is razor-sharp. "So tell me, Alexia—where? Where did you do it?"

She blinks. "What?"

You take a step forward. "Where. Did. You. Fuck. Her?"

Alexia closes her eyes. "Hotel rooms. Sometimes… her apartment."

You nod slowly. "And when? When did it start?"

Her voice is small. "Nine months ago."

You laugh. "Nine months. A whole pregnancy."

Her face crumbles.

"How did it happen?" you push. "Did she just look at you one day, and suddenly your wedding vows stopped mattering? Or was it slower?"

Alexia swallows hard. "We were talking. We got too comfortable."

"Too comfortable?" Your voice is sharp. "What does that mean? Did she touch you first, or did you touch her?"

Alexia hesitates.

You step forward.

"Did you kiss her first? Or did she kiss you?"

Alexia’s voice is barely there. "I kissed her."

You let out a slow breath.

"You kissed her," you repeat.

She nods.

You smile—sharp and vicious. "And then? What? You just couldn’t stop yourself?"

Alexia shakes her head. "I wasn’t thinking—"

"Clearly."

She flinches.

You press a hand to your forehead, exhaling hard.

Then, finally:

"I want her fired."

Alexia’s head snaps up. "What?"

"You heard me." Your voice is cold. "I want Eva gone."

Alexia hesitates.

And that hesitation?

Pisses you off.

"You shouldn’t even have to think about this," you say, voice ice-cold. "You should want her gone. You should want to erase every fucking trace of her."

Alexia swallows hard. "I’ll talk to them."

"You’ll do more than talk."

She exhales sharply. "I’ll handle it."

You nod. "Good."

You take a slow breath, steadying yourself. "I'm going to ask you something, and you have to promise me. No lies. No excuses."

Alexia nods, hesitant, like she already knows what's coming.

"Do you love her?"

Her answer is immediate. "No."

"Do you want to be with her?"

She shakes her head. "No."

You search her face, looking for any hesitation, any flicker of doubt. But there’s none.

Still, you need to ask.

"At any point… did you ever think—maybe if I didn’t have a wife or kids, I’d be happy with her?"

Alexia flinches, her lips parting, but no words come out at first. Her breath wobbles. She looks away.

"Not with her," she says, voice barely above a whisper. "Never with her."

Your stomach clenches. "But?"

She swallows. "But there were moments where I felt… stuck. Not because of you. Not because of them. Just—because of me."

She exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over her face. "And I hated that. I hated myself for even thinking it."

"Was it just her? Eva? Or was there more?"

Alexia hesitates, just for a second. "Just Eva."

"That should make me feel better." You shake your head. "But it doesn’t."

Her brows furrow. "Why—"

"Because if it had been more than one person, it would’ve meant nothing," you cut in. "But just her? That means you wanted something in her. Something you won’t even admit to me. Or to yourself."

You step back.

Your breath shakes. "We’re done."

Alexia freezes.

"I can’t be with you." Your voice is steady, even as your chest caves in. "I need space. I need time. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you."

Alexia shakes her head, quickly, desperately. "No. You don’t mean that."

"I do. But the girls need stability. I’ll stay at the house. If you want to stay instead, let me know, and we’ll go." Your voice is firm. "Either way, we’re not together. We’ll figure out how to co-parent later."

Alexia looks wrecked.

You turn to leave.

She grabs you.

Her fingers wrap around your wrist, firm, desperate, like she can’t let you go.

Like she won’t.

She pulls you back, closing the space between you in one slow, deliberate step.

You should pull away. You should leave.

But you don’t.

She tilts her chin down, eyes locked on yours, dark and desperate. "I love you."

It sounds broken.

Like it’s not enough.

Her forehead touches yours. Her breath mixes with yours.

You don’t move.

You don’t breathe.

Her hands tremble where they rest on your waist, fingers pressing into your coat, holding you like she’s afraid you’ll disappear.

And you hate her. You hate her for what she did.

For throwing you away.

For making you feel like this—like you still love her, like you still need her, like your body still remembers her even when you don’t want it to.

You kiss her.

Hard.

Her gasp melts into a moan as she kisses you back, hands desperate, frantic, pulling at your clothes like she can’t get you bare fast enough.

You shove her shirt—your shirt—up and over her head.

It’s barely off before she’s reaching for your coat, your blouse, her fingers shaking as she undoes the buttons, one by one.

She spins you.

The backs of your knees hit the bed, and you sink down, breathless.

Alexia follows, kneeling between your legs.

You start on your blouse, slow, deliberate, making her watch.

Her lips brush your jaw, your throat, your collarbone.

Her breath is hot, unsteady.

She doesn’t stop kissing you.

She doesn’t stop touching you.

Her hands skim your ribs, your stomach, mapping every inch like she’s trying to memorize you.

Your blouse falls open.

She pulls it off your shoulders, soft, reverent, like she’s undressing something holy.

She stares.

At you.

At the body she knows so well.

The body she gave up.

Her hands slide up your sides, over your ribs, your stomach, tracing every curve like she’s trying to remember what it feels like to have you.

She leans in, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down your chest, your stomach, her breath shaky against your skin.

By the time she reaches the edge of your thighs, you’re already trembling, already too far gone.

And then—

Her mouth is on you.

Wet, relentless.

Her tongue presses, curls, flicks in a way that sends electric shocks down your spine.

Your body reacts before you can think, back arching, thighs trembling as you gasp and fist your hands into her hair, holding her there like you need this to survive.

She groans against you, the vibration shooting through your core, making your stomach tighten.

Your breath stutters, eyes squeezing shut as she spreads you open with her hands, holding you in place as she devours you.

Her tongue dips inside, then moves up again, circling, teasing, never stopping, never giving you room to breathe.

"Fuck," you gasp, your fingers digging into her scalp.

She hums in response, flicking her tongue faster, drinking in every moan, every shake, every broken sound she pulls from you.

Her hands grip your thighs harder, thumbs pressing into your skin like she wants to leave bruises, like she wants you to feel her even after this is over.

You feel the build, the sharp pull of pleasure rising higher and higher, winding tight inside you.

Alexia knows—she always knows.

She shifts slightly, the new angle sending fire through your veins, and then you’re gone, the orgasm ripping through you so hard you forget how to breathe.

Your body jerks against her mouth, thighs shaking as you cry out, your grip on her tightening.

She doesn’t stop.

Her tongue keeps moving, slow, lazy, dragging out every last tremor, making you whimper as the pleasure turns almost unbearable.

Only when your body sags against the sheets, chest rising and falling in desperate pants, does she finally pull away.

She kisses her way back up your body, slow, reverent, her lips brushing over your stomach, your ribs, your chest.

When she reaches your mouth, she kisses you deep, letting you taste yourself on her tongue.

She pulls back just enough to whisper, "Can I use it?"

Her voice is wrecked, low and husky, her eyes dark with something that makes your stomach tighten all over again.

You should say no.

You should stop this before you lose yourself completely.

But you don’t.

You nod, desperate.

Alexia reaches for it, in the suitcase—the one you threw all of her things into, every single one of them.

She pulls out the strap, the harness fitting snug around her hips, adjusting it with practiced ease.

Your stomach clenches at the way her muscles flex, at how confident she looks, at how much you still want her.

She slides her fingers between your thighs again, groaning when she feels how wet you still are.

"Fuck," she mutters, almost to herself.

She drags her fingers through your slickness, spreading it, coating the toy in it, preparing.

Your breath catches, your body already reacting to the thought of her inside you.

She kisses your chest, your stomach, biting gently, teasing.

You reach for her, trying to pull her closer, but she catches your wrists, pinning them down above your head.

Her grip is firm, commanding.

"You were always so impatient," she murmurs, lips brushing against your skin.

You whimper, shifting, trying to move your hips against hers, needing her to do something, anything.

She takes your own hand, guiding it between your legs, pressing your fingers against yourself.

"Feel that," she whispers.

Your breath stutters, your fingers trembling as you follow her lead.

She watches, her breathing turning ragged.

Then she takes your fingers into her mouth, her tongue moving slow and deliberate as she sucks them clean.

She groans, eyes locked onto yours, and then—

She pushes inside.

A sharp gasp tears from your throat as she fills you, stretching you, the pressure overwhelming in the best way.

Your hands fly to her shoulders, fingers digging in, holding on as she starts to move.

She sets the pace slow at first, so slow it makes you whimper, makes your body beg for more.

"God, you feel so good," she groans, voice breaking.

Her forehead presses against yours, her breath hot against your lips.

"I love you. I love you so much."

You feel the tear slip down your cheek.

You turn your head so she can’t see, but she does.

She kisses them away, soft, apologetic.

Her hands grip you tighter, like you’re the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

And maybe you are.

Because you feel it too.

This is the end of something that was once beautiful.

Until it wasn’t.

You don’t want to be here anymore.

You are devastated in a way you can’t put into words.

It hurts. Deep, bone-crushing, breath-stealing pain.

Your nails dig into her back, desperate, needing to feel grounded, needing something real to hold on to.

You can’t believe she did this to you.

That she did this to you both.

[sierrale8ne]

something about you / juju watkins x fem!reader PART OF THE $$$4U COLLECTION ‘ i’m tryna do something explicit. you askin me what i like about you, girl how long you wanna sit in this kitchen? ’

summary a few substances and some conversation has juju realizing that no time apart is gonna stop her from wanting you. warnings sexual content, smoking, fingering from lena “in the morning” yeah yeah i’m a liar we already knew that next 🙄🙄 here’s the first post of my lil collection and my first juju fic because y’all alr know… that’s my lil shit.

The chime of the bell is what causes your attention to shift from your spot behind the counter. You’ve been working at the smoothie bar on campus for quite some time now, any chance to get more money in your pocket and your roommates off your back.

It was a slow day today, luckily for you, the wind of southern California kept majority of your peers bundled up and in their own dorms rather than the commons or in the store.

Until now.

You’re cleaning the counter top, paying attention to every crumb that lands on the floor that you’ll have to sweep— when you see her.

It was hard not to recognize her, the typical baggy jeans and graphic hoodie, her Nike dunks thudding across the floor as she walks in, and a slicked back bun, different than her everyday game bun. Anyone on campus would be able to see her and point her out, the Juju Watkins.

But you recognize her for other reasons, as the only person in the world who knew you like no one else did.

You haven’t seen Juju in a few weeks, all thanks to her efforts in bringing home a national championship. But still, even through all that, she never once made you feel left to the side. You were involved in every moment of her life— texts, calls, FaceTimes— Juju made an effort to show you that she really did like you. That she cared.

She walks towards the counter, one hand gripping her wallet and the other tucked into her pocket.

“What’s up, baby?” She smiles, and it makes you smile at how her eyes scrunch together. Juju’s perfume travels over the expanse of the counter and to your nose, smelling just as good as you remember she did.

“What are you doing here, Ju?” You ask. It takes everything in your body to hide the blush growing on your face. By second nature, you start ringing her up for her smoothie— mango and peach with extra vanilla protein.

She shrugs, digging in her wallet for her card. “We ain’t linked up in a minute. I gotta pay my girl a visit, y’know?”

You nod, watching the way the girl never takes her eyes off you, even as she pays for her smoothie. Her card lazily held in the tips of her fingers. “Your girl?”

“Stop playing.” Juju shakes her head.

“Judea. You just tipped me 20 for a six dollar drink.” You groan. She was never shy to make a show of how much she liked you, even if you made it clear that money wasn’t the way to do that. It seemed to have fallen on deaf ears, though.

The only lights left in the store are the ones low ones over the tables and the white light over the blenders, dim, but just enough for you to see the red haze over her eyes. “Maybe it’ll make you work faster so we can get outta here. I just wanna see you tonight.” Juju explains.

“I’m closing tonight, love.”

“Okay? When you finish?” She questions. You ignore her briefly, enough to turn your back and start on the athlete’s smoothie.

It gave Juju the opportunity to run her eyes over you. You wear black leggings that hug the curve of your ass perfectly. Your uniform shirt is cropped just enough to give her a view of your lower back. The bright lime green of your apron is nearly blinding, but also looks beautiful on your skin. She can’t seem to take her eyes off you.

“I get off in 30!” You yell over the sound of the blender, looking over your shoulder to see that nothing you said has registered in her head. “Ju?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. You said what, mama?” Juju blots her lips together, glossy and slightly rosy. They look plump and a part of you wants to jump over the counter and kiss them until all the breath in your lungs gives out.

Her eyes meet yours, and just by the look in them you know she’s not lying about wanting to see you. It’s something, almost a sparkle, that you haven’t seen in so long. She wants you.

“I get off in 30.” You repeat, handing the girl her drink.

“I’ll wait right here then.”

You cradle Deuce in your arms, the dog being quite happy to see you in Juju’s apartment again. Her hoodie is long gone, tossed somewhere on the couch which leaves her in a cropped shirt that puts her abs on display.

The seat of her kitchen counter gives her only a few inches over you as you both talk. That seemed to be what you guys did often, picking each other’s brains apart for any and everything.

“How’s school goin’?” Juju asks in between puffs of smoke. The joint rests lazily in her fingers, teasing her bottom lip. Her eyes are already low, raking over you like you were candy. And the slope of her lashes was not helping you keep your cool.

That’s how it always seemed to be with Juju, she could do nothing— but also doo too much— and you still be completely enamored with her.

“It’s alright. Stressful, but s’nothin’ I can’t handle.” You nod, darting your eyes to the joint she passes off to you. “And you? Though I doubt you’re even focused with all this basketball shit.”

You take a puff, the drug swirling through your lungs and messing with your head before you breathe it out. The slight haze traveling through the yellow light of the kitchen.

“What? I’m focused. Sometimes.” She hums and you let out a laugh.

For as long as you’ve known the athlete she’d claim that school comes first, and then as the season continues it becomes pushed to the back burner. She had one goal— or really two— win a natty, and get the girl. You.

“Just sometimes?”

“Why else do you think I play worse when I see you? You’re the distraction, mama.” Blushed. You’re blushed fucking red. And Juju can’t help but smirk at it, she finds you adorable.

Deuce fights in your arms, and you make quick work of setting him on the floor. “Can I ask you something?” You question her, passing over the joint back.

“Of course.”

Your tongue tingles at the thought of the words about to come out of your mouth. You and Juju liked each other, that was clear— but what wasn’t was why things were still kept under wraps. Why she never asked you out officially and honestly why you didn’t do the same.

“What do you like about me, Ju? ‘Cause you keep sayin’ you do, but we’re not moving anywhere.” You trail off, feeling a little small under all six feet and two inches of her.

She ashes the joint, crossing her arms over her chest before making her way over to you. The tension is thick, almost too thick to even focus on anything other than the warmth that spreads through your body.

“How long do you wanna sit here, baby? I could talk about you for hours. It’s just… something about you, got me hooked from the minute I met you.” She explains. You look at how she plays with her fingers, almost like she was nervous. But you know her, Juju doesn’t get nervous. Especially with you.

“I-I dunno, I just feel like—”

“You don’t think I want you?” She wonders. Juju trails closer, hands pressing to the counter on each side of your thighs. “‘Cause I do. I could show you?”

Don’t do it don’t do it don’t do it. The words repeat in your head over and over again. But she’s standing here, smelling like lavender and something else that’s distinctly Juju Watkins. Her eyes are serious, telling you that everything she’s said isn’t a lie. And then you’re thinking about how long it’s been since you’ve even kissed her, weeks, maybe even a full month.

You remember it like it was tattooed in your brain. Just before Valentine’s day. She came to your job with flowers, much to the dismay of your coworkers. You two drove around for hours, Brent Faiyaz and Frank Ocean filling the car until you stopped at the beach. She kissed you with a purpose, so much so that the air left your lungs and all other thoughts left your brain.

You miss it.

“Show me, Ju.” You murmur, widening the gap between your legs for her to stand there.

Juju doesn’t even waste time. She grips your thigh with one hand, snaking her other into the crook of your neck and pulls you in. Your eyes flutter shut and her lips meet yours. Soft and even sweeter than you remembered.

Her lips glide against your own— slow— like she was savoring the moment. And she was, the tournament was approaching and it wasn’t clear the next time she’d be able to have you like this.

She breaks the kiss and you groan in disapproval, chasing after those plump lips before you can even think not to.

“That’s good enough? Or—”

“More.” You sigh, tugging her back to you by her jeans. “I want you, and I want more.” Juju presses her knee closer to your cunt as the kiss grows hungrier. Her mouth opens further, tongue darting out to slide against your own tongue. Like she was begging for more, begging for entry with a small whine. It’s the kind of kiss that makes you dizzy with need.

Juju digs her hands into the band of your leggings, snapping the elastic onto your hip. “Can I?” She mumbles against you.

It’s your turn to break the kiss, licking the saliva string between you both. Her eyes stare into your soul, deep and full of longing. She’s yearning for you, you see it how she grips your clothes, how her legs just slightly buckle.

“Yes. Please.” You whine, spreading your legs further.

The athlete leans into your neck, sniffing the fruity scent that lingers on you from work. Her lips find your sweet spot as she kisses along your skin. “Smell so good, baby. Taste even better.” She smiles against you.

“Ju, I need—” Your plea is cut off by the feel of her fingers inside your pants. She trails them down to your clothed cunt. Copping a feel of your clit through your panties.

“I know. You’re soaked. Just need me so fucking bad, yeah?” Her voice rings in your ear while her middle finger applied the kind of pressure that made your legs shake. You gush almost instantly, more of your slick drenching the fabric.

You nod fast—anything to get her to speed up—but you mean it. “Need you so bad, pretty girl.” Your hand holds the back of her neck, fingers toying with the flyaways of hair that reside there. “Please?”

“I don’t know, baby. I wanna make you my girl first.” She teases. Her fingers don’t stop, still running up and down your covered slit.

“Ask me.” You pant. Your hips buck up in need, free hand clutching the hem of her shirt.

Juju’s face comes back to view, looking down at you with a smirk she can’t hide, not in the slightest. “Y’sure? Here? Like thi—”

“Fucking ask me, Ju.” You stutter, and she doesn’t miss it.

She can’t miss it. How your mouth hangs open and your pants huff into her ears. You’re dying for it, for more. For anything she can give you.

“Will you be my girlfriend, beautiful? Please?” She smiled. Her fingers hook into your panties, tugging them to the side. Enough for the air to make you shiver, but not enough for her to touch you fully. She was leaving you on edge.

“You make your girlfriend feel good?” “You joke.

“Y’know I will, mama.”

