#shoves my whole fist in my mouth and chews on it

[blackbat09]

fine and regular about xB casually mentioning he wears glasses while running a vault with iskall and false

i’m normal. and fine.

[rainrot4me]

excuse me if this is out of line but can you make Ben sqrt or like just smth insane cause like he needs to be humbled fr… HE needs to be the one whimpering and begging smh😒…

Oh hell yeah.

TW: Bondage, male squirting, overstimulation, sexual torture

𐚁₊⊹

If he was going to act like a little shit, then he’d have to deal with you being a little shit too.

Ben whined, gasping on his knees as his eyes watered, tears pooling at the corners before falling amongst the black liquid spilling from his waterline. The hardwood floor felt so cold underneath his bare legs, digging into his skin and aching horribly.

He’d been here for an hour at least, he thought so anyways. It was getting hard to tell as he gasped again, hunching over and straining his arms tied behind his back with a leather belt. His own leather belt.

“Oh fuck… please…” He hiccuped, swollen and damp lips hanging loose, jaw slack against his words. His head felt heavy, skull clamping with every tense of his abdomen, every pulse of his thighs. But besides all of that, his cock hurt.

It was wonderful at first, his eyes rolling and teeth chewing down on his cheek, blissfully rolling his hips down against the vibration of the wand vibrator tied to his length. The head of the vibrator sat nestled right under his tip, pushing down against the head of his cock and pushing ropes of cum out one by one, his moans ecstasy filled.

But after his third time cumming with the vibrator on the highest setting, it didn’t feel all that good anymore. But then came the fourth time, then the fifth. By the sixth he wasn’t even fully cumming anymore, cock just spasming while his abdomen clenched painfully tight, tiny clear drop of liquid spitting out of his slit. It was painful as fuck.

This was his punishment after all. This, and you.

You just ignored him. Sat at your vanity, phone in hand, scrolling on whatever website looked the most interesting and just completely oblivious to what was happening behind you. Ben got a clear shot of the back of your head, your stupid ego tipping and making this whole thing happen.

So what if he was a little rude? So what if he wasn’t in the mood to be serious and actually listen when you were trying to tell him something important? So what if he had better things to do, like playing his Nintendo. Well, you told him what. Especially when you knocked his ass to the ground and put him here.

So now Ben’s jeans were slugged around his ankles, his shirt stuffed into his mouth and soaked with his slobber and tears, his hands clasped behind him. He looked pitiful, pathetic, and you wouldn’t even look. His moans were obnoxious, ragged whimpers and desperate muffled pleas to let him up, to turn the toy off, please. It just hurts now.

When his gut clenched once more, hips jerking and eyes slamming shut as his half-hard cock whined through another dry orgasm, you finally sat your phone down, swiveling your chair around. He could’ve cried.

“Princ- Princess, oh my god- please-” He sobbed, spitting the shirt sleeve that was shoved into his mouth down onto the hardwood beside him, shoulders hunched and neck craned forward as he tried to press closer to you, his bony knees digging and shuffling terribly. He stopped when you pressed your socked foot against his chest, leaning into the weight and whining his pain as the vibrator still continued, his cock screaming for relief.

“How many times have you came?” You asked nonchalantly, voice not giving a hint of interest as you stared at the elf’s deep red cheeks, his nose snotty and slobber and tears dripping down. He whined, his fists clenched behind him as he thought, cringing. “I dunno- Can’t ‘member- A lot, it’s been a lot-” Ben already knew that wasn’t the right answer, but he couldn’t take it anymore, could barely think to speak anymore.

“Eleven. It’s been eleven times, ‘kay? I think you’ve got one more in you.” But he didn’t. He was barely even cumming now, mystery liquids or nothing at all was all that would push out anymore, his cock spent and raw. The blond shook his head, his pointed ears fluttering and blushed as he sobbed, terrified as you kneeled down in front of him. “Nonono- Wait a min-” He hissed as your gripped his cock, your hand wrapped tightly around his girth and the toy that was tied on, clenching your fist. He tried to pull away.

His thighs were shaking as you reached up, empty hand quick to wrap around his throat and squeeze. He gasped loudly, coughing spit up as you cut off his airway, fingers digging into his skin. His mind was wrecked, thoughts barely piecing together as you began to quickly jerk him off, fist pumping as a nauseating pace. “Can’t-” He sputtered, gritting his teeth as his hips involuntarily jerked.

“Yeah, you can. You don’t get a choice.” You smiled sweetly, gazing into his teary eyes as his ears twitched and fluttered, face tight and strained as he gutturally whimpered through the grasp on his throat.

Pressure was building, not like he was going to cum though. He didn’t know what was happening, but he couldn’t fight against it, could barely register it as you began to smile with your teeth. His hips jerked forward, eyes clenched shut as he just sobbed, defenseless against your devastating pace.

His cock felt so tight, white hot pain running up and down his length, shredding him. He couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stop his knees from spreading, lowering his ass onto the ground and gagging as you gripped his throat tighter, lungs screaming and tight for air. He pulled hard against the belt around his wrists, knuckles white and raw as he finally let go, screaming into the overwhelming sensation that slammed into him.

His eyes shot open, watching through glazed vision as his cock sprayed hot, clear liquid onto your shirt, covering your torso. He thought he was pissing, mind absolutely shattered as he let his hips stutter through it, the pain finally subsiding as you tugged the last of the liquid out of his flaccid cock, wringing him completely dry. There was no telling how he even had anything left.

“Nasty fuck.” You grit as you shed your sopping shirt, tugging the vibrator off of his cock and tossing it to the floor, watching as your boyfriend’s body slumped to the floor. His face pressed into the hardwood, ass up as he contorted, limp against his wrist restraints. You watched as his ears twitched haphazardly, his lips hanging open as he sobbed into the wood, mumbling something you couldn’t understand.

You laughed, trailing to the bathroom as you went to grab a towel. Maybe he’d listen now.

[blockedbykei]

manager!reader x tsukki please

karasuno team making predictions about who will be the first one to become a dad in the future, not knowing it will be tsukki 🫢

say that theyre having a reunion and all of them goes 0_o after seeing readers bby bump, you could do the rest tbh😭❤️

currently living off my mobile data 🙏 tysm for this request

— little easter egg here if u see it

the boys were always eager to place bets on things unnecessary. who can spike the most balls, who can drink the most milk, who can shove the most meat in their mouth without chewing it. they always bargained a few yens or free food.

it had rubbed on you a few bets later.

in the night before sugawara, daichi, shimizu, and asahi's graduation day, the whole team had decided to have a sleepover inside the gym. the boys set up their futons on the court, while the girls stayed at the stage, futons side by side.

but you were all gathered in the middle, clad in mismatched pyjamas, snacks tossed around, dinner melted in your stomachs. you were guaranteed that this night would hold a special place in your heart– something to look back to when change begins the next day.

"who's most likely to...?" kageyama falls back, head on a pillow beside hinata's thigh, a finger on his chin. "go to jail?"

you and tsukishima point at hinata. yamaguchi points at yachi, and she, including kageyama, sugawara, daichi, and shimizu, point at tanaka. asahi points at noya, as well as narita, kinoshita, and ennoshita.

"this one gets breaking and entering," kei says. "tanaka-san gets harrassment. noya for disorderly conduct."

you laugh and lean your shoulder on his, reaching over his lap for a mochi. you feel his nose tickle the top of your head, but it was one of the few subtle public affections he only gives you that night. kei bites on your dessert, glancing at you as a small way of expressing his gratitude.

"okay," hinata throws another pack of chips on the futon, bouncing lightly. "who's most likely to become a parent in the next 10 years?"

majority seemed to point at daichi and sugawara. they both gasp.

"why us?"

"you parent all of us!"

"we wouldn't have to if you all acted like you were properly disciplined," daichi says, eating a chip from koshi's hand. you missed the way the tips of his ears blushed.

"i think tsukishima here would be a dad first," tanaka teases. he cranes his leg and kicks his shin jovially. "eh? since you're the first one here to get a girlfriend out of all of us."

your cheeks flush, burning when kei gives you a quick glance before shrugging. nonetheless you shrug, placing your hands behind you to lean back. "i think kageyama would be a dad first."

ennoshita snorts. "i caught him talking to a girl the other day."

"he peed himself," hinata quips. "he was asking for his pen back, i'm pretty sure he'd be asking for his dignity back, too."

"fuck off, dumbass."

"i bet a thousand yen on kageyama being the first one to be a dad!" noya slams his fist, rattling the snacks on the futon. tsukishima scoffs, however ignored by the others as they buzz in excitement. "anyone on tsukishima?"

"me and yachi," yamaguchi raises his hand, lifting hitoka's. hinata joins them.

"what about me?" daichi points to himself. "i could be the first one to be a dad. i'm your senior!"

"a thousand yen on daddy daichi!"

"noya, you can't switch your bet!" tanaka yells. "stick to kageyama. i'm going with sawamura-san."

they look at you. "oh, i'm not joining."

"i am," tsukishima says. "i'm on daddy kageyama." he winks.

"please don't lose this bet," hinata pleads to his setter, hands clasped. "i don't want to lose a thousand yen. keep it in your pants."

"shut up, hinata!"

later that night, when everyone had laughed their way to sleep, you and tsukishima silently snuck out the dark gymnasium and into the open night sky, walking towards the football field and laying down in the middle of it, damp grass tickling your backs.

"seriously though, who do you think would be a dad first?" you ask him, craning your neck to the side to look at him. tsukishima was already looking at you, glasses askew, his eyebrows raised just the slighest.

"kageyama wouldn't get a girl pregnant until he's forty." he jests. "me though..."

his tone is playful, the way his shoulders come up to a shrug. you wheeze out and laugh, clutching your chest, even though it made you blush deeply. he only wrinkles his nose at you, but his smile reaches to his eyes. "i doubt, kei. i think daichi would be first."

"why didn't you say it?"

"you being their answer caught me off guard!" you argue, hands in the air. "whaddya think, though? should we let them win this?"

"i'm kinda surprised they think kageyama would be the first to be a dad considering he literally eye fucks a volleyball," he pokes your cheek. "i don't want to let them win though."

you pat his head. "don't knock me up until we're 41, 'kay?"

tsukishima got you pregnant at 27.

and while you were both elated at the sight of two lines at a cheap stick, it was soon dropped at the realization that you (technically he did) had let them won one of the bets.

("keep it inside you until you're forty!"

"i can't fucking do that, smartass.")

you both hoped that they'd long forgotten the 11 year bet, that the minute they stepped through the door, everyone would gasp at the sight of your growing belly and coo at the thought of little blondes running around your home and into their arms.

much to your dismay, it was the first thing they brought up.

"a thousand yen!" hinata exclaims, his hand already out to accept their cash.

they immediately hand out their cash in his palm before scurrying up to awe at your belly, all bent to face it. you place your hands on top, tsukishima splaying his fingers protectively on your hip.

"it's so big!"

"honey, don't say that," shimizu swats tanaka on his head.

yachi takes your hand in both hers, shaking in excitement. "how far long?!"

you smile. "four months."

kageyama, with hinata under his arm, approaches you with a grin so condescending. "i'm going to bully your child to death," he tells kei.

"i'm going to bully you to death, virgin boy."

"i- i am not a virgin!"

the rest of the evening was spent gawping at your belly. you'd only allowed asahi, daichi, hinata, yachi, shimizu, and the godfather yamaguchi to touch your stomach.

(yamaguchi had fainted when kei announced he'd be the godfather).

and while everyone else were occupied at the sport playing on the tv, you rest your back on kei's chest, body between his legs, laced fingers on top of your stomach. it felt like the sleepover back then; and you're too emotionally over the edge that it sends an overwhelming tear on your eyes.

tsukishima cranes his neck to look down at you and wipes your tear, pushing your hair behind you. "why you crying, love?"

"nothing," you sniffle, snuggling deeper into him. though he seemed to have read your mind, and placed a warm kiss on your temple.

"hey," nishinoya stands up, tanned arms stretching. "i bet a thousand yen little tsukishima here is a boy."

you and tsukishima yell at him to stop.

but 8 out of 15 voted for a girl (ennoshita, sugawara, yachi, shimizu, yamaguchi, you, tsukishima)

7 of those voted for a boy and strictly told tsukishima to train him to play volleyball.

those 7 players paid outside the delivery room when tsukishima came out with a babygirl in his hands, telling everyone that she was hoshi, who had his eyes and hair, but had your smile that he loved and adored.

[izvmimi]

cw: smut, minors dni. brat!reader. angry sex that turns soft. not really infidelity but a little targeted flirting on the part of reader. female anatomy for reader. f! receiving oral. penetrative sex.

“You’re getting way too good at getting on my damn nerves.”

The door to your hotel room is barely closed by the time he starts his tirade, but neither of the Itoshi brothers are particularly known for having any type of manners, and the current state of affairs is that you’ve successfully pissed Rin off the entire night. It doesn’t help that Rin’s kind of a crybaby, and his beautiful eyelashes line red-rimmed eyes right now; in fact his whole face is red from embarrassment, and as you kick your high heels off, he’s glaring at you with aggravation, hands balled into fists.

“So?” you ask flippantly, turning to him with a flourish in your satin, form-fitting dress that seems to practically mock him. You don’t intend to spin that joyfully but it works for you tremendously. After all, Rin takes himself far too seriously and it’s your God-given task to cut him down to size. Flirting with his brother - well, barely so - has worked wonders for you. Rin is now so hot he’s practically ripping his shirt off at the collar as he tries to loosen it, and you plop onto the king sized bed in practical glee. 

This isn’t the first time you’ve provoked him like this and it works every time.

You don’t have to do much. Just a few heavy lidded glances in Sae’s direction, a little too much interest in whatever the asshole has to say, letting your eyes linger on his drink then on the curve of his lips for a little too long, shrugging when Sae disrespectfully asks you, right in front of his brother, if you’re willing to spend time with an actual athlete before declining.

There will be a point in time where Sae’s advances towards you result in his face drenched in sweetened alcohol, but for now, when Rin’s waffling about how much you mean to him despite being desperate for your attention, keeping you on his arm for event after event, you don’t have to be his ride-or-die.

But you can ride him. 

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to prove but if you keep fucking playing with me, you’re going to end up biting off more than you can chew.”

He’s a lot of talk and a lot of energy as he tears off your panties, but he’s the one with his face shoved into your folds just moments later, sliding his tongue up and over and along every part of you, lapping up your cream like milk, drinking up your squeals and moans like sweet ambrosia. His arms are practically wrapped around your lower half, dragging your hips up to his face as he sucks and swallows, spitting on your clit the lesser half out of disgust, the greater half out of sheer desire. Face still covered in your slick, and practically drooling, he takes your lips in his mouth again and kisses fervently, pulling your leg around his waist as he descends on you.

“Stop acknowledging him,” Rin hisses. Your back arches as his cockhead presses first against your entrance, missing first before he re-steadies and slips inside you, biting your lower lip as they pull back in a wince. Your fingers claw into his bare back as he claims you, a shudder leaving his throat as he nestles inside you, warm, inviting, his, oh so necessarily his.

“Stop worrying about him,” you hiss back. “Focus on me.”

Your eyes narrow as they meet, but he’s softening as you look at him. The first few strokes into your center are fast, harsh, quick in the snap of his hips, but the next ones, with his eyes slowly filling with adoration as he watches your reactions, the scrunch of your face and the lust in your eyes as they roll back, are slow and tender. 

“Focus on me,” he whispers now as he rolls his hips against yours. “Be mine.”

Be mine, be mine, be mine. He kisses your neck, marking you with each press of the lips, each squeeze of his fingertips on your flesh, and he wishes you would scratch and claw your name into his skin if only it means he’s definitely yours and only yours and you’re only his, forever.

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife #10 : Snack Time

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Momma bird hungry for all the snacks in the world. Takes some time and frustration before Joel figures out the exact kind of snack you really want.

Warnings: Pregnant reader, Angry!Joel, oral M!receiving, face fucking, throat bulge, throat-pie, dumbification, junk food binge, eating meat, bossy reader as always

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel didn’t know he married the Hungry Hungry Hippo, Galactus the planet devourer, Garfield the tabby cat.

You’re on your phone texting while cuddling Joel. He’s more interested in the movie than you are, but that doesn’t stop him from tracing his finger along your arm, occasionally kissing the top of your head and nuzzling his nose. He loves the scent of your shampoo after a wash, damp and cold against his warm chest. Sometimes you protest how closely he wants to cuddle you, all smushed up on the couch. Your body temp skyrocketed with the baby changing everything. But since he’s keep the AC on full blast, your warm heavy body keeps him from being a popsicle.

