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aheckinmess · 3 days ago

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Redamancy: A Mighty Valentine's Day

Part of @prominencesmashers Valentine's gift exchange! @actuallysaiyan was my valentine! I hope it fills your heart with so much joy!

Read on AO3.

Tags: Toshinori Yagi, All Might, Smol Might, Small Might, Reader, All Might-centric, Fluff, A Little Angst, And Everything in Between!, Nemuri Kayama Mentioned, Shouta Aizawa, Eraserhead, Hizashi Yamada, Present Mic, Thirteen Mentioned, All Might x Reader, Present Mic x Thirteen, The Three Dumbigos Included, Toshinori is Bad at Feelings, 5 + 1 fic, The five times Toshinori tried to confess his feelings to you, + the 1 time he succeeded, Gift Fic, Prominence Smash Valentine's Day

Word Count: 4,200 words

Summary: Valentine's Day is right around the corner, and Toshinori wants to admit his feelings for you before it's too late! Though he's got the spirit, he'll quickly learn that life knows how to throw some unexpected curveballs. Does that stop the Symbol of Peace? Absolutely not. OR The 5 times Toshinori tries to confess his feelings to you, and the one time he succeeds.

Author's Note: I've given the reader the name "Yin" (for, Your Name) and "Lyn" (for, Last Name) because I think it looks better than writing "Y/N," "L/N," "Name," or any other alternatives.

Attempt No. 1

All Might can do anything.

No matter how dire the situation, no matter how impossible the odds, no matter how strong his opponent, All Might perseveres and always comes out on top with a mighty fist raised high.

Toshinori, on the other hand, is beside himself trying to wrangle the tangled knot of feelings in his chest. Valentine’s Day is right around the corner and he’s determined to ask you out before Snipe tries pulling out his rugged cowboy charms on you.

Considering he has zero experience with women and little to go off of aside from Midnight’s salacious soliloquies, he opts for a more classical option: flowers – which is why he’s currently thumbing through a bouquet catalogue with the local florist.

“And you said this one will be sure to catch her attention?” He points in the catalogue at a colorful arrangement themed with red, white, and pink flowers.

“Oh, certainly!” The lady beams as she ties a bow around the stems of another bundle. “She’ll know what you’re trying to say for sure. This bouquet is well known in this area as the Matchmaker.”

“It is? Perfect! I’ll take these then.”

. . . . .

Toshinori sets up a time for the two of you to meet in the park as the venue for his timely confession. The wait for the bouquet isn’t bad, but actually having it in his hands prompts the Symbol of Peace to start pacing. Over and over he runs through what he’ll say, fumbling over his words even as he mutters them to himself. After a few moments, however, he’s worried he’ll ruin the bouquet and takes deep, cleansing breaths to center himself and pause.

Just be honest, like Aizawa said.

By the time he makes it to the meeting place in the park, he’s at his wit’s end. Facing villains suddenly seems much easier than this.

“Hello, my dear.” He plasters on a smile as his hands shake around the bundle of flowers behind his back. “I’m glad we could meet today.”

“Toshinori! I’m glad, too! It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper hang out.” The way your face lights up erases every single thought and essay he’d prepared this morning and the night prior. “What’s that you’ve got behind you? Is it a present for me?”

“Yes! W-Well, it’s nothing much. Just–”

BOOM!

An explosion rattles the ground beneath you both and screams in the distance send All Might on autopilot. If only he could think to hand you the damn bouquet in the meantime.

But no. Instead, his fist tightens around it as he turns to you with frantic, blue eyes.

“Don’t move! Stay safe right here and I’ll go check it out!” He instructs.

The flowers disintegrate the moment he zooms in the direction of the blast, two blocks over. With a growl, he leaves them crumpled in the nearest blue bin as he sets his sights on the large bank robber sporting a hockey mask and massive paws.

“You look like you could use a full serving of justice !” All Might laughs, whizzing over to the bank thief in record time, hoisting him up by the collar.

“A-All Might?! What are you doing in this district?!” The man squirms in the No. 1 hero’s grasp.

“My ears are always alert to the sound of villainy, no matter the distance!”

The bank robber is quickly subdued, as well as his lackeys trickling out of the bank behind him. By the time the cops arrive, a large group of grateful bank tellers and gawking civilians gather to watch their Symbol of Peace usher the culprits into the back of a police cruiser.

“Your finances are secure now…because I am here !” He grins wide while sporting a thumbs up.

When the cameras begin flashing, All Might knows he has to make a quick escape if he wants to conserve energy. “Thank you all for your continued support!”

In a flurry of wind, he jumps up to find the park again and stares at his empty palm. Damn. So much for the bouquet. His eyes land on the park and he drifts closer to the ground when another scream fills his ears.

“HELP!” A voice shrieks another block over. “Somebody help me!”

Adjusting his course, All Might lands behind the offender, eyes glistening with determination and exuding a blue aura of menace as his feet stomp against the asphalt.

“Taking what doesn’t belong to you, hm? Looks like someone failed to teach you boundaries!” All Might’s dark smile paralyzes the fiend holding a stolen purse.

“All Might!” The victim chokes on a sob. “Thank you, oh, thank you!”

“Have no fear, ma’am. For I am here !”

. . . . .

One hour turned to two until All Might’s watch flashes 12:00. He groans when he makes it back to the park and sees you’ve already left. To top things off, he’s used all but one hour of his energy, so he finds an alleyway to transform back to normal in a puff of steam. Shit.

He opts to walk home, having nothing else on the docket for the day and needing a much needed nap. On his way, he pulls out his cellphone.

I’m so sorry, Yin. Can we reschedule another meeting time and place? He sends the message all while kicking himself for the missed opportunity.

But what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t just leave others in harm’s way for a date. What might have happened if I hadn’t intervened? His mind wanders and worries until your text tone jingles in his ear.

Of course! I understand, Toshi. I had a meeting at noon, or I would have kept waiting for you. So don’t worry!

Toshinori sighs, both reassured and deflated at the sight of your message.

I’ll just have to set up another meeting and try to tell her again.

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Attempt No. 2

“You’re trying to confess to Lyn?” Hizashi doesn’t know ‘quiet.’ He simply can’t help himself as he walks with Toshinori to the nearest arcade and whoops, “My MAAANN!”

“Shh! She’ll hear you!” Toshinori hisses, eying the arcade and feeling his ears ring. “Is there a subtle way I can let her know how I feel?”

“You’re talking to the King of Courting himself, Mr. Yagi!” Hizashi laughs. “But in all seriousness, it’s all about being honest and poetic. Her eyes aren’t just beautiful, they’re…” Hizashi gestures for Toshinori to complete the phrase.

“...exquisite?” Toshinori rubs the back of his neck.

“No! Well, yes, but you’ve gotta dig deep, man! Her eyes aren’t just beautiful, they sparkle like a million stars! Her smile isn’t just radiant, it…”

“...puts the sun to shame?”

“Now you’re getting it!” Hizashi exclaims as they step into the glowing arcade. “Good luck, good buddy! Just speak from the heart.”

With a clap on Toshinori’s shoulder, Hizashi disappears towards a group that is unmistakably Aizawa, Kayama, and Shirakumo. Now, Toshinori is left to find you himself, so he takes a deep breath as his eyes skim the many different game systems while brainstorming different compliments to give you.

As soon as his eyes find you, however, all flirtatious comments vaporize from his mind. Not one coherent thought remains when you turn to him with a wide grin sporting an All Might dress completed with white leggings.

Ten silent seconds pass by, and then your cheeks turn rosy while he stands ogling like an oaf.

“I’m sorry. Is this too weird to you? I almost talked myself out of wearing it. I figured it was too weird or fangirly, but I’d been hoping it seemed more appreciative…”

“No, no! You look amazing! It looks better on you than it does on me!” Toshinori blurts, his own face exploding in shades of red. “N-Not that I’d wear that…I meant my colors…or um, ah. I-I just didn’t expect it to look so perfect on you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous now.” You snicker, finding him endearing. “Come on. Let’s go see if anyone has beaten our high score on Galaga.”

The bells and whistles of pinball machines mingle with speaker sounds of gunfire, space blasters, and racecars screeching around a pixelated track. As it turns out, you reach Galaga and a new set of initials sits at the top of the leaderboard.

“Oh, no way! This means war!” You pretend to roll up your sleeves before pulling back your hair and grinning up at Toshinori. “We’ll reclaim the title!”

“With your spirit and determination? It is impossible to lose!”

. . . . .

You’re far too gracious, in Toshinori’s opinion, when you type his initials as the “New High Score!” icon flashes celebratory gold. Even though he urges you to take credit where it’s due – he didn’t even touch the console! – you dismiss him with a wave and nudge his shoulder.

“What’s important is that we have fun together.” You laugh, leaning your head on his arm and looking up at him with wide, dazzling eyes. “Don’t you agree?”

Toshinori can’t possibly refute it. Just your expression alone clasps his heart in an iron-grip. He knows in that moment he would do anything for you; you make Toshinori feel just as valuable as All Might.

Like he could do anything no matter how dire the situation, no matter how impossible the odds, no matter how strong his opponent.

You make him feel like living .

This is the moment. He’s sure of it.

“Yin,” He begins, clearing his throat. “Do you think maybe we could–”

“Oh my gosh, Yin! Hey!” A girlish voice screeches and suddenly he’s torn apart from you.

The moment fades as a sinking feeling is ushered into his gut. Of course, he delights in seeing you so happy reuniting with some old friends, but he can’t help but believe he’s missed his chance. One glance around the arcade shows him an entire dating pool entirely in your league and out of his. Could you possibly even want him?

“Toshi?” Your voice breaks through his spiraling internal monologue.

“Hm?”

“You don’t mind if I hang out with them for a bit, right? You can tag along if you’d like. It’s just been so long since I’ve seen them.” You reach across and squeeze his hand.

“You go have fun.” He chuckles, taking your hand and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I have matters to attend to anyway, so it all works out. Be safe, wherever you decide to go.”

“Thank you.” You surprise him by rushing into his side for a swift hug. He can only stand there, semi-startled as he blinks and you pull back. “Text me if you need anything.”

“Likewise.”

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Attempt No. 3

When you invite Toshinori out for a picnic three days later, he’s determined to suppress his feelings after two bitter failures. Or perhaps just letting his emotions bubble up to the surface naturally will yield better results than his previous two attempts?

That doesn’t mean Toshinori slacks in putting together his appearance, however. Normally wily locks of blonde hair have been tamed flat against his temple, complimented by a silky yellow button-up that accentuates his lanky frame. Pressed brown trousers lead into sleek dark loafers.

With one final look in the mirror and a glance at his watch, Toshinori hops up and down a few times to hype himself up before grabbing his phone, his keys, and starting a brisk jog to the beach. Come on. You’re the Symbol of Peace! You can have a cordial picnic with the woman you secretly adore.

Your blanket and large beach umbrella is impossible to miss on the searing sand. You’ve set up a dark wicker basket on a plaid blanket as you lay back in a lounge chair to soak up the sun. When you hear Toshinori approach, you crack open an eyelid with a shit-eating grin.

“Toshinori, you will never guess what I learned yesterday.”

Something about the way you’re looking at him prompts him to loosen another button on his shirt – or maybe he’s just winded from the jog over.

“What’s that?”

You pull out a folder and open it, revealing a weathered news article with a picture of All Might face-planting into the streets of Shibuya. Immediately, Toshinori grimaces at the memory and turns to look at the ocean instead.

With a hefty sigh he grunts, “Okay, you’ve got your blackmail, what do you want?”

Laughter bubbles from your chest and you fall back against the lounge chair, pulling your sun hat over your face to muffle the snorting that follows.