“Then yes. Yes, baby, I’ll be your girlfriend.” Juju’s fingertips brush over your clit. Once, twice— and then the third time, she’s slipping her middle finger inside your pussy. Biting her lip as she does so.

“Take your shirt off.” She orders. Her voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it, at least when she was with you. So you listen. Dragging your hands off her body and to your work shirt. It hits the floor with a thud that is ultimately drowned out by the sound of your moan.

She’s good. Better than you even imagined. Her finger is long, brushing along your g-spot with nearly every stroke. And when she curls them, God, it makes your eyes water.

“You feel so good.” You whimper, gripping the edge of the counter like your life depends on it. Juju relishes in the sounds you give her, not even the moans but your cunt. It’s loud, ringing in her ears as she slips another finger inside.

“Yeah? Who’s makin’ you feel this good, mama.” She asks, holding her bottom lip between her teeth.

Your head falls back, eyes rolling as she speeds up. “Y-you. You, baby. Only you, Ju.” You babble.

“Remember when you used to say you ain’t want me?” She starts, twisting her fingers in and out until your panties are all sloppy and you’re soaking your leggings. “Look at you now, legs shaking. Pussy just screamin’ for me.”

“Juju! Oh, fuck.” You grunt, meeting her halfway with each push of her fingers. Her hand trails up to your chest, squeezing your breast with a haste that makes you want to give her any and everything that she pleases. “I can’t—”

“Can’t take it? Really? ‘Cause I know you’re not a quitter. Ain’t nothing you can’t handle, right?” She hums, pressing her plump lips to your cheek.

You can smell the weed off her breath, the mango of her smoothie. And it’s all overstimulating.

Juju curls her fingers, and she knows she’s hit your spot when you nearly fly into her hold, arms wrapped tightly around her neck.

Your breath hits her ear, alongside the pleas of her name. “I’m so close.” You all but cry.

“Imma make you cum?” The question is rhetorical, she knows the answer. The way your body says all the words you don’t. “Yeahhhh, gonna make it feel good for you, baby. I promise.”

“Fuck, don’t stop! Don’t, Ju.” Your moans nearly make the athlete go blind with arousal. Soaking through her own underwear and they thought of having you finish here. On her kitchen counter.

“Lemme feel it. Cum, mama.”

It takes one more push of her fingers to make you nearly fall off the counter. Your legs tremble and your hands clutch Juju’s shoulders like a fucking life line. She works you through it, leaving kisses along your earlobe until she finally drags her coated fingers out of you.

They travel to her mouth, where she makes a show of licking them clean of you. Your eyes make sure they’re fully open to get the view, you’d rather die than miss it.

“Goddamn you taste good.” Juju groans, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Just something about me, I guess.”

🔖 @thaatdigitaldiary @rosemariiaa @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @d3arapril @wbbgetsmewetter @ryywyd @tndaqlwifwy @ykylalex @ohmybueckers @flipthepaige @janaelalfysblunt @cherryswisherz @courtsidewithlani @vamptizm @bdbueckers @makethemhoesmad @omg-imtumbling @avvwritesstufff

[thebubblesareevil]

Mistaken identity

We’ve all seen Danny getting mistaken for a bat. But what about a bat being mistaken for a Fenton.

When Danny took responsibility for Dan the first thing they did was get him a human form that wasn’t his corpse. Between vlad, clockwork, and his parents they managed to get him a new body that had him looking more alive than ever.

He was a bit tanner than expected, but they figured that came from Danny’s ghostly side.

When it came time for Danny to go to Gotham for school, he refused to leave Dan behind. Instead, using the funds he got from the ghost kings treasury and child support from Vlad, Danny got them a studio apartment close to campus.

His parents outfitted the apartment with all the latest security, of course.

Everything was going great, all expect for one thing…

People in amity park accepted Dan and adapted almost immediately, having gotten used to the many quirks of ghosts long ago. Gotham….was a bit less understanding.

Luckily for him, unlucky for the rest of Gotham, the police there were incredibly corrupt and easy to bribe anytime he had to bail Dan out or, in the case of that one Karen that decided to give Dan shit for painting his nails, bail himself out of any trouble they came across.

Danny did his best to spend plenty of time with Dan, even when he was exhausted, he refused to ignore his little brother.

So after going through hell during finals week, Danny decided to take Dan to the zoo. Danny did his best to keep an eye on Dan, he really did! He had only sat down for a moment, just to rest his eyes, next thing he knew though he could hear someone yelling about violent kids.

Danny immediately jumped to his brother’s aid.

“I’m sorry,” Danny started as he interrupted the screeching woman. “Is there a problem here?”

Dan tried to speak up but the woman wouldn’t let him.

“This brat pushed me out of the way while I was looking at the exhibit and then spewed profanities at me!” She howled.

Danny flinched at the offensive noise on his sensitive hearing.

“No offense mam, but somehow I highly doubt that. My brother may not have the best manners, but he sure as hell wouldn’t push someone for no reason.” He couldn’t comment about the language, Dan knew more curse words in more languages that this woman could speak thanks to ghost speech, and he used every one of them.

“You little brat! How dare-“

“Of course, if you feel that strongly about it, we could always ask to see the cameras.” Danny suggested with a smirk. “I for one would LOVE to see what they have to show us.”

The woman paled before turning away in a huff. “I don’t have time to deal with annoying brats like you.” She said before turning away.

Danny’s eye twitched, “Good, because I don’t have time to deal with an entitled bitch like you.” Danny replied, ignoring the woman’s offended screech.

“C’mon Dan, let’s go get a snack and go see the penguins.”

——

Damien was thoroughly confused by what was going on. This was not how he was expecting this day to go.

He had snuck out of the Manor earlier, desperate to get away from his families judging eyes. The night before, he had encountered a smuggling ring, and after seeing the state the animals were in, he didn’t hold back against the traffickers. It was only because of his training with father that they hadn’t died.

His father called it overkill, he called it Justice.

After what he saw the previous night he decided to spend the afternoon at the zoo and bask in the presence of the animals, knowing that they were all well cared for.

And then the annoying shrew decided to ruin his day. He was ready to verbally eviscerate her when a large man stepped in. One that decided to claim him as his brother.

The man grabbed him by the hand after chewing out the woman and walked him over to the penguin exhibit, only stopping to pick up snow cones.

“I could have handled her on my own.” Damian said, before taking a bite of his treat, “you didn’t need to lie.”

Damian took a good look at the man before him, he had basically collapsed onto the bench when they stopped, the bags under his eyes made drake look well rested.

“What are you talking about?” The man asked before releasing a massive yawn. “I didn’t lie. Believe it or not, you’ve improved a lot since you came home to us. Sure, I could see you pushing someone out of the way a few years ago, but now?”

The man grabbed him by the arm, tugging him into a hug. Damien was too stunned to push back as the man gave him the most comforting, caring hug he had ever had.

“We’re all so proud of you Dan, you’ve come a really long way.”

Damien suddenly felt a pit form in his stomach as realization struck.

He carefully extricated himself from the hug.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding, my name is not Dan.” Damian explained, pulling down the hood on his hoodie.

The man looked at him confused before rubbing his eyes. Taking a second look, his eyes went wide.

“Fuck.” He then proceeded to pull out his wallet. “Do I have enough to bribe a cop?”

Damian frowned, “why exactly would you be bribing the police?”

“Because I apparently just kidnapped a kid.” The man shrugged. “My names Danny by the way.” He said before sluggishly getting up from his seat. “Let’s go see if we can find your parents and my brother.”

“My father is not aware of my current location.”

Danny paused, giving Damian a long look before nodding, “We’ll if your gonna sneak out, at least you went someplace educational.”

Damian looked at him confused as the man stretched.

“Well then, let’s go find Dan and get something to eat before we get you home. I’m sure your father is worried sick.”

Danny then grabbed Damian by the hand and started to lead them back the way they came. The crowds parting at the sight of the large man.

“I do not need an escort, I am more than capable of returning home on my own.”

“That may be so,” the man started. “But I wouldn’t be able to get any sleep tonight if I didn’t make sure you got home safe. You wouldn’t want me to be deprived of sleep, would you?”

Damian considered the statement. The man was clearly on the brink of collapse. “Very well.” He nodded.

The approached the tiger exhibit to pure chaos as the animal handlers tried to retrieve a boy from the tiger cage. Danny sighed before Damian could try to sneak away and jump into action.

“And here I thought I wouldn’t have to bribe anyone today.” Before he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted “DAN FENTON! IF YOU DONT GET OUT HERE IN THE NEXT 2 MINUTES, ILL TELL JAZZ!!”

The zoo keepers nearly panicked as the boy immediately jumped up, completely ignoring the tigers and climbed out to join his brother.

[nosyrobin]

ꫂৎ𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒/𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐗 𝐖𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂!𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

Genre: headcannons

info!☆ Wynorrific, the word of being visually beautiful.. but being horrific at the same times. But reader is a monster in human form, trying to mimick humans for their/her own amusement. Reader goes by they/she & them/her. Sorry if it’s gets confusing.

☆warning: disturbing descriptions & headcannons, the family ignoring how reader is a red flag, a little of crack into this. You have been warned, viewer discretion.

having man eating fem monster into the family.. is crazy. But that’s just the bat-family who can’t help but obsess over this monster who loves to tear into the flesh of humans. The sweet relief of hearing screams gives her them pleasure. Them taking the pleasure of a beautiful woman, but being an abomination to man kind. But Bruce doesn’t care, as long as they make his sons happy.

reader could eating a person’s body, destroying any features that could make them recognizable, and they’ll be like. “Awww they’re hungry…”

don’t give them an axe, she will tear someone’s head open like a busted can.

Once a low level crook accidentally harmed Jason, and they went livid, immediately tackling the crook down and tearing their neck muscle out. Jason could only chuckle in his red hood outfit, “She’s so protective…” while he shoots a guy down without looking.

reader being the type of person to not care for anyone but themself but is literally loved for no reason. That’s the whole thing with the family.

Damian who’s such a little shit, he literally doesn’t know how to approach such a man eater like them… so he brought a dead body to them. What? Can’t a guy make friends with some random monster on earth?

Reader enjoyed the body anyways, he had gained her blessing to not be killed in his sleep.

tim having to get a improved child leash for her. It’s funny, I swear. But it’s so scary.

“Calm down!” He exclaimed trying to hold the monster from tearing into a minion of a villain. The minion sobbed in terror at this.. shadowed face woman that has rows of sharp teeth. Ready to bite into his head and chew his brain like gum.

“Sorry.. she usually isn’t like this.” Tim says with a chuckle as if this was very normal to him. He darkly look at the minion with a grin that doesn’t reach his face. “You must smell very good for her to want to eat you. Would be a shame if I let go of this leash if you don’t give me any information about your boss.

Chomping at the air with harsh gargling noises, it was a disgusting sound as tim just smiled still. “Better get to talking.” Tim loosens his grip a bit. “She’s hungry.”

reader doesn’t even speak, like they are nonverbal. Only making small clicking and crunching sounds from their body and their mouth. But if they were to mimic human language, then their traps to trap people will be lethal

I sometimes headcannon dick to be an officer/detective for a day job. Just imagine how it feels to have people rushing in about their loved ones that died being mauled by something.

oh no! Your husband’s been ripped apart, limb for limb and only his head was left? Well.. too bad. Wonder who could’ve been the culprit. And the culprit is certainly in their little cage, chewing on raw meat.

Damian can trust this abomination won’t eat his pets, because she has shown disinterest into even looking at them. Titus sniffs their feet before barking lightly at the monster. They could only tilt their head and pet the adorable dog.

reader who sticks by wolf in sheep’s clothing. Loving how her human face makes people forget the terrible things she’s done. The no killing rule? Bruce is minding his business, ignoring the crimes of her victims.

reader almost mauling Jason for pulling her back from chowing down on a carcass is something no one wants to see… or know. Cause Jason man handled the monster before their tendrils came out from their back and pinned him down. Thank god Bruce was there to sedate them.

this monster having the most disgusting true form, that even the most nonphased people may even gag and throw up. It’s unsettling….

reader had once used their high heels to stab a guy’s eye in when he tried to follow them. Only to end up missing.

she only uses her tendrils if she needs to apprehend her victims if they are being to hostile or annoying. But she uses them on Damian when he gets too clingy.

Jason mostly using reader for threatening tactics. And it works. WHO wouldn’t be scared of some crazy looking woman who actually shifts her whole body to look mangled and has insanely amount of teeth.

reader being the family’s secret, and if anyone found out and didn’t accept this. They’ll be your supper for later.

Jason who sees her likes for axes, so he bought her a nice pink axe with the sharpest blade of them all. Literally just gets her weapons for Christmas 24/7. Dick also gets her just white dresses, seeing how she likes them.

once showed up to a gala, dressed so nice and preppy, but so elegant at the same time. Sadly, eating someone’s fingers at the gala is not cute.. the monster was banned from galas and had to stay home in a cage til it was over.

Reader who is literally the queen of man eaters. Figuratively and literally. 

and before I go, reader hasn’t eaten the family due to loving the free human meat they get from them. They’re sick, sure. But they’re love sick to keep this monster with them.

[moonstruckme]

Hello Mae! I hope you’re having a wonderful week so far. I have never requested before but I saw your requests were open and I felt inspired! (Forgive me if I do or say something wrong!) I saw that you write for stranger things but I’ve never seen a poly!steddie before! If it inspires you, I thought a little hurt/comfort with some angst could be fun with the boys. Maybe a miscommunication between them when they’re first figuring out the dynamic and one of the boys says something hurtful to writer by accident (we know those silly boys have no brain to mouth filter). Thank you for sharing your writing and working so hard for us, you’re so appreciated and loved! ❤️❤️

Thank you angel <33

poly!steddie x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

“God, it’s worse than I thought.” Eddie rolls onto his stomach on Steve’s bed, dragging the chord of your headphones with him. “How many of these do you have on here?” 

“It’s the whole album,” you say. You’re watching your boyfriends all tangled up on top of the covers, half tempted to join them but too shy to do it. The carpeting on Steve’s bedroom floor is soft enough anyway. 

“Eugh, your poor ears!” 

“You’re such a snob.” Steve gives Eddie’s ankles a halfhearted shove where they’ve fallen over his lap, but really you know he doesn’t mind the contact. 

“No, a snob would tell her to listen to fucking strings music or something,” says Eddie. “I just have taste.” 

“What’s wrong with U2?” you ask. 

Really, you knew better than to think you’d actually get any studying done with your boyfriends. You knew it since Steve invited you over, but that didn’t stop you from going, pep in your step and textbook like a prop in your bag. You were barely ten minutes in when Eddie had plucked your headphones up from your head, taking a listen. He declared your taste in music “laughable.” 

“What’s wrong with U2?” Eddie repeats incredulously. “Baby, where do I start? I didn’t know I had a pop princess on my hands here.” 

You recognize the teasing in his tone, but the jabs at your music selection still taste sour in your mouth. “Oh, because Metallica is so underground.” 

“See, that’s part of it. At least Metallica is real rock. U2 is just—like—I don’t even know what to call them. They say they’re a rock band, but listen to this shit!” He sits up and tries to put the headphones on Steve, who wards him off with a hand. “This is not rock.” 

“You’re a total snob,” Steve repeats, laughing when Eddie only fights harder. 

“No, seriously! This isn’t rock. Plus, have you ever seen Bono perform? It’s totally overdone.” 

“I went to one of their shows,” you say. “Last summer.” 

“Fuck.” Eddie blows out a breath as he gives up on trying to get your headphones on Steve. He collapses against your boyfriend’s side, grinning. “My condolences, then.” 

“I liked it.” 

“Awe. That’s probably because you haven’t been to a real concert yet, huh? Don’t worry, gorgeous, we’ll get you to a good one eventually. Your ears will be relieved.” 

“Yeah, okay.” You roll your eyes. Neither of your boyfriends seem to have notice how you’ve gone quiet, both too absorbed in each other as Eddie lands aggressive kisses on Steve’s cheek and Steve grins and pretends not to like it. For the first time since you started dating, you feel bitterly alone. 

Part of you thinks you might be overreacting. You don’t usually care what people think of your music tastes—they don’t usually fixate on them so intensely, but you generally tend to believe that art is subjective and everyone is entitled to their own preferences. The thing is, you know music is really important to Eddie. He’s made it his life. He plays in a band; half his shirts are band tees; there’s a guitar mounted on his wall that he talks to more sweetly than either you or Steve. So if he thinks your taste in music is garbage, what does that say about what he thinks of you?

“Hey.” Steve nudges you with a foot. You’ve been looking morose without meaning to, not realizing anyone was watching. “You know he’s just kidding, right?” 

“Oh, no,” Eddie says, still grinning, “I don’t kid about concerts. We’re fucking going.” 

You start putting your textbook away. “I think I’m going to finish studying at home.” 

“No, hey,” says Steve, frowning now. “Come on.” 

Eddie’s eyebrows rise as he catches on. “Wait, are you seriously mad?” 

“I’m not mad,” you lie. “I’m just going to go listen to my awful music back at my place, where I can actually study.” 

“Please, you knew what you were getting into, babe. We were never going to study.” Eddie’s trying to joke with you again, but his tone turns serious when you stand up to leave. “Hey, hold on. I’m just messing around. Stay.” 

You turn around, unsure what to say and not really wanting to look at either of them, either. 

“I didn’t know you liked U2 that much,” he says in a softer voice.

“It’s not that I—” You sigh, crossing your arms. “I’m not, like, obsessed with them. I just don’t get why you have to rag on what I like so much.” 

“I was just playing, baby. I’m sorry, I didn’t think you cared, just—c’mere.” 

Eddie wraps a hand around your elbow, tugging you onto the bed with him and Steve. Your arms uncross by the nature of the movement. He gets you between them, kissing the side of your head. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, words all mushed up. Not teasing anymore. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I did, didn’t I?” 

“No,” you say, partially because you don’t want to seem dramatic and partially because it really is difficult to blame someone who’s pressing their lips to your cheek like they plan to leech on and never let go. “Just, I at least pretend to like the things that you like.” 

“Pretend?” Eddie pulls away, looking wounded. 

“Try not to take it personally,” Steve tells you. His hand has found your neck, thumb rubbing at the tense muscles near your shoulders. “He really is a snob. He called me a philistine for listening to Tears for Fears.” 

“Well,” Eddie cuts in, “you are a philistine.” 

