#if I can get my shit together and double down this week

[paradoxolotl]

God I need a hug :(

[clockwayswrites]

The Birdritch's Nest part 25

masterpost

“That is a lot of plants,” Jason said. He swept his eyes over the space as he slipped his lock picks back into their little pouch.

“He has a botanist friend, apparently, and she keeps giving him plants,” Dick explained as he squeezed past Jason and into the apartment.

“Why are you here again?”

“Because I have a car which is better to carry all of Danny’s stuff in than your bike,” Dick explained. He went over to the wall of plants in front of the windowed corner and squinted down at something on his phone.

Jason pulled out his own phone to glance at what Tim had sent. “You say ‘all Danny’s stuff’ like the list was long. The guy hasn’t exactly been demanding.”

“The ‘guy’ expects to actually go home in a few days,” Dick pointed out.

“And is an adult and so can, you know, actually go home,” Jason retorted.

“Damian’s attached.”

“…I concede to your point,” Jason said once that thought sunk in. “Double the clothing asked for?”

“Basically. Make sure that he has a weeks worth, Alfred can always do laundry,” Dick said before letting out a little noise of triumph and doing something over by the plants. “There, watering system turned on.”

“Congratulations, you’re a genius,” Jason drawled. “Now go get his medication gathered up and snoop a little while you’re at it.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to be snooping,” Dick, words a teasing sing-song as he passed by.

Jason flicked him off. “Like you wouldn’t anyways. I just want to know what you find.”

“Only if you tell me what you find in the bedroom.”

“Deal.”

The bedroom was almost startlingly normal after the plant filled living main room. It didn’t look like Danny really spent much time in it beyond sleeping. The bed was absentmindedly fixed, a black down comforter over pale blue sheets. There was a paperback on the nightstand next to a lamp and a pocket sized notebook with a pen clipped onto the bent and battered cover.

It was the first thing that Jason picked up.

The notebook was obviously where Danny made notes when he was already settled in bed. As Jason flipped through the pages there was everything from to-do lists to invention ideas to… a lot of thought about wings. Jason turned the notebook in his hands. That page wasn’t in English. The language felt like it was on the tip of Jason’s tongue but he just couldn’t get it out.

Maybe some sort of dialect?

Jason couldn’t actually read it, but there was enough to piece together from similarities that tugged on his memory. Enough to understand it was about the wings. Something about the process of change? Aging?

“Hey Jay?” Dick interrupted, scattering Jason’s thoughts. “Can you read the label on these bottles? There’s some serious printing issues happening, I can’t even tell what language it’s in.”

The pill bottle felt oddly cold in Jason’s hand when he took it from Dick, but maybe the bathroom just had shit heating in this place. It would be just like Gotham builders to mess that up.

“Oh, that’s the same thing Danny is writing in here,” Jason said passing the notebook to Dick. “It’s something about wings and getting old, I think, but I can’t really read it.”

“Read it? I don’t even know what it is. Gives me a headache just to look at it,” Dick grumbled as he flipped through the notebook. “The whole bird thing has really been on his mind, hasn’t it?”

Jason gave a little huff. “Do you blame him? The guy has wings now. It would be on my mind too.”

“Yeah… guess I really can’t,” Dick said and snapped a picture of the page with the unknown writing to send to the group chat. “Any idea what it is?”

“Nope. It’s like it’s a distant dialect or that it uses some of the same alphabet of something I learned some of once. Like how Chinese and Japanese use some of the same characters, you know?” Jason explained as he opened the side table drawer and then quickly closed it again. That was more than he needed to know about Danny. “Maybe something from when I was catatonic in the league, who knows. There were a lot of languages in that place.”

“Cass or Damian might now it then,” Dick said as he eyed the drawer Jason had now moved away from.

“Don’t, trust me,” Jason said. “Did you get the medications you needed to grab?”

“Yeah, they’re in the bag. Just a standard bathroom, really. Though he keeps his toothbrush in this old mug with a hero I don’t recognize on it, someone called Phantom.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell, but it sure sounds like a hero name. Add it to the list,” Jason said as he started on gathering up the requested clothing and extra enough to last a week. “Check the closet to see if there are any shits in there that work around wings.”

Jason rolled his eyes as Dick threw the closet doors open dramatically and focused on his task. Jeans, sweatpants, underwear, what he guessed was pajamas were all added to the bag.

“So, nothing that looks like it was made for wings,” Dick said and tossed some normal shirts and a few sweaters into the bag. Jason sighed and folded them neatly. “Maybe he hasn’t had time to find any yet? It hasn’t been that long since the bird thing and seems it all started there. Or maybe he’s just always home when he’s had then?”

“Better let Alfred know then. He’ll want to get something as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, good point,” Dick agreed.

While Dick stepped out of the bedroom to call Alfred, Jason took the time to double check the list. It really was pretty basic. Jason didn’t know if Danny was just trying to not be demanding or if the guy didn’t need much, but Jason went ahead and put the bedside paperback and notebook in the bad too. Jason slung the duffel bag Dick had brought over his shoulder (he totally could have ridden his bike like this) and took a little bit of time to snoop through Danny’s bookcase while Dick finished the call. Sci-fi, horror, old text books, and a ton of notebooks filled the shelf with knickknacks and a few figures. Jason at least had to give Danny points for having some of the sci-fi classics, even if the range of works was pretty limited.

“Okay, Alfred is on it,” Dick said. “Anything else we need to do?”

“Nah, I think we’re good,” Jason said. Something made him not want to look through the notebooks, like they had already done enough snooping. It was an odd feeling. “Let’s get going, I’m hungry for whatever dinner is.”

“You’re always hungry,” Dick said.

Jason shrugged rather than dealing with how true that statement was. “I’m a growing boy.”

“You’re a trash pit.”

“Yeah, you want to go there, cereal boy?”

“Leave my cereal out of it!”

---

AN: I do love writing Dick & Jason so much. Can you tell I have an older brother? Also sorry for the mistakes I'm sure are abounding. Guess who turns out to be anemic? This critter! Maybe getting that fixed will help...

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: No Hesitation

Request: From anonymous: “I had an idea for Tyler Owens!! I feel like Tyler would be the type of guy that if a girl came up to him and said ‘this guy is creepy, pls pretend to be my bf’ he would be like ‘hell yay’ and scare the guy away without making the girl uncomfortable?? Maybe you could do a scenario like that with reader?? Thank youuu!!! Lots of love!!”

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: none

A/N: guys.... i'm down bad for tyler owens, pls send help (or requests so i can keep writing about him). anywayyy, enjoy!

“You comin’ T?” Boone asked as he peered into Tyler’s motel room. 

Tyler glanced up from where he sat on the edge of his creaky, double mattress and nodded. “Yeah, I just need to grab a shirt that doesn’t smell like pig shit.”

“Good luck with that,” Boone chuckled. “We haven't done laundry in almost three weeks– just about everything in my bag smells like pig shit.”  

“Maybe it’s time we popped home for a bit,” Tyler muttered as he continued digging through his bag. Finally, he pulled out an unused, plain, T-shirt that had been folded at the bottom of his duffel. “What kind of place is this, Boone?” he asked as he pulled the shirt over his head. 

“Just a bar, man. Nothin’ fancy. They got darts though, and a pool table. Which, by the way, I bet you fifty bucks I can smoke you at.”

“Boone, you don’t even have fifty bucks,” Tyler replied, shaking his head. He stood up from the bed and joined his friend in the hallway, shutting his motel room door behind him. 

“Do too,” Boone said defensively as they began walking towards the parking lot to join the rest of the team. 

“Oh you mean the fifty bucks I gave you to get the van’s oil changed last week? Which now I’m assuming you never did–” 

“An honest mistake,” Boone said, putting his hands up in surrender. “They were closed the day you gave it to me, then I’ll be honest, I forgot about it. But my point is, beat me at pool and that money is yours again.” 

“I don’t want the money to be mine again, I want the van to get an oil change.”

“Well you get your fifty bucks back and you can use it for whatever you’d like– oil change included.”

Tyler shook his head, knowing there was no use arguing with his friend. 

“What’re you two love birds arguing about now?” Lilly asked. She was perched on the hood of Tyler’s truck looking at footage she’d taken from her drone earlier in the day. 

“T’s too scared to play me in pool,” Boone answered before Tyler could. 

“Aw,” Lilly said teasingly. “Nothin’ to be scared of. We’ll still love ya, even if Boone kicks your ass.”

“Yeah, T,” Dani added from the front seat of the van. They had the door kicked open and their feet resting out the rolled down window. “There’s no shame in losin’. Only in never trying.”

“I oughta just leave the lot of you behind. Me and Dexter can take things from here. Isn’t that right, Dex?”

“Sure,” Dexter said casually. “But I’ll have you know I can also beat your ass at pool.”

“Unbelievable,” Tyler muttered to himself. “Who’s ridin’ with me?”

Lilly and Boone’s hands shot up. “Shotgun,” Boone announced. 

“You always get shotgun,” Lilly muttered as she climbed into the backseat of his truck. 

“We’ll meet you guys there,” Dani said as they pulled their feet into the van and started it up. Dexter climbed into the passenger seat and then the group of them were off. 

It took about fifteen minutes to get to the bar Boone had been going on about all day. He insisted they served the best chicken wings in all of Tulsa. Tyler would be the judge of that. 

The parking lot was relatively full– but not surprisingly so for a Saturday night. 

“If you have more than three drinks, you’re ridin’ back with Dani, you understand?” Tyler said to Boone as the five of them walked into the bar together. “I’m not havin’ you get sick in my truck for a second time.”

“Whatever you say, Dad,” Boone said sarcastically. “I’m gonna mark my territory at the pool table– let ‘em know we’re next. Grab me whatever’s on tap, will ya?”

He didn’t even wait for Tyler’s confirmation before darting off, Dani and Dexter on his tail. 

Meanwhile, Tyler and Lilly made their way to the bar to order for everyone else. “Man, he’s full of it today,” he muttered once they reached the counter. 

“Yeah, well. We’re all a little restless,” Lilly admitted. “It’s been a long few weeks without much action. Boone’s kinda like a puppy. Except instead of walks he needs adrenaline rushes and excessive fun. Tonight’ll be good for him.” 

Tyler chuckled as he turned to check where the bartender was at. Except, as soon as he did, his elbow collided with the person beside him. 

“Sorry–” he said quickly, eyes wandering down. 

His words caught in his mouth at the sight of an unfamiliar, but beautiful girl. You were gazing back up at him with equal surprise, mouth hung open slightly. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. 

“That’s okay,” you answered quickly. “I was standin’ too close.” 

“No other way to really do it in here it seems,” he said. 

You smiled sweetly. “I know– it’s never this busy here, even on the weekends.”

“You come here a lot?” he asked, just trying to keep the conversation going. 

“I wouldn’t say a lot, but enough. Any time I have a hankering for some wings.”

Tyler adjusted his body so that he was facing you entirely now. He was boxing Lilly out– but she’d understand. Especially after she got a look at how gorgeous you were. “You know, my buddy said they were good. I didn’t entirely believe him. But if you say so…”

“You’re gonna trust a total stranger over your buddy?” you asked teasingly. 

Tyler tilted his head to the side. “If you met my buddy, you’d understand why. You know we’re all gonna play some pool in a bit if you wanted to–”

“Hey Y/N, there you are!” Tyler heard someone say, cutting him off. He watched as your head snapped around. A man– tall with broad shoulders and black hair, was pushing through the crowd towards you. 

“I gotta go,” you said to Tyler quickly, instantly causing his shoulders to fall. “Have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too,” he grumbled. He turned back towards the bar to avoid seeing you reunite with who he supposed was probably your boyfriend. 

“Don’t sweat it, T,” Lilly said, clapping him on the back. “You’ll get the next one.”

Tyler rolled his eyes, kicking himself for letting himself get his hopes up over a stupid, two minute conversation. 

Once he and Lilly got everyone’s drinks, the pair of them made their way back towards the pool table which Boone had successfully taken over. No time was wasted before Boone was insisting the pair play. 

To Tyler’s absolute dismay– he really did suck. 

He lost three games in a row before finally calling it quits. He opted to sit at a high top table with Dexter, watching Lilly and Boone compete instead. 

Tyler was just about to throw down the last of his beer when suddenly, he felt an arm loop through his.  He turned to tell who he assumed was Dani, that they’d had way too much to drink, but before he could, a voice (that certainly didn't match Dani’s) rang out. 

“Hi baby, there you are!”  

Dexter, who was sitting across from Tyler, glanced at him surprised. 

Tyler looked to his left and locked eyes with the same girl from the bar earlier. Except now, she was gazing at Tyler desperately. Without warning and before Tyler could even react, you leaned closer to him. 

In a hurried whisper, you spoke so that only Tyler could hear. “There’s a guy over there. I keep asking him to, but he won’t leave me alone– can you just pretend to know me so that he’ll go away?”

Then, you press your lips to the side of Tyler’s cheek quickly, like it was a gesture the two of you had shared thousands of times. You continued holding on to his arm, your eyes wildly trying to communicate how terrified you clearly were, as you looked pleadingly at him to help you. 

Tyler’s face broke out into a huge grin as he, with absolutely no hesitation, took on the role of boyfriend for a complete stranger. He wiggled his arm out of your grasp and instead wound it around your waist, pulling you tightly into his side. 

You were taken aback by how secure and safe you suddenly felt. 

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Tyler replied.  He could visibly see the look of relief that washed over your face once you realized he had decided to play along. 

Tyler tugged at your hip, indicating that he wanted you to lean in closer. You took his hint and tilted your head towards him.  

“Which guy is it?” he asked discreetly. 

“Red shirt, black hair,” you mumbled quietly. It was only then that you notice the other man sharing the table with your rescuer. You offered him an apologetic smile, hoping that he was intuitive enough to pick up on the cues you’d been dropping.  

Next you noticed the rest of his group scattered around the pool table. Initially, they were in the middle of a game when you came over, but now, their attention had shifted. You glanced at the beautiful girl with tanned skin and long, braided hair, holding a pool stick. She offered you a small, but cautious smile. You hoped it wasn’t her boyfriend you were currently draped over.  Then, there’s another guy– with messy black hair topped with an old, worn ball cap. He had a confused look on his face, but when the girl leaned over and whispered something in his ear, his eyes lit up in understanding. 

The man you were clinging to rubbed your hip bone gently with his thumb. The sensation sent sparks across the entire surface of your skin. You wondered if he even realized he was doing it.  

You’d seen him at the bar earlier and had gotten a good, gut feeling about his demeanor. He seemed genuine and kind– even though you’d only managed about a two minute conversation with him before the man who’d been following you around all night came back. It wasn’t until after you darted off that you realized you should have just explained what was going on right then and there. 