The landlines chimes in from the kitchen.

He rolls his eyes. Of course, something to interrupt the comfort that took 40 minutes for you to settle into. "I'll get it,” He grumbles quickly and hoists himself up off the couch. He wants to make whoever the fuck is calling at such a late hour a quick convo. If it’s fucking Tommy needing bailed out again, he thinks begrudgingly, I’ll just hang up on him. 

He clears his throat and answers: “Hello, Miller Residents.”

"Can you get me a bowl of Cap'n crunch while you're up?"

He glances back over at you sitting up on the couch, your cell to your ear as you wave at him. you point to your belly mouthing I T S  F O R  T H E  B A B Y.

It’s for the baby, my ass. You’ve been a hungry hungry hippo who’s been snacking like crazy and ignoring the doctor’s warnings. 

But cranky Momma is way worse than a scolding doctor. 

He grits his teeth and slams the receiver a little too hard down on the desk.

You can hear him shuffling around in the kitchen, a clash of a bowl on the counter  and the jingle of overly processed cereal filling it up. 

He walks back into the living room. You’ve taken up the whole couch now, with no inclination to move over to let him back on.

You shove a fist into the bowl and pop a bunch of the crunchy orange squares into your mouth “f’anks” you mumble, eyes not once making contact with him as you stare ahead and much away. Crumbs fall onto your chest and down to the floor and sofa, as if Joel hadn’t just cleaned all of it this morning.

.

The next night, Joel's cooking some steaks. You weren’t really a meat-crazed person, having maybe one or two helpings of poultry or occasionally red beef a week, but normally ,you could go without it for a few meals without thinking about it. 

Pregnant momma? She was a fucking carnivore. He had barely set the sizzling steak down before you snatch one onto your plate. He turns around to slice into one, checking its temp before serving, only to see it was a bit too red and bloodied on the inside.

"Oh babe I gotta cook these a little longer; they're too rare--"

You were hacking away and tearing a large chunks of the red, near pulsing meat, juices pouring out your lips, a vampire gorged on a fat blood sucking meal. Despite its tenderness, you chew endlessly and stare off into the table like a Llama enjoying its food on the field. 

"Maybe...we should—slow down a bit,” he suggests with uncertainty. His fork and knife frozen in midair, still in each hand. He hasn’t shifted view or blinked, but clear worry (and maybe a tad bit of fear) stretch across his face.

"Uighgrrfmggmmdeeofxsw,” you reply with gargled cow remains sloshing in your wide open trap. 

 “Right. That."

You swallow what’s left. Joel’s does a double take: your steak is somehow gone, juice licked clean off the plate in front of you.

“Can I have yours???"

He had only sliced 4 cuts  for himself so far. But the hungry look in your pupils, licking your lips while watching his dinner, it’s clear you’ve answered for him. He sadly sets his cutlery down and slides his plate to you. 

Its even more interesting when you douse it in salt and throw a slab of butter on top of it, watching it melt before slicing a big chunk off.

"You gotta watch the salt intake—“

“—Can you make chicken? I want chicken now.”

“N-no,” he shakes his head, whiplash from the conversation. Maybe you’ve gone def AND blind AND lost your taste buds. “I made steak. You've had 2 steaks now. Why do you need chicken?”

“That second one was for the baby. The chicken is for me.”

“What about the fist one?”

“….We split that.”

“Awfully hungry baby,” he says with a dead tone, straight faced as he eats the one roll left in the basket that hasn’t been devoured by you. 

“Well she’s yours, isn’t she?” 

-

You wipe your face with a napkin, a fried chicken leg and wing now securely packed tight in your tum tum along with the famished baby.

"What's for dessert?" You chime eagerly.

Joel turns to wash the dishes, hiding his smirk. He’s got you now, no surprise cravings will catch him short on this one: He boasts proudly, “I bought you apple pie--"

"I want cupcakes. Whip cream icing. Chocolate.”

His grin quickly deflates into a frown. “No.” He says sternly, a little aggravated. “I bought you pie—“

"Did I say I want pie? L I S T E N,” you snap, slapping your palms together with each syllable. 

He puts his foot down with tense sudsy hands going to his hips. “No. I'm not going out again.”

You raise your eyebrows threateningly. One look.

30 minutes later Joel is shuffling into the house with a pack of 12 cupcakes he bought at the bakery.

-

You’ve managed to prop yourself up on the couch after some heaving. “Ha! The baby is making me workout get strong! Obviously that’s why I’m so hungry.” You shrug it off. “Oh! I want raw cookie dough.”

Joel was on his phone the entire time, but the second you said I want, his brain queued in and he quickly retorts, “No.”

He goes back to replaying the voicemail he missed, settled and focused on the opposite couch.

Of course he Doesn't realize you’ve somehow lumbered up past him and now waddling back with 4 chunks of raw cookies in your hand, popping them in your mouth one at a time.

His eyes dark up to watch you, transfixed on the screen as you bend your knees, hardly paying attention to the way you’re about to fall on the couch. He has half the mind to help, but what’s one lesson you need to learn the hard way?

Regretfully, you bounce down successfully and pull your legs up.

And then, as you dust your hands off from the chocolate stains melted on your palms, Joel’s lips part in a o as you reach behind you and pulling an entire gallon container of animal crackers. 

"Babe"

"Wha?” You don’t turn around to look at him, still shoveling them into your mouth. “Yuu wan wan?"

"You need to stop eating every damn thing in the house.”

You gasp incredulously, your hand over your heart in painful offense. “The baby is very hungry! She's related to you and that belly.”

He only remembers to stop himself from reminding you that your belly is much bigger than his now. 

"The baby—“ (that was the new thing now: the baby  this baby that. The baby is why I need this shirt in blue and green. The baby is why I need the ice cream layered horizontally not stacked vertically. The baby —)

"No. Not the baby,” he snaps. “You."

You start to cry. "I thought I AM your baby!!!" 

He gives you a “seriously” look and you stop the fake tears.

“So how about it?”

“I don’t want you getting salmonella.”

“ugh fine. You can bake them I guess.”

He’s about to protest the idea of any dough going into your body, cooked or raw, but knows its going to be a lost cause.

Joel makes you a platter of Assorted cookies: chocolate chip, fudge, triple chocolate, sugar, and oatmeal raisin.

You clap your hands as he carefully places the little plate atop your bump. Humored by the custom “mini” table you’ve got going on now. Maybe his baby doesn’t like her head being used as a countertop, but with the way you close your eyes and moan after biting into the chocolate chip, babygirl must be pleased too.

He goes to the bathroom quickly and then comes back only to glare down at you. You've taken exactly one bite out of every single cookie, leaving crescent shapes for him to scathe.

Every cookie, except oatmeal raisin. You clearly did take a bite ,but spit it out and put the lump back near the undesirable #1 cookie.

“These mine?” Joel asks bemused.

You nod happily. You felt very proud to have enough control and leave him some this time! 

-

It’s about 9:30 pm. You're acting drunk and woozy even tho you're just a new level of tired and achy

"Woopppoooooo!!! Paaartttaaayyy!" You shout with fists in the air, drinking down a shot glass of sugar water. 

“Alright party Momma. It’s bedtime.” 

"Ppfffttt! No old man! Dont steal my fun.”

Joel stands over the couch, blocking your view from the TV, his hands on his hips. “You're being difficult "

“YoU’rE bEiNg DifFicUlT,” you mock and wave him off. "Oop I need to pee. Help me up.”

Joel” grabs both your grabby hands and hoists you up to your feet. “Now up the stairs, you.”

You waddle towards the stairwell, one hand cupping your lower back. Joel is right at your heel. you up at the treaturous journey ahead, all 8 steps to the top floor. Cracking your neck side to side, you wave your arms over to the handrail and begin: “Left foot. Right foot. Left. Fuck. Fuck stairs. Who invented stairs. Left foot…”

Joel’s so sleepy that he nearly falls forward. And he knows you would not take too kindly to him ramming his face into your ass as you battle your worst enemy.

Finally to the top, you scurry over like a penguin to the bathroom. He fears the long night ahead, with all the sugar swirling in your system undoubtedly going to keep him up.

He rubs his wears eyes. Startled when a moment later you’re right next to him by your side of the bed, patiently waiting for him to help you up.

"Get in the covers,” he hums with exhaustion.

But you don’t move. “No"

"Now.”

"I want an orange.”

"No. You—you just had your snack."

"That was the baby's snack. I want MY snack”.

Dear Christ almighty, bless me with a boy next time so that I have a fighting chance against her and mini her. “If I get you an orange, will you go to bed?" He asks irritably, his voice enunciating each word to ensure the contract that he’s making with you right now is solidified on both ends of the bargain.

You think it over before nodding with a little innocent beam. 

You crawl into the covers just as Joel descends the stairs once again. It takes the entire time for him to grab some oranges, a peeler, and paper towel just for you to rotate your middle and sit your ass in bed.

You sit up against the headboard and clap your hands, so excited when he reappears with the goods. He puts the towel on your mini-table bump and plops one orange atop.

Joel sighs and begins to walk towards his side of the bed, but is haunted when you clear your throat for his attention.

“Yes?”

"Peel it.”

He tries not to visibly roll his eyes before he's opening the round orange with his large fingers and clubbed nails. Everything smells like nectarine now.

Picky as can be, you peel off the extra dried white veiny bits and suck on each pod of the orange.

You expect a sweet simpleness to squirt on your tongue, but instead, a sour, bitter, unripe taste floods your mouth. “Ugh these are gross, now I want—“

Joel closes his wardrobe drawer, his shirt off and only halfway down to his boxers. “NO. NO means fucking NO. I’M TIRED. YOU’RE TIRED. WE'RE GOING TO BED. NOW,” he barks sternly into the mirror. His shoulders huffing from such aggression without being able to look at you.

You throw the covers off, orange skin and slices flying everywhere.

“Fuck you! I want ice cream! I want bananas and steak and potatoes and tacos and—!" 

-

He bares his teeth in a snarl, deep angered eyes casting downward with each poignant rut. “You're so annoying, so goddamn spoiled,” he grunts. His huge hands are wrapped around the top of your head and  cupping your jaw and bulging cheek, keeping you in place as he pushes his length into your mouth over and over again. “You’re gonna do shit when I tell you, the first time I say—shit—fuck there we go—gonna listen—unnggghhfff—listen ta me from now on. Just be my good little silent. Slutty. Pregnant. Wife.”

Your teary eyes are fixed upward at his imposing figure. Feeling each time his tip nudges the back of your throat has you gagging but you can’t pull away to breathe—not that you want to.

“You get—what I give ya—and you be grateful bout it.”

You gargle a moan in agreement. His balls slap against your chin with brutal punches. by this time tomorrow, there will be Joel-finger prints bruising your face and neck.

You love it. You love it when Joel forces you out of the hormonal phase of bossing him around, the endless need to want more and more, no end in sight to your greedy gluttonous desires, until he’s blowing up and blowing off steam using you instead. And it becomes very clear to you how much you just really wanted him this whole time. 

“That’s it—that’s it—you were hungry for my cock weren’t ya? Yeahhhh. Just begging me all night for it. Wanted all that meat for dinner, huh? Couldn’t just come out n’ say it? Your little brain didn’t know what ya truly needed. S’okay, Momma. I’m takin’ care of ya, aren’t I?”

The gluglugglug sounds mixed with strained pitchy whines echo in the master bedroom.

You grip his thighs with your hands to steady yourself, allowing him to abuse your throat. Maybe your knees hurt. Maybe the baby is settling uncomfortably against your lower back, and maybe it’s going to be really difficult to get up from this position in a few minutes. But each thick throb of his length filling your mouth over and over again, the spit slick strings dropping from your lips to your swollen tits, and the dent in your throat from his cock stretching to accomodate his size has your swollen pussy dripping into the carpet for more, more, more. 

It’s been at least a week since Joel drained himself. No wonder he’s been so on edge with each demand. Usually marveling how cute you are, but tonight he was at him limit. You were about to get a hefty, Joel Miller sized load filling your belly, and it’s going to be better than any cookie, steak, or orange in the entire world.

He feels the way your lips suction tighter. Your eyes are leaking tears, and he smirks as he brushes his thumb over to collect it. Briefly bringing it to his tongue and sucking on the salty taste before holding your head in place. 

“Shhh-shhhhhhhh. You gonna take it? Shit—shit—fuck yeah you are. Gonna fuckin take what I give ya, that’s right. My sweet wife. Bossing me around. Shit. Love when ya get like this. Known I’m gonna wreck that ass or that pussy or that mouth—all belongs to me. Fuck—fuck—fuuckk—“

His mouth drops into an o, brows drawn tightly together as slams his pulsing member balls deep into your mouth one final time. You choke, eyes wide as the tip of his cock breaches the deepest part of your throat, your nose suffocated by his pubic hairs and the fat of his lower belly surrounding your cheeks. His balls twitch against your lower lip, and you feel it coming. The travel of his seed from his sack, up his shaft along your tongue—a generous spurt of cum finally shooting from his tip and down your throat. You gag with each fat load that he pumps down your esophagus, too much to swallow at once yet having no other choice but to gulp it down quickly. Your face feels hot. He’s cumming endlessly, your mind blanking and eyes feeling blurry.

“Take it, take it, take it, that’s it,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

You nod just a little, hugging your arms around his thick thighs tighter. He grins, humming “That’s my good fucking wife, and throws his head as the last of his pleasure makes its way safely from his sated balls to your full womb.

Joel pulls you off his length gently. You sputter out cum and saliva onto his feet, sucking in air through your lungs like a newborn. 

Joel gets to one knee, his thumb pressed gently under your chin so you look directly at him. He’s got such softness in his eyes again, the ones that just switch on a dime the second he’s satisfied his aggress out on you. 

You’re completely wrecked: snot spit connecting to your nostrils and swollen lips, cheeks warm and eyes puffy and hazy with exhaustion and tears.

“That��mmffffgg!—was—definitely—my—snack,” you rasp with a hoarse voice. A lazy grin spread across your face only briefly as you continue to suck air.

Joel shakes his head before planting a long kiss atop your forehead. his hands glide along your body, and just in time as your knees give way and you’re falling into him. 

If you had half the mind right now, you’d curse him out for scooping you up and carrying you to bed like his once youthful bride, too concerned with the size and weight of your new body putting unnecessary stress on his aging knees and back. But Joel doesn’t protest once. Just watches you with loving eyes as he settles you into the soft bed. His tongue dips to your chest and breasts, kissing and sucking away any remnants of his rough face fucking. His cum, your spit, and fuvk it, even the little snot specks—all of it he cleans up before coming up to your lips. He kisses you softly with gentle pecks, enough to ensure you can still catch your breath. He sucks your lower lip into your mouth before wiping his own with his thumb. You’re calmer now, sated and drifting so close to sleep.

Joel clambers into bed next to you, wrapping his arm under your head and swaddling you close. You instinctively roll into his embrace. Kissing his peck and rubbing your face against him dreamily with soft breaths. “Tha hit ther spert juss rite. Ur da bess, Jol.”

“I know. So are you.” He waits for a reply, but nothing comes from you. “Are you goin’ into a food coma, baby?”

Your gentle snores answer him, along with the drool now pooling on his peck.

He chuckles and pulls your head into his face, inhaling your scent. Strong, secure, graceful hands caress your big belly. Your very very full belly, the one that he’s not going to envy when it gives you a the tummy ache tomorrow from stuffing it with so much junk food tonight. 

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop

[fernandopiastri28]

tags: f2 alpine oscar x mark webber's daughter, all pics from pinterest

warnings: blood, partial self inflicted pain, bad father-daughter relationship, angst angst angst in this chapter + fluff at the end

Anyone but webber - Oscar Piastri

Rule 8: Don’t bleed for someone who never bandaged your wounds.

The next morning begins painfully with an eardrum-crushing ringtone blaring far too close to her head. Her whole body aches, her head fuzzy and vision splodgy as she opens her eyes to light bleeding through the curtains. Her phone buzzes itself off her bedside table, now vibrating against the floor—just out of reach when her arm hangs down the side off the bed. 

It forces her to try and wake up somewhat, properly get out of bed and answer whoever is ringing her at this obscene hour of the morning. She squints at the caller ID, reaching around aimlessly for her glasses simply because her contacts are too far away right now. 

