#no reason this ask should've taken this long

[thee-horny-thicky]

This might be a weird request. But I was looking for a Muzan or douma x reader. However whenever they get intimate- the female never moans. It’s not that she doesn’t enjoy it she just isn’t very vocal which annoys and gives them a complex. The fact they can’t even get a human girl to moan annoys and frustrates them. She’s shy, little insecure (chubbier side) so never moans. Also doesn’t get off on general just touching etc. it excites her but doesn’t get her soaked.

Congratulations, Anon. You've been selected for 'Drafts Thicky Should Finish and Post Program!' I chose to do Douma for one because that's what past me chose to do. Anyway, enjoy!

Much didn’t hurt Douma’s pride. But you, a little human maid, succeeded easily. You were supposed to be a distraction, a way to get his dick wet. Then, when he was done with you, he’d turn you into a meal. You had a cute face and ample curves that’d keep him well-fed. At least, that was the plan, until you rejected him.

“I’m honored,” you’d said, a blush consuming your plump cheeks.

He remembered grinning smugly, thinking he had you in his trap. Then, you’d continued speaking, wiping his smile away.

“But I must decline your offer."

With that, you’d bowed and scurried away, leaving a shocked Douma in your wake.

Your rejection had lit a fire under Douma, spurring him to chase you until he finally got you in his bed. Somewhere along the way, he’d grown attached to you, the game of cat and mouse being played throwing a wrench in his plans to fuck and eat you. Through hours of stalking and harassing, he’d gotten to know you, and your gentle, bashful demeanor reminded him of Kotoha, when he’d first stumbled across her. Maybe that’s why, after he just finished fucking you, he had no interest in consuming your flesh. Or perhaps, it was because his mission felt incomplete. He’d bedded you, yes, but you barely made a peep. Your lip stayed firmly between your teeth, and when he managed to coax a sound out of you, it was only a few whimpers.

Worst of all, Douma didn’t think you came.

So, there he lay, stewing in frustration and humiliation, tangled in the sheets, his nude body pressed against yours. He had half the mind to snap your neck right there, for all the effort you were making him put in. But if he did, he’d have no chance to redeem himself. So, instead, he voiced what was on his mind.

“Was I not good?” he blurted, the question sounding absurd coming from his lips.

He was Upper Moon #2, irrefutably handsome, powerful, intelligent, and had a legion of loyal followers. He’d given many pleasure before you and would continue to give pleasure to many after you. Douma was more than good enough, he was amazing, and yet you had him questioning himself.

One day, you’d pay for that.

You looked at him, face flushed, lips swollen from his kisses, and eyes glossy. You looked thoroughly ravished, except you hadn’t fucking come.

“It felt good,” you said with a small smile, meant to be reassuring, but doing nothing for him. “I-I just don’t…”

You trailed off, then shook your head, looking away as your cheeks grew hotter. “Never mind. It’s silly. I…I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Tell me,” he ordered, feeling borderline desperate.

You sighed, then refocused on him. “I…I just don’t have intense orgasms. Really, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

He stared at you, not fully understanding. Never had he been with a woman who didn’t have a noticeable orgasm. Douma analyzed everything he’d done to you, which was rather tame compared to past encounters. He limited it to fingers and cock, too consumed with want to do anything else.

Oh.

Oh.

At that moment, he had a revelation, suddenly feeling like a dumbass. Penetration alone wasn’t enough for many women.

His gaze remained locked on yours, and the longer he stared, the more embarrassed your expression became. “Just forget I said anything,” you said pleadingly.

Absolutely not.

Instead of obliging, he sat up fully and crawled over your prone form. First, he kissed your neck, relishing in your soft gasp. He smiled against your skin. Already, you were proving his theory correct.

“Silly me, not savoring you properly,” he murmured as he kissed down your body, stopping at your breasts.

You squirmed, trying to escape his touch, but he held you in place

“Y-you don’t have to do this,” you panted, before whimpering when his tongue swirled around your pebbled nipples.

As he sucked and nibbled, he could feel your heartbeat quickening under his palm, smell your arousal, sense the blood pumping through your veins. The results he was getting just couldn’t be denied.

“But I want to,” he said, before switching to the other breast and giving it the same attention.

You moaned, back arching, hands tangling in his hair. Any protests you had died a quick death.

When he had his fill of your full tits, he resumed his descent, kissing your soft belly, then your wide hips, and finally your thick thighs. The smell of your wet heat had his mouth watering. He parted your legs, taking a moment to admire the slickness that greeted him, before leaning down and swiping his tongue along your slit. When your taste hit his taste buds, he groaned. You tasted so sweet. He imagined your flesh and blood would be just as flavorful.

When he spread your lower lips to have full access, he blew air onto your dripping sex, chuckling at your whimper and pathetic shoves. Teasingly, his tongue darted to sample some of your juices. The rich, tangy taste made his restraint snap. Not even a second later, he speared his tongue inside your core, nearly drooling at just how delectable you were, at the sweet sounds you were finally making.

“Oh!” you gasped, gripping the sheets and arching into his mouth.

He ate you with gusto, his eagerness reflecting his hunger for you, literal and metaphorical. Each move he made resulted in his nose bumping your clit, stimulating you further. Your shyness started to disappear, and soon, you were shamelessly grinding against his face, chasing the pleasure you’d been deprived of earlier.

Silly Douma, thinking his cock was the best part of him. Clearly, it was his mouth. Not only was he an excellent conversationalist, but his tongue could bring pleasure to any woman, a fact you were reaffirming.

He kept a firm grip on your thighs and hips, keeping you still as he feasted. To send you hurling toward the edge, he rubbed his thumb over your clit in quick, firm circles. Moments later, your body was tensing, your pussy clenching around his tongue as you came.

“Don’t stop, please!” you cried as you experienced your peak, moaning at the top of your lungs.

He had no intention to. He licked and fingered you through your orgasm, drawing out your pleasure until you were a sweaty, panting mess. He was content staying between your legs the rest of the night, finally sampling your flavor and pleasing you. It was a win/win, and most importantly, saw the return of the ego that defined him.

TLTR: Reader only has intense orgasms from having her pussy ate

[shotmrmiller]

sugar daddy!simon would go so hard cuz he'd need no sugar but lets his hand linger on the small of your back when standing at the register with his wallet out or grab your foot to massage beneath the table at the upper scale restaurant yall are dining at.

he doesn't push (surprisingly but hey it works for you!) you give him whatever you want, be it just your hand to hold or a chaste kiss on the cheek in thanks after carrying all the stuff he bought to your room. he spoils you rotten regardless but then the issue comes when you actually want him to touch you.

simon doesn't touch. not when you model the little slips of clothing he so generously gifted you from that one overpriced shop at the mall. not when you wear his favorite skirt, the one that got him to talk to you in the first place on the sugar daddy website. not when you invite him in for a nightcap, letting your bare legs rest on top of his while watching a movie.

he. doesn't. touch.

simon doesn't touch you even when you want him to.

keeps his right hand curled around the glass he's nursing and the other laying on the backrest of the couch when you tell him if he wants to peel off the undergarments he'd just bought you today. (a shot you don't shoot is a shot missed anyway.)

"'s not necessary," he says. "got 'em for you to wear." he hasn't taken his eyes off the screen once.

that'd sting more if you hadn't caught him discreetly palming himself outside his trousers while you'd modeled these too.

"might not be necessary but it's what i want." that gets his attention, an arrogant curl on his lip making your heart flutter in your chest.

he gives your knee a squeeze. "i've always given you everythin' you've ever wanted but this is the one thing you're gonna 'ave to work for."

work for? simon doesn't wait for you to ask what he means.

"only way i'm touchin' ya is if ya beg," he rumbles.

should've known it was too good to be true. but you've got an ache between your legs that won't go away no matter how many times you've used the rose (also another gift.) guess you'll just have to "beg".

/

your definition of begging and his are not even in the same dimension. he had shot you down when you'd said please. when you'd batted your pretty eyes at him while saying please. when you'd gotten on your knees between his legs and said please with your hands flat on the carpet.-

simon had only tapped you on the nose and said, "'s good, but not good enough."

what had been good enough was you riding his thigh until sweat slicked your skin, until your lip trembled with need, until his trousers looked like he'd spilled his drink on it while you mewled out your please's.

only then had wiped the corner of your eyes with his thumb and whispered tiny words of praise into your ear, his breath warm against it.

"wasn't so hard, was it, pet?" you'd been beyond reason at that point, core burning almost painfully hot with desire, so you'd jerkily shaken your head. anything to finally get him to touch you like how you need.

his long fingers splayed out across the back of your head, palm almost engulfing your entire head. "now tell me where you want me to touch."

he touches with clever fingers, his warm tongue, even uses his crooked nose to rub at your pearl while his thumb, spit slick, presses into the girl of your arse. having him fuck you is a whole different beast you have to tackle. if you plead for something, anything, he'll rut his cock between your thighs and come over your sticky pussy :)

[acid-ixx]

〔00〕 — 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌 : perfect perception

DIRECTORY: concept, chapter 00, chapter 01

it was always just you, and your family.

just you, your mother, twin brother, and grandfather. the puzzle is complete, there is no need for an extra couple of pieces to add on to your already satiated life. there is no need to work hard, or to endure painful endeavors to attain what you want; not when your family would complete it all for you.

it wasn't like you could, or should, complain, no? you have everything granted to you from when you were born. scarred hands, jagged figure, weary eyes; those aren't necessary for a person like you, who will always be sheltered, in both cozy blankets and loving arms. oblivious to the cruel world and pesting hands that claw on innocent beings like you.

a steady house life, a mother who shielded your innocence from all the bloodshed within the family's ordeals, who read to you fairytales, who had you sleep in her bed when you feared, when you foresaw what you thought were monsters under your bed. instead of inhibiting hatred for an heir who'd flinch at raising hands and the sound of clanging swords, she encouraged your meak demeanor and even spoiled tantrums. she runs her hands across your silky tresses, and kisses your forehead a thousand times if you'd even mention it in a passing moment. she dresses you in jewels, in velvety, silky clothes, and bathes you in toys and gifts you never seem to ask for. your little body sleeps on her chest, and listen the steady beat of her heart, calm and beating, all for you.

you teach her softness, and the joys of being a mother. a concept foreign in her eyes, raised opposite to you. she sees herself in you, and projects what should've been her childhood to her youngest twin child.

you have a twin brother, who, despite being born only a few minutes before you, was significantly older than you, both mentally and spiritually. from the moment he was taken into the world, his duty to take all your pain away and to become your very light was established. and like the warrior he is, he takes that daunting task and transforms it into motivation. he is your knight in shining armor, the prince who catches you when you fall, the one who braves your nightmares, the swordman to your royalty. he trains, all day and night, from such a young age to protect you from unnecessary dangers he understood even his mother fears you'd be subjected to. he does not complain, he does not find reasons to gripe; he takes the scars, the bruises, the punishments and missions all in stride. if it meant seeing you happy and unaware from all the cruelty of living; then so be it. as long as, by the end of the day, he comes back to your shared room to find your tiny form drawing a childish imagery of the little family you love and cherish.

you teach him compassion, vulnerability, and share with him the admiration for arts.

then there is your grandfather. a hardened leader, a monster to all those who serve, but an idol in the eyes of oblivious you. he justifies violence in the wake of achieving his goals, he doesn't tolerate mankind's treatment of nature and its animals, and takes the lives of those who dares oppose. but you are treated differently, like glass that shatters at the softest of hits. his words are sugarcoated and stripped down to the most infantine of comprehension, his eyes are soft every time he kneels to your level to gently request that you return to your room. ra's does not kneel, he does not plead, he does not stoop to those younger than him. but to you, naive and dewy-eyed, akin to a fawn hiding behind a mother's legs, he does. every week, he takes in various experts in the field of teaching to become your mentors in whatever passion you have. he is the foundation of your growth, and he prides himself in that regard.

from him, you learn your love of animals. from you, he learns of weakness, and defeat to such platonic desires.

with your little family, you are happy. you never have to find reasons to complain about food, clothes, or any luxuries their family, akin to royalty, could obtain. you have a family smothering you in affection, attention, to the point where all you have to do is smile at the slightest thing and notice how they melt to your whims.

you were never alone when you didn't want to, you were always guarded, safe, and constantly served.

as you should, as it always should be.

and it was a routine you were used to. you never complained, you never pondered beyond primitive knowledge, you had never desired for more, or wanted less. life was normal despite the strange arrangements with servants always being by your beck and call, or how your brother would always seem to come seeking you after another day of "hard work" your mother doesn't permit you to try, with gashes that litter his tan skin and usually sharp eyes, still fixed with a glare though softened once your arms come to coddle him as a reward.

he finds comfort in your hold. it never once registered within you his ever-growing strength and how his hold on you would always seem to to tighten whenever a potential friend would pass by.

yet you are loved either way, you are cared for. what more is there to ask when you have and always been the singular pearl dripping with grace, poise, and a softness beyond the brutish weapons swung within the training grounds your brother finds himself in.

you are loved by everybody: by your mother, by your brother, by your grandfather, and you're the necessary voice that calls out mercy for whenever a servant would be punished for maintaining a less than satisfactory performance when it comes to serving you. you're the light of reason beyond instictive swings of the sword and the impulsive raise of a voice demanding for battle to settle a deal; biting your lips in disappointment every time your mother attempts to punish a small mistake a servant would do right in front of you.

although certain voices in the hallways find your presence... unsavory, out of place, or they simply pity you; whispers filtering through the kind words everyone else never withdraws from you— nonetheless, they'd have no choice but to obey your childish whims, to smile at you, to be kind and diligent to your emotions.

everything is perfect.

yes, yes it is. an undeniable fact within the factions of your heart. you ignore the subtle strain within your chest, the way the emptiness becomes blatant, and the misunderstood desire for something else... something greater, far beyond the honor of your current family; and replace it with temporary joy.

a joy that softly smiles at the piling gifts, a joy that teaches itself to be good, to be grateful, and to dismiss the ever-changing spotlight you have for your family.

to ignore their hushed whispers whenever your small, eight-year old form with wide eyes, holding a toy between your chest, inquire about what they're discussing with that requires such... strained air and ridged poses.

to ignore their careful words, their gentle hands that pats your hair, that beckons you to come to a different room, and the irritation and bubbling tantrums paired with the heat that wraps your boiling thoughts and clenching hands.

you ignore, and try to neglect that growing ache that insurmountably never passes.

even if you lay in bed every night, unable to sleep, gaining consciousness slowly but surely after another day passes.

you ignore, and dismiss, and it all becomes a cycle that you ought to never break, to never rupture with childish curiosity and the thirst for wisdom.

... because everything is perfect.

everything is perfect. like the candlelight beams of the moon dancing through victorian styled windows, fluttering past the curtains to kiss your resting body every night you lay sleeping on a king-sized mattress, surrounded by soft, cotton plushies and silky, cool blankets as your brother coddles you; your head laying on his chest like routine.

it is perfect like the gardens of flowers all planted with your favorites, an array of colors harmoniously dancing to the sway of traversing winds and bumbling pollinators.

it is perfect like the daily hustle and bustle of your servants, buzzing through wide spans of hallways with their voices mingling through busy air and the wafting scent of a new delicacy your mother ornately chose for you to try.

everything was perfect, until it wasn't.

until the illusion of completeness, of unity and satisfaction were shattered like the bones of your brother's opponents, powderized to mere dust.

until you take notice of the hollow piece in your heart, until your servant mentions a father (a word so foreign, so similar to mother... but different all the same) in mere passing when you two had conversed whilst they were tying your shoes.

at first, you didn't pay a mind, proposing to yourself that you'd ask your mother instead after you've finished your daily assignments.

but then, unlike every other time where you dismissed, ignored and forgot— you began to ponder.

the word, the meaning, its possible etymology and every historical relationship it might've contained; a lesson your brilliant mentor taught you, one that served as a paveway for curious, little you, to investigate.

a trait you're sure nobody really tackled within your family.

if that is so, then where does your stubbornness, your drive to seek answers, come from?

you try to solve the puzzle pieces, ones you thought were never present in your life, your mind wracking through stored memories of a young, prying individual like you; until you came to a conclusion.

does it possibly come from a... father?

father...?

father?

father.

... your brother, too, said the same word.

when he was tired and beat from his training, when all he wanted was a singular hug, whose hands were stained with dripping ichor and knees bruised from hitting upon rocky ground. his emerald eyes were seeking your presence, and you find how his delirious state, itching for calm after another stormy trial of missions, was abnormal; unlike you who flinched at the dizzying scent of blood.

too mature, now you've noticed. a presence that exudes superiority, that takes the lives of those who rebel, that punishes anything less than perfect; that only softens, whose shoulders only sag when he takes in your presence within the same room as him— traits too foreign in the midst of a brother the same age as you.

so when you denied him of oasis, when your young brain was too scared, too worried and all the more wishing for answers on why he always comes back bleeding and injured, rejecting his offer for you to come closer— he all but seethes, and instead sighs; watching your quivering lips and the igniting fight in your eyes, a shaded mixture of your mother's and his.