“But,” Steve goes on with a narrow-eyed look, “he doesn’t have to be such a dick about it.” 

“Right. Right, yeah, I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Eddie devotes himself to you again, hugging his arms around your waist. “Really. I was just messing with you, I thought we were joking around. We can listen to U2 if you want. We can even—if you want us to, we can go to a concert.” 

He sounds so pained as he says it that it coaxes a small smile out of you. Steve, seeing, squeezes your shoulder encouragingly. 

“I know you had to fight a gag reflex to say that,” you tell Eddie. 

He grimaces. “I may need a vomit bag when we go. But if it’s important to you…” 

“That’s okay.” 

The sigh Eddie lets out is gargantuan. He sinks against your side. “Thank you.” He kisses underneath your jaw. It tickles, but he only latches on tighter when you try to get away. “I knew you loved me. I’ll never make fun of you again.” 

“You can still make some fun of me,” you allow. 

Steve makes a dissenting noise. “Not in an asshole way, though.” 

“No, that’s it. I’m swearing off teasing for the rest of my life. The stakes are too high.” 

“Right, sure.” Steve reaches around you to tug on one of Eddie’s curl gently. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

[sevsbunny]

So something I've been thinking about is how after Sev becomes a Councilor how she probably couldn't, or shouldn't, visit Babette's anymore due to "appearances" (we could say she doesn't give a shit about those, but her "you look weak" to Vander tells me otherwise :) ). I think there would be a more private, fancier brothel in Piltover for 'elites' (maybe not even called a brothel?) And I was wondering how Sevika would navigate that as she gets more pent up with her new status. :) Girls probably act different there too.

Sorry this is anon, my own thoughts embarrassing me. Lmao.

taking it slow

councilwoman!sevika x brothel!reader

not sure with the word count on this one!

18+ ! sensual touching, light teasing, oral / fingering (sevika!) light hair pulling, reader admires the shit out of sevika. sevika is a little shy coming here. just taking care of sevika <3 switch!sevika & reader.

i’m aware that when she’s councilwoman she has her cunt ass bob but for the sake of this fic…she has her old hair. however! there will be other parts to this so…she will have her bob back

EIGHTEEN PLUS. MEN AND MINORS DNI.

sevika was extremely nervous as she walked up to the brothel doors, a few months after the fact that she became councilwoman.

it was hard being as big as she was going out to places like these — it could ruin her status and make the citizens of zaun look weak, like she has other things on her mind. respect her less, even.

she struggled a lot with wondering what she can do that’ll make her happy, without worrying different members of the board. after all, it was her downtime to get a break. she just hated her telling her in the back of her head, ‘don’t fuck this up.’

fortunately though, the higher end brothel piltover offered was of gold status — and it seems like some people who worked as guards in the palace also frequented.

she surveyed the area, the wet air moistening by the minute after a particularly hard rainfall a few hours earlier. she took out a small bag of coins, tossing them to the brothel bodyguard at the front, a head nod from the man after he poked through the pouch and he opened the velvet curtain for her to step through.

she knew there was no way to conceal who she was coming into this place, her stature at 6 foot made her stand out like a sore thumb, along with this deep ruby red cape she wore to conceal her mech arm when it wasn’t in use too much.

she kept her eyes forward, looking through her peripheral vision to see bodies on bodies together. there were suede couches set up against the wall, some arranged in funky places to create a more intimate circle of people. tables littered with cups of alcohol, ashtrays of cigars and joints ashes out or still lit.

skin on skin was everywhere, the sound of moans reverberated over the music and to her ears, making her body shiver. she hadn’t heard anything like this in such a long time, she was worried she’d be overwhelmed with the amount of stimuli until she saw you.

standing there with a hip popped out, you had on a deep purple two piece — a dark purple leather crop vest on your chest that dipped low into your clevage, matched with a dark purple leather skirt that hugged your hips, and if you bent over enough she’d be able to see your clothed pussy. two amethyst stud earrings were in your ears, matched with a black and purple collar that was adorning your neck — the metal loop in the middle in the shape of a heart with a small diamond hanging on the end of the heart.

you wore no makeup, you were gorgeous even under the different colored lights in the brothel. she caught her breath in her throat when you looked over at her, your eyes widening just a smudge before you settled on giving her a short wave

blushing as she averts her gaze, she brushes past people in the crowd as she made her way towards the bar you were standing at. her skin was on fire being this close to you, something she didn’t know she’d ever be able to feel around someone else.

“haven’t seen you before,” the classic pickup line left your sweet lips and ran right through her soul. she perked up after ordering her drink. she nodded, an elbow leaned up against the bar table, her body moving to face you

she had to look down at you, really. you were that short to her.

easy to toss around.

“what brings you in? or i should be asking, who?” you swirl around the drink in your hand she didn’t notice you had, your eyes locked with hers as she struggled to find something to say

what the fuck was wrong with her? she’s never not been able to speak to someone, let alone a gorgeous girl like you.

after a few moments of unspoken silence, you shrug, taking a swig of your drink as the bartender pushes sevika’s drink towards her. “not much of a talker, huh? that’s okay. most people come to suck and fuck before having a drink and conversation.”

it was true, that’s the normal clientele that came through here did, even if they paid good enough they were still assholes. working in piltover did give you a pretty penny, but at what cost?

“just here to look,” sevika finally responded, her voice cracking from lack of usage. she cleared her throat before taking a long swig of her drink, the cool liquid running down her throat and into her system.

she would need a few more with how uptight she was feeling right now.

“look?” you questioned, leaning against the bar as you look up at her. “like you’re shopping for something?” she shakes her head, realizing how she must’ve sounded when she said that

“no! i didn’t mean it like that i…” she huffed, watched you shift from foot to foot waiting for an explanation. “this is just my first time coming as…councilwoman…” she whispers the last part, as if some people didn’t notice her here already.

you hummed at her response, taking it in and going over it in your mind before settling with a solution. “that’s okay, baby. everyone is new somewhere.” you laid a hand on her arm, the arm not covered by her deep ruby red cloak. she feels goose flesh pimple over her skin before she feels her cheeks burn.

you can tell she’s nervous, her shoulders are locked up, you can tell she she hasn’t shaken that, ‘someone is watching me,’ mindset with the way her eyes dart from each exit, looking at everyone in the crowd to remember a face just incase something goes sideways.

you run your thumb on her forearm to soothe her, and at first is kinda throws her off, eyes darting down to where your thumb is rubbing her skin.

“it’s okay, come on. let’s go somewhere quieter.” you say, your tone sweet and gentle as you pull on her arm softly. without her thinking, her feet started moving along with you, following you towards the back. you part open a curtain that looks similar to the one up front, revealing a long hallway of various doors on each side

you don’t say anything as you walk down with sevika’s forearm still in your hold. sort of felt like you were walking your own pet with how big and tall she was. it made your skin shiver with the amount of authority sevika held and how easy it was to get her to calm down and follow you.

“my rooms near the end.” you say, but sevika isn’t really paying too much attention. she grunts in response so you don’t think she ignored you — but she’s more focused on the other rooms with some doors left ajar and wide open.

bodies inside having sex, smoking weed, laying and touching each other. sometimes there were parties of 4+ people, making sevika’s head snap towards the front.

she wasn’t sure why she felt so…awkward when it came to sex now a days. she felt anxious most days, out of place along the seats of piltover people, wearing gold and admonishing their money towards everyone who would listen. she felt out of place, like she wasn’t meant to be here.

she also hadn’t touched another girl in months.

“just down here.” you say again, your hold still gentle on her arm as you pull her up towards your room. a sign on the outside decorated in pretty font with stickers all attatched to the door, she knew it was your room without you telling her.

you unlock the door and turn on the light, pulling her inside. there she looks at your room.

she’s met with the strong scent of rose water and vanilla, some candles look like they had been burned prior to your leaving of your room. she looks around, a four poster bed in the center with baby pink silk sheets, pillows to match and a few stuffed animals on the comforter.

there was a bookshelf that was over flowing with books at this point, she wasn’t sure if the shelves would be able to hold any longer. you didn’t have any things on your walls, explaining that even if you lived here full time — the room still technically wasn’t yours. she commented on the door full of stickers but you laughed and shrugged. “they can take the money from my paycheck.”

in the far corner you had a desk. filled with loose leaf pieces of paper and a few different ink bottles with black quill pens. on the other side of the large desk there was an alter.

candles half burned and old wax running down the sticks. there was a big pink conch shells sitting in the center with pink pearls loosely draped over the shell. around the candle and the conch shells sitting was various items — old pocket change, dried up flowers that looked like carnations and roses, a small glass jar of sand with some other smaller shells, and an over abundance of gold jewelry.

“Aphrodite,” you speak up behind sevika which has her startled, jumping gently in her skin. you come up behind her with a little lighter reaching for one of the pink candlesticks. you held the flame to the wick and watched it burn as you placed it back on the candle holder.

sevika watched the flame flicker slowly at first, before it rose in a straight line and stayed like that for a while. “she’s really nice to work with. especially while here.” you comment, taking a small gold ring from your pinky finger that was adorned with a small ruby, onto the altar right next to one of the old coins

“have you worked with her long?” she asked gently, watching your movements as you nod your head with a soft smile on your face. you walk over to your bed, curling a leg under you as you sit half on and half off the bed. sevika looks around and finds a plush chair with a blanket draped on the back in the corner of your room with a small side table and night lamp on top.

she takes a seat, keeping her arms on the arm rest and relaxing her fingers, and trying to keep her eyes on anywhere except your body. her brain swims back and forth with a long list of bad possibilities of what could happen with her sitting in a place like this.

first of all she could get her title ripped away, not like she wanted it anyways. it was situational. then she wouldn’t be able to protect her people, the ones who meant the most to her. second of all…what if someone busted her? someone called in a anonymous tip to the committee? then she’d surely get fucked.

but the way you were looking at her, your eyes soft and gazing over her figure like you were drinking her in, trying to figure her out — her heart rate slowed. she took in a deep breath, closing her eyes before opening them again, to meet your gaze right back.

you seemed a bit startled, gasping a soft breath as her eyes look towards you and she could see a subtle red blush on her cheeks. you brought your other leg on your bed, before sitting criss cross and your hands in your lap.

“you’re pretty, you know that?” the little laugh that left her lips told you that she didn’t get told that very often. you spread your legs out before moving back against your pillows and smiling. “what?”

sevika hadn’t been called pretty in…well has anyone actually called her pretty like that?

“what makes me pretty, doll?” your breath caught in your throat at the nickname that played on her lips, her eyelids lowering just a smidge, enough for you to notice the gaze in her eyes darkening.

“well…” you get up from your bed, sauntering your way over to her. your feet were bare now in your room, the only sound in the space was the way your foot pressed against the plush carpet with each step towards her, and the soft breathing from the two of you. she swore you could hear her heart hammering in her chest.

you came to her side, your finger trialing along her exposed forearm, her eyes darting up the expanse of the skin up to sevika’s chest, where multiple straps and buttons kept her tightly in her clothes.

your fingers itched to undo them slowly, run your lips down her skin and between her breasts, just to hear how she sounded. you licked your lips before shaking your head to yourself. she wasnt comfortable with that, she didn’t seem comfortable being here in the first place. you knew that wasn’t the case, that sevika had frequented places like this before but only in zaun. but you figured being councilwoman made her tense.

you kept your finger trailing up her arm to her shoulder, before tucking in a stray piece of her hair that fell from her half bun, right behind her ear. “first of all, you smell really good.” she chuckled, looking up at you as she taps her mech fingers slowly on the leather chair. “like sandalwood, smoke,” you whispered gently.

“your eyes…breathtakingly easy to get lost in.” you trailed off as you walked behind her, your hand coming to cup the bottom of her chin as you stood right behind her head. you pulled her head back enough to look down into her eyes, her uneven full lips parted as a soft breaths escapes her throat.

she blinks at you, and you blink back, eyes trailing over the scars and blemishes that decorate her warm, brown skin. your thumb runs over her bottom lip softly, pulling on it enough to make it wobble back into place when you release it. you keep her gaze for a second, your fingers going to undo the clasp that held her cloak together.

she resisted from stopping you, knowing you wouldn’t make a move on her without asking her first. the way you were touching her, softly and gently as you list out the things you find pretty about her. her head swims full with just the feeling of you touching her skin, the sound of your voice light on her ears.

your hands come to pull the cape off entirely, hanging it up quickly on the hook next to the door before coming to her left side with her mech hand. “and this, i mean…” you trail your finger tips down the smooth gold metal of her arm. you watched in real time as the gears ticked back and forth, forever having her arm on the go. “this is beautiful.” you murmur softly, looking up to meet sevika’s anxious gaze.

you pouted your pretty pink lips, making the anxiety go for a moment as she looked at you. “what is it, doll?” she turns her head slightly as she looks at you curiously, her eyes darting between your eyes, to your nose and quickly to your lips before she snaps back to your eyes.

“can i touch you?” you ask softly, a silent permission to say no if she so desired. but the way you were looking at her right now as you moved in between her spread out thighs, your own bare thighs touching hers, she couldn’t help but nod.

you smiled gently as you grab a soft pillow from your bed before sink to your knees, your hands running over the fabric of her thick thighs. “gonna need you to say something, angel.” you asked softly , digging your nails gently into her thighs. she shuddered softly, the authority written all over your face.

“yes, you can touch me baby.” her voice is low, barely above a whisper as your eyes darken. you smile in response, leaning to give her knees two quick kisses before your hands come up the expanse of her thighs and to her pants button

you pop it open with ease, sliding the zipper down and with sevika’s help as she lifts her hips, her pants come off in one swift movement. you discard them next to you, eyeing her clothed cunt. you look up at her and meet her gaze, her eyes lids lowering, pupils widening.

you lean in, your nose bumping against her clothed clit. you inhale deeply, smelling her arousal and mail, your mouth watering to get a taste of her. you lick a soft stripe up her clothed cunt, a shudder leaving her lips as she watches you with a lustful gaze.

“can i taste you?” you ask softly, eyelashes batting up at her as she nods quickly, moving to push her boxers down before your hands rested on hers, sopping her movements. “let me, baby.” you coo, authority dripping form your tone but your gaze is gentle as you speak to her.

she feels her cunt throb at the action.

you leaned forward, taking your fingers and hooking it into the crotch of her underwear, drinking in the feeling of how wet she made the fabric. she lets out a soft gasp as you reveal her wet cunt to you, the cool air hitting her lips and making her shiver.

“another thing that’s pretty is this pussy,” you breathe out, looking up at her momentarily before you take your other hand and thumb her clit slowly, pulling the hood up just a bit to reveal the rest of her swollen clit.

her hips jerked in reaction, a grunt leaving her throat as you sat there and touched her, softly. you didn’t do anything else with your hands, your eyes just fixated on the way her cunt clenches gently in anticipation, under her gaze.

leaning in, your tongue poked out jsut enough to circle around her clit, tasting her on your tongue instantly. you let out a soft groan as you taste her, your eyes rolling shut as you position your hands to keep her thighs spread wide for you.

“fuck…” she breathes out, leaning back in her chair and moving her hips forward to give you better access to her cunt. your tongue makes slow movements, licking down her clit, her folds and to her dripping hole. you circle the tip of your tongue around her entrance, making her flesh hand come to grip the back of your head.

“don’t tease me, babygirl.” she groans as she pushes your face a bit further into her cunt. you obey her command, gripping her thighs as you slip your tongue into her cunt, warm and wet around the muscle. you moan, and you can tell she’s enjoying herself as she starts to needily grind her hips against your face

“just like that, shit…” she tips her head back, eyes fluttering shut as she focuses on the languid motions of your tongue against her folds, lapping up every single drip of slick that falls from her pussy. you could feel her arousal stick to your chin and cheeks, dripping down the chair and onto your skin.

you didn’t care, you loved how messy she was getting, her moans getting louder and deeper with each thrust of your tongue fucking into her hole. you brought one hand from her thigh as you pressed your thumb against her clit, firmly rubbing circles as you continues the assault of your tongue on her cunt

she squeezes your tongue, making a moan rip from your throat against her. she feels the vibrations of your moan rip through her from her cunt, her hips bucking against your face. you took your other hand, her legs staying spread, as you took your tongue from her hole. she whined in protest from the loss of your muscle, but shortly letting out a groan as you slip two of your fingers into her hole.

“there you go, baby. you like that?” you ask gently, peering up at her and watching as her chest rise and falls each each thrust of your fingers, moans slipping form her lips.

she lets out a whimpered, ‘yes,’ her back arching off the chair as she lets go of the armrests of the chair and right to your head, fingers digging into your hair and pushing you closer to her cunt, if that was even possible.

“pretty moans,” you moan against her as you suck her clit harshly, circling your tongue and flicking her clit as she moans out, riding your face and grinding messily into you. “you gonna cum, vika?” she moans in response, her cunt clenched your fingers as she meets your gaze, a fucked our expression across her features.

“fuck, yes, please i’m gonna cum…” he grips your hair as you feel her cunt squeezes your fingers as she cums, tasting her squirt on your tongue which made you moan as the taste, your fingers slipping easily in and out of her puffy cunt.

“that’s it, thank you vika, fuck…” you moan against her, feeling your cunt clenching and clit throbbing at the whole ordeal, how she spread for you like this in your chair, leaving herself vulnerable for you to take.

and you fucking have.

she frowns as she’s wheats you thank her for cumming against your tongue as you slip your fingers slowly from her cunt and into your mouth, sucking the digits while looking up at her

you lower face was covered in her slick, dripping down your chin. she leans forward quickly before you can even blink an eye, gripping g the back of your head with her metal hand and her flesh hand coming to grip your chin.

she pushes her lips against yours, moaning as she tastes herself on your tongue as she pulls you closer, a shim pier leaving your lips. you felt your body melt into the plush floor below you, into her touch and lost in the way her lips felt against yours.

she pulls away after a moment, her lips shiny with spit and her slick, eyes heavy lidded as she stares as you. “my turn to list all the things pretty about you now, doll.”

[zreamy]

things i know that i can't have (teaser)

jake's life was hard enough before he fell for you—balancing uni, football, and being a good christian son. in some cruel twist of fate, sleeping with you has only made things harder—and, according to sunghoon (and scripture), damned him to hell the first time he thought about it.

genres: college au, (established) fwb to lovers, smut, fluff, angst

teaser warnings: minors dni, smut (yn sends nudes and jake jerks off)..........extremely dramatic (jake is going through it basically)

teaser word count: 1,125 (chose peace)

fic word count: probably around 35k???

post date: apr 3 !!!

message from zo: yeah uh huh zreamy finally finished a jake fic.. yeah uh huh (i say as i'm still writing this fic.. im affirming #lawofassumption ..sigh whatever whatever) the wip page is literally cursed !!! it is it is it is .. anyway.. jake nation will always win accept me please jake nation.......

r/Christianity 

u/footballfan1511 | 2m

How bad is premarital sex, really? (Need quick answers!!!)