Luckily for her though, Siri decides to read out and announce the message. 

Incoming call from Mark (Dad)

Oh. 

She rubs her face—maybe slightly too rough and nearly certain to leave weird dry-red marks, and swipes to answer the call. She puts her phone to her ear, finally finding her glasses to shove onto her face. “Hello?” Her voice is gravelly from sleep, barely a croak.

“Did I wake you?” Straight from the get go there is no sort of greeting, no apologiosing for waking her up at barely six in the morning, absolutely fuck all.

“Yeah.” She forces herself upright and coughs into her fist, clearly her throat. Someone, or maybe more, is talking right next to Mark about as loud as they possibly can. Every second word they say gets caught by Mark’s microphone, slipping in and out of their conversation. “Do you need something?”

She knows the answer to that already, Mark wouldn’t be calling if he didn’t.

Cutting across his staticky voice is the sound of papers being rustled, “Uh, yeah. I need you to go up to my office and grab the orange folder ontop of my printer, scan each page, and email them to me.” He pauses for a moment, a few actually. Part of her is hopeful for him to add a ‘Please’, or a ‘If you can’ onto the end, but that’s like expecting him to start speaking Russian.

It’s not gonna happen.

“Or do you need me to ask Oscar to come over and do it instead?”

Objectively, that’s much better than her getting a half assed attempt of him showing her any sense of manners. If he organises Oscar to come over to help with the folder situation, then if somehow he finds out that Oscar was here while he was away, they’ll have an excuse for it.

“Yeah, I think that would be a good idea.” She chews at the corner of her nails, standing up to start getting ready for her day, and date most importantly, even though she’s got hours until Oscar arrives. “I can text him, I think I have his number.”

Think, does—what’s the difference anyways?

“Great.” Luckily he doesn’t question why she would have his number, given that they have near to no sense of a relationship whatsoever beyond speaking a few words to eachother when she’s caught off guard that he just happens to be at her house. 

Well, Mark’s never been particularly observant or inquisitive when it comes to anything involving her. “Can you text him sometime soon? It’s quite urgent.” 

She places her phone on the edge of her bathroom sink, leaning over said sink to struggle with putting in her contacts, “Uh huh, yeah, will do.” Her voice is strained, her concentration far more on her morning routine then helping her dad with sending photos. “If that’s all, I’ve got to go get ready for today. Talk soon,” 

Just as she’s about to hang up, her dad manages to get in three words sideways, “Alright, love you.” 

She’s already pressed end call before those last two words properly set in. 

Love you.

She can’t remember the last time she heard that from him. It doesn’t sound right coming out of his mouth, said in his voice. Maybe it more so feels like it should be directed towards someone else—Oscar, obviously comes to mind first. Her two fingers feel heavy on her cracked phone screen, now lingering over the lower half of her lockscreen instead of the red cross during a call. 

The grim taste of bile flods her mouth, a tight clench in her stomach accompanying it. She can’t even hear two simple, ordinary words, that most kids hear from their parents multiple times a day without wanting to emptying her stomach of anything possibly left in it. 

Part of her struggles to even attempt to just accept those words and move on. Take them how they are and keep going on with her day. She can’t, no amount of convincing herself that her relationship with Mark just is how it is helps feel better. Love you—how dare he. How dare he unravel all of the work she’s put in over these past weeks, months even.

Years, if she’s honest.

She blinks her contacts in, the stupid saline solution momentarily blinding her before allowing her to see everything too clearly. She immediately considers taking them out again and tossing them in the bin, forcing herself into a word where everything is just slightly blurry—-where colours bleed into eachother, forms mould into unrecognisable shapes, and absolutely nothing makes sense.

Her father makes no sense anyways, maybe it would feel more normal if everything was that confusing. 

She swallows down the bile rising in her throat, pressing the back of her hand to her lips as if that’ll stop the queasiness from spilling out. She grabs her toothbrush, slightly too aggressively that it sends the ceramic cup it rests in flying to the floor, smashing as it collides with the porcelain. 

“Fuck,” Tears of frustration pour down her cheeks as she kneels down, scooping up the pieces. She holds the sharp and jagged edged pieces tightly in her hands. She hates this feeling of a lack of control over her feelings, when she can’t hold it all in and just be brave. 

 It’s stupid—she knows it’s stupid—but there’s no escaping the feeling that Mark’s words weren’t really meant for her. He’s never been the type to throw around affection, atleast not when it’s directed toward her. She can’t remember a compliment he’s given her, a time he’s told her he’s proud of her, when he’s shown a genuine interest in her or anything she’s doing. She sees Oscar get all of that and more though, he gets every bit of affection from her dad that she’s spend her whole life chasing.

At first, she thought he was just closed off. Her mum left the house one day and never returned. As far as she knew, her mother never looked back, not for her or for her dad. At that point in time, she was too young to fully comprehend what had really happened. She was three at the time, and had always been a ‘daddy’s girl’ more than she’d ever been so connected to her mother.

So when her mum left, she was too young to even feel too sad about it. Mark on the other hand lost his girlfriend, the mother of his child. He was only 24 when she was born, and he was at the very beginning of his F1 career. When her mum left, he became her sole care taker, and there was no way he’d be able to take care of a toddler full time at tha point when he had to be travelling most weekends to go racing.

As a result, she spent the majority of her childhood living with friends and family of her dad, knowing her father solely from interviews on the tv screen and the few times he could manage to come back and visit. Her earliest memories of him are distant, fragmented—moments snatched in between races or fleeting phone calls filled with too much static and not enough warmth. 

It was everything to her nonetheless. She never had an overwhelming interest in cartoons or any type of kids shows, more often opting for rewatching the same 3 minute interview over and over, wrapped up in a princess blanket on the couch trying to reach out for him. 

Even when he came home, he was different then he was in the home videos she’d watch from years before she could properly understand what was ever going on. She just knew that unlike in those grainy homevideos of their family of three—there were no bedtime stories, no trips to the park, no beach trips. Just a man who showed up, exhausted, distracted, and buried in paperwork or phone calls. 

That’s not to say he was always switched off. When he would return home after a flight into Australia, if it was night, he would come into her room and tuck her in, leave her with a kiss on the forehead, regardless if she was asleep or not. Sometimes, she would intentionally stay up all night when she knew he’d be back in a few hours, just to be awake and see him for those brief few seconds he’d come into her room for.

Each time he’d be home for was fleeting and not even on the cusp of enough time. Before she could even begin to feel like her dad was home again, he’d leave again and she’d find herself back at someone else’s house, some other relative’s care. 

It was the only life she’d ever known, to be fair, and she knew of nothing other than it. She loved her dad, she loved watching him go racing. She loved talking about her dad in show and tell when she’d bring in an old helmet of his or a trophy. He was her greatest pride and joy, all she could ever dream to be.

Once she was old enough to understand why her dad was so distant unlike all the other dads of her friends at school, she formed a belief—a belief that as soon as he retired from F1, he’d be her dad again. A father first, a racecar driver second. 

At twelve years old, she finally got her wish. He announced his retirement from formula one to the world in 2013, and she found out at the same time as the rest of the world did. He came straight home to Australia the night of the Brazilian Grand Prix—the final race of his career—-and despite it being past one am when she heard the front door open and shut, she was still awake.

Her door opened and so did her eyes—-only very slightly though, maintaining a squint so it looked like she was aalseep. She didn’t want to get in trouble for staying up hours past her bedtime. She waited for the kiss, for him to tuck the corners of her sheets so tight into her bedframe that she’d have to use all the force of her arms to squirm out of, for him to whisper goodnight to her—-but it never came.

He just stood in her doorframe, his figure outlined by the dim hallway light behind him. He waited for about a minute at most, not making a noise except for the slight hum of his breathing, then he shut the door, leaving her room back in complete darkness. 

That signalled the end of her dad, and the beginning of Mark. 

And even eight years on, she still feels cold when she thinks about that night. She thinks about trying to tuck herself in as tightly as he always did, but not managing to make it stay, and she remembers pressing the mouth of her favoueite teddy bear to her forehead—a brown bear wearing a blue racesuit, fittingly called Dad—to mimic her return night kiss.

She also remembers crying until the sun came back up, and going downstairs in the following morning to see the door of her dad’s office shut and locked, basically flaunting a ‘do not disturb under any circumstances’ sign. She knew better to go against that, knew that even though she was a kid who just wanted to see her dad—-she knew to be a rule listener, rules were more important then want. 

Those barriers never broke down, only putting more distance between them. She’d waited for the end of 2013 like it was going to be the year her world would forever change. She imagined retirement would bring them closer together, mend any strange drift that him racing around the world would’ve caused. She pictured breakfast together—plates of freshly made pancakes, stacked tall, sopping with maple syrup, and oozing melted chocolate—going on bike rides as the sun warms up the horizon, singing along to radio in the car ride to school, trips to the beach when the weather was warm enough and the waves were strong enough to surf.

Instead, she made pancakes out of a bottled mix—almost always burnt or undercooked. She taught herself to ride a bike, far later than other kids, embarrassingly. She’d clean up her cuts when she’d fall off her training-wheel-less bike, wincing at the burn of antiseptic out of the medicine cabinet. She’d hum along to whatever songs she had saved on her iPhone 4 on the walk to school, and once she was confident enough in her ability, while she bike ride to school. 

There weren’t any beach near enough for her to get to by herself at the age of twelve without an adult bringing her, so she decided she would buy a beach house once she was old enough and spend near to every day either swimming, surfing, or making sand castles.

The first time she can remember him sitting down to talk to her, or at least saying something of actual substance beyond something meaningless and tossed out without a second thought, was him sitting down across from her at the dinner table, and immediately saying he would be racing in WEC the following year. 

She didn’t know what WEC was, she didn’t really care to know anyways. She knew it meant he was going to be gone again, just when she thought she had him back for good this time around. 

“Okay.” She’d looked down at her plate, piled with sausages and roast vegetables, both getting cold from how long she’d been waiting for him to join her for dinner. 

Neither of them said anything more that night, and she didn’t wait for him to give her a hug goodnight—he didn’t deserve it, just like he’d decided she didn’t deserve to be tucked in anymore.

Even then, it wasn’t until years later when she’d found out that he’d actually signed the contract with Porsche in Endurance racing all the way back in june that she truly ever let herself feel the pain of the betrayal that night. He was never retiring, never actually coming back for her—he would always love racing more than he’d ever love his own daughter.

She still feels like that little kid, crying in her bed back in 2013 over not getting a kiss. This time, it’s over getting a ‘love you’. Two opposite sides of a coin—a kid not getting the same display of affection they do, and a nineteen year old getting once when she hasn’t in years. Even though she’d felt so betrayed and alienated even back then, she’d never stopped trying to gain his approval. She was always convinced that maybe if she just tried hard enough, if she could do everything right, if she was perfect, then he’d notice her. He’d finally see her, finally be proud. 

She thought that after so many years, she would’ve outgrown it—left behind that little girl who just waited for the day her favourite person in the world felt the same about her.

“Fuck!” It’s the only word that’s managed to leave her mouth since she ended the call. It’s the only word that can begin to come close to how she’s feeling, but even then, it hardly does. She wants to scream, to throw the rest of the broken pieces across the room and watch them shatter even further. Instead, her hands clench tighter, her skin punctured by the rough corners of ceramic. 

Blood trickles down her palms, mixing with the tears that have long dripped down onto the smashed glass. Oscar would think she’s pathetic of he saw her right now, at least she wishes he would. In reality, she knows that Oscar would clean up the mess of the broken cup and then gently sit her down on the edge of her bed instead of having her crouched over in her bathroom. He’d clean up the bloody tears and the cuts—bandaging her hands up so gently. He’d hold her close, wipe away her tears while he says all the right things to make her feel even just the slightest bit better.

She wishes Oscar could just stop being so perfect for a second, wishes he could have a single flaw that she could pick on and belittle him for, make her dad see that Oscar isn’t as amazing as he seems to be.

But he is, and so she can’t even blame her dad for picking Oscar over her—she would too.  

The thought of Oscar is what gets her off the floor in the end. She deposits of the shattered cup and washes her hand clean, still wincing like she did on all those failed attempts of riding a bike. She brushes her teeth, she dries her hands off so the bandages will stay on, and she gets dressed for the day. Her hands shake slightly while she does her makeup, and her bottom lip quivers as she spreads a layer of lipgloss across it. 

But she holds it together. Two words aren’t worth crying over. She’s not that little girl anymore. She’s her own person, she’s more then just Mark’s daughter. She has her own life, her own world that’s separate from her father—sort of. She has Oscar who she loves, regardless of his involvement in racing. She has dreams to travel the world, to get that beach house, to swim every day. She has plans to go to university next year and to finally get out of the house that’s caused her so much heartbreak. 

She can’t grow in the same environment that once destroyed her.

The time on her phone hits 8:50, and she looks her reflection in the eyes. She’s not a little girl. She’s not that little girl. She’s never going to be that little girl again. Until she forces a smile, and it’s the same one she’s had her whole life. 

When the doorbell rings, she takes one last look at herself in the mirror, dragging her fingers through her hair one last time, making sure it lays over her shoulders nicely. Even though the girl staring back at her is completely shattered inside, her exterior is near perfection—her foundation covers the redness of her face, any lingering tears look just like the areas where she applied highlighter, her bitten and swollen lips just look plump with the addition of lipgloss. The bandages on her hands are neat and completely hide the cuts.

If she just keeps herself together a little longer, maybe no one will notice any cracks beneath her surface.

With a deep breath, she heads downstairs and to the front door. After a few moments of gathering up the strength to face someone in her current state—even when its her boyfriend who she loves more than anything—she opens the door. Oscar stands there, a white t-shirt and pair of pale blue jeans. His hair is awfully messy, clearly having had nothing done to it whatsoever. His eyes light up when he sees her, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Hi, Osc”

“Hey, baby,” Her face cracks into a smile at the nickname, some of the awful tension finally loosening up. Luckily for her, he doesn’t seem to notice the way her hands are trembling or how glossy and red her eyes are—he’s as normal and warm as he always is.

“Breakfast?” He gestures outside, stepping aside for her. She gives him a small nod, stuffing her phone into the pocket of her darker wash jeans. “Hey, we matched,” He grins at her, getting a giggle out of her. He looks accomplished by that, just getting a small laugh out of his girlfriend. 

She hopes Oscar never feels at all like she feels right now, how she’s felt her whole life. Oscar deserves a life of pure and complete happiness, she believes that genuinely. “We did indeed,” She slips her fingers into intertwine with his. He shuts the door behind her, guiding her towards a cafe he’d found online that’s only a ten minute walk away. 

On the walk to the café, Oscar shoots off on a story from back in Monza about one of the team’s mechanics spilling a coffee on his race suit—an iced coffee luckily. Oscar right by her side paired with the bright sun, a pleasantly warm current temperature and the promise of croissants and doughnuts, she finds it hard to even be upset anymore.

They get a table for two outside, enough in the shade that there’s no painful glare as they try to look at eachother. The service is quick, their table quickly covered with a hot chocolate, a caramel latte, and far too many pastries and baked goods for only two people. Regardless, they dig in straight away, trading drinks and food every so often.

Time flies past them, their drinks grow cold and more food arrives to their table. She tears off a bit of a cinnamon roll and pops it into her mouth just as Oscar starts to talk. “I was thinking,” Oscar says. “Maybe we could drive down to the beach this weekend. Weather forecast is good, waves shouldn’t be too bad.”

The beach—the final, unfulfilled dream from the checklist. Back at twelve, she could manage to everything on her own that she wanted to do with her dad instead. She learned how to make pancakes, even if they were far from perfect. She rode bikes, though it took longer than it should have and resulted in a few too many grazed palms and scabbed knees. She sang along to the radio, filled the silence on her solitary walks instead of in the car. 

But the beach was always out of reach. She had no way to get there on her own, so she would just rely on the impossible hope that her dad would finally look up from his busy life and take her there, just like she’d always imagined they would every weekend. 

It’s not that she’s never been to a beach, of course. There were trips with friends or school excursions, moments that almost scratched the itch, but never quite hit the mark. The dream she had as a kid wasn’t just about the location—it was about being seen, being cared for, about sharing that simple and tender joy with someone who mattered. There was a kind of magic in the way she pictured it back then, in her childish daydreams: her and her dad running toward the water, splashing through the surf, him laughing in a way he never did at home.

The ‘someone’ who matters didn’t matter whether that was with her dad or just on her own. All she knew was that it couldn’t be someone else, either the two of them, or just her.

