#i need to disinfect that bad boy

[deklo]

honestly GREAT timing @ my work closing down lol i took tiny beakers and long tweezers from the lab so i can make my dog’s tooth into a necklace :)

[devil-in-hiding]

This is just random ramblings cause I'm in my lovestruck hurt/comfort era, so please feel free to ignore buttt...

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Farmer!reader who slices their hand open by accident while out in the barn, que you stumbling back in the house with your palm gushing blood, hair stuck to your face from sweat and youre vision is going dim around the edges. The boys are immediately in protective mode orders being shouted by Price, Ghost ushering you to sit while they gather sutures, scissors, bandages, and disinfectant cream.

They handle you with such care, shushing and pressing small kisses to your forehead and cheek. You're gripping Soaps hand, knuckles white as you try not to cry out but it hurts so fucking bad and you sob everytime they pull the needle through.

When it's all said and done, Price coos at you gently, helping you dress into one of your nightgowns that Gaz had gone and grabbed for you. They take you to your bedroom, laying you out on the numerous pillows and blankets, and then they take a better part of 2 hours eating you out.

Leaving you twitching and kicking ur socked feet cutely in the air, eyes rolled back, your hips making cute wiggle motions and your one good hand knuckles deep in Ghosts hair, verging on your 3rd orgasm of the night. Soap holds your wrist to your bad hand, pressing sweet kisses to your bandages, cooing at you for being so good.

But you deserve it, you're so sweet, so brave, and you were such a good little bunny while they cleaned your wound.

Now, lay back and let them heal you through the power of orgasms lmao.

- Kiwi anon 🥝

hi yeah i need to be hospitalised

this is fucking delicious and thank you so much for this because i could make a whole smut hurt/comfort chapter around this if that’s okay because fuckin FUCK

[p0orbaby]

I’d Rather Go Blind Than Let You Down

summary: the baby is here, that should calm leah down, right? right?

warnings: hospital setting

a/n: someone asked for some more panicky leah so here it is. first part here but you don’t need to read it if you don’t want to

word count: 1.3k

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It’s a boy. A boy. Your boy. You can hardly wrap your head around it, the reality of him. He’s only been in the world for forty minutes, and already it feels like he’s upended every law of physics. Six pounds and change, but impossibly heavy in the way he roots you to the earth, demanding you stay present, stay still, stay here. His hair is a downy mess of dark brown fluff, sticking up in little uneven tufts that remind you of how Leah’s fringe used to look after her under-12s matches: matted and wild, all effort and energy. His hands—God, his hands—are the size of fifty-pence pieces, delicate and wrinkled, each finger curled tightly into its own little fist. He’s perfect. Absolutely, inexplicably perfect. And you’re completely terrified.

The hospital room smells like cheap soap and distant disinfectant, undercut by the faint, sticky sweetness of some long-spilled juice no one bothered to properly clean. It’s a symphony of beige: beige walls, beige curtains, beige linoleum. Even the bed looks beige, although it’s probably just worn white, like an old t-shirt washed too many times. Somewhere in the hallway, someone’s shoes squeak with rhythmic persistence, and you vaguely wonder if they’re pacing, as you had earlier, wearing an accidental track into the polished floor.

Leah is sitting in the uncomfortable armchair by the bed, which is upholstered in that scratchy material designed to withstand decades of spills and bad decisions. Her elbows rest on her knees, her fingers steepled against her lips in a half-prayer, half-facepalm, as if she’s mid-negotiation with some higher power. She hasn’t spoken much since the baby was born. Not because she doesn’t want to, you think, but because the enormity of it all has rendered her mute. She looks pale, unsteady, as if someone has shaken her up like a bottle of fizzy water and forgotten to twist the cap back on properly.

The baby makes a soft, snuffling noise against your chest, pulling her attention like a magnet. Her gaze darts to him and then flicks away just as quickly, as if looking directly at him for too long might somehow blind her. She hasn’t held him yet. She hasn’t even really touched him, save for one trembling fingertip brushed against his impossibly tiny foot when the midwife first handed him to you. It wasn’t avoidance, not exactly. More like reverence. Or fear. Maybe both.

You’re exhausted in a way that doesn’t feel real, like your body’s moving on autopilot while your brain drifts somewhere between sleep and shock. Your limbs are heavy, molten, but there’s also an odd lightness to you, a weightless, dizzying awe at what you’ve just done. You gave birth. You. You. Somehow, you survived it—hours of pain, pushing, panting, the raw animalistic chaos of it—and now you’re here, holding this impossibly small, impossibly fragile life in your arms. You’re not sure how you’re even still upright, let alone conscious.

“Do you want to hold him?” you ask, your voice soft, careful, as if you’re coaxing a wild animal out of the brush.

Leah’s head snaps up, her eyes wide and glassy, like a deer caught in headlights. “Hold him?” she echoes, her voice shaky and high-pitched. “Me?

“Yes, you. Who else?”

She blinks, her hands flexing and unflexing against her knees like they’re warming up for a solo on Britain’s Got Talent. “I… I don’t know if that’s a good idea”

“Leah, he’s your son”

“I know,” she says quickly, her voice climbing into that higher, defensive register that comes out when she’s trying to convince herself more than you. “I know he’s my son. But he’s just so… small. And… fragile. What if I—”

“You’re not going to drop him”

“I might!” she says, alarmed by her own hypothetical. “I might drop him. Or…or hold him wrong. What if I hold him wrong and, like, dislocate something? Babies are delicate! Like…like soufflés”

You blink at her. “Did you just compare our child to a soufflé?”

She shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know! I’m just saying, I’m not exactly… maternal, am I? I’m not one of those people who looks at a baby and just… knows what to do. I’m more of a… ‘panic and Google it’ kind of person”

“That’s fine,” you say, adjusting the baby slightly in your arms as he makes a soft, snuffling noise. “Most parents are ‘panic and Google it’ people. It’s basically the default”

Leah doesn’t look convinced. She’s rubbing her hands together now, the way she does before a big match, but this isn’t a match. There’s no referee, no whistle, no rules, no second leg if she screws this up. Her gaze darts back to the baby, then to you, then back to the baby, like she’s trying to memorise the mechanics of holding him without actually doing it.

“What if I’m terrible at this?” she blurts out suddenly, the words spilling out of her in a rush. “What if I’m a terrible mum and he grows up hating me and we end up one of those families where no one talks and we all just sit around at Christmas in complete silence, eating dry turkey and resenting each other?”

You stare at her. “That’s… a very specific fear”

She shrugs, her leg bouncing up and down anxiously. “I’ve seen it happen”

“Leah, you’re not going to be a terrible mum”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you. And you love him. That’s pretty much the most important part”

She frowns, her brow furrowed like she’s still not quite buying it. “Love’s not enough. Love doesn’t teach you how to… to… change nappies or… or know what all the different cries mean”

“Love doesn’t teach you that,” you agree, “but practice does. And you’ll get there. We both will”

Leah’s eyes flick back to the baby, who has now fallen into a soft, twitchy sleep against your chest. Her expression softens slightly, but the fear is still there, a tightness around her mouth, a tension in her shoulders.

“What if he doesn’t like me?” she asks quietly.

You laugh, soft and disbelieving. “He’s a newborn, Leah. His likes and dislikes are limited to ‘milk’ and ‘not-milk.’ He’s not going to sit there judging your personality”

She doesn’t laugh. If anything, she looks even more stricken, like she’s just realised she might have to win over this tiny person who doesn’t even have fully developed motor skills yet.

You sigh, reaching out to take her hand. “Leah, listen to me. You’re not going to drop him. You’re not going to dislocate anything. And you’re definitely not going to ruin Christmas twenty years from now. You’re going to be great. I promise”

She hesitates, her fingers curling slightly around yours. “What if I mess up?”

“You will,” you say simply. “We both will. That’s part of it. But messing up doesn’t mean failing. It just means you’re trying”

For a moment, she just looks at you, her eyes searching yours for something—reassurance, absolution, a manual for parenthood that doesn’t exist. Then, slowly, she nods. It’s not a confident nod, not by any stretch, but it’s a start.

“Okay,” she says quietly. “I’ll try.”

You smile, holding out the baby toward her. “Then take him”

She hesitates for one last second before leaning forward, her hands trembling slightly as she takes the baby from you. She holds him like he’s made of glass, her arms stiff and awkward, but she’s holding him. She’s doing it.

And then the baby lets out a tiny, contented sigh, and Leah freezes, staring down at him like she’s just witnessed a miracle.

“He…he’s so… little,” she whispers, her voice filled with something like awe. “And warm. Why’s he so warm?”

“Because he’s a baby, not a lizard”

Leah lets out a soft, breathless laugh, her eyes never leaving the baby’s face. For the first time all night, she looks calm. Not completely, but enough. Enough to believe, maybe just for a moment, that she can do this.

That you can do this. Together.

[098-lxxon]

INGREDIENTS ANALYSIS‼️

Content warning : Bad English, SA mentioned, Mouthwashing brain rot

[ I love overanalyzing Mouthwashing. ]

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Colors :

I think we all know it by now about how the color of the packs and characters' speech text are the same.

Anya & Water, Swansea & Gelatin, Daisuke & Sweetener, and Jaywalker & Tonic.

Cake :

There's no tonic needed in the cake. Only water, gelatin, and sweeter. The cake would be bitter if they mix the tonic with the batter.

Cocktail / Mocktail :

Hear me out, this is what I think.

The original recipe was water + tonic + sweetener.

It is possible that this Cocktail has been made to hurt Anya before, because when the water is mixed with tonic, it dilutes the tonic, symbolizing Anya being used to dilute Jimmy's stress. The diluted tonic was a symbol of the fetus inside of Anya, having both Anya and Jimmy's traits. And the sweetener that was added used to make it more presentable, maybe used to romanticize the new life they brought into this world, maybe used to represent the innocence of the unborn.

As for the Mocktail, the recipe was rewritten by Jimmy. Now it's Mouthwash + isopropyl + Sweetener.

I still believe the mouthwash is meant to represent Anya. She was mixed with tonic once, having what society picture as an innocent inside of her then, and now being an experience, a wicked inspiration for Jimmy to make this recipe. She even tried to hide herself from Jimmy when Daisuke was injured and needed disinfectant, being so hard to get not to let Jimmy hurt him for nothing. Yet, she was always found. Just like how she locked herself in the medical room and still be found.

Isopropyl is Jimmy. Tonic represents his stress. Now he's a walking insanity, being the kind of alcohol that would kill anyone who drinks him from the inside out. (Killing Curly's mental state, then left him in the pod, probably to die if no one ever found him.) Yet, he saw himself as something that would solve all the problems, something that would kill all germs.

And the sweetener, boy, oh boy, does it represent Daisuke. But it wasn't just how he was a part of the plan which lead everyone to their doom. Just like Anya as the mouthwash, He has been trying to hide himself.

The sweetener was Daisuke himself, hiding under the blanket, trying not to be noticed when it's already ignored by everyone when is not needed. And Jimmy was the one searching, finding, hunting for it, making it felt needed for the first time, only to realize how Jimmy just wanted to used it as a part of his plan, of his Mocktail. Just like how he did everything to make Daisuke climb up that vent. So he'll get what he wants, the spiked Mocktail, and the way to get into the medical room.

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[ Thank you for reading! ]

[randomsuggesteduseername]

SPIDER’S SECRET I

🕸️ SERIES MASTERLIST

‧₊˚ when new york’s famous vigilante helps you out of a mugging, an arrangement is quick to turn into a friendship….and perhaps more. after all, his charisma needs no face to work its magic on you ‧₊˚

spidey!steve x fem!reader

wc: 4k

description of wounds and violence, fluff, slight pining, smoking

Three knocks stronger than the rhythmic pitter patter of the rain have your attention shifting towards the window. Had you not been welcoming him in your room for the past few weeks you would’ve jumped right out of your bed out of fear. But this was becoming a regular thing, it’s now a matter of ‘when’ rather than ‘if’.

Pushing your biology course books out of your lap, your mind on him rather than the endocrine system you’re supposed to be studying. As you briefly wonder the gravity of his wounds, you remember to close and safely lock your door to avoid interruptions, aware it would be worrying for your mom to find you patching up Spider-man, the boy in a tight, red suit who always makes it on the news. Some say he’s a necessary vigilante for the troublesome city, others state he’s just a dumb kid playing superhero.

Although he always refuses to tell you anything about his identity or his life, you’re pretty sure he’s certainly not just playing around, countless bruises and cuts can attest to that.

The sound of the rain gets louder as you open the window, droplets smacking against the emergency metal staircase climbing up the side of the building. Poking your head out of your room carefully, you look to the left, met with a dark figure sitting on the stairs, leaning back against the brick wall, chest still heaving, shoulders sagged yet tight with pain.

“C’mon Bug-boy…” Urging him inside, you step back from the window, letting him come inside, droplets of water sliding down onto your carpet from his suit. He’s limping, you notice as much, his usual flexible self being rendered to a few pained movements. You briefly wonder how he managed to make it here.

The moment he’s inside your room, he plops down to the floor, resting back against the foot of your bed while his body seems to finally relax a bit, assuming he knows he’s safe with you and you’ll take care of him. Silently bending down, you reach under the bed and pull out the hidden first aid kit you bought a week ago, having realised that some small bandages and a disinfectant won’t do anymore.

Shutting the window, you take the precaution to pull the curtains shut, aware how paranoid he gets sometimes. Kneeling next to him, you tuck some hair behind your ears and speak. “Where, and how bad?” Hoping he’s not actually too injured, hating to see him like this, he pulls his mask up to his neck, showing a cut on his jaw, and as you gaze down, you asses another injury on his waist.

You’ve never seen his face. He’s kept his mask firmly in place, and has instructed you to do the same even if he passes out. You’re not sure what would be so bad about seeing his face, but you stopped questioning it after a while, now staring at the sharp jawline, biting your lip as some wet, brown and blond-ish strands of hair stick to the side of his neck.

Forcing yourself from building him a face you think would fit him based on what you’ve seen already, you rummage through the kit and furrow your brows as you fish the cleaning cloth, dampening it with disinfectant before you announce that it’s going to hurt.

He knows that, of course he does, he’s been through this with you before. But it does feel reassuring to acknowledge his pain. Focusing on the bloody split on his jaw, glad it’s not too deep, you don’t bother to ask what weapon did this as you know he never answers. The pain you cause him is evident from the way his fists stay curled tightly, pressed against his thighs.

Wiping the blood away from his skin and ignoring his groan, you grab a bandage big enough to fit his wound and place it over, making sure it sticks to his skin. However, the cut on his waist is more concerning. His suit is damaged, cut just like his skin is beneath it, though luckily it has stopped oozing blood for a while now, saving the mess it would have made on your floor and carpet.

Scared to approach it, you stare at it and watch as he pushes himself up a bit, having slumped against the foot of your bed due to the pain. “Thought you were about to become a doctor…you’re going to leave me out to die?” His tone, despite trying to sound amused, still has that pained tinge to it. The absurdity of his statement has your eyes rolling, huffing while a bloody cotton ball falls onto the floor. He’s here, laying on your floor after being beaten up, yet he still has the audacity to humour you.

“First of all, you are not going to die from two superficial cuts.” You can see his lips curling up, showing his white teeth as they split into a grin. Lips so pink, you stop to admire for a moment before remembering the point you were trying to make. “And second of all, I haven’t even started my residency yet! I’m purely working on you with the theoretical knowledge I have.”

He stifles his laugh, teeth biting into his lip before he quickly chokes up a gasp, grasping at his side. Pursing your lips, you let him calm down before shaking your head and murmuring about him being a dummy, regaining your confidence to approach his wound, you try not to think about it too much before you use a pair of scissors to cut more of his suit in order to gain access to his cut. Letting him know you’re ready, he breaches for the pain and you work through the mess of dried up blood, brows pulling together and eyes squinting while you carefully sanitise the wound, wrapping it up before you lean back, plopping on your butt with a soft thump before you gaze at him, his head now propped against the wooden pillar, taking calming breaths through his mouth.

“You’ll be fine, it didn’t look too bad.” Silently appreciating your assuring words, he moves to stand up. He never lingers, this sort of agreement you two have never went beyond you cleaning and patching him up, moments later to have him jump right back out of your window and disappear into the night, swinging from building to building.

It didn’t bother you at first, but now you’d like him to at least acknowledge you a bit more. It’s selfish, you think. You can’t demand something like that from him, so you keep your mouth shut and watch as he pads to the window, his steps as light as a cat’s.

“See you soon, doc.” The last thing you see is another stretch of his pretty lips before he tugs his mask down in place and opens your window, leaving you with a shudder as a wave of cold air enters your room, watching as he confidently jumps down from the rail.

Shaking your head and sighing, you close the window, lingering by it for a few moments before you pack up the first aid kit and throw away the bloody cotton balls.

—

THREE WEEKS AGO

Chilly weather always has you adding another layer beneath your jacket in hopes of maintaining a healthy body temperature. But as much as you want it to work, you always end up shaking, legs not able to carry you as fast as you’d wish. This late at night the streets are mostly empty, as was the uni’s library in which you spend your whole evening, revising one last time for your exam.

And just a ten minute walk is all it takes to get back home, so without hesitating, you walk with freezing hands shoved in your pockets. You’re not aware of the man taking an interest in you until it’s too late, his voice, gruff and raspy, calls out for you, and you make your first mistake. Stopping in your tracks to turn around.

He’s about the same height as you, a black beanie and hood covering his features, shielding him from the streetlight’s golden cast. He holds a knife, you can tell by the handle of it, the blade hidden behind his thigh as he speaks again. “Give me your bag.” He demands, his voice wavering as if he’s scared, paranoically looking back over his shoulder.

“I said give me the fucking bag!” He shouts, getting a bit more frantic now as he reaches his left hand for the strap of your bag, fist curling around the leather, but before he can even think of tugging on it he’s blinded by a web covering his eyes. You gasp, stepping back as his grip falls from your bag and instead scratching his covered eyes to free them, another ‘woosh’ sound echoes, another web collides with the man, this time glueing his hand to his chest.

A figure slowly comes down, hanging upside down, feet pressed to the thin string that’s connecting him to the street lamp while he keeps hold of it. You notice him wearing a costume, covering his whole body, a spider shape etched onto his chest. He drops down on the pavement, easily tripping the mugger as he tries to run away. You stand there and gasp as you hear the loud thud as the man falls onto the concrete.

“You, my dear sir, need to be taught a lesson.” The man…boy? in the spider costume tuts and crosses his arms over his chest in disappointment, pretending to care though he’s clearly mocking him. “This young lady didn’t do anything wrong. It’s always the undeserving ones who experience the worst things because of assholes like you.” His words seem to hold a sort of personal value to him, you don’t dare speak.