"you're exactly like what mother told me. stubborn like our father when inconsolable... but i love you too much, akhi/akhti, to care for your lesser."

he muttered under his breath, emerald eyes gleaming under moonlit glow as he looks at you, emotions too miscellaneous beyond the swirling pools of green that always keeps a watch on you.

sometimes, he feels less like a brother and more of a knight. sometimes, you wish to rebel and instead dig deep into what's been happening to your brother these past few years, shaped by experience you never once caught yourself transpiring through. sometimes, you wish he doesn't treat you like a glass ornament.

sometimes, you wish you had a normal family.

as much as his words were sweet, as much as you would've felt warmth at the mere affection and exception he holds you in regard to his heart, even if he takes your body in his arms prior to your previous rejection, all but melting and rocking your body to sleep; a common method he utilizes to make you feel drowsy, and to eventually forget the blood on his sheathed sword and sinful hands once your eyes drift to a close—

you still reflect upon his words even if weeks had already passed by after that incident, even if he must've thought your somnolence was enough to dismiss whatever was the 'grammatical' mistake he'd mumbled that night was a product of fatigue after a long day of work.

... because despite being the perfect family, despite the love and care they foster within your heart; washing off the beating emptiness in your chest was harder than any injuries you've obtained after momentary clumsiness.

at least you knew when those scars were incurred, at least you had people to comfort you through the tears that escaped through your eyes.

but this immaterial emptiness has long since festered within the confines of your caged soul.

it beckons you to choose rebellion, it traps your thumping heart and tightens its hold on it, snaring it in a pit you couldn't crawl yourself out of.

desire drives you further away from delusion, from the foundations of weaved lies and rose-tinted picturesque perfection.

and you began to crave satiation to at least mend the missing puzzle piece in your heart; piece by piece, stitch by stitch.

who is your father? what is a father? why did dami told me i'm like... our father?

as you sit alone in your bed, toys long forgotten, alone with only the cool breeze fluttering by your window to accompany you. the questions begin to grate at your mind, yet all you do is bring your knees closer to your chest, lips dry at the forgone isolation you put yourself through after a cycle of endless thinking.

"momma will be here soon," you mutter to yourself. your voice, meek and highly pitched, young and cradling childish curiosity; it breaks at the seams when your fingers bring itself to touch and wipe away at wet cheeks and tender, aching eyes.

dami was right; you are stubborn like your father.

because even if they try all necessary means to shroud your life in seclusion from reality— you don't easily back out of a losing fight.

even if the tears you shed from the lack of progress were insurmountable, even if you knew you were at a physical disadvantage shall push come to shove where you'd have to fight your dearest brother, even if it means struggling against the invisible shackle your beloved family locked you in.

because your perfect perception of your fucked up family has long since dissipated from the moment your servant and your brother mentioned a foreign word.

a simple word, a small mistake, yet acting as a newer path of life that long since diverged from the only way you knew how to live.

and you still wish to solve the mystery of your forlorn emptiness.

will you give up just so easily? would the tears you shed all become mere depression?

no, not even as you sit in your too-huge bed, with no clue on where or how to start a hopeless journey; too young to plan, too little to fight, too tenderhearted in the views of your family.

even then, your red, rubbed raw eyes seek to look back on your first hint from within the room

a dictionary was sprawled across the opposite end of the bed, thrown haphazardly, opened to a certain page that highlights words closest to 'father'.

you crawl, with sore arms and wobbly legs, to retrieve the heavy, hard-bound and gold-encased dictionary, lounging on your bed with a damaged spine.

your fingers return to traverse multiple pages yet again—

stubborn, impatient and impulsive.

earlier, it came to you in the form of realization that the dictionary your mentor assigned you to read had a missing word cut precisely with a blade and replaced with an unintelligible one.

earlier, you realized just how much your perfect family was only perfect because they've hidden the truth from you.

earlier should've been years ago, earlier should've never been swept off the rug so easily. but what could an eight year old like you do? you've none of damian's talents to quickly learn, you're raised differently. it is only now you wish you weren't so gullible.

and as your fingers strum against pages, near to ripping out expensive paper, tears unceasing, lips bitten 'til bleeding— you learn, and you grow beyond simple comprehension.

motivation, and the drive to uncover all things unsaid, even if the end would result in something negative.

through them, you'll soon learn of spite, of anguish, and bitter contempt.

but for now, you're merely left alone, with only a mantra of words all circling back to dami's words; so many questions left unanswered.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: honestly don't know half of what i wrote + i don't like this as much as i wanted it to come out. this went through multiple revisions with an added fact of me trying to discern why my writing style keeps fluctuating 😭 guys please comment about what you think of this. if this flops, i'm gonna quit writing LMAO. this is a bit more formal than my usual style (re: again & again) because i wanted to capture the regality of the al ghul's family partly told through the perspective of a child.

taglist: @th0rn118, @obsessedwithromance @rogueofbullshit @ch1cky-093, @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd, @confused-they @biiibs01, @ghostdoodlen, @earlqurl, @chericia, @herebyaccident0, @ilovemyhusbandnanami, @mintynilla, @lilyalone, @anonymousdisco, @plsfckmedxddy, @maria-figueiredo, @143637-hrrm, @neerathebrightstar, @jsprien213, @realifezompire, @sammytheotakunerd, @sh4rk-k1d, @confused-they, @peptox, @lillian-morningstar.

[princesssmars]

desert eagle

another rodeo!abby x reader | p.i

seeing the star of the rodeo secretly in the night has been fun, but things start to get tense from miscommunication. but it’s amateur bull night down at the cow belle, and you’ve still got a few tricks up your sleeve.

wc : 2.619

contains : fluff. reader is hard headed. jealousy? fxf smut. strap on sorry to the people sick of it </3

a/n : you thought it was over ahaaaaa. wdym part one was in APRIL i suck at this. why are all of the desert eagle position pictures slightly different its pissing me off.

truly, everything currently going wrong was all abby anderson's fault.

it's a humid saturday night at the cow belle, and you're pouting while nursing a beer as your friends chatter around you. they'd taken you out to your favorite spot to try to brighten your spirits after noticing your sour mood, hoping some alcohol, dancing, and flirting would fix you right up.

but it was hopeless, for a dark cloud seemed to be hanging over your head the whole night. an annoying, sweet-talking, six-foot, blonde braided cloud.

it was established after your first extremely hot and extremely long night together with abby a few weeks ago that you both had an understanding. no strings, no attachments, no labels. you weren't gonna let a big beautiful woman butter you up only to leave you in a ditch, not after the last time. you'd go to the other's house, have rough messy sex, and maybe have some nice conversation, before heading your own way and repeating it the next week. no more and no less.

but god, you should've known it wouldn't last. ever since that first night when her silky smooth drawl convinced you to stay just a bit longer, to sleep in her bed with her shirt on! you might as well have woken up and cooked her breakfast in bed with a 'good morning, honey.'

who could blame you really? ever since you'd set eyes on abby anderson you knew she was something else, a beautiful force of nature that wouldn't budge until she wrecked you so thoroughly. at the time you were as horny as a coyote in may and saw that as just what you needed, a prized golden notch on your belt. a completely different way from what you do now.

right now you were trying to telepathically burn holes into the back of her beautiful head as she flirted with that hussy donna mayfair, an admittedly gorgeous girl with a big personality, big hair, and big...well, y'know. you look down at your chest and slightly straighten your back before roughly shaking your head after realizing this damn woman has you comparing yourself to a mayfair! of all people! the thought only upsets you more and you down the nearest drink to you, ignoring your friend's whine at the loss of her whiskey.

the small and reasonable part of your brain knows you have no right to be upset. after all, it was you who just a week ago insisted to a blushing abby that you truly did want to just keep things casual. you felt bad a little bit, she'd shown up to your hookup flushed and high off of another rodeo win with a tiny bouquet of your favorite flowers, explaining when you asked how she knew that she noticed them on the motif of your favorite pair of figure-hugging jeans. the bastard.

the relaxed but downcast look she wore after your rejection is a stark contrast to how she looks now, pearly whites showing when she throws her head back at some joke donna told, a large hand coming to rest on the redhead's waist. you can see her preening, foot nearly popping up as she swoons over the female goliath giving her all of her attention. it's enough to make you throw up. or maybe it was drinking all that busch light. whatever.

you must not have been very discreet with your glances because suddenly blue eyes are lifting up and focusing on yours, the shock of being caught forcing you still as your finger circles the rim of your next glass. you try to keep normal 'we're two normal people and definitely not recently gone sour fuck buddies' eye contact, but your body betrays you when your eyes flick down to her hand still on donna's waist. when you look at her again the corner of her lip is quirked up, never looking away as she pulls the redhead in closer and whispers something in her ear, the girl visibly going weak in the knees while abby licks her lips-

"well slap my ass and call me sally, come over here hon!" your darling charlize breaks you out of your..whatever that was and picks you up from your stool to drag you over to the event area, a few people drinking while gathered around the brand new bucking machine as one of the bar hands tinkers with the controls.

"what about it char, 'm really not in the mood..."

"oh don't be such a sourpuss, jus look at this!" she gently grips your chin and tilts your head to a nearby wall, a small white poster detailing a month-long mechanical bull contest as soon as the thing was completed, and each winner would get free drinks and $500 cash prize.

"jeez, since when did the belle bring in bucks like that?"

"doesn't matter. in one weeks time you're gonna put on a hot little outfit and win us those free drinks. and hopefully the cash takes your mind off of your situationship."

"oh yeah? and what makes you think I'm gonna be the one to win?"

"honey, ive seen the most hardass women look at you like well-trained pups. you've gotta be the best ride i know.”

so a week later you’re back in the same spot, hair pulled up and donned in your cropped and tied plaid shirt and your cutest pair of daisy dukes as you wrote your name down on the sheet of others trying to win the prize.

your friends are gathered around you, ever the voices of support as they fuss over you and give you words of encouragement. and while you do smile and laugh with them you can’t help from occasionally looking at abby, back with donna as her group hangs around the edge of the bull area.

“y’know i’ve never heard of someone bagging a hot ass woman, rejecting a relationship with said woman, and then pining over and trying to make that same woman jealous.” savannah fixes your hair while judging you, making sure it won’t get in your face so you can see what you’re doing while up there.

“stop questioning me, i’ve already been doing that myself.” your mumble makes the girls laugh before one of the workers comes to tell you that you’re up after the next person. you give them a nod before walking over to the small gate that leads to the bill, right next to-

“hey, looks like our little buckle bunny is gonna ride an actual bull! make sure to give us a nice show, huh bonita?”

you can’t help but smile when manny comes up beside you to throw an arm over your shoulder, nudging your body with his. the rest of his friends are here of course, including she who shall not be named with her new beau at her side.

“you’re gonna ride the new bull? well i hope you know what you’re doing, don’t want you to end up getting hurt now.” donna asks, grasping your hand in hers with a genuinely worried look on her face. damn it, now you were starting to feel bad.

“now don’t you worry, hon. i’ve got quite a bit of experience in riding.” you throw a wink her way before looking at abby next to her, not noticing the flustered look on donna when all you can do is revel in how you caught abby staring at your exposed stomach. before you can try to tease her about it your name is being called up and you're heading into the pit.

you graciously accept one of the workers' help to get you up on the bull, ignoring some of the catcalls that ring out when your shorts ride up an inch or two. you make sure to do everything you've seen others do (and maybe you watched a certain someone's videos to prepare yourself), steadying your dominant hand on the saddle while your free hand is raised above your head.

the experience is fast and hard just like you like it, the bull spinning and bucking so fast its almost enough to make you dizzy. as much as the cheers of fellow patrons make you want to look up and revel in it, you know you need to watch the bulls head to prepare for each time it turns, thighs tightly squeezing its sides. it's only when you hear the timer start to count down from ten that you look at everyone again, blowing a quick kiss to the blonde that's staring you down.

once the machine stops moving you are helped off and guided back to your incredibly loud friends, all happy to hype you up and start planning how much of the expensive high shelf drinks they wanna get. when you're announced as the winner only a few minutes later the night quickly becomes one filled with dancing and laughter.

you wave goodbye to your friends as their truck speeds away from your street, blowing you kisses as they yell for you to have a good night's sleep. you can't help but smile as you place your bag down in your kitchen, ready to wash the sweat from dancing off your body before sleeping through the night. unfortunately, some absolute boar decided now would be a good time to come knocking at your door."

"alright alright, im comin'!" your shouts do nothing to dissuade the steady banging against your door, nearly slipping on your hardwood floors as you rush to undo the locks and see who it is. "i really hope i owe you some money or else i'll"

"or else you'll what?" the sound of abbys voice makes you freeze, the woman resting against the doorway with one hand in her pocket and the other above your head. you need to blink away your surprise at not only her being here but the fact she is now only a few inches from you, close enough that you can smell her signature scent of pine-

"can i come in? or are you gonna keep teasing me like you did at the bar?"

"i did no such thing, you must have me confused with one of your many other flings." you flippantly address her as you turn around back into your home, hearing her quickly trail behind you and lock your door.

"ohh you'd like that, wouldn't you? gives you a reason to be so difficult for no damn reason."

you ignore her words as you head into your kitchen and retrieve yourself a glass from the cabinet, pouring yourself some water and downing it in a few gulps. jesus it's hot, is she hot? she doesn't seem so, minus the fact the sleeves of her shirt are rolled up and straining against her arms.

"no, i was in fact celebrating my win if you didn't notice. although I'm pretty sure you did, it'd be hard to miss my brilliant technique. maybe i can give you a few tips, i watched some of your shows and honestly hon, you're a bit sloppy."

you try to keep your tone cool while she moves closer and closer to you, eventually taking your empty glass and setting it down before placing both of her arms on either side of you, caging you into the counter, and blue eyes darting between yours and your lips while you speak.

"so you've been watchin my videos, huh? i'd invite you to actually come watch me, like I've already done before, but that would require you to stop ignoring me."

"you had donna mayfair to keep you company, i really doubt you noticed i was gone-"

she kisses you to shut you up, and you really wish you could've said you resisted her for long, that you didn't throw your arms around her neck and wrapped your legs around her waist as soon as she set her palms on your ass. you don't have the time to be embarrassed when shes carries you to your bedroom, removes your clothes before she does the same to her own, and reveals the strap she'd been wearing for who knows how long.

"yeah, not so mouthy now, are you?" abby smiles from above you, admiring how fast she's got you fucked out beneath her while you erratically lift your hips up to meet her short and shallow thrusts. the crooks of her elbows are helping to hold your legs in the air, your hands gripping your thighs to help give her easier access as she pounds into you.

"ab's, fuck, please."

"please what? use your words, beautiful."

"please, 'm sorry i won't ignore you again just- just do something, anything."

she puts on a sickly sweet lovestruck smile, and whispers a small 'god, you're lucky you're cute," before starting to fuck you exactly how she knows you like it. it's fast and hard, yes, but there's a hint of something more in the way she stares at you, how you lift your head for a kiss and she gives it to you without a second thought.

your hands start to claw at her waist, gripping the muscle to try to bring her impossibly closer every time her hips meet yours and her strap presses into that spot that makes your eyes damn near cross.

before you know it your orgasm is creeping up fast, unable to say it but of course, abby can tell regardless, how the resistance between your legs steadily increases and how your moans turn into desperate little whimpers.

"c'mon, you can do it. cum for me sweet girl."

all you can do is shake in her arms like a petal on a leaf, moaning and mewling up to the high heavens as abby pushes you through your orgasm, not stopping her thrusts until you weakly push at her arms to signal her to stop.

you fade in and out of consciousness while she takes care of you, the feeling of a rag cleaning your skin and more water being guided to your mouth all seeming to happen in a few seconds. when she finishes you blink your eyes open at her, admiring just how pretty she always seems to look after taking away your ability to walk.

you stare at each other for a moment, her palm coming to fix a few stray hairs on your face before you reach up to grab it and pull her into bed beside you. you pull the covers above the both of you, ignoring her raised eyebrows and know it all smirk.

"well, im not rude enough to send you home after all of that. might as well make yourself comfortable."

she chuckles, reaching over to turn off your bedside lamp before cuddling you from behind, her soft skin like its own blanket against yours.

