#not gonna tag this i think. so if you see it you see it

[tbaluver]

AH-AH-APHRODISIAC?!- The Love And DeepSpace Men

pairings in order: xavier x fem! reader, zayne x fem! reader, rafayel x fem! reader, sylus x fem! reader, caleb x fem! reader summary: you and your lover accidentally eat chocolates with aphrodisiacs on valentine's day night tags: small plot, p in v , desperate hot n needy a/n: hihi my lovelies! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂)⸝♡ here are my (late) chocolate gift to you for valentine's day! this one is a lil rushed bc i wanted to have a fluff and a smut written for this holiday so apologies! thank you to my beta reader @ilovemitsuya mwah ily (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ anyways i hope you all enjoy reading ! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ cr. to the banners cafekitsune ! any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He closes his eyes, parting his lips slightly as you gently place the chocolate in his mouth, watching him savor the taste as he guesses what flavor the luxury Valentine’s chocolate box. With each correct guess, a kiss is exchanged but whoever gets it wrong has to eat another chocolate that they didn’t like. As the game progresses, each sweet kiss becomes more lingering and more urgent. The box sat untouched and the game remained forgotten as you both have something better to eat in mind.

-

It’s hard to think about how much exactly chocolates you and Xavier ate when you he’s fucking into your swollen pussy. He groans, spreading your legs to expose your wet cunt, your inner thighs coated with his cum. Your clit glistening in the moonlight as he circles it softly with the sensitive head of his cock, dragging it up and down. It hasn’t even been a minute until your bodies are set ablaze again, growing intense with every passing second you two aren’t connected. You both were so needy for each other, your senses completely heightened than any time you two were intimate. His hot girthy dick stretches you out so deliciously that it's gonna leave an imprint on your stomach. 

Both your bodies are on fire as he desperately thrusts in and out of you as hard and fast as he can, tangled limbs just holding on to whatever you can hold as long as you’re touching each other.

His cock, pistons in and out of your weeping cunt at a relentless pace, both your visions fogging up with no thoughts other than relieving each other. A chorus of obscene noises spill out of both of you, all of it incoherent. Remnants of his cum seeps out of you due to the pacing of his thrusts, your cunt mercilessly filled.

You’re clamping down on his cock with so much desperation as you feel your orgasm approaching. They way you’re creaming on his cock, clenching around him with trembling legs, was sight only he can see and hear. He planned to make you see the stars but he saw them shining in your eyes instead, the tears welling up your eyes as he sets the animalistic pace over and over again until the burning heat dies down between you both.

Zayne:

Valentine's day, the day where you exchange and share one or two or maybe the whole box of chocolates together. You and Zayne swapped a few sweets and chocolate gifts but on your end, you ended up letting him indulge in his sweet tooth, giving him more than just a couple boxes. Neither of you gave much thought to the luxury box cover when you picked it up. One by one, each chocolate disappears from the box as you pick one up, taking a bite as you pass him the other half as he does the same for you.  It didn’t long for the sweetness of the chocolate to go away, the heat in each other’s bodies growing every second as you both craved for something much more sweeter, abandoning the box of chocolates.

-

Clearly one or five more rounds wasn’t enough for this burning ache to go away. Minutes turned into hours as he poured his cum into you, dripping down to his balls and down to your thighs. No amount of position could put an end to the heat that seemed to crawl deeper into your core every second he pulled away from you. Your body temperatures together were so high it turned you two into a muddled mess. How could he possibly ignore his lover sobbing for him, begging for more, when he needed you just as much as you needed him?

He hovers over you, trying his best not to crush you in his hold. The once composed and restrained doctor has vanished tonight, both your senses completely heightened as he desperately explores the familiar path of your body. 

His delicate, practiced and precise hands from years of surgery, rip and tug at your clothing, the urgency from the heat building in him. Each one of Zayne’s and your clothing were carelessly thrown across the house, leaving a messy trail to your shared bedroom. Marks and scratches cover his body as you try to reach for more, as if the hold you had on him wasn’t enough.

Your lips constantly chase after each other, pulling away just to catch your breaths. He rolls his hips against yours, the room filled with the sounds of your combined moans and the rhythm of your entangled bodies. His cock makes you spill sounds that you didn’t even know could come out of your mouth. Chest pressed against each other, everything had your head spinning, both of you full of primal need. His cock strokes all the right places inside you, his heavy balls smacking wetly against your cunt with every deep thrust he gives you. His thick pink sensitive head of his cock rubs your sweet spot so perfectly, sending waves of pleasure over your body. Hours and hours with no other thoughts than anything other than making you feel good and making that heat go away was his only priority.

Rafayel:

He bought you the most expensive box of chocolates, not looking at the brand or the printing on the packages but because he saw it was filled with pictures of assortment of sweets you’d love. He thought they were overpriced because of the luxury design and the fact that it was for Valentine’s day but with each bite, he found himself caving in for more. You both felt so warm, the warmth surging through your bodies that traveled down to your lower half. The more you both indulged, the more you both seemed to need something that was a much more sweet temptation.

-

You both were so hot, more than you two have ever been that the heat was enough to stop the cold weather from making you shiver. His eyes clenched shut as hot pants slip past his pretty lips, his mind fogging up as he feels your warm cunt wrap around him so perfectly, like always. 

The only thing in his mind is you, your sweet cunt squeezing his cock like heaven sent and how you roll your hips against him oh so right. 

He thinks you’re truly a work of art, filled with marks of him. You look so perfect whether it’s in front of him or behind him, painting such a pretty picture with your face in all the right angles as your face contorted in absolute pleasure.

You both roll and shift on the blanket, finding the perfect position that hits the right angles to relieve the throbbing heat between your legs. Everytime you take his buckets of his white warm seed, the burning ache always seems to come back. There is not a single part of your body that isn’t drenched from your mixed sweat, arousal or his cum.

Did someone bewitch you two? Did they think- Nevermind, he can’t think properly when you’re clenching down on him like this. He feels the way you flutter around him. Every squeeze of your cunt as he drags his cock along your walls, every drip of your arousal that coats his length, is as if he was truly part of you. 

His skin tingles irritably, aching desperately for your touch even after a second without it. Even the small sounds that escape past your lips lure him in like a sailor listening to a siren's song.  His thrusts grow faster, his hips slamming over and over again against yours as if his life duty was to repopulate Lemuria.

Sylus:

The night grew uncomfortably hot for you two, the ache between your legs was relentless and impossible to ignore. The cold breeze from the new city you two traveled too for a small getaway was not helping at all. You two didn’t drink much but the chocolates you were both gifted, disappeared between you both. Each bite melted in your mouths but soon the warmth settled over you both. The anticipation back to the suite was palpable, both of you greeted by a romantic rose trail scattered across the floor that led to a heart-shaped arrangement on the shared bed. As much as you wanted to appreciate this, you both seek- craved a remedy only you two could provide each other.

-

It didn’t take that long for that rose petal trail to be forgotten, scattered and kicked aside as you both stumble towards the bed, your lips hungrily chase after each other. Needy hands rip each other’s clothes off while your blazing bodies smash against each other, the rose petals jump off the bed once it feels the weight shift of you two fall onto it. He groans into your lips, pulling away to leave a wet trail down your neck, collecting the expensive perfume he’s gotten you on his tongue.

Sylus loves to take it slow with you, his favorite thing to do is explore your body as if he hasn’t before. But tonight, tonight his movements are rushed, desperate to see you, to feel you. Pure love still in his eyes, needy hands never really able to linger on spot for too long. No other thoughts but just you and how his body craves more and more.

The tip of his cock pushes his hot sticky mess back into your sopping cunt, groans escaping past his lips. Your walls were so sweet, so velvety, so intoxicating that the thought of those chocolates has given him an addiction from how much he can’t seem to pull away from you, brushes away from his mind.. How overpowering his deep thrusts would be, not caring at all if this bed broke or how the building shook.

His thick cock engulfed into the warmth of your clenching walls, his large hands intertwined with yours as he swallows all the sweet and pretty sounds that escape past your lips with the shove of his tongue, taking him deeper than you possibly could. His balls ram into your remorselessly, placing hot wet kisses down your neck. Your words are jumbled due to his cock pumping and out of you relentlessly from your heat as if it were to split you in half.

Your orgasm hits you hard, his following right after. His face contorts into pure pleasure, one of the best images to grace your eyes and ears as you breathlessly chant his name. While you take your time catching your breath, he’d let his fingertips graze your arm, hand cupping the side of your face while his thumb rubs along your cheek, feeling his dick twitch inside you again.

Caleb:

Dinner was going by smoothly, key word was, until something shifted in both your bodies. The special Valentine’s Day meal he prepared for you was devoured, your bright smile whenever you bit into the food was proof enough that each bite hit the spot. Until you both got to the desert, the chocolate covered strawberries recipe he found online he rushed while prepping dinner. A few bites in, the room seemed to grow hotter, your appetites shifting and craved something much more enticing.

-

He’s already a whimpering mess once you pull away from his lips, feeling like the distance between you two were a million miles apart. The touch of your needy hands to try and rip his clothes off was painfully slow. He needed more and he knew you did too. 

What was in that recipe? How much did he eat? His dick is so hard he thinks it might just explode before he even has a chance to feel your soaked walls. His desperation was so palpable that his needy whines ring in your ear as he slips it in, ripping off your panties beforehand while babbling ‘sorry sorry need you please please’ and that he’ll promise to get you new ones next time. You barely catch any of his words, your mind fogging with each drag of his cock against your sweet spot. Breathless praises for you slip past his lips, fanning your ear with his warm breath, making your velvety walls flutter and tighten around him in response.

His hips increase in speed and power, his name breathlessly escaping your lips as he knocks the air out of your lungs. His cock rubbed your walls so deliciously, making you forget the heat for a second, just for a second.

Spurts of his hot white cum into your body was not enough to please the ache in your bodies. Caleb only whines your name, pounding into your poor pussy with a merciless pace. He feels so guilty knowing he takes his time, he always takes his time with you but he’s chasing a high so desperately that his body is on autopilot, moaning pathetically into your ears. The sounds of wet skin and skin fill the kitchen for hours and hours, the special dinner he planned in mind growing cold but the one he held in his embrace growing hotter by the minute.

a/n extra: hihi again! here is my fluff valentines day headcanons and kinda where the scene in the story takes place: Valentine's Day

my past works: masterlist pg. 1 , pg. 2

[drgnflyteabox]

daddy cool ⋆˙⟡

john price x fem!reader summary: “I’m a producer,” he says, taking a long puff of his cigar, waiting, waiting, “and I scout talent.” ↪or the one in which hairy muscle daddy john price asks you to show him your skills disco style tags/warnings: 70s clubbing, body hair is a central theme, scent kink, daddy kink, deepthroating, rough oral (m), cigars, some alcohol, manipulation if you squint,vaginal fingering + sex, a bit of exhibition kink but not really at all (one line), 'little' not used as a size indicator, dom/sub, oral (f), tiny gape mention

“I think he’s interested in you,” Debbie whisper-screams in your ear. It’s hard to hear her over the boom of the drums, over the four on the floor beat and soaring voices. 

“Really?”

“Girl,” she laughs, incredulous. You look over your shoulder and sure enough he’s fixing you with a stare hot enough to burn through steel.

He’s flanked by two others, but you hardly notice them. You’re staring right into the deep V of his open shirt, at the fur peeking out of it, at the pink of his tongue as it swipes his bottom lip under his mustache. Sinful.

The booth he’s sitting in is draped with orange translucent curtains, creating some illusion of privacy. No overhead lights, either, just a soft cave and dark burgundy leather. Perfect for a bear like him.

“Should I go over there?” you whisper-scream back, curling closer to Debbie, “he’s a bonafide stud.”

She laughs, throwing her long hair over her shoulder, “yeah he is, and he’s looking at you, girl.”

You peek again. He’s smiling this time, like someone who knew you’d look twice. Beyond his shirt, his pants are so goddamn tight you can see almost everything. Christ, who let him out of the house looking like that?

“I’m gonna go over,” you say before you can stop yourself.

A saxophone disco beat booms through the club, thrumming right through you down to your toes, which you move to dance your way to him. Debbie laughs behind you, disappearing into the crowd.

Your hips go side to side, your teeth bite your bottom lip, and you fix him with what you hope is a clear message; you’re hot.

He stays exactly where he is. There’s a smugness about him now, the same smugness you saw when you looked twice.

You can’t really blame him for it. Someone that looks like that is bound to expect attention, desire.

God, he’s just your type. A quiet kind of arrogance, one arm slung over the back of the booth as he lifts a cigar up to his mouth and puffs. Lazily, like a big lion that knows he doesn’t have to hunt to get his food.

“Hello, love,” he says slowly when you get close enough. You’re still bouncing to the music, but you lean forward to hear him better.

“Interested in me, are you?” you’re going for a coy, simpering kind of approach. Something about him makes you want to lay it on thick, want to seduce. To preen a little.

His knuckles are dark in the lighting, hairy and tough like he works with his hands, which you catch as he pats the booth beside him. 

You hadn’t even noticed his companions leaving.

“Saw you dancing,” he lifts a glass from the table, dark liquid, his mustache getting wet, “thought you might be interested, too.”

“You thought right,” you slide in beside him, the leather seat cool even through your tight bootcut pants. You tilt your knees towards him, lifting an elbow to match his on the back of the booth.

Reds, yellows, oranges dance on his skin. The occasional sparkle of the disco ball peeks through, but mostly it filters through the orange booth curtains and spreads into an archipelago of little bright spots. This lighting agrees with him, accentuates the best parts, makes them look darker and more defined. You’d feel like a pervert looking down his shirt if he wasn’t also doing the same to you.

“Name’s John, love,” and when you tell him yours he says, “that’s fitting.”

“So, what do you do?” boring, typical– but it’s all you’ve got. You’re surprised you can get words out at all with the drool pooling in your mouth. This close, you can see how his shirt strains where his shoulders move. A little too small, but it’s probably on purpose.

Should be illegal, honestly.

His eyes crinkle in the corners. He’s the kind of guy whose entire face changes when he smiles, who looks disarmingly more approachable that way.

“I’m a producer,” he says, taking a long puff of his cigar, waiting, waiting, “and I scout talent.”

“Talent?” you cross one leg over the other, trilling internally with satisfaction when you see his eyes fall to your thighs.

You know you aren’t being subtle in the least– and you aren’t trying to be. But you won’t say anything outright, not yet, not while the anticipation feels this tasty.

The booth isn’t private, but it is insulated. The music is loud, but not too loud, just enough that it thrums through you, that you can hear him. Anita Ward croons in your ear, encouraging you. He can ring your bell, that’s for sure.

“That’s right,” he puffs again. The smell makes you lightheaded.

“Moviestars, you mean?” you roll your ankle around, watching him watch you, wondering if he likes the polish colour you picked. 

You like that he’s visibly affected; licking his lips, that meaty hand climbing higher up his thigh.

“Something like that, love,” he smiles again, leans back in the booth and launches a counter attack to your leggy flirtations – he spreads those legs, feet pointed out, hunched just so that his belly starts poking out of those sinfully tight pants.