“I don’t want anything!” You cackle. “I just thought it was funny! You’re always portrayed as this big hero who never misses a beat, never trips over his own feet; it’s nice to appreciate your humanity every now and then. I think it’s endearing. It makes you more approachable.”

“I’m not sure eating pavement would qualify as approachable.” Toshinori scoffs, taking a bite of strawberry as you both enjoy each other’s company.

“You don’t know that. Maybe someone with a really weird quirk out there has this very news clipping taped up in their room!” You taunt, ruffling his neat and tidy hair.

“Hey!”

“What? It’s too flat. I prefer it more when it’s a fluffy mess.” You shrug.

“I…wait, really?” He pats his hair and combs four large fingers through the wispy strands. “I didn’t know. I thought maybe I’d try to tame it since we were having a nice picnic – it seemed a formal enough occasion to me.”

“Toshi, I’ve seen you hold press conferences with a messier style.”

“Yes, but…I don’t know! I just wanted to see if maybe you’d like it better flattened down.” He grants you a smile. “But I’m glad you like it messy. It was starting to get suffocating.”

“No need to act out of your comfort zone for my sake.” You giggle, setting your chin on your palm as you smirk at him. “Though I’m flattered you did all of that for me.”

Toshinori meets your eyes and he wonders if he should seize this opportunity. This time, he just manages to open up his mouth when a gust of wind sends your hat flying across the beach and soaring towards the crashing waves.

“Ah! My hat!” You lurch up to run after it with Toshinori quickly taking point beside you.

Sand showers between the two of you as the hat glides and flutters on a different course every few seconds, always a fingertip away from your grasp. Toshinori nearly secures the prize when he trips and, in a fit of irony, lands face first in the sand.

He lifts his head, sputtering and spitting out grains of sand as you fall back, hat in hand, howling and holding your sides as you’re overcome with mirth. Once you calm down, belly still shaking with aftershocks of giggles, you help him blow out the remaining debris in his eyes.

“Thank you.” He exhales, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all while he dries his eyes on his shirt. “We speak of this to no one.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m keeping this experience all to myself.”

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Attempt No. 4

One week remains until Valentine’s, and Toshinori knows that if he wants to stand a chance in hell at getting heartfelt chocolates from you, he needs to step up his game. He’s tried flowers, he’s tried flirting, he’s tried a friendly outing on the beach, and now he’s got to resort back to basics again: dinner.

He follows the proper procedure, toeing the line between continued friendship and secret admirer as he holds your chair out for you and tells you how radiant you look this evening.

“You’re a lifesaver, Toshi. This week has been insane and I need a good meal.”

Once he pushes your seat in, you roll your neck around and allow your muscles to relax and settle. The way your shoulders slump and your face smooths out leaves no question in Toshinori’s mind that tonight is the right decision.

“I’m glad to be of assistance. You’ve been looking overworked.” He admits, sipping from his water glass before the waiter comes to take his order. “Is there anything specific that’s been weighing on you? I-If you feel comfortable sharing, of course.”

You don’t miss a beat.

“Ugh, it’s just the kids have been crazy , lately. I swear there’s a full moon on the horizon.” You lean forward on the table as you invest yourself in the conversation. “Most of them are starting to understand press conference etiquette and I can see their progress. It’s just, I think they know the break is coming up and it doesn’t help that I’m at my wit’s end and getting burnt out.”

Both of you pause as the waiter sets your orders in front of you. Toshinori waits for you to continue, except you’ve already dug into your meal. He chuckles when your eyes roll around in your head.

“I’m glad you like it. This place has udon that’s out of this world.”

“If I weren’t already so emotionally pent up, I would cry.” You admit between bites.

Enraptured by your every word – and thoroughly impressed with his food – Toshinori sits across from you for an agreeable meal, offering himself as your ranting soundboard since you seem to need the release. Once he’s paid after dessert, the two of you stroll arm in arm towards your apartment.

“I hope I didn’t steal the spotlight this evening.” Your hair curtains your blushing cheeks as you stare at your feet. “I didn’t intend to go on a whole tirade. You know you’re allowed to do the same thing with me, right?”

“Of course. My week has been amiable, and this week you needed me. So, I’m more than happy to be a safe place for you to fall.” He stretches a hand out to rest at your back, but clenches his fist as he thinks better of it and never makes contact. He stops outside your door while you fumble with your keys. “Have a good night, Yin. I,” adore everything about you “hope you rest well and feel refreshed in the morning.”

As your gazes finally meet, unspoken tension crackles in the air. You rock forward on your toes and part your lips. Toshinori’s lashes flutter and cranes his neck toward you. Then, you tuck under his arm and squeeze him in a hug instead.

“Thanks for everything, Toshinori. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

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Attempt No. 5

Empty cupboards and a scarcely filled fridge convince Toshinori to make a grocery trip after a fruitless search for eggs. The removal of the majority of his stomach might have shrunk his appetite, but didn’t erase it. He’s scouring the aisles when a flash of orange blossoms in his peripheral vision.

He lays eyes on a cute Valentine’s bear that he tosses into his basket without hesitation.

Hey, Yin! I was in town and figured I’d swing by, if that’s okay? I found something that made me think of you and I’d like to drop it off. Toshinori uses his white tee to clear the smudge from his screen as the grocery bags rattle on his arm.

Now free from the stuffy atmosphere in the store, he glides through the streets of Japan, bobbing and weaving through the clogged crowds in a race to reach your apartment. He’s just outside the door when your text tone chirps in his ear.

Hey, Toshi. I hate to tell you this, but I’m sick. Feel free to stop by if you’d like, but I don’t want you getting sick, too. Thank you so much for thinking of me!

Could this be it? His perfect chance to take care of you and demonstrate his affections, served up to him on a silver platter? Toshinori can hardly believe it, but he knocks on your door and steps inside anyway when you bid him to come in.

The pitiful display in front of him tugs at his heart, and he finds himself on autopilot when he sets down his grocery bags and strides over to press his palm to your forehead as you lay buried underneath a mountain of blankets on the sofa.

“You’re hot. Have you taken a fever reducer?” He chides, combing back a sweaty lock of hair.

“Yeah, just a minute ago.” You reassure him, caressing his hand while leaning into his palm. “Don’t stay long if you don’t have to, Toshi, I can take care of myself. I don’t want to make you sick.”

“Nonsense. I’ll be fine. I want to make sure you’re taken care of.” He tuts, shaking his head before remembering why he initially came in the first place. “Oh! That’s right, I’ve got something for you.”

He pulls out the orange bear with hearts sewn into his feet and a larger, matching heart tattooed into his tummy. The large golden text on his belly declares, “FUR-EVER YOURS.”

“Aww, Toshi! You didn’t have to do that.” You squeal, forgetting yourself for a moment and coughing so hard your chest aches. “Sorry about that. I love him. I’ll let you know what I name him when I’m coherent enough to give him a proper name.”

“I’m glad you like him!” Toshinori perks up, heading into your kitchen to search for tea-making equipment. “Would you like me to make you some tea for that cough?”

“That would be heavenly.”

You’re nearly fading when he returns with a steaming mug of ginger tea, complete with honey and lemon to help your, presumably, sore throat. Though your eyes fight to stay open, you have no problem taking the mug and setting it on the side table nearby.

“Thank you so much. I can’t stress enough how lucky I am to have you.” You sigh, readjusting your head against the pillows and succumbing to the heavy weight of your eyelids. “Lock the door behind you when you go, ‘kay?”

“I will.” He promises.

In another breath, you’re snoring, and since you appear fully submerged in your dreamland, he risks a kiss to your forehead before he leaves.

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Attempt No. 6

Over the course of the month, it’s become obvious to you that Toshinori is interested in you. Well, at least, you think so. The bashful comments, attempted gifts, and overall pleasant moods and outings you’ve shared within these two weeks guide you to one, daunting and exhilarating conclusion: your affection for Toshinori seems like a mutual one.

So, with the might of a thousand suns and the determination of an Olympic gold medalist, you pour all of your efforts into making him one of the best, and only, heartfelt chocolates you’ve ever made. You try the recipe not once, not twice, but three times to make sure they’re as delectable as possible.

By the time you make it to the staff room on Valentine’s Day, your stomach ties itself in knots as the limited number of females exchange their own chocolates. Recovery Girl has polite chocolate for everyone that’s wrapped in cute, pink little mesh bags. Thirteen offers some heartfelt chocolate to Present Mic with blushing cheeks over in the corner, while Midnight offers a small bag of cheese to Hound Dog.

“You giving Toshinori some heartfelt chocolate, Lyn?” Aizawa asks and scares the shit out of you in the process.

“I’m…gonna try.” You hope you sound more confident than you feel.

“Good for you.” It’s as much encouragement as you’ll get from the erasure hero. “For what it’s worth, I’m hoping I’ll get some from the librarian.”

“Oh, really? How sweet!” You beam, before turning to find Toshinori. “I’m going to go find–eep!”

The tall behemoth in question stands in front of you, blonde hair wily and fluffy as always. A plot twist you hadn’t expected? In his hands, he holds his own package of chocolates.

“Yin,” He greets you. “I know it’s not traditional for the guy to give chocolates until next month but…” He extends the small package of chocolates with shaky fingers. “I hope you’ll accept this as an expression of my affections.”

You accept the package and exchange it for your own, wrapped in his signature colors. He takes it and your smile illuminates the room so much it could be a new point of orbit.

“I have some for you too, Toshinori. I wanted to make sure they were perfect for you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for some time, but it never felt like the right time.” You confess, looking away.

His large hand comes under your chin to make you look at his luminous eyes, blue and twinkling in the light from the window.

“I guess the right time found us, then.” He laughs, glancing down at your lips and back up to your eyes. “May I?”

“Please.”

Your hand comes up to rest on his chest like it was always meant to be there. His thumb caresses your neck so tenderly, as though he’s done it a thousand times before. Electricity sparks between the two of you even before your lips ever touch, and the world falls away in a swirl of desire and unrestrained need.

In the quiet sanctuary of Toshinori’s cubicle, after immense effort and copious failed attempts, you both indulge in the shared reward of a final, successful confession.

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thehereticdiaries · 2 days ago

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Dead Man Walking: Chapter Seven

Summary: You and a few of the boys go on a run for more medical supplies. It doesn't go super well, leading to some arguments

Warnings: Violence, heated arguments

I'll probably be working on Pack Mentality's next chapter this weekend, then I wanna do more for Baby Fever and Protective Instincts

Also not proofread oops

As soon as you walked into the main room, Wooyoung and Jeongin latched on to you. The look of horror at what they saw at that camp sent a shiver down your spine. You easily caved and let them pull you to the floor. While Wooyoung rested his head on your tummy, Jeongin hid his face in the crook of your neck. You sighed sadly, using one hand to card through Wooyoung’s hair and the other to trace gentle circles on Jeongin’s bicep. Slowly, you felt them relax in your arms.

Hongjoong couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. This whole interaction between you and the boys stirred something in him, something that had a fire burning under his skin. A nudge on his shoulder forced him to look away. He turned to Chris, who gestured to some of the others with his chin. It would seem that Hongjoong wasn’t the only one with these feelings. Minho, Yeosang, and San stared at you with heated eyes. Almost as if they felt their leaders scrutinizing them, the three of them turned to Hongjoong and Chan. The latter slowly shifted his gaze from them, to you, to the hallway, then back to them. They understood the silent command, and all five of them filed out of the main room.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess, here,” San started once the door to the leaders’ office clicked shut. “This is about Y/N?”

“This is about the way we were all just staring at her,” Hongjoong clarified. They stood in a circle in the middle of the room.

“I take it we all feel the same?” Chris asked while crossing his arms. He didn’t look angry, though. Just curious.

“We do. And I can confidently say that Felix, Wooyoung, and Jisung do, too,” Yeosang confirmed for the younger boys. Minho raised a brow.

“I think we all agree on this,” Minho emphasized.