"whatever you say, bunny."

when you wake up in the morning it's from the gentle rays of the sun peeking through your curtain and into your eyes, the smell of coffee and bacon quickly filling your nostrils when you notice your...partner, isn't in bed with you.

quickly throwing on a robe and padding your way into the kitchen, you can't help the warm feeling that grows inside of you at a shirtless abby pouring two cups of coffee while two plates of a small breakfast are already plated on your table.

you come up behind her and wrap your arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to her shoulder when she slightly jumps at the surprise.

"mmm let me guess, you remember how i like my coffee too?"

"i'll remember whatever you want me to, sweet thing."

and right about now that didnt sound too bad.

[doctorho]

thinking about viktor with a chronically ill reader. you know? we see the vision, right?

it just works.

the thing with chronic pain, illnesses, disabilities, all of that - is that you can't always see them. sometimes you can, sure, you can see the mobility aids and the not-standing-up-for-too-long and the bruising from blood draws and sometimes you can see the compression garments, the pills and inhalers and the i'm fine, i just need a moment-

but most people just don't pay attention to that. or if they do, they don't put the pieces together fast enough to figure out what's really going on under the surface. viktor does, though; he's been there, and most of the time he's way beyond hiding it. or, well, he's way beyond hiding some of it.

walking with a cane was like carrying a neon sign that said yes there is something different here. yes i can't walk the way you can. no it's not going to get better. that last part wasn't directly evident just from him using a cane, sure, but with the way his cane looked, it should've been pretty clear. He had used one practically forever and it had evolved with him, he'd made it as comfortable to use as it could be, had even made it match his uniform.

so yeah. viktor knew what it was like. he'd been the disabled kid forever, even if some of the others were never going to say it out loud. that was just a thing about him, and he knew how hard it could be to navigate something like that in an academic environment. it was hard to admit you couldn't do something, that you had to sit down, that you needed a moment. that sometimes your body was just falling apart for no particular reason and it was just another tuesday.

sometimes it was easier to sit with the pain than take medication in the middle of a meeting, knowing that someone would make a bigger deal out of it than it had to be, even if it was just raising their eyebrows meaningfully. they'd think about you differently afterwards.

he could see you push through it, and he didn't blame you, really, he did that himself, too, but - he didn't want you to hurt yourself. you hadn't been in the lab as long as he had, so he could understand you being a little cautious with how you acted and what you told people, but he didn't want you to feel like you had to put on a show for him. he was, after all, walking around with the equivalent of a light-up sign of i'm disabled, too, and he liked to think of himself as someone who wouldn't come off as judgemental about stuff like that. other stuff, sure, stupid stuff, but not that.

so when he sees you dealing with the telltale signs of being in pain, he conveniently sends jayce and the others to pick up some parts that would take a while to collect and that they wouldn't actually need until the next day. but better prepared, right? what's the harm.

and then he comes to sit next to you and sighs deeply. leans back. relaxes to the best of his abilities. asks if you're alright, and sounds like he already knows the answer.

you sigh too, shift your position, and answer with it's fine. and viktor recognizes the strain in your voice, in your posture, and he knows there's a key difference between this and i'm fine, but he'll take it. it's not what he'd like, but he'll take it.

he leans over to dig around his belongings, and then offers you a bag of candied almonds.

"if you're going to take pain killers, it's better if you eat something first," he says, and you just stare at him. "i assume you haven't taken anything yet. nothing strong enough, at least," he continues, casually, and you take a deep breath and accept the almonds.

he smiles. continues like this is totally normal. "jayce made me start carrying around some food so i could do that. for myself, i mean. but it doesn't hurt to have some snacks around either way, i suppose."

he knows he's skirting around the real topic of the conversation, but he also knows that sometimes people get uncomfortable around his bluntness, and you hadn't exactly told him you were in pain, so he'd understand it if you were a little weirded out. after all, most people didn't notice this stuff. but you haven't run away from him, and you're eating, and then you're digging around your own bag to take your medication, so he'll count this as a win.

thanks, you exhale, handing back the almonds, and he takes a handful of them himself.

"i'm fine, really," you continue, not really looking at him, "it's just hard sometimes."

he nods. it was - even if he didn't know the specifics, he knew that it was true. especially since you had been hiding it from the others. and with something like that, something the others couldn't see, the invisible step to let them see it would grow bigger and bigger with time, when they expected you to be able to do everything they did without a second thought.

he also knows you didn't mean fine in the dictionary definition sense of the word, but more in the this is normal and you don't need to worry -sense. and that's fine. he was used to functioning on different parameters than most people, so this version of fine was good enough.

my body just isn't always very reliable, you explain with a sigh, and that he knows better than well.

he hmms in answer and nods. he knows.

you exhale a small laugh at that.

and he's glad you're relaxing, wants you to be as comfortable here as possible.

"these people are alright," he says casually, "as far as healthy people go."

viktor smiles a little.

another win for him.

and then he sits with you, talking and not talking and enjoying the quiet comfort if it all. and then he makes up some excuse so you don't have to keep working yet. he was well aware what it was like trying to work through the pain, waiting for the medication to kick in, and he wouldn't exactly recommend it. besides, as a rule, you were more likely to make mistakes if you were thinking through a layer of pain, and that was just plain bad planning. it made much more sense to just take a break and continue when you felt better. in fact, he was in dire need of a caramel latte and a pastry right now, do you want anything?

and after that it just... sort of falls into place. you're more relaxed around him. and the others, too, but he's the only one that really gets it. doesn’t make a whole thing out of it when you need to sit down for a moment or take a break while your pain killers kick in. he's just there.

he knows what it's like, and that feels like an invisble curtain lifted from between you and him, and it's just easy. you don't have to pretend you're doing better than you actually are and he doesn’t hide it when he's in pain, either.

most people don't see it, but there's a mutual understanding there; yeah, sometimes life sucks and sometimes you're in pain and no it's not fair that sometimes your body is falling apart and life just keeps going. you can't do all the things you want to do but you still have to show up for the other life-stuff and if you took a day off every time you felt bad you would never get anything done and it just never stops.

but sometimes there's someone who'll sit through it with you without judgement. offer a warm drink and a snack and some understanding.

[keeksandgigz]

my guy

eddie munson x fem!reader

Eddie being your personal handyman and stupidly in love.

cw: 2k words. no warnings just two kids being absolutely smitten for each other. tooth rotting fluff. teeny allusion to smut. Eddie being a flustered mess bless him. 18+ mdni

AN: this is literally the most low stakes thing i've ever written i just started cheesing at the idea of eddie cheesing at being called your guy

The sputtering of the washing machine startles you.

Huffing, you put your book down on the couch, rising from the depth of the cushions in which you had settled yourself into after finishing your chores and go assess the issue.

"Shit," the floor is wet and you shudder at the feeling of the cold soapy water getting into the bottoms of your socks as you slowly make your way to the washing machine to unplug it.

You try your best to dry the floor, wincing at the feeling of wet socks on the linoleum floor, cursing under your breath at the cold feel of the fabric against your skin.

Despite the floor being dry, your washing machine was broken, and you couldn't afford to buy a new one. Fortunately, your neighbor, Eddie had been your own personal handyman ever since you mentioned in passing that your sink was leaking a bit after moving into your place a couple months ago. The day after he was at your door, toolbox in hand. Your sink was fixed in less than a couple hours.

You knock at his front door, three precise, well timed knocks. Your mind cannot help but start counting just to see how long it will take him to open his door.

One, two, three, four, five, si--

The rattling of the door handle distracts you from your counting. Eddie's eyes are wide as they stare at you. His hair is tied in a low bun and he's fidgeting with a guitar pick in his hand. He must have been playing.

He's really quiet for a second, then clears his throat. "Oh, um. Hey, what's up?"

"Hey, nothing much? just wondering if you're busy right now" your tone always softens up with him around.

He looks around his apartment, almost as if he needed to remember if there was anything he should've been doing.

"Nope, don't think so. Why?" He leans against his doorframe, and he's cute in the way his pitch perks up, his smile expands just a bit to let a few crinkles form around his eyes.

"Well um... my washing machine broke and I can't afford to buy another one. I have a really important interview tomorrow morning and I need a clean dress shirt to wear. I thought I could get my guy to take a look at it and assess the damage?" you lightly punch your fist across his chest and he blushes a bit. You can tell by the way he starts blinking a bit faster that he's flustered.

"Your- your guy?" he stutters, almost as if he heard nothing else aside from that.

"Yeah, silly. My guy, like, my handyman" you smile at him, and if someone could get even more nervous, you're sure that Eddie just did, because he lets out a breathy laugh.

"Right. Your handyman guy, of course" and he shakes his head, smiling to himself a bit.

"So... can you do it?" you ask, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, no of course, sweetheart. Gimme a couple minutes and I'll be right over to you" he says smiling.

You head back to your apartment, leaving the door open for him to follow you with his toolbox, and Eddie feels like he’s lost every sense of reason when he enters and becomes surrounded by your scent.

The fabric softener you use has taken over every corner of your house, but he’s not complaining. Taking one last sniff for courage, he steps into the kitchen, where you’re sitting at, waiting for him.

“Alright, can I take a look at your washing machine?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Yeah, it’s right this way” you lead him to the laundry room, and Eddie’s suffocating. You’re everywhere.

He kneels in front of the machine and opens its door.

"What's this interview for anyway if it's got you actin' so nervous?" He says from inside the washing machine. He's fidgeting with the rubber at the opening, the hose.

"It's for this job at the school. I applied to teach at the middle school, but I'm not sure if they'll give it to me" you say, panic settling in. He's taking too long, you're done for. No clean shirt, no job.

"Nah, sweetheart, there's no reason why they shouldn't. You're incredibly smart, from all the books I've seen you read, your apartment is all books, you nerd" he starts laughing, and then stops.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to call you a nerd." He takes his head out of the washing machine. "I just- I know you're gonna do great. And if you don't maybe you can become my apprentice, would you mind passing me my flashlight?" he gives you a half smile.

Reaching for his toolbox you pass it to him.

"See? You're already perfect for the job, you're hired" he says, making you laugh. He smiles proudly to himself, and he's happy that you can't see him from inside the washing machine, because he's sure he's bursting with joy at the sound of your laughter.

"Thanks, Ed. I'll consider it." you say, and immediately after you hear a oh shit! coming from inside the machine. Concern washes over your face.

"Ed? What's wrong?" you say, as you carefully step closer towards him.

“I know what the problem is." He takes his head out again The rubber thingy that helps you close the thingy is broken” he says, like you understood what he meant.

“For a handyman you sure have your way with words” you laugh, and he doesn’t even care that he’s made a fool of himself by forgetting what the rubber gasket was called. Because he’s made you laugh.

"So how do I get this rubber thingy fixed, mr handyman?" you ask, voice still amused at how flustered he is.

"Well, I'd need to go down the hardware store and get a replacement, but it's 8PM, so I can't do anything about it now, sweetheart. Sorry" he says, and it breaks his heart to have to say no to you.

"Oh, okay." your voice sounds sad, it hurts him. "Thanks anyway, Eddie. I'll stop by the hardware store tomorrow morning before my interview if you wanna stop by in the afternoon and finish this?"

He thinks about it, about the interview. About how much you said you want the job.

"Wait, I have an idea. What if you wash your clothes in my washing machine for tonight? So you can have your shirt ready for your interview, then tomorrow I can go and get the gaskets to fix it. It's called a gasket, not rubber thingy" he says, playing with his hair.

"Ed it's fine, I can go get it" you say, trying not to blush at how gentle and kind he is "I'll take you up on your offer of using your machine, though. Thanks, Ed. You're too nice" you say, reaching for the basket of wet clothes on top of the dishwasher.

"Anytime, sweetheart. Y'know I take good care of my clientele" he says, smug smile on his lips. You giggle and fake a gasp.

"Are you cheating on me? Are you being someone else's guy?!" he laughs and goes along with it.

"Well, Mrs. Davis did ask me to fix her bathtub, after learning from someone that I fixed their sink" he said, a fake accusatory stare at you.

"You should get paid for this, Ed. You've already fixed my sink, my door hinges, helped me change my lock and now my washing machine. Soon the whole complex is gonna ask you to do their maintenance" you laugh.

"I do it out of the kindness of my heart" he says, taking a dramatic bow , then rises and leans against the washing machine. "Really, though, I don't mind doing it. I enjoy being helpful. I don't want your money, sweetheart"

"No, Eddie, I insist. I need to pay you, especially after you said you're getting the rubber thingy for me, what was it called again? A gusset?"

"Gasket" he says smiling, pointing a cheeky finger at you. Then the air becomes a bit tense, he stiffens up. You see him takes a deep breath, he's suddenly nervous which puts you on edge. Did you say something wrong? Then he speaks up again. "Tell you what, as a payment for my services, I pick you up Friday night at 7 and we have dinner. What do you say?"

Shit. You would not have pegged him for the type to be that smooth, but he had you. He liked you and he was sweet to you and he wanted to take you out to dinner. It helped that he was cute. There was no hesitation when you nodded your head yes.

"I say that's a great idea, Ed. I'll let you know how the interview goes. Should we go to your apartment?" you say. You notice the quizzical, borderline alarmed, look on his face.

"So I can wash my stuff, I mean" an awkward laugh escapes you as he motions for you to lead the way.

His apartment is the same layout as yours, but rather than books, his walls are filled with painted figurines, guitars, notebooks and DnD game sets. A true nerdy den.

"Um, the washing machine is down the hall. We have the same one, let me know if you need anything, okay?" he says, heading over to the couch, setting his toolbox down and picking up his guitar.

His laundry detergent is strong. The thought of this load of washing smelling like him makes your head spin.

After you've started the load, you head out of the laundry room and head over to the couch, where Eddie is. You swear his eyes glint a little when he sees you.

"Hey mr. handyman." you say, plopping down next to him "Keep playing, I'm just gonna watch you." You smile at him.

His face is concentrated, tongue darting out of his lips every once in a while. Cute, you think, a silly quirk that makes your mind travel to places that it should not even dare to go, you haven't even had your first date yet. God, you wanna kiss him.

He plays some aggressive guitar chords, one after the other, music sheets scattered on his knee, balancing precariously as he taps the rhythm with his head, his hair falling out of its confinements with each bob of his head.

"I hear you play sometimes." You interrupt. He raises his head, his hair has all fallen out of the bun and lays on his shoulders.

"What?" he says weakly.

"Sometimes, in the afternoon, because you're so respectful, I hear you play. And I- I just stop whatever I'm doing and listen to you and- and it's so cool. Your playing is so cool" you stop your ramble, because now he's staring at you and he's making you nervous. He's closer, and closer, and closer. And he's kissing you.

His lips are soft, albeit a bit too wet from all the times he's licked his lips to focus. His hand is on your cheek and it's big and warm and his breath is on you and you just melt into him. Soft kisses, quick kisses.

After what feels like hours, your mouth is open and you're reaching for his shirt, but he stops you, a puzzled look on your face. "Let's save this for another time, sweetheart." He says, and you can tell he's struggling to say no to you "I wanna take my time with you. Maybe after our date?" he gives you a sly smile and you think you have melted into the cushions.

"Can we cuddle, then?" you say shyly and he opens his arms for you to fall in, you take a deep breath. He's warm and smells nice.

"For a handyman you kiss really well" you say, laughing a bit. He jerks his head and quirks an eyebrow.

"How many handymen have you kissed?" his tone is dramatic and you know he's joking.

"None that I am aware of, but y'know, it could be a side job" You giggle.

"I thought I was your guy!" He says with a whine, and he makes you laugh like no man has ever made you laugh before.

“Maybe you can be my guy for real then” you say, smiling, finally holding eye contact with him.

“Yeah, I can be your guy, sweetheart.”

[thriftedtchotchkes]

waiting to spill

pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

summary: mike never thought your week-long trip home would lead to the discovery of a costly new craving

warnings: 18+ MDNI, established relationship, breeding kink, smut, desperate!mike, unprotected piv, creampie, riding, fingering, blue balls, mentions of pregnancy, cum play

word count: 3.9k

(based on this request)

Mike's praying the call goes through this time because if it doesn't, he might just lose his mind. You were supposed to land 20 minutes ago, but it's already half past 4 and your phone's still off.

Will it show how many missed calls you have? God, he hopes not. He's been redialing for the better part of an hour, hoping you landed early, but luck clearly isn't on his side. Every time it goes to voicemail, your voice taunts him. Just another reminder that you're not here—unreachable and untouchable.

Shitty fucking airline. He knew you should've taken an earlier flight, but he didn't want to be that guy. The one who tells you what to do and when, and makes decisions for his own benefit. He's a better guy than that, a better boyfriend than that, it's just—fuck, what is taking so long? 

One more time. He'll try you one more time, and if it doesn't connect, he'll go sit on the couch and distract himself until you call him. He's already waited this long. He can suck it up a little longer. Probably.