Motherfucker.

Looking back up at him, his eyes are crinkled at you, head tilted forward. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Which movies have you produced?” you lean your head on your hand, looking at him through your lashes, “anything I’ve seen?”

“I hope so,” he hums. His eyes flit down to your feet again, up to your midriff, then back to your eyes– it’s hot, but it’s also not just a flirtation. He’s assessing, “have you seen Swan Lady? The Nun and the Two Vikings?”

You frown, “no, I haven’t heard of either.”

“How about Call of Duty: Servicing the Captain?”

Ah, it clicks. Your eyebrows go up, into your hairline, “you make pornos?”

“Aye, smart girl,” he gruffs.

Pornos, huh. You could laugh– he looks the part. A little sleazy, unabashed. Masculine not to the point of parody but it’s close. The ‘stache is in style, but in combination with everything else is just the cherry on top.

You only have one question, “you don’t star in any?”

“I prefer working behind the scenes,” something about the way he says behind feels filthy.

John tells all. He does scout, finds girls who want to have a good time (like you), and gently (or so he says) nudges them in front of the camera. I can always sniff ‘em out, he says. The ones that’ll do well on film, that have star quality.

“How can you tell?” you ask, lips pulling on your straw. John has ordered you a tequila sunrise.

You can’t help but trace the skin of his neck with your eyes, roving at the bob of his Adam's apple as he explains. Girls who can take the gloves off, so to speak. Says he can tell by the way they move, how free they are with their bodies.

A little dubious, but it’s honestly doing it for you. You wonder what he saw when you danced up to him, if the sway of your body was free, liberated.

Doesn’t take long at all for him to invite you out either way. John puts his hand on your knee and squeezes, gets real close, gruffs that his place is nearby.

“What do you say, sweetheart?” and of course the only answer is yes, please.

Boney M. soars around you as you follow him out, your hand holding his, your fingers stroking the hairs on his knuckles. 

She’s crazy for her daddy!

On the drive over, he keeps that big paw on your thigh, squeezing almost subconsciously. Just the flex of his fingers.

You widen your knees, hoping for that rough palm to slide upwards, glancing at John as he drives one-handed. Not your first rodeo going home with a man from the disco, but it sure is the first time you’ve felt so keyed up about it.

He’s huge, takes up an absurd amount of room in the car, knee knocking into yours. He even drives sexy, so sure and in control.

“You think I could be in one of your movies?” you say, impish, looking to provoke.

John glances at you for just a second too long, too intense. You can tell he’s picturing you in front of the cameras.

“That what you want?”

“Just picturing it,” you simper, shifting your knee to deliberately touch him again. His fingers flex against your thigh again, jaw moving.

The air is warm, breezy, lights passing by like twinkling firebugs. You roll your window down, smiling at the feeling.

“Oh you're picturing it, are you? Is that making you wet, sweetheart?”

Fuck. It certainly is now.

“Only if you can be my co-star.”

“Is that right?” he laughs, low and deep. His hand climbs higher, “‘fraid I’m just the recruiter, but I’ll have to do a quality test.”

“Quality test?”

“Mm,” he hums, “need to make sure you’re ready for the camera, don’t I? You think you’ve got star quality, then prove it.”

Your panties are sticky.

“I can do that,” you breathe.

“Yeah? Can you prove you can show off your star quality for me, sweetheart?” his fingers slide, achingly slow, to the gusset of your pants, “that you can look into that camera and show the world you’re a good girl?”

They press against you, right up against your clit through the fabric. You fight to stay still, to not come across like you’re desperate, but god it’s hard. You ache.

“Mhm,” you breathe, subtly tilting your hips forward as he idly pets your pussy.

“Not an answer,” he says firmly. Butterflies dance in your stomach, the air slowly being siphoned out, leaving you hot and bothered. John is barely affected, it seems, driving still, gliding through the night.

“Sorry,” you swallow, “I can do that, daddy.”

“Much better.”

“Still want to prove it to me, love?” he moves to a glass cabinet, pulling out a little box. It opens with a click, revealing a neat row of thick cigars.

“Yes,” you stand in the middle of his living room, appreciating the atmosphere he’s made; low lighting, oranges, reds everywhere. Brown leather and the heady smell of cigar smoke, of leather polish and an incense-y kind of musk.

He walks back towards you, brand new cigar between his fingers, steps heavy on the carpet. You’re made aware of the height difference when he stands right in front of you, looking down not unkindly.

Your skin prickles at his gaze, the same one from the club; that assessment. Like he’s measuring you, testing you, scanning you.

John leans forward, breath puffing lightly across your face. He smells like his house does, only there’s a bit of whiskey mixed in.

You can’t help but squirm just a little, thighs rubbing together, both to relieve the pulsing ache of your pussy and that it’s impossible to stay composed under that gaze.

“Drop down,” he says finally, “to your knees, sweetheart.”

From your knees, you get a good fucking look at those tight pants– at the bulge in them. The hair on his chest sticks out a little, too, peeking at you from above. Hot. So hot.

“Comfortable?”

“Yes, daddy,” you bite your lip again.

“Keep those hands down, alright?” he leans to the side and picks up a cigar lighter, watching you as he lights up.

John stands over you, new cigar lit, plumes of smoke drifting from his fingers. His expression is neutral, though he hums in a pleased way as he strokes the softness of your cheek.

“Take me out,” he commands.

You lean forward with your mouth, unable to resist giving him a good long sniff before you pull at his zipper with your teeth. He smells good, musky and strong, a little cologne there but mostly it’s natural.

When your teeth gently take his briefs, pulling, he cups the back of your head with a big hand and strokes your hair.

“Are you going to take it all, sweetheart? Right down your throat?”

You let his cock flop out of his underwear, heavy. The bush surrounding it makes your mouth water. It looks so good, long and a little curved, bouncing as if it’s teasing you.

You nod finally, hands squeezed into fists in your lap just the way he asked, “yes, daddy.”

“That’s my girl. Are you going to give daddy’s cock a little kiss first?”

You lean forward, lips pursed, planting a little kiss on the mushroom head of his cock. Though you ache to lick your lips, to taste him, you wait.

“That’s a good little girl,” he murmurs, “open your mouth.”

You do, holding your tongue out.

He grips the base, holding his cock up, tapping your tongue with the head. You almost whine, before he grips your head firmer and holds you still so he can slide the entire length of that monster right to the back of your throat.

Your nose hits his pubic bone, buried in the coarse hairs there, overwhelmed, hands balling into fists.

“That’s right,” he grunts, “hold it right there, sweetheart, show me you’ve got what it takes.”

God, he’s all the way in, a perfect fit. You try to stay still, anchoring yourself to him, to his palm, to the possibility of hearing good girl.

You gag a little, coughing around him, tears burning at your eyes as drool plip plops onto your chest.

Finally, he pulls out, stroking your hair, “good girl, such a good girl. Ready?”

“Yes,” you garble around the heady of his cock, clit swollen and needy, hands pressing hard into your thighs, “please fuck my face, daddy.”

He does, his pistoning, fucking your mouth like it’s a cunt. His hand cradles the back of your head, pushing you, hips moving, grunting when he’s not taking the occasional puff of his cigar.

You throb in your panties, body scorching hot, gagging every so often around the thick meat of John’s cock. Drool falls in viscous strings, tears following, the world dropping away. 

Nothing else but the slide of his cock in and out of your mouth exists, matters.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he pants raggedly.

You have no idea how long he lasts, only that when he’s finished you're an absolute mess. Wet faced and panting.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, wiping the tears from your cheeks with his rough thumbs. You look up at him through your clumped lashes, mouth open, “did so well for me, hm?”

“Thank you, daddy,” your voice is a little gravelly, but not painful.

John pulls you up with a hand at your bicep, walking you down a hallway off his living room and towards an open door. 

It’s his bedroom– and it’s decorated exactly as you’d imagined it.

The bed is huge, kingsized with a radio inlay and a thick, padded headboard that extends all around the mattress in a kind of cradle. His sheets are silk, dark, and dark orange.

“Nice digs,” you laugh, “you sure you aren’t a pornstar?”

He laughs behind you, setting his lit cigar into the ashtray on the bedside table. He slowly strips out of his clothes, getting totally naked. Then he slides in, and leans back.

“Give me a show, sweetheart.”

You hum, swaying again. You aren’t a pro at this kind of stuff, but it’s fun regardless to pull your shirt up and over your head like you’re a dirty dancer.

“Like this, daddy?”

John hums.

You slowly slide your pants down, turning so he can watch your ass move, kicking them away. You hear the slick sounds of him jerking his cock as you do.

“Should I take my panties off?” you ask, thumbs slipping into the elastic.

“Yes, take them off,” he grunts, “turn around.”

You do, then slowly slip your panties off. He licks his bottom lip again, quick.

“Come here.”

You slide onto the bed, on your knees, then crawl forward until you’re beside him, where he pushes you to lay on your side.

His heavy palm finds the naked skin of your hip, squeezing, “still want to show me your star power, sweetheart?”

“Yes, daddy,” you’re back in it, eyes half lidded. Your pussy is making a wet spot on your thighs, “I wanna show you.”

He pushes you to your back, slaps your thighs until you open your legs and hold them out. Then he pauses, hand at the junction of your thigh and hip, thumb inching towards your pussy.

“Look how wet you are, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

You clench, tilting your hips up. Your clit throbs.

“Ah ah, get back down,” he tuts.

Your ass touches the bed again, hips forced down by sheer willpower. His thumb finally reaches you, pulling aside your pussylip to gaze at your wetness.

It gushes out of you, and you’re sure he can see the way your hole clenches.

“Desperate little cunt, isn't she?” he uses his other hand, two two fingers coming to pull the hood of your clit up and just watch as it jumps needily, “awe, poor thing.”

“Please, daddy,” you could cry, “please, touch me.”

“Touch where, love? Touch this needy little clit?”

“Yes, please!”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he abandons holding you open to bring his thumb to your exposed clit, rubbing in circles. You shout, a tremor immediately beginning. It’s too much and not enough at once, electric and icy-hot.

Then he slips those fingers inside you, slow and testing at first, but when he realizes just how wet and soft you are he curls them inside you deeply and oh, fuck, your eyes roll back into your head.

“That’s the spot, that’s it,” he grunts, shaking you, taking you apart.

John only fingers you long enough to let your wetness spill out of you, wetting your thighs, soaking his fingers– until you’re ready for his cock.

“You’re ready,” he lays the length of it against your pussy for a moment, letting your swollen lips hug his length, before he shifts back and nudges the head at your hole, “yeah, you’re ready for it.”

He stuffs you fucking full. You’ve never been so stuffed in your life, thankful for his diligent attention earlier or you might be really feeling the weight of him.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, back arching, nipples rubbing against his chest hair. It sparks pleasure from your tits right down your cunt, body aflame, hands scratching through the hair at his back.

It’s like fucking a bear, or a werewolf. He’s relentless, too, without mercy. Plows into you hard and long, thrusts measured, never faltering.

John fucks like a pornstar, there’s no doubt about it. He takes up so much space on top of you that without his arms holding him up you worry about being crushed– you crave it, too.

“Good fucking girl,” he snarls, lip curling, mustache going with it, “want to be on camera, do ya? Let me hear you.”

You let loose, mouth open in one long drawn out sound, interposed only by the gasps you let out each time he hits you deep.

You tilt your head back, bearing your throat, taking each heavy thrust and crying out with them, squeezing around him.

“I’m gonna give it all to you, sweetheart, fuck,” he snaps his hips faster now, “and you’re gonna take it all like a star.”

You nod desperately, feeling his pubes each time he thrusts to the hilt, wet with your juices. You’re so fucking close, one breath to your clit and you’d lose your mind.

He straightens, hands going to your hips, tightening, as he snaps one, two, three times and tenses–

His head snaps back, neck bulging with veins as he comes, teeth bared in a growl as he curses, “fuck, good girl, that’s right– good fucking pussy–”

Hot come shoots inside, heating you up further, making you whine with frustration and satisfaction both.

When the taut line of his body relaxes and he pulls out, a flood of come following him, he slides to his stomach and spreads you open with his thumbs.

“Let daddy make it up to you, sweetheart,” he murmurs to your pussy, “he’s not usually so selfish.”

John looks down first. Your pussy is swollen, well-fucked, and you can feel a slight gape.

“Poor little pussy,” he murmurs, then seals his mouth over your clit until you fall apart.

“You sure you aren’t a pornstar?” your cheek is pressed to his chest, basking in the furriness, arm and leg thrown over his body.

He laughs, “I’m sure, sweetheart. But I will say–” he pauses to lean down and kiss the corner of your mouth, mustache still damp, “you’ve definitely got star quality.”

[urmum-lovesme]

Dad!Rafe and baby Cameron's first laugh...

The big couch in the living room of Tannyhill had become their favourite spot for family time. Their baby girl was stretched out on the soft cushions, kicking her legs happily, her tiny fists waving in the air. Y/n lay on one side of her, propped up on her elbow, her head resting in her hand as she gently wiggled the baby’s foot around in the air playfully, capturing her daughter's attention. Rafe was on the other side, lying on his side with his head resting on his palm, watching his two girls with an easy grin. The late afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting golden streaks across the room, and the sound of soft baby coos filled the air.

“She’s been kicking like crazy today,” Y/n murmured, her fingers gently brushing over the baby’s tummy. 

“I think she’s practising for her first marathon.”

“What do you mean? She’s gonna be a soccer player like her daddy.”

Rafe chuckled, reaching out to gently poke the baby’s round cheek. Y/n rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her amusement. 

“A soccer player? Have you even played since high school?”

“My girl’s got natural talent.”

Rafe rolled his eyes at Y/n playfully before he shot back confidently. The baby let out a tiny, high-pitched squeal, earning both their attention, “She’s clearly disagreeing with you,” Y/n teased, brushing her fingers over the baby’s hand.

Rafe looked down at his daughter with a mock frown as he spoke out, “Oh, yeah?” 

She stared up at him with wide, curious eyes, her little lips forming a tiny ‘o’ as she took in his every move. “Patience, babe. She’s warming up,” Rafe replied, undeterred. He gently lifted their baby’s shirt to expose her soft, round tummy, he leaned forward and rubbed his nose gently against the baby’s belly and blew a loud raspberry. The sound echoed through the room, and while the baby squirmed in surprise, her face remained stubbornly neutral. Y/n giggled, giving him a playful nudge. 

“Guess she’s not impressed by your moves, Rafe.”

“Oh, come on,” Rafe said, feigning offence as he straightened up. “She was totally holding it in, weren't you babygirl? She’s just making daddy work for it.”

“Let me try,” Y/n said, wiggling her fingers toward the baby’s ribs. She leaned in close, her voice soft and sweet as she cooed, “Are you going to laugh for mommy, huh? Are you? Let me see that smile!” She tickled her side gently, but the baby only blinked up at her, lips forming a tiny pout.

Rafe laughed out, “Tough crowd.”

“I don’t know where she gets it from,” Y/n said sarcastically, pretending to glare at him, though the smile on her lips gave her away.