“So what do we do?” San’s question caused a wicked grin to spread on Hongjoong’s face.

“We share.”

The day you had been dreading couldn’t have come at a worse time. It was only three days since the recon mission and everyone was still way on edge. And no, it wasn’t your period.

“Why?! Why, why, why now?!” You complained while pacing your empty office. There was no getting around it. You trudged down to Chan and Hongjoong’s office. The door was closed, so you took a moment to bounce on the balls of your feet to hype yourself up. With one final deep breath, you knocked on the door, feeling like you’ve just signed your own death warrant. Okay, maybe you were being a little dramatic. Chan opened the door and his easy-going smile immediately dropped at your nervousness.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, prompting Hongjoong to poke his head into the doorway.

“So, funny story,” you laughed dryly, gaining an incredibly unimpressed face from Hongjoong. “I need to make a run,” you grimaced. The leaders shared a look before returning to you.

“Why, exactly, do we need to do a run?” Chris questioned further.

“Not just we. I need to do a run for more medical supplies.”

“Absolutely not,” Hongjoong denied. “Whatever you need, write it down and we’ll have some of the boys go get it.”

“Hongjoong,” you sighed, roughly running a hand through your hair. “I really, really don’t want to argue about this. I need to–”

“No,” Chris interrupted. “No way are we risking your safety like that.”

“But none of you know what to look for!” You argued, irritation clear in your voice. “Even if I wrote it down, would you even know what a pulse ox looks like? Tourniquets? Support splints?” Their silence was answer enough. Hongjoong narrowed his eyes at you.

“You’re not going alone.”

“No shit,” you scoffed. They glared down at you, making your spine straighten on instinct.

“Who do we send her with?” Chris turned to the younger leader.

“Changbin, obviously,” Hongjoong paused to think. “Along with Mingi and Yeosang.” They split up to find your new run group while you went down to the maintenance room to gather weapons and an empty backpack. San, who was sharpening the groups’ knives, stopped to watch you with furrowed brows.

“What are you doing?” He asked as you looped your holster onto your belt and tightened the strap of your sheath around your thigh.

“I’m making a run with–”

“You’re what?!” He shouted, startling you and making you flinch. You opted not to answer, instead mentally going over what you’d need to find. That was until San cupped your face between his hands, squishing your cheeks and forcing you to make eye contact. “Why are you going on a run?”

“I need more medical supplies. We’re running low on a bunch of stuff,” you explained. San opened his mouth to protest, but Chris and Yeosang entering the room cut him off.

“Hongjoong is getting Mingi and Changbin is coming down after he says bye to Hyunjin,” Chan informed you. “There’s a high school just under a kilometer away. The military converted the football field to an emergency medical center.”

“No fucking way.” San’s hands dropped from your cheeks so he could get in Chan’s face. “You’re sending her there? Last I saw, the place was overrun.”

“Jongho and Seungmin saw otherwise. There are still walkers, but not a crazy amount,” the eldest retorted, crossing his arms and cocking his head to the side.

“San, I’ll be fine,” you reassured him while stepping between him and Chris to diffuse the tension. San’s jaw clenched, but he held his tongue and backed off. Moments later, Hongjoong, Mingi, and Changbin filed into the room. The boys of your run group quickly gathered their supplies. Chris unlocked the heavy back door, pausing with his hand on the knob.

“Be safe,” he said while looking over the four of you. “Keep her safe.” He pulled open the door, and once you were outside, it shut with an ominous thud. Changbin took the lead and you made your way to the high school. The football field held three large, military-grade tents. It was surrounded by a temporary fence topped with barbed wire. From where you stood, you could see three walkers roaming around. And a gap in the fence. You poked Mingi and pointed to the gap. Silently, you shimmied through the fence and entered the first tent with no issues. You raided the many drawers and cabinets, tossing what you wanted into your backpack. Your bag was stuffed full after the first tent, and you went through the second tent in the same way using Yeosang’s backpack.

The third tent did not go well.

This tent was a communal area with a makeshift kitchen and rows of beds. Only the back quarter of the tent had medical equipment. The three boys wandered off to look for anything else that could be useful, leaving you to go through the small infirmary. None of you expected a walker to be locked in one of the cabinets.

As soon as you opened the door, it snarled and lunged at you. Its hands dug into your shoulders as you stumbled backwards, barely containing your scream. You tripped, landing roughly on your back with the walker on top of you. It snapped its teeth, desperately trying to tear into your flesh. Your arms strained with the effort of holding it back. A strangled whimper escaped your throat while tears burned at the back of your eyes. Right when your arms were about to give out, the butt of a shotgun hit the walker square on the temple, knocking it sideways.

Mingi pulled you to your feet, frantically checking for wounds with wide eyes while Changbin put down the walker. You panted heavily, digging your nails into Mingi’s biceps. Growls echoed outside the tent. Fuck.

“GO!” Yeosang shouted while sprinting toward you. Mingi passed you to Yeosang, grabbing your backpack from where it fell on the ground. The boys formed a triangle around you with Mingi and Changbin leading and Yeosang right behind you. The two older boys wielded normal weapons, a machete and a crowbar, but Changbin had a fucking war hammer. You didn’t have time to dwell on the odd weapon choice. Your group ran through the tent with at least a dozen walkers on your tail. You were closing in on the tent’s opening when another walker slammed into a shelf from outside the tent. The shelf swayed dangerously, but stayed upright. Its contents, however, came raining down.

“Shit!” Yeosang shoved a walker back then yanked you into his chest, covering your head with his shoulders as you hunched over. He grunted at the impact of random military equipment hitting his back. You were momentarily distracted by his biceps, because holy shit has he always been this jacked? Where has he been hiding all this muscle, what the fuck? Why did you want to bite his bicep? Wait, FUCK, now is not the time!!

“Come on, back to the fence!” Changbin yelled. You rushed to the gap, where Mingi ushered you through first. You didn’t stop running for several blocks, even after the wails and growls of the walkers faded away. You forced the group to stop as you doubled over, coughing and panting heavily.

“Are you okay?” Yeosang checked on you while rubbing between your shoulder blades.

“What the hell happened?” Mingi asked before you could respond.

“There was, fuck,” you paused to take several deep breaths. Changbin hovered nearby, scanning the area with his hammer slung across his shoulders. “A walker was in one of the cabinets. I didn’t even hear it in there.”

“Let’s just get home,” Changbin intervened when Mingi ground his teeth. “We can talk about it when we get back.” The four of you continued in a light jog, enveloped in a tense silence. Jongho had barely opened the door when San rushed forward, pulling you tightly to his chest. You let out a quiet ‘oof’ but didn’t protest as he shuffled backwards so everyone could get inside.

“We’ll bring the backpacks to your office,” Yeosang tapped your shoulder as he and Mingi disappeared down the hall. Once San reluctantly let you go, you were immediately wrapped in another hug, this time from Felix. Jisung hopped in, making it a group hug. You peeked around Felix’s shoulder, seeing Yunho and Seonghwa anxiously waiting a few feet away.

“Is there a line to hug me?” You certainly weren’t complaining, but the sudden affection was definitely confusing.

“Yes,” Seonghwa replied. “We played rock, paper, scissors to decide who goes first.”

“You guys are ridiculous,” your nose scrunched up as you giggled at their antics.

“Maybe, but it’s also my turn.” Yunho shooed away the younger boys, who groaned in protest. You squeaked in surprise as you were swept off your feet. Without thinking, you wrapped your legs around Yunho’s waist, effectively turning you into a koala. Yunho grinned, satisfied by your instinctive reaction, and used one hand to support under your thighs while the other cradled the back of your head.

“Y/N.” Your eyes widened at Hongjoong’s sharp tone. He marched through the door and right up to you, reaching up to rest his hand on your cheek. “Mingi said you were attacked, that you almost got bit.”

“What?!” Jisung yelled. Felix lightly smacked his shoulder then gestured for him to lower his volume. Jisung sighed before continuing in a calmer voice. “What happened?”

“I was going through the infirmary in the last tent and there was a walker in one of the cabinets. It knocked me down,” you shrugged. Your nonchalance had Yunho tightening his grip on you.

“You were alone?!” San glared at Changbin. “You left her alone?”

“We split up to search the communal area. We do it all the time, so–”

“Yeah, we do it,” San interrupted, pointing to himself. “She doesn’t.” He was now pointing at you. A sinking feeling gnawed at the pit of your stomach.

“I’m sorry, dude, but it would’ve been a waste of time for all of us to search the whole tent,” Changbin argued.

“Oh, you’re sorry? That’s–”

“Enough!” You shouted and wiggled out of Yunho’s hold. “If you’re gonna be mad at someone, then it should be me. I’m the one that suggested splitting up.”

“But still, any of the guys should have said no,” San insisted, wincing as he crossed his arms.

“Relax your arms, you’ll fuck up your shoulder,” you instructed. He faltered, but moved his hands to his pockets instead. Hongjoong stood behind you, squeezing your shoulder gently.

“I think it would be best if you didn’t go on any more runs,” he sighed with a shake of his head. Your nostrils flared in anger as you slapped the leader’s hand away. Everyone in the room jolted with shock.

“I am not made of fucking glass! All of you need to stop treating me like I’m gonna break at the first sign of trouble,” you scolded while glaring at each of them.

“But–”

“No! No ‘but’s, San. I survived this long and I will continue to survive, which includes everything that you guys do,” you scoffed, poking your tongue into your cheek. “I’m going to sort through my stuff. No one bother me unless someone is actively bleeding.”

“Y/N, wait.” You didn’t stick around to hear what Yunho had to say, storming down the hall and slamming your office door shut. The sound echoed throughout the building.

“Thanks, guys,” Seonghwa retorted sarcastically. “Your idiocy cost me my Y/N hug.”

“Seriously? That’s what you’re worried about?” Hongjoong sighed tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Anyone want to tell me why Y/N is pissed?” Chan questioned as he entered the maintenance room. “She wouldn’t talk to anyone.”

“San and Changbin started arguing and Hongjoong told her that she shouldn’t go on runs anymore,” Seonghwa explained. “She, rightfully, got angry because of them being so overprotective.”

“So you think it’s okay for her to risk her safety?” San raised an eyebrow at Seonghwa.

“We all risk our lives every time we leave this building. My guess is she thinks it’s unfair for everyone else to take that risk while she sits around in safety. She should be able to participate, right, Chan?” Seonghwa expected the group’s eldest to back him up. At his silence, Seonghwa turned to see Chan looking at the ground with a guilty expression.

“Well…”

“Oh, come on,” Seonghwa huffed. “You agree with them?”

“I don’t like the idea of letting her put herself in danger. I mean, walkers are bad enough, but now we also have Garrett’s men to deal with,” Chan admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Right, and I guess we should bundle her up in bubble wrap, too?” Seonghwa continued his snarky rant. “Or how about we hold her hand while she goes to the bathroom?”

“Okay, smartass,” Chris snapped. “Am I supposed to believe that you’re not worried?”

“I am. I’m terrified when any of us go out there,” Seonghwa’s voice softened considerably. “But I trust her, just like I trust all of you. We keep each other safe.” He shrugged, then raised his hands in surrender before disappearing down the hall.

“Um,” Felix spoke up for the first time since the arguments broke out. “I agree with Seonghwa. I think it’s a little silly to keep her cooped up in here.”

“God,” Chris growled. “I hate it so much, but ultimately she’s the one that decides what she does. And if that means going on runs, we’ll just have to be even more careful.”

“Give her time to cool off, but later on we need to apologize. Especially San, Hongjoong, and Changbin,” Yunho advised, shooting pointed looks to the three that caused your outburst.

“Fine,” San begrudgingly agreed with Hongjoong and Changbin nodding along.