After the police picks up the thief, you continue making your way back, an uneasy feeling still lingering at the back of your mind. “So…” You yelp as the boy swings in front of you, landing on the side of the building a bit higher up and sticking to it effortlessly as if his limbs are made out of glue. “Why’re you walking alone? You didn’t get dumped, did you?” He tries his luck, jumping to the next building by crawling on the side of it to keep up with your walking pace.

“Um…no.” Keeping your hands tucked in your jacket, not daring to look at him, he jumps down from the building, and surprisingly enough he starts walking backwards in front of you, hands locked behind his back as he effortlessly side steps over a puddle of muddy water. “Just coming back from uni.” You’ve heard of him before, the one in the spider suit doing good deeds expecting nothing in return, but a few blurry images couldn’t really convince you of his integrity, so as he walks in front of you, you’re not sure what he wants from you.

Maybe he’s just another creep, playing the good guy role to gain the trust of others— “Hello, earth to pretty girl.” He waves a covered hand in front of you, making you snap out of your pretty ridiculous train of thought. “Relax, m’just walking you home to make sure you’re fine.” He flicks his hand, trying to bat away your obvious worries. “So, what are you studying?”

His question catches you off guard, eyes widening for a moment before he clarifies. “You said you were coming back from university, right?”

“Oh…” The sound is breathy, feeling a bit embarrassed as you respond. “Medicine, general surgery.” The slight saunter in his walk doesn’t fade, head cocking curiously to the side as he gives you an approving nod.

Stopping in front of your building, you bite your lip, eyes drifting away from the mask, trailing to his arm where you’re quick to notice the cut on his bicep, blood reddening the material of his suit. Stepping closer instinctively, you look at the damage before you frown. “You’re hurt.” He curiously lifts his arm a bit before he notices his cut.

“Hm, didn’t notice…must’ve cut myself while i was swinging.” By the way his words come out you’re assuming whoever is behind the mask is frowning.

“I could help.” Out of the blue, surprising yourself too, you offer to patch him up. You’re not sure if he can be trusted, but the way he helped you out of a street mugging, you feel like you at least owe him a bit of help back. “I’m on the third floor, room on the corner…there.” You point to the window and he takes a mental note. “Be quiet, my parents can’t know.”

After patching him up, he climbs out your window, and then once again, something in your mind has you speaking up. “If you ever need help…with wounds and stuff— you can always come by.” You fiddle with your hands and watch the curve of his back, head turning to the side to gaze back over his shoulder, at least you assume so since his eyes are covered by the mask.

“Will do, thanks doc!” You gasp as he flings himself over the edge, free falling for a few seconds before he shoots out webs, catching himself against the next building, watching him disappear into the night.

—

“The amazing Spider-man, infamous hero of New York City, has saved a family from a burning building. Earlier today, the masked vigilante made his presence known by pulling out a family of four from their top floor apartment as it went up in flames. Authorities showed up to the scene and from what we know so far, they detected a gas leak—“

Tuning out the news reporter, you sigh as you wonder if you’ll see him again. It’s been almost a week and truthfully you’re glad he hasn’t shown up at your window with another set of bruises and cuts on him, but you still feel somewhat empty. Maybe you’re expecting a sign? Something to let you know he’s alive and well, even though there’s plenty of news attesting to that already.

It’s absurd really, but spending your time sitting on your windowstill has become a habit, whether you’re studying or drinking a coffee, you look out into the night sky, hoping to see a dash passing by. Maybe it was for the best, maybe he’s found himself a licensed doctor to take care of him, not some second year student patching him up in her bedroom with shaky hands. Tracing your fingers over the spine of your book, the words jumble as your eyes pass over them, not making any sense of them in your brain. It’s your third time reading this page, but you pull your eyes away from it the moment a familiar voice rings through the room, your eyes finding the TV where he’s apparently giving an interview.

“Rest assured, New York, the Spider-man is here.” He gives a salute to the camera before he swings away, quickly disappearing from the screen. Great. Now he’s giving interviews.

Pushing yourself off the bed, socked feet dragging over the floor as you make your way to the kitchen, passing your dad in the living room. He’s watching some game, newspaper sprawled open on his lap. After grabbing some water, you return to your room, a cold breeze darting over you, eyes widening as you find the window opened. “What the…”

Stepping into the room to close it, your brows furrow as you turn around, a voice coming from above you. “Language, young lady.” You gasp, stumbling back against the bed, finding him sticking to the ceiling, hanging in the corner of your room. Clutching your heart, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. “The fuck’s wrong with you?” Shaking your head, you watch as he drops down onto his feet, moving to rest against the wall by the window, you’re wondering if he’s looking for a quick escape in case it’s needed,

“Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to freak you out,” He lifts his hands, as if surrendering, but you purse your lips, a brow cocking curiously. “You say that while you were just hanging off my ceiling.” That makes him think for a moment, letting out a soft chuckle before he brushes a hand over the back of his head.

“I guess you’ve got a point…” His smile is obvious in his tone, his body more relaxed than usual which has you wondering if he’s hurt, because that’s why he must be here in the first place. Standing up, you walk to him and give him a once over.

“Are you hurt?” Not being able to find any injuries which might need your attention, you breathe in and watch as he dismisses your words with a shake of his head, making the furrow between your brows deepen. He pushes himself off the wall, walking around your room as he seems to be looking around curiously, pictures hanging off the walls, decorations propped up on furniture.

“Nope, I’m fine. Thanks to this new suit…something about impenetrable nanofibers I think.” His hand reaches for a teddy bear, grabbing it as he turns around, propping it in front of his face before he speaks in a higher pitched, mocking voice. “Bad spider, scaring his trusted doctor like that.”

You must admit, he’s ridiculous, watching him do that makes you grin to yourself, rolling your eyes for good measure before you step closer, yanking the teddy away from him as you prop him back into his place. “Hands off, bug boy.”

“Bug boy— really? I’m- I’m not some ladybug, or stink bug. I’m a spider, I shoot webs. I’m cool.” Defending his case, he makes a few “phew” sounds as he pretends to shoot webs all over your room, but you cross your arms, standing still before he stops, leaving silence to settle in for a moment. “Okay, that was ridiculous, not cool at all.” Laughing softly, you bite your lip, taking a look at him.

“Why are you here? Since you’re not hurt…impenetrable nanofibres and all.” Waving a hand jokingly to dismiss the words as he had done earlier, he simply shrugs, moving to pull the curtains shut as a last minute safety measure.

“I guess I just wanted to check in on you, you know? I don’t think I’ll be needing any patchwork done anytime soon.” Ah. So that’s it, he’s come to tell you you’re useless to him now. You toy with your fingers and nod, assuming this is the last time you’ll get to talk to him like this.

“That’s okay. So that means you won’t have any reason to come here anymore.” That seems to make him silent for a few moments, this time it’s awkward, not carrying that comedic effect like before.

“I can still come and see you, you know? We could hang out…as friends.” Your eyes widen. He wants to keep coming to see you. Not because he has to, but because he wants to. Your mouth opens, no words coming out, instead you settle for a small smile and a nod.

This could be good, at least it seems to be that way.

—

Carefully stepping out of your room, holding onto the railing, you sit down on the metal platform, knees pulling up to your chest as you hug the sweater tighter over your body, not letting the cool breeze beat you.

You’re not sure when you picked up smoking as part of your regular routine, all you know is that you’re out in the cold now, trying to take your nicotine fill. Red knuckled hand grasping the lighter in your hand, thumb flicking over the spark wheel a few times until a flame bursts out, burning the tip of the cigarette, taking a drag before stuffing the lighter in the pocket of your sweats.

Watching the cloud of smoke flow up into the air, the back of your head pressed against the brick wall, the cold not being such a bother anymore. “Didn’t anyone tell you those are bad for you?” A familiar voice pulls you out of your own head, he’s crouching on the railing, maintaining his equilibrium perfectly.

Taking another drag as if to humour his words, you sigh. “You’ve got to stop doing that. One day I’ll have a heart attack.” He jumps from the railing, settling down in front of you, legs outstretched as they cage you in, feet pressing to the wall on each side of your body.

Though he’s not touching you at all, the position feels somewhat cosy, offering you a sense of protection. Blowing another lungful of smoke, you hold your hand out to him, offering him a drag. The way his head tilts lets you know he’s thinking about it before his hand reaches for the cigarette, his other tugging his mask up over his lips, exposing his lower face once again.

How is it that just his lips have you in a trance, trying your hardest to build him a portrait in your mind? You’ve never asked to see his real face, though you doubt it he’d actually show it to you. A so-called friend of Spider-man’s.

He puffs out the smoke in a similar manner to you, eyes following the way his tongue wets his slightly chapped lips, trying not to let certain thoughts encompass you. “So how was your night? Any bad guys?” Deflecting with the start of a conversation, you watch as he ashes the cigarette over the railing, passing it back to you.

“Pretty boring, but it’s gotten better.” Fighting the smile his natural charm tries to put on your face, you sigh and knock your foot into the inside of his knee lightly. “Funny…” Your word falls flat, followed by the slightest smile as you give him the last puff, letting him throw it away too.

“You know, for someone who is all about the law, you’re pretty ignorant of littering.” Quirking your brow as if to scold him, you notice him grinning, his mask still pulled up. “My apologies.”

Stargazing and small conversations ensued, he’d switched to resting against the wall right next to you halfway through talking about the moon’s colour tonight, shoulders and arms pressing together, you don’t feel like moving away, more so, wishing to drift closer even if by accident.

Tearing your gaze away from his jaw, you tell yourself how wrong this is, to want to reach out and pull his mask the rest of the way up, wanting to reveal his face. Something about the mystery of it has you yearning for more of him, though that would be insane since you don’t even know his name. All he gave to you was a few hours of his company from time to time.

“No, clearly you’re colour blind.” He feigns shock at your statement, hand pressing over his heart before he tuts with a disappointed look on his face. “Oh baby, don’t talk to me like that..”

He’s joking, of course he is, though the pet name, uttered so softly from his lips, makes you warm up, especially in the cheeks. Nudging your forehead to the side of his shoulder, feeling the solid muscle, yet still somewhat comforting, deciding to leave your head there, not uttering a word as he seems to accept the change in position, tilting your head back to gaze at his side profile.

You hate the way the moon lights up his angles perfectly, how the urge to reach a hand up to his face bubbles up inside of you and how everything is just nearly attainable but still out of reach due to your own self restraint. That doesn’t stop the words from coming out though. “Would you show me your face? I feel like we’ve known each other for a month already and all I’ve seen is that mask of yours.”

You feel dejected as he seems to tense next to you, his plush lips thinner now as they purse together. A beat passes where nothing is said, your head pulling back from his shoulder, gazing at him expectantly before he clears his throat, shaking his head with a small smile on his lips.

“I would, but that’s part of the trick, isn’t it? The whole—y’know, faceless act.” Looking down at your lap, you nod, feeling like he’s reducing you to the random passersby who might see his face while he swings from building to building. Trying to not let the disappointment show on your face, you force your attention back to the moon still high onto the sky, uttering softly.

“Yeah…I get it.”

[dazedandconfused-15]

Heaven's in your eyes (Part 4)

From the bottom of my heart, thank you to everyone who took the time to comment and reblog this story, I'm really glad you're sticking with me on this journey!!

If you're enjoying it, a reblog would mean a lot to me and really helps get this fanfic out there! 🫶

Enjoy...

Summary: Life in Hawkins is dull and lonely, especially after your mom abandoned your family, leaving you even more isolated amidst school rumors. Already shy and with few friends, you find solace in your solitude—until Billy Hargrove, the intriguing new boy from California, comes into the picture. To your surprise, Billy seems to seek you out, finding ways to talk to you despite the odds. Never in a million years would you have imagined forming such an unexpected bond with someone.

Link to: Part 1 Part 2, and Part 3

@tatumrileyslover @littlenosoul @nocturnest @the-freak-cassie-313 @rainy-darling @nina-from-317

From then on, you become much more observant. Billy and you meet up after school to do homework, go for walks, grab some food or just hang out. You start noticing small details, like how sometimes his shirt is buttoned up a bit higher than usual, even in warm weather. Occasionally, you catch sight of a bruise on his skin. You refrain from bombarding him with questions, but it's challenging to stay silent when the wounds are obvious. Thankfully, it's never as severe as that night he showed up battered. You quickly understand that this topic is off-limits for him, so you let it go, hoping that someday, he'll feel comfortable enough to open up to you.

For the first time in what feels like ages, happiness seeps into your days. Suddenly, the world seems brighter, nights feel less daunting, and even the mundane surroundings regain a hint of color. But deep down, you know this fragile balance won't last. 

And just like that, everything shifts during a Wednesday afternoon gym class. You're deep into a basketball game. A teammate passes you the ball, and with quick reflexes, you snatch it and charge towards the basket. It all happens in a blur, catching you off guard, until a sharp pang shoots through your knees as they collide with the unforgiving, polished wood of the gym floor. Your heart races as you instinctively extend your arms, just in time to protect your face from the impact. Amid the chaos, the coach's whistle cuts through the noise, and through the fog of pain, a pair of trainers come into focus right before your eyes.

“What happened?” 

“She tripped, Coach,” says the voice belonging to the person in those shoes. Your gaze shifts upward, meeting the mocking eyes of Tina Williams. She stands with one hand on her hip, casually chewing her gum. A moment later, she steps aside as the coach kneels in front of you.

The contrast is stark—where there was once the commotion of squeaking shoes and shouts, there's now a hushed stillness. Half the class has gathered around, watching in silence.

"Are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere?" the coach asks you, resting his hand on your arm. 

deliberately tripped you, sending you crashing to the floor. The pain in your knees isn't unbearable, but your skin is clearly scraped. The sting from where they hit the ground and slid across the floor is still sharp.

"Oh man, we need to disinfect these," the coach remarks, examining your peeling, reddened knees where raw flesh is visible. "I'm taking you to the nurse's office."

"No, no. It's fine." you say, your voice slightly shaky as he helps you to your feet. "It's not that bad."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, yeah," you murmur, catching the faint snickers of Vicky Muller and Carol Perkins as they whisper to Tina, their voices low but filled with amusement.

The coach makes you sit on the benches for the rest of the hour. As the game continues, you become a spectator in every sense—watching the game and the entire situation unfold, feeling completely disconnected from your own body. Your mind drifts, detaching from everything around you. You’re certain Tina tripped you on purpose, but the reason eludes you. Anxiety gnaws at you, leaving a pit in your stomach. When the game finally ends, you follow your classmates into the locker room, keeping your eyes downcast, avoiding any confrontations. All you want is to leave, to escape this uncomfortable situation.

But as you open your locker, you hear footsteps approaching behind you. Reluctantly, you turn, only to find yourself face-to-face with Tina. Vicky stands beside her, arms crossed, with an expression that clearly shows she's anticipating some entertainment, barely able to contain her laughter.

Tina nods toward your knees. “How are your knees?”

You want to snap back, to demand what her problem is, but instead, you choose the path of least resistance. Maybe if you play along, this will all blow over.

“It’s nothing serious. It’ll pass,” you say, forcing a small smile before turning back to your locker.

Tina snorts, and there’s a brief, tense silence. “What’s your deal with Billy?”

Your hand freezes in mid-motion as everything suddenly clicks into place. Slowly, you turn back to her, realizing there’s no avoiding this conversation.

You decide to play dumb. “What do you mean?”

“Did I stutter?”

You swallow, taking in her mocking expression. The locker room falls silent as your classmates stop what they’re doing to watch the scene unfold. In the background, Carol wears a wicked smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I barely know him,” you say, trying to diffuse the situation, not wanting any trouble.

You know that Billy had gone out with Tina a few times not too long ago. It was supposedly nothing serious and ended as quickly as it began. Rumor has it that after they’d hooked up in his Camaro, he drove her home and never called her again.

“Please. You think we’re dumb?” Vicky chimes in. “We’ve seen you hanging with him.”

“I…”

“Listen, honey,” Tina cuts you off, unfolding her arms and stepping toward you. Her tone is anything but sweet, almost aggressive. “I don’t care what the hell you’re up to. But stop it.”

“Wha…”

“You really think he’d be interested in someone like you? Take a good look at yourself,” she sneers, her gaze sweeping over you, making you instantly self-conscious. “Make sure you’re not carrying fleas before you get near guys like Billy. God knows what’s lurking in that cesspool you call home.”

“Or STDs,” Carol chimes in with a smirk. “Like mother, like daughter.”

The comment hits you like a punch to the gut, the pain in your knees forgotten as a deeper ache settles in. The room is filled with your classmates, yet you’ve never felt so alone. Some stand in silent shock, others hold back amused grins, enjoying the spectacle.

“So yeah, stay away from him. Got it?” Tina snaps her bubble gum, her eyes daring you to respond.

They don’t wait for an answer, turning away and leaving you frozen in place. As you open your locker and reach for your clothes, you realize with a sinking feeling that they’re soaked. Water drips onto the floor, soaking your sneakers, and panic rises in your chest. You quickly grab your backpack, hoping it’s unharmed, but find it just as wet, the contents inside ruined.

Murmurs and giggles fill the room as Tina’s voice drifts over again, soft but cutting. “Sorry about that. Maybe next time you’ll know your place.”

You leave school wearing your damp clothes, shivering as the rain falls down on you. The thought of enduring two more hours of English literature is unbearable. Despite your efforts to dry your clothes and backpack, the dampness clings to you, making the weight of it all feel heavier. The mile-long walk home feels endless as your mind replays the scene in the gym and locker room. You wonder how you could have been so naive, so foolish to think you could find a bit of happiness without something going wrong. The cold air stings your wet cheeks, and you wipe them with the back of your hand, your eyes fixed on the ground. Your knees burn, but nothing compares to the deep, burning shame inside you.

When you finally reach home, you’re grateful your father is still at work, sparing you from having to explain why you’re home early or why you look so miserable. You retreat to the shower, letting the hot water pour over you until the steam is so thick you can’t even see the tiles. Later, you curl up on the couch under a blanket, staring blankly at the TV, your mind far away. The phone rings, breaking the silence, but you don’t have the energy to answer it. Whoever is calling is persistent, though, and the ringing continues.

Taking a deep breath, you finally pick up the receiver, trying to keep your voice from sounding hollow.

“Hello?”

“It’s Billy.”

His warm voice is like a balm, soothing your frayed nerves, but it also brings back the harsh memories of the day. The ugly events replay in your mind, and guilt washes over you as you imagine him waiting by his Camaro, only to realize you wouldn’t be showing up.

“I’m sorry. Sorry about that,” you croak, clearing your throat. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

“What happened?”

“I’m just under the weather. That’s all. I think I’m getting sick.”

A heavy silence hangs between you as you twist the phone cord around your fingers, the tension in your grip turning your skin white. You can only hear your own breathing, and you hope desperately that he believes you, that he won’t push for more.