“Alright, tag team it is” 

Rafe declared, leaning in again. The two of them spent the next few minutes trying every trick they could think of- more raspberries, silly faces, exaggerated voices. Every time they thought they were close, the baby would let out a little squeal or a happy coo but stopped short of a full-on laugh. Finally, Rafe flopped back against the couch with an exaggerated groan. 

“She’s making us look bad, babe. We can’t even get our own kid to laugh.”

“She’s just making sure we’re entertained, that’s all, isn't it sweet girl?” 

Y/n hummed softly, leaning down closer to their daughter, her face just inches from the baby’s. She cooed, pressing a tender kiss to the baby’s soft cheek. The baby blinked up at her, a tiny smile tugging at her lips but still no laugh. Y/n smiled at the little almost-grin and pulled back a bit too quickly, not realising Rafe had leaned forward at the same time. The back of her head bumped directly into his face with a light but sudden thud.

“Ah—!” Rafe grunted, leaning back as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his hand. “Babe, what the—?”

“Oh my god!” Y/n whipped around hand coming up to cover her mouth, wide-eyed. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

Rafe waved her off, though his nose scrunched slightly. The baby, who had been watching them intently, suddenly let out the sweetest, tiniest string of giggles. Both of them froze and looked down at her in surprise.

“No way,” Rafe said, his hand dropping from his nose as a grin spread across his face.

“That’s what it takes, seriously?”

Y/n blinked, a smile tugging at her lips as the baby let out another bubbly little laugh. “I can’t believe it,” she whispered, her voice soft with wonder. 

“Her first laugh…”

“And it’s at my expense,” Rafe added, though he didn’t look the least bit annoyed. Instead, he leaned back down, his nose almost brushing the baby’s. 

“You think that’s funny, huh, little lady?”

The baby cooed in response, her tiny laugh bubbling up again, and Y/n joined in, covering her mouth with her hand as she tried to stop her own giggles. He grinned, leaning down to kiss the baby’s forehead. 

“You��re lucky you’re cute.”

The baby cooed in response, letting out another delighted laugh, and Y/n shook her head fondly, a hum passing her lips again. Rafe smirked, pulling Y/n closer with his free arm.

 “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up both of you.”

Y/n rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes fixed on their baby. "You know, if her laugh already makes me this happy, we’re in trouble when she starts talking."

Rafe chuckled, his hand lightly brushing Y/n’s arm as he said, "When she calls me ‘dada’ first, I’ll try not to rub it in too much, alright?"

Y/n smirked, tilting her head up at him. “Oh, she’s definitely saying ‘mama’ first. I’ll make sure of it.”

Their daughter’s bubbly giggle filled the room again, almost as if she understood their playful exchange. Rafe’s gaze drifted playfully to the girl next to him as he leaned in towards Y/n, his lips meeting hers in a sweet, lingering kiss. His hand gently cradled her jaw, thumb brushing tenderly across her cheek. When they pulled back, his lips curved into a teasing smirk, his voice dropping to a low murmur, 

“We’ll see about that, mama…”

They make me want to cry 😭

[pricegouge]

shovel talk

it's not even six in the morning and yet the shovel grates across the walkway, grit of pebbles beneath its steel edge scraping and catching. it balks in unsteady hands, tries again with another drawn out rasp before meeting the wall of the bank. trembling as it rises, it spills a portion its spare load back across the pavers before being tipped meticulously atop the mountain of snow that runs parallel the walk. she lets the shovel fall carelessly ahead of her and grits her teeth, rises an inch and scoots forward minutely, dragging the cheap lawn chair she's been perched on along by a hand shoved between her knees, gripping the seat. it scrapes just as much as the shovel, heavy with implication. she's not even wearing a proper jacket, just a flannel over a zip up hoodie, the wool weave of her button up already beaded with melted snow.

she looks ornery and mulish, but so are you and you can't just keep walking past.

clear blue eyes turn on you when you call to her, ask if you can help. her hands might shake but her gaze is level, taking you in from head to toe before scooting herself along another inch. "shouldn't be doin' that," she advises, voice croaky in her old age.

"neither should you," you counter, nodding at her makeshift mobility aid. it teeters when she turns to chuckle at you, though she hides it in a cough. stubborn old bat, you can already tell.

"anyway my son will be here soon."

pursing your lips, you look the walk over properly. the poor woman's already done over half of it - how late is the son exactly? but you don't comment on it, step closer when her shovel catches on a shelf of ice instead. "give it here, please," you offer rather diplomatically. she frowns apprehensively but does as told, shuffling her seat back a smidge to give you room to work. it takes a couple tries but you catch the bottom edge of the ice, ply it back and huck it over the bank easily enough. it thunks as it sinks through the snow, a real ice breaker.

"and here i'd pegged you for some soft, sweet thing," she laughs, sheepish.

"must've loosened it for me," you shrug, and turn to finish the walk while she's distracted, laughing herself into a minor coughing fit. "should you go inside?" you offer, unsure if it's a good suggestion seeing as that would leave some strange woman alone on her front lawn.

thankfully she just waves you off as she calms herself down, heavy breaths clouding around her like the smoke that's probably catching up to her. "can't. gotta take credit for your work when my son gets here."

"oh, i see how it is," you snark, and purposefully leave a good quarter inch on the paver, a base level that will freeze solid soon enough and create another sheet of ice for her to struggle with in the future.

she just eyes you, thin eyebrow pulled low on a once-heavy brow. she may be old and frail but it's a sort of sternness that doesn't dull with age and you can only smile to yourself as you fix it. no wonder her son still comes by to help. "he running late?" you ask conversationally, nod up the path where she's already done most of the work by way of explanation when she hmm's at you.

"oh, no. he'll be two hours early, probably. which is why i'm out here three hours early. a woman's got to have her pride, after all."

you nod along as if that's reasonable. "well what's he gonna do when he gets here, then?"

"fix my water heater," she gripes. "say, you wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

it earns an unladylike snort from you, but you don't think she's the type to mind. "'fraid not."

the stoop is easy enough, just a quick swipe to clean the steps. you note the name above the door with some interest, a misplaced desire to keep tags on her, come back and check maybe. "got any salt, mrs. price?"

she motions you toward the open garage behind her but sticks a hand out for help as you pass. her grip is surprisingly strong on your forearm, the fingers of her other hand digging into your tricep almost cruelly when she uses you to drag herself up. you snatch the lawn chair up before she can even try it, nod toward the garage questioningly.

"next to the overhead, please," she agrees, and you find the bucket of salt right beside it, an empty coffee can already filled and ready for dispensing. when you emerge from the garage, there's a truck parked out front.

"give me that," mrs. price hisses and you jump to find her so close, already snatching the can from your fingers. old bat can still move.

the driver's door creaks when it closes. you can only see the top of a blue beanie from over the roof of it but mrs. price doesn't wait to see him before hollering at her son. "i thought you wouldn't be here until nine!?"

tall and burly with his mother's same stern brow, price junior rounds the corner of his truck and frowns between the two of you."and i thought you didn't like when other people shoveled for you," he counters before tacking on a quick hi pet towards you.

"hi -."

"who's shoveled for me?" she demands, motioning up the walk with another spray of salt. "did this all on my own."

he hums as he comes closer, boots crunching over the thin dusting of snow that still coats the driveway. you sincerely hope mrs. price didn't shovel all that, but judging by the banks that line the drive you suspect a service was likely hired. why they couldn't take an extra two minutes to clear an old lady's walkway you'd never know. you think maybe the son is wondering the same, the way he's inspecting the short stretch critically, but when he opens his mouth it's not at all meant to insult the snow removal service. "you're losing your touch, woman."

you're unsure who's more offended, yourself or his mother. "what's wrong with it?" you blurt, unheeding of the way mrs. price elbows you again.

"i've done a fine job," she supplies, trying to save face.

he just tilts his head at her patronizingly, rocks up onto his toes to appear unnecessarily bigger. "you've forgotten we're expecting more snowfall soon. you'll want to widen the walk to push the banks back, make it easier to shovel out the next storm."

this ass. "well if you'd wanted it done right, you should have shown up on time," you huff, unreasonably defensive of the quick job you'd done.

he's still got that insufferable expression on when he turns to you, but you think you see an edge of something playful glimmering in his clear blue eyes, that same expression his mother had worn when she'd asked if you could perhaps also take his job fixing her water heater. "'on time' would be hours from now," he reminds you. "would you have had this all fixed by then?"

the worst part is, calling him out on the insult would mean admitting you'd done it, and you're suddenly very aligned with this man's mother re: his versus her pride. instead you turn his own words back on him, leaning close to your new friend to ask her if she's going to take that.

she chuckles. "oh, don't mind him. john here's just scared because he knows his job is at risk."

you watch john frown between the two of you, the furrow between his brows deepening in a way which brings you too much pleasure. part of you wants to stay, keep carving away at his pride, but you're now running late for work and you still have a few blocks to walk. "well, it was lovely to meet you, mrs. price," you say with an overly formal shake of her hand.

"pleasure doing business," she agrees with a wry smile. "see you again bright and early next snow storm."

john doesn't budge to let you pass, instead squints down at you in open assessment. you note his cheeks are rosy with the cold and you briefly hope he gets stuck outside fixing the damn walk, cold wind stinging the chapped apples of cheeks which his ridiculous beard doesn't quite cover. they scrunch up when he affects a smile, lend a sort of disarmingly childish quality to the patronizing tone he still can't quite drop. it just pisses you off even more. "didn't actually catch your name," he prompts, gloved hand extended, as if attempting to continue the ruse.

"that's because i didn't give it," you chirp in your best customer service voice. you brush past him when he can only blink in confusion, the contrast between your words and your tone evidently too much for him to process so early in the morning.

"she usually pays me with breakfast if you want to stick around!" he calls after you, far too late to start acting sweet.

you nearly slip in your haste to spin around and fix him with an overly saccharine smile. "oh, i already ate. got here at five," you lie, just to watch his face crumble into genuine concern.

behind him, his mother's thin mouth twists into a cheshire grin and you stumble away before she can solidify any real plans.

too bad she's just as stubborn and ornery as you.

too bad john's worse than both of you.

[draconym]

Thank you for the post about your parrot combining words to refer to specific foods! I always love reading stories about things they say, so so fascinating. Do you have any other examples of combined words or maybe just an interesting anecdote about bird language for someone who’s never looked at your blog before?

Oh, sure. I first read about Lexical Elision in The Alex Studies, and later Alex and Me, about Dr. Pepperberg's "Avian Language EXperiment." Alex famously described apples as "banerry" (banana + cherry) when he first encountered them, possibly because they were pale inside like a banana, but round and red like a cherry--both of which words he already knew.

I guess the thing that's hard about this question is that I have normalized so many things about living with a talking parrot that I think are, for the average person, deeply abnormal. Every morning when I come downstairs he requests various foods from me (most days it's carrot, peanut, berry) and then lobbies for me to let him out by saying "Ripley wanna come out" in various different intonations. When he sees me linger by the door or put on a jacket, he says "bye," often adding, "see you later."

A lot of people think that parrots memorize phrases atomically, as in, if you teach a parrot to say "Polly wanna cracker," it may understand that making those sounds in that order results in a cracker, but it will not mean that a bird understands that its name is "Polly," that it "wanna" something, and that "cracker" is the desired food.

To an extent, this is true. If you teach a parrot a phrase in a vacuum it will never be able to deconstruct it. But most captive parrots capable of language and mimicry are exposed to the daily conversation of the humans around them, and are also inherently prone to making word salad out of whatever they hear. This is fun for them. So Polly will probably eventually learn that Polly is their name, that "wanna" can precede many different desirable things, and that "cracker" is the most important part of that sentence and the most efficient way to demand it.

Ripley loves making new sentences. He says silly sounding things all the time like "Ripley wanna chair" or "gonna watch kitchen" because he enjoys playing with words like Legos. But my favorite Ripleyism is when he says "you're so (random word)." Originally this was "you're so silly" or "you're so nice," which we do say to him pretty often. His favorite compliment is "you're so bird."

I recommend my Ripley Parrot tag if you're interested in Ripley Stories. I also highly recommend reading stories about parrots over living with a parrot.

[mentalhomosexual]

‎‧₊˚✧[𝘚𝘬𝘻 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 ]✧˚₊‧

ᯓ★ Pairing: Straykids x Fem reader

ᯓ★Tags: cumming inside,Minho calls reader a slut, just smut with no plot, they're all horny idk 🤷🏽‍♀️

˖࣪ ⊹𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯⊹ ࣪ ˖

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────

Chan could always tell when you were ovulating...imo I feel he would be the kind of boyfriend that would like to keep track of your cycle so he could know when he needs to buy you snacks and spoil you completely rotten BUT when it comes to ovulation that's a different story. He loves to tease you and see how riled up you get, like coming behind you and kissing your neck, knowing how much you love it, he whispers into your ear, pressing his clothed bulge against you but the moment you start to press back and softly moan he pulls away, leaving you hornier than you already were. :'(

Don't worry though, he'll fuck you after. And he's rough. he knows that's how you like it when your ovulating, your face pushed into a pillow as he pulls your hips back to meet his.

"Fuckk..it feels good doesn't it baby?"

˖࣪ ⊹𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘩𝘰⊹ ࣪ ˖

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────

He knows that your ovulating but he makes you wait for it, he pretends not to notice your lustfull gazes at him or your lingering touches, he can't help it he just loves to tease you, but he can only deny you so long before he wants you just as bed. He fucks you relentlessly. Face shoved into a pillow with your ass up, you love being fucked dumb by him, wheather you're ovulating or not. Harsh slaps to your ass as he tells you how much of a slut you are. True paradise. 🤌🏽

"Such a slut aren't you? want me to breed your pretty pussy, baby?~"

˖࣪ ⊹𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘣𝘪𝘯⊹ ࣪ ˖

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────

He secretly loves it. You get so worked up just seeing his muscles. he makes sure to wear sleeveless shirts and tank tops around you just to see you fight back demons, he lets you do whatever you want because he knows how rapid you become during ovulation, he lays back with an arm behind his head as you ride him. He tells you how beautiful you are ontop of him and you swear you see stars...maybe one baby wouldn't hurt ? 🤩

"so pretty baby—fuck, you feel so good"

˖࣪ ⊹𝘏𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘫𝘪𝘯⊹ ࣪

─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

Of course, Hyunjin would give you whatever you wanted during ovulation. He secretly likes it too, 🤫. He's hitting it from the back, your fucked out moans filling the room, your turn your head back and start mumbling words.

"What's the matter baby? Talk to me" he grins as he sees your face, your practically drooling on yourself.

"Mmm...take the condom off...wanna feel all of you~" you whine, He grins at your request, he does as he's told before immediately sliding back inside you, your eyes rolling back at his quickening pace, the tip of his cock kissing all your sweet spots. This was a surprise to Hyunjin because you're usually so on top of using protection and judging by the way you're rolling back to meet his thrust, moaning and whining like a baby and telling him to fuck you raw...oh you're definitely ovulating, it turns him on seeing you so desperate for his cum like this.