He hits redial for the umpteenth time, his forehead thunking against the wall next to the landline, and then something miraculous happens. It rings.

Once, twice, and then you pick up. He doesn't wait for you to answer. Any patience he had left flew out the window hours ago and he doesn't care if you know it.

"Babe?"

You laugh softly on the other end, and it tugs at his heart...and his dick. Seatbelts click open in the background, and sounds of movement and chatter filter through the speaker.

"Hey, you. I actually just landed. I'll call you back once I get through customs, okay?" you reply, bright as ever. 

It sets him off worse than he expected. You're so much more potent in real-time than on voicemail, and it's fucking with his sense of urgency. He doesn't want to rush you, but he needs you. So badly.

"W-wait. Can you come over? After you're done with the airport stuff, I mean," he manages to get out, interjecting cautiously before you can hang up.

"I was gonna stop home to drop off my bags and take a quick shower, but I can come over after that," you reply distractedly, likely dealing with overhead bins and other passengers trying to deplane. 

He shakes his head, gripping the phone a little too tightly as he bites back a frustrated whine. That'll take too long. The airport's about an hour's ride from your apartment, and by the time you're done showering—no. No, just come to him. It's a shorter ride to his house, anyway.

"Just—you can do all of that here. Stay over and I'll drive you back to your place in the morning. Please?" he asks, desperation beginning to bleed into his voice. 

It pulls your attention back to him almost immediately, and he hates how good that feels.

"Is everything okay? Did something happen?" you counter, misreading his plea as an emergency. 

Your phone keeps shifting like it's tucked against your shoulder, and now it sounds like you're moving faster, hurrying like he wants you to, but for the wrong reasons. 

"Everything's fine, I just need to see you," he says, willing you to understand. "Babe, I really need to see you."

He's too ashamed to spell it out. What would he even say? If he doesn't cum inside you soon, he thinks he might die? He's horny, not pathetic.

"Mike, that doesn't sound fine...," you sigh on the other end, your quickening footsteps audible through the receiver. 

"Please."

You pause for a second, and his heart leaps into his throat. Don't say no. Please, don't say no.

"Gimme an hour, okay? I'll catch a cab to your place as soon as I can," you finally agree.

He breathes out a heavy sigh of relief, but it's louder than he realizes and you clock it on the spot.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, all good. I'm just glad you're back. Feels like it's been forever," he mumbles, somehow sated and yet anticipating your arrival more than ever. 

He shifts anxiously from one foot to the other, wincing at the unexpected friction against the growing problem between his legs. The atmosphere around you changes and your responding laugh blends into the bustle of casual conversations and overhead announcements in your terminal. 

"Can't survive one week without me, huh? I guess I'm bringing you and Abby along next time I visit my parents," you joke, but it's getting harder to make out what you're saying. "Look, I'm almost at customs. I'll see you soon, I promise."

The call ends, and he's left with the loneliness of a dial tone and an empty house. He hangs up and plops down on the couch, clutching the TV remote like a lifeline while he desperately tries to ignore the painful tent in his boxers.

An hour. He can handle one more hour.

He can't handle one more hour. It's been 45 minutes and he feels like he's about to burst. The worst part? It's his own damn fault. 

He's the asshole who made the conscious decision not to jerk off the entire time you were gone, but he can't bring himself to regret it. He had his reasons. In about 15 minutes, it'll all be worth it.

Maybe less. 

There's a knock at the door, and he's up and off the couch so fast, he's surprised he doesn't have whiplash. He wrenches it open to find you on the other side, a little stunned by the abrupt greeting, but worth every second of blue balls he put himself through.

"Hey," he breathes out, winded by his mad dash and the relief of you finally being here. 

"Hey, yourself," you smile wryly. Your eyes drop to where he's not even remotely trying to hide his raging boner. "Ah-ha, so that's—"

But that's all you manage to say before he drags you into the house and slams your back against the door, shutting out your luggage and the cab driver still idling in the driveway. His lips crash into yours and you taste so good, it's dizzying. 

Remnants of Sprite and spearmint gum linger on your tongue as it meets his, and he groans, wondering how he went an entire week without this. All that time, deprived of your addictive touch and perfect tits while he tortured himself, waiting for you to come back to him.

He can't decide where to put his hands first, roaming and squeezing from your waist, up your shirt—which he's just realizing is his—to splay across your ribcage. Pressing you harder into the door, he separates from your lips to mouth at the underside of your jaw, mumbling his appreciation between each harsh bruise he sucks into your skin.

"Fuck, I missed you," he pants, shamelessly grinding into your hip for relief. He wants you to feel how hard you're making him, so you'll understand all those missed calls.

"Yeah? I can tell," you laugh breathily, running your hands up his chest, pushing his shirt up as you go. 

Your thumbs brush against his bare skin, sending a heady jolt straight to his cock, and suddenly none of this is moving fast enough. His hands drop to your ass, roughly tugging your hips into his, and you gasp in unison at the friction. Together, you fall into a frantic rhythm, rutting into each other like a pair of horny teenagers.

"Shit, Mike...," you moan his name, and he feels like he's dreaming. He has to be because nothing else in his waking world has ever felt this good.

Contrary to the rest of his body, he kisses you again slowly, savoring every noise he's coaxing from you and devouring them like a man starved. Your fingers thread through his hair, pulling him closer, and he swears he's never letting you leave this house again. 

If by some miracle he does, he's going to make sure you're pumped so full of him, you'll be leaking him the entire time you're gone, unable to think about anything else. And when you come back, he'll do it all over again.

Damnit, he needs you in his bed, now.

He backs away from the door with you still in his arms, leading you further into the house down a path you know by heart. Briefly, he separates from your lips to lift your shirt up and over your head, then discards his own before tugging down the cups of your bra to latch onto a nipple.

You hiss at the contact, trembling as he teases it with his teeth, and immediately reach behind you to unclasp the offending piece of fabric. It drops soundlessly to the floor along with your jeans, underwear, and finally his boxers. Nipping sharply at the sensitive skin one last time, he pulls away to admire you, trailing his fingers down your arms until your hands are in his.

You're fucking beautiful. Your lips are kiss-swollen and glossy, begging to be kissed again, and your thighs are...wet, fucking hell. Fuck, he missed you. His mouth starts to water at the thought of licking into you, fucking you with his tongue while your thighs quake on either side of his head, but the painful throbbing between his legs is starting to overwhelm him.

He's positive, now, that if he's not inside you soon, he'll actually die. He's not just horny, anymore. It's so far beyond that.

Four more agonizing steps backward and he's finally passing the threshold into his room, so close to being on his back with you bouncing on top of him—except he doesn't make it that far. 

The door shuts behind you, and then you're on your knees, wrapping those perfect fingers around his dick and guiding him between your lips. He panics. There's no way he's going to last if you try to blow him right now.

Tenderly, you lick a stray bead of precum off the tip, and his balls immediately draw up so tight, he has to slide your hand down to the base and squeeze to keep from cumming on the spot. He shakes his head, his eyebrows furrowing as he inhales sharply through his nose.

"Babe, I can't...," he grits out, struggling to find the words to explain himself. "I'll cum too fast, you can't."

You grin, leaning forward to press your lips against his white-knuckled fist.

"That's sort of the whole point, isn't it?" you tease, trailing back to his cock, seconds away from giving him the most intense orgasm of his life.

"I need to fuck you," he blurts out. It's short and to the point, but there's no use in pretending he doesn't. At this point, he'll be lucky if he doesn't explode the second he's inside you. "I need to fuck you so bad right now, I feel like I'm going crazy."

You pause to look up at him, your eyes roving over his face, lingering on his angrily ticking jaw. You get it, now.

"Hey, it's okay—you're okay," you murmur, leaning forward to kiss away another drop of precum. He chokes back a groan and reflexively jerks away, and you take the hint to release your grip. "Okay, fuck me. Show me how much you missed me."

But you don't have any idea what you're asking for, do you? He missed you so much. There's so much catching up to do, and he has so little patience left.

He doesn't waste any more time. With every ounce of self-control he's got left, he drags you to your feet and towards the bed, trying his best not to manhandle you up the mattress and onto his lap. He fails epically. The second he's flat on his back with you grinding down on him, his patience becomes a thing of the past.

"You ready for me? Because I'm not gonna be able to stop, and I need you to feel good," he's starting to babble, but he has a feeling nothing he says from now on will make any sense, and he needs you to want it as much as he does.

His hands slide up your thighs to your waist, and when he tugs you closer to notch at your entrance, he can feel you clenching wetly around him.

"Shit—," he breathes out, his biceps tensing as he lifts you and lines himself up. He pushes in just enough for you to stretch around the tip, and you steady yourself on his chest, your palms searingly hot on his skin as you squeeze him a little harder.

"Let me make you feel good," he says again, even though you're already letting him, already yielding to his steady push and pull. Every inch he gives you feels like taking a shot of tequila, and it's making his head spin. If he could hear himself anymore, he'd realize he sounds wasted.

"Let me fill you up, please," he begs, rolling his hips up to lengthen his thrusts. They’re so much easier now that you’re dribbling down him—so much wetter—but you're so damn tight, he has to force himself to look away from where you're joined and gripping the hell out of him. "You know, I-I waited for you—waited to cum, I didn't cum at all."

"Mike...fuck. That's good. That's so good, baby," you tell him shakily. "Give it to me. Nice and deep, you deserve it."

He keens at the praise—he couldn't have stopped himself if he'd tried—and your nails bite into his skin in response, nose scrunching adorably as you gush around him. He knew you'd like that. He knew you'd want it. 

Look at his girl, so pretty on top of him, just waiting for him to bust inside you. Fleetingly, he wonders if you're still on birth control. Possessively, he doesn't care. Rationally, he knows he can't afford to knock you up, but shit—right now, he really fucking wants to. He imagines you in the same position you're in, horny and round with his baby, and suddenly he's never wanted anything so badly in his life.

He doesn't stop to think about whether or not he should. He doesn't stop at all, just like he warned you, not even when he's buried to the hilt and you're both struggling to adjust. 

He just buries himself in you again and again and again until the sound of your skin colliding with his becomes a wet thock-thock-thock that bounces off the walls of his bedroom. The springs beneath him squeak dangerously as he pushes his bedframe to its absolute limits, but he can’t hear any of that, either.

His senses are in overdrive, and all he can focus on is how you feel around him. And he’s not nearly as deep as he needs to be. Rougher than he means to, he grabs your ass with both hands and starts to force you up and down his cock, gripping hard enough to bruise. He’ll hate how much he likes the idea of that later. 

"S-so fucking pretty...gonna make me cum so hard. So much. Need you to take all of it," he pants with the exertion of lifting and dropping your full weight onto himself.

He can feel himself slamming into your cervix and desperately tries to think about anything else but emptying right into it, but the sight of you taking him like you were made for it makes it ten times worse.

Just looking at you makes him want to cum—your tits bouncing as you ride him, your pussy creaming down his cock and balls, and seeping into his sheets. Those pouty lips of yours moaning around pleas of harder and right there and don't stop, I'm cumming.

"Baby...babe—," your shattered voice cuts through the fog, and then he feels it. "M'cumming. I'm...Mike, keep going there, there. Don't stop, please don't stop."

Fucking hell, you're really cumming. Tight and wet, and clamping down on him like a vice. Somehow, he always forgets it's like this with you. That you cum this hard for him, that he's able to make you cum this hard for him. For a second, he feels overwhelmingly grateful. Then, he's planting his feet on the bed and fucking you so hard, you stop moaning and start screaming.

It's there. It's right there, so close he can feel it building everywhere. Sweat trickles down his temples, matting his curls to his forehead, and you brush them away, one hand braced on the mattress next to his head and the other buried in his hair as you ride out your high.  

His balls draw up so tight, it's painful, and he thinks he might start yelling too, but he's too focused on the chase. He's too busy watching, dumbfounded by the perfect body coming apart on top of him. 

The girl he waited for. 

He tries to tell you. He tries to open his mouth and tell you that you’re everything he thought he’d never have, and that he wants to keep you forever. That he wants to be part of you, that being inside you is one of the rare places he’s ever felt wanted. But that’s not what comes out. 

He’s too far gone now, and all he can manage is an incomprehensible stream of moans and sighs as he forces you flush against his pelvis, grinding into you as deep as he can reach. His eyes struggle not to close, nearly crossing as that familiar heat permeates his limbs and pools at the base of his cock. But it’s so much more intense than he can ever remember it being.

He lifts his gaze to your lips to find them moving, repeatedly forming a single word he can barely make out. But by the time he figures it out, he’s already giving you what you asked for. 

Please. You’re saying please. He repeats it back, begging you to take it, thanking you for letting him have this.

His orgasm rocks him. As it peaks, he feels numb like he’s suspended in time, and then it slams into him so hard, he folds in on himself. He buries his face in your tits, his breath hitching sharply in time with the visible throbbing of his cock, and he’s immediately flooded with relief. But it won’t fucking stop. It lasts so much longer than either of you expect it to, pulse after endless pulse, and he holds you in place through it all.

When it finally subsides and sensitivity sets in, your nails scratching lightly across his back are what bring him back to the present. He lifts his head from where it's still pillowed on your tits, and you lean down to kiss his forehead.

Maybe he’s imagining it, or maybe he’s just been dreaming this entire time, but he swears you’re glowing. The final rays of late summer sun illuminate your dewy skin and soft curves, and as you move lower to kiss his lips, he unconsciously rests a hand over your stomach. It feels right—but only briefly. His head starts to clear the longer he licks into your mouth, and when you part, reality finally hits.

"Shit, I think I just got you pregnant," he breathes out, sliding his hand off your stomach to your waist before collapsing onto the mattress. "Shit."

He looks up at you in concern, his mind racing a mile a minute. What did he just do? He can’t—you can't get pregnant. Not with Abby, and your jobs, and his shitty finances. It just isn't an option. 

And yet you’re still perched on top of him, snug around his softening dick, and he can’t bring himself to pull out. You don’t even seem remotely worried.

You're actually smiling. No, you're laughing, and he's still panicking and confused as hell. It gets infinitely worse when you accidentally push him out and his gut reaction is to plug you back up with his fingers, keeping his release from leaking out. This is so fucked up. He’s so fucked up.

"I mean—were you trying to?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "Kinda seems like it."

Your eyes drop between your legs to where his hand is cupping your heat, irrefutable proof that you’re not wrong. So, why doesn’t that bother you? 

"Babe, breathe," you smile softly, brushing a few stray hairs from his face. "I'm like, 98.8 percent positive you can't knock me up. Give or take, but we can check the box if it'll make you feel better."

It actually might, but the last thing he's going to do is admit it. He can't believe he didn't double-check something like that—but then again, he feels like he's been in a fugue state for hours, if not the entire week you were gone.

"You're still on birth control?" he asks cautiously, almost afraid to get his hopes up. He takes a deep breath like you told him to and it helps ease some of his lingering panic. Not all of it, but at least he's starting to think rationally and not with his dick.

"Mike. There isn't a single condom in this entire house. Yes, I'm on birth control," you laugh again, and even just the sound of it is soothing. It helps, too.

"And it definitely works? Because that was...a lot," he mumbles. He already knows he sounds like a total idiot, but he has to be sure. There's still a week's worth of his release plugged up inside you, and as much as it turns him on, he needs to know if he has to run out to the pharmacy or if he's free to do it again. And again.

"Have you ever fucked me with a condom on?" you counter. He scoffs at the question, and you clench around his fingers in retaliation.

"Of course, I have. Maybe not in a while, but early on, for sure," he replies confidently, even though he's not confident in his answer at all. Sure, he can't give you a specific example, but that doesn't mean it never happened.

"You literally came inside me the day we met," you deadpan. 

His cock stirs at the memory, hardening distractingly against your inner thigh. That, he definitely remembers. He's pretty sure that's the night he fell in love with you, but he's hard-pressed to admit that, either.

"There's no way."

"And every time since then," you continue, looking way too amused at his misfortune. Can't get anything past you, can he?

Okay, so maybe it wasn't just your trip that triggered what happened tonight. Maybe it's always been a thing. His thing. You just look so goddamn good—filled with it, covered in it. Shit, he really shouldn't be hard already.

"Babe, come on. I do...it other places, too,” he reasons, sliding his hand up to tweak a nipple. But it becomes a moot point the second your breath hitches. So much for rational thinking. “I just—"

"You just really like cumming inside me," you finish for him, taking his cock in your hand and stroking him until he's as desperate as he was earlier.

He pulls his fingers free from your pussy and tries not to lament the immediate rush of cum that leaks out. It's okay. He's got plenty more to give you.

"Yeah, I really do."

thanks for reading!