You’d realized he was handsome earlier, but this was the first time you’d gotten a good look at him up close, now that your nerves had calmed down and you felt like you were able to breathe again. You wanted to give yourself a pat on the back, because it seemed like you’d chosen the best looking man in the entire bar, if not world, to be your pretend boyfriend. He had distinct features– a strong jaw, tanned skin, and eyes so green, it made you feel like spring was blooming. His brows were furrowed into a firm line as he scoured the bar nonchalantly, looking for the man who had led you to him. You felt grateful that this complete stranger cared enough to help you out.  

“That him?” he asked, nodding in the direction he wanted you to look. 

You turned your head and watched in dismay as the creepy man from earlier approached. 

“Shit– yes.”

“I got ya, don’t worry,” he murmured gently. “Can I help you?” he asked, turning once the man was within earshot. 

He stopped in his tracks, eyes glued to you. “I was jus’ lookin’ for her,” the man said, words slurring together. 

“And what use do you have for my girlfriend?” he challenged, grip around your waist tightening. 

“Sorry man– she didn’t tell me she had a boyfriend.”

“But she did tell you to leave her alone, right?”

“Yeah, jus’ thought she was playin’ hard to get. You know how these girls can be–”

“No, I don’t actually,” Tyler said. “I think if she said leave her alone… you should probably leave her alone.”

The man put his hands up in surrender. “Easy man, I didn’t mean any harm by it. Like I said, I didn’t realize she was taken.”

“I don’t think you’re getting it–” Tyler said, standing up from his chair to face the man. You were surprised by how cold you felt without his hand around your waist. 

“You don’t get to just choose to respect her now that you know she has a boyfriend.” 

“You tryin’ to start something here, man?” The guy narrowed his beady eyes. 

“Why? You offerin?” Tyler took another step forward, anger surging in his chest faster than he anticipated.  

“Might be,” the man said, meeting Tyler halfway. The two were face to face now– things were escalating. 

But before things could get out of hand, the guy from behind the pool table hurried over. “Easy, T–” he placed a hand on his shoulder before facing the guy. “Why don’t you just back off, man? Get outta here.”

“Yeah, c’mon–” two more people from his group stepped forward. Like a small army, you thought. All stepping up to protect you– a total stranger. 

There was a brief moment where the man studied the scene before him. Then, like he realized that taking on the four people defending you was a bad idea, he backed off. 

“Whatever, she’s not worth it anyway,” he said, throwing you one, final nasty glare before turning and stalking off. 

You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath until you saw him walk out the front door. Only when it snapped shut behind him were you able to exhale a shaky sigh.  

That guy’s been following me all night. I thought I could handle it, but then he got really mad when I wouldn’t let him give me a drink,” you said shakily. 

“What a creep,” one of them said. 

“Thank you so much–” you said, utterly relieved. Then, you introduced yourself to the table of people you’d abruptly intruded upon. 

“Don’t mention it, glad we could help. I’m Tyler.” 

The others had gathered around the table now and each introduced themselves as well. 

“You were right to trust your gut,” Dani said, offering you a reassuring nod. 

“Yeah, who knows what that creep might’ve stuck in your drink.”

You shivered at the thought. 

“Well, I guess I’m glad I crashed your table then,” you smiled, turning to Tyler. For more than one reason, you thought, taking in the sweet laughter lines around his eyes and full lips. You caught yourself staring and forcibly looked away. You weren’t even drunk, but Tyler made your head spin.  

“Anyways, I should go,” you said quickly. You had to remind yourself of the circumstances.  You’d practically mauled Tyler in front of his friends and forced him to get into a brawl in the middle of the bar. And no matter how breathtakingly attractive you found him, there was no denying the fact that this entire situation was awkward and uncomfortable. You cleared your throat. “I’m really sorry for intruding, thank you again.”  

Tyler was still entirely dumbstruck, even as you walked away. It was like his brain couldn’t keep up with whatever the hell just happened. He watched as you disappeared through the crowd of people. 

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Dani spoke up.  

“Huh?” Tyler turns towards them. 

“She was into you, Tyler.”

He wasn’t sure he heard them right. The bar was loud and Tyler’s mind wasn’t working properly tonight, thanks to you and whatever perfume you’d been wearing. 

Lilly nodded her head in agreement, “And if I had to guess by the drool on your chin, I’d say you were into her too.” 

Feeling a little ganged up on, Tyler just stares at his team in disbelief. “I don’t– I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Boone shook his head and chuckled as he walked back towards the pool table. “Man, I have never– in our entire ten years of friendship, seen a girl leave Tyler Owens speechless– this one might be special folks,” Boone chuckled. 

“Go after her, you dummy,” Lilly said. 

“And do what?” Tyler asked. 

Dani scoffed, “Talk to her– invite her back to the table– literally anything but let her just walk away, you idiot.”

Slightly offended, but more motivated, Tyler stood up from the table and finally took the last sip of his beer. It was warm, but he used it as a final attempt at some liquid courage, before striding off after you. The crowd of people was thick, but he was confident that no matter where you were, you’d stand out.  

Sure enough, he spotted you across the bar. You had left your glass on the counter and were currently shifting through your bag, looking for something. Tyler took a deep breath before walking over.  

He called your name, which he was proud to now know, causing you to look up from your things.  

“Tyler, hey,” you said, unable to hide the surprised smile that crept across your face.  

“So that was pretty weird, huh–” Tyler tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but all he did was realize how dry his mouth was. 

You bit your lip, “Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t mean to make it weird– I just– I was scared. He was so creepy, and you just looked like you’d make a good fake date…” 

Oh my god, what were you saying? You were rambling, like you always did when you were nervous. You took another sip of your drink, wishing it was something stronger. 

But a smirk crept up on Tyler’s face, like he could tell you were floundering. 

“Oh yeah?” His voice was playful. “And how do you think I’d be as a real date?”

Butterflies ran rampant in your stomach as you clenched down on your jaw, trying to play it cool. But it was hard to remain casual when you were pretty sure Tyler was asking you out. 

Your voice was hitched slightly higher than normal when you responded, “I think I’d like to find out sometime.”

Tyler flashed his white teeth in a stunning smile before nodding back towards the table he’d just come from. “How about we start now? I got a hankering for some wings, what do you say I get us a plate to share?”

With no hesitation, you reached for his outstretched hand. 

“Should we eat before or after I kick your ass at pool?” you smiled sweetly. 

[bookshelf-dust]

gentle fingers, gentler boy

carmen berzatto x fem!hairdresser!reader

gif by @hotch-girl

word count: 3,589

warnings: swearing, joking mentions of arson, one donna mention, i don’t think anything else??

synopsis: carmy needs a haircut—desperately. or so natalie tells him. she sends him to you, and it’s safe to say carmy never would’ve expected a trim would turn into the best date he’s ever had in his life.

a/n: hello, my loves! don’t even ask my why this fic has taken me so long to write because i couldn’t tell you. but i do imagine it has something to do with the fact that i have the attention span of a goldfish these days. anyhow, i wrote this as a kind of predecessor to this fic, because something about carmy and his hairdresser gf is so special to me. let me know what you think!! happy reading <33

————

“You really do need a haircut, Bear.”

Sugar leans up against the office door frame. Her younger brother is hunched over the desk, an Igor incarnate, flipping through a pile of papers Cicero left for him. 

Richie’s voice booms throughout the kitchen. “I been tellin’ him that, Sug! It needs a wash, too. He’s startin’ to look like Jack…Jack…” He snaps his fingers, searching for a name. “The psycho asshole from The Shining!”

“Jack Torrence,” Marcus chirps.

“Jack Torrence!” Richie claps, making Sugar roll her eyes. She moves closer to Carmen, leaning against the corner of the desk. She crosses her arms. 

“I told you, Carm, you can go see my girl. She’s never done me wrong.” 

That small, gentle smile she has grows on her lips. Natalie gently pushes her brother’s shoulder. “And hey, she stopped me from getting bangs again a few weeks ago.”

Richie’s hands fly upward, pressing together in a prayer pose. “Thank fuck. Bangs were never your look, babe.”

“Shut up, Richie!” Sugar and Carmen’s voices ring out simultaneously, as if they’d rehearsed for this very moment of synchronization.

Carmy’s clogs drag against the tile floor as he braces his palms against the desktop and pushes himself backwards. He scrubs his face with his hands, leaving it tinged red when he finally relents.

He looks up at his sister, a firm wrinkle formed between her brows. Carmen huffs.

“What did you say her name was?” Carmy asks, eyes darting to the clock, searching for the time only to realize no one ever fixed the damn thing. “Hey, Richie! Can you get some fuckin’ batteries in here?”

Sugar’s eyes squeeze shut at the volume Carm’s voice has just reached. But nevertheless, she pinches her nose and says your name. 

“She’s like, fifteen minutes down the road. She went to school for it, she respects shy people, and I promise–she’s not gonna cut your ear off.”

Richie rounds the corner at that exact moment, a pile of double A’s shoved in his pocket. He pulls the analog clock off the wall and pries open the back panel. “Oh, you mean like that time Mikey snipped the tip of his ear clean–”

“Oh my god, enough, Richard!” Sugar’s hands fly around in front of her face. Unfortunately it only encourages Richie further, laughing to himself as he snaps four batteries into place. He’s still laughing—clapping his hands together because he’s so tickled—when he walks back toward the front of the house. 

Carmen’s fist covers his mouth. He’s tempted to laugh himself, but he at least knows better by now. Natalie sighs loud enough for the people across the street to hear. 

“Look, Carm. I’ll even make the appointment for you if that would help, but it’s gotta happen. You look like shit.”

Carmy snorts, standing up from the wonky office chair. “Thanks, Nat.”

Sugar’s phone is already in her hand. 

“So that’s a yes? What time would be best? Actually, I’ll just tell you when you’re going. Settled.”

————

“You getting off, Leigh?”

Your coworker ties her hair up in an artfully messy bun. “Yeah, babe. I took a half day because it’s date night tonight.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, shimmying her way across the floor so she can plant a sweet kiss on your cheek.

“Your mom got the kids?” You ask, laughing to yourself as you rinse the leftover conditioner from your sink. 

Leigh claps her hands. “All weekend, girl!” 

You toss your gloves in the trash, letting her hug you and bounce up and down in glee. She deserves this. She hasn’t gotten a night out with her husband in months, their three-year-old twins keeping them more than occupied.

“I hope you have fun tonight. Drink something with Irish cream in it for me, will you?” 

Leigh’s hands pat your cheeks gently. “Oh, you know I will. Just wish you were getting out there too.”

You wave her away, and she’s quick to hold up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Is Natalie’s brother still coming in today?”

Your eyes dart to the clock over her head. “Should be here in like, five minutes.”

The doorbell chimes. 

Both yours and Leigh’s heads snap in that direction. 

“Or…now.”

“Oh, fucking Christ.”

Your eyes flick back to each other immediately, having spoken at the exact same time. Leigh is not gonna let your outburst go. 

There’s already a devilish grin growing across her face. “You think he’s hot, don’t you?”

You dart around her. “No. Those words never left my mouth.”

She catches you by the belt loop. “You’re right, I believe your exact words were ‘Oh fucking Christ, he could bend me over right here.’” Leigh’s laughter bubbles up and you fear she might keel over. 

“That is an exaggeration,” you huff. 

Leigh slings her worn out, bright red purse over her shoulder. “Bet you were thinking it though.” She risks a glance over her shoulder. “You’re not wrong though. His arms are huge. And you better go help him before we get a bad Yelp review.”

You start to wave her away. “Yeah, alright.” You follow her towards the front desk. “Have fun tonight,” you shout, “and remember to make sure you have meds for tomorrow’s hangover.”

She fake gasps, pausing just beside where Carmen is standing. “Me? Hungover? Never.” Leigh lowers her sunglasses just slightly and directs her next few words at the man in front of her. “She’ll take real good care of you, youngest Berzatto.”

The doorbell chimes as Leigh makes her way out to her beat up Mustang, leaving you and Carmy alone out front. 

He laughs awkwardly, shuffling towards the front counter to meet you.

“Sorry about her,” you say. “She’s full of it. Anyway, Carmen, right? Natalie told me you’d try and come by today.”

Carmy’s cheeks burn with embarrassment from being put on the spot. But also because you’re so…pretty. He manages to pull together a few coherent words. 

“She really said try?” he asks, the barest of smiles gracing his lips.

You cross your arms and walk over to your station. “No. It was more of ‘He’ll be there at 4:30 tomorrow or else I’m going to burn down The Bear and keep the insurance money for myself.’”

Carmen scratches at his curls. “Yeah, that I believe.”

You gently pat the back of your leather chair. “You can sit whenever you’re ready. I realize I never really introduced myself.” You say your name, and even if it’s a name Carm has heard a hundred times before, it somehow sounds hypnotizing falling off your lips. 

The leather backing is cold through Carmy’s t-shirt. He hopes the shiver that moves down his spine when you thread your fingers through his hair passes off as the coinciding goosebumps. 

“So, what are we thinking today, Carmen?”

His big blue eyes blink at you through the mirror. “Carmy,” he says.

“Hm?” you hum, running a wide-toothed comb carefully through his curls so that nothing snags. 

“You don’t have to call me Carmen. Makes me feel like I’m in trouble.” A low laugh tumbles over his lips. “Carmy is fine.”

You smile at him. “Okay, Carmy. What would you like me to do with your hair today? Buzz cut? Mohawk?” You walk around to face him head on. “Extensions?”

You notice how nervously he plays with his hands. But you get it. You’re hoping to make him as comfortable as you can, and not just for that good Google review.

Carmy runs a hand over his mouth, hiding the sweet smile that’s growing there. The crinkles by his eyes give it away. You’re so fucking charming he can’t stand it. 

He clears his throat. “I was thinking just a trim? It’s kinda long over my eyes, and sometimes it’s good to see things.” You giggle. 

Good god, how’s he gonna get through this?

“Maybe a little shorter on the sides, too.”

“Like a mullet?” You quip.

He snorts. “Nah, not a full mullet. Maybe where it’s barely noticeable that it’s shorter there? I’m also shit at taking care of it, so if you could help with that…”

You take your bottom lip between your teeth. Carmy has to clear his throat, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. “How ‘bout this. I’ll take you to the sink and give it a wash, and then we’ll trim it, and I can have you help me style it so it’s easier when you’re at home?”

Carmy nods. “Yeah, that’d be great, thank you.” 

Your hand slides across the back of his shoulders as you move away and towards the back room full of head-sized basins. “Come on then, Mr. Berzatto. Let’s wash that pretty head of yours.”