"Such a nasty girl, huh? Wanting me to fuck you raw"

He says lowly as he leans down and kisses your neck, You nod as you push back against him more.

"Oh my goddd...fuck I'm gonna cum, baby please~" You whine as you bury your face into the pillow.

"Please what?" He teases, leaning up against the shell of your ear, whispering into it knowing full well what you're asking for, He just likes to hear you say it.

˖࣪ ⊹𝘏𝘢𝘯⊹ ࣪ ˖

─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

This sex addict doesn't even notice a change. You two fuck so often that when you randomly want to go a couple more rounds than usual he thinks nothing of it.

"pleasee~ want you to fuck me againnn" you whine as you claw at his back, you've both cum like 4 times already and he's becoming sensitive but like I said, He doesn't stop. Overstimulating himself in your pussy is like a dream to him, he could do it for the rest of his life and die happy.

"Mm, gonna milk me fucking dry aren't you, baby?~"

˖࣪ ⊹𝘍𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘹⊹ ࣪ ˖

─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

He would be a obvious to it at first, as he cuddles with you he notices that you groan when his head shifts on your chest...he look at you with his cute little concerned face before speaking

"What's wrong? Am I hurting you?" He asks softly, you chuckle and Shake your head

"No you're fine, my breast are just a bit sensitive..I'm ovulating" you admit and it all strarts to make sense why you've been so clingy and sensitive lately. His cheeks flush a light pink.

"Oh, I'm sorry, love" he apologizes as he pulls you closer to him, he kinda feels bad for not noticing sooner. He apologizes by burying his face in between those beautiful thighs of yours, eating you out till you cry 💖

"You always taste so good angel, cum on my face one more time, yeah?"

˖࣪ ⊹𝘚𝘦𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘮𝘪𝘯⊹ ࣪ ˖

─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

He knows something is up when you become extremely clingy. It's something you always tend to do when that time comes around. You sit straddled on his lap as you softly make out, he doesn't question nor deny you when you're like this, who is he to turn down mind-blowing sex? He listens to everything you babble to him as he fucks into you.

"You want me to cum inside of you? I wanna hear you beg for it first~" He chuckles menacingly at your pathetic high pitched pleas.

˖࣪ ⊹𝘑𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯⊹ ࣪ ˖

─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

This nasty boy operates as if he can ovulate too. It doesn't matter what you're wearing or how you look, he's gonna get rock hard just looking at you. You're doing laundry, throwing the clothes in the washer and you feel him sneak up behind you, already feeling his bulge press on your lower back.

"I just wanna bend you over this machine and fuck you right now" he whispers into your ear, nibbling on the lobe, you feel him push into you more, you bite your lip as his hands come up to knead your breast, you sigh in pleasure before pushing your ass against him.

"Then why don't you do it then?~" you grin as you turn you head back to meet his gaze, you certainly don't have to tell him twice, he fucks you like there's no tomorrow, like he'll never see you again. It's enough to leave your legs wobbly for a couple days but it's worth it

"Can you feel me deep inside you, baby? Gonna let me cum inside of you?"

© property of mentalhomosexual, do not repost or copy this work. Always ask permission before taking inspiration

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Watching the politics tag fill up with exhausted liberals talking about how they're too drained to keep resisting and no one should blame them for that and like. Yeah, you're right this sucks and you shouldn't be forced to do it to be treated as human and you shouldn't need to be able to be on and in activist mode all the time either and ALSO

I've been doing this since 2002. My mother did this from 1981-2015. My auntie marched in Alabama during civil rights and my childhood minister has been in resistence since the Vietnam war and has shown no signs of stopping as she collects civil disobedience arrests across all 50 states like badges of honor.

And you all are burnt out after 8 yrs of some of the biggest (and therefore LEAST DEMANDING ON YALL PERSONALLY) movements we've ssen in decades because you feel too poor and tired???????

My mama would go around to every grocery store she had friends working at in the valley and collect all the food they were gonna toss, then host educational salons where she fed everyone in the neighborhood and performed innoculation work. She was a single mom raising a deeply disabled child ALONE on a salary half that of her male coworkers you think she had money? You think she had TIME????? NO!

If you are tired now, I'm sorry to be harsh, but it is BECAUSE YOU DID NOT LISTEN when you were told you needed to settle in for the long haul. You DID NOT LISTEN when organizers shared with everyone their practices around self-care, specialization, community care, and communication, and you spent the last 8 years burning the candle at both ends in person and online with no regard for the actual WORK only for your own fear and feelings of reassurance.

This will never sustain change. I'm sorry. I truly am. I never wanted this for anyone who came after me and I have so much grief that it's here. But I also do not have time to force yall to fucking listen to us when we talk.

Stop trying to assert that only the wealthy and energetic resist. Anyone I see doing so will be bitten repeatedly until fucking dead.

[checkeredflagggs]

Febuwhump Day 14: Becoming the Monster

pairings: gen

summary: a story about y/n, Redbull’s new second driver, told in non-sequential order

a/n: I love febuwhump and have participated before for other fandoms but this is a first for me — attempting to compete it via smau only. Hopefully I can write a complete story eventually and I will be posting it on its own masterlist in the correct order to read but it’ll be written based on the febuwhump prompt list! @febuwhump

a/n2: based on the 2024 year; sorry checo but you got replaced earlier!

a/n3: listen I like Lando but I needed a villian here

Masterlist | Taglist

y/n_gossip

liked by user, user, and 1,836,622 others

tagged: y/n_rb, landonorris

y/n_gossip: it seems like little Lando Norris might be thinking of a matador career — he keeps tempting the bulls! After a few close calls with Verstappen, Norris and L/N collided resulting in a DNF for our girl with some pretty harsh words coming from both of their radios afterwards.

view all comments

user1: this is what racing is!

↳user2: I know — I was on the edge of my seat…

user3: pretty harsh?? Girl sounded like she was gonna run him down on foot and take him out

↳user4: lol did you see the rb team after she got back to the garage?

↳user5: they literally just picked her up and moved her away from the reporters 😂😂

user6: oh the post race interviews are gonna slap

↳user7: I can’t wait!

user8: that’s so completely unfair! y/n was ahead at the apex — Lando should have given it away, not crashed into her

↳user9: seriously?? Where on earth did you get that information??

↳user8: uhh by watching the screen??

user10: oh shit….

↳user11: Lando’s post interview??

↳user10: how dare he say something like that???

f1gossip

liked by user, user, and 1,457,987 others

Transcript:

interviewer: and what are your thoughts on y/n and your collision today?

Lando: obviously not ideal. You know you never want to be in a collision- especially when it’s not your fault. Y/N…she should spend less time with Max, don’t need her becoming another monster, ya know…

f1gossip: what an interview! During his post race interview for Austria 2024, where he was forced to dnf after two different collisions with both Redbulls, Norris didn’t hold back his thoughts. During this brief moment, he talked about the close friendship between this year’s Redbull drivers — saying that y/n (a rookie) should take a step back from her more senior teammate because no one “[needed] her becoming another monster,”. He also went on to say that he was losing respect for Verstappen and the way he raced.

view all comments

user12: did he really just fucking say that?

↳user13: oh my god he did

↳user14: it’s even worse when you actually watch it because you can just barely see max next to him — when Norris said this, both max and the interviewer froze

↳user13: i mean i would too. That’s a really harsh thing to say about someone

user15: people want cunty f1 back again but can’t handle this little spat??

↳user16: cunty? Yes. Whatever this was? Absolutely not

user17: he’s just salty she’s better then him

↳user18: how do you figure that??

↳user17: she literally won her very first f1 race? He’s been racing for years and only just won his first this year

↳user18: it doesn’t count really. Everyone knows that redbull cheats

↳user17: oh my god just shut up

user20: i feel bad for y/n…it really wasn’t her fault nor did it affect lando too much but he’s (someone she’s said she looks up too before) putting her on blast with some pretty harsh words…

↳user21: she looks up to him??

↳user20: yeah! She’s said multiple times that she really admires how open he is talking about his mental health and that she really wanted to emulate him

↳user21: oh ouch…then today and that interview has got to hurt…

user22: anyone else interested in what she’s gonna do to retaliate?

↳user23: 🙋🏾‍♀️🙋🏾‍♀️

Private Messages, Max and y/n

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @imlonelydontsendhelp @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @msimpala-67

[steddieas-shegoes]

uh oh, feelings

for @corrodedcoffinfest popup event 'it's complicated'

rated e, 18+, minors dni | 4,512 words | cw: open ending, steve/gareth sex | tags: established steddie, NOT cheating they're all super cool and fine with this, eddie watches, virgin gareth, first time, bottom steve, top gareth, blowjob, anal fingering, anal sex, left open on purpose because i'm insane and might continue it

also on ao3

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“Dude. You’re making me sad.”

Gareth groans. “I don’t care. I feel pitiful.”

“That’s ‘cause you are,” Eddie pushes his shoulder. It’s playful, but there’s a hint of actual annoyance in it and Gareth doesn’t want that. “There’s, like, a whole crowd of women out there who would fuck you if you asked.”

“I don’t want the whole crowd of women. I want one woman, maybe two.”

“You’re not going from zero to two. So knock down your expectations a little,” Eddie starts. “Also, just throwing this out as an option: plenty of men would be interested in you, too.”

“Yeah? Like who?” Gareth scoffs.

It’s not that he hasn’t thought about it. He has. Plenty of times. More often than he’d ever admit to anyone, especially Eddie.

“I dunno. Steve?”

Gareth blinks once, twice.

“Steve who?” He only knows one Steve and that Steve is very taken by the man hounding him about his virginity right now.

Eddie throws the pillow he’s holding at Gareth. “My boyfriend, Steve! ‘Steve who?’ Fuck, dude, how many Steves do you know?”

“I dunno! Sorry for not assuming you want me to sleep with the love of your life I guess!”

“Everyone wants to sleep with Steve,” Eddie shrugs as if he’s cool with everyone wanting to sleep with Steve.

“Not everyone,” Gareth insists, but he’s not actually sure. Steve is the hottest guy they know. “I don’t think.”

“But you do.”

Gareth stays silent. This feels like a trap. He doesn’t think Eddie would get pissed or anything if he admits it, but he doesn’t want Steve to find out.

“It’s okay if you do. Steve would totally fuck you.”

Gareth’s mouth drops open. “He would not.”

“He would,” Eddie nods. He’s smirking like he’s teasing, but Gareth thinks he’s actually being very serious right now. “Ask him.”

“I’m not gonna ask your boyfriend if he’d fuck me!”

“Don’t ask him outright!” Eddie throws his arms up. “Jesus, no wonder you’re a virgin. Flirt with him, see if he flirts back.”

“Is this some kinda fucked up friendship test?” Gareth stands and starts pacing. Steve will be on the bus any minute and there’s no way he should hear any of this conversation. He’ll cut off Gareth’s balls for even suggesting he cheat on Eddie. He’ll hang them out the tour bus window while Gareth dies on the floor and post an ad for a drummer at their next stop. “Or are you testing Steve? I’m not gonna be a part of that, man. Steve loves you and I’m not getting in the way-“

“Dude. It’s not a test. Get it out of your system and then maybe you can focus on something other than your miserable state of existence,” Eddie walks to his bunk and Gareth is reminded immediately that they’re all sleeping on the bus tonight. Eddie’s plan isn’t gonna work.

“It can’t be tonight,” Gareth is surprised at his own words, shocked that he’s apparently entertaining the idea of fucking Steve. Getting fucked by Steve? “Is Steve a top or bottom?”

Eddie laughs loud enough to make Gareth flinch.