“We’re all on edge. We need to do a better job communicating. This arguing can’t keep happening, it’ll kill us,” Yunho stated before he, Felix, and Jisung left the maintenance room. The four remaining members stood in a heavy, awkward silence for a bit until Chris cleared his throat, prompting them to disperse.

Permanent Taglist: @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98 @miniverse-zen @holly-here @corgilover20 @eastjonowhere @bookswillfindyouaway @cristy-101

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quinloki · 10 hours ago

Text

Valentine's Drive

Marco x fem!Reader

9,303 words

summary: Marco wants to do something special for Valentine's, and so he decides to take you with him on one of his longer country drives.

CW: bondage, dom/sub, reader calls Marco master, mean-ish Marco (he is trying to be nice), dildo, anal plug, bullet vibes, overstimulation, forced orgasms, edging, orgasm control, outdoor sex, temperature play, gag, risking being caught/seen, prep, anal sex, vaginal sex, close enough to proper procedures for safety and sanity - I didn't have to, but I did enjoy grounding it, begging, crying, mdni

TL;DR - I did not hold back, enjoy.

It was your first Valentine’s together. Neither you nor Marco put a lot of stock in the holiday itself, but he said it was a good excuse to have fun since you were both off from work that day. The night before you’d packed an overnight bag, and gone over to Marco’s townhouse. It was closer to his job, and unlike his family’s home, it wasn’t constantly packed to the gills with dozens of brothers.

You’d both taken it easy that evening. Marco had made an easy dinner and you’d snuggled on the couch for a few hours watching campy movies before going to bed.

One of the things that prompted the two of you to start dating was that you were both into kink and bdsm. Outside of a session he was sweet, tender, and attentive. During a session he was firm, controlling, even more attentive, and terribly, terribly mean. His sadistic streak matched your masochistic one almost perfectly.

The first time you begged him to go harder than he’d ever been able to go before he’d made you cum so many times he had to call off work for both of you and take care of you the next day. It was intense, but by that point you trusted him implicitly. He wasn’t afraid to push your limits, you weren’t afraid to communicate them, and spring, into summer, autumn, and now winter.

When you woke up on Valentine’s day, Marco brought you breakfast in bed. He sat and talked with you about light topics so comfortably you weren’t sure it wasn’t his plan to do so all day. Once you were done with breakfast he’d finally admitted to the scope of his plans for the day.

For the next hour or so he got you ready for what he had planned. Prep was clinical, and after having gone through it a few times with him, it was automatic for you. The first few times it had been terribly embarrassing, and Marco had even done it “in scene” to help ease you through it. It was, after all, much easier to obey than volunteer when someone wanted to give you enemas.

Adventurous as you both were, the dynamics of your relationship were dictated by a choker style necklace you both referred to as ‘the agreement’. The black band with it’s small silver bird was simple enough to go with pretty much anything, and understated enough to not be immediately obvious as a collar in public. Though, you did have a few of those.

Outside of a scene you were equals. Partners in crime. There was give and take, and compromise, and hard conversations. Everything that life had on offer.

Within a scene it was different. The agreement was that Marco was the authority, and the balance to his absolute authority was your ability to determine when you were in agreement or out of it. In a way, you had all the control, because it was your trust that conferred that authority over to him.

Clean inside and out, Marco dried you off, brushed your hair, kissed your skin, praised anything and everything about you he seemingly could, and pulled you into a hug while on his knees before you. His chin was between your breasts, his hands on your back, and the warm smile on his face was already making your body heat up.

“I feel like you’re trying to butter me up,” you admit with a smile, brushing his hair back before kissing his forehead.

“It’s going to be a long session, yoi. I just wanted to make sure you were in a good place before we even started.” He hums, kissing your tummy before looking back up at you. “I want to take you on one of my country drives.”

“Three hours along the back roads during winter? There won’t be many cows or horses out to pasture.”

“Nope, not too many other people either. The roads are clear, but most people don’t do the long drive unless it’s nice enough to roll the windows down, yoi.” He smiles, kissing between your breasts. “Though you might ask me to roll them down anyway.”

“What do you have planned, Ma~aster?” You sing the word, taking a step back.

Marco doesn’t let you get far, his hands pulling you back to him, turning you around so you’re facing the mirror while he talks. His hands are firm and almost rough against your skin. You’re both pushing the edges of a session without having officially started it yet.

“I’m going to stuff my sweet bird full of toys,” he begins, his middle finger slipping between your labia and teasing your folds. “Wrap her up in ropes, and let her wear a coat if she behaves, before I set her in my passenger seat and go on a nice long drive, yoi.”

You put your hands over your face, widening your stance to give his finger better access as the heat rolls through you.

“Oh that sounds wonderful,” you try to say the words with confidence, but the idea of it, and his finger are already making your voice shiver.

“Go put on the agreement, and sit pretty for me, and we’ll get started.” He says, pulling his hands away from you and swatting your ass gently.

You head off into the bedroom with a little more pep in your step than you think Marco needed to see, and pull the simple black choker from the box on your dresser. After getting it clasped into place you get down on your knees on the floor, setting them open with your feet together and tucked under your ass. Leaning back you put your hands on your heels.

The position put you almost fully on display. The only way you’d be more exposed would be if you laid on your back and pulled your ankles up to your shoulders. As Marco would say, something that revealing wasn’t for you to control, so of the different ways you could sit - proper, pretty, humble, or apologetic - that just wasn’t one of them.

Proper was similar to pretty, except your knees were kept together and you put your hands in your lap, instead of behind you. Humble was face down, ass up, with your hands on your ankles. It was uncomfortable if you stayed that way too long, and since it was usually a punishment you often stayed that way for long stretches of time while Marco did as he pleased.

Apologetic was a full and proper kowtow, and if you had time whatever you were wearing was folded neatly around you. You’d only done that one a couple times as practice.

After a couple minutes Marco comes into the room with a box. You can see the coiled rope peeking out over the side and press your lips together in anticipation.

“Good girl,” he hums and you feel your body throb. It wasn’t fair the effect he could have on you so easily. Setting the box neaby he crouches down in front of you. His hand at the back of your neck steadies you as he presses two fingers into your pussy.

Whining you rock into the action and help him get deeper. His thumb presses into your clit as his fingers scissor inside you. You were wet before he really even started, and it barely took a minute for him to make messy sounds with his fingers. You kept your hands on your heels, opening your mouth just before he pulls his fingers out of you.

“Look at you.” The smile on his face is dangerous. “Needy, but you’re trying so hard not to be greedy.” He pushes the wet fingers against your tongue and you clean them up happily. “Well, I suppose I could be… nice, for today.”

“Maybe.” He adds quietly, moving his fingers away and pulling you into a kiss. His wet hand teases your nipple while he dominates your mouth. You can barely keep yourself in place, moaning into the kiss, your body trembling from the attention. Even unbound you felt helpless when he did things like this. It was divine.

Leaning back, he holds you in place for a moment, giving you a chance to steady yourself before standing up.

“Up.” He commands, and you get yourself up onto shaky legs. Your knees are a little red from having knelt on the floor, but he didn’t leave you that way for long, so they’d clear up. “Put your hands on the bed and your ass in the air. I’m going to get the plug in first.”

You do as instructed, and Marco comes up behind you working lube into your ass before you have time to anticipate the action. It’s cold, and you gasp, but you don’t squirm away.

“You’re darling little pussy is dripping, so I’ll get the rope harness started before I stuff that hole, yoi.” He explains, working your ass open as you try to stay quiet. He is being nice, he’s not teasing you and edging you, he’s almost being clinical like he was with prep.

You weren’t entirely sure if that was a good sign or not, as yet.

“Alright, talk to me pretty bird, let me know if it hurts.” Marco pushes the tip of a plug into your ass, and you nod. It stretches, eases up, stretches more, eases up, and you realize he’s working the big, long, bubbly plug that wriggles and vibrates into your ass.

“Oh gods.” You murmur the words as it stretches again.

“Too much?”

Shaking your head you push back against the toy. “No, no, sorry sir. I just… realized what it was.”

“Ah.” Marco pushes it in a little faster, getting two bumps in at once and making you moan despite your efforts. “Thinking about it wriggling around for a two hour drive, hm?”

You nod as the last bump is pushed in and the flared flange rests against your ass cheeks. The full feeling was already a lot and you were just getting started.

“Alright, straighten up, put your feet apart wide enough I can reach for the ropes, yoi.” He commands.

You straighten up slowly, it always feels weird with the toy inside you, and put your feet a little more than shoulder-width apart. Marco works quickly and quietly. Sometimes when he ties you up the process of tying you up is the point, and he can easily spend nearly an hour or longer if he gets into really intricate work and poses. Today, however, the tying was functional, and not the main focus, and so he worked quickly.

He folds your arms under your breasts, tying them in place and checking to make sure the tension is right as he works. Even though he’s being efficient, he’s still so close, his breath breaking against your skin, the heat of his fingers trailing over you. It was hard not to get worked up.

Marco tugs on the ropes between your thighs, pulling them loose when he’s getting close to being done.

“Alright, now I can put this in and you won’t drop it a dozen times, yoi.” He teases, holding up a vibrator you’ve had inside you for nearly a full day before. Even with the plug it should be fine to use during the car ride without getting uncomfortable.

He gets it lined up, pushing it in slow and steady.

“You’re so wet it’s already dripping off the bottom.”

“Haaa, don’t… don’t say that, it’s -!!” Your shivering voice is cut short as he shoves it the rest of the way in. Letting out a shallow quavering breath you thank your own lucky stars you didn’t cum from that. One of the fastest ways to get punished was orgasming without permission. Something Marco definitely abused, and you happily let him.

“Mmm, a little less good girl, and a little more lucky bird.” He muses, putting the crotch ropes back into place and tightening the lines, keeping the plug and dildo neatly in place. You nod, your face goes red as he begins to tie your thighs together, just above your knees.

“Now we get you dressed enough you won’t freeze during the stops.”

“We’re… not staying in the car?”

Marco smiles his dangerous smile. “It’s going to be a long drive, you’ll need to stretch a couple times at least, pretty bird.”

That’s complete bullshit. Marco wrapped you up like a mummy and left you immobile for six hours one day. A couple hours in the car was going to be nothing, but you weren’t stupid enough to risk your “nice Marco” possibilities by asking bratty questions right now.

He got you into some thigh highs, pulling them up under the ropes and letting those hold them in place since you weren’t wearing a garter belt. He put thicker socks on over those, and boots on after that. You were a little worried he was going to just trot you outside and to the car in nothing but snow boots, but he only stopped dressing you because he “forgot” some of the accessories.

“These little guys can be taped here.” He hums, putting small bullet vibrators on either side of your nipples, taping two against each one. “And this one,” Marco pulls a larger, almost egg-sized, vibrator out and nestles it against your clit, letting the crotch rope from the harness hold it in place. The added size of the egg pulled the harness a little more snug, but not uncomfortably so.

You were certain Marco had made accommodations for the added mass while tying you up at the start of things.

He then puts your winter coat on you, draping it around your shoulders and buttoning it up. He put the sleeves in the pockets, and it almost looked like you had your hands in your pockets, and were wearing, possibly, a knee-length skirt. The interior of the coat was silk-lined and was cold against your skin for the moment, but it was already warming up.

Marco tilts your face up with just a finger under your chin, and you can feel the heat in your face.

“How’re you doing, pretty bird?”

“Gah-green, I’m…” You take a moment to collect yourself as the vibrators on your chest come to life. “Green!”

“I think you really like where this is going, yoi.”

Nodding slightly, you look away. It’s almost dizzying the blood rushing to your face. “Little nervous, but… I know I’ll be safe with you.”

“Good girl,” he praises quietly, leaning down and kissing you. This kiss is gentle, a soft pressure against your lips as the vibrators against your nipples stop. “Alright, let’s get you in the car. How well can you walk?”