I (20M) have been having sex with my friend (20F) for three weeks now. I knew it was wrong, but she’s everything (very hot, totally, completely sexy), so I didn’t care. BUT I just saw this verse (Matthew 5:28-30) and apparently it’s a sin just to THINK about it??? 

The last time we did ‘it’ was this morning before church (sorry), and I was supposed to go over there tonight, but I’ve been freaking out about that verse all day…….. idk what to do but I really like her, so much, and I still want this, with her. Please give me advice .. 

Every Thursday night. Ten p.m. sharp. Almost no exceptions. You call Jake, talking shit for as long as it takes one thing to lead to another. Tonight is an exception—you had friends over, rescheduled for midnight. Jake lies in bed, hair still damp from his post-football training shower, counting each minute as it passes. 23:55. His leg is shaking. 23:56. He sits up straight, jolting as if waking from a nightmare, nerves sharp and restless as his thumbs fly over the keyboard, texting Sunghoon. 

Jake: What about phone sex?

Jake: Like if I don’t think about her while I do it? 

Sunghoon’s groan reaches Jake through the thin walls of their shared flat. Drawn-out and long-suffering. Read receipt. 23:57. Three dots. 

Hoon: I can’t tell you what to think, but if you’re asking me then you probably alr know

Hoon: Also..??? Do you think you can jack your shit on the phone without thinking about her 😭😭😭

Jake snorts despite himself, much too loud for the quiet. Echoing as if even the room disapproves. He closes his eyes, shakes his head. Palm to his cheek. A low smack, half-joking, half-sincere. Guilt snakes around him, a hot, unwelcome coil that won’t ease. Jake gets the sense that the choice ahead — to answer or not to answer — might drastically skew his life one way or another. 

A minute early. 23:59. Your name on his screen. Phone humming in his hold, pulse lashing his throat. On the other end of the line, before he has the chance to weigh his options, you dead the call—making his decision for him. 

Jake’s heart stumbles, clumsy in his chest. He thinks of the verse, sharp and prickly—crown of thorns on heavy head. He has been thinking about it since Saturday morning. Extra training with Team B, avoiding you, six-thirty wake-ups to join Sunghoon at the rink. Ice-cold mornings melting into afternoons. No matter what he tries, it always comes back. Lustful intent, adultery, with her. And despite his best efforts to pray for rapture, Thursday has come, and Jake has lived to see it. 

A minute late. 00:01. Your name on his screen. Hovering thumb. He knows that phone sex and sex-sex aren’t the same thing, Matthew didn’t even have a phone—but if he could’ve, and he could’ve known you, and you wanted him? Jake sighs. He should answer. If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off, and throw it away. The words sink their senile claws into him, holding on for dear, frail life. His phone stills in his palm. 

You don’t call again. You never have. If this phone call is going to happen, it’s up to Jake to make it so. This knowledge and its weight multiply by the second. An itch he doesn’t try to scratch, knowing he won’t be able to reach it. Another agonising nine minutes trudge along. 00:10. His phone buzzes on his chest, and he knows it’s you before he looks. Two texts.

YN: Said you’d stay up for me Yunie :((( 

YN: You don’t think I’m worth the wait?

Reading your messages through the notifications, he’s having a hard time convincing himself not to reply. Not to tell you he waited, that of course, you’re worth it. His guilt loosens, making space for his desire to reassure you—he cannot rule out the possibility that this desire outweighs his guilt. Silence settles in his room, stretched thin and strange around him. He sighs. 

YN: Attachments: 2 images

YN: Wanted to hear your reaction, but you can tell me when you’re up ig.

YN: Night, loser :P 

Butterflies, sudden and bright—teenaged. Foolish. Tucked under the notification, the photos dare him to look. His curiosity clicks it, and the first picture fills the screen, yanking his breath from his lungs. 

Most of your face is cut off, showing only your lips—pouty and glossy and pretty. Pulling at him in a way he’s not quite equipped to name. This would be enough for him, an innocent selfie, you and those pretty eyes, that smile. More than enough—pulse quickening just thinking about it. His gaze lingers on your lips, stuck for a while. Then, unintentionally, his eyes flick lower. Hair fanned over your pillow, breasts peeking out from under black lace. Fuck. A sight he’s seen a million times, but somehow, each time feels like the first. Jake gulps. Holy shit. He ignores the throbbing in his pants, how much tighter they are—he won’t give in. No matter how badly he’s craving it. He’s stronger than that. With his eyes, he traces your lips. Ogles until his screen dims, locking the picture away again.

Picture two. Fuck. You on your stomach, grainy in your webcam. Arched back, black lace panties over your hips. Fuck. The lingerie, the shape of your body.. Seeing you like this, so perfect and all for him—it’s taking every last shred of his self-control not to get in his car and rush over to you. Want, need, tugs at him. A tether he can’t break. His phone locks. 

Enough is enough. He drags his feet all the way back to the shower, oppressive cold water hitting him. Doing absolutely nothing for his revolting need. This isn’t working—not the water, not the attempt at self-control. Not when he’s already hard and aching against his stomach. Soft breasts. Round ass. Wet—his hand moves instinctively, forehead resting on the cool tiles. He closes his eyes, your body clear in the dark. Full lips. Arched back. He’s breathless when he finishes, head bowed as heat coils low in his stomach. The water carries his release away. Nose crinkled as it swirls around the drain, cringing at the sight—guilt, shame curling around him.

Again, he dries off, pulls on clean pyjamas, and drags his feet to bed. On his side, he closes his eyes, your body like a brand behind his eyelids, thoughts filling the quiet in his room. Exhaustion however, is its own kind of mercy, and eventually, pulls him under.

[eureka-its-zico]

Residuals Pt 3

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: You and Robby spent seven long years together until the day it ended. You’ve done your best to create space; to become invisible. You can’t miss what you don’t see. Unfortunately, the universe (Gloria and the Board of Directors) seemed to have missed the memo.

Pairing: Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch x Reader

Genre: Established previous relationship, slight age gap (by about 15 years give or take), a little bit of tension mixed in with a little bit of hate yearning, cause she’s a saucy angsty fic ok

A/N: Screaming at the top of my lungs because you have all been so incredibly lovely and sweet. I appreciate every single one of your comments, reblogs, and your excitement over this spur-of-the-moment series idea. Honestly, I can gush forever. Thank you! This chapter is centered around a little extra backstory on their relationship (briefly). I noticed it's around ep. 4 when everything starts popping off in the show (and I have scenes already pre-written cause I’m excited!) so I hope the story stays entertaining and true to showing slow insights into characters, their flaws, and being human. As always, I hope you all enjoy this next chapter. Much Love. Jenn

Thank you to the bestie @viridian-dagger for humoring me and checking all of my work. Thank you for helping keep me sane.

Words: 7208

Previous I Next

You remembered with agonizing clarity the last day you’d seen Robby. You could recall down to the very marrow of the hour how you’d watched him grab his backpack and head out the door. 

If you weren't careful, your subconscious loved to dredge that particular memory up in frequent rotation. 

If you weren’t careful, always on mental high alert, the memories came violently to the forefront demanding that you remember what it felt like to walk the halls of your home in nothing but his shirts. It had you up late in the middle of the night writing a list of all the achingly obvious differences between the empty bed you now slept in and the one you’d shared with him. How his large frame curled against your back or how his nose pressed into the crook of your neck before he woke you, trailing kisses down your collarbone. 

Sometimes, Robby held you so tight you’d jokingly ask if he was trying to morph together like The Thing. 

You’d gotten used to the quiet in your home. The lack of security knowing another person was there. You’d learned to portion down your meals, so you didn’t make some on accident for two, or three when Jake was home for the week. You did laundry less and didn’t have to fold as much. There was no one to help you build furniture or tear it down. The trash was handled by you and only you. Dishes sat questionably for longer in the sink than they should’ve. There were no hands on your hips to keep you steady as you demanded to be an independent woman and use the step ladder to change broken fixtures and lightbulbs. No car rides with blues gently playing through the speakers with his hand on your thigh. 

No. You were reminded every minute of every day since you’d left of what you lost. What you chose to leave behind.

The day you left you’d waited in the hall. In the past, before the pandemic, before the world went to shit and stopped making sense, Robby waited for you to send him off. You’d bring him his backpack full of protein bars, a homemade sub sandwich (if he ever got to it), and instant coffee packets when he didn’t. The moment you were close enough for him to grab - to touch - Robby would reach for you. 

Before Robby, you didn’t know what it felt like to be worshipped; to be craved and wanted so badly that they couldn’t wait for the moment they could touch you. The safety of trusting someone because they loved you without pretense allows you to be comfortable enough to be good, bad, weird, and everything in between. 

“You’re my favorite person.” He’d told you this randomly, while you’d both been curled up on the couch. Your cheek pressed against his chest. You heard the slight change in rhythm before he spoke. It was an answer to a question you’d asked weeks ago. One he refused to answer because “What are we in junior high?” 

You didn’t believe in fairytales or the idea of perfect relationships. You believed in what someone’s actions said about them when they tried to cover them up with words. You didn’t know what it was like to have someone choose you, all of you, until Robby. 

Whenever he had the chance, Robby was always touching you - light traces of fingers that drew aimless doodles in your skin while he read. His hand glided across your back as he passed you in the kitchen or the hallways at work. Once Robby learned how much you loved having his hands on you, he found ways to use them all the time - in ways that made you feel secure and others that were far from innocent. 

But out of everything, Robby always made sure you were taken care of and, most of all, loved. 

Usually, when Robby departed from the house, he used his large frame to crowd into your space. Possessive hands snaked around your waist to pull you flush against him. Every time, like clockwork, you eagerly respond to his touch. Your neck already falling back just enough for his mouth to slate over yours.

Those memories of better days, days where you didn’t have to question if he still loved you, are what made the last day so hard. You stood there, silently hoping that he would turn around. That Robby would just stop putting in his air pods, looking everywhere but at you, and finally acknowledge you. You didn’t want your last fight to be what you remembered - the words you’d hurled at one another with tired vehemence the final thing you heard. 

You just wanted him to love you like he used to. But the problem was, you weren’t sure if you could love him how you used to anymore either. 

“I think you should take Kiara up on her offer, Michael. You need to speak with someone even if it isn’t her.”

“Jesus,” he huffed. A hand scrubbed at his face before latching behind his head. His eyes screwed tight as if he could simply blink the conversation away. “Here we fucking go again.”

“Yes, here we go again. We wouldn't have to keep doing this merry-go-round around the issue if you would just admit - “

“Admit what?” His voice rose in challenge, and it took every ounce of you not to return it. “You seem to want me to say I’m broken so you don’t have to be the only one.”

“That’s bullshit,” you scoffed, pushing your dinner plate further down the table. 

You weren’t hungry anymore.

“It’s not bullshit! I’m not the only one in this room who won’t be honest with themselves.”

“That’s real rich coming from you, Michael. If you think that’s true, look me in my eyes and admit you don’t feel some type of way since he passed. And I never once fucking said that you were broken - “

“That’s the point! You don’t have to. I can see it in the way you look at me. The way you talk to me. It’s like no matter what the fuck I say you don’t believe me. You just want me to be depressed like - “

“Like what, Michael.”

The room went glacial cold. Your eyes turned to slits as you waited for him to finish his sentence. A piece of you prayed he didn’t because you didn’t know how much more you could take before you finally broke. 

“Like you,” he sighed, voice defeated as if he hated saying it as much as you hated hearing it. “You haven’t been the same since -”

“Shut up.”

“- it happened and I’m sorry. I - I wish I’d been there - “

“I said shut up! Jesus, just stop talking!” 

The venom in your voice was toxic. It had your arm lashing out and shoving the plate of food off the table. The sound of tableware clattering and glass breaking dimmed the flash of anger enough to be embarrassed at your outburst. You hadn’t meant to do it. Just like you hadn’t meant to do a lot of things since Adamson passed, since the pandemic, and…since you received the news. 

It was written plainly in the silence held between you. The unspoken depression from two different spectrums left you both unable to help the other. Neither of you knew how to bridge the gap your stubbornness bred.

Doctors were historically the worst patients because of that very reason. Pride. You used to believe Robby and you didn’t share an ounce of it between you, but you’d been wrong. You forgot you were both human and flawed.   

“I just want to help you, Michael. Please. Ever since Adamson passed and - and what happened - “

“He doesn’t have anything to do with what happened! What happened fucking happened because it’s nature. It’s - it just wasn’t our time. You’ve got to stop beating yourself up for something you have no control over. How many times have we told our patients this?” Robby looked up from his hands and you wished he hadn’t. His watery eyes were close to spilling; the tsunami of pain was all-consuming and when he whispered your name before he spoke again, you wanted to shatter. “You’re killing yourself from the inside out with this self-hatred.”

How many times have you been told that exact thing? It was an unfortunate natural process. It just ‘happened’. Every word is sterile and scientific which makes you feel less and less like a person. And what about the news that came after? Was that natural too? 

Maybe you were the one who was broken.

“Adamson happened too, and you haven’t been the same since we lost him. You’re on edge more, Mike. You snap at work and home. You’re closed off. You’re so desperate to put it under the rug that we only focus on me? Bring up my faults so we can bury yours.”

A sneer pulled up his lips as he turned away from you. His eyes scan over the shelves and furniture in the room - looking everywhere but at you. 

“You just want to help me? That’s what you keep feeding yourself but in reality, you just want me to be who I was before this. I don’t know if I can be that man again and when I tell you that, you act like a fucking child going around slamming doors.” Shame flushed up your face, turning your cheeks red with embarrassment. You’d done that and worse. You thought you could wait whatever this was out until it got better. But it wasn’t better. It was worse and you were so, so tired. “You want to focus on me but what about you?”

“You aren’t the only one hurting - that lost someone. You left me! You fucking left me to deal with it all on my own. Where the fuck were you when I needed you?”

“I’ve been right here with you!” Robby shouted back. “I’m right here with you, baby, but you don’t fucking see it. You won’t let me in.”

The tears you struggled to contain escaped in one shaky exhale. You carried around so much of your shame and guilt - tried repairing the cracks with quick fixes so Robby wouldn’t see because the last thing you wanted was pity. You didn’t want the confirmation that you were irreparably broken. 

“But you’re not here. Are you? Not really.” 

The earlier flash of rage was extinguished with each word. This job was a marvel and a curse. It took and took without forgiveness. Sometimes you’re fighting to save people who don’t want to be saved; who’ve never known the support and love they needed to believe they were more than their demons. Who wanted to succumb to a brief drop of loneliness in the ocean of a lifetime. Or you saw the ugliness that people did to one another and left you having an existential crisis if someone’s bad choice made their life unworthy of saving. 

Robby dealt with all of these things daily. He shouldered them for every friend in the hospital. For every patient who needed the strength of his resolve and the care he delivered. He gave all that and more during the pandemic and now he’d given so much that there wasn’t much left to tend to himself. 

Robby used to lean on you for just about everything. Sometimes, your talks were gradual - opening up little by little until everything was exposed. Other times, they came in bursts. A rush of words said too fast because if neither of you just ripped the band-aid off and said it, nothing would ever get fixed. Now all of that came to a screeching halt. You didn’t know what he was feeling anymore or thinking. He shut you out in so many ways. You tried to break through and failed. 

You both stood at separate spectrums of grief and neither of you knew how to reach the other anymore.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

You hadn’t meant about your relationship. You wish you could’ve said that - informed him that the despair and betrayal of your own body left you in a place of purgatory. The pandemic stripping you bare and raw pressing salt into every wound. How was Robby supposed to love you if you didn’t know how to love yourself?

But it’s not how it sounded leaving your lips. It’s not how he took it as you watched his shoulders deflate. The emptiness that hollowed out his eyes in protection and left them empty as you felt. 

“No one is forcing you to stay.”

You never did get to tell him you saw him - saw that he’d been there waiting for you to open up. He wasn’t who he was, but he’d still tried the best he could in whatever ways he could. In the end, you believed you deserved punishment. 

Maybe that’s what losing Robby was - the universe's way of dishing it out for a wrong you never knew you committed. 

It felt suffocating; your chest caved to create a black hole of grief that felt never-ending. You watched as the pandemic tore him down piece by piece - shredding him to ribbons. So many lives were ravaged by the virus with no way to combat it. You remembered the overwhelming, crushing feeling of seeing dozens of patients lining hallways because there were no more beds. Every doctor, nurse, RTs, and CNAs struggled to care for every patient and be with those in their final moments because the families couldn’t. It was chaos. It was frightening. It felt like it would go on forever. The last thing anyone expected was for Adamson to get sick. For the virus to infiltrate his body and claim his life. 

Robby had run outside, tearing off his hazmat suit. Unable to breathe around the soul-crushing grief that constricted the air from his lungs. He’d crumbled like a house of cards as you held him in your arms, but he wasn’t allowed to grieve. He was a doctor, you were still a fucking doctor, and neither of you were allowed to grieve. You needed to compartmentalize; sew up the fraying edges of your grief and go back inside and be the doctors everyone needed.

It was agony watching what came after. The way he struggled day and night to get any amount of rest while wrestling with his demons. The guilt kept him up at night and woke him screaming covered in a cold sweat. Eventually, he stopped sleeping in bed with you all together. Slowly, you saw him less at home and only at work. You watched while the anxiety ate him alive and transformed him into someone you could barely recognize, and you felt helpless against it. At any moment, the pain in your chest would swallow you whole.

And just when you thought, given a few months, you’d be able to find new joy in your life, it all came crashing down again.

So, you waited in that hallway. You waited for any sign that you should stay. You waited to see if you’d change your mind and begin to be honest with him. You waited for him to at least turnaround and look at you - for the recognition of the life you’d had months before to flash in those beautiful brown eyes. You waited in the hallway even after he’d left - waited for your tears to dry before you went upstairs to pack up your old life and find a new one. 