“You sure?” he asks after a moment.

“Yes, I promise. I just need to rest.”

“Alright,” he sighs. “See you tomorrow then.”

“Hey, Billy?” you blurt out, stopping yourself before your voice cracks. The knot in your throat tightens as you struggle with the urge to be honest with him. It doesn’t seem fair to lie, knowing this might be one of the last times you hear his voice. “Thanks for calling,” you manage to say once you’re sure your voice won’t break.

“Don’t mention it. Bye, sweetheart.”

You hang up before you can respond, the warmth of his endearment slicing through you, leaving you on the verge of tears. It’s not just him—it’s everything. The whole situation weighs on you. You glance at the picture of you and your mom on the hall shelf, taken when you were just two years old in her arms. Your dad still keeps it, a reminder of the past. Billy has managed to make your life easier, not by making you forget, but by showing you that happiness was still possible. But today, all those old wounds are reopened. The void left by her, and now by him, feels deeper than ever. That’s the risk of letting people into your life—they eventually leave, and all you’re left with is the emptiness they once filled.

You stay home for the next two days. On Friday, it still hasn’t stopped raining. The day drags on endless, each hour feeling like an eternity. You struggle to find the strength to peel yourself out of bed, your stomach tied in knots, rendering breakfast an impossible feat. As rain continues to patter against the window, casting a dreary backdrop, you find yourself lost in a numb trance, gazing blankly at the vivid greenery outside. Only in the afternoon does your hunger finally overpower the turmoil within, prompting you to rustle up a simple cheese toast to appease your growling stomach. Settling in front of the TV, you attempt to distract yourself from the weight of the day's events. By the late afternoon, as your dad arrives home, you force yourself to summon a facade of composure, determined not to burden him with worries. Then the doorbell rings, snapping you out of your trance, and you get up to see who's there. 

As you open the door, Billy is standing here, his hands on his leather jacket pockets, his gaze wandering off to the side, but turns to look immediately at you. He’s as pretty as the last time you saw him. His eyes lock with yours, making you weak in the knee. 

“Oh. Hey.” you softly say, completely taken off guard by his presence on your front door. 

“Hey.” 

“Uh, what are you doing here?” you ask, trying your best to not sound rude. You’re just confused. 

Billy shrugs. “You didn’t answer when I called. Figured I would come to you instead.” 

His response leaves you speechless. You’re struck by his persistence, amazed that he hasn’t grown tired of you, given his tendency to quickly lose interest in people. He says it so casually, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, and it stirs something inside you that you can’t quite put into words.

Amusement flicks over his face. “You gonna let me in, or what?” 

You excuse yourself by straightening up from your position against the door, opening it wide to let him in. Billy wipes his shoes on the doormat before stepping in. A strange energy seems to be unleashed when your bodies are close to each other. It makes you feel electric. You’ve never believed in those things, but it’s almost like your auras are touching.

You look up at him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you look at each other.

“Sorry, my dad’s here,” you say as you see him look up behind you toward the living room.

Although very subtle, you notice how his body tenses up when your father approaches him and you introduce Billy to him. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

Your dad shakes his hand, a warm smile on his face. “Ah, so you must be Billy. She keeps talking about you.”

Billy lets out a nervous chuckle, briefly glancing at you. You find yourself looking at the ground, cheeks flushed. "Hope she said good things."

“All I can say is that you’re good to her, son. Haven’t seen my daughter smiling this often in a long time. She never talks to me about her friends.” he rests his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it softly. 

“I’m glad to hear that.” you can feel Billy’s eyes on you, boring a hole through your skin. “She’s good to me too.”

Your dad gestures toward the kitchen. “Have you had dinner yet? We made some roasted chicken tonight, it’s delicious.”

Billy shakes his head. “Thank you, sir, I had dinner earlier.” 

“Come have a drink then.” your dad already walks backward to the kitchen. “What can I get you?”

“Dad…” you softly say at his enthusiasm. You never have people over. It’s been a long time since you had them. Not since…well. And you understand your dad lights up as a candle with joy. He’s getting too enthusiastic already.

“You look over eighteen. Beer? Some red wine?” 

Billy glances at you, his hand in his pockets, then slowly follows him to the kitchen. He looks like a wary animal taking in his surroundings.  “Beer is fine. Thank you, sir.”

You follow behind Billy, feeling suddenly so uneasy in your own house. Your eyes follow his broad back as he enters the kitchen, the air already smelling like leather. Like him. 

Your dad, with a casual wave of his hand, says, "Ah, don't bother with all those formalities around me.” 

Billy leans against the counter as your dad extends an uncapped bottle of beer, clinking it against his own. You notice how he stiffens slightly again when your dad mentions remembering his last name, knowing his father. His attitude becomes more reserved, and he answers with small sentences. Especially when your dad mentions how despite having talked to him only a few times at Melvald’s downtown and the bank, he looks like a tough guy. However, your dad is easygoing and his attitude warm, and slowly, throughout the conversation, Billy seems to ease up too. His shoulders relax, and a real laugh escapes him a time or two. You knew they shared some interests, but you didn’t expect them to talk about California for so long. Your dad recounts his younger years living in there, how he spent his days surfing and working in a garage for his own dad’s friend to get some money. Billy did the same back there. He tells your dad how you mentioned some of it to him, then how many more people there are since the 60s, how Will Rogers State Beach is now crowded with tourists. 

“You’re sure you don’t want anything to eat? Hell, there’s plenty of that chicken and it’s only the two of us.” you dad offers again. 

Billy settles the empty beer on the counter. “Oh, I’m fine. Thank you. I was hoping to take her on a ride, to get some fresh air if that’s alright with you.”

Your dad looks at you and you give him a small smile, though you didn’t expect or plan any of it. He nods in approval.

“Sure, kids. Be careful, yeah? It was nice to meet you Billy.”

“Same. Thank you for the beer.”

Your dad winks at him. “Anytime. You’re always welcome.”

At first, silence hangs between the two of you. Billy doesn’t mention it as he drives you toward downtown, and your mind is elsewhere. You’re there physically, but your thoughts are consumed by how wrong it feels to be in the car with him. Your plans to keep your distance have been shattered by his unexpected presence. His decision to come to you makes everything ten times harder. You’re unsure how you’ll find the right words to express yourself without offending him—or worse, hurting him. But then again, maybe you’re overthinking it. Perhaps he doesn’t feel as connected to you as you do to him. Chances are, you’ll be the one left hurting in the end.

Billy casually suggests getting a milkshake at the diner, then lapses back into silence, leaving you unsure whether to thank him or ask him to break the quiet. He doesn’t make it easy. When he parks in front of the diner, he opens the passenger door for you. Physical contact has become second nature between you two—small, almost unconscious gestures, especially on his part. But they always send your heart racing. This time, as he touches your back, gently guiding you inside while holding the diner door open, your heartbeat spikes dangerously.

You usually have a sweet tooth, and the milkshakes at Starlight Grill are delicious, but today, your thoughts have robbed you of your appetite. Billy insists you get something, and when you hesitate, he suggests sharing a milkshake.

When the waitress brings the milkshake along with the bill, Billy takes the first sip. You reach into your pocket for some coins.

“What are you doing?” 

“Just, paying.” You murmur absent-mindedly, counting the coins. Billy's hand appears in front of you, putting them aside.

“Put that away.”

You sigh, meeting his gaze. "Billy."

He casually slides the milkshake in front of you, his half-lidded eyes locked on yours, completely unfazed by your feeble attempts to resist. The purple lights of the diner cast a soft glow, highlighting his features and making his mustache stand out more than usual. You can't help but marvel at how effortlessly handsome he always looks. Meanwhile, you feel out of place in your loose jumper, with no makeup and your hair barely combed.

You notice that there is only one straw in the milkshake. “Oh, they didn’t bring another one.”

“It’s fine. Drink it,” his features shifting to an amused look.  “Unless it grosses you out.” 

“No, no! Of course not.” you hastily assure him before bringing the straw to your lips. The rich taste of chocolate floods your senses with a pleasant sensation, despite your lack of hunger. You resist the temptation to indulge in a bit of the whipped cream from the top of the milkshake.

“Feel better today?” he asks as he watches you, leaning back against the bench.

“Uh, yes. A bit better.” you lie, your eyes on the table. You’re unable to look at him.

You instinctively tighten your grip on the cold glass of the milkshake, startled by the sudden warmth of his palm on your forehead. 

“Yeah. No fever, anyway,” he says.

“How did you do on the test yesterday?” you ask instead, eager to change the topic.

Billy leans forward, resting his elbows on the table as he brings the milkshake closer to himself, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Eh, not bad. I think I passed," he replies before taking a sip from the straw. “Jesus, this shit is sweet as hell.” he mutters, peering down at the milkshake as if it personally wronged him.

You let out a soft laugh at his expression. When you sat down, he asked you what flavor you liked and ordered it without hesitation. You realize with a pang of guilt that you hadn't even bothered to ask him if he liked it. 

“Sorry… too much?”

“Nah, it’s fine. Just a bit sweet.” he pushes the milkshake toward you, your fingers brushing each other as you take the glass. “I’m more of a savory type of guy.”

"Oh," you sheepishly respond, brushing your thumb against the cold glass to clear away some moisture. “I’m more of a sweet type of girl.”

"You are," he says, his voice carrying a subtle warmth that catches your attention. 

You lift your gaze toward him, struck by the underlying tone in his words. Billy dips his pinky in the whipped cream and brings it to his mouth. Red lips suck around the skin, his tongue licking the whipped cream away. You take a sip of the milkshake to distract yourself from the stirring movement in your lower belly. 

“So what’s your favorite?” he then casually asks, as if he didn’t just do the most provocative thing ever. 

“My what?” you ask as if coming back to reality. 

“Your favorite dessert.”

“Oh uhm, I guess my mom’s tiramisu,” you stop to think about all the summers spent eating your mom’s tiramisu in the back of your house in the garden, the happy memory becoming bittersweet. “I didn’t like it when I was younger, I used to make all of those faces when I tasted the coffee.” Billy snorts a soft laugh as he looks at you. “She used to make it all the time when it was warm outside.” you say as you play with the straw.”

“You know how to make it?”

“Yes. She taught me.” 

“You’ll have to make me one, someday.” 

You meet his eyes, still intently on you, and you lower your gaze while stretching your lips into a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. How you wish there was a chance to do this. 

“What’s yours?” you ask instead, ignoring how your heart is aching.

Billy hums thoughtfully, dragging the milkshake toward him. “I’d say the tacos from the Mexican joint in Mission Beach. Hands down.”

“What do they put in them?” 

Billy sucks on the straw before setting the glass aside. “Okay, so picture this,” he leans his elbows on the table. “They have this way of cooking the beef, it’s tender and juicy ‘cause they dip it in the stew, and it’s seasoned just right." 

A smile slowly spreads on your face without you realizing it as he gets enthusiastic about it.

“Then they sprinkle some lime on it.” he mimics the sprinkling, his eyes squinting a tiny bit. "And then there's the crunch of the shell, just crispy enough to contrast with the beef. Then they top it with cheese and jalapeños. Man,” you giggle as he lightly slaps his palm on the table. He turns his head to the side, momentarily lost in thought as he contemplates. “It’s something else.” 

“It sounds delicious.” you nod, a laugh escaping your lips.

As Billy looks back at you, his face is closer to yours as you leaned on the table too. His blue eyes bore into yours. “It’s five-star type of food, babe. Unmatched.” 

His voice is warm like dripping honey and your stomach flips, his half-lidded gaze trapping you there is both charming and dangerous. You’re scared of the things your body is feeling.

“I wish I could try it.” 

“You will. Told you I would take you there.”

He scans your face, catching each of your reactions from up close as your breath hitches in your throat. “I thought you were joking.” 

“I never was.”

You wonder what would happen if you just listened to your instincts right now. If only he lifted the sleeves of your sweater, he’d see the goosebumps on your arms. If he could press his ear to your chest, he’d hear your heart racing. But following your instincts feels too risky. A little voice inside reminds you that all this chemistry between you two might just be in your head. You're building castles in the air; your deluded heart is playing tricks on you. Tina’s voice chimes in too: “What would a guy like him want with someone like you?” So, you pull away, and as you do, your heartbeat slows down a little.

You clear your voice, grabbing the milkshake. “Anyway, I better get home soon. It’s almost ten.” 

With only a little milkshake left, you finish it without meeting his gaze, deciding to switch the topic to how you caught up with homework while staying at home. He doesn’t comment on it, biting into it and telling you about the history test on that Wednesday.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” he asks you once on the drive home.

He lowers the volume of the radio, Eagles’ ‘Take it Easy’ reduced to background noise. You hesitate. You don’t know how to tell him. You’ve never been good at cutting ties with people. You’ve never been ready. You never will be.

“I’m just not in a good place right now.”

"Yeah, I gathered that much," Billy responds, his voice low and steady. "But what's got you feeling this way?"

You figure that the best way is to be straightforward, though. 

“I know this might sound weird," you begin, already feeling a pang of regret for how you're about to phrase it. Your nails press into the palm of your hands as you twist them together, your eyes locked on the shifting scenery outside. “You’ll probably don’t understand it. But I think we have to stop seeing each other. Hanging around together.”  

At first, your words hang heavy in the air, met only with silence that feels like a weight on your chest. You can't help but replay what you just said in your mind, wondering if you came off too harshly. It's a familiar feeling, the aftermath of saying something you can't take back, and in this moment, it feels far too aggressive.

As you battle with yourself, searching desperately for the right words to soften the blow, you find that every script you rehearsed in your head falls short. Billy's silence only adds to your internal turmoil, leaving you mentally slapping yourself for the brutal way you phrased it.

Billy licks his lips. “If I did something wrong,” he starts.

“No, it’s not that.”

“...Or if I made you feel uncomfortable, you gotta tell me.”

“No. Billy, please don’t think that. You haven’t done anything wrong.” you interject quickly, reaching out to touch his arm in reassurance.

He glances at you briefly before returning his gaze to the road, his expression unreadable. The tension in the car is palpable as he waits for you to explain further.

“I just…” you begin, running a hand through your hair in a nervous gesture. “I don’t think it’s good for you to be around me."

"Huh," he responds, his tone indicating he finds your reasoning perplexing. "What does that mean?"

You begin cautiously, choosing your words carefully, "I'm just not... I'm not exactly the embodiment of happiness, you know? And I don't want to bring you down with me."

"You think you're gonna bring me down?" 

You nod slowly, unable to meet his gaze. "I just don't want to drag you into my mess," you admit quietly. “I have a lot to deal with myself. Please believe me when I say that it’s not a good idea.”

"That's it? That's why you think we should stop hanging out?" Billy's voice carries a blend of disbelief and skepticism as if he's attempting to peel back the layers of your explanation.

His response catches you off guard. Shouldn't your reason suffice? After all, it's what led to the end of friendships with Nancy and Claire. They understood and let you go. And deep down, you understand that too.

“No, it’s not just that…” you feel increasingly frustrated with the situation, it feels harder than you anticipated.

"Hey, if I'm not your cup of tea, or if I'm making you feel awkward, just say the word. No hard feelings. We can't all be everyone's favorite flavor. But let's keep it real, yeah?"

"No, it's not that at all, Billy!" you blurt out, your voice rising slightly with surprise. "I like you. I really do," you continue, your voice softening as shyness creeps in at the urgency of your confession. As you speak, Billy pulls the car to a stop in front of your place. "More than anyone else in this whole town."

Billy doesn’t talk for what seems like an eternity. You don’t dare to look at him. After almost a minute, he finally breaks the silence. “Okay, what is it, then?”

“It’s just…wrong.”

“Wrong?” he says. “Look, it’s not like I have a girlfriend and I’m ditching her to hang out with you or something.”

“Well, Tina doesn’t seem to be on the same page,” you mumble to yourself out of instinct. 

Billy frowns. “What?”

That’s when you realize you talked out loud. You sigh, looking out of the window. You really hoped to avoid this conversation. It just feels wrong to use a lame excuse. You don’t wanna do that. It’s not working, anyway. You figure the best way to put it without having to unravel the whole thing. 

“I don’t know what you guys are to each other-…”

“I fucked her once. That’s it.” 

You wince at his words, carrying on. “...but she made pretty clear that I should stay away from you.”

At first you’re met with silence, but then Billy's reaction is a mix of disbelief and irritation. He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “She's nuts," he mutters, his tone laced with frustration. "Can't believe her. Jesus."

As you fidget with your hands in your lap, a sense of resignation washes over you. That doesn’t change things. You made up your mind already. They succeeded pretty well in making you see things for what they are. In a very sadistic way, that’s for sure. It is the reality nonetheless.

“Listen, don’t pay attention to her.”  

You let out a bitter chuckle. “It’s kinda hard, she’s really committed to making my life a living hell.”

Billy's expression shifts, his gaze now fixed on you with newfound seriousness. “What do you mean?” 

“Nothing, just…” you sigh. “It’s just what I said. Bottom line is, I’m not good for you, Billy. I’m messed up and I can’t give anything good. You should be spending time with people who are stable, who have something to offer.”

Billy turns his attention back to the trailer ahead. You can practically see the gears turning in his head as he pieces together the puzzle. Before you can prepare yourself, he's already connecting the dots.

He scratches his chin, then looks back at you. “Does it have to do with you ditching school for the past days?” his tone calm but unwavering.

Your answer is instinctive and almost too immediate. "No, that's..." you start, but Billy cuts you off with a knowing look.

“Don't lie to me.”

You know if there’s one thing he doesn’t like, it’s when people lie to him. He told you that before. There is no way out of this. If anything surprises you about Billy, it’s his emotional intelligence. His ability to understand what you feel just like that. How he easily and often picks up what’s on your mind. You explain everything that happened to him, noticing how his face hardens progressively as you recount the events that have weighed heavily on you. From that moment Tina deliberately tripped you up in gym class, sending you sprawling to the ground in front of everyone, to the tense confrontation in the locker room. You feel drained after talking, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. 

“Fuck those bitches.” he growls, his voice thick with anger. 

“They’re right though. We really are different.”

“Different in what? I’m a guy, you’re a girl. But then?” 

“It’s not about that,” you mumble, your eyes fixed on the window.

“Well, tell you what, I like spending time with you. That’s all I know,” you turn in surprise at how bluntly he said those words. “Did we ever argue or anything?”

You think back on all the times you've spent together. Whenever you were with him, it felt like everything else faded away, and it was just the two of you against the world. There was never any arguing or discord between you; instead, he had a knack for making you forget about any troubles or worries you had. Being with him was like finding a safe haven, a place where you could just be yourself and feel at peace.

“No,” you admit, feeling a knot form in your throat.

“Do you feel any different when it’s just you and me?”

“No.”