But with Oscar, everything is different. She doesn’t know how to put it into words, how to describe that Oscar isn’t like any other guy, how he’s just about the most importnant thing in the world to her.

Even the fact that without even knowing the weight behind it, he just offered that to her. Casually. Without hesitation. Without her needing to ask, or worse, beg. He doesn’t make it a whole big thing, doesn’t put her in the position of feeling guilty for wanting something simple, something that for once isn’t a compromise. 

“Yeah,” she smiles wide, nodding excitedly. Her voice is still soft though, probably incredibly adoring. “The beach sounds great.” Oscar smiles, content that he came up with an idea that she’s so taken with. To him, it’s no big deal, it’s just the beach. But to her, it is. It’s huge, it’s the final piece of her jigsaw. 

She can already imagine it so vividly—the two of them driving down the coast, windows down with the salty breeze whipping through her hair. She can feel the sun hot on her skin, hear the soft rush of the waves as they crash against the shore, can smell the heavy salt of the sea. 

It’s going to be the best weekend of her life, even better than she imagined it would be back when she was twelve.

y/n.webber

liked by lilymhe, zhouguanyu and 2,879 others

y/n.webber best kinda pick me up

user32 where's the top from?

-> y/n.webber na-kd!!

-> user32 thank u omg!

user17 those pastries omggg

-> y/n.webber they were literally to die for, so good 😙🤌

user21 i need a hair tut frrr

y/n.priv (private account)

liked by l.sarge, osc.priv, and 1 other

y/n.priv seen better days

l.sarge oscar cambailsm

-> osc.priv what word is that

-> l.sarge eating your own kind

-> geo.6arge3 pastry on pastry crime

-> l.sarge ????? who r u

-> l.sarge omg its george sorry im a big fan lol

bsf/n love u baby <3 take care of yourself :(

-> y/n.priv miss u sm </3

osc.priv ❤️🥰

last chapter, next chapter

oooofff, rough chapter. honestly, motivation has been nonexistent recently but honestly, writing this chapter felt so easy and enjoyable, it that makes any sense 🥲

anyways, fun beach times in the next chapter + more oscar centric, i promiseeee:)

taglist: @prettiest-at-the-party, @forza-charles, @sltwins, @sweetwh0re, @lucktales, @ellen3101, @nxlx96, @notantou, @cloud-55, @wisestarfishbouquet, @zupercoolgirl

[allfryam]

sugarcoated (remastered)

for those of you that don’t know, sugarcoated was the first story I posted on tumblr and… it’s rough. So I decided I would rewrite the story so it’s at least a little bit better because I really like the idea. Enjoy!

The crowd roared in excitement as Andrew made the winning shot right as the buzzer went off. He pumped his fist in the air as his team surrounded him cheering. Andrew had just won the championship basketball game for his school. It was the last game of his senior year and he was gonna be off to college soon.

in the locker room, Andrew took off his clothes and got in the shower. Little did he know, his friend miles was watching from afar, admiring Andrew’s perfect body. His wet, curly brown hair fell perfectly onto his tan face. His sharp jawline could cut through steel, and miles had to practically stop himself from drooling as he admired Andrew’s body. His toned abs and muscular arms looked even better with glistening hot water running down them. His tight ass sat atop his meaty legs proudly. Miles had to stop himself from staring before he got a boner. He couldn’t wait until college though. Miles and Andrew decided to be roommates when they went to college. Miles dreamed of seeing Andrew’s perfect body every day.

when it came time to make his schedule for the fall, Andrew discovered he had an open slot. Looking through the available classes, he only saw one that didn’t look like a snooze fest. “Baking 101”. Andrew reluctantly clicked on it and forgot about it until the first class.

Andrew was relieved to see miles when he walked into the baking class for the first time. He was nervous about not knowing anyone in his classes but miles made it a little bit better. Professor miller began the class by saying it will be very difficult and take up a lot of your time. Andrew rolled his eyes but decided to stay because of miles. The boys grabbed dinner after class and Andrew decided to skip the gym to get started on his homework. He had gone to the gym almost everyday in high school, but with all of the stress in college, he hardly ever had time.

the first week had come and gone and Andrew was starting to get into a routine. He only ever had time to go to the gym on the weekends and he usually skipped cardio. He figured he got enough of that walking to class every day. He actually ended up really liking his baking class in particular. The professor was pretty cool and they got to eat everything they made in class. One day the professor asked miles and Andrew to stay after class and have a chat with him. “I’ve made an accident, and I figured I would reward my two best students with it.” Professor miller said. “I read the ingredients wrong and made way too many cookies for my other class to sample. These are the leftovers.” Professor opened a Tupperware full of sugar cookies. “I decided to let you two have them so they wouldn’t go to waste.” Andrew’s eyes lit up as he thanked the professor. Miles was running late for his class so he grabbed a few cookies and took off, but Andrew had nowhere to be, so he plopped his ass down in a chair and dug in. Professors cooking was phenomenal. The cookies were the best Andrew ever had! He stacked them three high and ate them as quickly as he could. There were about 40 cookies in the container when he started, and there were only 5 left now. Andrew moaned as he slowly continued eating the cookies. For the last cookie, he just shoved the whole thing in his mouth and tried not to gag as he chewed. He eventually got it down and leaned back in his chair.

that night, when Andrew was on his way to the shower, Miles noticed his abs were looking a little less defined. Probably just the bloat from all those cookies. Miles wasn’t mad at what he saw though… he actually kinda liked it…

classes continued to ramp up in difficulty and Andrew had less and less time for exercise. He would find himself going to the school kitchen late at night to practice his baking. To his surprise, he actually ended up really enjoying the baking class. He got to hang out with miles, and eat all of the sweet treats he made in class. He ate pies, cookies, cakes, pastries, brownies, bread, and more. He only had the class two days a week, but he found himself going to the kitchen when it was empty to make some more treats for himself. One late night, Andrew had just finished making himself a warm apple pie. He sat down at one of the tables and dug in. The warm, gooey apples slid down his throat and he instantly felt relieved. He continued eating until he heard a small “pop”. He looked down to see the button on his jeans had come undone. He grabbed the two sides and tried to pull them back together, but he was really struggling. He stood up and struggled some more before he finally got them to button. He went to the bathroom to look in the mirror, and to his surprise, his perfect abs were starting to turn into a soft, round belly. Andrew grabbed it and gave it a little shake. It jiggled a little but he could still feel some muscle in there. Andrew shrugged it off as a bloat and finished off the rest of his pie. when he got back to the dorm, he took off his shirt and walked over to miles. “Dude, do you think I’m getting fat?” He asked. Miles eyes grew wide as he looked at Andrew’s gut. “Uhhh… no way man! You look great! Sure you’ve probably put on a few but it makes you look way stronger.” Miles replied, trying to hold back his boner. “Yeah you’re probably right. Thanks dude.”

over the coming weeks, Andrew continued to eat various treats and his waistline continued to grow. He stopped wearing jeans because he could never get them buttoned, so he only wore pants or shorts with an elastic waistband. His belly continued to grow rounder and began to fall over his waistband. His size medium shirts no longer covered his gut so he started wearing large, and those were even starting to get a little tight.

as Andrew laid in bed eating cake one night, miles got an idea. He knew Andrew couldn’t resist food, especially sweets, so he started bringing home all of the treats he baked in class to give to Andrew. Andrew would always be incredibly grateful and scarf the food down like it was nothing. For his second semester of classes, he decided to take all of his classes online. He hated having to walk across campus, and it was easy to just sit in bed in his underwear all day.

now that Andrew practically never left the dorm, his weight began to skyrocket. Miles watched his slight paunch turn into a dad bod, and that turned into a beer belly, and that grew into a tub of lard. Miles continued to bring Andrew food, and Andrew ate everything he brought. He didn’t even seem to mind the extra weight. It’s almost like he didn’t even notice it. He was just happy to be eating.

one day, miles decided to push Andrew’s limits. He brought home a massive amount of treats, all for Andrew. There was cake, doughnuts, pie, cookies, and more. “Woah! Is that all for me?” Andrew asked. “Yup! Decided to bring home a feast for my favorite person!” Andrew immediately dug in, tearing through the entire cake within minutes. With his face still covered in frosting, he started eating the pie. Crumbs and pieces of pie filling were falling onto his round gut bit he hardly noticed. He ate the cookies and the brownies at the same time, stacking them on top of one another and eating them as one. Miles’ boner felt like it was gonna bust through his pants with how hard he was right now. Watching Andrew devour this food was the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He needed to get in on this. “Why don’t I help you with the doughnuts?” Miles asked. Andrew just nodded his head and opened his mouth. Miles grabbed a few doughnuts and climbed on top of Andrew. Sitting on his gut, he shoved the doughnuts into his mouth and Andrew mindlessly chewed. After about 6 doughnuts, he motioned for miles to stop. “URP… I’m… full…”Andrew said breathing heavily. Miles ignored him and continued shoving the doughnuts into his mouth. By the time they were finished, Andrew’s stomach had never been so full. He looked like a beached whale. As Andrew drifted off to sleep he pulled miles close and whispered in his ear, “I love you.” Miles face got red and he saw Andrew smile. “I always have…” Andrew whispered before passing out from all of the food he just ate.

don’t really know if you guys will enjoy this one or not. The weight kinda piles on really fast and I know a lot of you like the slower paced stories, but I think the fast ones are fun! Anyway, next story will probably be fattest team in the country part 3 so stay tuned for that

[dxckgrxsonx]

dickpic!reader trying to tease jay by giving him her panties but it backfires badly when later he sends her a video of him with his hand, that’s holding the panties, wrapped around his cock and he fucks himself w them 🫡

phew!! almost 2k words. think this might be my fave part so far.

**

You flinch awake in complete darkness.

Soft, imploring fingers trail from your ankle up to the sensitive skin across the back of your knee. Panic flares so cold it burns all the way to the very top of your head and you kick out, strong but clumsy, foot catching someone warm and firm in the stomach.

There’s a soft ‘oof’ and the hand disappears. You find yourself up on your knees in the space of a few seconds, fists raised, heart threatening to pound straight out of your chest. Fight or flight hooks into all the nerves along your shaking spine and there’s half a second where you don’t even know where you are.

Until someone says your name.

It feels like taking a deep breath first thing in the morning when the air is so cold and crisp it burns your lungs. Feels like dumping freezing water over your head in the middle of a summer heatwave, body caught halfway between complete shock and endless relief.

“So this was my surprise, huh?” Jason says mildly, and the tension shoving open your ribs exhales. “Not what I was expecting but m’not complaining.”

Wearing his black tactical pants and long sleeved undershirt, Jason unclips his weapons holsters and drops them on the bed. Inelegantly falling backwards against the headboard you cross your legs and reach out, fingers curiously grabbing at one of his guns.

The weapon is cold and heavy in your hands. You find the safety close to the trigger and make a conscious effort to stay away from it. Part of you wonders how Jason can find comfort in the weapon, holding it now, you feel almost dangerous.

But a quieter, more thoughtful part of you thinks that being dangerous might be the point. After all, there’s a certain sense of control that comes from being armed, it kind of feels like protection in a weird, twisted way. People generally think twice before going to hurt the person with the gun.

And you know in the meat of your heart that Jason Todd has been hurt enough.

“I ought to shoot you for waking me up like that.” You threaten, gun pointed firmly away from Jason. “Scared the hell out of me.”

“You’re in my bed.” He deadpans, unbuckling his belt. “What did you expect?”

Placing the gun beside its holster you grab a handful of jelly beans from where you left them on the bedside table and switch on the lamp. “Is it too much to ask to be woken up normally? You know, you could have said my name or even turned on the light.”

Offering a shrug in response he grins and takes off his pants.

Raising an interested eyebrow you tip some jelly beans in your mouth and chew, “You want some?”

Pulling yourself to your knees again you shuffle to the end of the bed as Jason steps out of his tactical pants and meets you partway. Opening his mouth expectantly you roll your eyes and tip the rest of your handful into his greedy mouth.

Chewing thoughtfully he gives you a brief once over, “Are you wearing my shirt?”

“It’s comfy and I didn’t bring any sleepover pyjamas.” You defend. Pressing a warm hand to your whole face Jason smiles mischievously and shoves you backwards. Falling flat out across the sheets you try to kick him in the chest but fail, “It’s your own fault for leaving it in plain sight. I’m totally blameless in this scenario.”

“You’re nothing but a common criminal.” Jason grumbles, moving to grab a new shirt to sleep in. “First my jelly beans, and now my shirt.”

“Hey! Your hiding places suck. Have you suddenly forgotten that I know you? Like really know you. You mean the world to me, so of course I make sure to pay attention to what you’re doing.” Shuffling to one side of the bed you kick back the covers and settle underneath. “Don’t think that I don’t know about the stash hidden in my apartment too by the way.”

Jason’s face does something odd then.

It’s less like surprise and more like outright horror. You find yourself on high alert, wanting desperately to soothe it, you haven't seen him look at you like that before, like you’ve just single handedly sent him scrambling for solid ground.

For a second, you wish you never told him you knew.

“You found that?” He says, and there’s something vulnerable in his voice.

You hum in confirmation, “Came across it when I was clearing out my old clothes from the wardrobe.” You remember the surprise of finding it, all that food, and then the sharp bite of confusion that followed. “It’s still there, I haven’t touched it, figured it was something important.”

“You can get rid of it.” Jason chokes, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know it’s stupid and I’m sorry for hiding things in your apartment.”

“It’s not stupid.” You say quickly, jumping out from under the covers to reach for him, fingers grabbing at his waist, his shoulder. “Jay, if it means something to you then it’s not stupid. Not to me. M’not going to get rid of it unless you want me to, okay? You spend so much time at my place, I’m surprised that’s all you’ve stashed there.”

The faintest smile brushes his mouth and your fingers itch to chase the soft, plump curve of his lips. The urge feels more dangerous than holding a weapon, it feels more selfish, feels almost heavier. Walking your hand along the top of his shoulder you brush a stray strand of hair out of his eyes.

Jason says your name so softly, with so much meaning, and you shiver. His hand comes up to press over your own and your chest cracks wide open, everything important and critical about you exposed.

“Let's get some sleep, yeah?”

The mention of sleep makes you yawn and Jason smirks before shoving his finger in your wide open mouth.

**

You wake with his breath on the back of your neck.

There’s a slow realisation of the position you’re in. Jason plastered to your back, hand anchored around your waist. He’s warm and safe and you shuffle backwards even further into his hold, content to spend as much time as possible in his embrace.

When he wakes, you know that things will go back to normal. Both of you stuck between friends and something more.

Loving him is a lonely thing.

Under the early light of dawn you drag the very tips of your fingers over his forearm. There’s a faint twitch of muscles and you feel Jason sigh before he snuggles against you, leg nudging yours under the covers.

“Jay.” You whisper. “I need to get up, I’ve got to get ready for work.”

Slotting his leg between your own Jason grumbles and tightens his grip, “No.” He whines, sleep clinging thick to his voice. “Call in sick. Wanna cuddle with you.”

Tracing the veins from his wrist to the crook of his elbow you laugh lightly, squinting against the sunlight shining through the window, “Maybe next time?” You offer gently, peeling his arm from your waist.

“Promise?” He sighs, rolling over onto his back.

Sliding out of his bed you beeline for the bathroom and give him no response, not trusting yourself to say the right thing. If he asked, you’d promise him just about anything. If only to see the soft, touched smile on his face. If only for the chance to kiss him.

Before leaving though, you stop by his bedside and make sure the sheets are draped loosely around his shoulders; you know how much he hates feeling trapped, confined to one single space.

And if you drop a kiss to his forehead, that’s between you and the dawn.

**

Checking your phone as soon as you get home you almost catch fire.

The sudden heat reminds you of solar flares, bright and shining. A burst of plasma and energy powerful enough to knock your whole life straight out of orbit. He has a habit of doing that to you. Knocking you so far of course it feels like burning yourself alive.

Jay: I think you left these at mine this morning Jay: sent a photo

Opening the image you ache between your legs.

Jason has a pair of your underwear wrapped around his fist, and he’s holding his cock, precum leaking from the fat head all over the soft fabric. It’s the pair you were wearing yesterday and you know that they’re not exactly clean.

You: you’re killing me You: i’m dying You: they’re not clean, i wore them yesterday

His reply comes a few moments later and you struggle to keep some semblance of composure.