————

“That feels so good,” Carmen says, the words leaving his mouth before he has a moment to think them over. “Wait—is that a weird thing to say?”

You laugh from your place behind him. “No, not at all. That’s why I keep my nails a little longer, because my clients always tell me this is the best part.” Your hands are covered in a lavender-scented shampoo, your fingertips massaging the foam into his scalp. “A good head scratch does wonders for the soul.”

You watch Carmy’s lips lift at the corners. His eyes are closed, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he dozed off. You’re always happy to keep a conversation going with clients, but the silence is just as well.

The sounds of foils getting folded in place by your coworker out front, the air conditioner, the radio—it’s all oddly soothing. The radio station Leigh always sets it on has the oddest selection of music choices for one given channel. Not that you mind that either. 

You rinse Carmen’s hair out and apply conditioner to the mids and ends of his curls. You blindly grab a comb, muscle memory putting it in your grasp in seconds.

Carmy swears he’s gonna knock out. He’s trying about as hard as he did in school when he knew he should be paying attention to whatever math lesson but couldn’t keep his eyes open. And when your words reach his ears, he thinks you’ve just read his mind. Sensed the sleep pricking at his eyelids. 

“You do have really nice hair, Carmy. Anyone else in your family have curls?”

You watch the way his brows knit together. “I think my mom? You’d never know it though. She’s straightened it every day since I was a teenager, like even when we weren’t leaving the house.”

You focus on your final rinse of his hair, allowing him to continue. “When I was a kid though, if she showered before bed and I needed her, her hair would be all wet and curly. That’s the only time I saw it like that.”

Carmy sits up when you wrap a thin towel around his head, holding it secure as he follows you back to your station. 

“Leigh, the woman leaving when you came in? She has lots of clients like that. A lot of people weren’t taught how to take care of their curly hair.”

“Is that a hint?” Carmen quips. It makes you snort. 

“Just a gentle one.”

Carmy watches while you cut his hair. Every once in a while your tongue will poke out, or you’ll wiggle your hips to a song on the radio. When you’re almost finished, what Carmen thinks is a Madonna song comes on. 

You start humming, and Carmy knows he’s done for. Richie would call him whipped. He probably will tomorrow morning, just by reading Carm’s face. 

“Out of the sky, I close my eyes…heaven help me.”

Carmy lets out a little laugh because you’re doing this little dance as you sift through his curls. You hear it, and it only encourages you more. 

“Big Madonna fan?” he asks, his hand rubbing over his mouth to hide the boyish grin there. The tattoo on his hand catches your eye. 

“She’s good for the soul.”

You crouch in front of him, rummaging through a cabinet for he doesn’t know what. “Your tattoos are pretty, by the way,” you say. It takes him by surprise. 

“Oh. Thanks.”

You emerge with two bottles. “Do people not usually compliment them?” You spray his hair down with cool water, getting it to the stage of damp you need for the products to work. 

Carmy laughs lowly. Maybe with a little hint of embarrassment. “Nah, they usually ask me what the hell they are or if I was drunk when I got ‘em.”

“Were you?”

He meets your playful gaze. “Only for a few.” Your smile is downright gleeful. 

“M’kay, Carm. Let me give you the rundown.” He straightens and you get a glimpse of the chef he left at The Bear to visit you today. “So this is a leave-in conditioner. After you shower, you put just a little of this in your hands—like this—and kinda run it through your hair all over. Just so it’s in there well.”

You demonstrate, and for the first time, Carmy finally understands how people can look at him and question his ability to cook so seamlessly. That’s the way you do hair. Like it’s as easy as breathing for you. 

“And this is a gel. It’s super lightweight, so it won’t feel gross or anything, and it’s not expensive either. You wanna use a little more of this, but not by much. You can do the same sort of thing, because your hair takes shape really easily since it’s not damaged any. And once that’s distributed, I want you to scrunch it some, just to get any excess product, but also to help any curls that need encouragement.”

You bite your lip because Carmy is nodding along, giving you his complete attention and it’s fucking adorable. 

“And if there’s any curls by your face or anything, you can use your fingers to define them so they look how you want. You think you can do all that?”

Carmy laughs. “Not a chance.” Then you’re both laughing, and it feels so comfortable anyone would think you’d known each other for years. 

“It takes practice. I’m gonna give you these to take home and use.” Your hand disappears in your back pocket for just a moment. “But if you want to put your number in my phone, I can always send you instructions if you need help…”

Carmy pauses. Freezes, even. You look at him nervously, afraid that maybe your ability to read the room has evaporated. Luckily, he proves you wrong. 

“Wow. That was smooth.”

You exhale and laugh into the back of your hand. “I’m never that smooth, I don’t know how I managed that,” you chuckle. Carmy’s fingers fly over your keyboard. 

“Thank you for today, really. I usually avoid the hairdresser at all costs.”

“Sugar did tell me that,” you grin. 

“M-maybe I could make you dinner or something, for putting up with me…?”

Your face warms. “I’d like that, yeah.”

Carmy blinks. His phone goes off where you’ve shot him a text with just your name and a smiley face. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

He rubs his hands together. “Okay, cool. Alright, yeah. What do you like?”

“I wouldn’t say no to pasta. Pasta is good in all forms.”

————

“You can tell me if you hate it. I won’t be offended.”

“I think you might have a nervous breakdown though, and you’re too pretty for that.”

Carmy blushes, shaking his head at you. 

“What?” you laugh. “It’s true.” Your voice has a sing-song lilt to it. Over the past few weeks you’ve gotten to know Carmy a bit better. He’s been busy though, so it’s taken longer than expected to have dinner together. 

He made up for it by providing you with pasta and cheesecake for dessert. He’s wearing this thick sweater, your eyes locking on his forearms where he’s rolled up the sleeves. 

Sugar was so excited when you texted her after his hair appointment. 

Natalie B: How’d it go? Was he a total pain in the ass?

You: it went well! got him all sorted out. he offered me dinner as a thank you (after he paid, of course). would that weird you out??

Natalie B: OMG NO!! He’s got such a giant stick up his ass, maybe your charm pulled it out! Go have fun. Leigh was telling me you hadn’t been on a date in forever last time I was in anyhow.

You: brb blocking both of you shitheads ♥️

You hadn’t expected a haircut to lead to any of this, but sitting here, in Carmy’s sparsely furnished apartment, looking at the soft smile on his face and the nervous way he’s fussing with his fingers as you eat the dinner he made you, you’re grateful.

Not that you’ll tell Natalie that. Or Leigh. They don’t need that ego boost. 

You wipe your mouth on a napkin and look up to see that Carmy is gazing at you expectantly. You laugh, his eye contact making you a little nervous. 

“It’s good, Carm. Really good. You can eat.”

He swipes his hand down his face, but when it comes down to grab his fork, he lets you see his smile. “I’m glad you like it. Not too much parsley or anything? I didn’t add lemon because Sugar mentioned you saying you didn’t like pasta with too much lemon juice in it.”

Your mouth drops open. That’s such a small, easy to forget thing. Maybe you will have to give Nat a hug. 

You reach out to touch his hand. Tentatively, just in case it’s too far. “That’s so sweet, Carmy. It’s perfect, really. And honestly the lemon thing is from one very overpowering pasta experience. Maybe whatever you make me will be better.”

Carmen takes a big bite of pasta and a swig of beer so he has time to collect himself. “Maybe we can fix your lemon-related trauma.”

“As long as there’s a backup snack in case the lemon PTSD can’t be fixed.”

You both burst into a fit of giggles. The rest of dinner goes by, filled with conversation about everything and nothing—Carmy’s lack of knowledge about current television, your love of reading and need for someone to share the plots with. 

Carmen is making you a plate to take home with you when he’s finally psyched himself up to ask his question. He says your name and you peer at him from your spot against the counter. 

“I-uh…I’ve been trying to do my hair the way you taught me, but I can’t get it right. I was wonderin’ if you’d show me? Maybe? You don’t have to—”

“Of course I can. All you had to do was ask.” You push off the counter and beam at him. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

You’re lucky you already learned the way to his bathroom so that your streak of confidence would continue working so well. And when you squeeze out some of the hair gel into Carmy’s hands, you know he just needed an excuse. He’s got it down pat. 

He runs his hands through his hair, scrunching clumps together every now and then, finger-curling the pieces up front and by his ears. Now you’re just waiting to see what he really wanted to say. 

You cross your arms, attempting to look serious, but you can’t hold back the grin spreading across your face. 

Carmen looks over at you, drying his hands now that they’re free of product. He’s never been great at reading people, but that look in your eye tells him he’s a shit actor. 

“So, that didn’t fool you, huh?”

You giggle. “Not at all, Berzatto. You couldn’t even fake how well you’ve learned to do your hair.”

Carmy takes a step closer to you, rubbing his nose self-consciously. “I’m very bad at saying what I’m thinking. Or saying what I want.”

“I can see that.”

He squints at you, his lips ticking up just slightly. 

“So what is it you want but are too scared to say?” you start. “Do we need to play hangman?” 

That would normally get a laugh out of him, but he’s too on edge. Inhale. Exhale. Oh, just fucking say it, Carm. 

“I wanna kiss you.”

Your ears burn. You release your bottom lip from where it was pinned between your teeth. “I was hoping you’d say that. Please do.”

You push up on your tiptoes, suddenly bursting with excitement and hoping that’ll convey to Carmen that he doesn’t need to be nervous because you want this just as bad. 

It works. 

You put your hands on Carmy’s collarbones the second his fingers slip into your hair. Your nervous system lights on fire, thoughts of how much surface area his palms cover racing through your mind. He kisses you all shy and hesitant at first, like he’s nervous he won’t do what you’re hoping. 

His lips are warm, and you can feel the spots where he’s chewed them raw. You can’t help but think that kissing him might be a good way to break that habit. His nose presses into your cheek, tickling you and making you giggle.

Carmen pulls away, smiling at you. “What’s so funny?”

“Your nose was tickilin’ my cheek.”

“Oh? Like this?” He starts dragging his nose across your face and then down to your neck when he feels you start to laugh harder. He thinks he’s finally cracked the code. It seems like pasta and nose tickles are the proper way into your heart. 

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

rb banner from @steph-speaks

[innerempire]

Peter starts calling Tony “daddy” as a goof. He means nothing by it (at first) because as Tony gets older, his concern towards the boy doubles (triples?). Checks in on Peter regularly during his first year in college and there’s this one time where Peter thinks he must have sounded so painfully homesick that Tony makes the trip down.

It’s sweet, even if Tony spends half the time bitching about the boy’s living conditions (really, it’s not that bad, Tony. You’re just bougie as hell). A week later, he comes back to his dorm to a couple of packages. There’s a bunch of fancy-sounding shit Peter can’t pronounce even if he wants to. Like, why the hell would he need a shaver that costs $500???? Or a complete set of toiletries that costs more than his Molecular Biophysics textbook? Or bedsheets that are so ridiculously soft and cool to the touch that it makes waking up for his 8am classes somewhat impossible?

There’s also a box that’s basically just snacks. Lots of it. Because Peter had complained about how the vending machine was always spoilt and the options meager.

So yeah, he thinks Tony’s got quite the soft spot for him even if he hides it behind his “yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Pete”.

He doesn’t think much of it when he sends the text: lol, a bit overboard, but thank you daddy 😉

Again, Peter had meant it as a goof because he knows Tony can get a little dramatic about his age.

Tony: What are they teaching you in college

Peter: What? I’m just expressing my thanks to an older man whom has posed to be quite the paternal figure in my life.

Peter: But yeah, seriously, thank you. The snacks are godsent. So is the new puffer jacket. But like, winter break isn’t for a couple of months yet?? And I don’t really need like, new pillows, but they’re really, really nice.

Tony: Daddy aims to please.

Peter laughs at the message, glad that the older male was playing along at least. He keeps it up for the next couple of months, Tony doesn’t tell him to stop.

Tony: What do you think about cornice ceiling designs?

Peter: what?? what’s a cornice

Tony: you know what, it’s probably a no for you.

Peter: okay. just googled it. why are you looking at ceiling designs?

Peter: are you renovating stark tower? again?

Peter: it’s rude not to reply because I can see that you’re online.

Tony: daddy’s in a meeting, baby. hush and I’ll text you later.

And Peter is…

floored.

Because baby? BABY? Was Tony confusing him for someone else? He rereads the message again, ignoring the tiny spark of heat at the endearment. He wonders if this is Tony’s way of fucking with him after all these months. He wouldn’t be surprised actually.

Peter: ok, no to the cornice btw.

He comes home for winter break and maybe he has missed Tony more than usual. It feels like they’re closer than usual, and if the rest of the Avengers notice that they’re chummier than usual, or how Tony is always in a visibly better mood whenever the boy’s around, no one’s saying anything (yet).

It’s chaotic when the team gets together and Peter’s trying to excitedly talk over Tony about something, cutting the older male off. Tony just clamps a hand over Peter’s mouth, and chides him playfully,

“Okay, baby, don’t interrupt when the adults are talking. Daddy taught you better than that.”

Peter’s words comes out muffled as he protests, not realizing that Steve and Scott are straight up gawking at them. Natasha doesn’t even seem fazed, holding her right palm up towards Clint and mouthing, “pay up, loser.”

Bucky basically goes, “Oh shit, so it’s like that, huh?”

“Well, considering the age gap and how they’ve always interacted, is it really that surprising?” Bruce muses out loud.

Peter peels Tony’s fingers away from his mouth, “Guys, what, no - we’re not-“ He glances at Tony for some help.

“Aw, cute. He’s looking at his daddy for help.” Natasha teases.

“So we’ve upgraded from “kid” to “baby”, huh?”

[gamblersdoll]

spit, wlw, scissoring, dildos, slapping, hair pulling, multi hcs, blindfolds, smoking weed.

a/n: i am seeing so many clips of s2 of arcane and all i wanna do is beat my meat and cry. HELP.

𝒱𝐼 (𝒱𝒾𝑜𝓁𝑒𝓉)

vi was a switch, at times becoming so needy when it was ovulation week and her clit throbbed from basically every and anything you did— (smells, taste from your lip gloss, how you did your hair), and she became more loose when it came down to the t.

but with vi? she could be impatient, the leaning dominance from her spilling from her actions and kissing your lips like she would die soon. moreover, her knee would always end up between your thighs. “cmon, baby,” she always whispered when she wasnt getting what she wanted. she cupped your jaw, essentially forcing your tongue out to lick a flat line up yours and to feel your folds— that were more than drenched, pulsate when she moved your hips back nd forward. “can feel her talkin to me..”