You’d expected a lot of possibilities when Gloria brought you back down to the Pitt. You considered all the variables and the endless amount of what-ifs. It felt inevitable for you to end up in this very situation; him being the attending, in charge of the Pitt, and overseeing a case. The only thing you hadn’t accounted for was how the heat of his body pressed against your back made you forget how to breathe. Your mouth suddenly dry and your heart pounded violently against the ache in your chest. 

Was Robby even aware of what he was doing? You could practically feel him take a breath he was so fucking close. Fuck, you wanted to scream and you almost did when you felt his gloved hand move across your lower back as he stepped around you. The old desire to touch you every chance he could was a surprise to you both when the reflex made its appearance. It must have been a mistake - a subconscious tick because old habits can die hard. It was the only thing that made sense. You fought the urge to mouth a, ‘What the fuck?’ at him. Did he even realize what he’d done? If he did, he was damn good at hiding it. 

You needed to get your shit together. You brought him in here for your patient.

“Allan,” you began to introduce him and found you had to clear the warble from your voice. “Allan, this is Dr. Robby. He’s the attending doctor here in the emergency department. Robby, this is Allan and his mother, Rebecca.”

“Pleasure to meet you both. Now, Allan, why don’t you tell me what brings you in today?”

Once Robby agrees to your use of wire cutters to remove the key rings, conferring on medications during and after a take-home prescription, you immediately go to work. It took a few extra minutes of explaining to Allan (and his very traumatized mother) that you would be as gentle as possible, but the longer the key rings stayed on to cut off circulation, the higher the chance of necrosis would occur. You also promised him lidocaine to numb the area. Lots and lots of lidocaine. 

You’d just signed off on discharge paperwork and spoke with him one last time about maybe just buying what he wanted to try next time. It was not only the safer option but probably more fun and less mortifying than having his mom bring him here. 

You stepped out of the room and made your way up to Dana’s desk. While you’d been in the room doing minor surgery to metal keys, you’d heard a couple of new traumas that arrived through the ambulance bay. The one that unfortunately had stuck with you was the nineteen-year-old kid who’d been found unresponsive. Nineteen. Two years older than Jake. 

For years you tried to make sense of how it was possible to become so attached to a son that wasn’t even yours. You didn’t give birth to Jake and missed the beginning stages of his life. You met him at his ninth birthday party and thought he would automatically hate you. Instead, he asked you questions about superheroes and if you had a favorite wrestler. 

The relationship between Robby and Jake’s mom had been hard to navigate. Harder when you came into the picture because all mothers are understandably weary of unknown variables and people around their children. You did your best not to step on any toes and bided your time until Jake’s mom trusted you - felt comfortable enough - with your presence to allow Jake to stay over when he asked Robby. 

You went on field trips as a chaperone when Jake asked, helped him build science fair projects, and tried your best to play basketball with Jake and Robby. You were better at three-pointers and playing horse than the original two - on - two. Jake chose to see you as another parent. His mother decided to let you be a part of his life and knowing Robby, loving Robby, brought you all together. You were forever grateful to both of them for it. 

But seeing cases like this one - hearing about them - caused a cold sweat to spread across your body. Jake was a good kid - a smart kid but even smart kids could make mistakes. 

You pulled your phone out of your back pocket and continued moving towards where Dana sat front and center in all the chaos. She was currently on the phone but her eyes tracked you as you made your way towards her. 

Quickly, you unlocked your phone and went to your messages. You tapped on Jake’s name.

Mom v2.0 ~ Hey kiddo just checking in. Everything good?

You were about to lock the phone and put it away when his reply came back at lightning speed. 

JakeTheRipper ~ Hey! Ya everything’s 👍🏽 I’m coming by the hospital later to get tickets from dad. Be cool to see you.  JakeTheRipper ~ if you can! JakeTheRipper ~ if you have the time!

You and Jake never lost contact with one another after you and Robby split. It’d been his golden rule and who were you to break rules, especially golden ones? But you hadn’t seen him since he was fifteen. The last weekend you spent housed up in the house - his teenage self picking up a dark cloud stole the warmth from the home. 

He’d asked to see you a few times since then but you were always busy. Always unsure if you were overstepping. But you were here now and he said he was coming here anyways so -

“What’s got you smiling all goofy?”

Dana’s question sent you crash landing back into the present. You were standing directly in front of her seated position, phone in one hand and wire cutters in the other while a perfectly arched brow did most of her questioning.

“Ugh, it’s nothing,” you replied, tucking the phone back into your pocket. 

God, you were acting suspicious. Be natural. Be cool. 

“You got a boyfriend or something?”

“Oh, god no, no, no.”

You were throwing in way too many no’s. 

You felt like you were under a microscope when Dana’s eyes narrowed in on you like this. A cold sweat was going to happen any minute now. 

“There aren’t that many things that make women smile at their phones like that.”

“Memes make people smile at their phones because they’re witty and funny. A good deal on a pair of shoes, funny videos of animals, or cute babies…anyway,” you mumbled before handing the wire cutters over the top of her computer. “Ron the maintenance guy should be coming by to pick these back up. If I miss him, can you let him know I appreciate him letting me borrow these?”

“Did you tell him what they were gonna be used for?”

“Oh, god no, and please Dana don’t tell him I used it to cut key rings off a patient's penis.”

“You mean he didn’t know why you were asking for them?” She laughed. Dana fucking laughed and it eased the tension from your shoulders tenfold. “I think at least owe the man some kind of lunch, don’t you?”

“Ugh, well, I disinfected them. Twice? Does that count?”

Another bark of laughter came as she shook her head in disbelief. She was still smiling when she reached out and took the cutters from your hand. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be up in triage?” Langdon asked, sliding in on your right. 

“Did you come all the way over here from your spot in hell to ask me that, Langdon? Are we slacking off today or willfully choosing to be lazy?”

Langdon shot you a sarcastic smile before he reached over to grab a tablet and handed it over to the med student who’d been with him before. Her dirty blonde hair was slicked back into a tight ponytail and her glasses gave her an almost childlike demeanor that was only enhanced by the excited way she bounced on her heels. Her hand shot across the counter in way of introduction. 

“Melissa King - everyone calls me Mel.”

She was so eager - sweet - that you almost warned her to be cautious in the Pitt. It tends to eat the good ones alive. 

“Dr. Fullerton,” you replied, taking her hand briefly. “I remember you from earlier. Hopefully, Langdon is taking care of you and isn’t showing you what not to do during a residency?”

“Ha, that’s very funny, Fullerton. How long has it been since you’ve been down here? You’ve probably gone soft with all the babying they do upstairs.”

“Out of the two of us, Langdon who is still in their last year of residency and who is a board-certified doctor?”

“You know what I smell?” 

“I don’t smell anything,” Mel interjected, thin lines of confusion creasing around her eyes.

“No, I don’t mean - it’s metaphorical, Dr. King.” 

“Okay, kids that's enough. Robby sees you two both standing here bickering, you'll both be in trouble.”

“Is that your way of telling us to go back to taking care of the board?” You asked. 

“No, it’s my way of telling you both to get the hell away from my station. Now shoo both of you,” Dana retorted, using a stack of patient demographics to swat at Langdon and you. 

“I’m going, I’m going,” you surrendered, backing away. 

You were mid-turn when an enthusiastic wave from Dr. King was thrown your way. 

“It was nice to meet you. Again,” she excitedly called after you. 

She seemed too pure to have picked the Pitt. Everyone had their reasons for doing residencies here and, hell, you believed med students should be mandated to work at least one full rotation in an emergency department to truly learn. Mel, however, made you just want to protect her from the harsh realities of a place like this. It could be soul-crushing and there is no way to prepare yourself for when it happens.

“Likewise, Mel. If you ever want a break from ER Ken you’re more than welcome to come find me.”

“She’s good where she’s at, Fullerton.”

You didn’t bother giving a retort; you and Langdon could keep up the verbal back and forth the whole shift. You were only a couple feet away when you heard Dr. King state, “She seems nice.”

“Yeah. She’s alright. A little unhinged, but alright.”

Each word had been pulled like teeth from him; admitting you weren’t the absolute worst thing in the world, or at least inside this hospital, you knew made Langdon grumpy. Those few words left a sour taste in his mouth admitting anything nice about you, but it was enough for you because it meant one thing for you. There was hope that today wouldn’t be a total disaster after all. 

It was a busy morning but mornings were always busy in the Pitt. There shouldn’t have been a reason the hum of panic constantly buzzed behind his ears. It only grew louder the closer he got to the pediatrics wing of rooms. The bright colors blazed out into the hallway; all greens and blues. Animal motifs meant to instill comfort instead summoned what he’d struggled to keep buried. 

Dana already caught him helplessly trapped outside the room. The memory of that day - the last day with Adamson - flashed vividly like every nightmare he’d had of that day since. Robby had been so engrossed in the recollection of monitors blaring and Princess shouting for him to do something, “Robby we’re losing him,” that he wasn’t able to shake the feeling of dread off. 

He knew Dana noticed. The way her eyes craned over his shoulder to take in the peds room was the only confirmation he needed. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. When do I ever make you worry about me?”

“Are you kidding?” Dana chuckled. “All the time.”

They both knew he was lying. Robby never did confirm it when Dana asked, but he didn’t need to. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be fine or even close to simply being okay. Even after four long years, Robby found he still sought Adamson’s advice. Moments in the Pitt he swore he could hear him directing the room; asking questions to challenge Robby because “a doctor never stops learning.”

He missed being able to confide in him. The expectant look on Adamson’s face when Robby asked about situations in his life where he was at a loss of what to do. 

Robby needed to change the subject - and lead Dana down a safer path of questioning that he could handle. If he could keep himself away from that room he should be okay. He could handle you being here and everything else if he didn’t have to step foot in that room. He should’ve known there was no safe space where Dana wasn’t going to bring you up. Robby could see the hard exterior she tried to keep up to defend against your presence was beginning to crack. 

Maybe so was his. 

“The two of you looked cozy earlier.”

“Dana, you know I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

“Uh-huh.”

Her voice oozed a playfulness that edged towards teasing. 

“But there is no universe where you and I talk about this.”

“I was just making an astute observation.”

“I would appreciate it if you maybe observe somewhere else. We have eleven more hours of this shift to go and I’d rather not have to spend it talking about her.”

“Yeah, because you’re allergic to talking in general.”

“Well, that’s just not true. I’m allergic to people I don’t want to have a conversation with,” he pointed out.

She tried to shake the smile off her lips. Her palm lightly smacked at his shoulder which caused his smile to rise in response. 

“You’re such a smart ass.”

“I try my very best,” he mumbled as he leaned down towards the computer. 

He’d just grabbed his badge to swipe past the electronic monitor to unlock the computer, placing his arms to brace on either side of the keyboard when he felt her presence eclipse to his right. Dana was leaning over the counter divider. Her arms hanging over waiting for him to look back up at her. 

“Something else I can help you with, Dana?”

“Just wondering if you’d be more talkative if you knew Fullerton was all smiles earlier. She had her phone out. Seemed to be textin’ someone.”

Robby could feel his eyes narrow in on her position. He shouldn’t care - he shouldn’t fucking care - because you were the one who left. What did he care if you were dating anybody? It’s been two years. The chances of you dating were astronomically high; shit, he’d attempted it a while after you left. Instead of taking care of himself because, “You look like shit,”, as Dana lovingly told him, he’d done what 95% of the population does: he ran from it. 

Heather Collins was an R2 at the time. She was funny, intelligent, witty, beautiful, and he’d fucked it up in record time. All the things you’d thrown at him about being shit at taking his own advice, hiding from his problems, were true. When things took a turn he’d lock up. Collins noticed the cracks and mentioned them enough he countered with argument after argument. The worst part was he was harboring a love for someone else that was gone. You can’t love someone else, give them the love they deserve, when you’re buried ten feet deep for someone else. She deserved better than to be a rebound - better than what Robby could’ve given her because no matter how amazing she was he still thought of you. Heather deserved more than to be a body to bury his sorrows in. He tried dating again a year later but that had also gone up in spectacular flames. Robby couldn’t keep the ghost of you from haunting him.

He tried to act like he didn’t care - that Dana’s words weren’t threatening his last proper brain cell for the day. By the look on Dana’s face, he did a shit job of hiding it. So what if you were with someone? He shouldn’t even care. 

“Did she say who she was talking to?”

Why the fuck did he ask that? Dana didn’t necessarily answer him as much as she chose instead to grin. A silent, ‘Gotcha’ flashing that he absolutely hated. He’d walked right into it. 

“Surprise, surprise. I thought she’d be one of your allergies.” 

A huff of laughter rushed past his lips that he tried to cover up with a cough. 

“You’ve got a mean streak in you.”

Dana patted his arm before she retracted back inside her bubble. The phone went off in record time to pull her safely away from having to hear him complain. She gave him one last thumbs up before her back faced him, completely ending the conversation and forcing him back to the open file on the screen. 

He enjoyed the quiet for all of a millisecond before he heard - 

“Hey, fruitcake.”

God, take him now. Robby chose to ignore her. Ignore her like every other time - 

“Hey, I’m talking to you, fruitcake.”

“Myrna,” he bit out. “I told you a hundred times my name is Dr. Robby.”

He expected her to argue about nicknames and their usage. It’s usually what happens when he advises her that maybe she’d get better treatment if she’d use real names. That isn’t what he got. 

“Do you wanna see my vagina?”

Robby’s eyebrows ran towards his hairline as he replied, “I've already seen it. And once was enough, thank you.” 

“And what about mine?”

Robby knew that voice. He’d know it in any lifetime, through space and time; Robby would know your fucking voice anywhere. He turned to his left and there you were with your elbows and back resting against the counter. You’d leaned close enough so that your words were for him and him alone. 

Robby wanted to humor himself that it had to be his imagination. The flash of something dark, ravenous, and achingly familiar he saw in your eyes must have been his subconscious going haywire. It wasn’t until he watched recognition dawn of what you said, the way you’d fucking said it, crest over your face that Robby knew he hadn’t made it up. 

The heat of embarrassment had you straightening up beside him. He could see it in the light tinging of your cheeks, the anxious beat your fingers rapped on the counter. You weren’t looking at him now but he wished you would. 

And then the memory of Dana saying you’d been caught smiling at your phone reared its evil head. 

Mine. 

He couldn’t keep the word from forming in his head. You’d been his for so long and those words of yours meant to tease and force him to give you a response. Robby wanted to tell you that no, once wasn’t enough. It was never enough. 

Mine. 

The last few months of your relationship had ended in flames but the rest. What about the rest of the many years you’d spent together? They’d been spectacular. The best memories he had you were a part of. The attempts at gardening and doctoring up sick animals. The way you’d dance to his records as you danced through every room while you dusted. The sounds of yours and Jake’s laughter mixing from the kitchen table going over homework. 

He could remember the way your hands fisted the sheets as his hands hooked under your thighs to bring you closer to his greedy mouth. Your slick drenching his face, his beard, stubble - whatever phase he was in with or without facial hair. Robby loved it when you began to let go; body melting in his hands as your fingers wound themselves tightly in his hair to pull him closer, deeper. Robby could get drunk off your taste, the soft keening breaths that came ragged and shaking from your chest. How your body trembled as he worked each finger inside you until your back arched beautifully off the bed. 

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine….

He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t fucking care, but he fucking did. 

“What can I do for you, Dr. Fullerton?”

Robby grabbed the PPE gown from beside the table before he went to his full height. From this advantage, he could faintly make out the dying hint of a flush on your cheeks. 

“I was talking here first, Sugar tits.”

You pivoted to glance around him and waved at Myrna who waved back with her middle finger. 

“Myrna, always a pleasure. I think that’s my third finger wave today,” you muttered the last part to him. 

“Dr. Fullerton.”

“Right, right. I wanted to see if I could borrow one of your med students. Central 3 and 4 have two patients, males twenty-three and twenty- four in age. Both were at the same BBQ and believed dumping liter fluid on a fire was a good idea.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah, they look like human marshmallows right now. One has second-degree burns while central 4 has, what I believe, might be second degrading into three.”

“Do you need me to come take a look?”

It felt like a reasonable question. He was attending and usually, all consultations like this went through him for an opinion. He’d just done it with her half an hour ago. It shouldn’t be a big deal - 

“Oh, no, no. Thanks but I think I got this.”

“Oook. If you got it, why do you need a med student?”

“I figure it would be a good teaching moment for one of them on treatments of burns and how to assess the level. I’ve already called surgery for a consultation on central 4. Plus, there’s no available nurse to help me attend to both.”

Robby tried to keep the scoff from coming out. He shook his head and went to move around you, shooting Myrna an irritated glance that hopefully she caught as his nonverbal way of telling her he didn’t want to see her the rest of the day. 

“So, you are saying you need help, you just don’t want my help.”

God, he sounded like a petulant child. By the look on your face, you’d agree with that statement. 

“Robby, I know you’re busy - “

“I’m not busy,” he cut in. 

“Robby, the parents of the OD teen are here.”

Dana came from behind the station, her eyes glancing between the two of you. 

“Okay, park them in Trauma 1. He’s not back from CT yet. I’ll be there in a minute. You can borrow Whitaker,” he directed at you.  

He had to move. There was still the floating face patient in trauma 2. He needed to find out if they’d been able to prep for a safe intubation and if not, they were doing a solid alternative. Langdon was there with both interns. Robby could trust him. He should’ve been more worried about himself because as he passed by you on his way to trauma 2, he felt his body dip towards you. The jealousy rushed up like a lance piercing his heart as he remembered Dana’s words. The idea that you’d moved on, that someone else had taken his place, threatened to remove whatever sensible bit of himself he had left. 

“And don’t pull your phone out on the floor. It’s unprofessional, and I won’t have it in my department. You can step outside like everyone else.”

You didn’t look at him as he spoke. You didn’t even snap at him or give him any hint you’d heard him. Robby knew you’d heard him, but your eyes were solely focused behind him. It was the spot he’d just been standing - the spot Dana now occupied. 

There should’ve been some satisfaction in watching Dana’s face crumble like this. All the earlier anger dissipated back into a playful, if not biting, rhetoric that gave you some hope the day wouldn’t be your version of Dante’s Inferno. 

But Robby’s comment…

Only one person saw you on the phone earlier. One person who’d asked about who you’d been talking to while you’d read Jake’s texts. You’d been so ready to shout at Robby that it was Jake, his son. It might have given you some retribution but why should you have to explain anything to him? He was acting like a jealous significant other, not a damn boss. The way he’d pressed himself against you earlier; touching you as if half-possessed. 