“You’ll find out soon.”

~~~

Soon is two days later, when they finally have a two day break so they can stay in a hotel. None of them stray far, always choosing to be in adjoining rooms and getting room service instead of trying to go out. It’s just easier; no worrying about being seen by fans or trying to book enough security for them to stay safe.

Goodie and Jeff are in the hot tub downstairs, probably trying to pick up chicks, so naturally Gareth is sitting in Eddie and Steve’s bed while they finish their dinner. He’s not worried about being a third wheel, especially not since Eddie told him that Steve would fuck him. He’s still not sure he would.

“Steve, you’ve taken most of Hawkins’ virginity, right?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, huffs a ‘smooth’ under his breath. Steve doesn’t even flinch. He finishes chewing, swallows, and sits back in the rolling chair he insisted on staying in while he ate.

“I wouldn’t say most. A good chunk,” Steve smirks. “Why? Trying to take someone’s virginity?”

“Yeah. Mine.”

Gareth slaps his hand over his own mouth. He feels absurd. He feels like he might puke. He thinks his heart is trying to escape his body via his throat or maybe his ass. He’s unsure if gravity is involved at all, actually.

“You’re a virgin?” Steve chokes on nothing. “Eddie, you didn’t tell me he’s a virgin.”

“I didn’t know you needed to know this about my best friend,” Eddie laughs, ignores the way Gareth is watching them with wide eyes.

“I can’t believe I couldn’t tell,” Steve is shaking his head, looking more disappointed with himself by the second. Gareth isn’t sure what to make of it. He thinks he’s supposed to feel ashamed, but he doesn’t. Not yet. “I can spot them from a mile away.”

Eddie snorts, but doesn’t comment. He’s stuffing his face with his dinner, and Steve’s eyes are focusing on Gareth in a way he isn’t familiar with from anyone, let alone…Steve.

“Uh…how exactly do you know from looking at someone?” Gareth dares to ask.

“Oh, it’s easy. I can’t tell you, but you might figure it out soon,” Steve answers, shoving another bite into his mouth and then standing up.

“How will I figure it out?”

“Because you won’t be a virgin anymore.”

“O…kay?”

There’s no way it’s this easy, right? There’s no way Steve is offering to fuck him and there’s no way Eddie’s just okay with it.

“Eddie, what’s your color on this?” Steve asks.

Eddie looks between them for a moment. “Green,” Eddie smirks. “But I’m watching.”

“Watching what?” Gareth knows what. He can’t believe it’s happening, but he knows.

“You cool with fucking me? Or do you prefer me fucking you? I’m good either way.”

Straight to business it seems. Gareth is chubbing up a little already. What the fuck is going on?

“Yeah, uh.” Gareth swallows around his nerves. He performs in front of thousands of people every night. He can fuck Steve Harrington. “Yeah, I can fuck you. That’s good. Cool.”

Steve raises a brow, looks to Eddie, then back to Gareth. “Is it because he’s gonna watch?”

Gareth shakes his head. He’s fine with that part. Honestly, it might help keep him from throwing up if Eddie’s there. Eddie’s seen him in every state of undress, and every emotion, and he trusts him more than anyone else.

“Is it because it’s me?” Steve steps closer. Gareth’s asshole tightens. It happens when he’s nervous, okay? It’s like fight or flight, except no matter what he chooses, nothing’s getting in his asshole or out of it.

“I mean, it’s not not because it’s you. I’d be nervous about anyone. I guess it’s just…like you do realize that you’re with Eddie, right?”

Eddie and Steve both laugh and it makes Gareth feel dumb.

“Yeah, I do. I love him a hell of a lot,” Steve finally says. “And he loves me a lot. And we both love you and want you to stop moping.”

“You’re not in love with me though?” Gareth has to clarify. He loves Eddie, and he loves Steve, but not like that.

“No, dude,” Eddie exclaims. “Neither of us wanna make you a third. You just need to get over this thing in your head that losing your virginity is the end all be all of your life or something. I can’t stand the face you make anymore. Steve’s sick of me complaining. We love you in the way where if we have to see that face anymore, we’ll bury your body on the interstate so.”

“Right. Okay.” Gareth nods because that makes sense. It’s hard to figure out how this is gonna work later on, after he’s seen Steve like this, after Eddie’s seen him like this. “So, we’re doing this.”

Steve doesn’t answer with words. He gets close enough to pull Gareth into him, kisses the corner of his mouth as a test.

It’s a little weird, but that’s because he was under the impression they wouldn’t kiss. He assumed this was a get in, get out situation. Get the job done and move on. He didn’t expect it to be soft.

“C’mon,” Steve whispers as he pulls back, smiling encouragingly at him. He takes his hand and leads him to the bed. “You know how to get me ready?”

Gareth nods. He’s messed around with himself plenty of times to know what to do, what feels good, what’s too much. He doesn’t know what Steve likes, but he can figure it out as he goes.

Steve takes his shirt off. Eddie groans.

“You look so good,” he groans. “I wanna touch you, too.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Not now. Let Gare have this, baby.”

“He can…he can touch you. If you want,” Gareth says. “I dunno if I want him to touch me, though.”

Eddie’s hand goes to his chest dramatically. “No? My nimble fingers aren’t good enough? Fine!” He smirks. “I’m good just watching. This is for you. I get to touch him all the time.”

Steve is slipping his pants off quietly, letting them have this moment.

“Normally, I’d make you take my clothes off, but I think you know how to do that,” Steve teases. “Unless you’re unfamiliar with this model of jeans.”

“Levi��s?” Gareth takes his own shirt off. “Half my closet is thrifted Levi’s, dude.”

And then they’re both standing in just their underwear. Gareth’s in boxers that he doesn’t remember washing in his last round of laundry, and Steve’s standing there in the tightest gray underwear Gareth’s ever seen, already half-hard.

His dick is huge. Like, way bigger than Gareth’s, maybe also Eddie’s. He’d need to see them both at once to compare, but-

“We’re gonna use colors, even though it’s not a scene, okay? Just so you’re comfortable. Red is stop, yellow is pause, green is good. Use them anytime. If Eddie sees something I miss, he’ll ask you randomly, okay?” Steve pulls his underwear off.

He’s just…naked. Comfortably standing in front of Gareth with his dick out and leaning to the left, getting harder the more Gareth watches him. Who knew Steve was into being watched?

Gareth drops his boxers and he is fully hard. Achingly so. His dick pulses when Steve’s eyes drop down to get a look. Steve’s lips curl up into a smile.

He walks up to him, drops to his knees, and gets his hand around the base. Gareth’s breath catches.

Steve licks a stripe up his dick, sucking the head into his mouth before he takes him all the way down.

“Jesus,” Gareth moans. He’s got pretty good stamina when it’s just him. His dick is sensitive, but he knows how to edge himself. He kinda likes doing it on nights when they’ve got a hotel. He can shove his face into the pillow and get himself close four, five, six times before he shakes apart. He doesn’t know if he can hold back with his dick leaking down Steve’s throat. “Do you not have a gag reflex? Fuck.”

Steve smiles around him somehow, and Eddie is trying hard not to make noise, but Gareth can hear him huffing a laugh against his hand.

Steve pops off for a moment, looks up at him with a grin. “You can touch me.”

Right. His hands immediately go to Steve’s hair, threading through the locks and pulling him in again. He’s under no impression that he’s in control here. He’s just gonna try to keep both hands on the steering wheel while Steve hits the gas pedal.

His fingers tighten when Steve’s tongue swirls around his tip. Steve moans. The vibrations are enough to make Gareth’s legs feel weak.

“Shit. Bed, bed, bed,” he’s saying as he tugs Steve off of him and to his feet. He crushes his lips to Steve’s, any lingering doubt in his mind that this was gonna ruin their friendship long gone. He’s gonna fuck Steve and make him feel good, and Steve’s gonna return the favor, and then he’s gonna keep annoying Steve for the rest of time.

He could throw Steve on the bed, but Steve’s faster. He pushes Gareth down on his back, straddles his hips, and pushes his hands above his head.

Shit, that’s hot.

“How am I gonna get you ready if you have my hands way up there?” Gareth is nothing if not a little shit.

But Steve is also a little shit.

“You’ll figure it out,” Steve’s ass is brushing against his dick and he’s trying not to think about how it will feel inside him. But the more he thinks about not thinking about it, the more he realizes he’s gonna be inside Steve very soon. His restraint is flying out the window and up the street.

He feels Eddie’s eyes on them, but he’s decidedly not thinking about what he might be doing. If it were him in Eddie’s shoes, he’d be jacking it relentlessly.

Gareth is pretty strong. Like, he plays drums every day. Got used to lugging equipment around before they had people who did that for them. Started lifting weights occasionally when no one was watching. He likes being strong, he likes the way his muscles ripple when he’s beating the hell out of his snares and cymbals, angry but beaming from ear to ear.

He likes the way Steve moans when he throws him off of him, switching their positions in less than two seconds.

He doesn’t feel the need to say anything. Steve’s blushing, a pretty pink color across his face and neck, and his lips are swollen from sucking his dick and biting his own lips. Seeing Steve like this is life-changing.

It’s not a falling in love moment, but it’s a moment where he can see why Eddie did.

There’s always a certain charm floating around Steve, and it shifts now, while he’s under Gareth. It’s brighter, damn near blinding. Steve’s glittering gold, intensely blazing as Gareth’s hands run down his chest and sides. He adjusts so he’s sitting between Steve’s legs, pushing them back.

He hears Eddie groan from a few feet away. He’s ignoring it.

“You guys have lube?” Gareth asks.

Eddie throws a bottle on the bed.

“Thanks.”

Stupid of him to assume they went anywhere without some. They fucked like rabbits. He’s pretty sure if Steve could get pregnant, he would have had at least two accidental babies by now.

Gareth stares at the bottle in his hand.

“Still green?” Steve asks quietly.

“Yeah, sorry.” Gareth opens the bottle and uses entirely too much. It’s a different brand than he uses, and he’s nervous, and he can feel two sets of eyes watching his every breath and it’s- “Yellow.”

Steve sits up and takes the bottle from him. He hears Eddie step closer for a moment, as if he’s gonna try to fix it even though he isn’t technically involved in any of this.

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, soft, careful. Unlike any way he ever talks to Gareth.

He kinda hates it. He likes when Steve’s a bitchy know-it-all to him. He likes when Steve gets frustrated at the way he pretends to be dumber than he is about band stuff.

“I just need a minute, I think,” Gareth admits. “This is a lot.”

“Okay,” Steve waves Eddie off and places both hands on Gareth’s face. It’s intimate. It blocks the outside world from view. It feels like it’s just them right now. “It won’t hurt my feelings if you wanna stop. It’s not me, it’s you.”

Gareth snorts. There’s the bitchy Steve he’s always loved.

“I don’t wanna stop. I just realized I’m fucking my best friend’s boyfriend while he watches and it’s taking me a second to wrap my head around that being a normal thing,” Gareth explains. He’s ignoring the way Steve’s dick is rubbing against his. He said yellow, so they have to stay paused until he’s mentally good to go. He knows that much.

“Should Eddie not watch?” Steve asks. As if Eddie would allow Gareth to fuck Steve without being there.

“No, that’s-” Gareth sighs. “I don’t care if he watches. It’s just a lot.”

“Yeah. You’re doing good, though.”

The praise sinks deep into his skin, courses through his veins. He isn’t able to hold back a whine. Holy shit, where did that even come from?

Steve looks thrilled.

“Oh. Well, this is interesting,” Steve says around a smile. “Didn’t think it would go like this.”

“Like what?”

Gareth feels unmoored. Something’s shifted. The entire room feels darker, heavier.

“Stevie, be nice,” Eddie says from a chair. Gareth didn’t even know there was a chair in the corner.

“I am being nice,” Steve doesn’t look away from Gareth. “This is just shocking information and I’m taking it in. Learning. Growing.”

“What information?”

“We won’t do anything with it tonight. But we’ll talk about it after. You gotta stay safe if you decide to try anything with someone and I won’t let someone hurt you.”

“Try what?”

“Later,” Steve pats his cheek and lays back again. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m right here. Take your time, honey.”

The name feels like honey, dripping between them and making them sticky. Gareth wants to lick the word from Steve’s mouth.

Gareth watches as Steve puts his hand on his own dick, lazily stroking to keep himself hard. He can’t look away. A bead of precum falls, drips down his length until his thumb swipes it up, rubs it into his skin.

He licks his lips.

His fingers ghost over Steve’s hole.

“Good?” Steve asks, breathless.

“Green,” Gareth answers as he slides a lubed-up finger into him.

He’s tight, but there’s really no resistance. Steve’s relaxed. Gareth’s relaxed.

Steve rocks back into his touch, eyes glassy as he silently begs for more. It’s easy to read him when he’s like this, wanting more, being greedy in ways no one else ever sees. Steve’s a giver, the least selfish person of all of them, but not now. Now he wants.

Now Gareth is gonna give.

He’s three fingers deep when he manages to find Steve’s prostate. It’s easier on himself, he realizes. He’s spent years figuring out what makes himself tick. He has to watch every rise of Steve’s chest, every twitch of his brow, every bite of his lip. This is finding what makes someone– Steve– feel good, and doing it so they find pleasure.

Gareth sees why they fuck like rabbits.

Steve’s back arches off the bed as he flicks his fingers just right, rubs until he’s sure Steve’s gonna squirm right off the bed. Eddie’s barely even a thought in his mind right now, but he can feel his gaze. He’s making sure Steve’s taken care of, and he’s making sure Gareth doesn’t need to back out. He’s taking care of them in the only way he knows how.

He wants to hand over the reins. Steve’s taking what he’s giving, but he wants him to take more.

He doesn’t know how to verbalize that without sounding desperate.

But something switches between them and Steve seems to just know.

He’s an intuitive guy.

Steve sits up, waits for Gareth to remove his fingers. He pushes Gareth back on the bed, so his head is resting at where the sheets have gathered at the foot.

He straddles him again, throws his hands up above his head again, smirks again.

“Condom?” Steve asks.

Gareth knows from his mom, from health class, from Eddie, from Steve he should say yes. If this were a stranger, he’d say yes.

But this is Steve, who insists on everyone getting tested every three months like clockwork, who has only slept with Eddie for the last six years, who would never even ask if he was at all concerned about their safety. He’s letting Gareth make the call on something that’s normally important. It’s not a test, it’s just Steve letting him have control.

“Can we do it without?” Gareth’s voice is barely more than a whisper. He’s shy. Why the fuck does he feel shy?

Steve nods, soft smile taking over.

“But never do it without with anyone else unless you’re in a committed relationship and both clean,” Eddie says from the chair, ever the mother hen.

“Yes, dad,” Gareth rolls his eyes.

“Don’t call me dad while you’re fucking my boyfriend,” Eddie says.

“I’m not fucking him yet,” Gareth’s words end in a whine as Steve slides down on his dick. He’s so fucking tight, Jesus Christ on the fucking cross. “Holy shit. Is it this tight all the time?”

Steve breathes out, halfway laughs, halfway trying to not whimper.

“Eddie usually does four fingers first,” Steve says. It doesn’t even feel weird to hear him talk about what Eddie normally does.

“Should I have done four?”

“No, honey. Three is good,” Steve leans down to kiss him.

Gareth’s stomach flutters.

He’s inside Steve. His dick is in Steve’s ass.

Steve lifts his body up, falls back down. He holds onto Gareth’s chest, thumbs at his nipples, finds a rhythm.

He knows Steve is athletic, has always been that way and probably always will be that way. He’s got endurance that no one can match, probably not even Eddie. He’s stronger than Gareth by a mile, and it shows when his thigh muscles tighten and relax as he rides Gareth into the mattress.

His pace picks up. Gareth’s hands hold onto his hips, but he’s not really doing anything. He’s just along for the ride.

What a ride it’s been.

“Fuck, yes, there,” Steve gasps suddenly. His legs start shaking. Eddie makes the most high-pitched whine Gareth’s ever heard. It’s a lot all at once and his brain is dumbed down to processing how good he feels and nothing else. “Fuck me, honey. Harder.”

It’s ridiculous how easily he goes along with Steve’s demands now. Normally, he fights him on everything just to be annoying.

But Steve wants him to go harder and he wants what Steve wants.

His grip tightens against Gareth’s hips and he plants his feet against the bed for leverage. If Steve’s wants to get fucked harder, then Steve’s gonna get fucked harder.

“Shit, yes, feels so good,” Steve pants.

Gareth doesn’t know if he’s always like this or if he’s playing it up a little to make him feel more confident for whoever he fucks next. Either way, Steve’s making this a hell of a fun time.

“Is it good for you, honey?” Steve asks.