“vivi..” you moaned, surprised by how she knew where your specific body parts were at. you feel the back of her blind fold, to see if possibly it cane loose— yet, it was still tight. “cheater.” you chuckle, she does too. “want to taste you.. is that okay?”

“sounds good.. wanted you to for so long.”

once she was on her back, it was all over when your lips met her clit. she jumped a little bit, not having anyone other than caitlyn and her prison wife touch her.. it felt so surreal all over again, and to have her pierced nipples be tugged softly and played at.

she feels everything, especially with the christina that she pierced herself.

but— she feels it all, how many taste buds you had, how many nerves you know you could feel. “like that, vi?” you asked so softly for her, looking up to see her blindfolded head nod so eagerly. that was until the needy shit pressed your head down to force your tongue in her pulsing hole. “mmff!”

“savor it all— please, don’t go.” she muttered, her hips thrusting up to your mouth by accident. her hands move for her, softly slapping your cheek to egg you on. “sorry..”

“shh, shh.. its okay, mama.”

𝒥𝐼𝒩𝒳

jinx was almost like you, being so far gone when it came to your sessions and how heated the both of you get. she sees you as some big mistress that always called shots.

when in reality, you were a bottom that loved being pleased and to be used.

so all she knew to do was get a double ended dildo, to please herself and to please you. it feels even better doing it with someone who was eager for her, for you. because when you moved simultaneously, rhythmically, in sync— your clits bumped together. and when you pulled away? you could feel each others slick separate in despair.

“hnng..!” she squealed in her throat, a hand covering her mouth and she squeezes a breast of yours. “you— you look so pretty, sweetie.” she mumbled, a red hue across her face from the heat, and from the fact shes got a dildo inside both herself and you. she moans softly, tweaking at your nipple and her own.

“jinx..” you mewled, feeling your legs spread open moreover to have jinx get deeper— to get closer to you. and once she does— her slender body leans up to yours and her plump, yet slightly chapped lips press against your fuller and darker lips. “feels so much better with you this close.”

she nods eager, her pretty pinkish purple irises that look like does eyes in this moment staring at you. “your.. your not gonna deny me a—“ you try to ask, but she rolls her hips faster at a desperate pace. “jin—xx!” you say in surprise, eyes becoming heavy and lidded by time when you feel her tongue lick up your throat.

“want this forever, yknow?” she asks, sucking on your neck and holding your hands.

𝒮𝐸𝒱𝐼𝒦𝒜

sevika was a bitch when it came to sex.

shes a brute, never faltering her ego when it had you on your knees and having her look down at you. she beckons you over with two fingers, “crawl,” she reminds you to do. you slowly press one knee before the other, becoming in between her thighs and she tilts your head up. “open,” she commands, slightly pulling at your hair.

“spat!” she spits in your mouth, keeping her grip on your hair as she pulled her jeans off. she was also a weird one, not really wearing drawls when it came to jeans specifically. she steps out of them, pressing your mouth to her brown clit. “thats my girl,” she mumbled, smacking her right hand against your cheek.

“ ‘vika..” you moan with her clit in your mouth, tongue dancing around it for her to pull her lip back by her teeth. “feel good, baby?”

“my favorite girl, being so good.” she praises, sitting down and spreading her legs in a man spread. “hop back to it, if you desperately want to come.” she reminds you, you getting back between her thighs and suckling at her folds. “suck harder, you know how to do this.”

you did, but she keeps slapping your face— and landing blows on your ass. “thats better, behave.” she muses, leaning forward slightly and slipping her ungloved fingers inside your aching walls to your smaller body. “vikaaas..” you moaned, her body getting goosebumps from the vibration. “want you so bad, mama.”

she takes a pull from the joint, drawing a long hit. she keeps the smoke in her mouth, the taste becoming slightly bitter— pulling your head up by your hair with her robo arm to sigh smoke into your mouth. “vika! you know i get more sensitive when im high out’ta my mind!”

“quit yer whinin’, you love that nasty shit you get when youre high.”

[avocado-writing]

Kinktober #17

17. Squirting // Dom - Sub // Period Sex (Logan Howlett x Reader x Wade Wilson)

“Are you sure? It’s gonna get messy.”

“You say that like it’s gonna be a problem. Pookie, we deal with blood on a near-daily basis, I would say it’s the bodily fluid I wash out of my clothes the second-most.”

You roll your eyes at him but can’t help the little moan which slips out of you when Logan’s mouth kisses along your neck, hot and heavy.

“Yeah, well, murdering isn’t the same…” you mutter, feeling yourself begin to relax under their touch. Wade bites at the lobe of your ear, his shoulder nudging Logan’s for room over your body. You like it when they both crowd you. You like it when Wade makes you melt with his blabbering, and Logan can turn you to jelly without saying a goddamn word.

“We’re two grown men. Your pussy during shark week is hardly the worst thing we’ve seen, baby…” he continues, airily. You manage to wrestle away from Wade just long enough to make eye contact with Logan, hazel eyes blasted black with arousal. He shrugs.

“He’s not wrong. Blood doesn’t bother me.”

“Exactly! So lay back and let’s surf the crimson wave together.”

Wade cups your cunt as he says this and you have a visceral reaction, bucking into his hand. With a groan you lay back on the bed and give in.

“Fine…” you sigh, pretending it’s some great effort but really, pretty thrilled that both of your partners want to take care of you. An orgasm really helps with the cramps and their warm, strong bodies are always preferable to grabbing your wand from your bedside table.

Your belt is undone and jeans roughly tugged down your legs, underwear with them. Wade wastes no time in pulling your legs apart so he can look between them and you kick him playfully.

“You’re not buying a used car, Wade, you’re about to fuck me. You don’t have to inspect it…”

“Pookie, I just want my girl to know I appreciate her no matter how caked in blood she is,” he says, patting your mound like it’s a faithful dog. Just as you go to kick him again Logan sinks two fingers in you up to the knuckle, dragging a moan out of you instead. Your walls are tender and the intrusion is strange but not unwelcome. In fact when Logan begins to make a beckoning motion inside of you, all you can do is gasp and fist the bedsheets.

“There we go, baby. You just relax. Your boys have got you…” Wade hums, his hand joining Logan’s so he can begin to work at your clit. All you can do is watch as they move in harmony - god they are always at each other’s throats, but together they’re the perfect team to take you apart piece by piece. Wade presses narrow circles into you, playing on that spot which makes you sing, and Logan’s arm begins to work more rapidly. You can even see the veins and muscles flex under his skin as he doubles his effort to bring you to a climax. Their hands slowly get soaked in red, the noise they create a lewd symphony of arousal and blood.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, I’m gonna–”

“Let go,” says Logan, in a way which doesn’t bear arguing with. Your orgasm crescendos over you and you soak both of them as you finish for the first time that day. Wade pulls away first leaving Logan the room to extract his hand which is dripping with a crimson sheen. He seems totally unbothered about the blood - in fact, they both seem pretty damn smug.

You open your mouth the same time as Wade does, except instead of speaking he brings the fingers that were just inside you into his mouth and sucks them, his mouth taking Logan’s digits like your cunt just did.

“Holy shit…” Logan says, surprised but not pushing Wade off of him either. When Wade removes himself with a pop his lips are tinged red.

“Told you blood didn’t bother us,” he sighs, dreamily, then moves in to kiss you. You meet him with enthusiasm.

[kindestofkings]

what came first, the chicken or the dickhead?

[smau]

f1driver!reader x lando norris (eventually, friends to lovers ofc)

authors note: this is so dramatic and for what! sorry to pierre for making you the villian, and lets pretend ferrari isnt as shit as it currently is! lol enjoy, would love to know what you think <333

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo and others

yourusername tough day in the office today, mexico '22 is just not to be I guess. As always a learning curve and we will grow from todays DNF 😞

See you soon Brazil !!

view all 500 comments

ynfan1 we are still so proud of you! keep pushing 👍

f1fan this is literally what you get for trying to compete in a MALE sport

f1fan2 fr she's bringing down pierre and the team f1fan3 too emotional for the big leagues ynfan2 stfu you do realise your favourite MALE drivers dnf all the time aswell

alphataurif1 we come back stronger!!

yourusername 👊👊

alex_albon lily is wondering would going for ice cream cheer you up?

yourusername I love her, yes please 🥹 landonorris I'm coming yourusername nuh huh its for us pointless drivers! landonorris come on it was only 2..

f1fan4 lando norizz trying to make it a double date lollll

f1fan5 bro chill these two have been friends since literal birth

alphataurif1

liked by yourusername and others

alphataurif1 the difference 2 weeks can make! our girl yourusername is starting pole position on sunday here in brazil 🔥

view all 150 comments

yourusername woohoo roll on sunday!!

ynfan1 go bestie go !

ynfan2 AT moving up💪

yourusername

liked by landonorris and others 

yourusername great work achieved today, the car and track felt good. hopefully we can convert this position into some points to finish of the season on a high, all we need is team work on the track (and for max's alarm to not go off so he misses the race 😀)

view all 290 comments 

maxverstappen1 why the personal attack

yourusername WHY do you have to win every week, surely you are bored by it by now ... charles_leclerc I agree, maybe take a week off? f1fan2 hahah these two i'm obsessed

landonorris please do well but not TOO well, just stay behind me 👍

yourusername and look at your ass all race? hard pass

ynfan1 that mention of teamwork is a lil suss...

ynfan2 not really?? it is a team sport ynfan1 yeah but do you not find it weird how unfriendly yourusername and pierregasly are, despite them being on the same team? f1fan tbf I have always noticed how forced their videos are together. and they dont even follow each other

yourusername

liked by landonorris and others 

yourusername lollll ruining my career one interview at a time, but at least we hit the clubs looking fire 🔥

p.s. I stand by what I've said I only have apologies for two people 1) my pr manager (who I dont pay enough for this) and 2) charles for linking your name to this hot mess!

view all 660 comments

landonorris it's so great being the unproblematic one 😎

yourusername does mcclaren need another golden driver from bristol??? I fear im out of a seat soon .. ynfan1 this is so sad you are way to talented of a driver to be out of a suit

charles_leclerc No worries 😅 Just make sure you buy me dinner next time before dragging me into the chaos. 🍽️🤷‍♂️

yourusername you got it prince of monaco! f1fan2 PLEASE PLEASE DATE ynfan2 ewww no her and lando are so so in love they're just too blind and stupid

danielricciardo absolute legend behaviour mate!!

yourusername learning from the best danny ric 😎

alphataurif1 and yourusername

Liked by landonorris and others

alphataurif1 From grid battles to glory laps! 🏁✨ Our unstoppable driver just clinched her FIRST WIN at the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix! 🏆 Watch out, world – she's rewriting the history books and leaving her mark on the track. 🚀🌟

#AlphaQueen #AbuDhabiWinner

view all 444 comments

danielricciardo What a race! Big congrats, yourusername. That first win feeling is something else! Enjoy every moment!

alex_albon: absolutely smashed it! huge congratulations on your first win!

carlossainz55 felicidades!!

susie_wolff: breaking barriers and making history! huge congratulations on your first win!

yourusername AHHHHH I CANT BELIEVE IT ! I LOVE YOU TEAM !!

ynfan1 lando where is your congrats you are slippinnn!!

landonorris

Liked by yourusername and others

landonorris I've never been this happy to lose, but it's pretty cool seeing your best friend win in her rookie year. EVEN if she beaten me to it 😞

view all 150 comments

yourusername LANDOOOO you are a the bestest friend ever

yourusername would not have gotten here with out you, my partner in crime <3

ynfan1 best friend?? y'all are still so blind

f1fan everytime you call her your best friend you reaffirm the lando NORIZZ name

danielricciardo facts alex_albon facts carlossainz55 facts charles_leclerc facts yukitsunoda0511 facts maxverstappen1 facts landonorris CAN YOU SHUT UP

scuderiaferrari

liked by landonorris and others

scuderiaferrari oh we thought we should just let you know our driver line up for 2023 👀 say hello to the dynamic addition to the Ferrari family, the wonderfully feisty yourusername! get ready for a season full of speed, passion, and fierce competition. Welcome to Maranello! 🇮🇹

view all 700 comments 

ynfan1 HOLY F*CK

susie_wolff wow congrats yourusername!! wishing you all the best !

yourusername thank you so much susie! your advice the last few weeks has help me so much ! ynfan1 I love when girls support girls 💓

yourusername can't wait to get started! forza ferrari ❤️❤️

charles_leclerc this is going to be incredible! congrats !!

yourusername thank you charles <33 be prepared to be sick of me lol ynfan1 so happy shes got a teammate who acc is a decent guy

ynfan2 LOLLLL I bet pierre is sick

landonorris slayed 💅

yourusername 😂😂 f1fan watch out mr norizz her new teammate is mr steal-your-girl

[angstywaifu]

Courted - Bodhi Durran

Request/Prompt - reader’s dragon is getting “courted” by an unbonded dragon and is so confused bc greens don’t do emotions. But the two dragons get together and Bodhi helps them bc he has secondhand knowledge from hearing about when Sygael first bonded with Xaden @fairchild06 Warnings: smoking (churam) Masterlist | Support Me

I thought my first few months in the Quadrant were hard. That seemed like nothing compared to this. The last few weeks had been…. interesting. Every day I was being slammed with emotions that weren’t my own thanks to Vorlyn. And there was only so much shielding could do when she didn’t seem aware of how strong the feelings she was sending down the bond were.

She had gotten better, but I was praying these initial stages of mating and bonding would be over soon. Though at least she kept the pummelling of her feelings till the evening when I could hide in my room in case she slammed them into me without warning. Which was a lot. But it seemed I was not so lucky today. All flying drills had been grounded thanks to a massive snow storm that had decided to hit us. Not even the third years were going out in this.

I trail behind my squad as we make our way to Carr’s classroom, my least favourite room in the Quadrant. A wave of emotions hits me out of nowhere, nearly sending me tumbling to the ground as I double over and brace myself on my knees, breathing in and out deeply to try ride out the wave.

”Shit, are you ok?” Bodhi asks, rushing over as he kneels in front of me.

I feel his signet wash over me, clearly thinking I’m burning out or something was going wrong.

”Just. My. Dragon.” I grunt out as her emotions continue to slam into me.

This was way more intense than normal. I’m thankful she’s getting some action from what I can tell, but did she have to pick fucking now to do this? I open my eyes a little as I slam up my shield, taking a slight edge off the onslaught. Something similar to realisation crosses Bodhi’s eyes, and I swear he’s trying to hold back a laugh as he looks up at me.

”Tell Carr we’re not going to be there.” Bodhi calls over his shoulder to our squad who must have stopped as well.