You test your range of motion carefully, taking very tiny steps at first until you sort out how much range of motion you have. You smile sheepishly, and realize Marco’s doing his best not to laugh at you. Even at the best you look like you have to pee.

“Well, if someone asks, you took a fall and are worried about falling a second time, yoi.”

“If-.” You pause. It wasn’t that Marco was intentionally going to parade you around people, but you were going to be outside, and people were also outside. Better to have a story now. No one wants to deal with the police because some concerned, well-meaning, citizen worries your partner is abusing you. “That works.”

Smiling, he sticks his thumb out toward the garage. “Start waddling your way to the car, pretty bird, and I’ll get my coat and the remotes.”

“Yessir.” You almost grumble the words, holding back your tone as you carefully walk toward the garage. You get about halfway there before Marco scoops you up and over his shoulder. You moan as the movement makes the toys inside you shift, and his hand squeezes your ass in response.

He opens the car door and carefully sets you inside, watching to make sure that the toys inside you don’t poke anything uncomfortably as your position changes.

“Good?”

“Yeah, uh, mostly. Not back - eep!” You were explaining you weren’t back in the seat enough when Marco adjusted you.

“Better?”

“Y-yes,” you did appreciate his powers of observation, but sometimes you wished you could keep up. He checks a couple more things, making sure you’re settling in well, and then buckles you in.

Marco gets settled into the driver’s seat, checking on you one last time before he turns all the toys on low.

“Still good?”

Letting out a shaky breath you nod your head. Everything is wriggling or vibrating, but nothing is pinching or causing discomfort.

“Perfect. Ah, one more thing.” Marco pulls a gag out of his pocket. It’s about as thick as a standard ball gag, but it’s got three inches of length shaped like a dick. Just long enough to press against your tongue, just short enough to avoid risk of you gagging on it. After he gets it clipped into place he puts a single use flu-mask over it.

“There, now you’re all tucked in.” Starting the car he pulls out of the garage and onto the road. Once he gets rolling he puts his hand on your knee. You’re acutely aware of the heat of his hand, the texture of his palm against your skin, and the fact that his hand is sliding up.

It doesn’t take much to expose the ropes around your thighs, since they begin just above your knee. Objectively, you know no one can see into the car at that angle. Certainly not on most of the roads you’ll be on, since country roads are barely ever more than one lane on each side. But you can’t deny that your heart is beating faster.

For a few minutes he just leaves his hand there, rubbing your thigh, squeezing it reassuringly as he drives you both out of the city. The vibrators meander to the background of your mind, Marco’s hand occupying the forefront. When you stop at traffic lights he slides his hand up your thigh far enough to loop a finger through the crotch rope, tugging at it a little and watching you struggle to keep your composure with cars nearby.

You know no one is paying attention to you, but it feels like everyone knows. You’re sure the people next to you know you’ve got a gag in your mouth, that you have ropes against your skin. You’re certain some trucker will come along and realize you’re naked under your coat.

Once you clear the city and get onto the country roads, you realize that Marco’s hand was much safer on your thigh than not. When he moves it away the vibrators start to shift.

The little bullet vibes against your nipples get stronger and start fluttering in different patterns. More than the vibrations themselves it’s the way that the difference in patterns makes it feel random. It’s hard to know which side is going to do what, and that uncertainty makes the teasing even better.

“Mmfh,” you squeak against the gag, trying to stay quiet.

“We’ve barely gotten into the country and we’re already picking up my favorite radio station,” Marco hums. The bumpy plug in your ass starts to shift and you tense, moaning again. You’re grateful for the cloth mask, even more than hiding your gag from the passing traffic, it was helping to hide the expressions on your face.

“Almost there, just a couple more adjustments, yoi.” The dildo in your vagina vibrates on a low frequency and starts to shimmy slowly inside you. You’ve barely adjusted to the plug in your ass and before you can even settle with the dildo the egg against your clit hits a fever pitch.

The powerful vibrations against your soaking clit surprises you, and you nearly scream, moaning loudly against the gag. The strong vibrations retreat to a low setting, and Marco sets them to a rhythm different from the two settings teasing your chest. Whimpering, you shift in your seat, trying to get comfortable despite the sensations.

His hand’s back on your thigh, pushing your coat’s hem up and rubbing just above where the thigh high stockings stop. You’re not moaning, but the toys have you breathing heavy against the gag, the odd muffled sound breaking against the gag when something sends a shiver through you.

“There we go.” He hums, eyes on the road. “Be careful not to cum without permission, pretty bird.” Marco warns, rubbing your thigh. “Would be a shame if I took that mask off, or revoked your coat privileges.”

The threat goes straight to your core, and suddenly all the toys are bothering you even more than before. It was difficult to say if Marco’s threats were empty or not. You knew he wouldn’t get the two of you arrested, but he probably would risk an awkward conversation with police if people filed reports.

Every stop light or stop sign, Marco’s hand would leave your thigh and change the settings of one or more of the vibes. If you stopped struggling, he’d adjust the toys. If you managed to shift in a way that gave you relief from something he’d tug on the ropes and readjust how things were settled. He didn’t hurl you toward an orgasm without giving you permission, but he didn’t let you have a moment’s peace.

As mean as he could be, he was still possessive and careful. One of the traffic lights put you next to a big long-haul truck. They were rare on the country roads, but even farms needed large deliveries or pickups. The trucker’s elevated position could give him a view into the sedan, and Marco had pulled your coat back over the ropes on your thighs, and made sure the coat was snug around your neck.

Once the truck was gone he unbuttoned the top buttons of your coat, and put his hand between your thighs, pressing the egg vibrator into your clit.

“Mmmfffh! Mmpphh!” Marco had unbuttoned enough to expose the rope harness at your neck and chest, but nothing truly indecent. The sudden exposure and the pressure of the egg vibrator made your heart race after almost thirty minutes of edging. “-‘ease, eeeaaaase,” you whine the garbled word, desperate for either permission or mercy. Shifting in your seat you moan and whine, letting the broken begging words out as Marco made no move to give you permission, or to show you mercy.

By the time he eases up on the vibe the lack of tension is almost worse. The vibrator is tickling your throbbing clit and you’re nearly in tears trying not to cum. Without his hand on your thigh you can adjust a little bit more and find some relief before you can’t take it anymore, but your body is on edge.

“We’re at the first stop.” He announces, pulling into a small park. The parking area is plowed, but between the empty lot and pristine snow it’s obvious no one else is there.

After parking and turning off the toys, he comes over and gets you out of the car. Standing you near it he has you move and stretch, helping you bend back and just having you stomp your feet. He checks that nothing’s going numb, the ropes aren’t biting anywhere, and once he’s sure you’re okay he picks you up princess style.

If anyone else were around you’d be worried about how the position has your privates almost on display, but you feel like Marco would keep you from being spotted even if the place was practically packed. He kisses your forehead as he carries you through the snow. It’s barely two or three inches, just enough to make a soft crunch and leave footprints with each step.

When he gets to a picnic bench he sweeps the snow off and sets you on it. Your coat is keeping you from sitting directly on the frozen wood, but you can feel the cold starting to creep in.

“I bet the reception here is perfect.” Marco hums, looking down at you as the vibes on your nipples whir back to life. “Don’t you think so, little radio?” He questions, the egg against your clit starting to shiver harder and harder. You moan softly, the break you got was enough that you’re not at the edge anymore, but you’re still riled up.

The vibes in your ass and pussy come to life, and the vibrations are loud - or louder than they were in the car. They’re vibrating against the wooden picnic table and it sounds louder than you expected. You look up at Marco in concern but he just turns them up. It only takes him a moment to have everything going. Different patterns for the ones on your chest, the dildos making a racket against the table are squirming inside you on top of vibrating, and the one at your clit is going as hard as it can.

“Sing well, little bird,” he commands, unbuttoning another button on your coat. You’re moaning and whining, squirming as he does as he pleases. Despite the cold you’re warm, the blood rushing through you at all the stimulation. “There you go.”

Marco’s eyes linger on you, but you see him looking around as well, ensuring you’re as alone as you thought you were. He unzips his pants, and starts palming his erect cock. Every minute or so he unbuttons another button on your coat, working himself up and reminding you not to cum without permission.

You aren’t sure which is more embarrassing, your own moans that are getting louder and more desperate as your body starts to tense, or the sounds of the vibrators beating against the picnic table. It felt like everyone in the county knew what you were doing.

Undoing the rest of your coat buttons he opens it wide, and you squeak, shaking your head. He takes the cloth mask off and pulls the gag out of your mouth, leaving the saliva-slicked device against your neck. Grabbing the back of your head he pulls you close, almost kissing you, but not quite.

“Please, Master-.”

“Color,” he husks, his own voice coming out in a breathy command.

“Green-yellow, green,” you say, moaning as the toys make your body shiver.

“You can cum after I cum on you.” Marco instructs, kissing you deeply for a second. Leaning back he looks into your eyes. “Don’t you dare stifle your song, pretty bird.”

You nod, eyes transfixed on the leaky tip he’s pumping with his hand. You wanted it inside you. Your mouth, your ass, your pussy, you didn’t care. You were hungry for him, and it was terribly cruel of him to show you what you wanted and not even let you touch him.

“Please, please,” you beg, you can feel yourself getting close, but you’re not even begging for your own release. “Cum on me, please, sir, please.”

“You want me to mark you, pretty bird?”

“Yes, please, cover me, master, please.” You beg, your mouth open, your tongue out. He’s not even going to finish on your face, but you can’t help yourself. The toys are hazing your mind, your own orgasm drawing near and you need more of him.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, hot spend splashing on your chest and stomach. Milking himself he cums on you as much as he can, and then grabs the coat, pulling it down and leaving you exposed before he grabs the back of your head and presses the egg into your clit.

“Cum.” He commands. “Sing for me right now little snow bird.” He growls the command, kissing your neck and holding you still as the orgasm races toward its peak.

Your body shivers against the rush of pleasure far more than the brisk cold. The vibrators against your nipples are almost biting against the stiff flesh, the vibrators buried inside you are sloshing wetly from your arousal, battering against one another and competing with the egg that pushes you quickly over the edge. Marco holds your head back so you can’t bury your lips into his shoulder, forcing you to wail your whorish moans out into the air.

You couldn’t hold them back if you wanted to, and you didn’t want to. You wanted to sing for him like he commanded. The keening cries turns into desperate shivering gasps, the sweet rush of release chased relentlessly by the manic toys beating against your body. Marco nearly pushes you into a second orgasm, bringing the vibrations down slowly as he watches your trembling body carefully.

“Much more and you’ll cry, yoi.” He hums, turning each toy off before pulling the coat back up and buttoning it in place. “Can’t do that on the first stop.”

“Haaa, that’s… this is… fuck.” You gasp, your voice shivering from the adrenaline. A nervous laugh dots your broken words and you smile at Marco before he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.

“We’re just getting started.” He promises you. “Hang in there, sweet little bird.”

You nod, and he picks you up, carrying you back to the car. Once he gets you settled into your seat he puts the gag back in place, and the cloth mask over that. After he buckles you in he turns all the toys back on and turns them up to full. The brief break was enough to take the edge off of the earlier almost-overstimulation, but that’s kind of the problem.

Your whole body is tingling and there’s no rhythm or break. You want to ride the dildos inside you and cum, just to get it over with, because the vibrations are keeping you wound so tightly, but as Marco gets in the driver’s seat and puts the car back on the road, he doesn’t turn the vibrators down.

Moaning and panting through the gag, you wiggle and squirm and beg and plead as best you can for him to turn something down, anything. You’re going to cum and you’re not going to be able to stop it, but all he does is tap the tip of your nose and remind you not to cum without permission.

“Ah don’ ‘anna ‘um!” You beg, throwing your head back and trying to shake off the building pleasure.