How he remembers to ask is beyond him. Gareth can’t do anything but nod and moan. He feels sweat beading along his forehead and neck. He doesn’t do this much work unless he’s on stage.

“Tell me how good it is.”

Gareth whimpers. He didn’t even realize he could make that noise.

“So good. So tight, Steve, shit,” Gareth is moving faster now, and he’s really not sure how it could feel good for Steve at this point, but Steve’s eyes roll back in his head and he comes all over them.

He’s impossibly tighter through his orgasm and it brings Gareth to his own peak. He’s shaking through it, not even sure what he’s saying. His hips stutter and stop and he’s filling Steve up with his cum. It’s already dripping back down his own dick, making a mess on the hotel bed.

Steve is brushing his hair out of his face, kissing his jaw, whispering about how good he did. It’s helping and also making it harder to keep this from getting complicated.

No one warned him about the attachment. He figured it would be fine, he could get off with Steve and then they could pretend it didn’t happen or joke about it. He’s crashing from a high he’s never experienced and he’s realizing how stupid he was to think he could ever look at Steve the same.

“Shit, Eddie, come here,” he hears Steve say, but he doesn’t really feel anything anymore. He knows he’s not inside Steve anymore, which kinda sucks. He likes the warmth, might already be a little addicted to it. “It’s okay, Gare. We’ve got you.”

Strong arms wrap around him, familiar in the way they don’t hesitate to pull him close. Eddie’s always been a cuddler, and he’s always known how to hold Gareth when his head’s too loud. Right now his head is silent, but his arms provide the same comfort.

A warm washcloth is on him and he blinks his eyes open to see Steve cleaning him up. Eddie’s behind him, holding him against his chest. He’s fully dressed and Gareth is not.

But he just fucked his boyfriend in front of him, so he guesses this is probably fine.

Eddie’s humming something. He doesn’t recognize it, but he’s still feeling a little out of it.

“Hey, honey,” Steve is next to him now, his hand on his chest. “You with us yet?”

“Mmm,” is all he can reply with.

“It’s alright. Take your time.”

A few minutes pass. He feels less like he’s having a crisis about feelings for Steve and more like he just got fucked within an inch of his life.

It’s a good change.

“Hey,” he says.

Eddie’s arms tighten around him. Steve smiles.

“Hey, bud,” Steve says, and it makes Gareth laugh.

“What happened to honey?” He jokes. But he did kinda like it. More than he probably should.

Steve gently smacks his chest. “I was making you feel special, jackass.”

Gareth sighs. “I know. I did.”

Steve has his underwear back on, but nothing else. Gareth can feel his thigh brushing against his. He’s a hairy son of a bitch.

“Was it good?” Steve asks.

“It was great. Thank you for doing that for me,” Gareth hates how his voice sounds now, a little broken, scared.

“You don’t have to thank me, Gare,” Steve says, careful and calm. “I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t want to.”

“It’s true. Steve’s a stubborn bitch,” Eddie butts in. “Can’t get him to do anything he doesn’t wanna do.”

Gareth giggles, ducking his head down. He still feels a little delirious, maybe a little too sleepy for this conversation.

“You wanna stay with us tonight?” Eddie continues.

“Can I?”

“‘Course you can, bud. Need me to get you anything?”

Gareth shakes his head. He just needs sleep. Maybe in the morning, once he’s separated from this a little, he’ll have some coffee and a bagel and he’ll get over this feeling in his chest that’s trying to override the adrenaline of finally having sex.

He doesn’t know what to make of it right now.

But one thing his mom always says is to sleep on hard feelings. If it’s important, it’ll be there in the morning, and it might make more sense.

He sure hopes so.

[steddie-island]

Scheduling Conflict

Written for @steddiebingo Kissing Booth mini event Prompts: Boyfriend, chocolate Rating: E | WC: 1,278 | No CW | Tags: Minor rockstar Eddie Munson, anniversary fic, Eddie is a mess, make up sex (sort of), Porn without plot ao3 | Divider credit

It was obvious as soon as Steve opened the door that someone had been in his house. His house was never messy, but it was even more clean than usual.

He frowned, lifted his bag up beside his head in preparation for using it as a weapon. The mystery person had cleaned, but that did nothing to convince Steve that he wasn't getting ready to be robbed.

He rounded the corner into the kitchen at the same time the intruder headed for the living room.

"Stevie—" There was a yelp as Steve's bag came into contact with someone's hand.

"Eddie?" Steve dropped his bag where he stood and reached out for his boyfriend's hand immediately.

"Who else did you think it would be?" Eddie shook out the muscles in his hand and gave Steve an apologetic smile. "I didn't mean to scare you, sunshine."

"I thought you couldn't make it home." Steve brought Eddie's hand to his lips to press a kiss to his palm.

"I was trying to surprise you." Eddie gathered Steve close. "I'm so sorry, Stevie. I tried to get here in time, but there were so many fucking delays. I'm so sorry you had to spend our anniversary by yourself."

Steve blinked at him, but before he could say anything else Eddie was kissing him, slow and sweet enough to make him shiver.

"I'm gonna make it up to you." Eddie tipped his head to the side and began kissing down his throat. "I said this tour wouldn't be able to keep us apart for important shit and I fucking meant it."

Steve's mind went hazy as Eddie's teeth dragged against the sharp edge of his jaw. "Ed…"

"I'll make it up to you," Eddie said again. He took one of Steve's hands in his and pulled him towards their bedroom.

It took Steve's eyes a few moments to adjust to the dancing of the candle light. There were rose petals strewn over every available surface and in a trail leading from the doorway to the end of the bed. On the bed was a small pile of petals that held a heart shaped box of chocolate.

"Eddie, sweetheart—"

"Shush." Eddie pecked Steve's lips, killing his arguments before they could even begin to take root. "Let me do this for you. Please."

Steve felt a little guilty, but the guilt started dissipating as soon as Eddie's fingers slipped beneath his sweater. "…If you insist."

Eddie gave a triumphant little whoop, then pulled Steve in to kiss him again.

Kissing Eddie never failed to make his head spin and his knees weak. Kissing Eddie after weeks of not seeing him was something even more heady. He couldn't help but moan as calloused fingers trailed through the hair on his chest before brushing over one of his nipples.

"Fuck, I've missed you." Eddie repeated the movement and relished in the way Steve's entire body responded to the contact. He pulled his hand away to start tugging Steve's soft red sweater off over his head. "We have reservations later, I'm gonna take you out on the town, show you off, but I needed to have you first, to show you how sorry I really am."

"Eddie…" Steve felt all thoughts flee his mind as Eddie's lips left a trail of fire from his shoulder to his throat. He was sure he would have bruises that he would need to hide tomorrow, if Eddie's teeth against his skin had anything to say about it, but he didn't have it in him to care. He loved having secret marks beneath his clothes, where only he and Eddie knew about them. He liked feeling owned, feeling like he belonged to and with someone else. "Fuck…"

"We're going to." Eddie tossed Steve's sweater towards the hamper. His mouth was on Steve's chest, ghosting over the guitar pick that Steve wore all the time. "I'm gonna make it up to you."

"Eddie—" Once again Steve's thoughts fled his mind as Eddie's teeth dug into his chest, his tongue flicking lightly over Steve's nipple and sending electric shocks through his body.

He reached back to move the box of chocolate before falling onto the bed. Eddie was on him. As their mouths met in another deep kiss, nimble fingers worked Steve's pants open and slipped in to tease him through his underwear.

"So fucking wet, always so wet for me."

"Eddie—" Steve gasped as Eddie squeezed his cock.

Steve had no time to adjust to Eddie's hands on his body. Eddie sat up and curled his fingers around Steve's waistband before pulling both pants and underwear down together, until Steve was naked and spread out before him.

"Goddamn, I'm a lucky man." Eddie lowered his head. His teeth sank into the meat of Steve's thigh, making him cry out as his tender skin was worked over.

Eddie sucked and bit his way higher, reveling in every gasp and whimper and plea for more. By the time he had Steve's thighs over his shoulders and his mouth around his boyfriend's cock Steve was a shaking mess.

The shaking didn't stop as Eddie's lips and tongue worked his cock over, or as Eddie worked two fingers into his body. It didn't stop as he spilled down Eddie's throat, or when Eddie was finally over him again, pressing inside of him and stretching him even more.

"Fuck— Eddie—" Steve panted. He hitched his legs higher around Eddie's waist and held on tight.

Eddie buried his face in Steve's throat again as their hips came flush together. "I love you. I fucking love you."

Steve nodded, gripped Eddie's hair tight as Eddie started moving inside of him.

Eddie's thrusts were long and deep, deep enough to drive the air out of Steve's lungs. Just when Steve thought he couldn't take any more, when he thought he was going to topple over the edge, Eddie pulled out and flipped him over.

The change in position had Eddie driving deeper, had Steve begging even louder as he buried his hand in his boyfriend's hair again.

More bruises were worked against the back of Steve's neck, against his shoulders as Eddie fucked into him hard and fast.

When Steve came it was without warning, with a cry of Eddie's name and his entire body shuddering.

Eddie kept going, trying to stretch it out long enough for his own orgasm to crash over him and for him to spill deep into Steve's body.

"I know that doesn't fix anything," Eddie said when they had pulled apart and sat up against the headboard. The box of chocolates rested, open, between them on the bed. "I just want you to know I did try to get here on time."

It came rushing back to Steve why Eddie had been so adamant about getting into bed, about why he'd set all of this up— beyond it being a special occassion, even.

Steve pushed the chocolates away before moving to straddle Eddie's lap. Eddie's skin glowed with the flickering light coming off of the candles, making his eyes even darker than they usually were. "Eddie… sweetheart… I appreciate everything you did today." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of Eddie's mouth. "I love how hard you tried to get here, and how much work you put into this. It's— beautiful. But…" Steve brought his hands up to cup Eddie's cheeks before pulling him in for a warm kiss.

"But?" Eddie murmured, sounding almost nervous.

Steve smiled and reached for his phone. He pushed a button, making the date light up, before turning it towards Eddie. "But.... our anniversary isn't until tomorrow."

[dragonshoardofworks]

Reincarnation Everlasting Trio Part 1 (DPxDC)

(I started this when my idle brain was disassociating on a job that I don't dislike but my boss is an ass, so go me, yey!)

And look at that! I managed to finish Part 1 just in time for Valentine's day!

Prompt: TUE happened (the timeline is a bit messed up, tho, so not everything followed the number of the episodes), but Clockwork didn't reverse the second explosion.

Danny, not wanting history to repeat itself, fakes his death along with his family and friends in the Nasty Burger and after ransacking the lab plus destroying the Portal (& FentonWorks since he's making it look like it was a full Ecto-filter's fault), he gtfo.

Danny's pretty done with life, but since he's a halfa, he's functionally immortal, so the only way to get "eternal sleep" is something similar to Pariah's sarcophagus.

But contrary to what the Ancients did back then, Danny would hide his coffin himself where no one would find him.

In a place rich of ambient ectoplasm (to power up the tech that would keep him “safe”), but inaccessible to anyone who doesn't have intangibility and even then he would put up an Ecto-shield to prevent anyone to bypass the solid bedrock that he would use as natural barricade.

Amity is not a safe Ecto-rich place anymore because of Vlad, so the next best city seems to be Gotham, what with the ley lines and several ghost curses layered on there.

So Danny digs a chamber hundreds meters under Gotham and builds from scratch his prison, going out only three or four times to get some missing scraps and just enough food and water to let him finish the job (completely ignoring the new vigilantes starting to go out at night).

(He meets Robin!Dick once and most likely a still-stray Jason, but he quickly forgets about them, since he's too depressed to care.)

Once finished the project, Danny goes stargazing as Phantom at the highest point of the city one last time, where (a still not overly paranoid) Batman converges to assess him as a threat.

The two talk and have a heart-to-heart (mostly because Bruce sees another grieving kid like Dick and tries somehow to help), but nothing B says is enough to make Phantom desist from what Bruce thinks is commiting suicide.

However, Danny still thanks him for trying and for treating him like a person (Anti-Ecto-Acts are mentioned during their talk and you can bet that later B is gonna check on them) and that Batman is going to be a good dad for his kids.

(This comment leads later to a kinder timeline than the mess that is canon. ꒰(@｀꒳´)꒱ )

Danny manages to snatch one hug from the man, then he flees to the secret chamber, where he “goes to sleep” after engaging every lock and shield.

Even if Batman managed to tag Danny with a bug, he misses his signal once he goes underground and that makes him regret not being able to save him.

Maybe if he had been more open and emotionally reachable, he would have succeeded?

(...and that's how Bruce starts to go to therapy, but shhhhh!)

Years pass and Danny stays as a Sleeping Beauty, however, despite being good at science, he doesn't know everything, so he couldn't have imagined that water would filter through the rock and start pooling inside the chamber (the equipment is luckily waterproof).

However, the passive Ecto-radiation and the small amount of pure ectoplasm that leaks from the top of the filter, makes the water slowly turn into its Lazarus variant.

Though, contrary to LoA’s Water, this Lazarus Pit is pure and uncorrupted due to the filtering machines. 

Over the years (~15… 😏) the water digs through the chamber and shapes it into a cave that eventually connects to the Batcave. 

Maybe the cave-in of a wall, makes some of the Robins go and check if the stability of the ground is still sound and find the Lazarus Pit that covers (almost) completely both the shield and sight of what's under the surface.

When the kids report, B asks for a complete scan of the Pit and it results in discovering that there's something at the bottom.

So they send an aquatic probe to look into it directly and come up to the coffin that has something written on the top in case some ghost did manage to find Danny's spot but not enter the barrier.

(The probe, being “normal”, is able to pass without problem through the shield, though.)

The text is written in multiple languages (just in case) and reads:

“Here lies Danny Phantom. Please do not disturb me while I'm resting, as I want to half-live the saying ‘I’ll sleep when I'm dead.’”

For the first time ever, Damian snorts in genuine amusement aloud and doesn't notice (the other Bats do and start freaking out), but then the camera zooms to the face of the boy inside the coffin and Bruce does a double take as he recognizes the kid he wasn't able to save.

That moment of shock is enough to make the man freeze and not be able to react in time to Damian lunging to the Pit and diving directly inside of it. 

The BatFam starts to freak out even more and try to direct the probe to go and save Damian, but at the end they just manage to see live what he's doing.

Like it's just a normal salvage, Robin!Damian just ignites the instant floating buoys and that makes all the equipment emerge, with Damian sitting on the top of the coffin, completely ignoring the calls of the Bats. 

Immediately, Damian starts hacking the controls of the coffin, but it's not needed since as soon as he starts typing, the computer lights up and seemingly recognizes him, giving him immediate full access. 

Still ignoring the calls (no one can reach him since he's too far from the shore), Damian disengages the lock and “defrosts” Danny.

It takes a bit for him to wake up, but as soon as Danny starts to blink blearily, Damian is into his face, shouting.

“‘I'll sleep when I'm dead’? Really, Danny? You absolute moron!” 

It takes a couple of seconds to register anything, but as soon as he does, Danny gasps and leaps at Robin, snake-bear hugging him, as he climbs and clings all over the other boy.

(If either of them is crying while laughing, no they aren't: it's just the lingering Lazarus Water on their faces.)

Too scared to accidentally trigger the unknown “being” into constricting Damian to death, the BatFam waits, analyzing the interaction.

(Cass silently reassures them that they aren't a threat.) 

“How?!” It's the first thing that ‘Phantom’ says, leaning a bit back to cup their hands on Damian's face, trying to look into his eyes, but the mask is in the way.

Casually, Robin unmasks himself (!!) and smirks smugly, holding the meta(?) by the waist.

“You do remember that incident at the Egyptian Exhibit, don't you?” A nod, accompanied by a desolate puppy-like expression. “Did you really think that I would have waited that long to come back and find you?”

This time the tears are undeniable and, to hide them, the being buries their head in the crook of Damian's shoulder, clinging harder, but not enough to harm him. 