Without looking back Bodhi stands up, grabbing one of my arms, putting it around him as he leans me against him, taking my weight as he leads us back down the corridor and towards what I think are the dormitories. As soon as we’re out of the busy corridor, Bodhi crouches down before scooping me up into my arms. I go to protest, but my words die on my tongue as another wave hits me.

”Just focus on keeping that shield up alright?” He says to me as he picks up his pace.

I squeeze my eyes shut, nodding back as I focus on my shield. Without having to think about walking or functioning I’m able to take more of the edge off. Not completely, but enough that I’m able to think a little clearer. Or so I think. With my shield taking off the brunt of the onslaught, I can focus more on the feelings that flow down the bond.

Oh god. My body feels like it’s on fire. And not in a painful way. But with desire.

”Really? You had to do this now?” I yell down the bond, but I’m met with nothing in return.

It’s then I note Bodhi’s fingers pressing into the exposed skin on my waist where my jacket and shirt has ridden up when he picked me up. My body wants more. I have to literally force all my attention into my shield to stop myself from grasping his jacket and pulling him down to me.

”Can you hurry up and finish?!?” I yell down the bond again, yet again being met with silence.

Fantastic.

”Right on time.” Bodhi calls out to someone.

I open my eyes to see Xaden standing outside my door, holding a small tin in his hands. His gaze locks with mine, a prickling sensation washing over me. It’s like he knows exactly what’s going on in my damn head as he masks a smirk that just manages to tug at the corners of his lips. He turns and opens my door, pushing it open so Bodhi can walk us in. He walks me over to me bed, placing me on the edge before sitting next to me. One hand coming to rest on my thigh, while the other rubs small circles on my back which are probably meant to help keep me grounded and relaxed. But with the emotions flowing through the bond, it does the complete opposite.

Xaden pulls the chair from my desk over, sitting in front of me with the small tin still clutched in his hands. “Are your shields up?” He asks as he opens the tin.

I nod. “Yes, but it’s not doing much.” I tell him in a strained voice.

He nods and gives me a tight lipped smile. “The first few times it won’t. But eventually you’ll get stronger and it will be easier. And it will help once she stops sending it all down the bond.

”Easier?” I ask, confused as to what he’s talking about.

”You’re not the only one with a mated dragon.” He tells me as he takes the lid off the tin. Inside is something that we are definitely not allowed in the Quadrant. Churam. “It will take the edge off more than shielding. Especially till she learns to put the shields up on her end. But even then she won’t always remember.”

He quickly pulls out a match, lighting one of the rolls and handing it to me. Even just the smell is enough to have me feeling the affects. I reach out more hastily than I mean to, practically ripping it from Xaden’s out stretched hand, taking a deep puff from the roll. I sigh in relief, feeling more of the edge come off. It’s still there, the need and desire, but it’s not as overwhelming as it was a few moments ago.

”Thank you.” I say to him as I relax back into Bodhi’s touch, resting against his shoulder.

”You’re welcome. Can’t have you ending up in someone’s bed you might regret.” He teases before his gaze flicks to Bodhi. “Or not regret.”

I feel Bodhi stiffen next to me as Xaden stands up and puts my chair back before walking out of the room, leaving Bodhi and I alone.

”You feeling better.” Bodhi asks after a few moments.

I turn to look at him, noting the slight blush in his cheeks, and I know they’re from Xaden’s words.

I smile up at him and nod. “I am. How did you know what was happening?”

”I’ve spent enough nights hanging around Xaden to know the signs when Sgaeyl would slam her feelings down the bond because she forgot to put a shield up.” He admits with a soft smile.

”Maybe I should have said something sooner. This has been going on for weeks now. Well the lead up to it at least.” I admit, taking another drag of the Churam which is now helping a lot. Though there is still some want for Bodhi, always has been deep down.

”Well you did better than Xaden from what I heard from Garrick.” Bodhi says with a cheeky smile.

“Do I want to know what happened?”

”Nothing actually happened, just a few close calls. Think Garrick was nearly on the receiving end as they were sparring one time when it happened,” Bodhi admits with a chuckle.

I choke on the churam as I laugh at Bodhi’s words, Bodhi patting my back to try relieve the coughing fit. “Well I will consider myself lucky so far then. Might have to be careful of the company I keep when it happens.”

I look up at Bodhi, watching as his cheeks flush at my words, averting his gaze to the door. “I should get back to class.” He says, going to stand.

I reach out, grasping his hand in mine before I can think. “Stay. Please.”

For a few moments Bodhi looks shocked at my words, probably worried I’m being influenced by my dragon and her emotions. But as I smile and squeeze his hand in what I hope is a reassuring way, he gives in easily, smiling at me before sitting back on the bed, pulling me into him as he wraps an arm around me.

[artdcnaldson]

Cat i may be going crazy but f2f by sza is so reader who dated Art and they broke up so she fucks Patrick to feel closer to him are you seeing my vision here

🪞

I’m literally seeing the vision so clearly…. You know it’s serious when I add a gif or a picture…. So….

Sighhhh… thinking….. maybe you were just an affair for Art. Kind of prodigy AU in the sense that you’re a tennis player who clearly idolizes him and starts an affair with him, but you get a little too obvious in interviews. You talk about how great and wonderful Art is and how he’s improved your game so much and you’re so grateful for his mentorship and all this gushy shit. It would be sweet if you could shut your mouth. It would be sweet if you weren’t clearly in love with a married man.

Like oh it’s so obvious. You look at him with these wide fuck-me eyes and cling to his side at events… so it’s not a surprise that he has to brush you off. Tashi’s going to figure it out (as if she hasn’t figured it out already), so you need to split so his marriage isn’t ruined. The marriage that he complained to you about every single time you got together and fucked. That marriage that he apparently cares so much about now.

You’re at a 250 in Florida when you meet Patrick. Well, you actively seek him out, really. You swipe left on every man on tinder until you find him. You look at his profile, littered with some bullshit about not wanting anything serious and having a huge dick. Whatever. You swipe. You instantly match.

You know Patrick. Know of Patrick. Not just from his remarkably atrocious reputation, but from Art too. He might have just been using you as his own personal fuck toy, but you were good listener too. You retained all of that angst and longing and hatred for his former doubles partner, you remembered.

Patrick knows you. Knows of you. He knows that pathetic little voice as you coo into a microphone about how lovely Art Donaldson is, how he’s a legend, how you’re his biggest fan and you’re oh, so lucky to experience his skill in person. And he also knows how just last week, when someone brought Art up in an interview, you shut it down fast, you pivoted in this beautiful, media trained way that he had to admire.

He knows why you’re across from him at a low lit bar. It smells like cigarettes and the floor is sticky. Your shoes are too expensive to wear in a place like this, but he’s glad you wore them. They’ll look really nice dangling over his shoulders. He doesn’t feel bad for jumping to that conclusion, not when your conversation had been so blunt.

Patrick: Do you want drinks first or do you want to come straight to my hotel?

You: Drinks. We’ll see if we make it to your hotel.

“Your boyfriend broke up with you, huh?” He says as you sit at the bar beside him, looking far too pretty with your manicured nails picking at a bar that’s been carved into by pocketknives and broken glass.

You make a face, annoyed, hurt— big puppy dog eyes that make Patrick think that make he should fuck you on all fours so he doesn’t have to see that pining expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You order a cosmo, and you talk about tennis… for a little while.

But it’s not long before his hands start wandering, and when he touches you, you think about the videos of them celebrating big tournament wins as teenagers— jumping and grabbing at each other, so close they could have kissed. It’s like Art’s touching you when he touches you, in a way.

And you don’t make it back to his hotel. You barely make it to the car before he’s pinning you to the scratched paint job, slipping his big, warm hand between your thighs so he can cup your cunt. You melt into it, relish in it. His hands are calloused, a bit like Art’s were, only Art’s were softer, better cared for.

Maybe Art will find out. He wouldn’t Like it. He’d call you a crazy fucking bitch for fucking someone like Patrick, just to get back at him. Well, it’s not revenge if he’ll never know.

It’s just Patrick, with his big hands groping your ass, and his hot mouth on your tits. It’s the feeling of crumbs digging into your skin when he gets you on your back, and you have to throw a half-drunk Gatorade bottle onto the floor to get comfortable. He peels off your panties with his teeth but doesn’t bother to go down on you.

The first time you fucked Art had been in the big backseat of his Jeep. God, he’d even planned for it, because he had a blanket for you to lay on top of. Parked in the corner of the tennis club where you were practicing. Cramped into the backseat, and he still made a point to eat your pussy until you were slick with spit and cum and begging for him to fuck you properly.

You do end up with your legs on Patrick’s shoulders, with your heels dangling precariously from your toes as he rocks your body (and the axels of his car) with rough, punishing thrusts. Folded in half in the backseat, he fucks you like he knows that you’re using him. Might as well return the favor. There’s no kissing, no sweet nothings whispered. He doesn’t even rub your clit to get you there. That’s your job.

He does take the time to be a grade-A asshole, though. “You’re so tight,” mumbled into your ear. “Can’t believe Art fucked you. You feel like a virgin.”

And, well, if the mention of Art gets you off, if you cum with nothing more that the feel of Patrick’s cock bullying into your cunt and the whisper of your ex-lovers name in your ear. Well, that’s not leaving the dirty backseat of Patrick’s CR-V.

[deterioratingpisces]

Daniel Molloy, marriage councillor from hell.

He’s got a 98% divorce rate. The other 2%? They’re probably staying together out of sheer spite—or fear of returning to his office.

Instead of fixing his clients’ problems, he digs up some more. Forget “working on communication.” He’s a master at uncovering your worst secrets and weaponizing them like a teenager in a text fight.

He gets a little spark in his eyes whenever he finds something new to grill his clients about. It’s the closest he gets to joy: that glint that says, “Oh, you thought that wasn’t going to come up?”

Don’t worry about him playing favourites; he’s being a little shit to everyone equally. Even the mildest disagreements become battlefields under his gaze. You’ll go in debating how to load the dishwasher and come out wondering if love is even real.

Also, don’t be gleeful when your partner is on the receiving end of his judgement. Your turn is just around the corner. The moment he catches a whiff of smugness, he redirects like a hawk zeroing in on fresh prey.

Passive-aggressiveness just gasses him up more. Every eye roll, every groan, every passive-aggressive “are we done here?”—it’s all fuel for the fire. You think you’re breaking him down, but really, you’re just feeding the beast.

The only way of coming out of his therapy still married is through fraternizing against him. But good luck. Before you can say “teamwork,” he’s found the one thing you can’t agree on and driven a wedge so deep, you’ll forget you were ever on the same side.

Probably one of the biggest mistakes you could make is trying to weaponize his own two failed marriages against him. Oh, sweet summer child. You think that’s a trump card? He’ll shrug it off like lint on his blazer and hit you with, “That’s adorable, but let’s talk about why you brought this up.” Cue emotional bloodbath.

Thinking you can charm him by mentioning you’ve read his work and thought it was brilliant? Big mistake. He doesn’t take compliments; he takes ammunition. “Oh, you read my book? Fascinating. Let’s talk about why you felt the need to bring that up. Seeking validation, perhaps?” Now you’re defending yourself for being polite.

He’s written exactly one book, and it’s the kind of thing only masochists or grad students read. Titled “Irreconcilable: Why Most Marriages Were Doomed Before They Began,” it’s a scathing 600-page manifesto on why love is an illusion and compromise is a scam.

He’ll be going off on you for one hour, and the second the time is up he’s his perfectly composed self. Nothing like hearing, “Same time next week? We’re really cracking this open!” after you’ve spent an hour sobbing and accusing your spouse of crimes you didn’t even know you cared about.

He’s immensely motionless and visibly dissatisfied every time a couple does make it out of his counseling still together. No congratulations. No “job well done.” Just a flat, “Wow. Guess miracles do happen.” The closest thing to an endorsement you’ll ever get.

If you somehow survive his sessions intact, you’ll leave with a list of issues you didn’t even know you had. Trust issues? Check. Miscommunication? Check. A sudden, inexplicable need to google “how to file a restraining order”? Double check.

His office décor is clinically neutral—beige walls, minimal art—because the real carnage happens in your emotional landscape. There’s no place for comfort here. Just two chairs, a box of tissues, and the sharp glare of his judgment.

He’s the kind of counselor who will literally pause a heated argument to correct your grammar. “Actually, it’s ‘my partner and I,’ not ‘me and my partner.’ But please, go on about how they never support you.”

He’s got a poker face so strong, even the most unhinged confession barely raises an eyebrow. You could admit to orchestrating a fake kidnapping to test your partner’s loyalty, and he’d just scribble something in his notebook with a bored, “Huh. Interesting.”

Somehow, he remembers everything. That tiny detail you offhandedly mentioned in week one? He’ll bring it back 15 sessions later, weaponized and sharper than your spouse’s passive-aggressive tone during your last fight.

His motto? “Honesty isn’t always the best policy—it’s just the most fun for me.” Because nothing says therapy like watching couples tear each other apart under the guise of “truth.”

Every session is like playing emotional Minesweeper. You think you’re navigating safely until—BOOM—he hits you with a “So when are you planning to tell them about the credit card debt?”

He’s probably got a closet full of tissue boxes because he goes through multiple ones a day. Not that he’s offering comfort, mind you. He’s just emotionally eviscerating people left and right, leaving them to weep into piles of Kleenex while he sits there scribbling in his notebook like “Another one bites the dust.”

On the rare occasion he does favour one client over their partner, he’ll join in with them to gaslight the other. If you thought your gaslighting was bad, wait until he tags in. “Honestly, that’s a perfectly normal thing to do. I don’t know why your partner’s making such a big deal about it.” Next thing you know, you’re doubting your grip on reality.

You know he’s in a good mood when he starts with, ‘So, let’s revisit that thing you were hoping I’d forget.’ His version of ‘good vibes’ is a merciless callback to the worst fight you’ve ever had. Bonus points if it involves a completely trivial topic like a burnt casserole.

He once accidentally helped save/improve a marriage, and he still brings it up as his greatest failure. “It wasn’t my fault. They blindsided me by… actually communicating. Ugh.”

He doesn’t just break you down emotionally; he’ll dismantle your hobbies too. “So you knit to ‘relax’? Interesting. Is that why your partner feels neglected every time you pick up the needles?”

Every now and then, he’ll throw in a “fun” hypothetical just to spice things up. “So, if your spouse did start an affair with their coworker, how do you think you’d react? No, seriously, let’s explore that.” And just like that, he’s set your relationship on fire.

If you’re brave enough to call him out for being biased, he’ll hit you with a “Why do you think you feel that way?” Congratulations, you just fell into his trap. Now you’re the one who needs to “explore your insecurities.”