“Then don’t cum.” Marco says easily, and you growl in frustration. You catch the smirk on his lips and whimper. “If you can make it to the next stop you’ll be rewarded.” He says.

“Ow ‘ong?” You ask, trying to shift enough to at least get the damn egg off your clit. The rest can almost be relaxing, especially since there’s no random pulses from the vibes teasing your nipples.

“Mmm, about twenty minutes.”

“’ENTY ‘INUTES?!” You weren’t expecting him to pull into the next empty lot, but that was a lot longer than you thought you could last.

“Well, now it’s forty. Want to complain more?” His face is smiling, but his tone is warning. You don’t play the brat with Marco much at all. Every once in a blue moon you like to push back, but more than anything you love to just fold in his hands, whatever shape it is he’s going to put you into.

“… ‘orry.”

His hand is on your thigh. “Hang in there, yoi.” Marco hums the words reassuringly, but his hand’s off your thigh within a couple minutes and all four of the bullet vibes against your nipples are set to different patterns. Even worse than the first time.

You try not to growl at the new predicament, but you can’t suppress the strained whimper. On top of all the sensations, his cum is drying on your skin, itching and catching against the cool smooth silky interior of the coat. It’s a new sensation on top of everything else and the more there is the less you can defend against.

Fifteen minutes and you’re doing good - or were. There’s a new problem.

Stopped at the train tracks there’s a long shipping train going by. It’s been a good two minutes already and there’s no end in sight.

“Just not your lucky day, is it, pretty bird?” Marco questions, and the rest of the vibrators start to writhe and shiver in patterns. Whimpering you try to shake the building pleasure away, but his hand on your thigh is limiting your motion, and pressing the egg into your clit more than the ropes do by themselves.

“Ease ‘emme ‘um!” You beg, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. He’s watching the train as you thrash in the seat, completely unconcerned with the car behind you. “’Eeeeeaaase!”

“It’s not a matter of permission,” Marco says, turning to look at you. He wipes the tear out of the corner of your eye and gives you an apologetic look. “You have to make it to the next stop, pretty bird.”

“Ah, but this might be prudent.” He reaches over, taking the gag out, and pulling the mask back up over your nose. “This way if you need to call out a color it won’t get lost in the gag.”

“Please, Marco, please I’m gonna - I’m not going to be able to hold it back! Mercy!”

“Using my name, pretty bird?” He says icily.

“Master! Master, I’m sorry, please, I’m - shit, shit, I’m not going to be able to! It’s too much!” You whine, trying to wriggle away from his hand on your thigh, but it’s no use. You can’t leave the car in the first place, even if you weren’t tied up, Marco’s hand would be able to reach whatever it wanted.

“Maybe you’re overdue for a proper punishment.” He hums.

You don’t really hear him over your own struggle. “Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna - I can’t!” Your body tenses and you shudder against the vibrators, cumming hard. Biting your lip you growl, squirming inside your ropes as the orgasm you fought against claws through your body.

“Sorry,” you gasp, panting heavily as you start to come down from your high. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t - hnnngh! - please, I cah-can’t.”

“Shhh, shhh, you’re alright pretty bird. Just because you’re going to be punished doesn’t mean you’re doing bad.” He says soothingly, getting you to nod. “Hang in there, yoi.”

“Haa- yeah, I… please, the toys, Mar— Master, please, fuck!” You squirm, the relentless toys sending thrills into your sensitive skin harshly on the heels of the orgasm. At this rate you’re going to cum again.

“Oh, well, since you couldn’t hold it, now you get to cum until we get to the next stop. Over and over.” Marco puts the car into drive as the last car of the train passes by and the barriers lift, letting you continue on your way.

When he drives over the tracks your eyes roll back and you nearly orgasm again. You’re trying to desperately control your breathing so you’re not getting lost in too many orgasms, but it only takes five minutes for the next one to rock your world. Marco is relentless in keeping the egg against your clit, changing up the patterns and intensities as he drives, keeping you from being able to get used to any one particular set up.

At the third orgasm you’re sobbing, drooling, nearly growling swears as the pleasure circles around your bones. He’s made you cum back to back before, but never during a long session like this. It was cool in the car but you were starting to sweat from the exertion. There’s no pretense of trying to hide what’s going on, and if you weren’t tied up as much as you were you’d probably look like you were possessed.

“Gods-Fucking-Ass! Again, not again, shit, shit,” you squirm, hips bucking into his hand. “My ass, my ass, hhnnnnnnngh- it’s not-from-my-cunt-it’s-my-ass!” Growling you clench your teeth for a second as your body tenses from the anal orgasm and you start grinding into Marco’s hand. “Good, I’m good, I’m good,” you gasp the words because Marco was checking in on you between orgasms.

Your hair was sticking to your skin from the sweat and exertion. Your sounds were coarse and thick, pleading whines were more directed at yourself since Marco had already told you he wasn’t going to show you mercy until you reached the destination. If you really couldn’t take it you’d give him a color, but as much of a trial as it was, the orgasms were melting your mind and it felt amazing.

You were going to pay for them, you were sure, but you also knew that Marco loved the sounds you made. Whether you were begging, crying, or cumming at the top of your lungs. As long as your sounds, concerns, discomforts, pleasures and pains were his fault he was satisfied.

By the time Marco pulled into the next destination you were at the end of what you think you could take. The toys had been turned off, but your body was still twitching. Tears were drying on your face and you weren’t entirely sure how many times you’d cum, but you knew Marco kept watch over you, even while he’d been driving.

“How are you doing, my love?” Marco asks softly, his big warm hand cupping your cheek and pulling your gaze over to his.

“Good, m’good.” You mumble in response, nuzzling into his hand. “Lil’ yellow, maybe gimme a minute.”

“Of course. You need anything untied or removed?” He questions and you shake your head.

“Nah… no,” licking your lips you give him a weak, but genuine smile. “How long have you been planning this?”

Pink tinges Marco’s cheeks as his expression softens even more. “Years. Just… needed the right person to come into my life, yoi.” He explains, brushing sweaty hair off your face.

You can feel the heat rushing into your face, turning enough to hide in his hand. You hear him chuckle before he leans over and kisses the side of your face, getting you to stop hiding in his hand and letting him kiss your lips again. The sweet action sends the heat in your face back down into the rest of your body, warming you through and through.

“Ready?” His hooded gaze feels like it’s diving into your soul, and you nod shyly. “Good.” He kisses you deeply, tongue pinning you to the car seat, hand against your shoulder until you’re moaning into the kiss.

Getting out of the car, Marco gets you out again, this time putting you over his shoulder after removing the gag and mask from around your neck entirely and leaving them in the car.

“Oh no this is Whiskey Point.” You whine and Marco squeezes your ass.

“It is.”

Whimpering, you have a pretty good idea of what he’s going to do. Whiskey Point is notorious for the echo that rings out from it. School kids, usually at the start and end of the semester when the weather is really nice, come through as part of class field trips and shout their echoes into the air, giggling over all sorts of shenanigans.

To mark the best spot for this phenomenon, there’s a sturdy wooden lectern with a plaque on top that explains the point’s pleasures.

“No one’s going to know it’s you.” He says in what you suppose is meant to be a reassuring tone, as he sets you down by the lectern. He sweeps the snow off the stand completely, before taking your coat off of you entirely. Laying the silky interior of it down on the snow, you fidget and whimper, but now’s not the time to be asking questions or complaining.

Lifting you up he sets you, face down, on the cold stand.

“Cold!” You cry out involuntarily, flushing as you hear your voice flit over the landscape.

“We won’t be long, yoi.” He promises. “Count, pretty bird, loud as you can after each one. If you don’t give me your best shout I’ll have to come up with an additional punishment.”

“Yuh-yes sir.” Your breasts are cold, and so are your arms, your back, your ass, your legs - even the parts of you that aren’t pressed into the lectern are exposed to the cold air. You’re not sure if you’re shivering in nerves, anticipation, or because of the cold directly.

Marco’s hand lands sharply against your ass and the resounding clap almost sounds like a gunshot. You wait just a second for the echo to give you space and shout after it as loud as you can.

“One!” the word bounces around like the slap and you’re not as cold as you were before, embarrassment heating your body a little.

Another sharp crack, this time on the other cheek and you shout a count after it. Anyone within hearing distance is going to start putting two and two together, and anyone who knows will know what’s going on.

The third slap already stings, Marco’s not being gentle because time’s limited. By the tenth slap you know your ass is red, you can feel the sharpness of the sting, and the heat of your own skin from the strikes, but the whole situation is an intense turn on.

You moan. Loudly.

“Oh?”

“T-TEN!” You stammer, squeaking as Marco turns you over on the lectern. The cold wood feels wonderful against your heated ass, and you sigh in relief as he pulls the knot loose that’s holding your thighs closed.

Tucking the egg vibe into his pocket he cuts the crotch rope, and tosses the dildo into the snow. He takes a quick minute to work the anal plug out of your ass, tossing that into the snow too. You moan, softer this time, from the sensation, gasping as he grabs one of your ankles and forces your legs open wide.

“Wh-what are you doing?” There’s a focused look on his face, and while you trust him, you aren’t sure what he’s planning to do.

“Testing something, yoi.” With a practiced movement, he swings back and slaps your soaked pussy the same way he’d been slapping your ass.

The sharp clap isn’t as loud, and you’re sure he held back at least a little bit, but the snappy sting, the weight behind it drives right into your body. It hurts, sure, but the pain is nothing compared to the pleasure that rolls in behind it. The impact might not have echoed nearly as loud, but you moan in a way that more than makes up for it.

“Fuck,” you husk, body shivering for reasons that have nothing to do with the cold. “D-do that again, please.”

Marco’s brows raise and he smiles. “Not out here, yoi.”

Pulling you off the lectern he picks up your coat, shakes it once to dislodge any actual snow and puts it back on you. The interior has been made frigid, and you gasp at the sharp cold, whining and wiggling as he buttons you up. It’s part of the punishment, but also the cold does feel nice against your backside at least.

With your legs untied, he gathers the toys he tossed in the snow, the discarded bits of rope, and puts one hand on your shoulder to help you stay steady as you both walk back to the car.

“How’re you holding up? Still yellow?”

Shaking your head you smile as you get situated into the car seat. “Nah, I’m green. That was… unexpectedly invigorating.”

“Not much of a punishment then?”

“I did not say that.” You pout. “Feeling like someone had to have heard all that just… turned me on more than I thought.”

“Mm, well, we can even things out another day, and see just how much that pretty pussy of yours likes being slapped.” He declares, stealing a kiss as he buckles you into your seat and shuts you in. You’re already warming up the coat again, and you’re starting to get more comfortably warm.

Marco pops the trunk, tossing the items that are out of play into the back before getting into the driver’s seat. Without your thighs tied together, Marco’s fingers play in your wet folds ruthlessly. Anyone who can see his arm probably knows what he’s doing, and without the mask and gag there’s no way for you to hide your face entirely.

After your punishment you don’t dare to close your legs, you’re just grateful your coat is on and buttoned up fully at this point. Moaning and pleading with him within the confines of the car feels more private after you were screaming your head off at the echo point, and while other traffic is in the back of your mind you don’t really care about it.

“So nervous at the start, and look at you now.” Marco hums the words before plunging his fingers inside you, making you buck and cry out. “Being such a good whore.”

“For-for you,” you husk, rutting your hips into his fingers, your eyes are closed and you’re focused on the hot pleasure of his fingers.. “Juh-just for you, Muh-master, just a whore for you.”

“No one else.”

“No one else,” you repeat. “Un…. Unless you…” You can feel your face heating up, embarrassment rolling down your shoulders as you shrink into the seat. Marco’s fingers have stopped, and you don’t need him to tell you what it means. “I’d let you, you know, share me, if you wanted.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, and you aren’t sure if you said something that was going to kill the rest of the session, but his fingers start moving again.