You weren’t helping, were you? The minute the words had leapt from your mouth you’d wished you could take them back. You shouldn’t have said it and yet, you did. You fucking did and now the wanton look he’d given you was forever etched into your brain. 

You were an idiot. 

An even bigger idiot for thinking Dana would’ve left anything between you. 

“You just couldn’t help yourself. Could you?”

“Kid - “

Dana took a step forward ready to explain. You didn’t have it in you to listen. When the phone went off in her hand you found your way out and took it. 

“Do you know where I can find Whitaker?”

“He had a patient around the North-East hallway.”

“Thanks.”

You heard her call your name. Not Fullerton, not kid. Dana said your name and for the first time today, you wished she’d stuck to calling you an asshole. 

You followed Dana’s instructions and moved toward the hallways. You weren’t sure how long you’d be searching for him, but luckily it wasn’t long. On the opposite side of the hall, you watched him wheel a patient out of 17 North and into the halls. Whatever the patient said stopped Whitaker in his tracks - both grateful and surprised all at once. You waited a few minutes longer for him to enjoy a good moment with his patient (because sometimes it didn’t always go like that) before you made your way around to get to him. 

“Whitaker!”

“Uhm, oh yes. Hi, Dr. Fullerton.”

“I have a couple of burn patients in Central 3 and 4; second to third degree. Dr. Robby said you’d be able to assist if that’s alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I would. That’d be awesome. Thank you.”

He was so earnest it was endearing. “You’re welcome. Now, let’s go remove some dead tissue.” 

You took the lead in showing Whitaker to the rooms. You were trying to make polite conversation. It only seemed fair to take a small interest in what motivated a young doctor to get into the field of medicine, of saving lives. Basic questions such as those were able to tell you a lot about who someone was and if they held enough compassion to be around people during their most vulnerable times. 

You did try your best to keep your attention trained on the work. It was your turn to be a teacher, and you wanted to do it well. You didn’t have an excuse why you looked toward Trauma 1. No excuse at all why you watched Robby speak to the kids' parents looking defeated before they’d even begun. There was even less of an excuse for when Robby looked away from them, his eyes searching until he found yours, that should’ve made you want to forget these last two years. You hated the old impulse to run to him - to care for him. The last time you’d seen Robby looking desperately close to combusting like this it’d been a few doors down standing outside pediatrics. 

Looking at him now, Robby seemed ready to quit, and it wasn’t even close to 8:30. 

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As always, thank you all so much for reading!! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

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Tag list: @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange

[iamthetruenhaz]

I've never understood compliments about appearance. I and most other guys I know wouldn't care about a compliment someone made on their appearance because we don't put much effort in that. And I don't see why I should. I don't want to look like a peacock, I want to look presentable at best, and sometimes I just don't want to look indecent because I feel like shit and I want no one to perceive me at all.

But guys do appreciate compliments on things they do put effort in. That's rarely clothing or appearance because we're taught that putting effort in that is vain and hollow and yes, "unmanly". So instead guys pride themselves on accomplishments and/or status symbols, or tools that mean they put effort into something. I don't care much about "nice shirt" (it usually isn't), but "nice camera" does put a smile on my face. Because I put a lot of effort in my hobbyist photography and when someone appreciates that, that makes me happy. Now, if I HAVE pit effort into my appearance, I'd appreciate a compliment about that too. But honestly, I usually don't. Life's too short.

It does suck though that appearance (and by that I mean clothes and hairstyle) is by far the thing that makes you stand out the most and get positive attention and we're socialized not to care about that. It sucks that we're at least somewhat dependent on that attention and approval and otherwise we're just the grey invisible guy.

I just know that the dudes who make those "girls get 500 compliments a day vs. guy gets one compliment once and cherishes it for the rest of his life" memes put zero effort into their appearance. Like what exactly do you expect people to say? Wow nice plain ill-fitting hoodie, goes great with your basic-ass blue jeans and nondescript haircut. Got some real cool Grey Man vibes going on, you could seamlessly blend into any crowd ever without being seen at all.

Like nobody has any obligation to look any certain way, but you can't expect to be praised for doing something you're not even trying to do. I dress like I got tarred and feathered in a Tim Burton film costume department discard scrap pile, and someone saying they like my style is a biweekly occurrence.

[tojisteddy]

Daddy issues | “and if you were my little girl, I’d do whatever I could do…”

cw: 18+ MDNI, 4.1k words (omfg), smut with plot, meanie!simon (he’s a crazy, asshole), Daddy kink out the fuckin wazoo, daddy issues (obvi), dd/lg dynamics, mentions of abuse, sexualization of ‘pa, kiddo’ (truly a case of if you hate it just scroll), oral (f receiving), dacryphilia, creampie, full nelson, age gap (reader mid-late 20s, Simon early-mid 30s), no use of y/n (I use [+]).

a/n: obviously influenced by daddy issues by the neighborhood (I know it’s not about this at all, take it up with god), also by take you down by sza :3

You weren’t used to being this needy in your entire life.

You swore you didn’t need anyone, let alone Ghost Riley. You’d been repetitively normal in all your past relationships.

But he’d run through your mind like the Flash going back in time— the older man ruined some of the circuits in your brain.

You’d two gotten into an argument, shocker, but this time over how you were acting. The usually chilled out girl who Ghost would call when he wanted to see his little kitten purr, was now desperate for every little bit of his attention. The blonde despised every bit of it.

“You’re bein fuckin greedy.” He told you, walking away from where you stood after you told you’d wanted to stay over again for another week. Of course, you easily followed right behind, attempting to match his long stride. You never could.

“By wanting to be with you? Aren’t boyfriends supposed to want to see their girlfriends? Supposed to spend time together? There are probably a million girls and guys with sweet boyfriends—“

“—Do I look like one of those buddy buddy, pretty boys you like to fuck to you, [+]?” He turned on his heal, luckily you didn’t crash into his chest like you usually did. His voice was ice cold, “Answer me.”

“No sir.” You mumbled, the air was thick, tightly wrapping around your vocal cords.

“Then why the hell are you bein so damn needy? I told you, I won’t give you all my attention. I’ve got my own shit to take care of and you want me to, what? Hold you on my fuckin hip like a baby?” Well, hey— “Stop bein a damn brat and get the fuck out my face.”

“ ‘M not askin you to take care of me Si, but, I just want-“

“—Cut the shit [+]. You’re pissin me off, why can’t you just fuckin listen? I hate the clingy, desperate shit, get it out of your damn head and get it out of my fuckin house.” He stormed off into one of the bedrooms with a slam of the door.

Simon never had to tell you when he was kicking you out. You’d always go on your own.

He swore if he saw you and you were still stuck on the idea that you had to cling to him, he was gonna rip you a new one.

Did you take him serious?

On a good day, never.

You’d be stuck thinking about how good he looked, blonde hair a mess, veins popping out his neck and his arms, large muscles flexing, face screwed up towards you— you’d lick up all the poison he’d spewed to you over and over. It’s funny, at times like that you’d just wanted to know, if he’d fuck all his anger into you? Maybe you’d cum so many times just from finger fucking you, you’d be a babbling mess, begging for more—

Delusional.

Maybe when he was actually angry with you, not when Ghost was aggravated to the point he didnt want to physically see you.

And at the absolute worst of times, you’d trusted his words. You stayed away for a couple weeks just as you were told because you so desperately wanted to be told how good you were when you got that call. How you weren’t a needy bitch, but the prettiest & smartest girl he’d ever been with.

And of course you could’ve heard those simple words from anyone in a ten mile radius, ask your online followers for a few complements and you would’ve gotten them like clockwork. But you needed to hear it from that meanie.

Did you have a praise kink? Perhaps.

Did you need men’s approval to live? God forbid.

You just wanted Ghosts approval. His rough hands from those long days of being in action to touch your body, the playful head pats you swore you hated it cause it messed up your hair, a good smack to the ass as praise when he instructed you on how to change a car tire, fat fingers trailing your back as you sat in his lap, reading those books you loved a loud. Gruff voice praising after you had such an amazing day at work— as if you’d been the one to align everything so it could all work in your favor. ‘Good job doll, you’re doin well for yourself.”

Those underlying daddy issues would tear themselves out of you— like some junkie, you craved to hear his praises, feel it on your skin. It tingled the ivory inside you like a piano.

You tried taking your mind off it, throwing yourself into work, hanging out with your friends, doing a stream or two just to see if anyone showed up, get your mind straight so you wouldn’t be so dependent.

But giving a stray attention then yanking it away would be plain rude.

Your brain was in turmoil, front of your brain started to thunk, thunk, thunk from how much you were over thinking. To top it off, your father had called you just as you’d gotten done having lunch with some friends.

It’d be a long fucking night.

“No, I'm not moving back to the US just so I can be married off to someone stranger. Are you crazy?” You practically shrieked once you’d heard your stupid father on the other side of the call. No ‘hello,’ ‘how are you?’ ‘It’s been a while’ just straight bullshit.

Something about an arranged marriage with the son of a businessman he was trying to partner with. You wanted to punch him square in his jaw— ooooh calm down. You were okay. It’s perfectly fine.

“It’s for the betterment of your future, [+]. Why am I the only one who cares about that? You can’t go playing around with dogs all day—“

“I have serious clients dad, famous ones. Rich one’s. I’m not grooming dogs for nothing, even talked about opening my own place.” You tried. It was your dream, something not even your boss knew about. But Simon knew, in fact, he was the one who pushed you the most about really chasing after what you wanted. He had the most faith in you, and you yearned to hear him reassure you right now. Even if it was just him saying, ‘dont let those cunts get in your head, you’re my smart girl, aren’t ya? You know best.’

You would’ve killed to hear that right now.

Your father chastised, “A little grooming license isn’t a bachelors degree, is it?”

Oh. You blinked. He always had to take it there when he couldn’t get his way, because everything needed to go your father’s way or no one could be happy. You wiped your hand over your face in frustration, huffing as you continued on to your apartment, tuning out whatever the man was saying with ‘mmhm’.

Like a knight in shining armor but the opposing enemy, there the skull mask wearing man sat in his big black truck right in front of your apartment building. Simon didn’t even have to say anything when he caught your brown eyes, just motioned his head. ‘Come.’

Did he have to tell you twice?

You climbed in the car, heart pounding, not even listening to the words that were coming from the other side of the line because someone ten times more important had showed up.

“Where’ve you been?” He’d filled the cars silence in a hushed tone. Just enough so you could hear but your father couldn’t.

You fumbled around with your purse, looking at anything you could but the man beside you, “…You told me not to come over.”

“And you actually listened?” Simon griminced, eyebrow raised at you as he continued to drive.

Because usually, you’d show up even if you were the one who was mad. Ignoring him like he did you, even if you two were in the same space but you were still together. He’d still pull you in his arms, rubbing his head in the crevice of your neck because you were so damn cute with those eyebrows furrowed and pout.

“I didn’t wanna make you more upset this time.” You wanted to hide yourself but that truck left no room for it.

Well that didn’t work, did it? It just made him more annoyed. To the point Price had to tell him to ease up on the lower ranked soldiers during training. Even if he did push you away, you were a boomerang, always finding your way back to the older brute— a constant. You were a stray cat that would brush into Simon each time he gave you a little attention, a little food, a little love. And he liked it, his cute little thing that would ease his mind from everything even if you were a little annoying. Something to care for.

Like, a puppy? A kitten? No, more. Girlfriend? Of course. A step down to hell. His baby girl. His baby—

Before Simon could get another word out, the rambling from your phone the both of you were ignoring turned into yelling. His hand gripped the wheel with a scuff. Simon hated your father to say the very least, an annoying, prude that man was. He had a nasty habit of calling you and spewing utter bullshit in your ear, critiquing every little one of your life choices even though he didn’t raise you, didn’t pay for anything— he was just another entitled sperm donor. Simon had to tell you to hang up different times because he couldn’t stand someone talking to you like that.

It took Simon back to his own father, that abusive, psychopathic prick. Didn’t know what the hell he was doing with him and his younger brother, fucker always was on ballistic shit. Throwing things against the wall, putting his hands on anyone in that God forsaken house that breathed wrong, drinking non stop and the goddamn yelling. He didn’t want that for you— didn’t want to end up like that bastard. Simon cared about you too much, he wouldn’t let that happen. So in his fucked up way of caring, he’d push you away. Saying anything that came to mind, only meaning 61% what he actually said.

But that proved to be a new dead end.

Which led to a new resolution: he’d fix whatever issue went on in his head and keep you if it meant not having to see you very clearly, shut yourself down to cope or having to hear your annoying father talking down on you like an imbecile.

Ghost’s own head was reeling— he would never let anyone talk to you like you were an idiot. Couldn’t even imagine it. Yes, you were a little agitating, a little fucking dumb— but that was fixable. Nothing Daddy couldn’t fix. And if you trip and fall on your mistakes, the older man was right there to catch you. He’d refix your problems a thousand times over if he had to, why? Because he adored you to pieces.

But you weren’t an idiot, you can’t fix inherent incompetence.

His princess wasn’t incompetent.

That’s why every fuckin time you were on the phone with your father, which was already rare, he wanted to shove his booted foot right the man’s ass. Sew his asshole shut and keep feeding him, and feeding him, and feeding him. Water board the guy and show everyone how he was the fuckin embarrassment and not his sweet precious daughter—

Simon would try to hold whatever anger was festering this time because you, for your mothers sake, were trying to fix the relationship you didn’t break.

He was off the rocker, yes, but he’d get the shit together. Quick. Somehow. For you.

Be good, good, be good, be good—

“—And I bet you’re still fucking around with that ass aren’t you, [+]? You can be such a fucking idiot, it’s time to grow the hell up-“

You weren’t a fucking idiot. Never. If Simon didn’t call you that, what made anyone think they had the right to?

He didn’t hesitate to snatch the phone out of your hands, “—Are you out of your fuckin mind!?”

His voice boomed, filling the car, not even your father was talking anymore. The only sound that could be heard was the engine and the tires rolling on the pavement.

“Ya don’t say shit to your own kid for a decade but now you think you can run her life because you got some money in your pocket? Money you haven’t even spent a single pound on her—“ there was a quick muffled noise from the other side of the phone but Ghost was faster, “I’m disrespectful!? I wish I gave a shit about what you think of me or what I’m doin with your fuckin daughter. She’s with me for good reason.”

“—The next time you call you’d better have one foot in the grave or I’m gonna find you and make sure you do my fuckin self.” The blonde pressed the red button on the screen, a few more taps to block the man who, the blonde man had decided, wouldn’t be in your life.

After putting your phone in your lap, his hand immediately went to the back of your neck and letting out a deep breath, rubbing the baby hairs with his thumb. Soothing you. You saw Simon mouth move but you didn’t hear what came out of it. It was like your ears were shot just for a second, your heart beating loudly, you had wrapped yourself in a daze whenever you’d talk to your father and this had to be the first time someone not only yanked you out of it, but fully and undoubtedly protected you.

“Kid.” he barked, more profound.

Your big brown eyes snapped over to him, your brain finally catching up to what was happening in the moment.

“You’re okay, ‘s okay. I’ve got you, gonna take care ‘f you. Promise. You want that? Want me to take care of you, hm baby?” His voice was so soft, inviting, pulling you into whatever he’d had set for you in his mind.

How could you say no, when all you ever wanted was to be Simons?

“Yes sir.”

Famous last words.

Like you’d ignited a flame, his brown eyes flickered with mischief.

Ghost, the usual menace, rough man was being cloying with you.

Leaving gentle kisses all over as he made his was down to the heat in the middle of your legs. Big hands roaming the rest of your body as he slid your black, wet, underwear off, throwing your legs over his shoulders and giving a nice smooch to your cunt.

“So fuckin pretty baby, ‘s all for me?” His tongue slide up and down your vulva.

“Y-Yeah,” you said breathlessly, eyes fluttering shut as Ghost lapped up every juice that was coming out of you.

The older man scuffed, slipping a finger inside your tight walls and slowly thrusting them. “ ‘yeah’? That’s all you gotta say? Don’t be stubborn with me doll, wanna be nice to you today.”

You felt a pinch to your thigh, a warning, “keep those pretty eyes on me swee’art, need you focused on me.”

Your head tilted itself to the side, nodding your head and biting your lip to contain your moan but it’s barely doing anything as you watch Simon slip another fat finger into you, pumping his fingers faster and finally going up to your clit, taking a little nibble of it and then talking it in his mouth.

“Fu- mmm- fuuuck- wait- Si- I- can I cum? Please? Can I?” You whimpered, peeking down at the brown eyes that were stuck on you. Ghost was smirking, almost enough to get a laugh out of him.

“Course baby, bein so good. Can cum as much as you want today.” His fingers curled just right at the perfect spot inside you and your walls flutter around his fingers. But he’s not stopping, course he’s not, the man has to get a good taste of you, get you cumming with his fingers, without his fingers, without sucking your clit— he sucking out every drop that leaves your cunt.

Ghost was taking his sweet time, as if you didn’t need him inside you desperately. You were aching for more after cumming a fourth time, bucking your hips only for Ghost to press down on them to keep you still.

He pulled his mouth away from you, face covered in your slick, “Jesus baby, cut it out, will you? Thought you wanted Daddy to take care of you?”

“D-do, I do. It’s just- just-“

“Don’t tell me you’re not used to it.” His ends of his lips turned up into a smirk, teasing, fingers rubbing your clit just enough to keep you wanting more yet slow enough to keep your attention only on him.

No. No you weren’t. He’d known that.

Simon usually manhandled you every which way and any position he wanted you in. Edging you as much as he wanted then giving it to you deep and leaving you breathless at every moment. And it’s not like you hated it, you loved every second of it. But this- this situation made your brain melt.

The older man just looooved that.

“Give me another, let me feel it.” His hands went to grope your tits, squeezing and pulling at them as he rubbed his face further into your pussy, completely devouring you whole. The blonde slid his long tongue back inside your hole, thrusting it just right. The man groaned as you pulsed around him, somehow getting sweeter as you fell apart.

He kept touching all over you, the curve your breasts, the peak of your nipples, the dips in your hips and thighs— ever so softly. As if he was revisiting a map he’d known like the back of his hand, making sure he knew every nook and cranny of you, the cause of every twitch, shake, and moan, the reason slick kept flowing down onto his tongue.

Why?

Well a good Daddy just had to know his baby well, shouldn’t he?

You should’ve known, there was no way Simon would ever be nice and go easy on you the whole time he was fucking you. But you were being silly, fantasizing about him slipping inside you and being gentle.