He’s got a way of twisting even the smallest compliment into a passive-aggressive critique. “So you think they’re a good parent? Interesting that you don’t mention them being a good partner.”

No argument is off-limits to him, no matter how petty. You could be fighting over the remote, and he’ll somehow turn it into a deep dive on your inability to compromise. “Is it really about the TV? Or is it about the control you feel you’re losing in this relationship?”

He has the audacity to send you home with homework. Nothing says fun date night like sitting down to answer questions like, “What’s the worst thing your partner’s ever said to you, and why do you think they meant it?”

He signs off every session with, ‘It’s not my job to fix you. It’s my job to show you what’s broken.’ Thanks, Daniel. Really uplifting. Can’t wait for next week.

He keeps a tally on how many digs it takes for both of his clients to start sobbing. He’s like an emotional sniper, except instead of bullets, it’s a well-placed “So, how did your mother influence your relationship dynamic?”

He also keeps a separate count of how many clients had a full-on mental breakdown that week. At the end of the week, he probably leans back in his chair, reviewing the numbers with a satisfied, “Another record-breaking performance. Good job, me.”

He gets a twisted sense of joy from the whole thing. Every time someone cries, he casually slides the tissue box closer with a little smirk, like “That’s the spirit.”

He claims he doesn’t enjoy making people cry, but the smug look on his face says otherwise. You swear you caught him jotting “two-for-one cry deal” in the corner of his notebook after both you and your partner lost it in the same session.

If you call him out on the tally, he’ll act surprised. “Tally? Oh no, that’s just... uh... my grocery list. Don’t mind that.” Meanwhile, you can see “MENTY B TOTAL: 12” written in huge letters.

He has a "Hall of Fame" in his mind for the fastest emotional breakdowns. “Four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Impressive, really. Most people hold out until the ten-minute mark.”

His biggest letdown of the week is a session where nobody cries. He’ll sigh heavily, jot something in his notebook, and mutter, “Well, we all have off days.”The week his tally hits zero? He might as well shut the whole office down. He’d sit at his desk, staring out the window, whispering, “Have I lost my touch? No... it’s them. They’re just repressing better.”

The reason his Google ratings are still up? It’s either fear—because who wants Daniel Molloy coming after them in a vengeful Yelp tirade—or gratitude, but of the gaslit variety. His clients walk away thinking, “Wow, our marriage was doomed from the start. Thank you, Mr. Molloy, for showing us the truth.”

There’s a rumor that he has a celebratory bell he rings in his private office for every milestone. After every couple that leaves his office divorced. Ding-ding-ding! “Another happy ending.”

Sometimes he drops subtle hints about the bell mid-session. “You know, not every couple makes it through therapy. But that’s okay. There’s… closure in accepting the truth.” And you know he’s thinking about that bell.

If he had his way, the bell would be a centerpiece of his practice. Displayed proudly behind his desk, polished to a shine, with an engraving: “In honor of irreconcilable differences.”

Please feel free to add anything I have missed. 💀

[queenk00k]

cupid's lead arrows // rafe cameron

Requested by anon

Request: Hi girl I love your writing 🫶🏻 Can you write about Rafe, who has been Reader’s best friend forever, but secretly has a crush on her? One day, Reader confesses that she’s dating someone, and Rafe does everything he can to break them up.

Summary: You finally get a boyfriend but something, or someone, seems intent on keeping you apart.

Word count: 1.8k

Includes: This is literally all angst sorry

Note: My first Outer Banks fic in over 4 years lol please be kind! I got a little carried away...this lends itself to a part 2, if anyone likes it.

It’s not always a walk in the park when you’re Rafe Cameron’s best friend.

You’ve been inseparable since the first day of high school when you got paired together for a semester long project. Study sessions in the library (well, you would study, and Rafe would flirt with the cute library monitor) turned into after school hangouts at Tannyhill, which turned into hosting parties and heading to college together.

Did you ever have a crush on your best friend? Well fuck, have you seen him?

Not only is he gorgeous but you got to experience a whole different side of Rafe that not everyone got to see, the sweet side – loyal, caring, and pretty soft behind the scenes.

You spent years pining after Rafe, silently and stoically of course, never wanting to ruin your friendship by letting him know how you felt. You figured it was for the best and besides, you had lived through enough of Rafe’s girlfriends to know you weren’t ever going to be his type.

You’ve seen each other’s highest highs and lowest lows which, unfortunately for you both, Rafe seemed to have more than his fair share of. Much to the disappointment of your parents and the shock of your friends, you stuck by Rafe’s side through his drug addiction and his drinking problems and were there to pick up the pieces after his father died. Rafe, in turn, had your back when you had blow up fights with your mother and comforted you when you had problems with your friends.

Now, two years out of college and with Rafe mostly sober, you didn’t think there was anything you two couldn’t handle, nothing you couldn’t face together, nothing that could ever come between you.

Until you started dating Parker.

Rafe seemed happy for you when you first told him, hugging you and telling you he was proud of you for “finally getting some.” He was nice to Parker (by Rafe’s standards, which really meant not going out of his way to intimidate the guy) when you brought him to the beach and introduced them.

But as the weeks went by, you noticed a subtle shift in Rafe’s behaviour. You kept telling yourself you were being paranoid, that there’s no way Rafe could have an issue with Parker. He told you he was happy for you, right? And unlike the last potential boyfriends, Rafe didn’t try to scare him off.

But something was off.

You noticed Rafe was falling back into old habits that scared you. He was drinking more, often double parked at parties, and either loud and belligerent or sulking on his own in a corner.

And then then the incidents began. At first you just thought it was shit luck, but then it just started to feel like the universe was conspiring against you and Parker.

Turns out Rafe was conspiring against you and Parker.

It started when Parker seemingly ghosted you on one of your Friday night dates, leaving you alone and upset at the wharf before Rafe picked you up. Parker swore he had car issues, both his front tires punctured, and you figured that was a reasonable excuse.

Then the night of the annual bonfire, a harmless game of ‘never have I ever’ turned sour when Rafe and Topper kept coming up with the most oddly specific scenarios. Each of them left Parker putting down his fingers, looking sheepishly over at you as your cheeks turned red from embarrassment before you got up and left the circle, Rafe raising a beer bottle to his lips as he watched you intently. He followed after you that night and you melted into his arms, naïvely assuming your best friend was comforting you without an ulterior motive.

And now the worst of all – Topper had cornered you as you were leaving the driving range to ask if you knew Parker was spending time with his ex, and you finally snapped.

“Where did you hear this, Topper? Who told you?”

And because Topper was, above all, really just spineless, you got the answer out of him straight away.

Rafe. At the scene of the crime, three times in a row. What a fucking coincidence.

So, you decided you’d had enough of this bullshit, of Rafe playing games with your relationship, and you drove over to his house, marched up to his front door and banged on it with your fist until he finally opened up.

“Y/N!” he said, looking genuinely excited to see you. “What are you doing here?”

You took a deep breath, willing yourself not to lose your shit just yet, not to get angry until you actually knew the truth.

“Do you like Parker? Do you want me to be with him?”

Rafe blinked at you, his blue eyes narrowing in confusion.

“What? I don’t-”

“Tell me the truth,” you cut in. “I want to hear you say it.”

Rafe stepped over the threshold and gently closed the door behind him, clearing his throat before he answered.

“No. I don’t, and I want you to break up with him,” he said, folding his arms.

You huffed out a humourless laugh.

“Right, well, that’s not going to happen. Thanks a lot,” you say, willing yourself not to cry as you turn around and walk away from your best friend.

“Y/N, please come back. I have my reasons!” Rafe raises his voice as he calls out to you.

“Why do you care so much? Is this some fake chivalrous ‘if I can’t have you, no one can’ bullshit? Just leave me alone, Rafe.” You say as you clamber down the front steps and start walking to your car.

“Because I love you, alright?!” Rafe shouts after you.

You stop, the righteous anger you were feeling only moments before threatening to dissipate into the humid night air. You close your eyes, inhaling deeply before turning around to face your best friend.

Rafe’s breathing heavily, running his hand over his head as if to erase what he just said.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his ring glinting in the moonlight as he chews on his thumb, looking pleadingly at you, willing you to say something, anything. The silence between you feels heavy as your mind races. He’s said it before of course, but it’s usually in jest, or after you help him with something. This feels different, and you know better than to assume it’s not.

“Rafe,” you say, fighting to keep your voice steady. “What are you doing?” You watch him warily as he takes a hesitant step towards you.

“I love you. I’m serious. More than best friends, more than anything we’ve been in the past. I love you and I…I can’t stand to see you with someone else. I can’t let it happen.”

“You have no right-”

“He’s not a good guy, y/n!” Rafe raises his voice again, making you flinch slightly. You scoff at his words, throwing him an incredulous glare.

“Like you can talk, Rafe. I know you – more than anyone else. You’re not exactly in a position to be telling me who’s good for me or not,” you snap.

Rafe huffs, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Yeah, you got me. I’m not perfect, fine, but I know you and I know you shouldn’t be with Parker. That’s why I-” Rafe stops abruptly, his mouth twisting.

You step closer to him, closing the gap between you. “That’s why you what, Rafe?” Your heart pounds and you’re sure you’re about to have your suspicions confirmed. When Rafe stands there, dumbstruck and silent, you answer for him.

“You’re the one who started that rumour about Parker and his ex, aren’t you?”

Rafe’s silence tells you everything you need to know. You shake your head, not quite believing that your best friend would try and sabotage your relationship like this.

“And the bonfire? That was on purpose, wasn’t it? You got some dirt on Parker and wanted me to know about it.”

Rafe winced. “Well, Topper helped with that one. But seriously, this is all for your own good. I’m trying to protect you!”

You hold your hand up. “Stop. Just stop. How could you do this? Why would you try and break us up like this, just because you’re jealous? Why can’t you just let me be happy? Not to mention, you’ve been hurting me, Rafe! You’re not just hurting Parker; you’re destroying me in the process.”

You’re crying now, feeling betrayed. You had barely noticed but it had started to rain, the droplets mixing with your tears to run mascara down your cheeks. Rafe has the audacity to look concerned and regretful, to move as if to hug you and you shake his arm off before jabbing your index finger into his chest.

“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Rafe. You had your chance! For years! Just because you’ve finally fucking woken up doesn’t mean you get to ruin my happiness. And now this bullshit about Parker’s family? That’s low, even for you,” you spit, the brief warmth you felt when Rafe told you he loved you now completely cold.

Rafe shook his head. “No, no, you don’t get it! That’s all true! They’re shady fucking people and God, that’s coming from a Cameron. You can’t get caught up in their mess,” he pleads.

“You must be out of your goddamn mind if you think I’m going to believe you now! Why should I?” you yell before spinning on your heel and stalking down the driveway to your car, being careful to not slip on the pavement.

“Y/N, wait!” Rafe calls and he catches up to you in two long strides, grabbing your wrist with his large hand. His white button-down shirt was almost transparent now and the rain was running in rivers off his nose as he looked down at you.

“Please,” he begs. “Come inside. Let me explain. I love you, y/n, please,” Rafe looks desperate, and you almost pity him before you snap back to reality and remember why you’re so angry.

“I’m going to my boyfriend’s house,” you snarl, tugging your wrist out of his grip. “And if you follow me Rafe, I swear to God, I will never speak to you again.”

With that, you yank open your car door and put the keys in the ignition with shaking hands.

“FUCK!”

As you pull away, you can hear Rafe yelling your name.

You don’t even look in the rearview mirror as you turn out of his street, tires squealing.

[angelskills]

Can you do Choso reacting to the reader casually referring to him as their husband for the first time?

a/n: hello! thank you sm for requesting :) chosos reaction would be soo cute! I'm not sure if you wanted fluff or smut, so i added both! sorry for posting so late, also NOT PROOF READ!

"He's my husband"...

warnings: riding, teasing, p in v, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, doesn't pull out(birth control), whimpering, penetration, idk what else.

characters: choso, your friends

intro: your friend, Yumi, offers to go on a double date to catch up on your lives.

You and Choso have been engaged for about 3 months now. You guys dated for about 4-5 years until Choso finally proposed to you. You both agreed on moving in together after the proposal. You must admit that agreeing to move in together was the BEST decision ever. You always woke up to him making breakfast for both of you guys, you never went to sleep mad at him, and it was just... perfect.

Choso knew your friends. You always gossiped about them (not shit-talking, just about the drama they have) to him and he listened to every detail VERY well. He knew every single thing about your friends.

Since you guys haven't hung out in a long time, one of your friends, Yumi, wanted to go on a double date. She was all the way in California for about 4 months, meaning you both had a lot of catching up to do.

After trying to convince him, Choso finally agreed to go, you know he can't say no to you.

You guys were finally at the restaurant at a table for four, talking to Choso as you waited for Yumi and her date.

"Y/N!!" Yumi yelled out, running towards you.

You smiled, standing up from your seat to give her a hug. "New man every day, huh?" You whispered in her ears, teasing her. Yumi slightly pinched your arm before sitting down. There's nothing wrong with Yumi, just the fact you see her with different men every week, guess every man she meets is always a red flag.

"I hear you guys are engaged," Yumi speaks, looking at you and Choso.

"Mhm," You say wrapping your arm around Choso's, "He's my husband now."

Choso turned red. So red, that man was BLUSHING. His face went rosy-cheek. This was the first time you actually called him husband. Even though you guys have been dating and are now engaged, he has never heard you call him your husband. This was new to him.

While you, Yumi, and her date were talking and gossiping, all Choso could think about is the fact you called him your husband. Husband. Husband. 'My husband'. Those words rang in his ears. He couldn't get it off of his mind.

After eating, you and Yumi finally decided to go home. It was like, what, 12am now?

On the ride home, Choso didn't seem to talk as much. His face was red, red to the point you thought he had a fever.

"Bae? You okay?" You worry, placing your hand on his head to see his temperature.

Choso gulped, he was so embarrassed to tell you this.

"That's why you weren't talking the whole time?" You laugh, making fun of Choso, "Because I called you my husband?" You were lying on the sofa. Choso sat beside you, letting you place your legs on his lap. This might've been weird for you guys to do before, but you both did so many weird things together, that this didn't even mean anything.

Choso always gets flustered easily, and it wasn't making it any easier for him now that you were making fun of him.

"You never call me husband, it's a... it's a new thing." He mumbles, leaning on the sofa.

"Can you get me a glass of water, husband?" You teased, doing a silly face.

You calling him husband again, wasn't helping him, at ALL.

"Stop..." He cleared his throat, his eyebrows furrowing.