Jay: i know Jay: sent a video

Pressing play you sit down on the sofa and make sure the volume is turned up. The video focuses immediately on Jason’s thick cock. Your underwear is wrapped around the base and you watch as his fingers twist into the fabric before he drags it up to the wet tip, jerking himself off with it.

His breath stutters when his hips thrust upwards, shoving his cock through the cotton until he twitches. The fabric steadily gets stickier and stickier as he leaks everywhere, his fist tightening until he moans.

The camera shakes when Jason shudders and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip. He groans softly when your underwear rubs over the tip and you gasp at the wrecked sound of his voice, desperate to hear what other pretty noises he can make.

All the muscles in his stomach tighten and you’re mesmerised by the catch and release of them. Even more by the faint trail of hair dusting his navel. The edge of the camera barely catches his thighs but you see them shaking, see him struggling to control the urge to really fuck your underwear.

He fails miserably and you shake when he moans, long and low.

Grinding himself up into his fist he gasps and chokes out your name. Seconds later his body locks up and you almost whimper when Jason’s pretty cock starts twitching, covering your underwear with his come. His release is thick and white and your pussy aches, clit straining for even one touch, for even a slight bit of attention.

Jason says your name again and this time it’s different. It’s softer, you almost don’t think he meant for you to hear it.

But you did hear it and you go back, listen to it again because it’s breathy. Because if you close your eyes you can hear a touch of his Gotham accent. Because for a moment you could really believe that you’re there with him.

You: great You: imma go rub one out

Jay: aw for me? Jay: how cute

You: yeah for you You: want me to send you something?

Jay: please please please

You: okay

**

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Stevie Fic

This is a Stevie first meeting fic based on this amazing art and concept by @your-unfriendlyghost Like most of my stuff its not betaed. Enjoy!

*************

Evie really fucking wants to hit something.

It’s probably a bad idea considering hitting something-  well, someone-  is what got her here in the first place, but right now it feels like her options are fight or cry and she really doesn’t want to cry. 

The bench in the holding cell is cold under her bare legs, her skirt not long enough to properly cover them, but she can’t bring herself to care in the slightest, despite the fact she’s sharing the holding cell with two guys, one a drunk sleeping off a hangover in the corner, the other a tough looking greaser she vaguely recognizes from school, who’s flicking a lighter idly, clearly bored out of his mind. Her right hand is aching something awful, knuckles all split and bloody, but she clenches her fist tighter, letting the skin pull back, watches the small cuts reopen and the blood well up, filling the tiny cracks in the surrounding skin. It smarts something awful, but it’s kind of mesmerizing all the same. 

She focuses on the sharp sting, pretending the tears pricking her eyes are because of that instead of the fact that mom’s here talking to the police sergeant but she’s still never been further away. 

How did this even happen? A year ago her mother was her favourite person in the whole world. It was the two of them against the world, always had been, ever since dad died back when she was six. Mom never used to have a problem with how she dressed or did her hair, never used to care if she made lewd jokes or chewed with her mouth open because mom’s own manners were even worse and she liked them that way. A year ago if any man mom was seeing raised a hand to her mom would’ve punched him herself, fuck the consequences or the injuries, because she wasn’t ever gonna let a man know she was afraid of him, even if she was. A year ago if Evie had swung at someone for a good reason mom would’ve bailed her out and took her out for ice cream, smiled her crooked smile and told her she was right proud of her and her fighting spirit, made her promise to keep it close to her heart.

Now? Mom’s so different she might as well be a different person, and if this is the thanks Evie’s going to get for defending her, well, she can fucking fend for herself. If mom wants to simper and smile and bend over backwards for a man who treats her like dirt and Evie even worse she can fucking do it. If she wants to take his side and fuss over his broken nose while Evie’s stuck in this fucking cell then good riddance. But Evie’s never gonna throw a punch to defend her again, not ever. Hell, she might not even stick around the house. If mom’s gonna choose a man she met three months ago over the daughter she’s raised for the past sixteen years, why bother? Home hardly feels like home anymore anyway, what with Dean’s clothes in dad’s old dresser, and his presence sucking the air out of every room. Mom’s art supplies have been shoved into the closet to make room for Dean’s unemployment papers, and last week Evie got home from school to find he’d thrown out all her model airplanes. She’d sobbed- she’d been collecting them since she was six, and building the green one was the last thing she did with dad before he passed- but mom just told her to stop acting like such a child because they ‘were only toys anyway’ and went right back to cooking Dean dinner. As if she didn’t know those planes meant absolutely everything to her. As if she hadn’t scraped and saved to buy her one for her birthday every single year without fail. Like she didn’t even care.

A fresh wave of anger rushes through her at the memory, and the next thing Evie knows she’s on her feet, her fist connecting with the concrete wall. She feels more than she hears something in her hand crack, and the fresh wave of agony is definitely similar to when she broke her arm back in kindergarten, but she doesn’t even care. It feels good. She wants to hit something. She wants to hurt. She wants to throw punches the way her mother taught her in the hopes they will somehow help her forget said mother’s betrayal.

“Hey!” A cop with cropped brown hair raps on the cell door with his baton so hard the bars rattle, “knock it off!”

She glares at him for a second but drops back onto the bench. She tells herself it’s because she really does want to get out of here, preferably today, but deep down she knows it’s because the man’s cold eyes and the way he swings the baton make it clear he’d be all too happy to use it on her. 

“Crazy bitch,” she hears him mutter as he walks off,and she stiffens, suddenly wishing she’d spit on him while she had the chance. 

“What’d you expect?” A different voice answers, “These greasy chics are all the same. Wild as rabid dogs.”

A snicker. “And they dress just as poorly. My Adeline ever stepped outta the house wearing something like that she’d never be allowed back in.”

Their voices fade, getting reabsorbed into the racket of the precinct, but there words have already sunk into her skin, leaving cuts under her surface, making a home in the piece of her thats hates herself. She shivers a bit, hugging her jacket tighter around herself, and glowers at the linoleum floor, pointedly ignoring the prickling uncomfortable feeling of being watched. Between her outburst and the cop’s shouting it’s little wonder half the precinct is staring, but she refuses to give them the satisfaction of meeting any of their gazes. Besides, it’s not like she isn’t already used to being looked at like she’s a freak.

“--I mean?” Evie recognizes Dean’s voice easily, even over the din of the rest of the station, conspicuous due to its deep cadence and domineering tone, “that’s not normal behaviour, nice girls don’t do that. I really think I oughta press charges.”

Her head snaps up and she glares at him, snarling, despite the fact he’s pretending to ignore her. Even if he doesn’t see it, mom will, will know that Evie is nothing short of genuine in her hatred, that she regrets nothing. 

Besides, she knows the threat is an empty one anyway. Dean talks a good game but he knows better than to actually press charges for something like this. The cops hadn’t dragged Evieout for her side of the story yet and they’d been all too happy to put her in handcuffs- Dean’s ruined shirt and self righteous anger when he stormed in here had seen to that- but when she does get a chance to speak she’ll be all too happy to explain why she punched him in the first place, and that probably won’t go over too well with a judge.

Of course, mom could always lie for him, rendering her whole defense useless. But Evie’s trying not to think about that. Surely mom still loves her somewhere. Surely she won’t let her own daughter go to the cooler for a half baked crime even if she doesn’t. 

Right?

“It’s those friends of hers,” mom defends, letting out a trilling, fake laugh, smiling as placatingly as possible at Dean and the cop they’re sitting across from. Her eyes dart towards Evie's and away so fast she’s half convinced she imagined it, “they’re such terrible influences. She didn’t mean it.”

“She broke my nose.”

And I'd do it again, asshole, Evie thinks. Her hand is killing her, but if it wasn’t she’d have clenched her fist at the mere thought. That was the one upside of this whole situation: she’d finally been able to do what she’d been wanting to do for months. She’ll be dreaming of the satisfying crunch Dean’s nose had made when she deviated his septum for weeks. 

“She’s your daughter,” Dean continues, “Don’t you think she ought to be punished?”

“Of course I do,” mom simpers, cosying into Dean’s side, gazing up at him with such a sickeningly sweet look Evie wants to vomit,  “But don’t you think pressing charges is a little harsh? I mean, she’s never done anything like this before.”

“Well you have to do something, Caroline, she’s out of control. Talking back, giving me attitude, not listening to you either-”

He keeps going but Evie tunes him out, done listening to his bitching, God knows she already hears enough of it at home. She hates that he’s here, that he lives with them, that he’s ruined every good thing in her life. She hates the way mom looks at him. 

Most of all she hates that she only swung at him once. 

The guy across from her with the lighter is still flicking it rhythmically, the clicking sound oddly sharp, distinguishable even over the overlapping conversations in the precinct itself, but its owner doesn’t seem so bored anymore. In fact, he keeps glancing over at her and then quickly looking away every time their eyes meet. She has half a mind to tell him he’s gonna waste all the gas in his lighter if he keeps it up, or maybe offer him a cigarette in exchange for a light, but she figures the boys in blue might decide to take some issue with that and she isn’t about to get a full pack of marlboros confiscated when she only just bought them.

“Fine!” Dean is suddenly looking right at her, voice rising above the precinct for real this time, “I won’t press charges this time, but I’m sure as hell not paying her bail. She can rot here as far as I’m concerned.”

The rage is a tidal wave bursting through a dam, all consuming and back full force before she can even blink

“Like you could pay it anyway, asshole!” Her unbroken hand is slamming into the bars and he should be grateful for it because it’s the only standing between him and Evie wringing his thick neck, “Last I checked you were a broke, unemployed loser spending my mom’s hard earned money because youre too much much of a fuck up to have a single cent to your own name!”

He sneers, cruelly, but doesn’t rise to the bait. She’ll catch it for sure next time she’s in the house, and he’ll probably find something of hers to break in the meantime, but for the moment he manages to hold himself together.

“Enjoy the holding cell Evelyn.”

“Seriously?” She turns to mom, half desperate, half pleading, knowing it won’t make a difference and hoping foolishly, childishly, that it will anyway, “You’re just going to let him leave me here?”

“Evie-”

“You’re my mom.” Her voice breaks.

Mom flinches, but she hides it well. Evie notices, because she knows her tells, knows the slight trick of her left eye is her way of hiding heartbreak, just like she knows mom never really got over losing dad as much as she always tried to convince herself she did, knows Dean saw the loneliness that festered in mom’s heart and twisted it to his advantage. She knows that mom is strong in some ways but not all of them and that a part of her has given up. She just hadn’t realized until now that the part of her that gave up had given up on Evie.

“I did it for you,” her voice is shaking, and Dean could be screaming and the precinct could be burning around them and it wouldn’t matter because all she can see right now is her mother’s apologetic brown eyes and the fact that she has let her down for the last time, “for you. Not for me. And this is the thanks I get?”

“I’m sorry,” mom whispers, shame twisting her features, “but- but you did a bad thing Evie, and-and we don’t really have the money for bail right now anyway. They’ll only hold you for a day or two anyway and then you can come home and we’ll figure this out, the three of us.”

“Come home?” She can’t help the scoff that forces its way out of her throat, “You think you can leave me here, after everything, and I’ll just come home like nothing happened?”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Try me.”

“Dean’s right,” mom shakes herself and the glimpse of her true self is gone, replaced by the shell of a woman filled with Dean’s slimy thoughts, “you need a few days to cool down. You’re impossible to talk to right now.”

“Imagine how much more impossible to talk to I’ll be when I'm gone and your sack of human shit boyfriend won’t even let you try to find me!” Evie yells at her retreating back, “Huh? Huh, you fucking bitch! Fuck. You.” She punctuates the last two words with a weak rap against the bars, but as suddenly as her anger overtook her it has drained away, leaving nothing but misery in its wake.

The brown haired cop doesn’t have to rap on the bars this time to make her behave. She slinks back to the bench, a woman defeated. 

She doesn’t cry, but it’s a near thing. In fact, she still might. It’s taking a lot of harsh blinking and biting the inside of her cheek to keep the tears from falling, but she refuses to crumple here, to be weak in front of a room full of men who have already seen her humiliated and powerless, men who have actively participated in making her that way. They will not get the victory of seeing her cry too. They won’t. 

“Here,” suddenly the boy with the lighter is next to her, holding out a stained, but soft looking rag. She must have stared at him a beat too long because he clears his throat awkwardly, cheeks reddening ever so slightly, “for your hand.”

“Oh,” she’d all but forgot about her split knuckles and probably broken ring finger, but when she looks down she can see that it’s started to swell something awful, which has in turn increased how much she’s bleeding, “thanks.”

She struggles to wrap the rag clumsily around her knuckles. Without meaning to she makes the mistake of accidentally twitching her broken finger and drops the rag with a hiss, instinctively cradling her hand closer to her chest.

“Here, let me- I mean- I can wrap your hand for you? If you want?” Lighter guy offers. He’s endearingly awkward, and, Evie has to admit, kind of cute, with his thick dark hair and glowing bronze skin. He looks about as rough as most guys from their side of town, intimidating with his leather jacket and seemingly instinctual scowl, but he doesn’t seem scary. Not really. Not when he’s this kind.

Wordlessly she holds out her hand and he takes her wrist with a gentleness that’s unprecedented from such large callused hands, clearly used to hard work, as he carefully threads the cloth over and around her knuckles, covering most of the cuts without tying anything too tightly.

She’s almost disappointed when he pulls away.

“You’re real good at that.”

“Yeah well,” he grins, suddenly roguish and Evie can see how he could be mean if he wanted to, “it’s not exactly my first time bandaging bruised knuckles. Might be my first time bandaging them on a girl though.”

“Oh yeah?” Despite her misery she can feel a smile tugging at the corner of her own lips.

He nods. “You oughta join a rumble sometime, looks like that right hook of yours does some real damage.”

“He deserved it!” Evie snaps. 

“Looked like it,” The boy agrees, holding up his hands in surrender. He’s quiet for a minute, then adds, “Sounded like it too.”

Something about the way he says it makes her pause.

“He was gonna hit my mom,” she admits, shivering at the memory of Dean’s rage and the way mom had tensed, hands flying up to shield her face. She’d said after, when Dean was still screaming and everything had gone to shit that he’d never done it before, but her reaction had told Evie otherwise. “He was standin’ over her and I could see him pulling back and in that moment it felt like my options were hit or be hit. So I punched him.”

“Tuff.”

Evie blinks. “Ya think?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “I really do.”

Something in her chest relaxes at that, at not only his non judgemental assessment of her actions but his clear approval of them. She hadn’t realized how much she needed someone on her side until now.

She looks at him, really looks at him. Aside from his thick hair and smooth skin, he’s got slightly crooked teeth and a strong nose. His eyes are angry, but righteously so, not cruelly so, and there is kindness hidden in the curve of his cheek and the calluses of his hands.

“You’re Steve, right? I’ve seen you around school before with that friend of yours. The blond one.”

“Sodapop, yeah,” He gives her an odd look, slightly pleased but clearly taken aback, “I gotta be honest, I’m not used to people knowing my name and not his.”

“Oh,” It’s her turn to blush, “well, I-I guess he never really made much of an impression on me.”

“Well since you seem to know my name, does that mean I made an impression on you?” 

“No,” her cheeks are burning and she doesn’t sound convincing, even to herself, but if she’d seen Steve Randle doing pull ups when she walked past the boys gym class once and made a point of learning his name, that’s no one's business but her own. It didn’t have to mean anything. It didn’t mean anything before now. “Shut up.”

He laughs, and she should probably be annoyed because he’s definitely teasing her but it’s such a nice sound, carefree and inherently defiant, that it’s hard to do anything but enjoy it.

“Someone call for a jailbreak?” 

Before Steve can properly answer they’re interrupted.

Speak of the devil, Evie thinks, silently cursing Sodapop as he grins through the bars at Steve, flanked by an older boy wearing ascuffed letterman jacket and the brown haired cop from earlier. He couldn’t have waited to get here just a few minutes longer?

“Took you long enough,” Steve rises fluidly to his feet as the cop unlocks the cell, and nods at the other boy, “Hey superman. What’re you doin’ here?”

“Gotta be over 18 to bail someone out Steve-o,” Sodapop singsongs, before the older boy can get a word in, “an’ I figured you wouldn’t want me gettin’ mom or dad involved unless I had to.”

“Thanks man,” Steve pulls them each into one of those odd half hugs boys do, clapping the big one called Superman on the shoulder as he pulls away, “speaking of, any chance you’d be willing to sign for one more person? I’ll pay the bail, I just need your signature.”