Your mistake for thinking a man so large in size, so brutal with words, with the biggest and fattest dick you’ve ever seen in your life would ever treat your poor pussy kindly :(. You always looked so perfect when he had you crying, so easy to bully, Ghost just couldn’t help himself.

“Si- Simon!” You yelped out, as he finally bottomed out inside your pink walls that were gonna chop his manhood off. He’d had you stuck in an inescapable full nelson, legs spread wide open and beefy arms hooked under knees, forcing your head down to look at the disappearing act of the century happening with his cock and your cunt.

“Look at the fuckin mess you’re makin kiddo, gonna get my thighs wet at this rate.” Ghost was plopping you up and down, up and down on his length, the loud sloshing sound of your sopping wet pussy filling the room.

“No- Si- aangh- it’s too much!” And it’s not like you could even push any of him away, as he thrusted up into you, making sure you took every single inch imaginable.

“Such a fuckin liar baby. What a fuckin liar you are, ‘nd you don’t think I’ve fuckin noticed that you won’t call me how you’re supposed to? Huh? Didn’t teach you to lie like that, did I?”

You’d internally cursed, slapping at his hand for some relief but your mouth only letting out moans. Yes, you were avoiding calling him ‘daddy,’ even though you’d call him that casually, it felt so off today after your falling out with your father. It made your head spin, because it wasn’t just a nickname anymore.

You were craving the missing hole you’ve been ignoring this whole time, to be filled with the man fucking you like a slut in his big arms.

“Told you I’d take care of ya, didn’t I princess? Promised you I’d be reaalll good to ya but— shit, your squeezing the life outta me— can’t be nice if you don’t treat your own daddy proper, can I?” You moaned at his words, shaking your head because this man was gonna make you go insane, tonight. Pushing you past the point of no return, and no, he wouldn’t let go of your hand while he’d did it.

He’d hold your hand and jump with you.

“Come on, call me how you’re ‘posed to kid.” He grunted in you ear, sucking on your earlobe, “Call the only man you’ll ever need, the man who’s fuckin your pretty pussy right, know you want to. Come on.”

He was egging on that delusion that sat, triple boxed up and in the farthest corner of your mind of your mind. Teasing, taunting you, probing at the thought that you swore you locked away that one time it slipped out of you mid conversation months ago.

But Simon remembered. In fact, he’d just needed the ‘okay’ from your plump lips because he longed to hear you call him that oh so sweet yet oh so sinful name once more. He wanted to be your number one. The man you relied on, someone that would never leave you like your father did. Better than your father, better than any one of those little boys you’d fool around with in the past. Damn it, and it was making you wetter.

“Paaa! You feel so good pa!” You mewled, throwing your head back on his shoulder in pleasure.

You felt that maniacal grin form on Ghosts lips on your shoulder, leaving a kiss on your neck— he was proud of you. It tickled something in his brain, scratched the exact spot where his own daddy issues lay. He wasn’t new to hearing a sex partner call him daddy during sex, maybe he exuded that energy— it was in his blood, Ghost didn’t know. But you just kept pushing the line, accidentally calling him that magic word when he’d praise you. And it stuck. You’d call him daddy like it was second nature. Looking up at him with those pretty brown eyes, obediently listening to whatever he had to say. That’s what all the fucking clingy shit was about, the needy, desperation of it all.

Wanting a father figure from a hell raiser— it was arranged. You were a good girl. Ghosts good little girl.

“Therrre you go princess, atta girl! Doin so good for me, cum on your daddy’s dick. Show me how good you are baby, milk me dry.”

You shook your head, belligerent sobs escaping you. You couldn’t believe you’d just call him that, of all things. And you tried to retract it, whining your way through your orgasm that left you trembling, Simon himself filling your tight cunt with every bit cum that sat in his balls.

“I- I- hicc- I didn’t mean to call you- hicc- I’m sorry.” You blabbered out, how sweet. How cute, you were trying to collect yourself. He pulled out of you with a roll of his eyes, flipping you onto your stomach, rubbing the tip against your hole that was leaking with the both of your cum. What a miraculous sight.

“No, baby you did. Don’t worry that pretty little head,” he cooed, slipping his dick back inside you, groaning at the feel of you. “pa’s got you.”

“Come on doll, wanna hear you,” He rocked his hips into you, the room filling with the smack, smack, smack, smacking of his balls hitting your wet pussy, ripples forming on your ass with every thrust.

Your brain was turning to mush, drool forming and dripping down the sheets of the bed. The only thing you were able to think of was daddy, daddy, daddy, pa, pa, pa. How good your pa was drilling into you like a maniac.

Simon’s hand wrapped around your curly hair, dragging you up to your knees as he continued to ram into you, “This allll my sweet little girl needed? Your pa to take care of you like a good daddy should. Fuck, that bastard couldn’t treat you right could he? Show you how a man’s supposed to treat you, huh?”

“Noooo sir- nghhh.” you keened, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Tha’s right princess, don’t worry though— I love you. Your pa loves you soooo. fuckin. much baby. No one’s gonna love you more than me.”

Those words alone is what set off your next orgasm, he was talking crazy, actually. And you loved every second of it, back arching even more so as you pulsated around his throbbing cock. He was still thrusting into you chasing his own orgasm, a string of curses leaving his mouth as you felt the tip of him spasm. He made you so full of him, you’d felt so warm all over.

“Shit, such a good girl for me, gonna take such good care of you from now. What do ya say?” He took you in his arms, laying you on top of him. You could feel his heart beating, chest heaving. Both of your skin sticky with sweat.

“Thank you pa.” You wrapped your arms him.

“Oh princess,” Ghost smiled, pressing his lips against yours, cupping your face with one hand and caressing it with his thumb, “you’re so welcome.”

a/n: it’s three people who are gonna read all this, me being one of them. If you liked it leave me a message or comment. If you hated it, idk. I’m just a big dadbf!simon enthusiast.

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[delilahsturniolo]

— ୨୧ sports car . . . m.s

in which . . . you couldn’t wait until you and matt got home

warnings . . . smut, fingering in a moving car, teasing, use of pet names, dirty talk, degradation, cursing, dom!matt, public sex? (sorta)

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

SO CLOSE TO WHAT WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #7

matt gripped the steering wheel tightly, the car ride was silent. the moon was bright lit in the night sky. you sighed heavily, your gaze focused outside to car window. you and matt were driving home from a restaurant, the both of you had a nice, casual dinner to end off the night.

you turned your head, looking over at matt as his eyes were focused on the road. fuck, he looked so good right now. his slightly disheveled brown hair that fell over his forehead effortlessly, his perfectly placed rings on his fingers, the way he held the steering wheel, it honestly made you as aroused as ever. you wanted to say something, you wanted to tell matt how much you absolutely needed him in this moment, it was eating you up inside. you could feel your absolutely soaked panties beneath your skirt, shit. you crossed your legs, trying to be discreet about your neediness.

matt noticed this, how uneasy you seemed to look. he turned his head to take a quick glance at you, raising his eyebrows at you before looking at the road again. “you okay?” he asked, you slightly adjusted your posture, letting out a small “mhm” at his question. “no you’re not.” matt scoffed, looking at you again. “what’s wrong?” matt asked once more, his tone more concerned this time. fuck, you knew you couldn’t get out of this, not even by lying.

“matt—i need you..” you blurted out, matt smirked slightly. “yeah? and why can’t you be patient and wait till’ we get home?” matt teased, knowing damn well how horny you were in this moment. it was torture, he always teased you a little extra when you got like this. “matt! i can’t wait…i need you now..” you begged, rubbing your legs together slightly.

“i’m driving, sweetheart.” matt hummed lowly, it was like he was barely even paying attention to you at all. “so?” you scoffed, you didn’t care one bit, you needed his touch, some sort of satisfaction. matt smirked, placing his hand on your inner thigh, lifting your skirt slightly, his touch tender but teasing. you could feel the metal of his rings against your bare skin.

matt stopped the car at a red light, which reflected on both of your faces. “needy girl, huh? so fuckin’ impatient.” matt rolled his eyes, his thumb hooking around the waistband on your underwear and slowly sliding it off of you with ease, all you could do was whimper in response to his words and his touch.

“spread your legs f’me.” matt spoke, his voice laced with lust and dominance. you didn’t hesitate to obey his commands, spreading your knees apart and revealing your soaking wet cunt. matt groaned at the sight, teasing your wet folds with his fingers. you gasped, arching your back against the car seat.

the light turned green, matt accelerated the car. “fucking take it, you asked for this.” matt’s fingers pushed into you, you let out a breathless moan, your hand wrapping around his wrist as his fingers collected your slick, thrusting in and out of you mercilessly.

matt didn’t bat you an eye as he touched you, his fingers working on your swollen clit, he made sure you felt everything. “fuuckk, so…so wet..” matt groaned, he focused on the road, it was hard for him to do so, though. he listened to your desperate moans and whimpers, feeling himself getting hard just by hearing you, and feeling your pussy clench around him.

“gonna—gonna cum..” you moaned, throwing your head back against the headrest of the passenger seat as your orgasm came crashing over you, your legs shaking harshly as you came all over matt’s fingers. matt pulled his fingers away from you, sucking them clean as he continued to drive.

“mmm, we ain’t done sweetheart, just wait till we get home.”

© delilahsturniolo do not copy, re use, or modify any of my works.

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a/n 💌: i’m sorryyy this is so late, i have a high fever rn so i had to force myself to lock in and write this, so if it seems rushed, that’s because it was 😭😭

[cherrxboy]

I had this idea and I HAD to write it because I know my bitchass would NOT write it any other time (it's 5 in the morning and I haven't slept)

CW: explicit smut, I think - GN!reader - Mean!Satoru - uhhh rough seggs - Toru being an asshole - eating out/bj/whatever (reader receiving) - overstimulation I believe - a bit (probably a lot) of degrading/humiliation and stuff... he calls you a slut like two times - pet names used: baby, sweets, love - he refers to himself as "daddy" once but there's nothing else about that - mentions of death but like he's just joking - aftercare. (Not proofread) tell me if I missed anything!

English is my second language and I'm sleep deprived auauughh this is probably shit but I hope you enjoy hehe cause I personally love mean!Satoru he makes me go tehehehhehwojspsjpsj. Sorry if there are any typos ;((

♡

We've all read the fics, we've all seen the man, we've watched the show and I can't get this image outta my head, this little broken tape going off in my brain that Satoru is one of the biggest meanies when y'all are going at it. Doesn't matter what you are, what's in your pants, if you're giving or taking– he's mean.

Satoru is the type of guy that would keep you spread for him while he goes down on you, not caring if your thighs start to cramp or your legs feel sore. At some point it's not even about your pleasure anymore. He just wants to see how far he can push you, what new faces you can make, what little noises he can take out of you and Oh his favorite: how many times can he make you cum with just his mouth in a certain time limit.

He starts going and counts, each and every one of your orgasms, while also keeping track of the time. He's the strongest, he's definitely broken some records and one thing he really loves is breaking his own records. How many times can he make you cum in 15 minutes? How about 10? How about 2?!

"C'mon, love..."

"just one more, yeah? Oh I know, I know it's hurting but I'm almost breaking my last record, isn't that amazing??"

"Puh-leaseee? I'm making you feel good too, aren't I? Don't deny it, babe. I'm pretty sure everyone heard us with how loud you were being."

"No no no, I'm not saying it's baaad. Actually, makes me curious about how many noise complaints we can get in a week–"

Satoru is the type of guy to literally make fun of you while he's rearranging your guts. The type of guy that laughs in your face when you're crying all prettily, telling him that 'oh you can't take it' or how 'it's too big!' He's folding you in half at this point, not even letting you look away, hide your face in the pillows or anything as one of his hands keeps you still for him and the other holds onto your face, cupping you cheeks and squishing them together to make your face all pouty and adorable; you're just drooling and your eyes keep rolling back but Oh you better pay attention to him otherwise he's slowing down until you're begging for him to go faster and harder.

His thrusts suddenly become so weak and lazy and it's just not enough but he doesn't care, doesn't care that it practically hurts him too, he just wants to see you try and beg him to move with that fucked out lil brain of yours.

"Ah- Ah- Ah~! Harder, Toru! Puh-leaseee, faster, daddy!" As he giggles and mimics your voice (very horribly).

"Oh it's too big? But you're taking it so well, love, look at you! Shiiit~ I'm all the way in your tummy, see? Yeahhh well maybe you can't with all those tears but I definitely can."

"Hey, eyes on me, sweets– thereee we go~ Lemme see your pretty face, yeah?"

"What was that? Oh you're gonna cum? Again? That's a bit rude, baby, don't you think? You're being really greedy tonight. But it's okay, you can cum~ I'm feeling generous tonigt."

Satoru is the type of guy to pull on your hair when he's fucking you from behind, just to bring you closer to himself and make your back arch almost uncomfortably, just to whisper dirty ass shits in your ears that he knows would get you off.

He's got you on all fours and his free hand is on your ass, kneading and squeezing the soft flesh as he pounds into you, sometimes giving it a little smack, groaning and moaning deeply against your neck and sometimes whimpering if you give a roll of your own hips as well. He's not shy and doesn't see why some guys hold back their moans... you seem to like it a lot, so he definitely won't stay quiet.

"Fuuuck baby~ you're so tight and so fucking warm– mmm! I'm gonna break you... uh-huh, you're gonna stay here in bed for at least a week, sweets. And I'm gonna take good care of you, yeah? You'd like that, wouldn't you? Staying here, full of my cum as we just cuddle and hide away from the world... I'll give you load after load, baby, as many as you want~"

"Taking my cock so fucking well, like a good little slut– no no no, don't you dare run away, sweets~ fuckkk... I can feel you squeezin' me, baby. You like when I call you that? Like when I treat you like the lil slut you are?"

"Oh fuck– please, give it to me sweets, please! Wanna feel you, baby, wanna feel you tightening up– shiiit.. just like that! I'm gonna fill you up so good~ just a little more, 'k? You can take it... yeah you can, good job~"

Satoru is the type of guy that's mean during sex but Oh so sweet afterwards. Man does not care how many rounds you've all been through or how tired he is... he's giving you a nice warm bath and a massage because he just can't have his sweet partner be in pain, can he?

He talks all that shit about making you unable to walk but god he thinks he'd die if he had to stay in bed with you for a whole day! He loves you, don't get me wrong. He loves spending time with you and just being with you merely in your presence but he's an active person to say the least and he can't just sit still for more than 10 minutes!

So you best believe he's giving you the best aftercare as soon as you guys are done. A glass of water to sooth your throat, soft towels to clean you up with, a nice warm bath along with a massage to make sure you won't be sore by the next few hours and finally he takes you to bed and cuddles you, kissing you all over your face and mumbling little "I love you"s again and again and again.

"You were so good for me today... such an angel. God, I'm so lucky to have you."

"I love you, you know that, right? I love you so much. You're the best thing that happened to me. I love you... did I mention that I love you??"

"If you ever leave me I'm gonna cry myself to death and then haunt you in your dreams and possibly fuck you there if you let me. Sorry, was that too descriptive? I just love you so much, sweets. You can't blame a guy for loving his amazing wonderful perfect sexy partner, can you?"

♡

First post and it's a thirst daaaamn. I'm not making a good first impression y'all I'm sorry 😞☝️

[pinecavity]

You weren’t supposed to care. Not really, anyway. It was just Caleb. Just your silly older “brother,” always teasing, always calling you “Pipsqueak” like it was some title you’d never outgrow. But that stupid image—him leaning against the fence outside your house, hands shoved in his pockets, a girl in front of him all bright-eyed and hopeful—was burned into your mind. You didn’t even stick around long enough to hear him turn her down, didn’t see the way he scratched the back of his head with a grimace and muttered, “Yeah, not really my thing, sorry.”

All you knew was that some girl—some pretty, older high school girl—wanted Caleb.

And that was enough to ruin your entire week.

At first, you tried to brush it off. Tried to pretend like it didn’t matter, like it didn’t make your stomach feel weird and tight. But then the questions started creeping in, relentless and awful.

Did he like her?

Did he think she was pretty too?

How many other girls have asked him out before?

What if he already liked someone?

And before you knew it, you were spiraling.

You got weird. Weird in the way only a teenager with a crush and absolutely no ability to process emotions could be. You started avoiding him, but only in the way that made it really obvious something was wrong—sitting farther away than usual on the couch, suddenly being too busy to hang out, giving clipped, single-word answers whenever he asked about your day.

Caleb noticed. Of course, he noticed. And it drove him insane.

It took exactly three days before he finally had enough. You were hunched over your lunch tray, stabbing a little too aggressively at your meatloaf when a shadow loomed over you, and then suddenly, Caleb was there, plopping down beside you with all the grace of someone who knew he was about to be annoying.

“Alright,” he said, dragging your tray closer to him just to be obnoxious. “What’s your problem?”

You scowled. “Nothing.”

“Oh, definitely something,” he shot back, unbothered. “You’ve been acting like I kicked your puppy all week.”

“I don’t have a puppy.”

“Yeah, well, if you did, you’d be treating me like I ran it over. So,” he propped his chin on his hand, watching you like a puzzle he was determined to solve, “what gives?”

You gritted your teeth. You refused to bring it up. It was stupid. If you said it out loud, it would make it real, and that was the last thing you wanted.

But Caleb? Oh, he was too good at reading you.

He smirked but didn’t let up. Just kept watching you, waiting, until finally—like a switch flipped—his teasing edge softened, just barely.

“…Is this about the girl?”

Your breath hitched.

Caleb noted it. He filed it away, leaned in, too smug, too entertained.

“Oh,” he grinned, slow and obnoxious. “Ohhh, no way—”

“Shut up,” you snapped, already burning.

“No, no, hold on—” he leaned in, eyes alight with pure, unfiltered amusement. “You’re mad about the girl, aren’t you?”

“I said shut up.”

“Holy shit, Pipsqueak, you are.”

He laughed—laughed. And God, you wanted to disappear.

“I turned her down, you know,” he said, still grinning like this was the best thing to ever happen to him.

You blinked. “…What?”

He rolled his eyes, nudging your foot under the table. “Not really my thing.”

And just like that—just from those four words, from the casual way he said it, like it wasn’t a big deal, like it never was—you felt your entire world tilt back into place.

You hated him. You hated how easily he could do this to you, how just one sentence could make all that awful, twisting insecurity vanish.

But at the same time…

God, you loved him, too.