(and so much love to @joelsgreys, @tinycozycomfort & @psychedelic-ink for your help & support, and for listening to me go on and on about this man <3)

[madforhoran]

I'm gonna go off (cuz I can) as I wanna clear this up once and for all, hopefully. This post has been inspired by couple of my mutuals who are also trauma survivors.

These takes are still circulating:

Astarion cannot consent to anything because trauma & he cannot say No.

Astarion is forcing himself to have sex and the cemetery.

To start this all off, Neil is a god-tier voice actor and he's demonstrating perfectly well when Astarion is being honest or playful.

Instances where Astarion says No directly / implies it / expresses his disagreement because his boundaries are about to be or were crossed:

-> says No to Araj

-> says No to Tav (he tells Tav in-between the lines 'let's put a pause on sex' and if Tav misreads it and crosses his boundaries, breakup follows = "I didn't know how to say no, but I do now")

-> he refuses to take the astral tadpole

-> he doesn't wanna participate in an orgy when you take him to the brothel before his personal quest resolution

-> he's ready to rip a new one when Tav says his siblings should've kidnapped him

-> he doesn't wanna kiss Tav or continue the romantic relationship if they turn full squid

It is a player’s problem where they force or intimidate him into saying yes.

Instances when Astarion is being playful and lovey because he loves Tav:

-> how can I say No? (when it's just a stupid love test at the circus that doesn't mean anything)

-> how could I say No? (when Tav asks for a kiss, he's being a tease)

There is a clear tonal difference between these No's and situations above.

At the cemetery, he gives us the big beautiful speech where he finally answers "what do you want?" with genuine "You, I want you." and goes on how Tav cared, was patient, trusted him. How safe and seen he feels.

"I love you, I love this, and I want it all."

Now the big sentence which for whatever reason gets twisted that he's forcing himself to have sex & hasn't given consent. You've heard him say all of those beautiful words previously, in Neil's honest genuine tone. Astarion is being genuine and honest when he drops the high pitch.

"If a night of passion is on offer, I could be persuaded."

The man has poured his entire heart out there and is telling Tav [ONLY SLIGHTLY HORNY, NEIL] that he's ready to have sex. He's saying "if YOU are offering, then I'm up for this, to get down and dirty right here on top of my grave". If you tell him instead that you're not ready or you won't do it, he's taken aback and disappointed.

In the spawn!ending Astarion completes the arc of "what do you want?"

"What do any of us want?"

"I'm not sure, it's been so long since I got to decide what I wanted."

"You, I want you."

Astarion has trauma but he is a character with trauma, not trauma walking on two legs. You as a player are actively guiding him through it and when he gets it and asserts his boundaries you cannot just backtrack and say, wait a second you have trauma, you're not allowed to step out of your trauma bubble ever and you're not capable of consent.

It's like saying SA victims in real life are never going to be able to consent to sex (or anything for that matter) or ever move on in their lives from what happened to them.

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

Ok ok. I'm back from the dead, And with another headcannon! following my last music related ask

What if after the characters hear our music they start subconsciously humming, or even singing it? After all the creator never has their computer volume on... exept this time we do! And we hear venti, or Barbara, or another character singing our favorite song A LOT. So much so that instead of the usual voices it's all song references and lyrics... I imagine it going something like this:

(venti dies) "don't worry... I'm never going to let you down.."

OR

(Barbara's afk) "la- La- LA- ehem, I'm working late because I'm a singer~"

Well a long night of trying to find out if it was an event mihoyo planned or something else is surely waiting right?

- 🦇

OMG HI 🦇 ANON HRUUUU

Dwdw, Ghost Rebel's been dead as well—you have not been the only one, rest assured 🥲

For this request, I won't be really focusing much on what music the Reader listens to (entirely up to you imo), so apologies if this affects your reading experience!

(The Request 🦇 Anon Mentioned)

Ayo, They Know My MUSIC ✨😎

(Warning: Might be OOC!)

Who would've thought that all that singing pays off—now, all musicians and bards of Teyvat are reciting Their Almighty Grace's ballads like they're some holy, ancient harmonies (to them, it probably is—somehow—)

Let's see what our favorite ones have been up to! :D

Venti

With the amount of times you vibed to your songs, Venti's picked them up by listening through the wind. You can 100% assume that he is vibing to it, no matter what time or moment.

People thought he was singing his own ballads when he was humming your songs, when, in fact, he's listening to you jamming out in the distance.

So imagine your shock when you hear Venti sing your song. It was as shocking as Venti without his wine.

"Hehe~ Their Grace looks so flabbergasted!" Venti in the bg just cheering over the fact he made you shocked at his impression of your song!

Bro has zero regrets for breaking the Fourth Wall.

Barbara

Girlie is singing her heart out in the Church of Favonius, and everyone's there for it. 100% she has become the true Idol of Mondstadt.

Super excited and nervous at the same time when you put her in your party team (for whatever reason, only you will know), because this is a chance to show off her practice. She wants to impress you with the song she's heard you sing and hum to countless of times!

So the moment she let it slip through her idle animation, imagine her embarrassment as you flip out, questioning your life choices and your sleep deprivation

"S-Surely, I didn't scare Their Almighty Grace all too badly...?" Barbara's twiddling her fingers, contemplating if she should've done that in the first place, only to be reassured when the other nuns of the church mention that you were screaming how good it was (Ex. "HELLO???? BARBARA???? THAT WAS SO GOOD HELLO??? VOICE ACTOR BE POPPING OFF MAYBE??? THIS GLITCH IS AWESOME!")

Yes, she's doing this again. Add her back to her team. Now. :)

Xinyan

Oh, she is going to rock'n'roll hard after this. She is definitely going to make a rock cover of your song and play it all through Liyue!

Gurl's on her merry way, practicing with her guitar and singing loud and proud! Yunjin be cheering her on in the background as she masters that small snippet of your favorite song >:D

And when it's her time to shine? When you finally give her the chance to perform? Sure, she's nervous—she's only got one shot, and who knows when the next one will come—but she's gonna rock this song with everything she's got, heart, soul, and mind!

The moment you see it happening, Xinyan's a little too into it to care of your reaction at first, pretty much having a blast at the lyrics and overall music composition.

But after? "Whoo, I sure hope Their Grace liked it...Maybe I should've taken in how they were reacting instead of going all out, hehe..." Her legs are kind of shaking from her nerves, but she swears she's fine!

Upon seeing how the citizens of Liyue Harbor are acting though, and with the amount of positive comments her friends kept giving her, Xinyan is calling her performance an absolute success!

She is definitely doing this again—10/10!

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: THIS TOOK TOO LONG TO MAKE I AM SO SORRY UGHHHH. I hate it when I say I'd be active and then the next thing I know, I'm being bombarded with irl problems >:(

Anyways! A few updates as I'm writing this: I am no longer taking Sagau Genshin requests for now (even if I might still be writing for a few—there's some waiting in my inbox that I gotta get to), as I need a break to recharge my batteries. However: HSR and Wuthering Waves are free and up for requests, so don't be shy to shoot your shots there!

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[thebluester2020]

[TWST] "Confessions Through A Red Haze"

Summary: The perfect way to spend a four-day weekend? Go to a cabin and get into...unforeseen "troubles" with a prince of course!

Warning(s): Unknowingly taking aphrodisiacs (Both Yuu + Leona),

Side note(s): This is for @kimdourden for my follower potion event! <33. Thank you for giving me this juicy idea 👁️ ✨ (Now I have to proceed to see if I can chuck out a short comic based on this idea—)

I hope this is close to what you wanted! (Sorry to leave off on a cliff-hanger T0T. But hey, I like this idea so much that I think Ill just create a longer fic based off this tbh)

"Go on a vacation with me."

You didn't expect this would be how you spend your four-day weekend.

When Night Raven College decided to announce that the student population would be receiving a four-day weekend due to repairs and additions to the classrooms. You had made mental notes and plans as to what you wanted to do and accomplish during that timeframe! The most notable part of those plans? You wanted to spend some time alone.

It had been three months since you had arrived to this strange new world and already so many things had been happening! You could barely keep up, attempting to stay focused without subsequently losing your mind was a hard set of knives to try and juggle with. You thought that this vacation would have done you some good until...Leona Kingscholar, the Housewarden of SavannaClaw and the local arrogant prince, decided to crush all your attempts at being by your lonesome via his request.

And you had a mind to reject the offer.

It wasn't like the two of you were close in any way, shape or form! You disliked him and he disliked you, a fact that you were completely fine with. So...why were you in a cabin with him in the middle of the woods? Simple! Because his car decided to run out of gas all of a sudden and the once gentle pitter-patter of rain was becoming an all-out thunderstorm. Any attempts to look for help or some type of gas station to refuel had been crushed the second you two heard the thunder in the distance.

Although the cabin was in slight disrepair and lacked air conditioning. it was clear that it was nowhere close to a five-star motel. But it was the best and only option for you two.

Much to Leona's annoyance with each passing second, he thought he could feel something crawling on him as you two decided to hang out in the living room area of sorts. "How troublesome," He said.

"Maybe you should've listened to me when I said that I didn't want to go." The prince's eyes rolled at your words, he'd be blunt with himself when he said that there was no real reason as to why he asked for you to come with him, aside from the fact that Ruggie said he'd be busy this weekend going back to the Sunset Savannas. Although he could've asked anyone else...you, strangely enough, were the first person that popped into his mind.

Leona then turned to look at you, resting his chin in the palm of his hand as his arm was propped up on the arm of the couch he sat on. "Be more grateful, or are you always invited places with princes?"

You guffawed. "You're so full of it."

He smirked. "Am I?"

"Yes!"

"Hm, I wonder if your answer would remain firm if I suggested we do something more fun together."

His smirk grew when you turned your head away with silence, however, his senses caught onto the brief scent of...sweetness in the air.

You were fun.

Way more fun than Ruggie, perhaps that's what first made him begin liking you a little bit more than anyone else at this school. Not that he would be so quick to admit that to yourself, it had taken him a very long time for him to admit it to himself! Though he didn't know exactly when his liking towards you started, all he knew was that...he wanted to be closer to you. But until he was ready to make that first step, that or your clear lusts towards him reached their boiling point and you confessed yourself. He rather enjoyed teasing you.

A true lion knew how to wait for his prey to come to him.

Suddenly however, a scent of something sweet caught his nostrils. The prince's nose scrunched up at the smell. "What's that?" He looked around.

"What's what?" You responded, your head turning to him as he smelled the air before you copied his actions. It reminded you of a vanilla scent, mixed with a hint of chocolate that grew more potent with each breath, with each pull of the smell into your lungs as you began to feel yourself relax more and more. As well as grow...strangely hot.

You wanted to panic as you felt your vision starting to become hazy but as your eyes dragged over to Leona. You couldn't help that your thighs started to clench once more. The lion beastman was never ugly in your eyes, his strikingly handsome features, as well as the fact that he was a prince, was a juxtaposition to him being rude and lazy. Still, it seemed that the heart wants what the heart wants because despite those facts...despite you desperately trying to tell and scold yourself that you shouldn't like Leona.

Here you stood, vision hazy and silently pleading that he would just walk over to you and kiss you like you wanted to kiss him.

And as you focused on that fact, you had barely noticed he had walked up to you until he was right in front of your face, your eyes glued to his moving lips until...you leaned in to kiss him. A chaste peck, nothing more, but one that left the prince stunned as his eyes widened until they were almost comically large.

He'd been waiting for that since he had a crush on you.

But...judging from your smell, your clenching thighs, and how you looked at him as if you were in a daze.

This strange scent in the cabin was affecting you—no, the both of you. He was harder than ever in his entire twenty years of living. As he continued to look at you, all he could think about was fucking you into the nearby couch and making you his officially. But, he desperately tried to keep his mind afloat and free from letting his instincts and wants take over. No matter what this smell made him want to do, he wouldn't do it unless you were in the mindset for you to ask him to do it.

"C'mon, we need to leave—" His eyes immediately snapped shut, his teeth gritting together to the point it was almost painful as he tried to ignore your shameless moans the second he tried to help you up. And the way the sounds kept repeating over and over and over in his head, was maddening. "Quite your squeaking and get up—"

"Nooooo...." You whined. "Leona, I really like you."

He rolled his eyes. "You're not in your right head."

You pouted, the adorable sight nearly making the prince falter. Almost.

"You like me too, right?" You asked, your voice almost a plead as you grabbed onto Leona's forearm tightly, begging him to look you in the eyes.

His mouth opened and closed before he nodded his head.

And that's all the confirmation you needed before you tried to lean in for another kiss, only for Leona to put some distance between the two of you once again. "Are you sure?" He asked.

"Yes." Then you pulled him to your lips by tugging on his hair, ripping a raspy groan from the lion beastman as his arm snaked around you to pull you closer to his chest. The two press of your lips together made your nerves fire off as if they were being electrocuted every millisecond, your hands grabbing and pulling at the prince's clothing as he clumsily carried you to the couch before he placed you down and started to pull off your clothing. Whatever the scent in the air was doing, it made the both of you feel closer to wild animals in heat.

As if you couldn't get enough of each other.

And quite frankly? The both of you didn't want to.

[littlegreenfag-archive]

Regarding @littlegreenfag

Tldr: Adina, known by the Tumblr urls littlegreenfag and prksoda, has spent the past several years lying about many facets of their life. The list of lies includes, but is not limited to, being half manouche Romani, being Jewish, and being descended from Holocaust survivors.

I never wanted to have to do this. I’ve spent months trying my best to encourage Adina to come clean themself. My methods were not ideal. I should not have used anonymous messages. I used to be friends with them, I should've talked to them openly as their friend. I also should’ve attempted to be less aggressive at times, even though I think it is incredibly reasonable to have felt the way I felt when I was sending some of those messages. I understand and regret both of these things. Unfortunately, since Adina has deactivated @littlegreenfag, I cannot provide links or screenshots to every ask of mine that they responded to, only those I saved at the time. I will do this later, upon request. This post is already going to be enough of a monster without them.

Though the last day has been a complete nightmare, I am satisfied with one thing: Adina came clean about everything, even if not publicly. My worry was always with the though of having to reveal their personal information, as many of the things they’ve lied about would require me to, functionally, dox them. Though it's technically all public, I would much rather that no one who doesn't already have access to this information gain it.

So, why am I writing this post? For those of you who were on Adina’s blog last night, you may have seen this post. I was also able to save a capture of their blog on the Internet Archive. Here is a screenshot that I took around when the post was first published. Apologies for the formatting.

To summarize, Adina begins to by admitting to a small lie, that they were born in Chicago, before admitting that they had been lying about their race. Though it was not present at the time of the blog's deletion, I would like to note that Adina had the phrase "jewish and half-romani" in their blog's bio for a very long time. This phrase was quietly removed after I sent the first anon message telling them that I was aware of their lies, on March 16th 2024. This can be seen on the Wayback Machine, by looking at the capture taken on March 5th, 2024, in comparison to the capture taken on March 24th, 2024.

That is what you may have seen. However, it is not the only major lie Adina has told. After suggesting Adina should turn off anons, I sent them another ask with my blog name visible, telling them that I could tell everyone about the other lies for them, if they wished to log off and be done with it. They messaged me privately, and this is the resulting conversation.

I apologize for the block of images, but I figured it was necessary to include the entire conversation. Here, Adina openly admits to not being Jewish. Adina has spent months receiving social benefits for claiming to be Jewish, and they've even used this claim to support arguments. Truth be told, Adina has one Jewish great-grandfather. How Adina expected me to believe they would know about this without knowing his surname, I will never know. However, I should emphasize that Adina is not Jewish by the standards of any main movement of Judaism. Orthodox and Conservative look for an unbroken line of Jewish women, while Reform asks that you be raised Jewish by a Jewish parent. Adina is descended from a Jewish man who converted to Catholicism and raised his children Catholic.

Regarding the Holocaust claim, I understand hat Adina did not directly address this. I will say that I find it suspicious that they deactivated as soon as I mentioned it, but they technically never confirmed it was a lie. However, with the information that:

The ancestors they mention as being survivors or victims quite literally do not exist and

Their Jewish ancestor was born in the United States well before WWII

I believe it is quite safe to say this was also a lie. My screenshots of their claims come mostly from their Reddit account, which is now deleted.

It is absolutely ghoulish to me to create fake relatives so that you can pretend they were tortured and killed during the Holocaust. All to receive sympathy.

Though there are many, many other lies Adina has peddled, such as being a child of divorce and having a dead biological mother, I don't think any of them matter much in the grand scheme of things when these are the other lies that have been told.