“Are you ever bored when we hang out?”

“No, never.” you breathe out, shaking your head.

“Me neither. So it’s sorted.”

“Billy, I’m…I’m complicated. My life is complicated.” 

He shrugs, shifting in his seat. “I like complicated.” 

Billy's stubbornness despite the doors you're trying to close between you is overwhelming both in the best and worst way.

“I just don't think you really know what you're doing," you protest weakly, unable to shake the nagging doubts that linger in the back of your mind.

“Pretty sure I do.”

“Billy,” heat rises in your cheeks as shame gnaws at your insides, your heart weighing heavy. It's hard for you to acknowledge it, let alone put it into words. “Look at me,” you point at yourself, your throat burning.

Billy's eyes scan your face, a hint of amusement dancing in his features. “I am.”

You shake your head, your throat feels ready to burst from how much it hurts. “No. Look at you, then look at me. Look at this,” you gesture toward the darkened trailer.

“You serious?”

“I am. Trust me, you don’t want to…”

“Hey, hey. Sweetheart. Come on, now. Look at me.”

You realize Billy has leaned over the console as he gently grasps your chin. “I don’t care. All I know is that I like you, alright? I don’t give a shit about the rest.”

His words cut through you, threatening to shatter the fragile barrier holding your emotions at bay. His thumb delicately traces the curve of your chin as his piercing blue eyes search yours. Frozen in place, you dare not move or speak, afraid that the slightest exhale might betray the storm of emotions raging within you.

“You hear me?” he drops his head slightly, as he softly shakes your chin to get your attention, his eyes finding yours. “I don’t care.”

You content to nod, a tear breaking free and running down your cheek. Billy licks his lips, his face inching closer to yours. “C’mere.”

He leans in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that feels as ancient as time itself, as though you've shared this in a thousand other lives. It's tender, lingering, filled with an unspoken longing that resonates deep within you. As you lose yourself in the kiss, his breath dances with yours, and you taste tobacco, mint and something distinctly him on his tongue, sending a wave of euphoria through you. Your hand instinctively rises, fingers curling gently around the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, yearning for more. Your heart is beating so fast you swear it’s going to explode. As you break the kiss first in search of oxygen, you’re vaguely aware of his mouth seeking yours, his face tilting forward, his half-open eyes unfocused. His fingers travel on the back of your neck, curling around it and pressing your lips more firmly against his. It’s so good that it doesn’t feel real, your body is the only thing you're aware of. It's ablaze, your heart thundering in your chest, your breath resonating in the car. But he’s here too, he’s real. Real as one can be when you feel his hot skin against your fingers where you’re holding his shirt, as his mustache tickles your mouth, then your cheek, your neck.

He’s certainly real when his voice comes as a muffled and open-mouthed whisper against your skin, buried between your neck and your hair between kisses.

“God, baby.”

It’s a soft plead, a gentle need that swells your heart. Your fingers are tangled through his curls at the nape of his neck. They’re as soft as you imagined them. You could’ve never imagined one day your fingers would run through them. His mouth finds yours again, your senses filled with the scent of him and you can’t help yourself and rest your hand on his cheek, wanting to feel him more. Time is not something tangible anymore. You don’t know how long elapses. It may be minutes, it may be hours. You just can’t seem to get enough of each other to finally break apart. Nothing has ever made you feel so good in a long time. That’s why you don’t question your tongue tangling with his, his hand searching for skin as it ventures beneath your jacket and settles on your waist, warm and big. 

The loud thud of thunder outside makes you jump slightly on the seat, and with the realization that you must get inside, you slowly but finally break apart from him. 

“I have to go.” you manage to say as his lips kiss your cheek and the corner of your eye instead. 

His breath fans against your skin, a gentle caress that makes you shiver. Billy's eyes, still glazed with desire, slowly refocus as he registers your words. There's a flicker of disappointment, but he nods in understanding. 

“Yeah. Yeah, you better get inside,” he replies in a husky voice, his eyes roaming over your face. 

His lips are red and swollen with your kisses, you can’t help but steal another kiss which her eagerly accepts, planting a couple more against your mouth. They’re not as deep but full of meaning, resonating in the air. 

“Call me tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yes, I will,” you mumble, your cheek feeling red as you internally wish you could stay with the him forever.  

As you leave the car, the cold rain immediately envelopes you, sending shivers down your spine. The rain soaks through your clothes as you navigate through the darkness. As you reach the door, you steal one last look at Billy's car, watching as he drives away into the night, the memory of his touch still lingering on your lips.

[daceydeath]

The Fighter

Pairing: Boxer Changbin x reader Word Count: 2.1K Genre: Smut Central 🔞 Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Swearing, Explicit Activities, Mentions of Injuries, Blood

Doing a favor for your friend Wooyoung to be the ring girl for one of his underground fights has some very good perks and it is not just the money.

Damn Wooyoung, this was entirely his fault. It’s just one fight. I just need you to hold up the round numbers for me he said, it won't be hard just wear your tightest dress and heels it’s an easy $300 cash with no questions asked. You couldn’t fault him that it was easy the only thing you actually needed to know was how to count but you hadn’t signed up for the amount of sleazy dickhead who were going to try to grope you every time you grabbed a card or moved around the outside of the makeshift ring.

Woo had been “promoting” these underground fights for years; he and a few of his friends each had their own fighters who they pitted against each other with way overblown odds and then split the profits between the fighters in each bout and their ‘managers’. It was shady as hell but it wasn’t your problem if someone figured them out. Tonight was not different to the normal fights Wooyoung crowing about San and how tough a fighter he was, Hyunjin ranting on about Changbin’s stellar win records it was hard not to get swept up in the the theatrics of it all, the other half dozen guys that were listed on the bill you had never met or heard of but that didn’t stop you agreeing on the fast and easy cash.

“Well you looked insanely hot” Wooyoung grinned, his voice more on the suggestive side as you walked into the changing rooms post fight to look over San’s injuries. You knew he had already showered if his slightly damp fluffy hair was anything to go by your hands hovering over his split lip. “You made the crowd bet more looking like you were a potential prize”.

“Well I’m glad I could help you out, I just wish your clientele were just way less disgusting” you rolled your eyes taking the gauze that he already held in his hand and wetting it with cold water to wipe the drying blood away.

“You don’t have to” San started tilting his head so he could look up at you, even half dressed he was as sweet as ever to you..

“I know Sannie, but let me” You smiled softly “You’re too pretty to get a scar”. San tried to smile in return only to wince as he tugged the tear in his plump lower lip. After dabbing and putting on ointment you left the two of them to go change into jeans and an oversize shirt so that you could go more unnoticed in the testosterone filled gym.

“Are you going to take care of Binnie too?” Hyunjin called teasingly from a few benches away in the large changing room. Making you flush slightly, you had known Hyunjin for quite a while but you had only met Changbin once before the implication that laced his tone was hard to miss.

“Hyunjin, are you really admitting you’re as useless as Woo?” you smirked looking over at him as Wooyoung made an indignant noise and San laughed richly.

“Fuck off, just thought if you’re so worried about pretty boys you would be worried about Binnie too” he theatrically waved his arms gesturing towards Changbin’s bruised cheek and swelling eye “But if it’s just certain pretty boys then that’s my bad” he chuckled cheekily seeing your flustered expression. You didn’t give him a response you just finished cleaning up San’s knuckles in silence, disinfecting the scrapes and checking for swelling before he went and finished cleaning himself up. Leaving you in the changing room with just Changbin who had also showered by the look of it since he was towel drying his hair while Woo and Hyunjin left talking about the cuts for the night.

“Did you actually need any help Changbin?” You asked quietly, feeling awkward.

“If you wouldn’t mind? I can’t see that well with only one eye” He smiled almost shyly even though you were alone.

“Oh, um… sure” you smiled nervously in return making your way over to him. Each fighter had their own med kits because each of them fought in different ways San often fought in bare knuckle fights, either boxing or more MMA styled but Changbin always boxed in gloves so he was far more bruised and less cut up than San had been. Wetting some gauze you dabbed around his eye to remove the dried blood from a graze on his cheek bone trying hard not to press too hard on the bruised flesh before you snapped a cooling gel patch and held it to his face.

“Can you hold this here while I poke around that bruise on your side?” you whispered waiting for him to answer but he just moved his calloused hand to almost cover yours as he took over from you. The contact made you feel hot all over.

“I can do my ribs if you want to get back to Wooyoung and Hyunjin” he swallowed thickly, tilting his head to look you in the eye.

“I already agreed to help, didn't I?” you smiled softly noticing how pretty his eyes were, well one was the other was under the cold pack. Pressing your fingers against his ribs he didn’t hiss or grunt in pain which you took as a good sign that nothing was broken after running your hand across the entire of the ribs on that side of his torso.

“Fuck you are so beautiful” Changbin breathed so quietly you nearly missed it but when you stepped back from him the feel of his hot skin under your palm making your palm begin to tingle now that his skin was no longer under his touch he was looking at your with an unreadable expression. “Tell me to stop and I will”.

Before you could ask him what you meant he pulled you harshly into his lap and kissed you roughly, his plump lips gliding across yours as you gasped, his tongue slipping between your teeth to tangle with yours. You instinctively wrapped your hands around the back of his neck, one tangling into the hair at the back of his head tugging at it gently making a low rumbling groan leaving his chest. Changbin’s hands held your hips in a bruising grip his hands under your large shirt, his touch making goosebumps erupt across your body.

“Tell me to stop” he growled darkly his voice hoarse.

“I don’t want to” you gasped again his lips pressing against your neck messily his tongue tracing your skin.

“If you don’t stop me I’m going to fuck you right here and I dont care who sees” he mumbled against you neck his teeth grazing your flesh before he left a soft bite on your flesh.

“Stop” you whimpered “I don’t want people to see me like that”.

“So I can fuck you just not in public” Changbin smirked pulling your lips back to his to give you another searing kiss “Good to know baby”. 

You squeaked as he lifted you easily his chiseled pecs flexing against you while he moved you towards the back of the change room where one of the storage rooms were kicking the door closed behind him he pressed you against the cool wood, his lips moving to reattach to yours in a much deeper kiss, his tongue taking its time exploring your mouth as he pressed his wide frame against you keeping you firmly in place. Changbin was gentle as his hands mapped your upper body, his hands lightly squeezing your arse before he ran them up the sides of your body to cradle your face in his palms. You could hear commotion out in the change room as two more fighters entered with their managers, one arguing with Wooyoung about money making to stiffen in Changbin’s grasp.

“They won’t see us, they might hear us but that's not the point” Changbin smirked against your lips before he lowered you to the ground moving to tug your t-shirt over your head as he moved the pair of you backwards towards a stack of safety mats. “Even if they come in they won’t see you”. 

You let him take control pressing you against a shelf beside the mats as he moved to kiss his way down your body, sucking and marking his way down the valley of your breast before stopping to tease your nipples through your mesh bra. Sucking one through the fabric you tried to hold back your moan when his teeth scraped against the pebbling nub his fingers tweaking and pulling on the other. He continued down your body unzipping your jean and helping your shimmying them down your legs and off kneeling before you and putting your leg over his shoulder. 

“Fuck bet you taste sweet too” he grinned cheekily pressing his fingers against the damp fabric that still covered you.

“Please don’t tease me” you whimpered jolts of pleasure already coursing through you from the slow drag of his fingers against your cloth covered clit.

“Such a good baby using her manners” Changbin murmured as he let forward tracing his tongue over the fabric and making you whine in the back of your throat. Sliding the fabric aside with his thick fingers he gave you one slow lick through your folds before sucking your clit between his lips making you yelp. 

“Oh my god” you breathed letting your head fall back against the shelf while Changbin started eating you out in earnest, his tongue circling and flicking at your clit before pushing inside you to lick your velvet walls. Whimpers fell from your lips as you began grinding yourself on his face, his nose rubbing so perfectly against your nub everytime his tongue entered you made you see stars and it took an embarrassingly short time for you to begin tugging at his hair and quietly mewling.

“Shit you taste good” he groaned happily continuing his assault on your folds slurping and sucking at your core to drink every drop of your arousal that he could.

“I’m so close” you wailed, forgetting to be quiet and that someone could hear you. Changbin pulled his face away from you, licking his lips to remove the last of your essence as you putted and whined only to turn you around and bend you over the stack of mats. His sweatpants falling around his ankles he spread your folds with the tip of his cock smearing himself with your dripping juices before slowly pushing into your waiting hole. Your mouth fell open with a silent cry as his thick cock stretched you open slowly splitting you in half in the most pleasurable way before bottoming out against your cervix.

“So tight, so god damn tight” Changbin muttered panting slightly as you felt your walls begin to flutter around him slightly “you’re perfect, so fucking perfect” he continued to praise you until you were about to beg him to start fucking you. Changbin’s hips started rolling carefully letting you adjust to him before he started snapping his hips harder and faster each time making your thighs jiggle with every smack of his hips against your arse. 

“Please Chagbin please” you moaned, not sure what you were asking him for but needing to chase the pleasure that was beginning to burn in your veins.

“I got you baby” he grunted, his voice strained, pushing you down with his hand between your shoulder blades to change his angle and making you sob in pleasure. You could feel him even deeper inside you hitting the spot that made your legs shake with each thrust.

“Fuck… Changbin” you cried your eyes rolling back in your head as you got closer and closer to your orgasm.

“I know baby, cum on my cock yeah? Let me feel how much you love my cock” he panted through clenched teeth hissing every time your walls tightened around him.

“Changbin” You keened as your walls fluttered around him tightly and your vision went white hearing him growl gutterelly as he filled you with his warm seed his breathing heavy as he leant forward over you to kiss your shoulders as he continued thrusting shallowly to prolong both of your orgasms. You swallowed hard feeling him slowly pull himself from you and pull your underwear back into place keeping his cum safe inside you.

“So um…” he started a little unsure as he pulled his pants back up and bent down to grab your jeans. “Can I take you out?”.

“On a date?” you blinked slowly at him unsure why you now felt a little awkward.

“Yeah, I mean I’d love to take you out to grab something to eat now too if you want. To thank you for the patch up” he smiled brilliantly, taking your hand in his and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“You know I would love that too” you grinned trying not to giggle before a banging on the door interrupted you and Hyunjin started yelling at Wooyoung to leave you alone making you hide your face in your hands and Changbin flush pink.

a/n: Thank you for reading as always my lovelies your likes, reblogs, comments and questions keep he well fed xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz @armystay89 @damnyouficc @roamingpolar

@tara-skyhold @bakedlilgoonie @krishastumblernow @mrsseals16 @fawnpeaks

@leeknowinggg @tanzen-ist-gold @uno7 @ocean-dreamer-sky-chaser

[choccorin]

meet-cute !

tags. fluff. sakura haruka x gender-neutral!reader.

cw. none!

a/n. it's my first time writing so feel free to give your opinions on my mailbox. :]

“c'mon, just get down here you damn cat. ” sakura grumbles while trying to reach for the hissing kitten on the tree branch.

when sakura decided to go on an early morning patrol, he passed by this meowing cat that was stranded on a tree branch in a playground. sakura felt bad for the small kitten so he decided to help it, only thing is, sakura isn't really good with cats.

which led to this laughable situation. sakura has his arms reached out for the kitten but it just keeps hissing at him. if suo and the others see him like this, they definitely won't let him live this down, he thought.

he wants to leave it but he's worries that it might get hurt when it jumps down, can kittens get hurt after jumping off a tree?? he said in his mind.

begrudgingly, he climbs up the tree and tries to reach for the kitten, who scoots away from him while hissing.

as you were walking on your way to school, you see a black and white hair colored boy climbing a tree, and he seems to be reaching for a kitten.

“is he crazy? he's definitely scaring it more by reaching for it like a claw from a claw machine” you softly scoffed.

sakura finally manages to grab a hold of the kitten but it suddenly jumped off his grasp and on to his face, scratching it, which causes him to fall down the tree.

“ oh my god, are you okay!?” you yelled while rushing to him.

you crouched down and looked down at the boy who's covering his face while mumbling curses,

“ uhm, are you okay .. sir?” you asked

sakura took his hands away from his face and opened his eyes, he looked at you with the sun hitting the back of your head. he got surprised on seeing a person so close to his face that he abruptly sits up, causing the two of you to head bump each other.

“ow! what is wrong wit- oh my god, you're face!” you yelped while holding your forehead

“huh?! what's wrong with my face?!” sakura looked at you

“it's bleeding!” you reached for the mini first-aid in your bag, “c'mon, i'll disinfect it.” you reached for his wrist and pull him on to a near bench.

both of you are now sitting on a bench, and you're busy disinfecting the scratches on his face.

why is his face so red? does he have a fever or something? you thought looking at the boy who was as red as a tomato.

“do you have a fever?” you asked him

“n-no .. ” he mumbled, looking away

“okay then ..” you smiled, “there, i'm done disinfecting it, now i just need to add some ointment, okay?”

sakura nods, why are you being so nice time, he's a random stranger for god's sake, he thinks while looking at you preparing the ointment. he wanted to deny you treating him but you were gripping on his wrist and looking at him with your pretty eyes that he just couldn't reject you.

“this might sting a bit” you say as you gently add ointment to the scratches, “and .. i'm done!”

“you'll be okay now” you smiled at him which causes sakura to blush even more.

“thank you, i guess ..” he mumbles

“you're welcome, oh and i'm (your name) by the way, nice to meet you!” you reach out your hand to give him a handshake.

“i'm s-sakura haruka” he hesitantly gives you a handshake, “pleasure to meet you.” he blushes.

sakura .. what a pretty name, it suits his pretty face, you thought. you reach for your phone and looked at the time, shoot i'm gonna be late.

you packed your things and stood up, “i'll be going now, get well soon, sakura!” you beamed at him, waving while jogging away

“y-yeah .. bye” he waved, still sitting on the bench.

i hope i get to meet them again, you both thought to yourselves.

afterwards, sakura went to school, and his friends were shocked to see his face. nirei kept asking him if he's okay, while the others just laughed at him as he explains what happened. (he leaves out the part where you helped him, he's shy.)

[fbfh]

Do you still write for Dave Lizewski? I loved what you've written for him so far!