He looks over his shoulder expectantly and Evie realizes with a start that he means bail for her.

“What? No! Steve you guys can’t- I don’t got the scratch to pay you back-”

“Well I ain’t about to leave you here by your lonesome all night, and it don’t seem like your mom’s fixing to come back anytime soon. Darry here won’t mind signin’ the papers since I’m vouchin’ for you.”

‘’Course not.” The older boy agrees.

Evie bites her lip, considering. She really, really doesn’t want to stay here, especially without Steve for company, but she also doesn’t have the funds to pay him back.

“I really can’t pay you back-”

“Listen, if you really wanna pay me back you could agree to go out on a date with me?“

“O-oh,” she smiles down at her feet, “I- yeah, I’d love to.”

“Really?”

He really shouldn’t sound so shocked. She’d basically been the one to admit to liking him, after all.

“Yeah. Really really.”

“I’m Evie by the way,” she tells him as she and Steve walk side by side out of the precinct, realizing she has yet to introduce herself, despite how long they’ve been talking.

“Oh,” Steve's grin is playful, “I know. I make a point of learning the names of pretty girls.”

“I guess I must’ve made an impression on you too, huh?”

He gently takes her non broken hand in his, twining their fingers together.

‘Yeah,” he agrees, “I guess so.”

[beatrixstonehill2]

Kimberley's dad approached his daughter filming on his phone, zooming on the girl's plump ass. "Hello, sweetheart, say hi for the camera!"

"Oh, hello, daddy!" Kimberley said, turning. Her cock measured almost a foot long, quite hard, excessively swollen and red from so much masturbation. She waved to her dad, smiling.

"Look at how gorgeous you are. Excited to live at home with mom and me again?"

"I've been looking forward to it all semester! Um, sorry if my clothes are too skimpy..... My college wardrobe is a bit, well, tailored for college life."

"I bet you distracted the whole class with that big cock of yours hanging out."

"Oh yes! Girls would come up to me all day and service me, guys would just fuck me from behind and jerk me off. Oh! Sorry again.... was that too raunchy?"

"Nah, the family will just be happy to have you back in town for a while. I'm happy you've grown into such a sexually active girl. Last time you were living here you were so shy, but you were barely starting to transition by then. Once you went to college, though, your mother and I were delighted by how fast you went from a shy feminine boy to a total vixen. We watched all the videos you'd post. We couldn't believe how your social media was all about art and music one second, then you're in a tiny dress looking and sounding just like any other girl, getting fucked in the ass by two guys at once!"

Kimberley giggled. "That was a fun day, I think I had sex with over twenty boys! And of course.... I'm not quite like any other girl, daddy." Kimberley lifted and jerked her monster cock.

"Look at that thing. You really pumped it full supplements, huh? And those balls are so big I can hardly believe it...."

"Uh-huh! The guys at all the frat houses injected my cock with stuff to make it grow. And my balls are almost the size of my fists! I can cum a whole liter in one orgasm! Wanna see?"

"Why not? And I'm glad those boys did this to you, you look gorgeous with such a big cock, sweetie."

"Thank you, daddy." Kimberley rolled back her eyes, jerking with one hand as she grabbed one of her breasts and squeezed it until milk squirted out, she stared directly into her dad's eyes, jerking faster, eventually bringing her other hand from her breast to her fat ass, inserting her fingers, using her milk as lube, fisting her ass as she smiled and panted, increasing her rhythm for a while until she rapidly sped up both her cock pumping and her fisting until she squealed in a slightly boyish voice. She shot rope after rope of cum, almost twenty, creating a huge mess on the outer edges of their inground pool. By the end of her orgasm, Kimberley was lightheaded, drooling, eyes rolled back, her brain looking friend. "How..... did I do...... daddy?" she asked, licking the hand she used to fist herself.

"Perfect, sweetie. It's going to be so fun having you live with us....."

"How long has it been since you moved in with us, sweetie?" Kimberley's dad asked his hugely obese pig of a daughter.

"Mmmm, omffff," she stuffed her face, smiling, talking with her mouth open, "A bit over one year."

"Wow, and just how did you get so fat so fast, darling?"

"You guys don't stop feeding me all day...."

"No, we don't. What else have we done to get you so gorgeously fat?"

"You force funnel feed me weight-gain drinks a few times a day......"

"How many calories does our perfect, horny college slut consume a day?"

"At least thirty thousand calories. You and mom put me on a thirty-pound a month diet as soon as I settled in. I've put on 370lbs in one year," she explained, all with her mouth open, shoving fries in and chewing loudly.

"So how much does our oversexed angel weigh now?"

"Almost 500lbs...."

"Wow, from a petite, albeit fat-assed, slim and fit girl who's up for countless hours of sex and masturbation a day to such a pile of lard. What's your favorite part of being so hugely fat, darling?"

Kimberley smiled, blushing, unwrapping a double cheeseburger. "Everything...... I love struggling to walk. I love how hard it is to get up, to do anything. I was so into looking good and being sexy, now I hardly bathe. My heart feels like it's going to pop from putting on so much weight so fast! I'll never look slim and sexy again and that turns me on so much. Plus it makes my cock so hard when you two get so excited about fattening me up and seeing my weight go up and up. Even if I am totally gross now...." Kimberley said, all between belches, shoving the burger in her mouth, farting loudly, her stomach gurgling in so much distress the mic picked it up from a distance.

"That's our lovely daughter. Ever since you started transitioning, and posted those raunchy videos of you getting fucked in every hole, puking on guys' cock as you were cheered on, pregnant sorority sluts forcing your cock into their holes as they pinned you down or against a wall. You looked so divine. Your mom and I would discuss how fat we'd love to see you get ever since. Every night we'd fantasize about seeing you get so fat you can't walk, so fat your poor heart can't keep up with all the lard we pile on you. And most of all we fantasized about you loving every second of it, even as you have a heart attack, caked in grease, sitting in your own excrement, a total slob weighing over a thousand pounds, cumming as she feels her heart finally give up."

"Oh fuck! Mmmmm!" Kimberley came, lifting her belly a bit too fate, getting wad after wad of cum splattered against it, flatulating and groaning in discomfort as she pulled up her heavy belly, her fourteen-inch bloated cock shooting load after load across the living room floor. After finishing she clenched her chest, panting. "Oh fuck, daddy.... Mmmmm...... I can hardly breathe I'm so fat, my heart is pounding so much it hurts! Oh!"

Her dad smiled, taking her other hand, encouraging her to put her belly back down, piling all that heavy fat on top of her cock. "Good girl. You're everything we ever wanted out of a daughter. Now eat up, mom is about to prepare your next weight gain shake, so make sure you finish your second lunch by then, OK?"

"OK, daddy." She slowly returned to her bag and opened another double cheeseburger, still panting, sweating, letting out a few belches and farts as she resumed stuffing her face. Her dad felt so proud of how eagerly fat she became in so short a time, and couldn't wait to see how huge she'd get in another year, if her heart was up for the task.

[l3ss3rth4n]

Today I :

Practiced deepthroating Threw up and throat slimed all over myself and rubbed it into my tits and Cunt

Beat my Cunt lips bloody and raw for well over 20 minutes

Shoved garbage and cigarette butts up my Cunt and chewed up cigarette butts, I will be sleeping with the garbage up my cunt and leaving it there until my master instructs me otherwise

Fucked my ass in my Cunt hole with a toilet brush

I broke and threw away my vibrstor

I bought large toys to stretch my ass and practice deep throating with

I beat my cunt with a ruler until I couldn’t stand it anymore

I taped the trash into my cunt to ferment overnight

I slammed my tits into drawers

I attempted to fist my asshole

I chewed up old news paper and shoved it up my cunt

I beat my inner thighs with a ruler and a wooden spoon

I beat the under side of my tits

Punched myself in the cunt and the fat gut

Oh wow 😁 today was absolutely amazing I have never been more of a depraved cunt in my whole life. Thanks so much to my new owner for showing me the way.

What have you done today to objectify yourself and serve the patriarchy? Today alone i have -

- I destroyed my vibrator

- Practiced deepthroating with my fist until I spewed throatslime and puke all over my tits and I rubbed it all over my body and cunt

- I clamped my cunt flaps and beat them bloody and raw for well over 20 minutes

- I chewed up trash : hair, cigarette butts, cigarette pack, the old silicone from my vibrstor, price tags, cellophane, old newspaper, and I shoved it up my cunt and taped it shut. I will be sleeping tonight with my cunt full of trash and it will stay there until I get further instructions from my master

- I put trash from my works bathroom into my mouth and cunt and fucked my holes with a toilet brush from there too

- I bought large toys on Amazon to be shipped to my house by tomorrow, one is a large diameter fist plug and the other is a regular suction cup dildo

- I beat my cunt with a ruler till I couldn’t take it anymore and i was severely bruised

- I punched myself in my fat pig gut many times

- I slapped the inside of both my thighs with a ruler 100 times, and 40 times with a wooden spoon

- I slammed my tits into my dresser drawers

- I slapped myself in the face 20 times

I have never felt more disgusting and in my place. I am a garbage pigslime gutter whore and I will be treated as such. If you aren’t degrading yourself for men and pushing all your limits what are you even doing? Expose yourself. Accept conditioning. Do what you were born to do as a female cunt.

[shion-yu]

Taco Fiesta 2.0

Quick story for fun ft. @wussifer's OC Jack and my boy Cliff who are actual soulmates in another life <3 Based on this. 1,287 words, CW: food poisoning, emeto, mucho fluff.

Jack's love for questionably safe street food had gotten him in trouble more than once over the years. Cliff kept telling him to stay away from those stands but Jack's memory seemed only to last a few months before he took the plunge again. This time is was "Phil's Philly Steaks" and Jack thought the name was way too funny to pass up trying. 

Cliff groaned and tried to tug him along. "Jack, please, Leo's got dinner at home waiting for us," he tried, but it was hopeless. The call of street meat with a terrible pun was all too powerful. 

"It's fine," Jack said casually as he handed over a wad of ones. "I have a different stomach for this kind of thing."

"You do not," Cliff rolled his eyes. "Just don't come to me when it's 'Got Taco to the Fiesta' 2.0, alright?" 

"Sure, baby," Jack said cheerfully, accepting the giant paper plate overflowing with steaming Philly steak that he was handed. "Thanks man," he told the vendor and Cliff followed behind him to a nearby bench.

Cliff looked at Jack's purchase with distaste. "That looks like brains," he said. 

Jack took a big bite and hummed with satisfaction. "Delicious brains though. Wanna try?" 

"Absolutely not," Cliff said, pushing the forkful Jack was holding up away and sticking out his tongue. He waited as Jack miraculously devoured the entire meal and threw away the plate with a satisfied burp. "You're so gross," Cliff whined as Jack laughed and appologized. 

They took the train back home and made it to Leo's apartment without further incident. Jack's belly was sticking out a bit but true to his word, he managed to shove down a whole plate of dinner made by Leo, too. Cliff had no idea how his boyfriend had such a bottomless appetite but he figured at least Jack was eating enough for the both of them, given Cliff no longer ate my mouth. After dinner they went to Jack's room where Jack sat at his desk to study and Cliff watched videos on bed. 

Jack was still studying when Cliff got sleepy and turned in for the night. "Night Jackie," he said. Jack blew him a kiss and looked fondly at his little family on bed, made up of Cliff, one cat in his arms and one dog at his feet. He had about fifty of the same exact picture but he couldn't help but snap another one with his phone, they were just so cute. 

Around eleven, Jack's stomach started rumbling loudly. He rubbed it and shifted in his chair uncomfortably. He had definitely eaten too much today, but it'd go down soon enough. Except an hour later, it certainly hadn't gone down and Jack felt even more bloated than before. He groaned and stood up, thinking maybe walking around would help. Did they have Tums in the bathroom? Jack located then and chewed two of the tablets. The chalky taste did the opposite of make him feel better and he realized very quickly that he was feeling nauseous. 

It was just too much food, he told himself. No way this was the tacos from three months ago 2.0. He hit his chest with his fist a few times and let out a loud belch that made his eyes water. He glanced at Cliff but his boyfriend was still sleeping soundly. The dog, however, was staring at him in startled disdain.

"Sorry Sabi," Jack said, rubbing his aching stomach. Sabi sniffed as if he understood and rested his head back down on Cliff's legs. 

Jack tried to go back to studying, but his stomach was really burning now and it felt like the words he was attempting to read were running all over the page. He had begun to sweat and groaned, pushing his chair away from the desk and pressing his forehead on the edge. He tried to breathe through the nausea but one thought about the neon yellow cheese sauce on that cheese steak today put him over the edge and he made a mad dash for the bathroom.

It was an absurd amount of food to have eaten, and it felt absurd coming back up. Jack threw up wave after wave of chunky, smelly vomit and swore to himself for probably the twentieth time that he'd listen to Cliff about the street food next time. After a few minutes it seemed like he was empty, and the dizziness was gone. Jack flushed the toilet and stood on shaky legs to wash his face and hands in the sink. He listened, but Leo's bedroom was too far away to hear and Cliff seemed to have manage to sleep through it despite the occasional very loud moan that had come out of him. 

Jack returned to the desk in his room, hoping that was it. Going back to studying turned out to be a no go though and Jack gave up quickly, crawling into bed next to Cliff and resting his head on Cliff's chest. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. The attempt lasted about fifteen minutes before Jack was launching himself back into the bathroom for round two. That solidified it - it wasn't just overeating and Phil's Philly Steak was most certainly the culprit. Jack threw up until there really wasn't anything left but stomach acid. It took him another ten minutes to gather the strength to stand up and wash up again, spraying some air freshener on his way out to mask the putrid smelling combo of fry oil mixed with puke. 

Jack stumbled back to bed and lay down, clutching his stomach with a loud groan. Cliff didn't look so cute asleep anymore. He looked annoyingly peaceful while Jack was going through cheese steak purgatory. Jack shook his shoulder, whining. "Cli-ifffff." 

Cliff twitched and opened his eyes, squinting at Jack cluelessly. "What?" He asked, his voice thick with sleep.

"I threw up," Jack said pathetically. 

"Oh, sorry baby," Cliff mumbled, reaching for Jack and pulling him close. "Do you... need... Zzzz." Aaaaand he was asleep again. Jack sighed and cuddled against Cliff anyways. Cliff tended to be fairly useless between the hours of ten PM and eight AM unless Jack really set off the alarms, but he wasn't going to do that for another round of food poisoning by stupidity. 

"Thanks Cliff, you're so comforting," Jack muttered. Cliff's arms did feel nice though, and before Jack knew it his eyes had begun to sag closed. "Love you," he said.

The next morning there'd be plenty of time for scolding and then coddling and rubbing Jack's back as he threw up again. But at least until morning, the two of them managed to sleep - one much deaper than the other. 

"You should've woke me up," Cliff said the next morning while serving Jack plain toast in bed, hoping it would ease Jack's stomach cramps.

"I did," Jack said.

"Really?" Cliff asked, a look of genuine confusion on his face. "Sorry. I don't remember."

"It's okay," Jack said. "I'll forgive you if you make me a good Philly cheese steak at home."

Cliff made a face of disbelief. "Jack, you cannot seriously want to eat right now," he said.

"Not now! Later. To erase the taste of the poisonous version from my memory," Jack said.

Cliff shook his head. "Maybe you should try and remember the poisonous one next time you want street food," Cliff said. But then Jack gave him such kicked puppy dog eyes that he added, "Okay, I'll do it, just listen to me next time, please?" 

Jack grinned, gave Cliff innocent doe eyes and said with an incredible amount of confidence, "I always listen to you!"

[junijunijune]

Knotting | Virginity | Impact Play

Kinktober 2024

DND flavoured again M/F - Half-Draconic Sorcerer/Rogue The impact play is squint and you miss it but still. Bingo. This is my favourite one so far. I really like these two. This was GREAT fun.

Annette slapped his ass as a joke. They were all a little tipsy. The adventure had gone well and they had come back with some excellent treasure to sell. He was just so serious and intense all the time and it had seemed funny. A way to get a rise out of him. She’d expected a little jump and maybe a scowl. Instead he turned and gave her a level, serious look. She flashed a grin.

“Did I cross some dragon cultural taboo? Are you going to lecture me?” she asked.