It is also worth noting that this is a pattern of behavior from Adina. As some of you who followed them may know, back in 2019, a blog was created with the intent of calling them out for lies. Frankly, this blog, @prksodalies , is what put me on to Adina's trail in the first place. Though I believe that several of the things Adina was accused of on this blog are downright cruel to accuse someone of without evidence, the fact that there were so many smaller obvious lies made me very uneasy. What specifically made me curious was the post, here, where Adina claims that they are half Lebanese. Obviously, this did not make a ton of sense with the half Roma and half Ashkenazi Jewish Adina we all knew. As it turns out, this was one of the very few shreds of truth from Adina. They're a quarter Lebanese on their father's side, and other than that and a Jewish great-grandfather, are of mostly Polish and German descent.

This being a pattern of behavior, alongside the way Adina behaved in messages with me, tells me that this will likely unfortunately not be the last time this person creates a Tumblr blog with a fabricated life story. I feel immense guilt at the thought that they may continue to swindle and hurt people, and that I will never know or be able to help again.

To everyone who was friends with this person and has been hurt by their actions, I am truly, truly sorry. This has been an absolutely miserable experience for me and I can't imagine it's much different for any of you. If you have questions, I'll be available for a least a few hours. I do not want to share any of their personal information, but I will share what I need to (privately) if some of you need or want more information.

[createdbytragedy]

MY GIRLFRIEND (3),(2),(1)

Pairing: Choi Beomgyu x reader Genre: Fluff, crack, established relationship Warning: Mention of marking, Gyu loves being marked with lipstick, that's it, i think A/N: This was a bit rushed and not my best work. I might edit it but bear with me right now

Beomgyu ironically considered himself an introvert.

That would be the biggest bullshit you and the members have ever heard. Him? An introvert? It was like his mouth was running from a battery that could never tire out! At least that was what Yeonjun said. You never mind the way Beomgyu blabbers. It was, in fact, the thing that made you fall in love with him. And right now it's also the reason you were in trouble.

It was common for Beomgyu to talk about you to his members and anyone within the radius of 10 feet and most of the time, it wasn't much of a problem. Not that anyone ever said it wasn't a problem at all. But it was getting hard trying to shut his mouth infront of the cameras. They needed to live a rather heedful life than the normal people but in the end, they were still humans. One among us. So, You can excuse Beomgyu for accidentally letting your name slip every once in a while, right?

In an interview

"Beomgyu - ssi, I personally love your necklace. Where did you get it?"

"Oh, I love it too!! it's so pretty, right?! my girlfriend--," a loud slap on his thighs made him hiss and stop mid sentence to glare at the boy beside him. "Me, me. I bought it for him! I'm the girlfriend!! Beomgyu and I have been dating since our trainee days, right Gyu?," Yeonjun asked, glaring at the male through a fake smile plastered across his face. "I wouldn't date you even if you were the last girl standing on earth......," Beomgyu muttered under his breath, rubbing at his thighs where there was a noticeable red handprint of Yeonjun. "You wanna say that louder, Jagi, it didn't quite reached the camera," Yeonjun said through gritted teeth, squeezing the boy's thighs and purposefully digging his fingernails into his skin. Beomgyu hisses, making eye contact with Yeonjun who innocently smiled at him ," I was saying, thank you," Beomgyu's hands rested on his knee, pinching the skin with his oh, so long nails ," very much for the necklace, Hyung," he smiled, seeing how Yeonjun's face scrunched up in pain, " but, I think you got it messed up because someone else got this for me." "We have no idea what they're doing." Taehyun commented, looking at the camera. With Beomgyu's carelessness, your relationship was at risk of publicity. But, can you really stay mad at him when he looks at you like that? With those big, brown, puppy like eyes, saying he's sorry and that he'll be careful next time. How can you not give into that? It should've been no surprise when you come across his new Instagram post. Beomgyu was not sorry about his actions at all. He have always wanted to reveal his relationship with you. Wanted to show the world that you're his and he's yours. He was intentionally dropping hints.' Accidentally' mentioning your name, showing off your matching necklace, wearing low necklines to make sure the red lipstick stain on his collarbone was vaguely shown. He wanted to tell the world he was taken and you were off limits. And maybe this time, he really let his heart win. The picture was taken by him. Both of you staring at each other instead of the camera, lost in each other's eyes. His face was covered with your lipstick stain because Beomgyu loves being marked. And the photo itself was enough the shake the world. And for once, you didn't care about the consequences of his action, instead smiling when his name popped in your notification. MY LOVE <3 "Oops, sorry, accidentally posted that. Didn't mean to :(" "But, don't we look cute?" "Kinda want you to come over and mark my face all over again." Well, you could read the comments and think about the aftermath later. Right now you had priorities. You thought as you took your lipstick out from the drawer and headed for the door.

[littlemissstel]

Soft-Play Love- Shiu Kong

You meet someone while taking your daughter to the softplay centre.

No use of (Y/n), Shiu and reader are both in their late 30s and have daughters, (D/n) = daughters name, "mummy"

dividers from @saradika-graphics

It had taken a month of begging from your daughter to finally take her to the soft play centre she loved oh so much. It wasn’t that you minded her being there—it was just that you knew the routine all too well: the first twenty minutes of her clinging to you , the next hour of boredom as you waited, then the inevitable meltdown when it was time to leave. Not to mention the sickness a few days later once the germs caught up with her, keeping her a grumpy mess for what seemed like an eternity. And like any other reasonable parent, you'd rather not deal with any of those things. If you'd been a bit younger when you had your babe, perhaps this wouldn't be so draining- but you weren't and it was.

Still, you couldn’t help but smile at her excited little face, knowing how much this meant to her- it was just a part of growing up, and so, begrudgingly, you spent your Saturday afternoon sat on a chipping, washed-out, squeaky chair; overstimulated by the merged sounds of high-pitched shrieks from feral children and smell of sickeningly sweet processed snacks. Truth be told, you hadn't seen your daughter for the last ten minutes - too engrossed in your book to acknowledge the passing time. The last few instances you had managed to catch sight of her she was accompanied by a young girl around the same age, who sported pigtails and a wide smile to show off the gleaming rows of wobbly teeth. It's not often she bothered at making friends so you were more than happy to let them be, but you figured it was time to warn her about leaving soon as the end of your session approached- knowing she would no doubt bring chaos in her wake.

"MUMMYYY!!" the all too familiar voice sounds from behind as she runs into view, her new found friend in hand.

"Me and Min-hee want ice cream!"

"Yes please!" the little girl added, her rosy cheeks squished in delight.

For a moment you considered saying no, but how could you? Not when two anticipating faces of faux angels looked up at you with such expectation.

"How about we ask Min-hee's parent if they are okay with it first?", you suggested, already reaching for your bag. "Then I’ll get you both some ice cream."

And in a blink the two girls were off, racing back into the chaos of the play area.

You figured that was the end of the conversation until they both reappeared, a tall and handsome man trailing after them with his gaze meeting yours. He seemed to be around your age, no older than forty which was rare to see and you perked up in interest. There were a few parents from your daughters year who were also in their late 30s but they were the least sociable of the cohort, either that or they had their biases about you being a single parent. It wasn't something you had ever foreseen. You and your then husband had been together for a long time beforehand and when your daughter had unexpectedly came you both saw it as a blessing. Though a few years after her arrival, fights began to frequently arise ; about his job, about household chores, about quality time, about trivial matters that never should've been a problem in the first place. You both tried to make it work but you had already drifted too far and- although not fully divorced- decided to separate. Now you both co-parent on good terms, though the unevenly split weeks still tend to be the subject of most disputes.

You stood up, snapped out of your daze, giving him a friendly smile, but for a moment, it felt like the words caught in your throat. It was one of those strange moments where the quiet between two strangers is just enough to make you second guess.

"Daddy! (D/n)'s mum wants to say something to you!"

"Oh—no, I just wanted to know if it’s alright for the girls to get ice cream," you blurted, suddenly feeling put on the spot, "I didn’t mean to drag you over here."

He smiled—an easy, small but genuine smile—and you felt a wave of relief. "It’s no problem. I don’t mind at all. Do you have a preference?", he asked, his voice deep, almost soothing.

"A preference?"

"Of ice cream flavor"

"Ah, no, thank you," you said, shaking your head. "I really don’t mind getting them myself." .

"It’s my treat," the tension between you both easing as he spoke.

"Then can I at least help you carry them back?"

"Of course", and he stepped aside, gesturing for you to follow him

The conversation was concluded by the badly hidden giggles of your girls who took turns whispering in each others ear. If you had to guess it would be D/n cracking poorly made jokes. If Shiu had to guess, his daughter would be up to something.

The table where the girls sat was right next to the restaurant so you had no qualms about leaving them for a few minutes as you followed Shiu into the queue.

"Do you come here often?" He starts, turning his body halfway to you. Each ray that streamed through the windows turned everything it touched into a fierce gold which bounced off the side of his face and into his eyes- creating splotches of sweet honeycomb too captivating to look away. It was almost as if the heavens were testing your resolve with how they shone down on him and you could only pray the light blocked his vision enough so that he didn't notice your prolonged stare.

"We used to but not so much anymore. D/n has been bugging me for weeks and I couldn't hold off any longer"

"That sounds about right" he chuckles dryly

"What about you?"

"It's our third time, I've been meaning to take her more but it's hard to find the time when there's only one of you"

You nod in excitement understanding, "I get it, there's only one of me too- and i could think of a thousand other things that need doing right now but..."

The two of you continued to talk, the subject straying slightly further from kids and more into your personal lives which you unexpectedly appreciated. Children were something you both had in common yes, but you hadn't had a proper conversation with another adult in a long while and it was nice to interact with someone as the original you for once- not mummy. He had an unspoken charisma about him, one that drew you in and you felt more and more compelled to ask about the mundane aspects of his day to day life- anything to fill the puzzle in your head of the intriguing man. Eventually the ice creams were served and although you initially joined him to help carry the two sizable bowls of sugar, he quickly scooped them up and asked another question before you could have a word of it.

"So," he said, voice low and subtly teasing, "do you think we’ll be able to handle two sugar-high kids at the same time?"

You raised an eyebrow, smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "As long as they continue to entertain each other, but I’m sure we'll regret it regardless"

The girls were already bouncing in their seats, their eyes wide with excitement like little comical bunnies and you couldn’t help but chuckle. The two of you sat down next to each other engaging in conversation as the girls indulged in their own and suddenly the cheap plastic chair, bright fluorescent lights, and overbearing shouts of children became more comfortable than it had any right to be - blurring into the distance.

You seemed to bond with Shiu seamlessly, the two of you finding another who understood the hidden struggles of single parenting and you had wished it was as easy to talk to all of the parents you had to interact with; normally as a result of your daughters playdates where conversations consisted of watered down small talk.

Your discussion was cut short however as a loud beep echoed through the room—a reminder that your session was almost up and you prepared yourself for the oncoming tantrum.

"Ah, I’m afraid we need to get going soon," you said, carefully. "Our session's almost over."

The girls' faces fell. "Noo! Thats's not fair!" D/n whined, slumping in her seat.

You looked over at Shiu, feeling the irony of your disappointment as you not too long counted down the minutes until you could leave.

"Well, we’ll have to do it again sometime," he said, his voice warm.

"Definitely," you agreed, a tad too fast for your liking. "Maybe we could arrange a playdate for the girls? They seem to have hit it off."

Shiu’s smile softened. "That'd be great"

The girls erupt in squeals once again,

"Can we have a sleepover!?" (D/n) begged. "Please, please, can Min-hee come over?"

You and Shiu exchanged knowing, apologetic glances, and you reached for your phone, handing it to him.

"Here, I'll text you and we can figure out what works best"

He took the phone, his fingers brushing yours for just a second. "Sure thing." He quickly typed before handing it back to you. "Looking forward to it."

"Me too," you said, feeling a flutter of anticipation in your chest as you saved his number.

For some reason the simple exchange felt strangely significant, like the start of something new.

Please feel free to leave any ideas/ recommendations x

[stsgluver]

synopsis. gojo doesn’t appreciate that one of you cares about your education.

wc. 570

“stop staring at me to distract me!”

“oh, i’m not staring at you to distract you,” satoru tilts his head with a lop-sided grin — you definitely do not miss the way his eyes drop to your lips. “i just can’t help it. my girl is too pretty."

you try and fail miserably not to let him realise how much of an effect those simple words have on you (not that he's not already full aware). “i have to practice," waving your hand towards the door, you wordlessly gesture for him to leave.

he lets out a light chuckle and you can only imagine the cocky smirk toying at the corner of his mouth; you are opting to stare at the practice test paper in front of you and not into the tantilising blue of your boyfriend's eyes for obvious reasons.

“i never asked you to stop." satoru shuffles his chair closer to yours so much so there's a little 'clink' as the metal knocks against each other. his breath fans across the back of your neck as he peers over your shoulder to look at all your empty test answers.

you should've agreed to study with shoko.

you have upcoming written tests with yaga and, unlike your pretty boyfriend, you do not have a well-known family name or millions in the bank to fall back on if you fail.

“it’s off-putting,” you shudder, sparing him a brief glance to see he's already awaiting that look from you. his glasses are pushed back onto the top of his head and his white locks are a mess that ends just above his eyes. his breath smells like the lemon lolly he'd finished only minutes prior.

satoru ignores your complaints, resting one elbow on your desk as he stares up at you. “have i ever told you how hot you are when you're stressed?” your heart skips several beats.

you poke his cheek with your pencil lightly, "is that why you make yourself the main source of it?"

"of course, baby," satoru winks and you roll your eyes at his teasing tone. "you don't find my antics charming?" as much as you hate to admit it, everything about your insufferable boyfriend is charming to you.

"satoru..." you warn quietly. he knows how important this test is to you, however, he was raised as a god. one who always get whatever he wanted and your resolve could only last so long.

his eyes close with a smile, "i love how you say my name. treat me, say it again."

"no. get out."

you poke him again with the pencil but this time he grabs your wrists and stops you from returning your hand to your paper. he pouts expectantly, eyes fluttering open and once again he's taken his dramatics to another level as you're almost positive there's tears in the corners of his eyes.

there must be a look of defeat in your eyes because satoru gives you a victorious grin, flashing his pearly whites, and you let out a groan. "fine. five minutes. you get five minutes of my time and then you can go bother suguru"

satoru jumps up like the excitable puppy he so often is, leaning down to pick you up bridal style and spin you around your room. "yay! i have my girlfriend back!"

safe to say he had your undivided attention for a lot longer than five minutes.

[partycatty]

dilf!johnny cage > to heal

how it goes when reader dates older johnny following the loss of sonya

warnings: grief, age gap, mentions of sex but no smut written

notes: i want to gnaw on dilf johnny until he is nothing but bones. it is for that reason that this post is LONG. yappasaurus rex over here.

masterlist <3

•first of all mk11 was so bad at covering the grief of a man losing the mother of his child

•then again that also implicates that johnny is really, really good at hiding his emotions, especially around the people he's meant to be stoic around. i wouldn't necessarily cry in front of a thunder god or cryomancer either. and i'd try to keep it together for my kid.

•regardless, johnny falls into a deep, DEEP depression that eats away at him. he should have been there on that mission. he should've canceled that ninja mime shooting and spent one more day with his family before it was completely wrecked. and he'll tell himself this every time he looks at cassie's empty eyes. he stays sober, for her, but god does he wish he could just feel nothing sometimes.

•johnny stays smiles and jokes, but as soon as he closes the door to his sleeping quarters, all he can do is blankly stare ahead. damn him and his acting skills. he wants people to check up on him, but it's just so... hard to express his pain.

•some time passes and he considers himself recovered, but every time he sees his daughter excel in training or lips smile in the way sonya's did... god.

•imagine his surprise when his own daughter asks him to get back into the dating scene. cassie says something along the lines of "you're a sad old fart that needs a woman to get him off of the couch."

•cassie's right, unfortunately. johnny let his stubble grow in and hair grow increasingly wild. he didn't carry himself as well as he once did, which was especially worrying to those who saw him as the confident, sharp, charismatic character.

•johnny declines to his daughter, finding the conversation kind of off-putting. but, on a late tuesday, he decides "fuck it" and sets up a bumble profile while sitting on the classic leather dad recliner in the living room. the one thing he forgot to do? set an age range.

•so he's a little taken aback when a 29 year old you is the third person he swiped to. instinctively, he thought to swipe left on you, but curiosity got the better of him. he read your profile and realized you sounded incredibly mature and had the same interests as him. covering his mouth and holding his phone with the other, he swipes... right, feeling an immediate intense guilt.

•he doubted you'd match with him, but as soon as he swipes, a big "IT'S A MATCH!" covers his phone screen and he lets out an audible gasp, tightening his grip on his face. he then gets a twinge of embarrassment for himself. was he seriously flipping his shit over his first match on a mobile dating app? yes.

•johnny spends a good long while staring at the screen, wondering if you'd even message him. after all, men couldn't message first on the app. what if she thinks he's too old? what if it was an accidental swipe? what if...