FUCK yes I do. Listen there's a lot I could say about Dave, but one thing that is NEVER addressed is how deeply rooted and repressed his mommy issues are. I'm sorry, your mom dies in front of you and you're just... not affected by it??? bullshit!!!!!!! Dave CRAVES a soft gentle touch, a divine feminine aura. Even if you're not a girl, if you just take care of him gently and look at him with a soft fondness he will fold SO fast. and yes having a nice rack (while not necessary) will help with this a lot. and by a nice rack I mean literally just having anything on your chest. flat tits, huge tits, lopsided tits, fake tits, real tits, literally ANYTHING. even if your tits are practically nonexistent he WILL still be trying to grope and suck on them. and he WILL succeed. nothing in this world can stop this boy from drooling over you.

after a particularly long night full of stopping some muggers, making sure the town drunk doesn't fight anyone, and helping some college girls get home safe, he shows up at your place, a little bumped and bruised but not majorly injured. you greet him with this soft, understanding smile and bring him up to your bathroom. It's all clean and soapy and smells like you, and he immediately starts to relax. you help him take off his suit and he tries not to get hard from the feeling of your warm hands getting him out of his suit and exposing his skin to the cool air. you start inspecting him to see how bad he's hurt - because of all his nerve damage he doesn't always notice how bad his injuries are.

you smooth his hair and praise him, listen to him talk about his night patrolling the neighborhood. worry flashes across across your face as you see the scratches all over his face and arms.

"Oh, uh, Mrs. Landsberg's cat got stuck..." He trails off sheepishly while you smile and put disinfectant on his nicks and scrapes.

"Look at you, helping little old ladies and rescuing cats from trees." you coo playfully.

"Well, she got stuck in the attic crawl space, but..." he shrugs with another blush, feeling all proud and sheepish from your praise.

"Close enough."

you press a kiss to his nose.

"now all you need is a job at the daily planet."

Dave was so sore and tired after tonight that he felt like he'd need days to recover. but after 10 minutes with you, you already have him laughing and feeling like himself again. Dave doesn't know what he did to luck out and have you in his life, but he thinks about you all the time. If he's not physically with you (or texting you or calling you or snapping you or lurking on your social media accounts or reading through your old texts or looking through the folder of pictures and videos he has of you saved in his phone or-) he's thinking about you all the time. he even dreams about you every night. no matter how much time he spends with you, he always wants more. Dave is definitely in the sex isn't enough I need to crawl inside your skin club.

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | 2.3k | tags: rockstar!eddie, addiction, rehab, journaling, only Eddie's entries turn into letters to Steve | Part 2 to Carry You | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost by @yournowheregirl | AO3)

Edited for a big shout out to @steves-strapcollection whose lovely OC has a little cameo here. If you want to know who Tig is, you can find out here. Spoiler: he's amazing and we love him.

Day 0

Dear Steve,

Hi Stevie,

Apparently, it's not good to "bottle up" your feelings. They say it makes drinking or drugs or any other addiction so tempting. It makes it easier to keep all that stuff inside you and let it fester until you need more and more of whatever it is that helps you cope. So the first rule of rehab: Talk, don't take.

That's a long way of saying I need to keep a journal like a 13-year-old girl with her first crush. It's either that or a daily crying session with the other "inmates" here, and I'd rather not have to tell Terry the old gossip my own tragic sob story. She already told me the life stories of two other patients here at dinner.

Instead, I decided to write to you. You're the one person I regret the most pushing away, and even though you'll probably never see this, it feels good to tell you these things now. Like a dry run. Because, baby, when I get out of here, I swear I will let you in. I won't make the same mistakes.

You will never go another day without knowing how much you mean to me.

How much I love you.

You only left an hour ago and I already miss you. I can't believe I've survived six months without you. Well, I barely did. I wish I could call you, but phone privileges are only for those who make it through their first week here.

I know we chose this center together knowing that they don't allow visitors for at least three weeks. Maybe longer if my therapist says I'm not ready. Fuck, three weeks didn't sound so bad when we talked about it, but now? In this ugly, impersonal room that smells clean but is totally clinical. You know, that mix of disinfectant and sterile air with a hint of medication lingering in the background. It sounds like an eternity and then some.

Nothing here feels comfortable or warm, and I miss your face so much it physically hurts.

But I promised myself I'd do whatever it took. For you and Wayne, for the boys and the kids.

So, day 0, the journey begins.

Fuck, I almost forgot: I'm supposed to answer three questions every day.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

See above. I miss you, that's how I am. I want this to be over. I hate that I'm here and even more that I'm the one who got me here. I feel like a fuckup. It's hard not to when I see how I've ruined everything good in my life. But then I remember the way you kissed me goodbye. The smile on your face when you told me how proud you were of me. The way you kissed my hand because you couldn't let go and whispered, "I'll see you soon," and I want to have hope.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Get through the day without doing anything I'll regret.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

You. That you didn't give up on me. (And the Gummi Bears you hid at the bottom of the bag, you minx. Thank you.)

Day 4

Sweetheart,

I'm not doing so well. It's hard. Who am I kidding? It sucks. My body hurts from how much I want to use. My brain is so very loud, Stevie. So, so loud. I try to remember how you managed to calm me down when my brain got like this. What helped the most was to wear me out by fucking me senseless, but that's not an option. But maybe I will try to go for a walk or even do some of those exercises you always tried to get me to do. The ones that usually led to fucking because I could never behave.

My therapist is nice. Her name is Laura, and so far she's taking everything I throw at her in stride. Talking to her feels like pulling my own teeth and I feel like shit afterwards, but I sleep better. Who would have thought, huh?

I miss you.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Not good. I wonder if I can really do this. It doesn't feel like it right now. I'm afraid I won't make it. That I will screw up again. That if I do, it'll kill me and I'll be grateful because I couldn't live with myself if I did.

I don't want to die, Stevie.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Talk to the weird kid who always sits by himself during meals. He looks lost. Maybe he knows DnD.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Still you. Every day. Wayne, for taking me in when I felt like a failure too. Unlovable. Worthless. He never stopped believing in me. Even when I gave him every reason not to. I don't know how I deserve him or you, but I am so fucking grateful.

Day 7

Fuck, I missed your voice. God. I'm sorry I lost it like that. I didn't want the first thing you heard from me after a week apart to be me ugly sobbing into the phone.

I wanted to tell you so many things. I had a plan, you know? But hearing your voice when you said, "Hi, baby," it just broke me. You sounded like you missed me too, like you were relieved to hear my voice too, and you didn't even realize how scared I was that you wouldn't.

We just hung up, but I want to call you again. Just to hear you breathing on the other side so I know you're still there. Waiting for me. Your hand still gripping mine so I wouldn't get lost.

You said, "I'll hear you tomorrow," like it was set in stone, no doubt about it. It made me feel, fuck, I don't even know. Like this is real. I didn't die on that bathroom floor, and you giving me another chance isn't some kind of hallucination or afterlife dream.

I'm rambling, sorry. Even in writing I can't help it.

One day I'll write it all down in a way that makes sense, I promise.

I love how patient you are with me. No one has ever been. I was always too loud, too distracted, too weird, too complicated, too much. But not to you.

I wish you were here to take me in your arms, it's hard not to fall apart without you holding me together.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Better. Fucking determined to get through this and get back to you. Still scared.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Have a real conversation with you without breaking down on the phone. Here's to hoping. Detoxing and being sober has given me a hair trigger on my emotions, it seems.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Your patience. Your grace. Your voice in my ear. That you still haven't given up on me. DnD, for giving me a purpose when I needed one, a tool to give others the help I so desperately wanted. The weird kid's name is Alex, and he does know DnD. We'll try to find more people for a campaign.

Day 16

Steve, baby,

I am so fucking sorry. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. I'm such an asshole. Please pick up the phone. I need to tell you how sorry I am. I didn't mean it, I was just scared. When you said that maybe Laura was right and you shouldn't come to see me next week if I wasn't ready, I thought you didn't want me anymore. That you finally got tired of holding my hand and watching me do those damn baby steps. It's been over two weeks, why am I not better? Why am I not done with this shit?

I want to be done, I swear.

Please don't leave me.

Please pick up the phone.

Please, please, please.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Fuck this shit, what good is it if I keep hurting you?

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Stop being a fucking asshole.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

I want it to be you, but I'm not sure I even have you in my life anymore.

Day 23

Stevie,

I'm scared. Isn't this the stupidest thing you've ever heard? A few days ago I begged to see you. Fuck, I was so desperate to see you that I almost ruined everything. I'm still sorry, I hope you know that. I know, I know, you said that it's okay and that it can't be all smooth sailing, that you forgive me. That you'll keep forgiving me as long as I keep coming back to talk to you, to explain, to show you that I mean it.

And now I've got the all clear for you to come and see me, and I'm too scared to tell you.

I'm still not the man I want to be. The man who deserves someone like you.

Laura told me that love isn't something you deserve, it's something freely given. We don't decide if someone can love us, only they do. And that I have to stop pushing people away because I'm convinced they can't love me. It's their choice and I shouldn't try to take it away from them.

I think about this a lot.

I want to let you love me, I do. It's just hard for me to understand why you would want to do that at all. It's something Laura wants to work on with me as well.

There is so much work to do. I hate to bother you with it. To make it your problem. I wanted to come in here and two weeks later walk out a new man. A better one. One you can love easily and who can love you back in a way you can understand. A man Wayne can be proud to call his son. A man Gareth and Jeff and Grant want to have as a friend, as a bandmate. A man the kids can look up to as much as they look up to you.

Laura said I should take the hand you are holding out to me. It's a decision I make every day. I took it in the hospital. I took it when you drove me here.

I should take it by letting you in, letting you see the work in progress that I am right now.

I think I will call you after dinner to tell you.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Fuck if I know. It's a lot to feel when you've numbed your feelings for so long. I remember why I did it, but I won't do it again, I'll learn to deal with it.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Take you in my arms and hold you. Let myself be held by you.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Your hand in mine. The thought of you that keeps me going. Your bravery. Dustin and Mike and Will and Lucas. They call me all the time, you know. Asking me about my first campaign here, telling me about their lives. Keeping in touch, even though I failed them almost as much as my old man did me.

Day 31

Steve, my love,

You're on your way to pick me up and I can't believe we made it here. It's not done, it probably never will be. I know that now. I have to keep working on myself and being well. But it's so fucking worth it, Stevie.

I'm glad that Laura agreed to stay my therapist even if I leave the center. I trust her. She gets me, she knows when to push me and tell me the ugly truth, and when I need time to process things.

I haven't told you yet, but I'm not going back to Corroded Coffin. At least not right now. I talked to the guys and they all agreed that it's best if I take some time for myself. And for you. For my family and friends. They actually have a guy named Tig who auditioned while I was here and they like him. He's good, they sent me a demo. They asked me if it would be okay and I said it would be. It's true, even though it hurts. I have to do this for myself.

Because I am going to give this to you later, I want to tell you something here before I lose my courage.

Steve. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I know I haven't always shown you the way you deserve. Hell, some days I certainly didn't act like it. My worst days. But I never stopped loving you. I don't think I ever will.

But I also learned to like myself a little better here. I no longer want to punish myself for things that were out of my control, like my mom dying or my dad not caring enough for me to stay. I want to be loved. I want you to love me. I want to let you.

I want to finally leave the past behind and allow myself to think about the future. And whenever I do, you're in it. You're the anchor, the epicenter of all my plans.

Stevie, sweetheart, I want to marry you.

Don't worry, I'm not proposing. This is just something I needed to tell you. Someday I want to be your husband, if you want me.

You are my past, my present and my future.

This is me taking your hand every day until I die or you stop reaching for me.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

So fucking excited to have you all to myself again. Seriously, I'm going a little crazy. I'm also hopeful about the future. And in love. I'm so fucking in love with you.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

To start our life together without forgetting what came before.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

My second chance.

[notpixl]

Beauty amidst Terror

Chapter 1: The Meeting

Summary:

You get called by The Knave for an important matter.

You recall the various memories during your stay in the House of the Hearth.

Did you mess up?

Did something happen?

Did someone cause trouble?

Or could it be the possibility that…

You’re getting fired?

Only one way to find out…

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Notes:

Multi-part fic since I don’t want you all to be scrolling down

And uh…

Enjoy? I guess…?

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Tags: GN!Reader, I know this looks like it came from ao3, I’ll crosspost this on ao3 and wattpad once all the chapters are done trust, Arlecchino/Reader, Reader is not Traveller, Reader is a Doctor, established relationship, Navia is ur bestie, Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet are wingbuddies, NAVIA AS WINGWOMAN, the children have names, I want her to smooch and kiss me and hug and and an, no beta we die like Tingyun, gap moe probably??? I might be lying once this is finished

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“For the fifth time, Romeo…”

You gently pour Betadine on the kid’s knee, earning a yelp from the latter.

“Why do you insist on running around the house?”

“What else am I supposed to for the afternoon, sleep?”

The boy crosses his arms, clearly annoyed.

A sigh escapes your lips before patting their head.

“You come here one more time you’ll be having The Knave treat your injuries, okay?”

“…”

That’s one way to shut them up.

After covering his knee with dressing you stand up from your kneeling position, dusting your coat off before leading them to their room.

“Just… play with your toys. Read a book or something.”

You close the door, leaving you with the somewhat empty hallways of the Hearth.

Granted there were the maids and employees but you didn’t want to initiate- let alone start a conversation…

But aside from Socializing there’s other things to worry about!

Such as locking up the Clinic now that your shift is ove-

“Doctor?”

You stood still for a second, unresponsive.

“…doctor?”

“If I wasn’t used to your antics I’d be dead on the floor, Lynette…”

“Mm… is that why it took you a bit to respond?”

You turn to look at her, immediately noticing the bandaid on her cheek.

“…yes.”

She points at the bandaid, her expression still the same.

“Don’t worry. I did the steps necessary. Just like you said.”

You cross your arms, an eyebrow raised.

“Disinfectant as well?”

“Mm.”

A smile escapes your lips as you ruffle her hair, earning a silent pur.

“Father told me to escort you to her Office.”

“I-Is that so…?”

You nervously retract your arm in response to that information.

You? Being called by The Knave?

S-surely you didn’t do anything bad, right?

“Mm. Follow me.”

Lynette guides you to her Father’s Office, unconsciously walking beside her since you’re already being plagued with multiple questions and thoughts.

Was it the way you treated those kids Were the playful threats too much? Could it be the medicine you used? Maybe it’s you sometimes showing up late- No that shouldn’t be it…

Maybe… a raise-

No… doubt that’d happen…

…fired, maybe?

*Knock! Knock! Knock!*

“Come in.”

Lynette steps aside, being met with The Knave facing her back towards you.

The door shuts tight.

It’s just you and her.

There’s a sofa in front of her desk which beckons you to come closer.

But you have manners.

“Sit.”

You walked rather… slow? As if you’re prepared for any news you’ll be receiving this afternoon…

At least the sofa feels comfy.

Wait why’re you even thinking about that-

“…How’s your stay?”

“Uh… n-nice, I guess…”

Great. You’re stuttering. What a way to start, you.

“How were the kids?”

You gulp.

“Some are… manageable. Some need sweets… and some need a… little visit from The Knave…”

There’s a… slight pause.

“How are you feeling?”

“…Kind of tired? But I’ll be fine.”

“Even after hundreds upon hundreds of children dashing towards your Clinic?”

“Like I said… some are manageable… some need a little treat… and some definitely need a visit from-

“Me.”

“Yes…”

“Why?”

Oh now that is… tricky.

You look at your hands resting on your lap, unsure of what to say.

Oh screw it, you’re in too deep anyway.

“Because you look frightening.”

…

“Mm.”

A long silence ensues.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes slowly look up…

To meet those menacing- no, hypnotizing eyes of hers.

Trying to look at The Knave of all people is already a difficult task.

As if you shouldn’t even think of doing that.

But remaining eye contact with her?

You’ll be dead on the spot.

*Snap!*

“Are you still awake?”

“I- w-what…?”

You repeatedly blink, gaining your senses back.

“Good.”

Should you be scared?

Aroused?

Maybe even both??

“I’ll repeat it again.”

The Knave points at herself.

“Do I look frightening…?”

You stammer.

“N-no… to me at least.”

“…?”

That look of hers tells you to go on.

Not like you had any choice anyway.

“While others might look at you with fear or dread in mind… I fortunately got to see the… Beauty amidst this…”

“Go on.”

“…amidst this terrifying face of yours.”

The last part took… practically everything just to say it.

“…Leave.”

You picked yourself up and bolted away from The Knave’s sights, making sure to close the door quietly.

The fervent beats of your heart occupied your ears as you lean on the wall, shivering.

…

Wait…

Come to think of it…

Wasn’t that a compliment…?

You just flat out said that The Knave’s face is pretty!

You know what? Forget it. You should at least focus on getting out of here and not worry about interpretation…

—————

———

—————

Chat trust me on this I have it… somewhat planned out

I just want you all to have a peak instead of waiting a month huhu

It’ll end with the most sloppiest toppiest make out sessi

💥

🪦

[lillsisamarshmallow]

Nurse Y/n (4)

Chapter Summary:  When the Jungkook and Hoseok show up at the café without Jimin, Y/n does her best to help them, but she can only do so much. When she meets the pack leader who hates her will she be able to help him? Will he let her help? Who did this?

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Implied Violence, Violent Aftermath, Implied Hate crime?, Injuries, Blood, Lots of Blood, Bleeding, Nurse Reader, Crying, Medical emergency. Let me know if I missed any!

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Masterlist | Series Masterlist

"We need your help."

My face dropped at the serious tone in the younger boy's voice, uneasiness settling throughout my body waiting for a further explanation.

"Jimin's hurt and we don't know what to do. Please we need your help."

Before my mind could even process what was happening my feet raced me across the kitchen slamming open one of the cupboards and snatching out the first aid kit we kept on hand. Ducking my head through the doors to the front I told Seoyeon there was an emergency and I'll be back later to which she sternly nodded her head understanding, since it was still early, she'd have to call someone in to help her out.

Running back to Jungkook and Hoseok, I gave them a look before telling them I'm ready, as we ran through the alleys, I recognized most of the turns but not all, my legs were burning from the constant running yet the boys in front of me didn't seem to struggle so much.

Eventually we made it to the cross section of alleys, they ran down but I stopped behind them staring into the alley not stepping forward remembering what happened last time. I stared down at the ground, knowing that beyond the line was their territory. Looking up through the alley I could see Namjoon lying down injured.

He's hurt...

He must have felt me staring at him as he looked back at me staring, it felt as though he was searching my soul looking of any bad intentions, finding none he gave me a slight nod before dropping his lead back into its laying position.

I raced into the alley only to be taken aback by what I saw, it looked like a bomb had gone off in such a small space, scanning the area I could see that Jungkook and Hoseok as well as one of the men I had spoken to last time were attending to their friends whom were all lying on the ground, spotting Jimin I raced over to him dropping to my knees besides him.

"Y-Y/n..?" He grumbled, despite having his eyes closed he knew exactly who I was, not questioning how he knew, I rushed out questions asking him what happened but didn't get much of an answer deciding it was more important to patch him up first.

"Where Jimin? Where are you hurt Jimin?"

Jimin's trembling hands reached the end of his shirt slowing pulling it up, realizing what he was doing I grabbed hold finishing the job for him before dropping the shirt holding my hands in front of my mouth gasping at what I saw.