Hearing you say husband again and again turned him on so much. Especially with your voice, the word husband. He could feel the bulge in his pants. He palmed it, trying to hide his boner from you.

Sitting up, you were confused, why wasn't he saying anything? Until you noticed his hand on his crotch, you knew what was happening.

You smirked as you crawled on his lap, poking his hand for him to move it.

Choso gulped as you placed yourself right against the bulge in his pants. Choso's size was big. Big for someone like him. You nearly blacked out when you both first had sex. That dick was WORLD-ending.

He appears innocent, yes, the man who buys you flowers whenever possible, the man who chases and follows you around, the man who writes poems for you, is the same man who has you a moaning mess, dumb on his cock every time.

Tears were rolling down your face. Him and his fucking stamina. Choso was fucking you through your fourth orgasm. You were a fucked out mess on his lap. His hands were on your waist, lifting you up and then letting you drop on his cock. The pleasure was overwhelming for you, you were just babbling and moaning, not being able to speak a word. His length kisses your cervix with each one of his deep thrusts, his hands placed on your ass, and his fingers digging in your flesh. His thrusts made you see stars every time, had your toes curling, and made your eyes roll back.

"Hngh.. f-fuck." He whimpered, as he jerked his head back, his fingers digging in your waist, leaving marks.

You felt another orgasm build up inside of you, your hands were placed on Choso's shoulders as you were riding him. He's even noisier than you are at this point. Loud whimpers, groans, and expressions from your warm and wet pussy clenching around him so tightly. Your nails were leaving little red marks on his shoulder, which is like a reward to him because he knows that you're making him feel good.

You were so close to your orgasm. You managed to whimper out a whiny "Choso...!", your pussy clenching around him even tighter.

"Haah, holy s-shit..." His voice cracked as he was interrupted by whimpers, feeling you tighten around him.

You felt like you were in heaven, your orgasms around his cock made a little ring around it.

He sped up his pace, his thrusts now bruising your cervix, his grip on your waist tightening. Your eyes rolled back, his fast and deep thrusts blurring your vision.

"F-fuck... wanna s-see you milk my cock ple-ase baby, o-oh my god..!" He whimpered, breathing heavily.

That sweet innocent man was fucking you as if he hated you. He hit your G-spot again and again, finally making you cream around his cock.

His eyes almost rolled back after he felt you milk his length and tighten around him.

All it took was a few more deep thrusts before he finally reached his orgasm. He made sure to have his cock deep inside of you so he can fill you to the brim, thick ropes of cum spurting out of his cock as he painted your walls white.

After cooling down for a few seconds, he finally lifted you off of his cock. Giving you a little kiss before carrying you to the bathtub to help you get cleaned up.

[3minsover]

back on my steddie bullshit fr

Thinking about hope(ful)less romantic Steve driving to Eddie's trailer in the pouring rain to finally confess his love after months of dancing around each other and almost-confessions that crumble on the tips of their tongues before they can become anything real.

Steve finds himself pacing around the ground floor of a house that's too big and too quiet, thinking about a guy who should never, ever have taken up as much of his brain as he currently does. It's a Friday night, and Eddie's most likely out at a gig, or at a bar, or doing nerd shit. He's most likely doing anything but thinking about Steve. And yet here Steve is, entirely preoccupied with the reckless marvel that is Eddie Munson.

Fuck it.

It's been four months since Vecna, and everyone seems to be okay again. It's been long enough that it wouldn't be weird for Steve to make a move, right?

Before Steve can really consider what it is he's about to do, he has his keys in hand and he's heading out towards his car. He doesn't even realize it was raining until he steps out onto the porch, tugging the door shut behind him. And there's not much thought that goes into any of it, really. It's instinctive, the way Steve knows the route to Eddie's place by now. Regardless of the thrashing of his heart, there's an easy kind of familiarity in the sodden streets and jutting roads. Steve's windshield wipers are working double time, fending off the sheets of rain that pile down amidst the humidity of late July; it'd been a cloudless day until the sun set. But like the heaviness of Steve's heart, the clouds had begun to weigh themselves down with water, waiting for the moment where the heft of it all became too much.

Steve hadn't quite beaten those clouds to the punch.

He arrives at Eddie's with really no recollection of how he'd gotten there, only that he needed to see him and nothing was going to get in his way. Eddie's already sitting out on the porch when he pulls up. The dusty ground is darker, saturated with fat, relentless raindrops. Eddie sits on the steps of his trailer, only just covered by the awning. The toes of his sneakers shine with wetness.

"Why are you out here?" Steve asks, clambering out of his car. It's all he can think to say. It's not the words he wants to purge, not the things that have been itching in his throat every time they've been alone together for the last however-many weeks. But it's what comes out.

"Wanted to hear the rain," Eddie responds, a cigarette pinched between his thumb and pointer finger. It's a simple enough response. Shouldn't warrant a reaction. Only, Steve's standing a few yards away, dampening by the moment, and he needs to just get it out.

"I need to- I gotta talk to you," Steve stutters, drifting closer. Eddie's eyes narrow.

"About what?" he asks, clearly skeptical.

"About you. Or, me. Us. I- shit, I used to be good at this." Steve raises a hand to swipe over his mouth: it comes away wet. He's fucking soaked, standing defenceless against the onslaught from above. Eddie flicks the cigarette and the butt lands at the base of the steps. He hinges upright, dropping down a step until the raindrops begin to splatter onto his curls, landing like spits of silver against the glow of the street lamps overhead.

"Good at what?" Eddie calls through the low rumble of the rain.

"Good at- I dunno, confessions? I told Nancy how I felt about her no problem. Robin was a little tougher, but I still got through that, but with you," Steve gushes, entirely unsure as to where he's going with this, "I just can't seem to find the words."

For an impossible amount of time, Eddie stares. His pretty features seem to go through about a half dozen emotions before he settles on something that Steve's soul recognizes as pity. He prepares himself for inevitable rejection.

"You're telling me you can't find the words?" Eddie asks, incredulous, "Dude, i'm a songwriter, a fucking wordsmith, and I've been drawing a blank on you for months!"

Steve squints, a little at a loss.

"What?" he asks, feels stupid for not getting it straight away.

"Steve, I should be able to write songs about the guy I love, right?"

"Well- Yeah- I- Wait, what?" Steve starts before Eddie's words catch up. The rain's growing heavier, beginning to sting his cheeks a little, but he's fixed to the spot, not daring to move any closer. It's Eddie that draws nearer, dropping down the final steps until they're on even footing.

"If you hadn't- If you didn't come over here tonight, I was gonna- I was gonna come to you. I had this whole fuckin' speech planned out - I'm pretty sure it was stupid, honestly, but I wrote it anyway, because I have all these goddamn feelings about you, Steve. And I couldn't find a way to make them sound like anything other than what they are." Eddie's waves are flattening by the second, darkening under the weight of the water falling from above. Steve's heart pounds against his ribs, threatens to break free altogether.

"But I- I came here to- You're- Eddie?"

"Fuck sake, Steve. I'm-"

"Wait." Steve interrupts him, his brain catching up all at once, overfilling and spilling over. "Wait, just let me- Can I say what I was gonna say?"

Eddie folds his arms around himself, chilled by the rain despite the thick warmth of summer around them.

"Sure. Shoot."

Steve heaves in a breath.

"Okay. Eddie. I've been thinking, and you and me, we're good, right? Like, for each other." A droplet of rain catches between Steve's lashes, forcing him to blink it away. Eddie's slim figure remains in front of him, proving that this is real, this isn't some hallucination, some daydream borne of an idle brain. "I think you and me could be something good. Great, even. And I- I- I think I- I know you maybe said it already, and I shouldn't even be-" Eddie strides forward, closing the space between them in a breathless moment. Steve's breath catches in his throat. Eddie's dark eyes dart frantically between Steve's own, so round and wide and beautiful. Steve's so in love with him. "Eddie, I'm- I think I've... fallen in love with you." Steve skates his palms over Eddie's biceps, up and over his shoulders, until he's cradling the sides of Eddie's neck. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I'm in love with you."

Where they're so closely matched in height, Steve's eyes are crossing just to keep his gaze focused on Eddie, who's looking more like the proverbial deer in headlights right now.

"Shit, Harrington," Eddie breathes, and Steve feels it warm against his rain-chilled lips, "took you long enough."

It's a kiss that follows, soft and hesitant, like Steve would do anything but lean into it, like he's anything but head over heels, absolutely and embarrassingly in love. it's a kiss, and it's wet and a little too cold, a little too out in the open, but Steve wouldn't change it for anything.

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

Scream, 1996

Pairing: Buck x Reader

Word count: 2k

Notes: This is it, this is my favorite one of all time... Okay that's not true but I'll say this is my favorite of the Kinktober 24' okay? Anyway there's A LOT going on in his one including just a lil hint of knife play

Day 10: Tittyfucking

“This is weird, this is so weird” Buck runs a hand over his hair, he can feel it shaking as he takes a deep breath. 

“She’s going to think it’s great, I’m telling you” Eddie stuffs a fry in his mouth.

Buck had FaceTimed him so he wouldn’t back out of this idea. You’d sent him a TikTok like a week ago, a “hear me out” was attached, and while he thought it was the funniest damn thing… he couldn’t get it out of his head and that was when he decided to plan something. 

The first thing he did was enlist Eddie's help because he knew he would chicken out of it before he’d even gotten around to getting everything he needed.

The costume was easy to find, so easy, especially around this time of year. Eddie was the one to convince him to use a real knife, as long as he somehow let you know it was real before anything started. 

Next, he’d started just… hinting that he’d had a surprise that he’d had an idea, and once he was sure you were onto him he decided it was time to get it in gear and make it happen. 

“What if she thinks I’m a freak” 

“Okay didn’t she literally send you the video? She’s a freak too bro” Eddie gestures with his chicken strip and Buck rolls his eyes. 

“Are you still coming over? I-I need help making sure she doesn’t try and kill me”

“Yeah, I’m still coming. Do you want me to come now?” 

“If it’s not too much trouble” he grins sheepishly and Eddie sighs, sipping his soda.

“I’ll be there in 10 bro” 

Eddie leans against the kitchen island, dipping his chicken tender into his barbecue sauce as Buck gets dressed. 

“Should I wear boxers?” 

“I dare you to wear a thong” 

“Bet” 

“Okay wait no I wasn’t-“ 

“Are you watching her location??” Buck comes downstairs, the mask balanced on his head, his robes in one arm…. And wearing a fucking thong leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination 

Eddie drops his chicken back in the bag and closes it up 

“There goes my appetite…” he mutters “Yeah I’m watching her location”

“Do I look okay?” He does a little spin and Eddie lets out a weird strangled noise as he gets an eyeful of Buck’s ass 

“Yeah dude you look great” 

“Okay good because-“

“Oh shit, shit her car pulled in, hurry up and finish!” 

Buck rushes to get changed and Eddie gathers all his stuff together, ready to leave as soon as humanly possible. 

“You two are freaks” He shakes his head and Buck grins, pulling the mask down over his face. 

“Yeah I know, it’s great right?!” He squeals excitedly as he goes to stand in the living room 

“Do I look scary??” 

“Terrifying”

The door locks turn and Eddie turns to look back, show time. 

“Hey, Eddie! What are you doing h-“

 You shriek and jump back as you look over to the living room where someone- whom you’re hoping is Buck, is standing… in a full Ghostface costume. You can already feel the heat building embarrassingly fast in your core. 

“The knife is very real” Eddie gestures with his soda, literally just ignoring your scream“And that-“ he sets it down, pointing. 

“Is your insane boyfriend” 

“Evan. Buckley.” Your mouth drops open as he stands across the room from you, Eddie grabs his jacket and keys from the counter 

“My job here is done imma just-” He points to the door and you nod, your mouth still open. 

“B-bye Eddie” You wave him off “Lock the door on your way out”

“Already done” 

The second the lock clicks shut, Buck takes a step forward and you take one back. Your eyes widen and his head tilts. 

“Ohhh my god” You cover your mouth, and he steps forward again 

“Quit it! That’s scary!” 

He opens his arms gesturing to the outfit 

“Yeah, I know it’s supposed to be! Shut up!” 

He gives you a double thumbs up and you giggle. You set your bag down on the counter and smirk at him. 

“So where do we go from here?” 

He shuffles through his clothing for a bit before brandishing a large kitchen knife. You gulp, okay maybe it was a little more scary than sexy right now. You’re about to come over to him when suddenly he lunges for you. 

You scream bloody murder and run around the counter, he chases right after you, just slightly slower than you are. Your back hits the wall and he lunges for you again, coming up short and hitting the wall instead. 

You’re standing a few feet away from him as he slowly turns his head to the side to stare at you, you stare right back into those empty black holes and you can almost see the grin on his face. He tilts his head slowly, before nodding to the stairs, you put your hands out in front of you before looking back for a second at the stairs. 

There’s no hope for you if you run up there… 

Good. 

You back up slowly as he starts stalking toward you again, both of you on the same page now. The back of your ankles hit the stairs and you turn around racing up the stairs. You scream again as you hear his heavy footsteps behind you, you make it to the top, turning around to see him and he’s right there. He covers your mouth this time and walks you backward, you fall back onto the bed and he climbs on top of you quickly, pinning you down. 

You buck your hips, twisting and trying to get out of his hold but it’s no use. He holds your chin tightly, squeezing your cheeks as he turns your face, just studying you. The knife comes up and you whimper as he slides the edge along your breast, you wince a little as you feel a tiny cut and his hand stops cold. He pulls the knife away, looking at the little bit of blood on it, and then back at you. 

“D-do it again” you whisper and you know his jaw is dropped just as wide as that mask is. 

“Better yet…” You look up at him and massage your breasts, you tease your nipples, circling your fingers around the hard nubs before you push them together, jiggling them for him 

“Will you promise not to kill me if I let you fuck them?” 

You can tell he doesn’t know what to do, you can practically see the little cogs in his brain turning as he tilts his head, you look up at him, so sweetly, so innocently, but there’s fear in your eyes and he likes that. 

He finally moves, snapping the strings of your tank top with the knife and dragging the tip down the center of your body. Your eyes widen as you watch it tear your top in two. 

That’s… sharp. 

He teases the tip around your belly button and you hold your breath, every breath you can feel it poking into you. 

He reaches up, caressing your face and you can practically hear his voice praising you like he always does 

“So beautiful, so perfect” 

He moves down your body, parting your thighs with the knife, and maneuvers you out of your shorts, he knows those are your favorites he won’t ruin those. 

Your panties, however…

He cuts those off too and your body shudders at the cool air, you prop yourself up on your elbows and watch him. He drags one gloved finger through your folds and your breath hitches. 