•NEW MESSAGE! "hiii :)" johnny swallows, afraid to open the message. what would he say? what should he say? does bumble have read receipts? would you notice he opened your message and stared for several minutes?

•he settles on "hello, how are you?" it's been a while since he's had to genuinely flirt with interest, so he opens cordially. johnny was a charmer for sure, but this time he was playing for keeps, not just for fun. he also, unlike his younger version he met some time ago, wants to take his time.

•you two chat back and forth, and while you acknowledge to him that he is indeed a celebrity (and how hilariously stupid it was that he was on a public dating site), you express no real concern over it. you mention to him that you want to see him as a man and not a character. the deeper conversation of dealing with the spotlight could come another time, as johnny didn't want to scare you away.

•you two text for a lot longer than most matches on bumble. johnny's honestly terrified of meeting up in person. he wants to be so incredibly sure that it's you he wants to meet up with. he forgot to keep swiping, even. he was so fixated on getting to know you. he felt weird talking to multiple women on the app, since he was so used to married life.

•he can't bring himself to ask you on a real date, so you two settle on a friendly coffee chat. he shaves, gets a trim, and for the first time in a long time, stresses about wearing the right things. he even calls cassie and asks if he should wear shirt A or shirt B, but was very keen on redacting your age from the conversation. that was something he was afraid to disclose to her.

•what was this man so afraid of?? you are a SWEETHEART. you're so incredibly mature, have more "vintage" interests and asked so many questions, leaning in to listen. johnny didn't feel the need to perform, in fact, he found himself... with butterflies. he death-gripped his coffee to hide the fact that his fingers were trembling.

•one coffee chat turns into two, and then three, four, and eventually, he feels okay enough to plan a real date. his heart was swelling with excitement, a new warmth in his chest. you were so effortlessly patient and kind with him, never asking for anything of him besides his time.

•he plans a dinner date, squeezing you two into a lavish restaurant that he wouldn't have been able to get into if he wasn't a celebrity. he didn't want to overwhelm you with his money and fame, but god did he want to do this right. even though the topic of money was something you never thought to consider with him, he still wanted to show off at least a little bit. it's just in his character!

•there, he starts to come out of his shell a bit more. he starts flirting back, and you two hold hands across the table, intense eye contact as you converse freely.

•johnny takes a sip of his drink, looking down. but when he looks back up, he notices you admiring him with your sweet young eyes. and it's here that he realizes just how much you've revitalized him. he springs out of bed with a smile. you're the last thought in his mind before he falls asleep. when he is with cassie, he can't stop thinking about how much you two would get along.

•which, by the way, johnny is so incredibly sure to remind you that he has a daughter that's your age. you pause and think, trying to articulate your thoughts on the awkward circumstance.

•"i understand that it may be a little uncomfortable for her and the last thing i want is to drive a wedge between you and your daughter. you speak highly of her and i deeply admire that. i perfectly understand that she comes before me."

•johnny stops himself from tearing up. you're... just so kind. you're perfect.

•after the ninth date, he decides that he's ready to go back to your place. it's a quaint apartment, and it's there that you both make the conscious decision to have sex.

•it's slow and sweet, he's murmuring praises into your bare skin as he takes his time exploring a new body. older johnny takes his time with sex unlike his younger days. he needs to appreciate your beauty, complimenting every feature on your body. you're so divine.

•"such a pretty girl..." he whisper-groans above you, strong hands holding your hips in place with a passionate firmness.

•over the next couple months, he's still working toward officially calling you his girlfriend. a new partner in his life scares him, even if you make all of that tension disappear when you're around. it's just a lot to ask of a man to take that new step again.

•biting the bullet, he asks you at your doorstep holding a cheesily large bouquet, having to glance over it to get a proper look at you. you smile sweetly, nodding and immediately accepting in that gentle voice. you knew how much this meant to him to make things official.

•cassie eventually gets the chance to meet you, as her father brings you along to a holiday party with the family. it's... it's a little weird, she won't lie. i mean, it's just weird in general to see your dad with someone that isn't your mom. that's something that naturally needs time to adjust to. and your age isn't something she can avoid discussing.

•she doesn't hate you. she actually finds you quite enjoyable to be around! she's just a little uneasy that you're her age. but, after a long, long talk full of tears and reassuring words, cassie realizes she can learn to accept you being with her dad. i mean, she sees what you do to him.

•that sparkle in his puppy-dog brown eyes is back, and he just can't stop being engulfed by your presence. a hand is always on the small of your back, a grin always plastered on his face, and eyes are always locked onto you when you're doing the most mundane of tasks. he's chirpier, and people even joke that he seems as active as he was in his younger years. you got the old man's rusty gears turnin'!

•he loves you. he didn't realize he could do that again.

[thatssonanii]

Chapter Thirteen

A/N: The highly requested and anticipated chapter! Yall I been working on this chapter for soooooo long, I just couldn't get it to flow but I finally got it! Pay attention when you're reading😌 ⭐LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG & SHARE⭐ Enjoy!

Warnings: Cussing, light smut, 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

DO NOT REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE AND CLAIM IT AS YOUR OWN!

Masterlist

Chapter Twelve

Flashback #2

Dating again was something Hassan never thought he'd do but now that he was, he realized he was lying to himself when he would say that he was okay without it. Deep down he was a romantic, a lover and needed to give that to someone special. The deterioration of his marriage hurt more than he'd vocalized, living on the other side of the country away from his daughter hurt even more but he knew when the end came there was no comma. Nadine once the apple of his eye was now rotten but he would always love her for giving him his babygirl. His babygirl being the reason for everything he did since her birth which funnily included dating again. He wanted to show her that moving on and away from the things Nadine had done was possible. Healing is what he chose for him and his daughter which is why he was preparing himself for another date with Tamara. 

They, mostly him, had been dancing around what they obviously were but he planned to change that. Having spent most of the day getting a few gifts, her favorite flowers and making sure his house was up to par, Hassan was going to lock them down. 

Standing in his kitchen, he cut zucchini to roast when his phone rang interrupting him and his music. He glanced over to see it was Nadine facetiming him. After not hearing from her for a couple of weeks, he wasn't exactly excited to hear from her but answered it nonetheless. 

Being met with silence made him roll his eyes knowing what she wanted. ��I'm cooking, Nadine. I can't look at the phone.”

“Mmm okay,” she conceded. “What are you cooking?”

“Lamb shoulder, mashed potatoes and zucchini.”

She hummed in surprise. “Oooh, I should've flown in just for dinner. Your parents coming over or your sister and her husband?”

He glanced at the phone, seeing her expectant face. “What's up, Nadine? You wanted something, I can tell.”

“You know me so well after all this time,” she laughed softly. 

“That's what happens when you're with someone for 20 years, married for 14. I'm listening, I don't have a lot of time.”

There was a brief pause on her end which he allowed. A sigh escaped her before she spoke. 

“Gabi came here not too long ago, unannounced, and she said something to me that I wanted to check with you about.”

“Don't say unannounced like that's not still my house and like you don't and haven't done your share of pop ups at her house.” He continued cutting. “What did you wanna check with me about?”

“She said that you're seeing someone and it's … it's serious. But I know you would've told me if you were.”

Stopping what he was doing, Hassan went to stand in front of his phone that sat propped up on the counter. He folded his arms across his chest, staring at her. 

“We're not married anymore and we're not friends so I'm not sure why you would think that I would tell you what I'm doing.”

He could tell that she was taken aback by his words but he had to let it be known. 

“Yes, we're not married but I'd like to think that we were friends, San.” She explained softly. “So you are seeing someone seriously then?”

“I am.” He answered. His voice was as cool and calm as always. 

The panic in her eyes almost made him feel bad but that went away quickly. He watched her get up from her seat and pace for a moment before coming to stand in frame with her hands on her hips. 

“I can't believe you would do this, Hassan.”

“Do what? Move on with my life?” He asked, stroking his beard. “We've been divorced for over ten years now, Nadine. I honestly should've done it sooner.”

Even though she wasn't as close to the phone, he could still see the tears that fell from her eyes. They were real and he knew it but he couldn't bring himself to care. 

“Why? I thought,” she mumbled in distress.

“You thought what?”

“I thought … we were still in this. Do you not love me, Hassan? I was your wife.” She cried. 

He stared at her with a brow raised. “Is that really what you thought? Nadine, I will always love you for giving me Moriah but I don't love you in that way that you want me to anymore. And I haven't for a long time.”

“What? How can you say that after everything?” She asked in a whisper. 

“After everything how can you think that I would wanna be with you again? Disregard what you did to me,” he responded. “Think about the way you’ve tortured our daughter all these years. I could never love someone that's done the things you've done to someone that came from you, Nadine.”

Her tears at this point were streaming down her face, she didn't bother to wipe them. Her heart was breaking, crumbling piece by piece. 

“I did what I needed to protect Moriah. I was helping her and you hate me for it. What was I supposed to do?”

“You weren't protecting or helping her, Nadine. You were torturing her because you were mad at me.” He retorted, ignoring her tears. “Even though it's damning, let's sit aside the abortion, let's sit aside you making her babysit and working in that daycare and the other things. The camp you sent her to, let's talk about that.”

Nadine stopped her loud sobbing and brought her hands down from her face to stare at him. Shock was displayed all over her making Hassan chuckle. 

“How did you know? Who told you?”

“Well let's see,” he paused, “Before Rye told me, your mother called me when she was on the way to pick Rye up after Kami told her. I've known for years, Nadine. Do you know what they did to her there? Of course you do, that's why you sent her there.”

She shook her head repeatedly. “Moriah needed help! She was going to be another statistic, San! The sneaking out, having sex with whoever, that baby … she was out of control!”

“Don't bring up my grandchild. She was not out of control and you know it,” he spat. “She snuck out with Zilla a few times, she had sex with only Zilla. You're trying to spin it into something it wasn’t. Her grades were good, she was still in her activities and never got in trouble.”

“You weren't there! You don't know!”

“I know everything about my daughter, Nadine. It's your fault that I wasn't there no matter how much you try to make me the bad guy.”

“You picked that job over me and our daughter. That's why you weren't there.”

“That's why? It wasn't because I was taking a pay cut for the first two years? It wasn't because you didn't want us to bring Moriah with us to Georgia, that you wanted to leave her with your parents because she was too much of a hassle? It wasn't because you didn't wanna leave the man you were fucking? You sure it wasn’t any of those reasons, Nadine?”

“Hassan, those first few things may be true but I never cheated on you! Never!”

He gave her a relaxed smile. “You sure? I've known for years. You think I don't know the real reason you all of a sudden didn't like Zilla and his family?”

“I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't like them because they were steering you and Moriah wrong.”

“That's not it, sweetheart,” he said calmly. “You didn't like them, Eddie specifically, once you found out the man you were fucking was his cousin and you knew he would tell me so you wanted to get us away from them. That's why. Isn't that right?”

“I'm not doing this with you. He lied to you. I can't believe you believed him over me.”

He shrugged. “You should just be lucky I was nice enough to keep that secret among all the others.”

Done with their conversation, Hassan ended the call and took a deep breath. The secrets he held onto for the sake of her and to some extent Moriah were feeling heavier than usual. It felt good to get two off his mind. He hadn't breathed a word of her infidelity since Eddie had told him and he met the man. Initially, the revelation damn near broke him down but now he felt relieved. He took a moment to get himself together then went back to cooking. Although his conversation with Nadine was unexpected and deeper than he anticipated, he was glad it happened because it solidified his feelings of wanting to make his and Tamara's relationship solid and defined. 

“It's been far too long since I've seen this lovely face.” Trenice exclaimed seeing Leata. She abandoned her shopping cart to go hug the other woman in the middle of the aisle. “How are you, sweetie?”

“I'm … I'm doing okay. How are you, Mrs. Parker?”

Trenice hit her arm playfully, “Girl, I'm good but we are family. Trenice will always do. And who is this little beauty?”

Leata smiled down at Sienna briefly. “My grandbaby Sienna. This is Auntie Rye's Umi, SiSi. Tell her hi.”

Sienna waved excitedly. “Hey, Auntie Rye's Umi!”

The older women laughed at her greeting. Trenice leaned towards the shopping cart to hug the little girl, placing a kiss on top of her head. 

“You can call me Umi, too, sweetie.” Trenice winked at her before turning back to Leata. “Back to you, I heard that hesitation. Since I'm sure everything is okay with my two grandbabies, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say it's my oldest daughter. Am I right?”

She was hesitant to confirm. They always had a good relationship but Nadine was still her daughter at the end of the day. 

“It's okay, you can tell me. You've known me long enough to know it won't offend me.” Trenice assured noticing her hesitant pause. 

“It's her. I love Moriah like she's my own flesh and blood and I don't understand. The things she's done are just horrible. The more I find out, the more disgusted I get.”

Trenice moved to rub her back, noticing the tears pooling in her eyes. “Trust me, I understand. Nadine is my flesh and blood but very often I wonder where she gets this from. She wasn't always like that and I know you know that.”

“She was one of my best friends and I just don't know who she is now and haven't for awhile.” She paused to dab at her eyes. “And then I feel awful because I was around Rye and couldn't tell that something more than I already knew was going on.”

“Listen to me,” Trenice demanded softly, still rubbing her back, “I knew almost everything and there still wasn't much I could do so I understand your feelings. Nadine knew there wasn't much we could do especially since Moriah rarely reached out.”

“Which pisses me off even more because despite what Nadine did to her, Moriah still protected her.”

Sienna watched them noticing the body language change. “Nana, you sad? What's wrong?”

Leata quickly shook her head, “I'm not sad, baby. I'm happy cause I haven't seen you and Auntie's Umi in a while.”

“Oooh okay, Nana. But still don't cry. Kay?” 

“We should talk more about this in private. I'll be in town for the next two weeks helping Kami house hunt. Call me and we'll set something up.”

“Yes ma'am,” Leata answered, leaning to hug her. 

“I mean it. If you don't call me, I'm gonna call you.” She smiled then kissed Sienna's head. “I'll see you later, sweetie.”

With the thought weighing heavily on him, Bronco went looking for Gia. The way she was shamelessly throwing herself at his friend wasn't sitting right with him and he knew it made not only Moriah uncomfortable but Zilla as well. He searched backstage until he found her. 

“Of course she watching his match,” he mumbled, going to stand beside her as the monitors. He glanced briefly at her, noticing the small smile on her face. “What's up, Gia?”

“Oh hey, Bronco. Nothing, just watching Zilla. He looks good out there.” She answered not taking her eyes off of the match. “Wrestling wise I mean.”

‘Uhuh. We gotta talk.”

“About?” 

The two of them spoke without moving their attention from the monitors. Gia because she didn't want to take her eyes off of Zilla. Bronco because truth be told, he couldn't stand to look at her too long. 

“Whatever you tryna do with Zilla. He's been more than clear that he's not interested but you keep trying him.”

She smiled. “What are you talking about, Bronco? Him and I are just friends.”

“Barely,” he slid in quickly. “Whatever you're tryna do, just chill.”

“This match really should've been the main event. Don't you think so, Bronco?” She asked, turning to look at him. 

He turned to look back. “Did you hear me?”

“Did you hear me?”

“This not the time for games. Did you hear what I said?”

“I heard you but it sounds like to me one of two things or both are happening.”

He sucked his teeth, snarling at her. “What?”

“Either lil miss Moriah is worried that I can take her spot or you know Zilla wants me and you're trying to play mediator. Hmm so either way whatever you think I'm doing is working.”

“Girl, what the hell? Are you delusional? None of that is true.”

She shrugged, turning back to the match in time to see Zilla get illegally rolled up. “It's okay. I know you liked them together but it's bigger than you. You can't keep them together. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go get ready for my segment.”

Bronco stood dumbfounded as she walked away from him. He thought she would resist a little but accept what he said. Her reaction was puzzling to him but he realized Zilla was in way more trouble than he initially thought. 

“Oh my gosh, San. I am stuffed.” Tamara laughed softly rubbing her full belly. “You been hiding your cooking skills from me.”

Hassan smiled bashfully. “I wouldn't say hiding them, you just always volunteer to cook. Who am I to shut down your wants?”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Yeah well next time we stay in, you're cooking. And if you keep cooking like this, I won't ever leave.”

“Speaking of never leaving,” he paused to sip his wine, “I want this thing we're doing to be permanent. I don't want anybody else.”

Tamara raised a brow leaving onto the table, laughing softly. “This thing? You mean dating?”

“Yes that. What would you say to us making things official?”

No matter how she tried to fight it, a smile spread across her face and warmth spread through her body from the rush of happiness she felt. 

“I would say what took you so long.” She laughed at his playful frown. “But I would like that a lot actually. I know why you were hesitant, I get it but I am not her and you are not the person you were when you were with her.”