Littered across Jimin's torso were large forming bruise's along with small tears all around them, shaking hands reaching for the first aid kit I scrambled through it looking for some alcohol wipes and a bandage, getting them out I turn back to Jimin gulping.

Slowly I wipe over his bruise's disinfecting it before moving on to the cuts, Jimin flinches from the sting of the alcohol, apologizing I continued placing Bandages on the cuts after disinfecting. I started wrapping a compression bandage around his torso telling him how sorry I was every time I had to lift him up to get the wrap all the way around, thankfully Jimin wasn't too hard to lift but he did his best to help me out. Fixing up the clasp securing the compression bandage, I pulled Jimin's shirt back down before looking over his face and rest of his body to check for more injuries.

"Okay, all done" I spoke out slightly relived there wasn't any more injuries on him.

"P-please help them..."

Staring at Jimin I turned around seeing everyone else who was injured, pursing my lips I stood up from my crouched position looking at the hurt men, Namjoon, the Panther hybrid, and the Cat hybrid. Deciding the cat was the least dangerous and seem to hate me less I went over to him first where Hoseok was already trying to help.

The cat hybrid faced me before turning right back to face Hoseok trying to ignore my presence, but I persist.

Crouching down beside him I went to reach for his hand, but he moved it away, Hoseok seemed to notice and looked up at him, pleading with him to let me help. "Please let me help you."

We made eye contact as I spoke, knowing he couldn't fight and I won't give up he gave in moving his hand over to mine, I smiled at him trying to reassure him as I held his hand bringing it up to my face to closer inspect it.

He's dealt a few hits.

His knuckles were bleeding from the punches he clearly threw, grabbing the alcohol wipes I passed one to Hoseok so he could copy me as I saw him watching me intently, carefully I wiped down his knuckles, as the alcohol made contact with his raw knuckles his hand wrapped around mine gripping it so impossibly tight that my face twisted in pain, he seemed to notice and let go moving his hand away but I was quick to grab hold it. He mumbled out what I can only assume was an apology before letting me continue.

I finished wiping down his hands then got bandage wraps and tightly secured them around the cat hybrids hand. Hoseok passed me his other hand where I did the same, looking at the cat hybrid I could tell he'd been hit a few times but not enough to be seriously injured, besides, I don't think he'd let me touch his face.

I'll have to bring back some ice packs.

Giving a little tap on his hands to let him know I was done I returned to my full height slightly stretching before locking eyes with the next person who needs help, the panther hybrid.

What even happened here? Why are they all hurt?

Thank goodness they made me take basic first aid in school.

I waltzed over to the panther hybrid glancing down at him and Jungkook as well as the sugar glider hybrid, scanning his body it seemed as through most of his injuries were on his face, unfortunately due to where he was sitting propped up against the wall in between the chair and some boxes would make it hard to get to his face.

I stood in front of him crouching down coming face to face with him, he looked slightly surprised by my fast movements, his velvety brown eyes staring right back at me holding both pain and curiosity. Seeing his injuries, he had a busted lip which was bleeding and he had clearly been hit in his nose, as well as a cut along his eyebrow, he was covered in blood, his deep brown hair wet with the liquid. Biting my lip, I got to work starting with basic wipes to get most of the blood off followed by an alcohol wipe disinfecting the larger areas, but I had to get a cotton bud to help with the rest.

Slowly I swiped the cotton bud over his lips, he winced in pain but I kept going, moving up to his eye brow he kept staring into my eyes not looking away the whole time, it made me nervous but I couldn't stop, the pain must have been way worse because as soon as the coated cotton bud touched his eyebrow wound his arms snapped up grabbing hold of my thighs squeezing them and wincing in pain. Shocked I froze at the sudden contact, I had been so side tracked trying to help that I hadn't realized that I was crouching, hovering over his lap, blush spread up my neck blooming on my face at the realization of just how close we were. Opening his eyes, he looked me over seeming to notice my state before smirking at me, this only made my hot skin even worse, trying to get his attention off of me and release me from my embarrassment I put the cotton bud back on the cut below his eye.

This seemed to work as he grimaced in pain coughing a bit making me feel bad, but I continued cleaning up his face and adding small butterfly bandages where needed, when I finished, I tried to stand back up, but he kept me in place with his strong grip, my face started heating back up as I tried to hide it and look away. The smirk was almost audible on his face as he let out a light laugh before letting go of me.

Immediately I got up grabbing the first aid kit and stepping away a bit. Looking around everyone seemed to be doing okay now, they were either all patched up or looking after someone who had been injured. Thinking I was done I sigh slightly relaxing before I realized.

Namjoon.

Spinning around so fast the box almost dropped out of my hands I hastily made my way over to Namjoon before stopping just a few feet away from him, anxious I wasn't sure if I should step closer, he had his back facing me so I couldn't see his face. It wasn't until I started scanning his body for obvious injuries that I began to notice the dark, wet circle around him and the dark red growing up his worn grey shirt that I realized.

That's blood. He's bleeding... bad.

Standing closer to him a heard the familiar growl but this time it was different, it was laced with pain.

"T-That's a lot of blood...Namjoon-"

"Go away. I don't need your help."

Hesitating I considered just leaving him here, but I can't do that, I need to help him. Shoving the fear, I have of this man who is now clearly riddled with pain and writhing on the ground I pressed.

"Yes, you do." I sternly said stepping around him to face him meeting his eyes, anger and pain swirled in them as he looked at me, I crossed my arms and rivalled him own anger with my own at his sheer stubbornness. "I am going to help you."

I crouched down to get a better look at his wound but to no avail I still couldn't see it, huffing I put my hands on his chest using all the power I had and to attempted to push him over, thankfully due to his state Namjoon didn't fight back much, just groaning from the movement.

When he was finally facing up, I got a small idea as to where his injuries were, his shirt was mostly soaked in blood, but the source seemed to be right at the centre of his upper chest. Reaching to grab his shirt to pull it up he grabbed hand of my wrist stopping me, shooting me a glare, I shot one right back at him.

"I can't help if I can't get to the wound."

"I told you, I don't want help form you. I'm Fine."

His ice-cold tone striking my heart like a spear going straight through my chest and out my back, slightly taken a back I just stared at him before noticing, not only did his eyes hold anger for me and pain from his chest but they also held fear, pushed back as far as it could go, but still there.

He's scared of me...

Immediately my expression softened upon the realization that he was just scared of me, he was worried I'd hurt him or his pack, changing my approach to this I wrapped my other hand securely around his hand that was gripped on my wrist, encapsulated it as much as I could seeing as he had much bigger hands than me.

Staring into his eyes I spoke softly. "Please Namjoon, let me help you. I want you to be okay, for them." I nodded towards the others but kept eye contact with him. He stared into the eyes before begrudgingly letting go of my wrist and lifting his shirt up himself, giving him a small smile, I looked over to where his shirt once was my face dropping.

Across his upper chest were countless slashes, they didn't look deep enough to affect any of his organs but the sheer amount of them made him bleed like crazy, whoever did this clearly wanted to seriously harm him and whoever it was had got him good. My mind was running miles an hour not knowing where to start.

There's so much blood...

This is serious I can't patch this up.

"We need to get you to a hospital." I spoke is disbelief, his wounds were too severe for me to be able to help sufficiently, he needs proper medical attention, and I was worried about the amount of blood he was losing, it was pooling around him, and my legs were covered in the crimson red liquid that was pumping out of his body at an alarming rate.

"No, no hospitals. They won't help me." He grunted seeming to be losing consciousness.

"W-What? We have to! I can't fix this I-"

"No!" He yelled at me. "If you can't help me then I don't need help" He moved his hands trying to pull his shirt back down but my hands shot out stopping his, staring at his chest, knowing that if I don't help him, he won't get any help, for whatever reason he doesn't want to go to the hospital so I need to do my best what I have and my basic training.

Trying to clean up his chest was a mess, every time I wiped blood away more would ooze out from the cuts, I could tell it was hurting every time I did because he would tense and hiss out incomprehensible words. My hands by now were soaked with blood having it seep into my nailbeds where it appeared darker, it was all over my clothes and my face from wiping the sweat away, or at least I hope it was sweat.

Deciding against wiping the blood away anymore as it kept coming back, I started wrapping it figuring I can clean and disinfect it another time, Namjoon was not like Jimin, and I could not so easily lift him. "I need you to sit up so I can wrap it up." Namjoon was very out of it right now due to the blood lose but he needed to do this so he would stop losing blood, I'm starting to get seriously worried.

Weakly, Namjoon sat up, but I had to help him, I started wrapping around the bandage, it was going smoothly until Namjoon leant his weight on me throwing me off balance, smacking a hand to the ground to keep me sitting up straight, and the other went around Namjoon to stop him from falling. "Namjoon?" He didn't respond, panic spread through me as I tried to find a pulse, thankfully he had one, but it was weak.

Slightly adjusting our position, I kept wrapping the bandage around him trying to get it done fast and tight as my arms were aching from holding us up. Getting to the last round I secured it over his shoulder putting the wrap down and shifting slightly to lay Namjoon down. Not wanting his head to rest on the dirty ground still flooded with blood I placed his head on my lap and leaned against the wall behind me.

Before I could truly relax, I looked around making sure everyone was okay and patched up, Jimin was still out of it, but he was patched up, the panther hybrid seemed be drifting in and out of consciousness and the others were all sitting quietly scattered about the alley. A final sigh excited my mouth as I looked up to the sky closing my eyes trying to process everything.

Why are they all so hurt?

Who did this to them?

Was this normal?

"I'm sorry."

Breaking my thoughts, I opened my eyes and looked at the alley way only to see Jungkook staring at me, I hadn't noticed it before, but his eyes were red, liked he'd been crying. Confused by his words I softly spoke to him, too exhausted to be much louder.

"What do you mean?"

"I shouldn't have brought you here, I didn't mean to, but we weren't sure who else to go to."

"I'm happy you came and got me Jungkook. I would've been more worried if you didn't show up and I wasn't able to help." I said trying to ease the tension, it seemed like everyone was going to be okay which was good. "What happened?" I asked him finally making eye contact with the bunny boy.

"Well..."

As Jungkook went on to explain what had happened with a few of the other conscious members filling in gaps and details, I felt the bile rising in my throat at what they were saying. How this had happened before, and it was normal for them although it had never gotten this bad. Tears started to pool in my eyes, I hadn't realized how bad they were living, and it all came crashing down on me just how bad it was.

People would beat them up this badly, just because they were hybrids.

Growing up I had never met a hybrid, but I knew they existed, I thought they were cool, so I never had anything against them. I know Seoyeon had nothing against them either, she treated them just as she would treat anybody else. They don't deserve this, being treated like that, people who beat up hybrids or have establishment with 'No hybrids allowed' are just sick.

I know that it's mostly older people who have problems with hybrids these days, but they pass their beliefs onto their kids and the younger generations, and some people are just jerks for no reason. I was thankful that my parents never had anything against hybrids and just simply didn’t know much about them.

Knowing I wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, I settled down a bit more shifting under Namjoon’s weight trying to get a bit more comfortable. It was rest time for the boys, most of them had now lied down and closed their eyes trying to recover from the traumatic events from today.

Jungkook kept talking and answering a few of my questions occasionally going quiet at some, which I took as stepping too far and moved on to a new question, by now pretty much everyone had passed out, it had been a few hours and I stuck around to keep an eye on them especially Namjoon, constantly checking his pulse making sure it didn't get any worse.

The stress of the situation was beginning to dawn on me, and my eyes kept closing, Jungkook had also drifted off muttering a quiet 'Thank you'. I slowly reached for my pocket which had my phone, getting it out and unlocking it I sent a brief message to Seoyeon letting her know I was okay and won't be back for a while before turning it off and stuffing it back in my pocket.

The exhaustion coming over my body my eyes started to close as my body went limp succumbing to the comfort of darkness.

A/n: New chapter! I knew where I wanted this chapter to start and end but I had such a struggle writing it. I have never taken any sort of medical course, but my mum used to do first aid for our local football club, I kept asking her questions about injuries, bleeding out and whether you’d need proper medical help, she thought I was planning something 😭. I’ve never written about Injuries or stuff like this, so sorry if it sounds a bit weird, I’ll keep learning! Also, the support has been so amazing! I love reading all the kind words and thoughts about the book, I took a break from writing this week but I’m ahead in chapter writing so it’s not a big deal, I’ve written up to chapter 7 and I’m working of what’s going to be either Chapter 7.5 or 8, I’m thinking of just doing weekly updates since that’s how long it usually takes me to write a full chapter as I don’t have a lot of time and tend to have a short attention span. But anyways, I hope you all have a lovely day & Thankyou all for reading! 💜

[bitchjerk78]

USE YOUR WORDS

SUMMARY: y/n helps Dean after he got injured during a fight with a demon

WORDS COUNT: 2600

PAIRING: reader x Dean Winchester

WARNINGS: smut, unprotected sex, dirty talking

You sigh while you walk towards Dean, his face dark and angry. He has his big hand on his shoulder pressing the wound he got while he was fighting that demon, the same one you could kill thanks to Sam help

<<Dean>> you whisper his name softly as you are almost scared to talk to him. His green eyes move fast in your direction and you stop breathing

<<What the hell do you want, y/n?>> his voice is harsh, deep. Full of pain and rage. You close your eyes for a second, remembering that the two of you don't really get along

<<Let me check that wound>> you reply with a firm voice. Yes, maybe you can't stand each other, but now it's different. You're not fighting for some stupid shit, he's hurt and you have to help him, even if you want to slap him most of the time

<<It's fine>> you roll your eyes bothered by his stubbornness

<<I said>> you took a step closer <<let me check the wound>> he stands properly and he looks up and down your body

<<Sam will do it when he's back>> you bite your lip even more close to losing your cool

<<Sam is covering our tracks, we don't know for how long he's going to be away and that wound needs to be suited, so you either go to a hospital or you let me check it>> your voice is confident and you look at him while you notice you can't breathe properly, the air in your lungs disappeared and you just can't inhale more. It's like everything stops while he lowers his eyes, and he nods slowly

<<Fine>> that's the only word that comes out of his mouth, but it's enough for you to get even closer and check it. When you see the blood, the skin torn apart, and the suffering expression on his face, you just can't hate him like you always used to do. You see it for what he is, just a boy. An asshole, sometimes that's for sure, but just a boy who needs help

<<Okay, why don't you sit down so I can stitch you up>> oddly, he does what you said and you can't help but notice his eyes looking at you in a way they have never done before. It's like they are looking at you for real, like they just noticed you <<Come here>> you whisper as you pour some alcohol on a tissue to disinfect the shoulder <<That bastard really got you>> you hear him chuckle and that makes you feel strange, Dean is chuckling, with you... <<Am I making you laugh?>> you ask while you put a needle in his skin to close the wound

<<No>> he growls due to the pain but he doesn't say anything about it, of course he's too proud to admit he's in pain <<I just think it's funny hearing you say bad words>> he says biting his bottom lip when you put some pressure on the wound

<<Shut up, Dean>> you roll your eyes and shake your head in disapproval

<<Shut up, Dean>> he says back, mocking you.You open your mouth slightly when you turn towards him <<Close your mouth, little girl. You never know what might slip into it>> as soon as you realise the joke, you pull away

<<Gross>> you shake your head again but you keep cleaning the wound

<<Oh come on>> he smirks <<Don't tell me you get embarrassed for something like that>> his deep voice makes you shiver in pleasure

<<No, of course not>> but you know you're lying, you know that you get embarrassed and you know why. Because even if you don't like him very much, you couldn't help but think about what would be like to feel him close. His hands on your trembling body. His lips between your shaking legs. His voice in your ear, whispering some secret desire

<<You are blushing, y/n>> he tilts his head <<Stop pretending>> you frown at his words, and you get up from the chair, hoping you can get away with this <<You think I don't know? You think I'm so naive I didn't notice the way you look at me?>> you stay still, too surprised to even move a single muscle

<<I have no idea what you're talking about>> you mumble but you can feel your heart beating way too fast and your panties getting way too wet just after some of his words

<<Liar>> he whispers in your ear, and you can feel his nose brushing against your jaw <<Bet you're hoping I'll touch you>> you find the strength to pull back and you look at him in disbelief

<<The hell is wrong with you?>> you raise your voice a little. his eyes looks at you and he opens his mouth

<<I...I'm sorry>> he says lowering his eyes <<I don't know, I just thought...>> you take a deep breath

<<Don't you ever do something like that again, don't you dare to treat me like one of your girls, Dean!>> you point a finger at him <<Because I'll fucking kick your ass>> you were hoping to see him a little scared, but his lips curls in a smile

<<I've always liked your determination>> your heart stops for a second <<The way you're independent, you don't need someone to defend you. You can do that yourself>> he takes a step closer and you raise your eyes to meet his <<Always ready to fight>> his hand gets closer to your face and he puts some of your hair behind your ear <<You have no idea how much you turn me on when you look at me all mad>> your mouth gets dry and your hands start sweating

<<What are you saying?>> you manage to ask because your voice is so low, too full of desire

<<I'm saying that I crave you>> everything stops <<I crave your touch, your body, your voice>> another small step towards you and your lips are just inches apart <<I want you, everything of you, every single part. Even the ones you hate>> two of his fingers trapped your chin so you're obliged to look at him <<Since the first day you walked through that door, I wanted you, I needed you>> you are speechless, all this is too surreale. It's like your dreams are coming true and you don't know how much you can resist the urge to grab him and finally kiss him

<<Dean, please>> you whisper out of breath

<<Please, what? Use your words, princess>> you bite your lip, and you feel his thumb touching your mouth <<Come on, I know you can do that. You like to talk so much, do it now too>> he smirks and he reaches your ear <<You're not nervous, right?>> he teases you <<Am I making you nervous, y/n?>>

<<N-no>> your voice is so full of pleasure that you almost moan as you talk

<<You really like to lie, little girl>> he says and his hands end up on your waist <<Why don't you stop pretending and you show me how much you want it?>> and without even notice it, your face gets so close to his

<<If we do this, there's no going back>> you whisper inches from his mouth

<<Oh baby, going back it's the last thing I want>> you gasp when you feel his lips on yours and, even if the feeling of it it's amazing, the only thing you're thinking is finally. He kisses you so passionately that you're almost out of breath, his tongue licks your lips slowly as you feel your knees getting weaker and you panties getting wet, you almost sure you are dripping on your thighs

<<What if Sam- >> Dean stops you, grabbing from your legs and putting you on the table