“You trust me that much, yoi?” You nod in response and he pulls his fingers out of you, putting them in your mouth. Licking his fingers clean as you drove down the road was the right kind of embarrassing. “Mm, maybe when the weather’s warm we’ll go back to that park bench. Can tie your pretty ass up on the table, face down on the bench and let any brave passerbys that approach use you.”

The idea makes you clench and you moan against his fingers. The warm chuckle you hear from him is a good sign and while you’re sure you’ll be talking details and limits later on, right now it’s fun to just sink into the fantasy.

You lick up the length of his index finger. “I don’t need anyone else but you, just so we’re clear.”

“I know, pretty bird.” He hums in response. “I do like the idea of getting to watch you.” He turns your head toward your passenger window and you see a young, wide-eyed guy at the wheel, face flushed red, looking back at you. Opening your mouth, you stick your tongue out as the light turns green and Marco turns down a different road.

“His friends are never gonna believe him.” You muse with a grin.

Marco smiles, rubbing your thigh. “Ready for the last stop, pretty bird?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you reply, opening your legs and letting his hand wander where ever he wanted it to.

Marco drives for another half hour. When he asked his question you thought he was close to the stop, but as time carries on you can feel the anticipation knotting inside your stomach. He teases you, turning the vibes on your breasts off and on, fingering your pussy randomly, making you sit so it’s obvious that your legs are open, even if no one else can see inside.

By the time he pulls into a place you’re nearly in a trance, desperate for release, frayed from the length of the session and tense from trying to figure out what he’s going to do. Marco talks to you when he opens your door and it takes you a moment to focus on his words more than just his voice.

“With me yet, pretty bird?”

“Y-yeah,” you hum, leaning forward and nuzzling against his face.

“Good girl.” He praises quietly, kissing your cheek while helping you out of the car. “This is going to be intense, so don’t be afraid to call a color, even if you need to jump straight to red. I won’t be mad.”

“I know.” You answer as Marco presses your chest to his, reaching around and spreading your ass cheeks. You’re standing in the cold with him, but your backside is still to the car. You’re a little more aware now, but nuzzled into his chest you don’t know where you are.

He fingers your ass, adding more lube to what was already there from the toy. The action is sweet and pleasurable and you moan and whine softly into his chest. The toy’s been out for a while, but it had you loose and warmed up for long enough it doesn’t take him long to get you back there.

Marco undoes your coat again, this time setting it in the car before grabbing you by your rope harness and pulling you away from the car with ease, especially since your arms are bound he tosses you face-first into a pile of snow. You yelp in surprise from the action, and then cry out from the sudden cold of the snow against your bare skin.

Before you can do anything Marco’s on top of you, pushing his rock-hard cock into your ass roughly. It stings, despite the prep, but the stretch, the heat of him against you, the desperate need that had been building in your body since he started prepping you that morning was coming to a head.

You moan deeply, and Marco’s hands are on your shoulders, pushing you into the snow as he sets a heavy pace, fucking your ass for his pleasure more than yours.

“Cold it’s cold!” You cry, breath being shoved from your lungs with each slap of his hips into your ass. “C-cold, but- but it feels - Ah! ♥ - good! So fucking good!”

“Cum if you can,” he husks, grinding into you. His pace has slowed a little and he’s hitting all the places he knows you like. As harsh as the cold is, it’s nothing compared to what the situation and Marco are doing to you. “You’re clenching down so sweetly, pretty bird.”

“Don’t say that, don’t it’s - hah - embarrassing! I’m,” Marco grabs your hair, lifting your face away from the snow. You still can’t see anything but snow, and you moan as the vibes on your chest turn on. “Fuck, fuck, Maaaa-aster, I’m-.”

“Cum for me,” Marco commands, nipping at your ear. “I’m going to stuff ice cubes up your cunt and fuck you, look at you, loving this cold so much. Fill the tub full of ice and leave you in there until you start to turn blue, let you get to shivering so bad my touch feels like fire.”

“Gods, hnnnnnngh, no, no, please, I-!!” Your feet kick in the snow as your body tenses and you cum. Your pussy flutters against nothing, ass throbbing against his cock, the initial rush stole the air from your lungs, but you breathe in and cry out. The sound is desperate and guttural, clawing its way up from your lungs only to be shattered between your teeth as they clench against Marco’s continued thrusting.

You’d be clawing at the snow if your arms were free, but in a few more thrusts he’s driving you into the snow again pounding heavy in your ass. He feels hot, unbelievably hot and is throbbing deep in your ass, and the contrast is driving you mad.

“Hang in there, pretty bird.” He says, pulling out of you and rolling you over. Marco switches condoms so fast you wondered idly if he practiced just for this, or if he was always so quick and you just never had the focus to notice. The sharp cold of the snow on your back, however, was keeping your mind focused in the here and now, despite the lingering euphoria of your earlier orgasm.

He grabs your ankles and presses the back, folding you in half as he pushes easily, and deeply, into your pussy. Gasping, you moan, throwing your head back into the snow as he presses you down and hilts inside you. Soundly pinned all you can do is whine and moan with each deep thrust.

Every time you try to speak he kisses you. If you needed to call out a color you could scream it into his mouth, but you let his tongue shatter your words as his cock melts your mind. You’re going to cum again, your throbbing cunt was hungry for something after he made you orgasm from your ass and you were already sensitive from all the teasing and spanking of the day.

The only sounds you made that escaped Marco were your moans. There could be a crowd for all you knew, but you didn’t care, let them hear what he did to you.

The building pleasure is soft despite everything surrounding it. The build is inevitable, but your body is too tired for much more at this point. Garbled thanks bubble up in your mouth only to be devoured by Marco as your eyes roll back, and you spasm against him. He lets the babbling moans go, licking and nipping at your neck and collarbone. He fucks you through the orgasm, heavy, bruising thrusts pushing the air out of you and keeping you on the edge of pleasure until you’re whining and squirming beneath him in overstimulation.

You can’t stop the sob as your addled and abused body begins to overload.

“Please, please I can’t - can’t cum again, please, I’m begging,” you sob. Your tears are hot against your cheeks, more so because of how cold your body was. “Please, master, please.”

“One more, pretty bird,” he commands, words and lips sinking into your skin. “You’re doing so good for me.”

“Can’t,” you sob even though you can feel the tension in your thighs again. “Can’t, please, please just use me, and c-cum, please.” Your voice cracks between sobs and Marco kisses you, grinding into your clit and bullying himself as deep as he can.

“Fuck,” he husks, breaking the kiss and putting his forehead against yours. “Just like that, you’re so perfect for me,” he practically growls the words. “Crying so beautifully, you’re making me cum, pretty bird.”

His words go straight to your cunt and you cry. “No, no, I’m gonna - gonna!”

Marco grunts, snapping his hips roughly a few times as you cum with him. “Just like that, good girl.” His words sink into you with the euphoria of the forced orgasm and you can’t really hear or feel anything except for him.

-:-

The last orgasm had all but shattered your senses, and you were only vaguely aware of the ride home. Marco took care of you, talking to you the whole drive back home, which was short, since he’d been slowly circling back toward it the whole time.

He sat and soaked in the tub with you until you were both pruny, after he’d gotten you warmed up thoroughly and washed. You’d come around entirely by the time he was showering with you, and were able to lean against him and relax in the tub. You two talked about the session, things you definitely wanted to do again, new things you wanted to be able to try, and when Marco teased suspending you from a tree and leaving you in the snow you didn’t argue against it.

The most embarrassing part of the entire thing was the next day, when Marco brought you the newspaper during breakfast, pointing to something he’d circled.

MISSED CONNECTIONS: To the girl good at counting on the peak during Valentine’s; I’da given you ten more at least ~_^

#x reader #reader insert #marco the phoenix #mdni #love is in the air

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alittlebitofloveliness · 21 hours ago

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Ticket to Anywhere

This is my Valentine's gift fic for @qprpbj! You mentioned Paul/Darry in your prompt and I saw a post of yours about the lyrics of "Fast Car" by tracy chapman being Peril coded, so I wrote a songfic based on that. I hope you enjoy <3

Word count: 2760

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

You got a fast car

It’s a cold day in February of their junior year when Paul turns sixteen and shows up in the school parking lot in a brand new AC Cobra. It’s so shiny it gleams, painted a deep blue-black colour that’s almost a match for Paul’s eyes and a perfect match for his letterman jacket. For a second, jealousy flares so strong it burns up Darry’s throat until it chokes him, because he can pretend to be one of them all he wants, but he never will be, not really. He could never afford a car like that, not in a million years, one that costs more than his dad makes in a year, easy. His own birthday had passed a few months back, and the closest he got to getting any car was dad saying he’d start teaching him to drive and that once he got his license he could borrow the truck now and then.

So he watches, envious, as Paul shuts the door, his stupid sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and Chrissy Smythe practically throws herself at him. She might as well be drooling, though whether it’s over Paul or the car, Darry isn’t sure. In any case, it doesn’t seem to matter, because Paul extricates himself from her simpering as quickly as he can without being rude and catches Darry’s eye with a grin.

“Nice car,” Darry says, because it is, any idiot could see that. It’s the kind of car Steve and Soda rhapsodize about, the ones Darry’s sure Steve is gonna try and steal one day.

“Thanks,” Paul grins and tosses him a set of keys, “wanna take her for a spin after school?”

His eyes are twinkling, deep blue and mysterious and soft in a way Darry knows is just for him, a deadly secret swaddled in daydreams. Just like that the envy evaporates.

“Sure.”

Paul offers him a fist bump, the tap of their knuckles the closest they can get to holding hands in public. The contact still makes his heart race anyway.

And I want a ticket to anywhere

“Theatre tonight?” Paul asks when they’re in the locker room after practice one Friday. He’s in just his boxers, towel slung haphazardly around his neck, hair still wet from the shower. Darry is being very careful not to stare, and even more careful not to hyperventilate. He should be used to this by now, after almost three years of being on the team together, but the thing about stars is that they’re hard to look away from, and Paul has always been the brightest star in Darry’s galaxy. It makes it hard to think.

“Sounds like a plan. Who else is coming?” Is it date night or a hangout is what he’s really asking and Paul is even more casually nonchalant when he answers.

“I invited Chase and Angelina but they’ve got other plans, and Joey’s little sister is sick so it might just be the two of us, unless you got anyone else you wanna invite.”

“Maybe I’ll ask if Carla wants to come.” He says even though they both know he absolutely won't.

“Cool,” Paul agrees, finally putting a shirt on, a soft looking Madras flannel Darry wants to steal. They bid their farewells to the rest of the team and Darry grabs both their duffel bags as they walk side by side out to the parking lot.

Paul lights a cigarette while he tosses the equipment into the back of the Cobra. Darry pretends he doesn’t see the way Paul is checking him out, and flexes a bit more than is necessary when tossing around relatively light equipment bags.

Then Paul tosses him the keys to the car Darry knows he should never have had a chance to drive, and tells him to go faster until they’re flying down the back roads, sun in their hair and wind stealing the laughter from their mouths. They eat dinner at a greasy spoon in the middle of town between the east side and west side, and don’t talk about it. Paul pays for everything and Darry pretends it doesn’t send a familiar wave of embarrassment down his spine, even though he knows it’s the only way Paul knows how to show he cares sometimes.

It’s getting dark by the time they reach the theatre and they’re running later than they meant to. Paul buys two tickets to the first movie he sees listed on the board, and neither of them have any idea what it’s about, but it doesn’t matter much anyway when they reach into the popcorn bucket held between them and their hands brush.