“Where's Sam?” The being asks, muffled, after a while.

“No clue, I just started remembering from reading the pun and seeing your face.”

“Humph, that checks out. ...We'll have to go and look for her, since she's twice as stubborn as you and so she would have come back too.” Damian snorts in amusement, but nods. There's a pause, then Danny jolts, leaning back from him to look at the other better with a frown.

“Wait, why are you drenched in ectoplasm?!” He looks around and sees the Pit. “Wtf dude, this is so not healthy for you, com’on, I have to decontaminate you, you moron!”

(At this, Danny gets so many points in B’s books.)

“Nah, don’t bother.” Damian shrugs, putting a hand on his own chest. “I know my body and with the memory of past me coming back, I think I’m already on the way of becoming a halfa? At least, the humming beside my heart feels much like your Core.”

Danny startles and puts his own hand on the other’s to assess himself.

“Before taking a dip in this Pit to salvage your ass, it wasn’t noticeable, but the ectoplasm must have fed it enough to become active.” Damian guesses as Danny examines the evidence.

“Not ‘on the way’, try ‘already are’. How’s that even possible?” Danny gapes.

“Sweet! Now we can go flying together!” Damian beams.

“Forget that for a second and answer me! This feels like a complete baby-Core, much like mine right after the Accident, but at the same time it’s older?” Danny frowns. “Like 15 or so years old.” Looks up at Damian in confusion.

“That checks out. My current grandfather is a cultist revenant ass (*BatFam gasps in shock*) who’s obsessed with using Pits of corrupted ectoplasm to stay alive. I got tossed inside one a couple of times to be revived as well and I don’t doubt for a second that some of it was used to develop me in the artificial womb.”

“Duuuude, how does your new life sound more crazy than ours back then?”

“The merit of choosing to be reincarnated as the heir of a vigilante Father,” Damian points at the Bats with a thumb, making Danny notice them for the first time, “the ‘curse’ of an interesting life and the chance to meet you again, I guess.”

After a glance that promises ‘we’ll talk about that later’ to Damian, Danny turns properly to the BatFam and startles at seeing Batman. “Oh, it’s the Bat-dude!” Quick glance at the rest of the people, “I knew you would be a good dad! Tucker wouldn’t have chosen you otherwise!” 

There are various splutters from every BatFam member and Damian grumbles in embarrassment.

“Wait, you know him B?” Red Robin side-turns towards Batman, frowning. “There’s no report of him in any file of the Batcomputer. And I’ve read all of them.”

“...Because I never wanted a record of my failure glaring back at me. I already gave myself a hard time as it was, it would have made things worse and Black Canary agreed with that assessment.” B admits.

“What failure?” Jason (who has another vigilante name, since, you know, the Red Hood moniker was to spite B and in this timeline there’s no need for that) gapes.

“Probably me coming down here to get some ‘Eternal Sleep’.” Danny shuts off the barrier, picks up Damian and flies with him on the shore, phasing the residual ecto from their forms. “You thought it was an euphemism for suicide, not literal, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, you did give that impression. Are you alright, son?” B looks at Damian, still not outing his civilian name to be on the safe side.

“Of course, Father. This Ectoplasm Pit has none of the junk Grandfather’s has. Danny knows his stuff and his Ecto-filters are the top notch. (Danny blushes in the bg at the praise) Heck, it could even be used to cure Pit Madness or to revive people without it in the first place.”

“Let’s not try it, please!” Danny hastily intervenes, “No dying for anyone in my family allowed now that I’m back!” 

“Dude, we aren't immortal and you know that.” Damian shoulders Danny in scolding.

“They aren't immortal, you mean. You're a halfa now. Death won't stick on us in any way that matters, so I don't want anyone getting KiA at least. If they get to the point of being old and happy, then I'm fine with them going to rest. But don't think that I will leave your side any time soon.” Danny says pointedly at Damian, who bristles.

“That's completely insane, you can't be everywhere and above all you can't stalk me everywhere! I'm Robin, Batman's right hand, I won't be babysat when I have more experience than you no-” Damian's rant gets silenced by Danny kissing him.

Even after he lets go, Damian's brain is still blue screening while the BatFam is either gaping or catcalling.

“Tucker, or whatever you new name is, why do you think I went to sleep there after you all died in your past life?” Points at the coffin. “You remember that ‘Other Me’?”

“Vaguely, details are still a bit fuzzy, but he didn’t say much anyway after he tied us to the boiler…” Damian blinks, still a bit dazed by the kiss, but then grimaces at Danny’s flinch.

“Yeah, well, he actually went insane after losing you since that gave him an Obsession Failure. He broke down so deeply and irreversibly that it twisted him enough that accepting Vlad’s help led him to being the Scourge of Humanity. I-I… promised you to never become like him, so… this was the only way I could do that. I didn’t know what else to do, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to save you after all!” Danny breaks down, crying and sobbing and collapsing against Damian, as he cradles him in his arms.

Damian tries to console him with both physical affection (hugs and caresses) and murmuring reassurances (things like ‘it’s okay, it’s alright, it’s not your fault’) until the outburst slows down and his latest proposition catches Danny’s attention.

“Do you want to meet Batcow? She’s a true sweetheart, her therapist abilities are without equals among the living.”

“...You have a pet cow?” Danny’s voice is still rough with tears, but his disbelief is unmistakable.

“Of course I can have a pet cow! I saved her from an inhumane slaughterhouse, what I’ve seen there even made me swear off meat!” Damian!Tucker says righteously, but then realization sinks in as he stares with growing horror into Danny’s wide eyes.

“Oh Ancients, I’ve become like Sam! And I can’t even go back on the belief of my new life because both she and my current self have a point!”

That seems another breaking point, because Danny starts laughing so hard that he’s crying again.

“It’s not funny Danny, I’m having a crisis here!” Damian!Tucker cries in despair (to hide the relief that his best friend/crush/future boyfriend? isn’t as hopeless and depressed as before) as he lightly shakes the other, making him laugh even harder.

(He won’t let him go either. As Damian, now Tucker has all the skills he lacked in his past life and can protect his People. He won’t fail again.)

[sanguineterrain]

the worst day of february | jason todd

Summary: Cold and defeated on the worst day of February, you stand on your apartment rooftop, contemplating giving up. Then the Red Hood drops in and makes you tea in your apartment.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 2k

Warnings/tags: suicidal ideation, disordered eating and sleeping habits, depression, reader doesn't attempt suicide but thinks about it a lot. a sort of hopeful ending. jason being a really really good guy.

please take care of yourselves - don't read this if you think it'll upset you.

divider

One day in February—it doesn't matter which day; it might be someone else's day too, but it doesn't matter, and it doesn't matter which February either—you realize that you've forgotten how to be happy.

When you think of February, you don't think of much, except that on those big visual calendars of the months that they put up in kindergarten, February is always pink. Pink like an organ. Pink like guts. Pink like love.

But your February—all the Februarys you've had—is blue-gray. It's like someone's cast a moody shadow over your February. It's the director's choice, clearly, to light your February like you're at a wake. It's not your choice. It's never your choice.

Here is the problem. The problem is that you're too scared, but you want the attention of someone who's killed themselves. Shame digs its claws into you at such a perverse thought. But it's true. Even if it's one person who takes a moment to inspect your guts on the sidewalk, or your body in the bathtub, you want them to hold your rigor mortis and say, what a loss. Is there anything I can do?

And then you'd pop up from the bathwater and say, why yes, there is something you can do, would you mind changing the lighting? It's bringing me down.

You're on the roof of your apartment. You don't know why, because as stated, you're too scared. And it's nighttime, and you're a speck of dust, which is comforting at times and haunting at others. Dust on a roof. Easy to be carried off by the wind.

You don't want to die, exactly. You want to rest. No amount of sleep destroys the exhaustion. Instead of marrow in your bones, it's the desire for rest that only comes through death. Unfortunately, despite not wanting to die, death seems to be your only path.

His footsteps are quiet. You don't realize that you're not alone until he's there next to you, hunched over the ledge on his elbows.

You flinch.

"Sorry," Red Hood says, and there's no smoky breath that accompanies his words like they accompany everyone else's. You wonder where the air from his helmet's filter goes.

"It's fine," you say, even though your nervous system is still reeling. It's not fine, because you hate being scared, but it also doesn't matter, so it's fine in that way.

You have a great view from the city up here but appreciating the city is difficult when it's all blue-gray shadows. Your stomach hurts. You've never felt more unbearably yourself in your life.

"Everything okay?" Hood asks.

"Yeah," you say, not bothering to lie. Not bothering to tell the truth either.

"'S cold up here."

"I'm not gonna jump."

"Didn't say you would," Hood says mildly.

"That's why you're here. You think I'll jump, and it's your duty to make sure I don't. But I won't. Too scared. I just wallow instead."

"Wallowing ain't so good either."

"Yeah," you say, throat hurting like you've swallowed a splinter. "Probably not."

An audience would see your funeral-lit life and make the obvious prediction that something bad is about to happen. The director is telling a story, and he's giving hints. You, as the protagonist, are expecting bad things too. Perhaps this is where it starts.

"You live here?" Hood asks.

There should be a curl of fear that strikes you, because Red Hood—terrifying, gangster, born and bred Gotham Red Hood—shouldn't be landing on your rooftop and checking to make sure you aren't gonna spill your guts.

He doesn't seem so terrifying, though. He doesn't seem like a gangster either. And what's wrong with being born and bred Gotham? You like it. Hood is familiar even though you've never met him before. Something about his voice, his stance, the fact that he gives a shit enough to talk to you for a minute. It feels like maybe the universe doesn't want you to kill yourself right then.

"I live here," you say, taking too long to answer.

"Alright," he says. "Lead the way."

You look at him. He's turned around now, facing the roof access door.

"What?"

Hood points a thumb at the door. "Let's go to your place."

"Why?" Why, you ask, instead of the fuck?

"'M thirsty," he says.

Well, if he's here to assassinate you, it won't matter if you bring him to your apartment or not. And now that he's mentioned it, it is cold. Probably because you're up here without a coat. A coat hadn't seemed important when you were in your apartment choking on stale black air.

Maybe you should warn Hood about the stale black air. But you feel like he won't let you return to your apartment if you do.

Hood goes first, leading you back inside. He goes down the stairs slowly, letting you drag and set the pace. It's so stupid. You feel like crying. Why is he going down the stairs with you at your stupid slow pace?

You stop two floors down. This would be another hint to your audience, the fact that you're so close to the roof that you can just climb a couple flights.

You open your apartment. You'd left it unlocked.

"Do you often leave your place unlocked?" Hood asks.

You shrug. "I don't go out enough to get the chance."

Hood doesn't say anything else but he does do the deadbolt when you're inside, as well as the chain lock.

"Shoes off?" he asks. You nod. You both remove your shoes.

Then you stand like you're not in your own apartment. Hood herds you like a sheepdog to your tiny kitchen table. Then he starts opening cabinet doors.

"Got a kettle?" he asks.

You stare at the back of his helmet, your eyebrows knitting. "A kettle? How many Gothamites do you know own kettles?"

"It's the only dignified way to make tea," he says.

Maybe Hood isn't so born and bred Gotham. "Were you raised by British monarchs?"

"Kinda," he says. He evidently gives up on finding a kettle and instead puts water to boil on the stove, even though you have a microwave. Weirdo.

Suddenly, you realize you haven't thought about death for a whole five minutes.

"Got any decaffeinated tea?" Hood asks.

You have a barely opened box of Sleepytime. You point at the top shelf. He hums and retrieves the box, taking out three tea bags to drop into the boiling water.

Hood takes out two mugs. He's surprisingly apt at navigating an unfamiliar kitchen.

He gives you your mug and sits across from you at the table. He's huge at your table, but he gracefully crosses his legs despite the limited space.

"Didja eat?" he asks.

"I had some cereal a few hours ago," you say.

Hood nods. "Fine. But you gotta eat real dinner too."

You don't think it really matters what a corpse-in-training eats, but you nod anyway. Hood's tone invites no deliberation.

"What's your favorite food? Drink your tea."

You scrunch your face and take a hesitant sip. The hot liquid burns your tongue for a moment before you swallow.

"I like pizza," you say. "And burgers. And ramen. But lately, everything tastes like nothing."

You'd tried to find joy in food a few days ago because you couldn't find it anywhere else. You'd torn open a pack of Swedish Fish and shoved the box into your drawer after eating two pieces because it'd tasted like melted plastic to you.

Then you'd bought an expensive brand of chocolate bar, desperate to be happy, desperate to be flooded with dopamine. Nothing. You'd tossed the chocolate, feeling distinctly broken. What monster doesn't find joy in their favorite candy?

You only eat to cure the hunger pains, because you can't take anymore pain. You eat to survive. Not because you want to, but because dying by starvation takes too long.

"That's okay," Hood says. "'S good you're eating."

You scoff. "I don't need consolation."

Hood doesn't give you the satisfaction of an argument. He's going to make you feel alive in a gentler way, even though you don't deserve it. "Drink your tea."

You drink. His mug remains untouched. You feel like you're in a play. This isn't even real tea, it's just colored water. And Hood's stage direction is to not drink his colored water. It's just for show.

You look out the window, expecting to make eye contact with an audience member. You're waiting for the second act. You're waiting for the end.

"I don't want anymore," you say when your mug is half-finished. Trying to finish the tea feels like prolonging the inevitable. The audience wants to go home. They have lives to get back to. They can't live with you and the stage forever.

To your surprise, Hood nods. "Okay. C'mon."

He stands up from the table. You follow him to your bedroom. He pulls open your shirt drawer. You notice the two guns strapped to his hips, two strapped to his ankles, and one bigger gun on his back. You wait for the director's guidance on how you should feel. None comes, so you remain apathetic.

"Choose a shirt," he says. You pick a plain pink t-shirt. Hood closes that drawer and opens your pants drawer. "Choose."

You take a pair of worn pajama shorts because you overheat when you sleep, especially when you're depressed. You're sweaty from your lie-in till two that you took earlier today. Your face is greasy. You're sure your hair isn't nice either.

"Go change," Hood says, walking out of your room. "I'll be outside." He closes the door behind him.

You change, if only out of shock of the Red Hood giving you orders.

"Done," you say, probably too quiet for anyone to hear. But Hood comes in. He looks you over.

"Good." He points to the bed. "Lie down."

You do. Your sheets are gross. They haven't been changed in at least a few months. You're suddenly swollen with shame that anyone, even the Red Hood, is seeing you in this state. Your eyes fill with stinging tears. You should've died before it came to this.

"I'm sorry you had to stop to do this," you say.

Hood's silent for a moment. Then he walks to your side of the bed. He crouches down. His helmet eyes glow in the dark. You've never been less afraid.

This is a plot twist you did not foresee. A new character. A guardian angel. Red in your blue-gray.

"'S not always gonna feel like this," he says.

More tears, more splinters in your throat. "It's felt like this for so long."

"Yeah," he says gently. Gentler than you fucking deserve. "I know."

The writer has overridden the director's wants, and has introduced some new foreshadowing. Should your audience believe it? Or is this a fake-out?

You lie back and want to die a little less. One young woman in your audience chokes up. She believes that you believe you’ll live. She will stay here for as long as it takes for you to make it through act two.

"If you have to go, it's okay," you say.

Hood settles against the wall near your bed. He pulls one knee against his chest. It's almost like you have a friend.

"Nah," he says. "I don't have anywhere to be. I finished my patrol. I'll stay till you fall asleep."