<<Honestly, y/n>> his lips end up on your neck making you shiver and moan softly as his hands keep grabbing your waist in a possessive way, his fingers pressing into your skin <<I don't give a fuck about Sam right now. I'm dying to feel your tight pussy around my cock, if Sam comes back I will gladly show him the way I can make you squirm and scream my name>> he wraps his big hand around your throat squeezing it softly <<So why you don't shut up and show me how much you want it>> the only thing you can do is nodding and you find yourself biting your lip as his mouth kiss your chest from above the t-shirt <<Bet you're so wet right now, am I right little girl?>> you shake your head but his smirk tells you he knows you're lying. So you stop breathing when his hand touches the throbbing part between your legs

<<Oh God>> you moan softly rolling your eyes back trying to keep your voice low

<<Lift your hips, baby>> now your pants are now on the floor, and you know he can see your panties all wet <<Look at the mess you made>> he shakes his head. You start shaking when his fingers rub your inner thigh <<Your dripping, y/n>> his breathing is low, full of passion and desire. The lust in his eyes is so noticeable that you almost lose control <<So you want me to lick it?>> you nod and look at him as he reach your mouth <<It's not so simple, princess>> he brushes his lips against yours <<You have to beg for what you want>> with a finger he starts touch you from above your wet panties <<So beg for it, y/n>> his movements are slow and light. So soft you almost can't feel it, but you know it's there touching you, making you go crazy <<Use your pretty mouth and beg me, come on. I know you can do it>> and while he keeps looking at you with a teasing smile, he kisses your inner thigh in the same soft way he was touching you. You feel your entire body on fire, and the desire of feeling it is so unbearable that you start moaning and shaking

<<Please>> you whisper out of breath, hoping he'll finally do it, but his soft laugh catches you off guard

<<Louder, baby>> he says biting the warm skin close to your soaked panties <<Be a good girl and say what you want me to do>>

<<Kiss me>> you say with your face on fire but he shakes his head

<<Be more specific, kiss you where?>> you close your eyes for a second, but you manage to whisper a couple more words

<<Kiss me there>> you can see his proud smile all across his face while his hands push your hips down

<<Good girl>> and with that, you finally feel his lips between your shaking legs

<<God!>> you lay on the table as your hand ends up in his soft hair <<Fuck>> you arch your back pushing your hips closer to his mouth. You can hear him moaning as his tongue licks the right spot over and over

<<God, y/n>> you almost scream when he bite your skin and suck it soon after <<You're so fucking delicious>> his hand reaches your throat while the other keep pushing your hip down the table

<<Dean!>> your head falls back on the table when two of his fingers start pushing inside you

<<Yes, good girl. Come for me>> you can feel it in your chest you're close, the fire is spreading all over your body and the shaking is unstoppable <<Come on my tongue, princess>> you arch your back one more time before the orgasm leaves your mouth while you moan his name over and over <<Such a good girl>> he smirks as he kisses your lips making you taste yourself <<I should have knew that behind that cute and innocent act of yours it was hiding this beautiful submissive girl>> he grab your legs and he push you close to his body

<<Shut up>> you say rolling your eyes trying to not be effected by his low voice and teasing words

<<Shut up? I'm pretty sure you like when I talk to you>> you hear his jeans opening and you look at his big and throbbing cock in his hand <<Oh, I know you'd like that>> he smirks while his hand moves slowly all around it, you can see some precum dripping from it and you open your mouth slowly <<All the time you were looking at it, you thought I wouldn't notice it?>> he put the tip on your pussy <<I could see the lust in your eyes, and you have no fucking idea how much I wanted to grab you and bend you over. Fucking you till the only thing you were able to do was screaming my name and begging me to let you come>> you feel the tip inside you and you squeeze your eyes

<<Dean...>> you shake your head. It's too big, you know you can't take it

<<Don't worry, princess>> he puts some of your hair behind your ear <<You can take it, I know you can. This cock was made for you>> you almost scream when you feel it all inside you, pushing you to the edge

<<Please>> you whisper as he starts to move way too slowly, making you feel like you're going to break

<<Please, what?>> you arch your back and roll your eyes as his hands grab you to make you stay still under his body

<<F-faster>> you beg out of breath, and his smile makes you understand you just said something right

<<My good girl>> he praise you as he moves faster, deeper. In an eager way, like this is what he always wanted, what he always needed. Your moans are louder than before, and his name leaves your mouth in a begging way <<You belong to me, y/n>> he wraps his hand around your neck <<From now on, your mine. Do you understand me?>> his pushes are more possessive, more dominant. So rough you feel like losing your senses. Tears of pleasure start running down your face and the only thing you can think about is how much you like this <<I've killed for way less>> his face close to yours so that you can hear his words inside your soul <<Because I'll kill anyone who tries to touch you>> another deep push makes you shaking and you wrap your legs around his waist so you can feel him all inside you <<Anyone who looks at you in the wrong way he'll find himself with a bullet in his head before he even realizes it>> your nails are grabbing his back so tightly as everything around you stop existing and you feel like you two are the only people left in this world <<If someone tries to take you away from me I'll make sure he's going to suffer>> his voice is so low, so full of things never said before <<I'd burn the world down for you, y/n. I don't care about the consequences>> another push takes you almost at the edge <<And now, come for me, little girl. Show me you feel the same>> hearing him saying all this makes you lose control of your body, and you let yourself scream his name as he whispers yours close to your ear.

You both look at each other, your faces covered in sweat and your breathing deep and shaky. You touch his cheek as you try to calm yourself down

<<I do feel the same>> you whisper and your heart stops in your chest when he puts his forehead against yours

<<I know, princess>> he whispers kissing your forehead <<I know>>.

[dandylovesturtles]

we're stressed but we remain silly (actually this is super angsty lol)

more Sidelined + Firefight (Firelined???) propaganda for the @tmntaucompetition

Sorry I keep stealing your boys @remedyturtles

Spoilers for chapter 15 of Firefight, cw: for heavy injuries + blood, no actual recounting of how they got the injuries in this fic, though

Please consider voting for us! Thanks!

-----

In the time it takes Donnie and Leo to get medical supplies, it's been decided that they'll be teaming up with the Firefight guys.

The situation has also, somehow, managed to deteriorate.

If Leo thought these guys looked like death warmed over before, now they just look like plain old death. The other Donnie is littered with bloody injuries and his leg is bent in ways it really should not be. And the other Leo...

Leo shudders at the cracks in his shell. He's not sure he wants to know what kind of monster could do that.

The Leo is chirping periodically - help help scared - and the Donnie answers back by tapping on his shell. Leo knows enough now to recognize it as Morse code; trying to calm him, coax him into coming out. It doesn't seem to be working too well.

"...I think we should have brought more medical supplies," says his own Donnie, yanking Leo out of his reverie. "This may not be enough."

"I don't even know where to start," Leo confesses softly. Really, they need to see a doctor, but Leo has no idea where to find one. Maybe one of the older turtles here has more medical experience than they do? But he has no idea who to ask...

"We'll just... do the best we can," says Donnie, and he sounds determined. Leo finally tears his eyes away from their deathly still mirrored versions, the Leo cradled close in the Donnie's arms, to look at his own twin. He's got his jaw set and teeth clenched, like he does when he's gearing up for something particularly unpleasant, and Leo isn't going to let him face it alone.

"Alright." Leo starts laying out their supplies on the bleachers, sorting it for easy grabbing. "Let's see what we can do."

-----

When he tries to take the other Leo away, the other Donnie bites him.

Really, he should have been prepared for that.

It's only hard enough to graze the skin on his arm, but Leo still hisses when it happens. The other Donnie's eyes fly to his face, then widen and let go, which is good, because Leo knows what could have happened if he bit down harder.

He looks horribly guilty, his eyes flying between the Leo in his lap and Leo's own face. His eyes are glassy and he may not be able to fully distinguish between them. So now he thinks he bit the brother who is still chirping periodically - help help scared - and boy does Leo feel like a tool.

He holds up his hands in surrender, rushing to reassure him. "It's okay, that was my bad. I could have telegraphed that way better."

"Excellent work, Leon," chides his own twin, who looks thoroughly unimpressed. He immediately grabs Leo's arm in one hand, then reaches for the disinfectant with another. "We're supposed to be treating their injuries, not yours."

"It's fine, it's just a scrape!" he says, but doesn't actually do anything to stop Donnie from cleaning it. His immune system has been pretty much useless since the armor, and mouths are nasty.

Besides, the gentle attention Donnie is giving his wound, despite his harsh tone, seems to be doing something for the other Donnie. He doesn't loosen his grip on his twin, but something unspools in his posture as he watches, attentive, as the wound is cleansed and covered. Like it's finally clicking for him that they're here to help. That things are... well, better than they were.

Leo gives him his biggest, most reassuring grin, and says, "Yeah, see? We're gonna get you guys all patched up."

Donnie finishes his work, then pulls on a pair of gloves, thankfully already modified for three-fingered hands. He holds out a pair for Leo. "Are your hands steady?"

It's not at all an unfair question. Leo nods. "Yeah. For now, anyway."

Donnie nods back, letting the gloves fall into Leo's palms. "I'll start work with Leo, you take Donnie. Start with the lacerations on his back. I... don't think we can do much for his leg."

"Right."

Donnie steps over and settles down on the bleacher next to the pair, body angled towards them. He holds out his hands for his counterpart to see.

"Hello, Donatello," he says. "Can I start treating your Nardo? I'll keep him right here - you can maintain physical contact if you want."

The other Donnie hesitates. He hasn't spoken since they arrived, his only active communication the continuous taps against his own Leo's shell. It's not surprising - there's no way this situation isn't overwhelming. But it's making this whole process a bit difficult.

Donnie's never let difficulties slow him down, though.

"I swear," he says, clear and steady, "I'll treat him like my own Leo."

The other Donnie looks down at the bloody shell in his lap. Then he looks at Leo, who gives another smile and a little wave from his wheelchair.

Again, it seems to be clicking, and slowly, very slowly, the other Donnie unwraps from around his precious bundle, and lets him go.

His chirps get more rapid when that happens, and the other Donnie's taps get more rapid. They're close enough that he can keep a hand on his Leo's shell easily, can keep up the Morse code, keep telling him that he's safe. It means Leo's going to have an awkward angle to get to the other Donnie's own injuries, but that's alright. He's gotten good at reaching things that aren't convenient.

He wheels himself as close as he can get, then leans over the arm of his chair and gets to work.

It has to hurt, but the other Donnie stays stalwart, all his focus on reassuring his twin, barely twitching as Leo cleans and bandages the wounds. So Leo works in silence, lets him tap away. He knows enough to recognize it, but not enough to know what he's saying. Still, he can take a good guess.

Eventually, Donnie has done all he can to the other Leo, and Leo himself is flagging. His hands had been steady when he started, but this kind of work wears him out quickly - his hand muscles are cramping, and his wrists are sore. Donnie catches on, because he always does, and announces that they'll trade places without leaving room for argument.

So after a little maneuvering, Leo has his counterpart in his lap, while his twin works on cleaning the other Donnie's arms and legs as best he can. The taps are still going, and the chirps still come, here and there.

Leo can't do much to help now, so he tries to help. Tries to think of what would make him feel better, if they were switched.

He looks over at the other Donnie, battered and bruised and bloody, his leg twisted and his breaths wheezing.

And the next time the other Leo chirps, he says, "It's okay. Donnie's safe."

And he says it again, and again, and again, each time he hears the chirp, until-

"You're safe, too, Leo."

He looks up, at his twin, whose hands have stalled in their ministrations. He's looking at the shell in Leo's lap, but for a brief moment his eyes flick up, and they lock, and there's something meaningful there that Leo has to rush to catch.

"You're safe, too."

Leo watches Donnie, for the first time he notices the shake in his twin's hands. And it occurs to him, if it hurts him to see a Donnie in this state, like he's never seen before, then for his twin to see a Leo in this state, when he has-

He takes a shaky breath. The chirp comes again, and this time he says, "Yeah. You're safe. Donnie's safe. It's okay. No monsters here."

They keep it up until Raph and Mikey come back with the chairs and the food and blankets, the ones Leo drapes over his legs to keep them warm. By that point, they've done about all they can, and with some maneuvering they get the other Donnie in the transport chair, and pass his twin back to him, safe in his lap.

He still hasn't made any move to come out, but no one tries to force him.

"Let's ask the staff if there's anywhere these guys can lay down," suggests Raph, and they all nod in agreement to that. The bleachers are not comfortable enough for naps, especially not in the state these guys are in.

"Do you need me to push you, Nardo?" asks Donnie. "You said your wrists were hurting."

"They're fine," he protests, giving his hands a shake. "Don't..."

The word "worry" dies when his counterpart chirps again, and he catches Donnie's flinch when it happens.

"...Well," Leo says, "I guess I could stand to take a break."

His twin looks relieved. Leo's glad one Donnie does, at least.

Donnie grabs the handles of his chair; Raph takes the handles of their teammates'. And with that, they're off.

[55sturn]

please can u do dad/husband chris hcs??

i love ur writing 🫶🏾🫶🏾

omg i love this !!!

✮HUSBAND + DAD!CHRIS WHO…/ HEADCANONS

husband!chris headcanons

HUSBAND!CHRIS who is using every chance he can to tell people that you’re his wife, there is absolutely no hiding the marriage.

HUSBAND!CHRIS who proposes the idea of getting eloped about a month and a half after proposing because he genuinely can’t wait to be married to you.

after first you feel bad because you want your friends and family to be part of the big day but then you say fuck it, and the two of you are running to city hall as soon as it opens the next day.

after the elopement, you don’t really tell anyone aside from close family and then you guys take your honeymoon, i feel like chris would fly you to somewhere like greece or paris or london because it’s romantic and he wants you to have that movie-esque honeymoon.

HUSBAND!CHRIS who fucks you on every surface in your hotel room during the honeymoon.

HUSBAND!CHRIS who decides to help you throw a big informal wedding type-party with all your friends x family and announce the elopement publicly for the first time.

HUSBAND!CHRIS who treats the entire marriage as if it’s the newlywed stage, like he’s the type of husband who still flirts with you and pursued you as if he literally didn’t lock it down with a ring. he never wants you to feel like he doesn’t want or love you.

HUSBAND!CHRIS who decides that once you guys are married, that he wants to move into a house with you and begin the new chapter and try for a family.

HUSBAND!CHRIS who, once again, constantly tries to consummate the marriage everywhere in the new house. matt and nick refuse to visit until you and chris have hired a cleaning service to “disinfect” the house.

HUSBAND!CHRIS who is a very big believer of the saying “happy wife, happy life.” which means he’s giving and getting you everything you want without hesitation and refuses to let you decline anything.

dad!chris headcanons!

DAD!CHRIS who is a boy dad without question, but that’s not to say he wouldn’t adore his future daughter, that little girl would have him wrapped around her finger.

DAD!CHRIS who brings up the idea of trying for a family after about a month of living together and you’re relieved because you had found out you were pregnant two weeks prior, you just weren’t ready to say anything yet.

DAD!CHRIS who, the second you tell him you’re pregnant, is on his knees pressing kisses to your stomach before he’s resting his head against it with his arms tightly wrapped around you and he’s nearly sobbing, he’s just excited and unbelievably happy that his dreams of having his own little family are coming true.

DAD!CHRIS who is with you at every appointment and cries again when you find out you’re having a baby boy.

DAD!CHRIS who is getting the baby his first pair of jordans without question.

DAD!CHRIS who lets you design the nursery entirely on your own and how you want, because he feels a bit bad that he took wedding planning away from you when you guys got eloped.

DAD!CHRIS who decides that he and matt will build the dresser, changing table, crib, rocking chair, everything while you’re out with mary-lou, nick, and your mom buying baby clothes.

when you see that all the furniture is put together, the pregnancy hormones kick in and you’re sobbing in his arms, thanking him for it and he’s shushing you and telling you that you don’t need to thank him for doing the bare minimum.

DAD!CHRIS who had the to-go bags packed the day after you told him you were pregnant, he had everything you need and want in yours, and completely overpacked the baby’s to-go bag because he couldn’t sleep the night you told him.

DAD!CHRIS who, the moment you go into labour, has the car ready to go and is calling nick and matt as soon as you’ve been checked into the hospital.

DAD!CHRIS who, while you’re waiting until you’re fully dilated, is getting you ice, wiping your forehead, holding your hand, he’s very doting while you’re sitting there waiting to give birth because he feels bad that you’re in pain because he did that to you.

DAD!CHRIS who has tears streaming down his face the second he hears his baby’s first cries. once you and the baby are cleaned up and decently rested, he’s running out to the waiting room and collapses in his brothers’ arms saying “we’ve got a healthy baby boy.”

DAD!CHRIS who refuses to wear a shirt when holding his son, because he’s a full believer in skin to skin contact being an important bonding factor.

DAD!CHRIS who is so incredibly helpful, he refuses to be one of those dads that doesn’t get up when the baby cries and he’s doing a lot of the midnight feedings if you’re not breastfeeding.

if you are breastfeeding, he’s doing everything he can to make you comfortable and he’s always going to grab your son from the bassinet at the foot of your bed.

DAD!CHRIS who feels so heartbroken when the baby is teething because he knows his son is uncomfortable and in pain and there’s not much to be done about it.

DAD!CHRIS who is so interested in the types of foods that the baby is trying out once he’s weaned off milk.

DAD!CHRIS who he gets his brothers to do a baby food challenge on their channel and it’s one of the only times that your son is featured on the channel because he loves his uncles and they make him laugh.

DAD!CHRIS and UNCLE!NICK + MATT who are completely wrapped around the baby’s finger. he gets whatever he wants from all of you because he is the first baby out of the group and everyone spoils him.

he grows up with the coolest family, he’s always sporting some sort of merch from his parents’ and uncles favourite artists to sturniolo merch and fresh love that the triplets created as the announcement of chris being a father.

all in all, chris’ baby would be so incredibly loved, spoiled, well mannered, respectful, and all around the coolest baby in the fucking world.

taglist: @dylsdunbar @verosivy @soursturniolo @4sturns @sturnsclutter @spencerstits @meanttomeet @bluesturniolo333 @graciereid @abbie13sworld @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @ifilwtmfc @themattgirl @lovingmattysposts @lacysturniolo @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @strawberrysturniolo @lustfulslxt @sturnifyed @carolsturns1 @teapartyprincess4two @mangosrar @querenciasturniolo

© 55STURN 2024 [ you do not have permission to copy or save or share my work to other platforms and devices! ]

[mrsparrasblog]

Mission save the human race pt.4

Previous part next part

TW: Breeding kink, Rough sex , Smut, degrading

Before you could realize what was happening, Simon had already grabbed you and carried you down to the room where Johnny was. He was faster with you in his hands than you could be on your own.

You thought he was getting better. He lay in the bed, uncovered, his body glistening full of sweat, and he was shaking. Fever, possible sepsis—fuck, fuck.