[shikaizer]

"It aint cheating, its a whatchamacallit"

a/n : prequel for my fic HER DEVOTION placed the link if your interested!

paige was your fuck buddy in discreet, due to her profile on being a school counsil, what happens when she finds out your also fucking one of her council member?

warning— prostitution, sending of vulgar, jealousy,choking,slapping, degration. SMUT

the smell of the strong perfume has been lingering around the room, staring at yourself at the lighten vanity, bruises on your neck to your collarbone, lipstick smudged.

you turned your head to look at the black haired girl who is already staring at you. "leaving already?" juju asked sitting herself up.

"yeah, i have class tomorrow." you stood up walking to her showing her your palm.

"the money?" you asked scoffing and she smiled as if she didn't want to.

"oh shit— i thought this was us being all lovey dovey" juju joked, but once she saw the seriousness on your face, she swallowed her saliva and gave you the money.

once your about to put your jacket on, she speaks up again. "how come paige gets this for free?" you scowled looking at her, nervous.

"what are you talking about?" you frowned and crossed your arms and she tilt her head. "she fucks you too right?" you rolled your eyes shaking your head. "stop saying bullshit." you stated and made your way outside her dorm.

the cold air hit your skin making you shiver, your dorm was just a minute walk from this building the current contact was making you crazy.

how the hell does she know? paige wont tell her right? you thought to yourself, but why does it matter? why do you care about paige's profile so much?

In the morning, your currently sitting down with your friends bragging about your new luxury bag. "who did you fuck this time?" your friend sneered at you. "just some hot chick." you answered and they all squeeled.

you kept talking and talking what you bought with the money that you didn't notice paige behind all of you. once your friend pointed it out you turned around and she was with some few councils.

"what?" you tilt your head frowning and she was glaring at you, did she hear the part where you fucked for this luxury? "other students have been complaining on how loud you are. keep the noise minimal." paige stated clear and you rolled your eyes. "are we the only student here?" you scoffed and looked over at your friends who seems a bit intimidated at paige.

"oh please— have you noticed how loud you are? others seems to be." you crossed your arms standing up to show that your not intimidated by her in any way. "fuck them all." you mouthed and she frowned, you eyes shifted to juju whos walking over to the circle, you keep forgetting that juju is also part of the council.

"paige, principal's calling us both." she looked over at paige completely ignoring your existance which made your ego run down. "ignoring me now ju? didn't seem like it last night." paige's eyes widen, shes not sure if she heard it right so she had to look at juju for confirmation.

"what is this slut talking about?" she muttured and you gritted your teeth, paige's face softened as if everything had cleared it based on what juju said. "ignore her." paige said and walked away with juju.

you yelped and slammed your fist on the table sitting back down clearly annoyed and one of your friends spoke up. "wait, dont tell me you fucked JUJU?" they waited for you to respond but the silence you gave them was enough to answer their assumption.

"holy shit!" they laughed not trying to keep the noise minimal at all. "your insanse!" you groaned hiding your face on your palm.

paige and juju on the other side.

"is that true?" paige asked juju while they walked their way on their office, juju raised her eyebrows amused on why she was curious, she have been suspecting the both of you have been fucking, i mean it was honestly obvious since she was always with paige.

"does it matter?" juju answered and paige stayed silent. "why'd you ask?" juju asked and she glared at juju. "your a council, protect your image, you said it yourself, shes a slut." in her tone there was desperation, which juju catched.

"its our secret, you wont drop me right?" juju teased, to her it was clear that paige was bothered, deft not for her image but there was some lingering jealousy in her tone.

"whatever." paige scoffed looking down, finally arriving at their office.

hours of hell have passed, you had finished all your class and paige was nowhere to be found, juju on the other hand invited you to her dorm again but your fucking mad at her, she had been comforting you and was apologizing but you fucked her off.

so now your on your way home, walking. why? because you spent all your money, you should have lowered your pride and accepted her offer on going to her dorm.

you huffed your lucky your dorm is a walking mile from school.

but what you didn't know.

juju: yo bro

juju: wanna see sumn?

paige: what?

juju: this between me nd you twin

paige: damn js hurry

juju: kay jeez

juju: juju sent an attachment

juju: she taking me so damn well bro she loves this dick smuch

paige clenched her phone tight seeing your position ass up while juju was gripping on your hair, the fact that she shouldn't care who ever fucked you bothered her. the way your taking it so good from the back the way you moaned juju's name had paige in daze.

she looked up the ceiling cursing under her breath, but she realized, you had promised her shes the only whos gonna feel you. so?

she messaged you forwarding the lustful video with juju.

paige: what the fuck is this huh?

paige: just because i have been busy?

paige: answer me right now

paige: missed calls 17

paige: im on my way there right now.

your now home, you felt sticky and icky, you wasted no time running to your shower taking a cold bath. once your done, you got out only a towel wrapped around you, wet strands of hair pressing on your skin, you flinched when you saw paige sitting down on the edge of your bed arms crossed.

"paige?" you called out and stood up walking closer to you. "take it off." she muttured and you looked down frowning. "whats wrong with you?" you asked and she clicked her tounge. "did you hear what i fucking said? or should i do it for you?" your breath hitched, you let go of your towel loosening it, they slid on your body with ease and she licked her bottom lip.

she pulled you by your hand bringing her hand to grip on your neck, you winced and she scanned the trail of hickies on your neck.

"your a fucking whore, cant help it huh?" she dragged you to the bed throwing you there. "did she fuck you so good?" you looked up at her and let out a amused laugh. "what are you even talking about?" you frowned and she grinned throwing her phone at you.

the sound of your lewd moans was enough for you to know what it was.

"so what?" you asked ignoring her phone, she got on top of you slapping you but not enough to hurt you, you gasped eyes widen.

she frowned and kissed you deeply, you felt no love in the kiss rather it was so rough but passionate, she cupped your breast pinching your tits, her knees pressing on your clit.

she pulled away looking at you "whats so fucking good with her?" she muttured clenching her jaw and you sighed. "shes— shes not ashamed of me." you spoke up and she frowned.

"is it about that?" she furrowed her eyebrows and rolled her eyes. "you know i'll be fucked if they find out." for a moment her face softened bit kept a firm expression. "and juju wont?" you replied sarcastic in your tone.

paige sighed rolling her eyes "everyone is suspecting my favoritism towards you- you might get hated if it really cleared it all up." she states in a more concern tone, i mean it was true, paige have been keeping you away from the consequence whenever you get in trouble.

paige started to rub your clit and you whimpered. "i—im already hated enough." you spoke up your voice cracking.

"what are you talking about?" she asked stopping all her movements. once she noticed the tears in the corner of your eyes shes taken back stopping all her movements. "im a whore, dont you see? you think your the only one i mess with?" you ranted tears falling, she sat you up and covered you with a blanket.

"im..." paige was stunned but she kept her gaze at you.

"but why?" paige asked furrowing her eyebrows wanting answers, you kept quiet because honestly, it was you. maybe you loved the validation, the idea of people being so pleasured when it came to you.

"i understand." paige spoke up when you kept silent, she wiped your tears, and kissed your cheeks pressing your head on her chest pulling you in a embrace. "im so sorry.." she muttured

you opened your eyes, a sinful smirk forming on the corner of your lips. you have turned the table once again.

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST @janaelalfysloml @gabbyygoo @brenwritesss @addl0vee @sharksmom69 @bellaprintz25 @leiyanzyves @belsouza21 @apbueckers @loviingsunflower @luldejamleer @simpf0rriddle08 @paige05bby @scarrr5 @shootingstarrrrr @rosemariiaa @leslienjazzy @liviyy @weluvwbb @vicsstufff @taylynbueckers44 @yourmom-25s-blog @d7dream @paigesbasketball @sevikasleftbicep @azzisbueckers @bribadoobeee @tndaqlwifwy @dalilahissilly @bethsleftnip @fitecuddles @uwupaige @melpthatsme

[former-leftist-jew]

Block me then.

I don't fucking care.

I see an idiotic take? I respond with why I think it's idiotic.

You don't want me to engage with your stupid blog? Then fucking block me so I can't engage anymore. The power is in your hands.

(Also.. Fucking Hell, the number of people who assume I must be conservative just because I no longer identify as leftist says a lot more about you than it does about me...

Like--did you even read my above reply?? My entire post above was just nothing but me ruthlessly dragging quintessential 1980's and 1990's white conservative Christian pearl-clutching Reaganites and Thatcher culture...

... Yet you have the gall to just skip all that, zero in on, 'This person has 'Former-Leftist' in their bio, therefore they MUST be an ultra-right wing conservative!!" Like those are the only two things a person could be."

Who says only conservatives have a, "there's only black and white, no shades of grey" mentality?

you don't support trans men either, yeah, double DNI there

... Most of my IRL friends are trans, and my best friend and ex-boyfriend/roommate of four years is a trans man. Where did this come from?

...

What??

Do you think the ultra-conservatives I was criticizing, who spend all their time and mental energy obsessing about women and minorities acting in ways they don't approve of (that don't align with their punishing white Evangelical Christian heteronormative worldviews), will really take a moment to mentally think to themselves, "This transmasc/non-binary person who was assigned female at birth (afab) had premarital sex and wants to have an abortion, so I hate it when women and afab/nb people want to have reproductive rights--"

FUCK NO!! Conservatives don't think like that.

They don't give a shit about pronouns or personal identity.

All they care about is, "You're having a baby and you have tits and a womb? Then you're a woman and I hate when women have sex and get pregnant and try to end pregnancies without a man." THAT'S IT.

I PROMISE YOU it's not more complicated than that!

I should know, because I grew up in blue-as-a-bruise cities my whole life, had to move to a "yee-haw!" blood-red conservative town for financial reasons, just before my non-binary partner came out as trans-masculine. We had to start pursuing hormone-replacement therapy and possible top- and bottom-replacement surgery in a blood red conservative town, most of whom have family in Arkansas, Oklahoma and Texas. We got to experienced a lot of conservative worldviews against LGBTQIA+ people IN REAL LIFE, which is why I'm extra critical of it.

Conservatives do not give a shit about your transmasc/non-binary/what-have-you personal identity, so I don't include leftist buzzwords when I insult the conservative idiotic thought process.

If a person is pregnant, THEY THINK "womb = woman," so I imitate that idiotic thought process when I insult that idiotic thought process.

(Image is from a post you wrote)

Jesus Christ, you creepy, obsessive little stalker.

You have enough time and energy to search through every post I ever made, so you can zero in on the ONE sentence I ever typed that wasn't up to snuff for you, but you SOMEHOW failed to notice how the entire rest of my goddamn blog is ultra-critical of ultra-conservatives, and points out how self-proclaimed lefties who claim to hate conservatives are guilty of the EXACT SAME conservative behavior and traits they claim to hate?

Just block me already. I don't care.

Why do you know so much about Nazism and their symbols? Really suspicious of you to know so much about Nazi symbols around the world

I have a few honors degrees in the following fields:

1. Criminology with a focus on hate crimes against trans individuals, and religious extremism

2. Political Science with a focus on far-right ideology

3. Biblical studies (the aim of this was to get a more grounded understanding of the Bible so I can attach what I learn to my other degrees, to hyper-focus on Christian far-right movements and better combat their rhetoric)

So, yeah. That's why I know so much about far-right symbols and their history, I've studied it and talked to people who are members of some of these groups.

But sure "suspicious", gonna start accusing me of being far-right now? Already got the "cis gay man", "actually a trans man", "not really trans", "pedo for being ok with dating/intimacy with an agereg" accusations against me, might as well add another!

[cheeseborgorbord2]

Pregnancy Headcanons with GamerGirl!Jinx

Men and minors DNI

(amab) GamerGirl!Jinx & (afab, latina) reader

Warning: fluff, pregnancy, childbirth, breastfeeding, breastfeeding kink, pregnancy sex, brief breeding

⇒You miss your period by a week. At first, it wasn't concerning. Your periods have been late before, once not coming for a month, but that was before meeting GamerGirl!Jinx.

⇒You didn't worry about pregnancy until, one morning, you woke up feeling strange. You felt a bit dizzy and nauseous, slightly stumbling to the bathroom, hand clamped over your mouth. You leaned over the sink, head hanging as you tried to properly breathe. You began heaving, a few gags escaping, eventually vomiting in the toilet.

⇒After vomiting, you clean up and get back in bed. You figured it was a stomach bug or your stomach hating you.

⇒A month had gone by, and still no period. Now, the worry crept in. It had been too long.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who has noticed a difference in your behavior. You haven't been eating as much or sleeping well, and it's been worrying her. Sometimes, during streams, you would come into the room and get in bed, your bundled form partially in view. Seeing you already knocked out, she ends her streams early so you can get some proper sleep.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who is focused on a game when you tell her you're running to the convenience store. She nods, not paying attention. You grab your keys and drive to the store, purchasing a few tests and some snacks.

⇒When you get back into the apartment, she's still sitting at the gaming setup, distracted. Perfect. You grab the few boxes of tests and follow the directions.

⇒After 10-15 minutes, you look at the few sticks that rested on the sink counter.

Positive.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who was about to start her stream when you walked in holding one of the pregnancy tests in your hands.

"Babe," you call.

"Yeah?" She answered.

"I'm pregnant."

"That's cool." She says. It takes a solid minute for her to register your words. "Wait, what?" She turns in the gamer chair to face you.

"I'm pregnant," you repeat, holding the test up to her. She grabs the test from you and stares at it. She looks at you, almost with an unreadable expression. She almost looks mad. She stands up and gets close enough for your breasts to touch.

"Are you messing with me? Is this a prank?" She asked, holding the test up.

"What, no! Of course not! You know I don't joke about this. Why would you-" You're interrupted by a sudden embrace. Jinx has her arms around you, her face hidden in your neck.

"I can't believe this. We're going to be parents."

⇒She cancels her stream of the day and immediately showers you in love: kisses, hugs, cuddles, a hot bath, a home-cooked meal, and passionate sex. She spends the night holding you in a breeding press as she knocks you up even further.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who constantly kisses your stomach every day throughout your pregnancy. Even when your stomach is still flat, she kisses it every day at any moment, even on stream, but off screen.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who takes you to every appointment to the OBGYN.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who gets jealous of your cat, Stink. Stink will often lie on your stomach and purr when the opportunity presents itself. He makes biscuits on your growing breasts. She fights with Stink about boundaries and who you belong to.

"Listen, you little shit, that's my girl, not yours. Stop touching her boobs!"

"Jinx, he's a cat."

"I don't care. He's touching the milk source of our future child. He's not getting any."

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx always carries a small backpack of extra clothes for you in case you accidentally piss yourself when you two are out. Thankfully, no accidents happen.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who plays her favorite music in headphones she puts on your stomach.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who fucks you whenever you are needy and horny. She makes sure you don't do too much. She'll fuck you in safe and comfortable positions like missionary and doggy. When you ride her, she'll thrust her hips up, holding you down by your hips.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who loves the lazy blowjobs and handjobs you give. Despite her protests, she knows you want to make her feel good even when you're pregnant.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who learns to cook Mexican and Puerto Rican dishes so you don't have to cook during your pregnancy.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who swats any strangers' hands that try to touch your stomach.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who keeps an arm around you everywhere you go.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who threatened to kill a man who kept pestering you and being creepy about how pregnant women are hot.

"Fuck off, you creep! I'll cut your nuts off to make sure YOU don't have kids! Keep your hands and dick away from my girl!"

You had to drag her away before she got too violent.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who massages your feet when you ache or your back from the weight of the baby.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who freaks out and squeals she feels the baby kick.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who buys and makes every craving you have. Chocolate-covered strawberries with hot cheetos? Got it. Frozen yogurt and cucumbers with tajin? Consider it done.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who buys a fuck ton of baby toys and clothes, not carrying what 'gender' their for.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who begrungingly calls her sister to convince her girlfriend, Caitlyn, to plan a gender reveal baby shower. Vi, not knowing her sister's girlfriend was pregnant in the first place, freaks out happily at the news. Next thing you know, Vi is busting down the door to your apartment with Caitlyn in tow.

"I'm going to be an aunt!" Vi screams, bursting with happiness. She pulls you into a tight hug, squeezing the life out of you.

"Vi, hey, I can't brea-"

"Vi, you're going to kill my girlfriend!" Jinx yells.

"Shit, sorry." Vi apologizes sheepishly, releasing you.

"Damnit, Vi."

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who is hesitant to announce your pregnancy to her followers, but you assure her you don't mind.

"Hey, my Jinxers. Today's stream is going to start a bit differently." She waves you over. "I want to announce that my girlfriend and I are having a baby!" She brings you closer so your bump is in view.

The chat blows up with congratulations and speculations about the pregnancy being real.

As proof, GamerGirl!Jinx lifts your shirt to show the stretched skin holding her combined spawn and kisses it on camera.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who cuts the cake at the gender reveal baby shower, revealing it's actually twins.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who comes up with ridiculous names.

"What if we name them Bobert? Randy? Stout? Zino? Nimi? What about Brick?"

"We are not naming one of them Brick!"

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who won't let you do any work in making the bedroom into a partial nursery.

"Jinx, I want to help," you whine.

"No, you need to take it easy."

"It's my baby too!"

"No."

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who makes sure everything is packed weeks before your due date.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who calls Sevika to carry you to the hospital when you go into labor.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who watches every movement from the nurses and delivery doctors who handle and take care of you.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who stays by your side as you struggle to push your babies out. She lets her hand be crushed by your superhuman strength.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who cries as her baby boys are born. The twins resemble her: blue eyes, one with blue hair and one with brown hair, both sharing her pale skin. She kisses your sweaty forehead.

"You did it, baby. You welcomed our beautiful boys into the world."

She then watches and follows the nurses with your babies. She's extra fucking protective now that her sons are born.

Post-pregnancy headcanons

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who watches anyone who handles your boys. She once snatched one of the twins from Vi because 'she was tickling him too hard.'

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who will help you bathe. She cleans you with the most gentle of care.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who holds one baby to one of your tits and you hold the other to help feed them.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who stares in adoration at the babies as they sleep, watching even the slightest movement.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who will drop her game, on or off stream, at the drop of a hat to take care of her sons.

⇒GamerGirl!Jinx who will drink some milk straight from your tit when the babies are full and fed.

"Fuck, Jinx, that's the babies' food."

"But all this milk will go to waste."

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Headers made by me.

Please do not copy my work without credit. Likes and reposts are appreciated.