“You’re right, you’re right. I got you.”

“And as much as I know you’re going to hate this, I wanna meet Nadine.” 

He stared at Tamara for a moment wrestling with the thought in his mind. The women he’d dated previously had no desire to meet her after hearing about her from him and Moriah and after hearing conversations between the divorced couple. And even if they did have any desire to meet her, Hassan would not have it. Too much of a hassle.

Reaching across the table, Hassan took her hands into his, rubbing them lovingly with his thumbs. The action brought a smile to her face, she also knew there was some form of rejection to follow the gesture. 

“I really don’t see the need for that, T. Moriah isn’t a kid anymore, that would have been the only reason I would put you in that situation.” He explained softly.

“San … I know that you think that you’re protecting me by not allowing me to meet her and I appreciate that,” she squeezed his hands gently, “But you don’t need to do that. She needs to know that this is serious and I’m not going anywhere so she can let up on those unrealistic expectations she has. Give the final nail to the coffin that was your marriage.”

To say he was speechless would be an understatement. The calmness in her voice almost put him at ease, the fire in her eyes though, that told him she meant what she said and she was serious.

“I don’t think that it’s a good idea to put you in the direct line of unnecessary stress,” he chuckled hearing her huff, “Wait there’s a but. But this sounds very important to you and you do make a very good point so I will make it happen.”

Her smile has returned and grown even wider. “Great. When?”

“Soon, beautiful.”

“Aht,” she sassed, pulling her hands from his. “I’ve heard you use that ‘beautiful’ card with Moriah enough to know you’re placating me. Nope. I want an actual date and time.”

He laughed heartily, going to take a sip of his wine. “Alright, alright. How about next weekend?”

“Book the flight now.” She pressed.

“In the middle of dinner?” He asked slyly. Looking at both of their near empty plates, Tamara gives him a pointed look that makes him laugh and pull out his phone. “Alright, alright, Ms. Lady. Doing it now. You prefer early or late flights?”

“Early. Thank you.”

“Of course,” he responded lowly, his focus was on his phone. “Any other demands?”

“Yup, I have one more since you asked.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t tell her that we’re coming.”

Hassan’s eyes slowly looked up from his phone, putting his focus on her. “Don’t tell her?”

“Don’t tell her.” She repeated firmly.

After the show, Zilla and Bronco went to the hospital to check on their girlfriends. They sat in the waiting room until their girlfriends had a moment to talk. The emergency department was much busier at night than they thought.

“Listen before they get done, I gotta tell you something.” Bronco whispered, making Zilla frown.

“What? And why the hell is you whisperin’? Ain’t nobody over here.”

“Cause Toni got some good ass ears, bro. Ion need her to hear this shit and tell Rye.”

“Aight, I guess. What’s up?”

“I went to talk to Gia during your match. And excuse my language but that bitch delusional,” he whispered. “It's like the whole time I was talking she heard what she wanted to hear.”

He frowned at the thought. “What she say?”

“She said that either Rye knew she could take you or you want her and either way, what she was doing was working.”

“The hell? What you say to her to make her say that?” Zilla asked, pulling his buzzing phone from his pocket. 

“All I said was to chill out cause the shit wasn't gonna work and you made it clear you ain't want her.” Bronco recounted. “That's it but somehow she got that. She said it's bigger than me that I can't keep yall together.”

“The fuck? Now when Fat beat her ass, ion wanna hear shit.”

“Fucked up thing is, she prolly won't take that warning either. That bitch looney. Maybe you'll get lucky and they'll move her to main roster.”

Zilla shrugged. “That won't solve it. I gotta go there at some point.”

Bronco thought for a second then smiled. “I got it. Trick single, maybe we can talk her up to him and get him to get her attention. If she got her own man, she won't be worried about you.”

“You think it'll work?”

Bronco shrugged, “Don't hurt to try. Who texting you?”

Rolling his eyes, Zilla texted brothers back then sat the phone down again. “Ma, my brothers, and Josh.”

“Which one you rolling your eyes at? I know it ain't Ma.” Bronco joked.

“Nah, nah.” He smiled thinking about her. “It's Josh. Ever since we got into it at Jon house, he been textin me.”

“Oh yeah. You never told what yall got into it about.”

Zilla quickly responded to his mother’'s message. “He don't like Fat. He think that she gon end up like Ms. Nadine and that I should leave her for Gia or somebody.”

“He don't like Rye?” He asked with a frown. “That's strange as hell. She ain't shit like her moms from what I been seeing.”

“And that's what I was sayin. He kept going, then when he brought up kids, I snapped at him.” He shook his head thinking of it. “I promised Fat I wouldn't say anything about it but he pissed me off, I told them about the abortion and her having her tubes tied.”

“Damn you must've really been pissed off. He textin you to apologize?”

“Yeah but he still tryna get me to hear him out.” Zilla answered, shaking his head. “Anyway, though, we can talk to Trick tomorrow. Sooner we do that shit, sooner I get her the hell away from me.”

Bronco laughed, slapping hands with his friend. “Hell yeah. Cause I can’t deal with that shit too much longer.”

“Deal with what shit?” Toni asked.

She and Moriah entered the waiting room finally getting a break from the overflow of patients coming in. Bronco gave his friend an ‘I told you so’ look before they moved to hug their girlfriends. 

“What’s up, old lady?” Bronco joked, kissing her head.

She hit him in his stomach laughing. “I got your old lady. Answer my question.”

“You nosey as shit,” he laughed, “Doing extra shit in practice cause they keep messin’ up.”

“Mmhm and so are you.”

Zilla stood with his arms still wrapped around Moriah, hugging her tight, keeping his face in her neck. She giggled trying to get him to let go.

“Zay, that’s enough.”

He shook his head, still holding onto her.

Toni pinched the back of his neck making him hiss and let go. “Always bothering that girl. Stay off of her.”

“She don’t want me to stay off her, mane. Ask her.” He laughed, pulling Moriah back to him.

“Anyway,” Moriah called out to stop their brewing argument, “We been so busy, we didn’t even get to watch the show. How was it?”

“My match was good. His match was aight,” Bronco boasted playfully and they started to play fight. “Aight, aight, you got it, bro. You know she mean as hell and gon put us out.”

“Who you callin’ mean? I am not mean.” Moriah sassed with her hands on her hips.

“I mean you are a little bit mean, girl. Just a little.” Toni laughed, pinching her fingers together.

“You know he wasn’t talkin’ bout Fat. Fat mean as hell but she ain’t gon put us out.” Zilla corrected. “You put us out like four times already.”

Toni scoffed at his interruption. “And yet yall asses still somehow end up right back in here. Ima get yall banned from my ED.”

Bronco wrapped his arms around her, poking his lip out payfully. “You gon ban ya man? If you do that then I can’t make those trips up here that you like so we both gon miss out.”

Toni gasped, hitting his arm. “Why would you say that in front of them? Now his bad ass is about to try and come up here and do that.”

“My bad, baby.”

Zilla frowned again, preparing to give an unedited response to Bronco’s admission but Moriah put her hand over his mouth and pulled him away from the couple. When they were far enough away she took her hand down and folded her arms across her chest waiting for his response.

“You knew they was up here gettin’ busy, Fat?”

“Of course I did. She’s my best friend.”

“And you ain’t tell me? I coulda been slidin up here to see you too. But it’s cool I know now, I know what to do.” He grinned rubbing his hands together.

She shook her head, wagging her finger at him. “Nope, absolutely not. No. That’s why I didn’t tell you. You do not understand the meaning of quick and you do too much.”

“I told you I can try,” he laughed. “ When you get off, we can try then.”

“Boy when I get off, you’re gonna be getting ready to go to the PC. You are not about to blame me for you being late.”

“I ain’t gon be late, I promise. You been straight up here though?”

She nodded, taking a look around the now empty waiting room. “Yeah, I’m never volunteering to switch shifts for a week again. It’s Toni fault, she tricked me. She just didn’t wanna be here alone. Heffa.”

He chuckled, running his fingers through his growing hair. “She was gonna miss you and she knew you was gonna miss her. And she know you would acted like a brat the whole week yall was without each other, man.”

She scrunched her face at him. “You get on my nerves, always tryna make sense.”

“Love you too. But you know that I ain’t what I was askin’, Fat.”

“He hasn’t been bothering me. The good thing about night shift is that when I’m coming in, he is gone or almost off. He doesn’t even leave through the ED anymore. Whatever you and Bronco did, worked.”

“What you mean? We ain’t did nothin.”

She stared at him. “You and him keep saying that but that don’t make it true, Isayah. Me and Toni already know.”

He shrugged. “Whatever you say, bae.”

“Mmhm.That bitch had her hands on you tonight?”

Hearing her tone go from sweet and light to annoyed and heavy gave him pause. He stared at her for a moment trying to contain himself. Although he would never say it out loud especially not to Moriah but the territorial side of her turned him on. If he could see more of it and it wouldn’t fuck up her mood for too long he wouldn’t complain at all.

“What bitch?” He asked biting his lip.

“You know exactly what bitch I’m talkin about, Isayah. That frog eyed bitch.”

He brought his hand to his face rubbing it trying not to smile at her, folding his other arm across his chest. “What frog eyed bitch, Fat?”

Moriah moved closer to him, pointing her finger in the middle of his chest as she spoke. “The frog eyed bitch that thought I was your damn cousin. That one.”

Chuckling a bit, Zilla grabbed her hand bringing it to his lips to kiss it but she snatched it away. “You talkin’ bout Gia? Nah she ain’t put her hands on me, Fat. I ain’t even talk to her outside of the interview I had to do.”

“Mmm, if she know what I know she better keep her hands off you. I don’t wanna have to beat her ass but I will.”

“I know you will,” he admitted in a low voice. “You can take a break right now?”

“For what?” She asked, clearly still annoyed by the thought of Gia.

“So we can go talk real quick, Fat.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “No, Zay. We literally just talked about that. No, there isn’t shit quick about what you wanna talk about.”

“I promise, the way I feel it’ll be quick.”

Holding his stare for a few moments, Moriah nodded and went over to Toni and whispered in her ear. “We’ll be right back. Don’t start.”

Toni nodded, giving her a slight push and went back to her conversation with Bronco, who shared a quick look with Zilla.

Putting her hand in his, Moriah let him lead her out of the emergency department to the lower level of the parking garage to his parked car, both of them getting in the backseat. Not wasting any time, Zilla laid her down in the backseat, his lips finding hers and his hands finding the waistband of her scrub pants, helping her pull them along with her panties down. He leaned up for a moment to pull her shoes off and then her bottoms off completely and tossed them into his front seat going back down to kiss and bite her neck.

“Zay,” she moaned softly, wrapping her arms and legs around him, wanting him closer. A squeal escaped her feeling his cold fingers moving lazily up and down her slit, purposefully not touching her clit. Her hips moved in tandem with his fingers as she tried to control the sounds she made. Knowing she was struggling with keeping as quiet as possible, he captured her lips in another searing kiss. As they kissed, he withdrew his hand from her to free himself from the confinement of his briefs and basketball shorts. He teased her for a few moments, gathering as much of her essence as he could before plunging into her bottoming out immediately. Moriah broke their kiss, her back arching as she gasped loudly at the welcomed intrusion. 

“Baby, baby, baby,” she mewled out. 

Sitting up a bit, he pulled her closer, angling her hips up smirking when she cursed under her breath. “You good?” He asked. His hands caressed her thighs and hips while he waited for her answer. 

She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah.”

Now having the confirmation he needed, he tapped into his earlier feelings. The annoyance and anger in her eyes that lit a different type of fire within him. He pistoned his hips into her, lifting her thighs so they rested on his forearms making sure she couldn’t go anywhere. His thrusts rocked her body making her cry out to him.

“What you called her, Fat? What you say about her?” His voice was low and thick.

“Umm … fuck … I.” Her voice trailed off into incoherent words mixed with her moans. She brought her hand up to the window for leverage and to keep her head from hitting the door anymore than it already had. “That frog eyed bitch better … shit, Zay … she better keep her hands off you.”

“Yeaaaah,” he drug out lowly chasing his approaching release. “That’s that shit. What you gon do if she don’t?”

Feeling knots forming in her stomach and her body starting to tingle, she reached between them to push at his stomach. “Too much, Zay. Fuck,” she whined breathlessly. 

He smacked her hand away from him then rubbed her clit. “Watch out. Answer my question, girl.”

Moriah twitched beneath him, writhing trying to get away from him with nowhere to go. “Beat her ass,” she yelled out feeling him graze her spot. The realization wasn’t lost on him, he targeted it not sure how much longer he could hold out. “Zay, please,” she begged pulling him down to her.

“I know. I’m witchu.” He mumbled against her lips. “Shit, you want me to pull out?” The thought to put on a condom crossed his mind much too late. Even though there was a small chance that she could get pregnant, he still wore them occasionally.

She shook her head, bringing her hips up to meet his. “Cum inside me.” 

At her words, Zilla lost control, his thrusts switching from measured and controlled to erratic and sloppy, driving them both to orgasm. He shuddered, still thrusting as the both of them rode out their high. He collapsed gently on top of her, his face in her neck kissing her there. After a few, he lifted his head to smile at her. 

“Zilla told you that he could be quick.”

“Boy,’ she laughed, hitting his shoulder, “You got lucky.”

He laughed and kissed her neck and face again. “Shit, we both got lucky.”

“Swear you get on my nerves, Zay. Get off me, I gotta go back to work.”

Leaning up off of her, he eased out of her both of them hissing at the loss of contact. He reached up to turn on the courtesy light. His eyes went from her face to between them, using his index and middle finger to push his cum that started to leak out of her back in making her stare at him.

“What I do, man?” He laughed, grabbing the baby wipes out of the middle console.

She slid up a bit to lean against the door. “You know exactly what you did.”

He shrugged playfully as he took a few wipes out to clean her up and then himself and tucked it back into his briefs and shorts. Grabbing her discarded bottoms, he passed them to her then got out to give her space to put them back on. By the time he came back from the trash can, she was standing outside his car tying her shoes up. When she was finished he held his hand out to her so they could walk back to the hospital.

“So you gon let me try again when you get off or no?” He asked once they got to the waiting room.

“Maybe but I get to be on top this time.”

“Whatever you want, Fat. Zilla only purpose is to please you.” He answered lowly as he brought her into a hug, his hands finding and squeezing her ass.

Toni pushed them apart, shooing him away with her hand. “Alright, that’s enough. I’m gonna need an insulin shot if yall keep that cute stuff up.”

“Come on na, T. You coulda waited a few minutes. I was saying bye,” he laughed.

She looked at her watch then pointed at him. “I gave you fifteen minutes. That was more than enough.”

Moriah and Bronco laughed watching them go back and forth. The two of them argued like brother and sister every time they see each other and then would be the best of friends if it meant going against Moriah or Bronco. 

The phone rang and rang making Nadine’s nerves worse by the minute. With the stress of her conversation with Hassan and the shambles her relationship with Moriah was reduced to, she needed to take her mind off of it. Her head had been pounding from the off and on crying she had done after Hassan hung up on her. The life that she had built up for herself wasn’t turning out the way she had planned. Their marriage had been perfect until Hassan decided to take the job she always pulled him away from. Art and design was great and everything but it was unpredictable, she couldn’t handle the unpredictability of it. Not when he had a family to provide for. She knew he was an expert with numbers and convinced him to go into finance when they were in college but instead of him completely dropping art he had a double major. 

Him in finance and her in speech-language pathology. Their life was great, they could afford the lifestyle she needed and take care of their daughter while still being comfortable. And when Moriah met Zilla, she got the friend she never knew she needed or was missing. She had her husband, her baby, her career, the lifestyle that she dreamed of and a friend. It was all a dream until it wasn’t. 

“Nadine … you there?”

She laughed a little. “Sorry, sorry. My mind is just all over the place right now.”

The low chuckle flowed through the phone. “Is it now? My schedule is clear for the next three days.”

“That sounds lovely but I just don’t feel like the hassle of the airport and all those people in there and on the plane.”

“I wouldn’t put you on a commercial flight. You know better. I’ll send my private jet to get you.”

She snorted. “Private? Since when do you have a private jet? And didn’t tell me.”

“It’s a new purchase. You’ll be the first person I’ll have on it.”

For the first time all day, a slick smile graced her face. “What time should I be ready?”

“I’ll have a car there in about three hours to get you. That should be enough time for the jet to get there. Is that long enough or do you need more time?”

“Nope, that sounds perfect.”

“Good. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my favorite girl,” he cooed into the phone.

“It has, I’m sure we’ll make up for lost time.” She agreed, finally relaxing. “I’m gonna go pack. Thank you, DJ.”

“You’re welcome.”