A look passed between the others sitting around the camp fire. She had definitely crossed some line but they’d all been giving her a lot of leeway on that sort of thing. She was the thief. It was her job to wiggle in and out of tight spaces with big bags of gold. It wasn’t her job to be diplomatic. When her shitty back alley manners annoyed one of the oh-so-serious adventurers, they all laughed it off. So she wasn’t too worried about it.

“Is that what you want? A lecture?” he asked.

“Not really, no,” she told him.

“And what do you want?”

“An orgasm so good I forget my own name, twice my share of the gold, a really good pair of boots, what else? A dog? I want I dog. A smart one, that can do tricks and will bite people who try to break into my flat. Why, what do you want?”

He scowled at her.

And then stood and walked away.

She sighed.

“Gods above, you are a nightmare,” said the cleric.

“Oh, excuse me,” she drawled trying to laugh it off. The cleric just scowled with her stick firmly lodged up her ass. Annette stuck out her tongue. She was being a petulant child but sometimes, rarely but sometimes, she could get Marhax to play along with her and she'd been hoping for a laugh from him not the scowl.

“If you want some recreational sexual harassment, go after Korentin, he’ll enjoy it.”

“I would in fact welcome it!” Korentin said. “You can slap my ass any day.”

“Should I go apologize to the scaly bastard?” Ani asked.

“We’ll be back in the city tomorrow, you should leave him alone, he’ll never have to see you again.”

Ani exhaled hard. She had never quite gotten along with Rekki. Rekki liked rules and order. Ani was an impulsive nightmare who liked to make Rekki scowl at her. She leaned in and put on her sweetest smile. “Delightful mood we’re having this evening, isn’t it?”

“Did you know he was raised by the dragon side of his family? Never spent any time around humans. You’re probably his first crush and you’ve been torturing the poor bastard since Waterdeep. Leave him alone.”

Ani shoved her foot further down her throat by saying, “If you’re so worried about his fee-fees you can follow him into the woods.”

The look she got said that the cleric had definitely made a pass at the scaly bastard and had definitely been shot down. Ani was offending everybody on the last night of the trip. Korentin looked amused by it all but Korentin always looked amused by everything. He was just enjoying every part of his life. He was enjoying the drama and popped a handful of whatever snack he was eating into his mouth and grinned as he chewed.

“Ah,” she said. “That’s something to think about. Hm. Alright.”

She got up and walked away from the fire, not in the direction that Marhax had stormed off but it didn’t take her long to loop back around and head in that direction. Curiosity. Impulse. The idea of the big scaly weirdo having a crush on anyone was almost funny and the idea of him having one on her was a whole different idea.

He was pretty. Big gray eyes. Black curls. Silvery blue scales that were shiny in the sunlight. He was mostly human shaped except for the tail and the horns. He was very tall but willowy. Useless in a fist fight but he called down lightning and had saved all their asses a handful of times. The claws, the horns, the scales, all the magic, the serious expressions. He didn’t seem like someone it was possible to torment with recreational sexual harassment. He was an otherworldly creature, not some guy.

She found him by the edge of the lake, stretching his back and looking at the water. She snuck up on him out of habit more than an attempt to surprise him. Quiet and a bit uncomfortable. Ani was good at being an asshole and bad at apologizing for it. She climbed up onto one of the rocks nearby and finally got her self together enough to say something.

“Sorry, Mar,” she said.

He jumped like she’d set him on fire. Whirling his a palm out and his eyes lighting up. She held up both hands in a surrender gesture. He could definitely obliterate her in a fair fight. He could probably obliterate her even if she’d snuck up on him with the intention of knife him in the guts and robbing him. He dropped his hands and did scowl.

“I’m a little drunk, just trying to be funny,” she said.

He let out a string of curse words in a language she did not understand.

Ethereal. Not just some guy. Incredibly powerful magical being with long thick claws and shimmery scales. He was even wearing robes. He was definitely not just some guy who was capable of having a crush on a street urchin with messy hair and light fingers. That was definitely Rekki trying to get Annette into trouble by telling her something stupid that would embarrass her.

“Apology accepted,” Marhax managed to say in the tight annoyed voice he used most often with her and not the others.

She did not say, hey, Rekki implied you wanted to fuck me and making jokes about orgasms is akin to torturing you. She thought it but she didn’t say it.

“Where are you headed once we get back to town?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

He started to walk away from her again and she hopped down off her rock to stand in his way. He had more than foot of height on her and while he was willowy and slender compared to Korentin, he had very nice shoulders. He pressed his lips together and the serious look flickered into a tiny frown.

Impulse won out over being polite or flirtatious. Ani was not good at any of that. Her mouth opened and words came out. That was how it had always been.

“You know, if you wanted to celebrate, I’d be very very open to that. If you wanted. We could. You know. I’m trying really hard to offer you sex without being offensive or culturally insensitive.”

He blinked at her.

Fuck. Rekki set her up.

“You’re very human, aren’t you?”

“Yup. Not even the wizardy magicky type of human. Garden variety. Common as dirt.”

“You’re not common,” he said.

It was her turn to blink. “Bet you I am.”

“You’re very impressive.”

“The thieving? Sure. Gotta pay the bills. Still garden variety dirty dirty human,” she said with a shrug.

“Annette,” he said in a tone that made her stop her rambling entirely. He leaned down to study her face and she was immediately self conscious about the tangle she’d yanked her hair back into and whether or not there was any actual dirt on her face. He was always intense. Of course he’d be intense about an offer for a drunk post-heist fuck. He touched her chin and used a clawed finger to tilt her chin so he could study her face.

Her hand came up to rest on his chest. All the colours of him were icy and cold but he was warm. She could feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his top.

This was a bad idea. He was intense and he was not a dirty common back-alley human. He was warm and beautiful and so serious. She was going to fuck this up incredibly. She knew how to fuck other back alley urchins. She even knew how to fuck rich men who had something she wanted. She did not have any idea what to do with magical half-dragon men with serious eyes and gentle hands.

“Marhax,” she said when the silent moment had stretched too far.

“I would like to take you up on your offer.”

“Thank fuck,” she said and then immediately snapped a hand over her mouth because it broke the mood and even he let out a startled little laugh. “I- um- Good. Yeah. Ok.”

Once his seriousness broke, he smiled at her. Fuck. He had sharp serrated teeth. He laughed and shook his head and then he leaned the rest of the way in and kissed her. She twisted her fingers into his shirt and held on for dear life. He was tentative and she managed to hold herself back and let him kiss her softly for a few moments.

Storybook perfect.

Then she was pulling him in tighter and hooking her arm around his neck so she could kiss him harder. The kiss got hungrier. He did not try and slow her back down, he met her with a clumsy enthusiasm that reminded her that he’d probably never been with a human before. What was dragon sex like? Was his pretty elegant humanness a turn on to the other dragons? Had he been the outcast in school or the most fuckable twink in class? Ani kissed him again rather than risking her mouth running away and asking all those questions.

She resisted the urge to get her tongue in his mouth with those teeth. She could handle the possibility that they were sharp enough to cut her but he’d probably freak out if he thought he hurt her. He laughed when she kissed his jaw and then down the side of his neck. He tilted his head back for her and groaned a little when she found the line of scales that ran down from the hollow behind his ear. She dragged her tongue along them until she got to his shirt collar. She fumbled a bit to unlace it and he enthusiastically let it drop.

“If I’d known kissing shut you up, I’d have tried it earlier.”

She barked out a laugh and looked up at him with her mouth still pressed against his collar bone.

“Don’t tell Rekki. If she tried, I might have have to murder her.”

“I think you’re probably safe there,” he said. “Korentin might try but not her.”

“True.”

Korentin had made a few passes early on but it had taken Ani didn’t like to fuck coworkers on a job. Especially early on a job. Too many complications. Flirting was fine but things got weird if a guy thought he had some special connection. Women could be even more complicated even women who were more likeable than Rekki. Intense dragon-men with beautiful laughs were a whole different realm of complicated but if it went really, really bad, she’d be back in the city in a few days with enough money to disappear.

And there was the tiniest sliver of a chance that it went very well.

“Take off your shirt,” she said.

He obeyed immediately, pulling the shirt off and dropping it in a heap with the robe. The scales covered a lot more of his chest and back than she expected. The lines on his arms and neck suggested that it was a little bit of decoration but his entire back was scales with small spines she could feel when she pulled him back in for another kiss. That line of not-quite-spikes led down to his thick tail. He stomach was a little more human with the trails of scales that ran off his back petering out into smooth skin over his rubs and belly.

Ani took her time. He liked to kiss and he let her run her hands all over him as long as she kept her mouth on his. She steered a little, picking out one of the rocks by the shore to sit him down on so she could climb into his lap. She sat on his thighs and played with his hair and then traced her fingers along his horns. He shivered a bit.

“You can feel them? I figured they were like finger nails or something?”

“Like teeth? I mean, they’re not teeth, but there are nerves in there. It would hurt if you cut it off.”

“I won’t hurt you, I promise,” she said kissing the middle of his forehead. He wrapped his arms around her a little more tightly and she let him hang on for a few minutes while she traced the blue and silver lines of the curving horns from base to tip.

“Any requests?” she asked.

“Requests?” he echoed sounding a bit spacey.

“So my intentions here are to get on my knees and suck your cock until it’s hard. Then I’m going to climb back up here and ride you until I get that orgasm that makes me forget my own name. Then we’re both going to take a bit of a breather and when you’re ready to go again. I want you to lay me out on the ground and fuck me again. But. It’s a flexible plan. I’m open to suggestion.”

“That sounds good.”

“Perfect.”

“Wait,” he said before she could get down off his lap. “Take your clothes off?”

She smiled at him. He said it like a question. Sweet and almost innocent. He wasn’t that young. He had mentioned being forty something. Dragons lived a long time but he was still at least twice her age. Still, in that moment, he seemed sweeter and younger than he usually did. She kissed him and then stood up in front of him and put his hands on the laces at the front of her shirt. Her jacket was still back by the fire, her boots were loose, she was halfway to undressed by the time she’d had her third glass of wine.

Watching him carefully open up the poorly fitting shirt was the hottest thing that had happened so far. He was careful, he used the claw tips to open everything up. She was deeply distracted by the possibility of him using those claws and simply ripping her clothes off. Some other time maybe. He seemed intent on the storybook perfect moment and she didn’t want him to rip up the decent trousers that actually fit. He unwrapped her like he was unwrapping a present until it was just her in her panties and bra. It wasn’t a matched set. Now that she had some money, she should buy some hot lingerie. She took the bra off and added it to the pile of discarded clothing. Better. At least the panties didn’t look so ragged.

Marhax touched her like he wasn’t allowed and was about to get scolded. Gentle. Careful, with glances up at her.

“Honey, you’re not going to hurt me,” she said. She pulled his palm up to her breast and squeezed a bit. He took the encouragement and repeated it. He squeezed her breasts, weighed them in his hands. Slid his palms down and did the same with her hips and her ass. There was strength in those hands and he was not quite sure how much of it to use.

She let him do what he wanted with her with as much patience as he’d allowed her when she was tracing scale lines and fussing with his horns. Almost as much patience. She wasn’t a patient person and it didn’t take long before she was tracing the lines of scales that ran down his sides and over his hips towards his cock. She could see the bulge of it through his trousers and set about freeing it.

“Oh,” she said once she’d unlaced and pushed enough fabric out of the way to get a good look at it. “That’s not a human dick.”

He choked on a sound that was half laugh, half cough.

“That was rude,” she said. “Was expecting it to be human. This isn’t bad. This is really, really not bad. I am not complaining. You surprised me.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s very big and blue and um, that is not the shape of most human cocks. I talk when I’m nervous.”

“My cock makes you nervous.”

“Yup,” Ani said. “Not going to let that stop me. Just for the record. I am very very into this challenge but yup. Yup. Yeah. It makes me a bit nervous. Yup.”

She did not actually want to talk about it so she gathered it up in her hand and licked the tip and that shut him up very fast. She couldn’t close her hand around the thickest part which was ridiculous. It was narrower at the base and the tip but it flared in the middle to a truly unmanageable girth. She wasn’t paying close attention to whether or not the blue was just skin tone or if it was really scales. If she thought about it too much, she’d get intimidated again. He was smooth as silk in her mouth and the slit at the top drooled a little bit with a salty sweet precum. He swore when she licked it up.

She pressed her head up into his nervous hovering hand like a cat who wanted to be pet. God she wanted him to pet her. He stroked her hair back from her face and she started to get used to the taste of him and the texture of him. Making peace with that flared shape was going to take awhile but maybe she could take it. Maybe.

“This,” she said giving his cock a little shake, “Is not going to fit inside me. But I think we should try.”

“We should try,” he said with a nod. “Come here. Let me touch you.”

One of the problems with being an impulsive lunatic was that sometimes Ani got herself into situations where she climbed up onto the lap of an ethereal half-dragon lightning god and then he looked at her like she was beautiful and then she pointed his massive dragon cock at her pussy and tried to take it. He closed his eyes and his mouth fell open and his hands hands tightened on her hips as she slid down. It was normal and then it was big and then she reached the point where it was just too thick. She also closed her eyes and for a moment, they sat there like that. Ani lifted herself up and then eased back down, a little further this time.

It was slow going until she got a sense of how much she could take and then she started to actually ride him. She bounced on his cock, up and down, making a bit of a show of it while his hands roamed all over her body, squeezing and exploring. She had good thighs from all the climbing and thieving and she kept up the bouncy show-off fuck for a little while but soon she wrapped her arms around his neck and settled in closer.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Just another dirty filthy human,” she said.

“I guess I like dirty filthy humans,” he said.

“I can you tell you do,” she said.

She shimmied her hips and she slid a little deeper onto his cock which stretched her out even more. The closer position let her cuddle up and kiss him but it also meant he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in. His cock slid deeper into her. She was very wet but that made her gasp. He kissed her and she tried to work her hips against the thickness stretching her open.

“Don’t stop,” he muttered and he kissed her harder.

Ani didn’t and the more she rut herself against the thick swell of his cock, the more of it slipped into her. He was all moaning and encouraging and happy little sounds as she kept going and it felt good. It stretched her out but it was a very good stretch and she was starting to get close to her orgasm so she kept chasing it. Kept trying to fuck her way deeper onto him.

When his cock slid home, it happened all at once. Ani arched and screamed in surprise as she slipped past the widest part of his cock and her cunt just took it in. The thickest swell of it was now buried inside her.

“Ani? Annette?” he sounded worried as he turned her to look at him and she burst into laughter.

“Guess it fits,” she said.

“You ok?”

She panted and squirmed a bit, trying to find a position where she could work with something that big lodged inside her. The base of his cock was narrower but that big thick flare left her feeling stuffed. She couldn’t quite bounce on it and ever shift now had that thick scaled ridge rubbing against her g-spot.

“I’m good. Kiss me,” she said. “Before I start running my mouth again.”

He laughed but he did as he was told and she kept her mouth pressed to his as she worked her hips hard against that ridge. The orgasm built up and she screamed a little as she pulled back, that thick bulb popping out of her with a wet sound as she had a squirting, shaking orgasm. Marhax grabbed her and wrapped her up in a hug as she shivered and laughed against his neck. He kissed her repeatedly.

“Ready?” he asked when she was breathing evenly again.

“Ready for what?” she muttered kissing his neck lazily.

“Ready to go again?”

“Again?”

“Oh you do get out of it after an orgasm, I thought you were joking about forgetting your name,” he said.

“You really want to go again?”

“I haven’t had an orgasm yet, I was hoping for one,” he said. “If you don’t mind.”

“Don’t get all gentlemanly on me when I’m like this, dragon boy,” she said giving one of his horns a little tug. “Yes, gracious sir, I do not fucking mind one bit. You earned it, you can come as many times as you want. My cunt is your cunt.”

“You’re the least romantic person in the world,” he said.

“When I say dirty filthy human, the dirty and filthy bits aren’t the human parts. I’m just dirty and filthy as my natural state.”

He kissed her with a sigh. “Why you? Why is it you?”

“Because I slapped your ass and followed you into the dark to offer you a fuck?”

“I like you.”

“Stupid decision,” she said. “Rookie mistake.”

He kissed her again and laid her out on his robe on the ground. She stretched, feeling very satisfied after that orgasm. He kissed her again.

“It wasn’t a mistake and it wasn’t stupid and I don’t regret it.”

Before she could parse too much of what he meant, he slid his cock back into her. He had to work it back in but he was insistent and she was still stretched out and very wet. That moment when the thickest part of him settled inside her knocked her head back again. This time, she was stretched out on her back and he had on the control. He lay over her, close, nose to nose and he kissed her mouth and her cheek and her neck.