He shakes his head and you know he’s chuckling. He rubs your clit in torturous little circles, watching you spread your legs, your head falls back slowly and you’re distracted by the way it feels. You’re moving your hips on his finger when suddenly he pulls it away. Your head snaps up and before you can even pout.

He slides the handle of the knife inside you

“O-oh my god”

He holds your hips in place, slowly working the knife in and out of you, the soft curved end hits that spongy spot inside you and you fight not to jerk your hips. 

“F-faster, please” you beg and he looks at you as you spread your legs wider. 

“You knew I was a freak when you asked me to be your girlfriend” 

You’ve got him there. 

He goes faster firmly planting his hand down so you can’t move, your back arches and you claw at the covers. 

“I need you inside me, please I need you” you keen softly and he can’t help himself, he pulls the knife away and you shriek as he stabs it into the pillow next to you. He grabs you by the neck, maneuvering you so your head hangs off the bed, and climbs on top of you. 

You’re dizzy and confused for a second before you hear the sound of a little bottle popping open and a slick liquid being poured over your chest. He pops the top again and you feel him position himself between your tits, his cock nestled between your breasts. With a firm grip on your tits, he thrusts forward, sinking into your soft, warm cleavage.

He thrusts a bit faster, his cock sliding between your tits, the sensation making you both groan. Your head bounces lightly with the intensity of his thrusts, making you even dizzier.

Buck reaches up, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers, adding to the stimulation. He can feel his climax building, his balls tightening as he gets closer to the edge.

With a final, hard thrust, he comes undone. He throws his head back, a silent scream of ecstasy behind the mask as he spills himself across your chest. His cock twitches and pulses, painting your skin with his release.

You’re both panting hard, your hips grinding against nothing but air as he climbs off of you. You hear his clothing rustle but he doesn’t help you up, instead, he lifts your legs, your ankles resting on his shoulders.

Buck’s done his best to stay silent through this, even if he wants nothing more than to shower you with praises and nasty words. His eyes widen as he sees you spread open before him, your pussy glistening with arousal. He licks his lips, his cock already hardening again at the sight.

He lines himself up with your entrance, the head of his cock teasing your folds. He groans quietly as he thrusts forward, burying himself inside you to the hilt. Your eyes roll back and your hands come down to brace yourself on the floor. 

His hips start to move in a relentless rhythm. He fucks you hard and deep, his thick cock stretching your walls deliciously with each thrust. His fingers dig into your flesh the harder he pounds into your pussy. 

You can’t help the high-pitched little noises that each rough snap of his hips rips out of you. You can feel your orgasm building faster and faster, all the way down to your toes. That hot feeling spreads through your body as Buck reaches between your thighs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in tight circles.

You scream out his name, your entire body shaking as you squirt on his cock, your juices splashing over his thighs as he cums inside you, fucking you through both of your highs. 

His hips begin to slow down to messy strokes before he collapses on top of you. He carefully pulls you up from hanging upside down so the blood in your head can go right back where it belongs. 

You reach up and pull the mask off staring at his sweet face 

“T-that was the hottest fucking thing we’ve ever done” 

“You really think so?” 

He’s so giddy, peppering soft little kisses all over your face and you giggle, cupping his cheeks and kissing him. 

“Especially the knife chasing, that was so exciting”

“I think I liked seeing your blood dripping from that knife” He growls playfully in your ear, dragging his hand lazily down your torso and settling his fingers between your legs 

Your thighs squeeze around his hand and he smirks 

“I liked that too” You blush, wrapping your arms around his neck 

“If you think this was fun, you just wait until my vampire costume comes in”

[lvnleah]

003. | this isn’t right

word count: 2.2k

find the masterlist here!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

October 15th 2023 | 15 weeks pregnant.

Your eyes fluttered open as Leah’s alarm blared from the bedside table beside you. She lifted her arm from where it was draped over your stomach and reached over for her phone, turning the alarm off.

“Morning love,” she whispered, placing a kiss on your temple once she saw you were awake, “sorry my alarm woke you up.”

“It’s okay,” you mumbled, your eyes closing shut for a moment again.

As your eyes reopened, nausea hit you once again like it had done every morning for the past fifteen weeks. You tried to swallow the feeling down and let it pass but it didn’t.

You threw the duvet off of your body as quickly as you could before running into the ensuite that you and Leah had. The cool tiles of the bathroom floor met your bare feet as you stumbled in, one hand pressed against your mouth. The nausea intensified, starting to already overwhelm you.

Leah followed closely behind you and you fell in front of the toilet. You leaned over the toilet, emptying the contents of your stomach until there was nothing left. Leah held your hair back, her fingers soothing against your scalp as she ran her hand up and down your back.

You thought by now the morning sickness would’ve passed like everyone said it would but it hadn’t. It was controlling your life. Your diet was plain and beige and any time you did eat or drink, you were sick soon after it.

All you felt like you were doing was constantly sleeping and being sick. You’d been to see your doctor multiple times who’d given you different anti-sickness tablets to try but none of them seemed to work.

“You’re so so well, pretty girl,” Leah encouraged you, “Can I get you anything?”

You managed a weak shake of your head, your throat raw from the repeated retching. Leah's unwavering presence was both a comfort and a burden. She needed to get ready for training, but here she was, tending to you. Guilt ate away at you.

“Le, you need to get ready,” you murmured, head resting in your hands as you finally got a break.

Leah shook her head, “No, you and our bubba our more important,” she sternly said, “Jonas knows our situation, he knows you’re struggling, if I’m late then I’ll just explain.”

Twenty minutes later, you were finally able to tear yourself away from the toilet. Leah helped you into the living room, flicking the TV on before draping the blankets over you.

Leah made you some dry toast and water, two of the few things that you could stomach. You sat on the couch together and watched some TV before Leah got ready for training.

“Right pretty girl, I’m off,” Leah smiled as she leaned down to kiss you on the sofa, “Our ultrasounds at four right?” She double-checked.

You nodded, “Yeah it is, I’m hoping I’ll be able to get something better for this morning sickness.”

“We’ll talk to the doctor,” Leah nodded. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching for yours. “Promise me you’ll call if you need anything.”

“I promise.” You pressed your lips to hers. “Have a good day, tell Beth I say hi.”

“I love you,” her hand dropped down to your bump as she leaned down to place a kiss on your stomach, “I love you little Gooner, be good for you Mummy.”

You smiled, “I love you too.”

Leah left, and you curled up under the blanket, praying the nausea would pass. But it clung to you like a shadow, refusing to let go. You closed your eyes and soon fell into a deep sleep, catching up on the sleep you’d missed out on last night.

A few hours later, you were woken up by Leah. Her hands ran up and down your legs as you laid on the sofa, your hair in a mess as it laid all over your face.

“Hey,” she whispered, brushing your hair back. “How are you feeling now?”

You sat up, and the room spun. “Better, I think. What time is it?”

Leah’s brow furrowed. “You sure? It’s three o’clock, pretty girl.”

You nodded, but your stomach still churned, “shit, I’ve been asleep all day. I’m so tired, the nausea is still there but I haven’t been sick since you left.”

“That’s good, love,” Leah smiled, sitting down beside you and placing your legs on her thighs, “and don’t feel bad about doing nothing, you’re growing a baby. That ain’t nothing.”

You rubbed the sleep away from your eyes, “I’ve slept the whole day away! The flat is a mess, Le.”

She rubbed your ankles calmly, “Hey, don’t stress, it’s fine. We’ve got an hour until we need to be at the doctors so why don’t you go get yourself ready and I’ll tidy.”

You sat up and nodded your head, “Okay, I love you so much.” Your emotions washed over you quickly and you felt tears building up in your eyes, “What did I do to deserve you?”

Leah laughed, using the pad of her thumb to wipe away a stray tear that had fallen, “Don’t cry, pretty girl! You’re doing amazing, I’m proud of you. I know how things are tough right now but I’m proud of you.”

“Don’t make me cry even more!” You warned, pointing your index finger at her. “Stupid fucking hormones!”

You leaned over and pecked Leah’s lips before wandering off into your bedroom and getting yourself ready. As you were doing your makeup, a wave of nausea washed over you.

Dropping everything, you dashed to the bathroom before throwing yourself down beside the toilet. You empty the little contents that your stomach contained, only getting a few minutes of peace before you were dry heaving.

“Woah, pretty girl,” Leah said as she entered the en-suite, she scooped your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, “sick again?”

You nodded and hummed, “I’m so sick of this, Le. I feel like it’s just dragging on now. It’s three thirty, I shouldn’t be sick!”

“I know love,” Leah nodded, “I think we should talk to the doctor about it and see what she says. I don’t want you to worry but there’s this thing, hyperemesis gravidarum, where your morning sickness lasts for longer than the usual pregnancy does. You’ve got all the symptoms, maybe we should mention it to the doctor?”

You groaned, sinking back against the cool bathroom tiles. “Hyper-what?” you mumbled, trying to focus through the haze of nausea.

“Hyperemesis gravidarum,” Leah repeated gently, keeping her voice steady. “It’s a severe form of morning sickness. I read about it last night.”

You closed your eyes, feeling tears prick at the corners. “But what if it’s something else? What if there’s something wrong with the baby?”

Leah’s hand rubbed up and down your back comfortingly. “I’m sure everything’s okay, but we need to talk to the doctor. It might mean we need to get you on some different medication or maybe even some IV fluids.”

You took a deep breath, trying to get rid of the rising panic. “I just want to feel normal again.”

Leah kissed the top of your head, her voice soothing. “We’ll get through this, I promise. One step at a time.”

You nodded, feeling the overwhelming discomfort. “Okay. I think I’m okay to get ready now.”

Leah helped you up slowly, and you leaned on her. After managing to get dressed and gather your things, you and Leah headed out to the doctor's appointment. The drive was filled with a mix of anxious silence and supportive hand squeezes from Leah as the radio played quietly in the background.

“Lovely parking, Leah.” Leah complemented herself as she reversed perfectly, “Well done.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “you did not just compliment yourself.”

“Hell yeah, I did!” Leah smiled before getting out of the car and admiring her parking, “Look at how perfect that was!”

You got out and joined her, “Amazing babe, well done. Maybe take a photo to remember it!”

“Don’t take the mick out of me!” Leah gasped as you wandered off into the doctors.

You walked into the doctor’s office, Leah’s hand securely around yours. The familiar antiseptic smell mixed with the soft murmur of conversations from the waiting room made you feel a little uneasy.

After a short wait, a nurse called your name, and you and Leah followed her into an examination room. Dr. Thompson, your doctor, entered soon after, her kind eyes scanning the room.

“So, how are we feeling today?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

You exchanged a glance with Leah before answering. “Not great. The nausea and vomiting have been really bad, worse than the usual morning sickness. Leah read about something called hyperemesis gravidarum.”

Dr. Thompson nodded, taking a seat and opening her notebook. “I’m glad you brought that up. Hyperemesis gravidarum can be quite challenging. We’ll discuss your symptoms and see what we can do to help.”

You described the relentless nausea, the constant trips to the bathroom, and the struggle to keep anything down. Dr. Thompson listened intently, making notes.

“Based on what you’ve told me, it does sound like you might be experiencing hyperemesis gravidarum,” she said thoughtfully. “We’ll need to run some tests to be sure, but in the meantime, I can prescribe some antiemetics and we might consider IV fluids to keep you hydrated.”

Leah’s grip on your hand tightened. “Will the baby be okay?”

Dr. Thompson smiled reassuringly. “With the right management, both you and the baby will be fine. It’s about finding what works best for you to manage the symptoms.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. “Thank you. Are there any foods I can avoid or that will help?”

Dr. Thompson nodded. “There are some dietary adjustments you can try. Eating small, frequent meals can help, and bland foods like crackers, plain rice, and toast are often easier to tolerate. Ginger tea or ginger chews might also ease the nausea. Avoid greasy, spicy, or acidic foods as they can make the symptoms worse.”

Leah gave you a supportive smile. “We’re already stocked up on all the bland foods.”

You chuckled, appreciating her attempt to lighten the mood. “Guess I’m going to follow your plain and beige diet!”

Dr. Thompson handed you a pamphlet. “This has more tips on managing hyperemesis. Don’t hesitate to call if your symptoms get worse or if you have trouble keeping fluids down. Are you ready to see your baby?”

You and Leah both nodded before you laid back on the examination table. You hadn’t seen your baby since your first ultrasound so you were both intrigued as to what they’d look like at 15 weeks.

Dr. Thompson dimmed the lights in the room and wheeled over the ultrasound machine. She applied a cool gel to your abdomen and began moving the transducer gently over your belly. The monitor flickered to life, revealing grainy shadows and then, suddenly, a clearer image emerged.

"There's your little one," Dr. Thompson said warmly, pointing to the screen. "And there's the heartbeat." She zoomed in, showing you the tiny flutter of movement that indicated a strong heartbeat.

Leah gasped softly, her eyes welling up with tears. "Oh wow," she whispered. "Look at them."

You couldn't help but smile, feeling a surge of emotion as you watched your baby wiggle and squirm on the screen. Their little arms and legs were just beginning to form, and it was a miraculous sight.

"They look healthy," Dr. Thompson commented, tracing a measurement on the screen. "And it seems like they're quite active already, you should start to feel some movements in the next few weeks.”

You smiled at Leah, “When can we find out the gender?” Leah asked.

“I can tell now but I’m not a hundred percent sure so it may be incorrect,” Dr. Thompson said, “I’d say around twenty weeks I’ll be able to correctly tell.”

“Sounds perfect.” You nodded, “They’ve grown so much.”

You left the clinic, clutching the ultrasound image of your baby. Leah couldn’t tear her eyes away from it once again and as soon as you were home, it was hung up on your fridge with your other ultrasound picture.

“I’m so tired,” you yawned as Leah laid down on the couch, pulling you down to lay on top of her, “I feel like I could sleep for years!”

Leah laughed as you rested your head on her chest, her hand absentmindedly falling to your small bump, “Why don’t you take a nap, pretty girl. It’s been a rough day for you.”

You nodded before leaning up and kissing Leah’s jawline. Your eyelids grew heavy and Leah draped a blanket over both of you. You felt Leah’s warmth beside you, her heartbeat like a lullaby for you. As Leah gently stroked your hair, her touch soothing and comforting, you nestled closer to her.

"I love you," you whispered softly, your words barely audible in the quiet of the room.

Leah pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head. "I love you too, pretty girl."

With her arms wrapped protectively around you, You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to fall asleep. The steady rise and fall of Leah's chest beneath you, the comforting touch of her hand on your belly where your baby nestled, lulled you into a deep, restful slumber.