You dont have any medication to save him from sepsis - if that were the case. You could stop a fever with your trinkets and the medication you prepared. Hell, you could try this natural healing stuff your grandma swore by, but you are fucked right now, and Johnny too. You can't panic; you need to stay calm for Simon's sake and his friend's sake. They'd make your attempts to save Johnny even worse if they knew how overwhelmed you are right now.

"Cold water, towels, onions, and Paracetamol now." Simon immediately ran down, gathering all the things you would need to save Johnny.

"What the fuck?" Kyle questioned.

"I don't have anything better. As long as none of you are ready to raid a hospital now, this must do the job," I screamed at him.

"Where is the nearest hospital?" John asked.

"16 miles away."

"We will be back in a day. What do you need?"

"Paracetamol, Morphine, Tylenol, gloves, new surgical equipment, as many disinfection wipes or solutions as you can get, new bandages, everything you can get."

"Yes, ma'am," Alex chanted.

The boys left the house in minutes, fully equipped with gear. If you weren't so focused on Johnny's safety, you'd notice the ache between your legs as soon as you saw them with your gear and how Kyle kissed you goodbye with so much passion.

"Gathered the stuff." Simon came up with all the things in his bulky arms. You took the towels and soaked them in cold water, putting them on his muscular legs. Simon watched every movement, making sure you saved his Johnny.

"It's just a fever, probably, and John went away with the others to gather some stuff from a nearby hospital."

"I can't lose him."

"I know."

You repeated that procedure for over an hour until his fever went down. He was still a bit drowsy, but he was safe.

"You saved him again."

"I did."

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

Two days later, Johnny was as healthy as he could be. He still slept a lot, but he woke up more often. And he was a pain in the ass; he never took his medication and always flirted with you, telling you that you're a pure angel and that he can't wait to finally be on his feet again. And how the others wouldn't be able to put some cubs in you like he could.

You would be lying to yourself if you said you weren't charmed by him. He made butterflies pop up in your stomach, and when you saw him kissing Simon, it was over for you. You wanted both so badly. The others still haven't returned from their raid, so you lay on the couch with Ghost, reading a book; he gave you one of his shirts to wear around the house.

"Can we cuddle a bit? It's getting cold in here."

"Sure, go ahead," he replied, sitting back down on the couch. He patted the spot next to him, indicating for you to join him. As you curled up against him, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer. "What are you reading?" His eyes glistened with interest. You waited years for someone to be interested in you, and now you had five men—well, seven—but you didn't meet the other two, who were completely interested in you.

"Just a romance novel," you replied shortly. You knew it was a bit steamy, but you didn't want to tell him.

"Ah, I see. Well, make sure you share the juicy parts with me," Simon teased. He leaned his head against yours and started to flip through the pages of the book. "This isn't too bad," he commented after a few minutes. "Oh, do you like these things?" He pointed to a passage where the male spanked the woman, and you couldn't stop blushing; of course, you liked that.

"No, it's embarrassing when you read it. Stop, Simon."

Simon chuckled and closed the book, setting it down on the coffee table. "Alright, alright, I was just trying to be nice," he said, pretending to be hurt by your response. He leaned back onto the couch, letting out a content sigh.

You leaned against him, burying your face in his pecks. You lingered in his smell; he smelled fantastic, like sandalwood and pine. You inhaled his scent and sighed contentedly.

Simon's eyes closed as you buried your face in his chest. He could feel his heart racing and his breath becoming short. This wasn't supposed to happen, he told himself. But the warmth of your body against him, the softness of your skin—it was all too much.

"Si, do you think we are alone for a long time?" You wondered when the others would come back.

Simon opened his eyes and looked down at you. "Honestly, I don't know," he said quietly. "We could be here for hours, or we could be interrupted at any moment." He reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

"You saw Alex and me, didn't you?"

"Yes"

"He made me feel good," he did; in fact, he made you feel desired. Every one of them did, but in different ways, but you still weren't sure about Simon. He loved Johnny, and even if both of them desired you, they had each other. Maybe they just wanted to use you as an incubator to get them a child, but nothing more. Alex at least gave you the feeling of truly respecting you, while Price worshiped the ground you walked on. Johnny was amazed by your appearance, but Simon awakened a lust in you.

Simon frowned at your comment. "Alex made you feel good?" he asked, trying to keep his voice even. "Is that why you went to him instead of me?" He sounded jealous. How did they agree on sharing you when all of them were so possessive and jealous all the time?

"No, look, I'm just sometimes not sure if you see me like that. In one moment, you're cuddling me, and in the other moment, you glare at me like I'm some scum."

Simon sighed heavily, knowing he'd messed up. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "I don't mean to treat you like that. It's just... sometimes I get frustrated and take it out on you." He paused for a moment.

"I can understand that with Johnny's injury, it took a toll on you."

"Yeah, well, that's no excuse," Simon said with a frown. "I should be able to handle my emotions better than that." He paused for a moment before reaching out to gently squeeze your hand.

"Did you like how I took good care of him?"

Simon hesitated before speaking. "It was nice of you to help him, but I wish I would have been able to be as useful as you," he said eventually.

"You aren't useless. I'm useless. I can't even use a fucking gun," you admitted.

"Yeah, well, things are complicated," Simon admitted. He squeezed your hand again before letting go and standing up. "I'm gonna go take a shower or bath or whatever you call this."

"It would be good in times like this to save some water," you said cheekily, sounding like a fucking man on Tinder. You needed to improve your flirting skills.

Simon rolled his eyes but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Alright, smartass," he muttered under his breath before heading into the bathroom to clean himself.

You were thinking of joining him, but you didn't want to intrigue him or make him uncomfortable.

You thought about using the short alone time you had to acknowledge the ache between your legs. You slowly started to remove the lingerie under his oversized shirt and rub your clit. It felt so good; you missed Alex's touch and John's. You needed them all.

You started to finger yourself, pumping your short fingers in and out in frustration since they didn't reach the right spot. You were so concentrated on getting the slightest bit of satisfaction that you didn't notice him joining the room again.

Your one hand was pinching your hardened nipple, the other fingering your sweet spot, your back ached, and you noticed how you got closer to the sweet release you needed: "Fuck Simon, fuck me."

Simon couldn't help but chuckle at the sight before him. You were so caught up in your pleasure that you didn't even notice he was there. He stepped closer, his hard-on tenting his towel, as he watched you pinch your nipple and finger yourself.

"Mhm, fuck," you whined as you slipped in another finger. The sound of your moan and the sight of your fingers sliding in and out of your moist folds sent a shudder of desire through him. You were so wet and eager for release; it made him want to pull you up for a rough fuck.

He slowly started to stroke himself. The sight of his shirt coated in your juices only made him harder. He loved the thought of you being so turned on by him that you couldn't help but cum all over his clothes. "Mmm, you're such a dirty little slut."

"What? Oh god, Simon, how long are you watching?" you said, removing your fingers that were coated from your throbbing core in embarrassment. In all your years alive, you had never been caught masturbating before.

"Long enough to see you get yourself off," Simon smirked in response, his voice laced with amusement. The smell of your arousal, mixed with the steam from the shower, was driving him wild. His cock twitched at the thought of being buried deep inside you.

"Oh fuck, I'm so sorry, I was just so woken up."

"Don't apologize," Simon said, his voice low and rough. He stepped closer, his towel dropping to the floor as he revealed his erect cock. "I quite enjoyed watching you pleasure yourself."

You swallowed as you saw his hard-on. When you thought John was big, you were wrong. Simon was massive; he had at least 9 inches. How was this even possible? He was deliciously curved with an oh my god, is that a piercing?

"Oh god, it's fucking big. How does that fit in someone?" he just smirked before replying.

"I'll make sure it fits perfectly inside you," Simon replied, a sinister grin spreading across his face. He walked towards you, his massive cock bobbing with each step.

"Now, why don't you take care of that for me?"

You glided down on your knees in front of him, licking all over his tip and savoring his delicious pre cum "Oh god, I love your piercing down there."

Simon let out a low groan as you began to worship his cock, your tongue flicking over the piercing at the tip. "Yes, I have one," he said, his voice thick with desire. "Now suck on it and show me how much you want my cock inside you."

"Will it hurt if you fuck me?" You couldn't deny the fear of his dick splitting you in half.

"It might initially, but trust me, it'll feel fantastic," Simon replied, running his fingers through your hair. His other hand gripped your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. "I promise I'll take it slow and make sure you're ready for my cock."

You slowly wrapped your mouth around his cock, trying to fit it all in your sweet mouth, but it was too big. You almost gagged, and tears fell on your beautiful cheeks from the sudden loss of air.

Simon couldn't help but chuckle as he watched you struggle to take his cock in your mouth. "You're doing great, baby girl," he said, pulling back slightly. "Just take it slow and try not to choke."

You slowly bobbed your head up and down, and his tip hit your throat. Simon couldn't help but let out a moan as you bobbed your head up and down his shaft. The feeling of your soft lips and warm tongue wrapped around him was driving him wild. "Fuck, that feels good," he muttered, reaching down to stroke your hair gently.

Simon's hips began to thrust involuntarily as you continued to suck on his cock, your moans vibrating against his shaft. He gripped your hair tighter, pulling you away from him slightly. "Fuck, Babygirl, you're killing me."

You grabbed his balls and squeezed them in a teasing manner.

Simon groaned deeply, feeling the pleasure shoot through his body. "God, that's it," he murmured, pushing into your mouth again as you began to stroke his balls gently. "You're such a naughty little slut." The mixture of degradation and praise made you go crazy.

You bobbed your head faster, and Simon's moans turned into grunts as you took him deeper into your mouth, the head of his cock brushing against the back of your throat. His hips bucked forward, pushing against your face as he lost control. "I'm going to cum," As he felt his orgasm approaching, Simon gripped your hair tighter, pulling you away from his cock just enough for him to slide it out of your mouth. "Swallow," he commanded, his voice dark and demanding.

You swallowed it, but it was way too much; it ran down from the curve of your lips to your perfect breasts, making you look like a painting.

Simon watched as you swallowed his cum, a mix of satisfaction and pride filling him up. He admired the sight of it running down your breasts, making them glisten in the dim light. "That's my good girl," he praised, reaching out to cup one of your breasts. He scoped the cum from your nipples, putting it in your mouth.

He smirked as he watched you clean his fingers with your tongue, enjoying the taste of his cum. "You're such a dirty little slut," he said, his voice low and seductive. "But I love every fucking second of it."

"I'm not a slut; I'm a good girl," you protested.

Simon raised an eyebrow at your comment. "Is that so? Then why are you sucking my cock and letting me cum all over your face and tits?" he asked, his tone full of sarcasm. "Sounds like slutty behavior to me."

"Because I'm a good girl, and good girls satisfy their men."

Simon couldn't help but chuckle at your response. "Well, I guess that makes sense," he admitted, his grip on your breast tightening slightly. "You're a good girl when it comes to pleasing me."

"Can you maybe return the favor?" you asked shyly.

Simon grinned at your request. "Of course, baby girl," he said, reaching down to stroke your pussy. "You've been such a good girl for me today; I think it's only fair that I return the favor."

He admired the sight of your wet pussy, glistening in the dim light. "Fuck, you're so fucking sexy," he growled.

"I need your tongue there, please."

With a devilish grin, Simon leaned down and teased your sensitive folds with his tongue. "You want my tongue, huh?" he asked before pushing past your entrance and thrusting his tongue deep inside you. Simon chuckled at your moan as he continued to lick and probe your tight little pussy. He loved the way you responded to him, especially when you begged for more. "That's it, baby," he whispered between licks.

"Fuck Simon, so good."

Simon loved hearing you moan his name. It only fueled his desire for you more. With one hand on your hip, he used the other to slide two fingers inside you, finding your G-spot and massaging it while his tongue continued to lap at your pussy like a hungry dog. "That's right, baby," Simon growled against your wet folds. "You like that? You want more?"

He picked up the pace, his fingers thrusting deeper inside you as he sucked harder on your clit.

"Yes, please, more feels so good."

He grinned at your enthusiastic response. "Good girl," he praised you, sliding his fingers in and out of you while still working your clit with his tongue. "You're so wet for me. You taste so fucking divine."

"Please Si"

"Please, what, baby?" Simon asked, lifting his head to look down at you with a smirk. "You want to feel even better?" He asked, sliding his fingers deeper inside you before circling his thumb around your hard, swollen clit.

"Make me cum, please. Simon's thumb began to rub circles around your clit, making you squirm beneath him.

"Cum for me, baby girl," he demanded, his voice rough and full of desire. "I want to see you lose control." You came on his tongue, screaming, whining, and shaking. Simon felt you tighten around his fingers as your orgasm hit, and he couldn't resist sucking harder on your clit to milk every last drop of pleasure from you.

He loved the way you screamed and whined, your body shaking with the intensity of your release.

"Stop Stop it too much."

Simon smirked as he felt your walls clenching around his fingers, knowing that you were on the brink of squirting. "Go ahead, baby," he encouraged you. "Let it all out for me."

"Mhm, fuck Simon too much."

Simon chuckled as you begged him to stop, but he couldn't resist the urge to push you further. With one hand, he gently pressed against your belly to make it even worse, while he continued to stimulate your clit with the other. "You like being controlled?"

You tried to move your legs away, pushing them together, not wanting to lose control.

Simon watched as you tried unsuccessfully to move your legs away. He smiled cruelly at your futile efforts before tightening his grip on your thighs. "I think you need to learn who's really in charge here," he growled.

Simon relished in the power he had over you as he brought you to yet another orgasm. He could see the pleasure and frustration warring on your face, and it only fueled his desires. "Do you like feeling so helpless?"

"Yes, Simon," you whined, enjoying his dominant behavior.

"Good girl," Simon praised you, his voice thick with satisfaction. He continued to tease you, pressing his fingers inside you just a little bit deeper each time, seeking out any remaining pleasure centers within your tight little pussy.

He started to place small slaps on your abused clit.

"Ahh, fuck."

Simon moaned as he felt your walls clench around his fingers. The combination of pleasure and pain from your reactions was addictive. He couldn't help but increase the intensity of both, slapping your clit harder with each passing moment. With a hard slap, you came a fifth time, squirting all over his face - coating him completely, and the couch under you,

He let out a low growl of satisfaction as he felt your pussy clenching tightly around his fingers one last time before releasing them from their grip.

"I'm sorry," you said.

"Don't apologize," Simon murmured, his gaze lingering on you. "That was fucking beautiful; you taste like pure heaven."

You looked at his throbbing dick, reaching for it.

Simon saw the look in your eyes and grinned, wrapping his hand around his throbbing erection. "You want more?" he asked, already knowing the answer. "You're such a greedy little slut," he teased you before guiding his cock to your entrance. You winced as he put it inside you, inch for inch.

"I know it's big, but you can take it," Simon grunted, his eyes locked on yours as he began to pound into you. The head of his cock hit your cervix with each powerful stroke, filling you.

You were so tight around him that it felt like heaven itself was wrapped around his shaft.

Feeling your legs wrap around his hips, Simon groaned low in pleasure. The sensation of being so tightly held while he thrust into you was exquisite. He reached down between your bodies, his fingers finding their way to your clit.

"No too much, Si."

Simon couldn't help but laugh at your attempts to pull him out. "I told you it was going to be big," he teased, slamming himself into you harder. His hand on your clit moved faster, his fingers tracing over the sensitive nub.

"Hurts so good," you admitted.

"You like pain, then?" Simon growled, his face twisted with lust and anger. With one last hard push, he buried himself deep within you, as far as he could go. "Say it, you fucking slut. Tell me you love it."

"I love it when you're rough with me, Si," you moaned. He felt like heaven and hell at the same time inside of you. His big cum-loaded balls hit your ass all over again, leaving his mark on you.

"Fuck yes, you do," Simon hissed, grabbing your hips and slamming himself into you over and over again. His fingers on your clit were relentless, rubbing in circles to drive you closer to the edge. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk straight," Simon warned, his voice low and rough. He pulled out of you with a wet pop and spun you around, pushing you on all fours and arching your back.

Simon slammed himself into you from behind, his hands gripping your hips as he thrust into you with all his strength. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, and he could feel you clenching around him, trying to keep up with his powerful strokes.

Simon's fingers dug into your hips as he pounded into you, his breathing becoming ragged. "You like that?" He asked roughly, knowing the answer well. "You love it when I take you hard and rough, don't you?"

"Yes Si"

Simon's pace quickened, his movements becoming more frantic as he reached the edge of release. He leaned down and bit your shoulder, growling incoherently as he felt himself about to cough. "Your pussy is so fucking tight."

As you begged him for more, Simon's cock throbbed even harder, the head hitting your cervix with each powerful thrust. He grabbed your hair and pulled your head back, exposing your neck to his hungry mouth. "No one took me so good as you did."

"Mhm, fuck, best cunt you ever had?"

Simon grunted as he felt himself about to explode inside of you. "Best cunt I ever fucking had," he growled into your ear, kissing you all over your neck.

"Mhm, Si, please fill me up."

He smiled, his teeth bared in a devilish grin. "You want my baby in your belly?" he asked, his voice a low growl. For the first time, you betrayed yourself and nodded. You wanted his fucking baby and nothing more than it.

"I'm going to fuck a baby inside of you." Simon's thrusts became even more powerful, his hips slamming into yours as he felt himself reach the peak of pleasure. "You're going to be a Riley," he growled, feeling his cock twitch and throb inside you as he filled you with his seed.

As you both came together, Simon's seed mixed with your sweet nectar. He continued to push his cum over and over again into your cervix, lifting your legs, not allowing one drop to escape before he impregnated you.

After he turned soft, He pulled out of you and collapsed on the couch, panting heavily as he watched his thick, white cum drip from your pussy onto the fabric.

You couldn't stop laughing as you saw his cum dripping from your fucked-out core.

Simon grinned at you, his eyes glinting playfully. "You think that's funny?" He asked, reaching over to give you a light swat on the ass. "Just wait until we have to deal with a tiny little mini-me running around."

"Oh god, that will be hell." You laughed, but somehow you wanted this baby to be his. It was selfish; he had Johnny, and you were only a tool for him.

"You know you aren't a slut; I just thought you liked the degrading," he kissed you on your forehead and then down to your nose, to your plump lips.

"I loved it."

"You look sad for someone who had six orgasms."

"It's just that sometimes I feel like an incubator for all of you, not like a person." Small tears escaped your eyes, and you felt pathetic. You should have said this to Alex and not to Simon.

"Oh, baby girl, you aren't. The captain is smitten with you. Gaz is obsessed with every word you say. Alex made love to you. And Johnny and I look. I know we're a couple, but we are Poly, and we don't want to have just your baby. All Johnny talks about is the sweet angel who saved him. You are important, and I'm sorry if I made you feel that way." Your heart swells at his words.

"You made me feel amazing, Si."

"And I will continue, baby girl, and now on your belly, let me give you a massage. You deserve it after taking it like a champ."