He thrust and she gasped. He set up a slow and clumsy rhythm as he figured out where he wanted his knees and her legs. He fucked like a virgin but he took the little corrections well when Ani tilted her hips or gave his knee a tap to have him shift it.

“This your first time with a human.”

“Yeah,” he said pressing his face into her neck and kissing her pulse. “This is my first time with anybody.”

She startled a little bit at that but he’d learned her trick of kissing rather than talking. He pressed his mouth to hers and thrust a little faster and she forgot to be overwhelmed by the idea of being his first. She was too busy worrying at his bottom lip and tilting her hips up into these harder thrusts to worry about virginity or dragons.

She came for him again somewhere in there. He kept picking up speed and the steady thrusting and the pressure of that bulging ridge against her walls had her back arching and moaning into his ear as he held her tight. He did not stop this time and she panted and whined as he kept thrusting hard and fast into her. He was getting more desperate, chasing his own pleasure as hers overwhelmed her again. She clenched down hard on his cock as her orgasm shook through her and he stuttered her hips, pressing deeper.

“Please, Mar, please.”

“Stop?”

“Don’t you dare. Don’t dare. Don’t. Don’t stop,” she muttered.

“Please what?”

“Come for me? Fill me up. Please,” she said.

“You’re mine,” he muttered in a low voice.

He was very close to his orgasm and his voice rasped a little as he growled it out in her ear, fucking into her harder. His cock was hotter and thicker. That had to be her imagination but it sure felt hotter and bigger, it dragged against her walls on every thrust, the ridges more pronounced. If she wasn’t already multiple orgasms in, it probably would have hurt. As it was, it just made her more whine for more.

“You’re mine,” he rasped again.

“I’m yours,” she said. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m. Yeah. Yours. All yours.”

He growled again, deep and nowhere near human. His cock spasmed and he pressed it in. The narrower base was thicker and the entire thing felt huge as he jerked a few times, emptying himself into her. His seed was hot enough that she could feel it flooding her. The thickness of the cock spasmed and pushed in deeper. His hips stayed tight against her and his cock itself spasmed and shifted.

He swore against her neck. He was breathing hard, panting and shaky as he curled in tight. He was still buried inside her. Very thick and bigger than he had been. The base shrunk back normal as they caught their breath but the part inside stayed swollen and hard. The thick ridges did not retreat, he did not get soft.

“Didn’t know I could do that,” he said.

“What’d you do?”

“Knotted.”

“Ok, pretend I don’t know what that means?”

“Cock swells up, it keeps the cum inside and allows for repeated breeding attempts with the same mate,” he said like he was reciting from a textbook. “Honestly thought I was too human for it to happen. You ok?”

“I think so. Yeah. Sure. I’m good. I’m good. It’s hard to be upset after sex that good even if I seem to have something the size of a melon lodged in my vag. You know.”

“I don’t think it’s that big.”

“You can get pedantic when it’s stuffed in your vag. Don’t tell me you don’t have a vag. I don’t want to hear it. I have a ridgy dragon melon cock and what feels like a gallon of cum inside me.”

“You’re funny. Obnoxious but funny.”

Ani looked up at him. He was still buried to the hilt inside her and the endorphin rush of the orgasm was starting to recede enough for that to be uncomfortable. He was all smiles, teasing. Happy. The cold serious sorcerer was replaced by these bright eyes and toothy smile.

“You’re cute,” she echoed. “You’re a pedantic dork but cute.”

He nuzzled into her neck and lay there. One of his horns rested against her cheek and she reached up with one hand to play with them again. He let out a happy little sigh and settled in closer which shifted the knot inside her and made her gasp. He kissed her neck and reached out to clumsily pet her cheek. It really was hard to be upset after sex that good and someone who was quite so happy to be cuddled up against her.

“Next time-” Ani started.

“Next time? Marhax interrupted.

“Yeah, dumb ass, next time, there had better be a bed. Next time I do not want to be lying on the ground like this.”

“I like the sound of next time.”

She smiled. “Yeah me too.”

[shadsthequeenofthepotatopeople]

SW clone kinktober

Day 3: (not) following orders

Featuring Crosshair x reader

NSFW!!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59334451/chapters/151550800

You knew how much he hated it. And yet you couldn't resist any opportunity to rankle the stoic, abrasive sniper.

It was easy, so easy, and you knew exactly which buttons to press.

Crosshair stood in the doorway to the supply closet, his fists balled by his side. You could sense the waves of frustration rolling off of him, but you didn't need to turn away from the supply shelf to know that outwardly he gave nothing away.

"I said, put the data pad down."

His voice was almost warning, but not quite. Not yet.

"No."

He both loved and hated when you defied him. Which was why you did it. That, and the fact that the rewards for your insubordination were so worth it.

You went back to running through the inventory on your pad, suppressing a smirk.

"Put it down. Now."

You ignored him, instead pretending to be engrossed in the task at hand, despite the fact that your heart was racing double time.

"Girl."

There is was. The dangerous edge to his voice. The one you loved so much.

You finally turned to face him, laying the pad down on a shelf. His expression was neutral, and it was only the tightness around his eyes that gave away his emotions. You smiled innocently.

"Did you want something?"

He did, and you knew exactly what it was.

Crosshair's lips quirked into a sneer, and he plucked out the toothpick he'd been chewing and threw it to one side.

"You. On your knees. Now."

You feigned surprise, eyes wide and mouth slightly open.

"I'm not sure I understand."

You did. How could you not. This had become an almost weekly occurrence.

Crosshair's smirk widened. This was exactly what he wanted, and you damned well knew it.

"You're going to take my cock in your mouth," he replied crassly, eyes dancing with barely veiled excitement. "And you're going to love every inch of it."

You kept your expression neutral, knowing full well that the chase was part of the fun for both of you.

"Is that so?" you asked in a challenging tone.

Crosshair pushed himself away from the door frame against which he had been leaning and sealed the door shut.

"It is."

He slunk towards you, like a predator sizing up its prey. You met his eyes levelly, refusing to back down. Crosshair came to a halt just in front of you, towering above you in an intimidating manner. Up close, you could smell his aftershave mixed with the faintest hint of sweat. He'd obviously just come from the training range.

"On your knees."

It wasn't a request. It was an order. And one which you did not follow.

"No."

His smirk widened, and his amber eyes narrowed. He closed the gap between you, his body brushing against yours.

"Now."

You returned the look of mirth with one of your own.

"Make me."

That was what he had been waiting for. No sooner had the words left your lips, than Crosshad grabbed you by the back of the head. His lips crashed into yours and he kissed you ferociously, teeth nipping and tongue lapping. You reciprocated the passion, moving with him as you fervently battled for dominance.

Crosshair pulled back, his grip on you tightened, and he shoved you roughly to your knees.

"Do as you're told," he growled, though there was no real menace in his voice. This whole thing was a game, and you were always willing to play along.

"Why should I?"

Crosshair's nimble fingers began working on the catches of his armour as you craned your head to look up at him.

"Because I gave you an order. And you will follow it."

The codpiece hit the floor with a dull thud, and you allowed your gaze to dart lower to admire the bulge down the front of his blacks. You wanted him, there was no denying that, and he wanted you, but you would make him work for it.

"Will I?"

Crosshair grunted in response, his eyes pinned to yours as he liberated his manhood from its fabric prison. It was as hard as ever, the tip flushed a deep red that contrasted with the silver barbel erupting from the tip. The piercing had always fascinated you, not least of all because you found it somewhat intimidating, much like the man himself.

Much as you wanted it in your mouth, you didn't immediately oblige.

"Open wide," Crosshair said after a few seconds, fisting his cock and lazily stroking it.

Still, you did not comply.

"Or what?" you asked defiantly, eyes narrowing in a challenge.

Crosshair grinned sickeningly, his member twitching from the thrill of it all. You expected more demands from him, but instead, the man curled his fingers around the back of your neck and plunged your face forwards. You gasped from the shock, your nose brushing against the silver thatch of hair crowning his erection.

"Now, open wide."

You finally gave in.

Crosshair's cock tasted of flesh and salt, with the faintest tang of washing powder. You swallowed as much of him as you could, until the piercing brushed against the back of your throat. You almost gagged, but the man did not stay lodged there for long. He drew back, slamming into your open mouth, fucking your face hard. Tears streamed from your eyes, and you moved to grasp his hips tightly, not to slow his pace, but to ground yourself. Your own excitement was growing, but you knew how this little game worked. You'd get your just reward, but only after Crosshair had had his.

Again and again he bucked into you, fingers twining into your hair as he silently egged you on. His body quivered and a few drops of sweat rolled from his forehead to splash against your cheeks.

It didn't take long to take the man over the edge, and he climaxed with a muffled grunt, hands tightening vice like around you as he released his load at the back of your throat. You swallowed every drop, hungrily licking him clean as he pulled out from you.

A hand patted you on the head and you looked up to see Crosshair grinning lopsidedly down at you.

"See? Following orders isn't so hard."

[leaderpinhead]

Floyd - Noodling Around

Floyd grinned when he saw Shrimpy sitting at the table. The cafeteria ghosts were yakking again about something or other. Croc was bucked up to Sea Urchin on the other side of the table. Sea Turtle sat on the very edge of his seat, fidgeting with his glasses like Azul did when he was uncomfortable. Shrimpy just kept slurping up the soup Croc had served, her eyes darting between the two boys. 

Floyd ignored the ghost at his shoulder and sauntered over to Shrimpy. He grabbed the edge of her bowl and yanked it aside. The one he carried made a pleasant clink against the table when he dropped it. “Eat mine, Shrimpy.” 

Shrimpy blinked up at him. The spoon dangled from her mouth. He nudged the bowl closer, his grin widening. Shrimpy’s owlish gaze narrowed. “Wha’ ‘ou boo?” 

Floyd snickered at her muffled speech. “What? You don’t appreciate my ramen? I made it just for you~” 

The spoon slipped from Shrimpy’s mouth. She used the tip of the spoon to poke the vibrant green peppers and orange carrots he had added. The broth was a nice shade of bright red. “Are you trying to cheat? I’m not giving you a higher score just to avoid you poisoning me.” 

Floyd snickered. “I’m not poisoning you! Just give it a try~” 

Shrimpy continued poking everything that floated to the surface of the broth. Floyd felt a very subtle shift inside him the longer Shrimpy stalled. He opened his mouth to snap at her when she finally dipped her spoon into the bowl. She swirled the contents and gathered a nice mix of ingredients into one spoonful. Floyd’s good mood returned, and he grinned while watching Shrimpy bring the bite to her lips. 

“Wait!” The ghost that had been bugging him the whole lesson lurched towards the table. “You shouldn’t—!” 

Shrimpy shoved the whole spoonful into her mouth. She slowly chewed, her squinting eyes still watching Floyd. Floyd kept grinning, and his grin widened at the slow way her face shifted to unmistakable shock. The ghost whined. “I tried to warn you.” 

Shrimpy took another bite, this one bigger than the first. Floyd cackled when she noisily slurped up the noodles from the broth. The abundance of hot sauce he had added stained her lips a bright red. “I knew you’d like it! Jade said you were totally bored taste testing all the other dishes.” 

“Mmph no’,” Shrimpy argued with her mouth full. She swallowed and stirred the ramen. Her nose wrinkled. “Most of it’s just been a little...bland.” 

Floyd snickered. “Poor Shrimpy. Ya got some weird taste buds. It’s fun to cook for you.” 

Shrimpy glowered at him, but that didn’t stop her from eating the rest of the dish. The ghost hovering beside him sighed. “I suppose I should be relieved you didn’t immediately keel over in pain. I thought I would have to use a fire extinguisher to cool off that dish after he added enough hot sauce and cayenne pepper to melt the pot. Though, now I'm a little worried by how you’re able to eat a single bite...” 

“Floyd!” Croc’s shout overshadowed the ghost’s concerns. “How dare you interrupt my judging! Take your assignment back to the kitchen and wait your turn!” 

Floyd rolled his eyes. “Chill, Croc. It’s not my fault Shrimpy likes my ramen more.” 

Croc sputtered. Sea Turtle coughed into his fist. Sea Urchin glared at them both, his tail all poofy as it angrily swished behind him. 

Still chewing, Shrimpy shuffled through the scoring plaques. She held the 10 high into the air. Sea Turtle coughed into his fist again. “Uh, Yuu? We still haven’t scored Sebek’s dish.” 

Shrimpy grunted and lowered the plaque. She shuffled through the numbers again and raised a 3 into the air. Croc’s indignant sputtering made Floyd loudly cackle. 

[airplanned]

WIP Wednesday

My motivation has been in the gutter for a long while now. So I have made the decision that for the rest of the year, I'm only going to work on what I want to work on, when I feel motivated to do so.

With that in mind, here's the start of a One Piece one shot!

1.

Luffy has taken jumping onto people. 

Nami and Usopp can't take his weight (which honestly isn't that much, and some push ups wouldn't hurt either of them), and they tend to squawk on impact, their knees nearly buckling as they stumble to right themselves. Nami will shove him off until he's just hugging around her neck, and then she leaves him to rub his head against hers like a cat while she continues with whatever she was doing. Usopp will laugh when he recovers from his surprise and hook his arms under Luffy's legs and try to shift the weight with several hopping hefts until it's more comfortable. It never gets comfortable, and it never lasts long before Usopp sets him down.

Luffy will shout Zoro's name and leap from the rigging and land on Zoro's back, and (unlike Usopp) Zoro won't shriek and crumple to his knees.  Instead, he'll carry his captain around like a backpack until Luffy finds something better to do.  Again, Luffy's not heavy, and Zoro can still go about his business without any problems unless one of the arms wrapped around his head slips down to cover his eyes.  

Zoro's strong.  He isn't gonna complain and make people think his injuries are bothering him.  Because they aren't. (Fuck off.)

He's not going to tell Luffy he can't do something that's not hurting anybody and not bothering him.

Also Zoro's kind of curious how long Luffy will stay there.  How long he can carry him.  He kinda makes a game of it, seeing if Luffy can beat his previous record.  One day he carries Luffy around the whole afternoon, then when it's dinner time, the waiter snipes them like he's somebody's mom that they can't sit down to a meal like that.

"We can do what we want," Zoro says, kicking his chair around to sit in it backwards at the table.

"Yeah, we're pirates!" Luffy says, stretching out an arm to grab his plate from the table and hold it over Zoro's shoulder.  "I bet we can do this all day!  A whole twenty-four hours!  Right, Zoro?"

Zoro raises that bet to "Thirty-six," and holds up a fist.  Luffy knocks his own fist against it in agreement.

The waiter's face does that thing.  That twitchy thing where it looks like behind his eyes, he's gotten so confused that something's short circuited and he's reset back to his base state of stupid bemusement.  "He's...going to get crumbs in your hair?"

Luffy's wet and noisy chewing very close to Zoro's ear goes suspiciously silent.  A hand brushes at the back of his head.

So, okay, yeah, that's a good point.  But it's a point the waiter has made.  So Zoro glares at him and snaps, "My hair's none of your business."

Before the waiter can reply, Nami lets out a disgusted, "Ugh."

That's the most he and Nami have spoken to each other today.  Zoro's aware enough to know that things between him and Nami have been strained ever since she'd left and then came back and everyone else was acting like it's all water under the bridge.  Zoro's not.  A mistrust has settled in.  Under his skin.  Something that he can see turning into a grudge if he lets it fester long enough, but also he doesn't see himself doing anything to stop it from festering.

It's annoying.  Because he...well, he doesn't miss her, because she's right there and also he's low level ticked at her.  It's annoying.  Because she left.

Across the table, Usopp leans forward and narrows his eyes down to slits.  Slowly, he asks.  "How will you take a piss?"

The rest of the table goes very still.

Except for Luffy who answers with his mouth full, "Don't worry about it."

Everyone remains very still.

Yeah.  No. 

Zoro stands up and shrugs his captain off his back. 

"Awww!"

Turning his chair back around, he reclaims his seat.

"Thank you, Usopp, for that bit of rationality," the waiter says, passing around drinks (which are water of all fucking things) and sitting down himself, flipping his napkin across his lap with a flair. 

Pointing a finger at Usopp, Luffy informs him, "You're a bad pirate."  Then he swivels in his seat to turn the accusation onto Zoro.  "You too."  He pokes Zoro twice in the cheek.

"Yeah, yeah," Zoro says, piling food onto his plate.