He doesn't ask to stay, and that feels good, not having to make the choice, to face the shame of wanting another person to care about you.

You screw your eyes shut. "Thank you," you whisper.

"I'm gonna bring you a kettle," Hood says.

You laugh. It's small and brittle but it's real. "Okay." You'll have to make it through the night. Red Hood is bringing you a kettle.

You lay there for a long time, not sleeping. You keep your eyes closed. You focus on keeping your breathing even. Then you open your eyes to check.

Hood is still there, sitting against the wall. You wonder if he's fallen asleep too. His voice startles you.

"Still here," he says. "Said I wouldn't go till you sleep. Meant it. Don't worry."

Maybe tomorrow's sun won't be so blue or gray. You fall asleep.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

The Opening Act

Pop-Up Prompt: Valentine's Day/Love | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: Over the Clothes Sexual Acts | Tags: Valentine's Day, Roommates, First Kiss, Confessions, Getting Together, Resolved Mutual Pining, Steve Harrington Will Jump in With Both Feet

The grocery store selection is lacking, at best. Steve waited too long. Dragging his feet on what he should, or shouldn't, do. If anything at all. It's Eddie. Eddie, his roommate.

Eddie, who probably doesn't feel the same way Steve's been feeling. But Steve has to find out. The not knowing, the possibility, is eating him alive. Nobody's ever accused Steve of not jumping in with both feet when he feels things. He wears his heart on his sleeve, according to Robin, anyway. 

He doesn't mind. He'll wear it there, and someday someone will be happy to see it. At least he hopes so. Sometimes he feels like Eddie might be the one who finally would.

"She must be pretty special if you're taking this long to choose."

Steve turns towards the old woman standing behind him.

"Girlfriend? Or someone you hope will be?"

Steve grins, just a little quirk of his lip, "That last one."

He's not gonna make corrections, Mother Goose here can think what she wants. He likes girls. But he loves Eddie. A lot.

So much so he's not sure where to put it all. 

"If you pick something out with love, she'll know," she says, smiling.

Steve nods. 

"Thanks," he says, and she rolls away, leaving him standing there, still unsure of what would best express his love. 

"Hey! I got pizza," Eddie says from the kitchen, shirtless, but when he looks up at Steve, his expression closes off, just a little. "Oh. Right. It's Valentine's Day. I'll save you some."

Steve's confused, then realizes he's standing there with flowers. Eddie doesn't want flowers. Eddie doesn't even have an inkling that they could be for him. This was a dumb idea. Steve tosses them on the counter.

"They're for Robin. Pizza's great," Steve says, and Eddie grins, flipping the lid of the pizza box open. 

"Look at this thing. It's a heart. Like, surprise! Everybody gets bludgeoned with Valentine's Day, like it or not."

The pizza is heart-shaped. Even the pepperoni slices are cut into hearts, and he wonders who on earth the pizza place has hired with that kind of get up and go. Not him and Robin, that's for damn sure. 

Sure, they'd solve a Russian mystery on company time, but go out of their way to make things special for the customers? No fucking way.

Maybe kids are more motivated these days. 

Eddie pulls two pepperoni hearts off of it, shoving one in his own mouth, and one in Steve's. Pepperoni stolen off slices is the best tasting pepperoni, or so Eddie has loudly declared, over and over.

Steve chews his contraband pepperoni, and puts the brown paper grocery bag on the counter. Eddie immediately starts digging through it, "Oooh! Honeycombs and Miller, you do love me, Harrington."

Shit. 

He does love him. Like, obviously. 

"And a heart-shaped box of candy? You shouldn't have, Harrington," he says sarcastically, tossing it next to the abandoned flowers.

He'd like to be locked into Eddie's heart-shaped box for weeks. 

Steve blushes at the thought. He doesn't even know what that'd entail with Eddie.

But he wants it. Wants anything Eddie would be down for, honestly.

Just wants Eddie.

Steve's having a minor crisis. He can't look away from Eddie's remaining nipple like a weirdo, like he hasn't seen him shirtless nine-thousand times. And now his dick's suddenly being insistent. Eddie's paying no attention, rooting around through the groceries like a raccoon, and Steve realizes nearly every item he pulls from the bag was specifically bought for Eddie.

And it was bought with love. Mother Goose was right. Hopefully Eddie is feeling it, even if he doesn't know what he's feeling. 

That's okay. Steve can love him, can buy what he likes, just to see him happy. It should be enough. 

It's not enough.

Steve grabs Eddie by the back of the neck, and Eddie squawks. Steve presses his mouth to Eddie's, and when he slides his tongue inside, he tastes pepperoni. It's not the best first kiss. 

But the fact that Eddie's gripping his sides, pulling him closer, makes up ground.

When they break apart, Eddie's breathing heavy, eyes a little wild, but he's still looking right at Steve, like he's unwilling to let Steve back away from this.

"The flowers. They were for you. I lied."

"Sucks for Robin, then," Eddie says, and Steve laughs.

"You on board with this?" 

"Are you fucking kidding me? I've been dropping hints for two years, Harrington. It's about fucking time."

Steve laughs, leaning forward, resting his forehead against Eddie's.

"Your breath stinks," Eddie says.

"Whose fault is that? I was minty fresh when I walked in here, Pepperoni Poacher."

Eddie laughs, and Steve pulls him closer, until they're kissing again. Eddie's breath is no better, but he doesn't give a shit. He's here, they're here, and he's gonna make the goddamn best of it. 

He slides his hand down Eddie's chest, quickly moving south, and Eddie just kicks his legs further apart, an invitation if Steve's ever seen one.

Eddie's in sweatpants, Steve's sweatpants, and they aren't hiding shit.

Steve presses the heel of his hand to Eddie's dick through the fabric.

"You could buy me dinner first," Eddie teases, but contradicts his own words, by grinding up into Steve's large palm.

"I think you bought me dinner," Steve says, nodding towards the pizza, still working his hand, getting a good feel. Letting the anticipation, the desire, build. 

Determined to make Eddie come undone, right here.

Eddie's head is tilted back, panting, exposing his throat, and his hands have a death grip on the edge of the kitchen counter. It makes Steve feel wanted. 

Maybe even loved.

And this hasn't even started yet. Not really. This is just the opening act.

"I, I," Eddie starts, choking on the words, "I ordered the pizza like that! Paid an extra fiver!" Eddie blurts, and Steve laughs, leaning into him, rewarding him with a firm stroke. 

"Of course you did."

If you want to write your own, or go see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! ❤️

[kisssukuna33]

Can i request Sukuna hyping up and being very devoted to his wife who is insecure about her body after having a baby?

Husband Sukuna comforting Wife reader who's insecure about her body after having a baby

"He finally went to sleep" Sukuna said letting out a big sigh of relief as he sat down on the couch beside you.

As much as it was a blessing, being first time parents really took a toll on you both. It's only been 2 months so far and the baby has pretty much changed your life upside down. The dark circles visible in both of your faces say that enough.

"He kept crying even after you left to check the restaurant this morning" a displeased sigh left your mouth matching your husband's.

"I told you to sleep woman" Sukuna said gently grabbing your face into his hands as he observed the dark circles under your eyes, a concerned expression taking over his face.

"Tell that to your son, he's the one keeping me up"

"That's why I told you to call me if he started to give you shit. That's it, I'm closing the restaurant for 3 more weeks" Sukuna said, no almost like he scolded you.

"You're going to lose customers if you keep closing it like this" You voiced your concern because you know Sukuna didn't spend time in the restaurant more than 4 days since you have given birth. Everytime he had to leave he looked at you like he's leaving you alone in a Battlefield.

"That's not something you have to concern yourself with, I pay the workers anyway" He got up from the couch as he went to your shared bedroom and came back with a bag in his hands.

"Besides I already earned enough for my family to be comfortable, you know that" He said as he put the bag in your hands.

"what's this?" You asked curiously taking a peek inside the bag. A dress. A gorgeous tube dress with a large flower in the middle and cut out from the sides. You can never compete with Sukuna's taste when it comes to choosing clothes. He knows what looks good on you everytime and you never doubted his taste until maybe now.

You have given birth only 2 months ago, your post pregnancy belly and the stretch marks surrounding it is still pretty much visible, not to mention you are completely a different size from before. You anxiously check the inside of your dress to see the size Sukuna bought you, in deep down you wanted to check if Sukuna also took notice in your change of weight. But for some reason the size tag has been ripped off from the dress already. That sly bastard.

"Wear it, We are going out for dinner. I already called Choso so he will babysit tonight" Sukuna said as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your hair. He wanted to make you happy, he really did. He didn't want you to remember the early part of your parenting journey as only stress. He thought maybe finally going out for dinner can be a good change for the both of you. But it didn't take him that long to notice the sour expression in your face.

"uh Kuna how about we-"

"No we are going, you have been inside the house for 2 months. You need this" he said in a stern voice leaving no room for arguments.

You sigh thinking of another way to not wear this dress.

"This looks expensive" That earned an eyebrow raise from Sukuna.

"of course it isn't. When the fuck have I ever bought you cheap shit?" Sukuna said like he's personally offended by your comment.

"That's not what i- Anyway maybe this is too much for a dinner" please work! Please work! You mentally chanted as you continued with the lie "I'm gonna save this for a special occasion".

Sukuna wore a dumb look on his face. Clearly trying to figure out what nonsense are you spouting because he can just buy you a new one? Like he always do?

You avoided meeting meeting Sukuna's gaze because that man can read you like a book.

"Woman what are you- And Why do you keep looking that way? Look at me" Sukuna said as he kneeled down in front you.

He cupped your face with one hand as he brought it closer to his face.

"spit it out"

You left out a sigh as you began telling him how you felt about your post pregnancy body and it didn't take long for Sukuna's face to drop. He felt like it was his fault that you felt this way. It's been few weeks since you two shared intimacy and Sukuna wasn't able to remind you how much devoted he is to your body even after you gave birth ( your doctor said 4 weeks of no sex but Sukuna being the protective husband he is, decided to wait atleast two months).

The moment you finished your explanation Sukuna picked you up into his arms. He wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom.

He gently put you down the bed as he started to take off your shirt. You were a bit nervous at first but decided to let him do it anyway. The moment you see the scars visible in your belly you looked away hiding from Sukuna's gaze.

"Look at me, Don't look away"

Sukuna brought his face closer to your scars. First he ran his fingers through them. Like a blind man reading a book and touching it with care. Then his lips started to touch your skin. He kissed you softly slowly making his way around your scars. He kept bringing his eyes to yours reminding them to keep watching. Sukuna didn't miss a single scar, no. When he finally separated his lips from your body, you felt like he casted a spell on you. A purifying spell making all the negative energy around your body go away.

"You went through hell with the brat, those scars are reminders that how strong of a fight you put up. Scars or without scars you are still the same gorgeous woman I fell in love with 2 years ago" listening to Sukuna's words you can't help but let the tears fall down. How much lucky you must be to have this man in your life. If you could marry him again you would do it in a heartbeat.

"And don't you dare call my wife ugly I will fucking kill you"

That earned a giggle from your part as you smacked his chest playfully.

"Your wife must be a very lucky woman then" you murmured wrapping your arms around Sukuna's neck as you pull him into your embrace.

"Nah, I'm the lucky one"

[lmvari]

⟳ 07. SOLACE

You sigh, staring at the message. You stand up from your seat and excuse yourself past the students watching the defense. You step outside the lecture hall and immediately spot him.

He’s leaning against the wall, hands tucked into his pockets, head tilted just slightly like he’s been watching the door this whole time. The second he sees you, he moves, reaching into his jacket and pulling something out.

"Here." He holds out a familiar can. Your favorite energy drink. "You probably didn’t get much sleep."

You freeze for a second too long before taking it from him. Your fingers brush against his, and it lingers, just for a moment.

Why is he doing this?

Your chest tightens with something you can’t name. He didn’t have to. Even if he wants something from you, he never needs to do this. Yet he still does.

You stare at the drink in bewilderment. "You didn’t have to," you say, voice quieter than you mean it to be.

Kuni exhales through his nose, something like a scoff but gentler. "I know," he says, like it’s obvious.

You don’t say anything further. You let out a shaky breath. You don’t know whether it’s because of your upcoming defense or it’s the flurry of emotions whirling inside you.

Apparently, Kuni thinks it’s the former because after a while of silence between the two of you, you hear him click his tongue but speaks with a gentle voice, "You’re worrying too much. You’re gonna do fine.” He moves his hand and flicks your forehead. “Don’t overthink it."

The words settle in your chest differently than they should. He says it like a fact, like it’s impossible for you to fail, like he believes in you more than you believe in yourself.

“Ow..” You rub at your forehead and glare at him jokingly. He smirks at you, amused.

You swallow, a small, fragile smile breaking through your nerves. "Thanks, Kuni."

For once, you don’t try to fight it.

His expression flickers. Something shifts behind his eyes, something so brief you almost think you imagined it. His lips part slightly, like he wants to say something, but then he only clears his throat and takes a step back.

"Go kill it or whatever," he mutters, waving a hand dismissively, like he’s already said too much. "I’ll see you later."

You watch him turn away, your heart a little too light for something that shouldn’t mean anything.

But this time, you don’t shut down the warmth blooming quietly in your chest.

⟳ BLURRED LINES — PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

You say you’re just friends. You say it every time you leave a party together, every time you wake up tangled in sheets, every time you swear it’s the last time. But habits form, lines blur, and pretending gets harder when jealousy starts to sting.

NOTE this is a short time-skip from the last chapter coz i didn’t wanna prolong it hehe the plot is moving again guys woohoo

TAGLIST @joiurz @sketcheeee @mywillt0live @kyouzki @ylapsha45 @eternallykira-143 @bananasquash @kunikissr @swivi @ariesloves @lloversss @b-bbytears @kokoscutie @vi0let-writes @tomsishere @franaby @scaraenthusiast1 @iloveescara @usagiarchive @ilovecats-26 @quiechee @snetr @axquella @tatsuomii @lalalaloveallmydays @liyahbug @feiherp

if your name is in bold, that means i can’t tag you

[gyuwrites]

lmao not you fiddling your way into @kissbyoon @jjjjeonww and @wonkierideul’s event bro💀

like it was THEIR TRIO event and you just had to bump your way into it? is that how lonely you are? you’re a fucking loser. i was looking forward to what the 3 of them were gonna write for vernon so we can see their collaboration in their writing for one member but you just ruined it with a classic “cupid’s arrows are meant to be shot at mortals not humans!” 💀💀💀💀

keep this in mind that you’re a meddling fuck ass weirdo bitch and that /@wonkierideul only invited you because she pitied you, not because she wanted you in the event. and im sure /@kissbyoon and /@jjjjeonww didn’t even want you in there too. they only said yes so they wouldn’t seem rude because thats how fucking loser you are.

HELP? who tf even are you? I'm sorry but are you close with honestly ANY of them? i never asked, let alone BEG dani to let me join the event, SHE was the one that asked me if i wanted to join the event. the only thing I've said before anything was "I've always wanted to make an event with a friend" because she promoted it on discord and it reminded me that I've always wanted to make an event with my moots. unlike you, I'm pretty close with dani. so who's the sore loser now? seems like it's YOU who don't even have the guts to write this without being anonymous. calling me a meddling weirdo when you're the one meddling into our friendship? i think it's the other way around. so stop dick riding, it's an ugly look. just know, my moots will see this including dani herself, so let's see who's the real loser. (also everyone's gonna see this, including the 3 cuties you tagged, oh well they're gonna bite your ass)

ALSO, please look forward to vernon's fic. I'll be sure to make it pierce your petty heart. the big ass arrow coming right at you, bitch. gtfo my blog.