Maybe we make a deal

Maybe together we can get somewhere

“You ever think about getting out of here?” Darry asks one night when they’re lying on the grass in Paul’s backyard, staring up at the stars. It’s a bit chilly out, but Paul is warm pressed against his side, head tucked into the crook of his shoulder. He smells like fancy cologne and fabric starch and beneath that, sweat, and it’s so uniquely Paul that it drives Darry a little crazy.

It’s a soft night tonight, just the two of them in Paul's almost perpetually empty house, his dad on another business trip and his mom back in some rehab centre rich folks call a wellness retreat. Paul is in an even better mood than usual, bright eyes almost feverish in their shine, and he’d been the one to convince Darry that stargazing of all things was a better date night activity than watching a movie. Now, he lifts Darry’s hand in his to press a kiss to the back of his palm, and hums.

“Out of where? Tulsa?”

“Yeah.”

Paul laughs, once, a bright chuckle, like a firefly in a forest, there and then gone again, fleeting and beautiful.

“I don’t just think about it, I’m planning for it.”

“Oh.” It’s times like these that the true gulf between them smacks Darry in the face, when he remembers how truly different their worlds are. For some reason he can sit in Paul’s thousand dollar car and visit his giant house and not feel it, but then they have conversations like this and he remembers it. Paul doesn’t need to wonder about getting out of Tulsa because it’s already a done deal, because he’s been accepted to any college he wants before he’s even applied because the Holdens sit on a fortune and his mom has connections at Yale. Darry on the other hand…well, they’re not even seniors yet and he’s terrified. He already spoke to coach about extra training over the summer, and he’s been saving every penny from his job at the diner, because even if he manages a full scholarship he’ll still have to afford textbooks and board and everything else. His grades are fine for right now, but next year they need to be perfect. He needs to be perfect because he doesn’t have the luxury of second chances. He can’t make a mistake.

Paul starts talking about MIT and Yale, voice soft in the darkness, and Darry thrusts the whole thing from his mind, pressing a kiss to Paul’s lips to shut him up, because Paul is getting out of Tulsa and Darry doesn’t know if he’ll ever get the chance to; and because it’s clear from Paul’s rambling that him getting out doesn’t involve keeping Darry, doesn’t involve staying them, and for some reason that stings more than the thought of never getting out of Tulsa at all.

He wants to bring it up, wants to make him promise they’ll stay together even if it’s a lie, but Paul never makes a promise he can’t keep and Darry knows asking him to tonight would be a certain kind of cruelty he doesn't have in him. They kiss under the stars and Darry wishes there was some way he could love him and lose him without it feeling like an inevitable, final, ruining blow to the chest.

Any place is better

He shows up on Paul’s doorstep one night, just two months into their senior year, tears streaming down his cheeks. He’s always been big, broad shoulders and a tall frame, and it’s a terrible mockery of the universe, that he is such a big person and yet completely and entirely helpless, small in the face of the problems of the world.

He all but collapses into Paul’s arms, and Paul catches him like he always does, warm and solid and everything he wants and has but never completely, and he wants to leave Tulsa and never come back.

Eventually Paul hauls him upstairs to his room, and they curl up together under his comforter. Paul is everywhere, and the sheets smell like him, and slowly the tears subside enough for Darry to hiccup out an account of Soda’s bruised face mottled black and blue, of Steve’s shattered ankle, and Ponyboy’s tiny, shaking hand raising a cigarette to his lips for the first time ever and far too soon while he watched dad put stitches in Soda’s sluggishly bleeding forehead.

He tells his soc lover about his beat up greaser brothers and he is loyal to all of them and none of them and it doesn’t matter anyway because he’s helpless. He can’t stop the violence or the hate any more than he can save Pony and Soda, or even himself, from their side of the tracks. For a second he hates Tulsa Oklahoma so much it sickens him, a slow poison sticking in his throat and choking him, making it hard for him to breathe or cry or think.

He had to get out, he tells Paul, had to get out of that house, away from his brothers’ fear and Steve’s anger, and the resignation in Pony’s frightened eyes that at only eleven years old were far too used to far too horrible things. He had to get out, just for the night.

It’s a lie. As he falls asleep, Paul’s arms warm and safe around him, he promises himself he will find a way out of Tulsa if it’s the last thing he ever does. One day, he swears, he’ll leave and never look back.

Starting from zero, got nothing to lose

Maybe we'll make something

Me, myself, I got nothing to prove

Darry was born on the east side to a father who worked construction and a mother who worked a factory job up until he was born and every odd job she could find afterwards. He’s a blue collar boy from a blue collar family, in a blue collar neighborhood. Needless to say, he’s no stranger to hard work. Still, as he moves into his last year of high school he works harder than he ever has before. If he isn’t playing football, he’s practicing it, and if he isn’t practicing it he’s doing homework, and if he's not doing homework or football he’s scrubbing plates in the dish pit at his job. Family, friends, and a social life take a backseat, sleep becomes an afterthought, and yet it will all be worth it when he gets a scholarship- any scholarship- for football or academics it doesn’t matter, to any college that will take him. All he needs is an acceptance letter with a full ride, enough money offered that he can leave, leave the second he graduates instead of sticking around for a year and working, trying to save enough to get out. He knows better than to try, knows if he doesn’t get his ticket out paid in full he’ll never leave this godforsaken town, no matter how much he wants to, knows there will always be something else holding him back.

For the first time since he kissed Paul back in sophomore year, they’re fighting. Paul thinks Darry doesn’t care, is pouting in the way only someone who has only ever had everything can pout, and he refuses to see Darry’s side no matter how many times he explains it. Darry’s frustrated and tired and so stupidly, desperately in love that he promises to work on it, and Paul promises to try harder to understand, and things aren’t perfect, but they’re not gone, and Darry promises himself the slight distance between them will be worth it when he wins his scholarship.

In the end, it doesn’t matter at all and it never did. None of it is worth it, because Darry gets five college acceptance letters, and two partial scholarships, and neither of them are enough.

He’s not going to college.

You got a fast car

And I got a plan to get us out of here

“Will you come with me?” Darry asks when Paul finds him, because Paul knows, better than anyone, how much he hates this town and how badly he wanted to get out. It makes sense then, that he knew without Darry having to say it how determined he still is to go somewhere, anywhere that isn’t here, even if college is off the table.

Paul’s deep blue eyes go very glossy very fast.

“I can’t.”

Of course. Of course he can’t, and Darry knows why, knows all about the acceptance letter to Yale tossed carelessly on his bedside table, for a program Paul didn’t even want. Knows Paul would be beyond stupid to throw it away, and wishes he loved him enough to do it anyway.

“Ok.” Darry nods, and Paul’s hands curl into fists because he hates apathy from Darry, for all that it’s his own weapon of choice. Darry figures he loves him enough and owes him enough to end it the way Paul wants, so they fight, and Paul leaves, and it hurts as much as he knew it would a year ago, that night when he realized this was the only way it could end.

He finishes the semester with a bleeding heart that's been broken twice over, wondering why the curse of the east side meant he was never enough, even when he was the best of them all.

And then Paul comes back.

Been working at the convenience store

Managed to save just a little bit of money

He has money saved is the thing. Not a lot, but enough, every spare cent from the dish pit at Al’s diner carefully squirreled away into a fund that was meant to be for textbooks and now is meant for something different, something more. It’s a lifeline, not quite a ticket out, but an escape nevertheless.

He hands in his resignation the same day he walks across the stage to get his diploma, and doesn’t look back.

Won't have to drive too far

Just across the border and into the city

And you and I can both get jobs

Paul picks him up, the day they’re set to leave, in the same AC Cobra he let Darry drive back when they were sixteen.

His parents don’t understand it, but they hug him goodbye and they love him anyway. Soda is understanding, but his eyes are sad, and Pony seems betrayed but there’s a look in him that’s beyond the kind of understanding Soda always wears, something Darry thinks might reasonably be called kinship, as he pulls away and Pony tucks himself into Johnny’s side like he was made to fit there.

Darry claps Dallas on the shoulder, hugs Two-bit tightly, and ruffles both Steve and Johnny’s hair before he hefts his bag and follows Paul back to the car. There’s a piece of him that wishes he’d spent more time with his family this past year, but it’s a hollow ache of a vague could have been, and it pales in comparison to the elation that comes with getting out, of the relief that comes with not being stuck.

“You ready?”

Paul is as beautiful as he’s always been, those stupid sunglasses perched once again on his nose.

“Yeah,” Darry sighs, and it feels like he can relax, finally, for the first time in his life, “I am.”

There’s a map in the cupholder, creased and scribbled on, with directions to New York City, and a note in his pocket with the address of their new apartment in his breath pocket. The air smells like adventure.

“Let’s go build a life together.” Paul smiles, carefree and happy, and Darry loves him so much he can’t even really describe it.

The car turns the corner. He doesn’t look back.

Finally see what it means to be living

#the outsiders #darry curtis #darrel curtis #paul holden #peril #parry #the outsiders 2025 valentines day exchange

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delight-angelsbliss · 2 days ago

Note

Hello, may I request S1-30 where Sonic see his crush excitedly showing papers, stickers and perfume for letters to their group of friends asking for their opinions in some combinations of it bc she is writing a very important letter, then some days pass she seems kinda down and never touch in the subject of the letter anymore just to Sonic found a crumpled love letter cleanly to him with no sender but with the same combination of paper, stickers and perfume that he and their friends chose to reader's letter? (Btw I've been liking your writing a lot 💕)

Prompt: writing a letter only to throw it away

Warnings: none to my knowledge crazy notes go brr

Notes: I'm back queens did u miss me HELP THIS IS SO CUTE also ty I've been trying hard 😋 ok so basically when I was writing this on a bench with some ppl but someone was harassing me coming way too close and breathing down my neck I was literally so creeped out brother euugh and someone was laughing screaming saying " she's getting harassed!" I also had therapy and I might go back to a mental hospital again. Chat btw is sonic a homeless man? Idrk so I'll just pretend they have apartments and stuff lol also the reset thing isn't absolutely gone but I'll manage

Ever since February started you've been raving about a particular letter you're making everyone knew about it and even tried to help you

What perfume? Moschino pink Boquet seemed fitting! Should I pick the blue or pink envelope? White with hearts may be cool

The one who helped you the most was definitely amy, I see her as a romance enthusiast and would definitely be there for anyone who struggles or something with romance

But someone was more intrigued than helpful, ofc it was Sonic! Making little jabs at you for trying, pushing to who it could be, teasing you for having a crush

It was ENDLESS!! He was so relentless with his teasing that it got annoying at some point. But could you blame him? From his point of view you were in love with someone else and that made him jealous

He felt heartbroken but let it go to keep you as happy as possible

It's like his heart was ripped out his chest and eaten but he paid no mind and instead tried his best to continue helping you with the letter for mystery person

But at the point where he made peace with you not being in love with him.. You've already stopped talking about it

It's like you've never even heard of it

Maybe it has been sent? He didn't know but it made him a bit worried

But one day while back at his place, he finds a neatly designed letter, the envelope was white and had small hand drawn hearts every where with a nice perfume scent

The letter had his name on it but no sender, but the cute packaging reminded him of a certain someone's letter

Was it really from you? No way. His heart lights up and so does his smile, if it was really from you he had to find out!! His crush left him a letter his life felt whole and complete

If it was really from you then Sonic knew he had to confront you about it

Not long after he starts racing to your place, but suddenly he goes back home

It's best to get some flowers, don't you think?

With everything in hand, flowers and the letter, his feet race to your apartment

In mere seconds Sonic reaches your place, his heart beats as fast as possible as his hand hovers against your door. The sun had its time and was now setting, the shade from the others building and the combination from the setting sun made it all feel so much more romantic

Sonic calms his breathing, returning to his normal state: cockiness

His hands finally give a strong knock

After you open the door, your gaze meets the letter that was oh so gently in his hand

"Be my valentine..?" Sonic holds out the flowers

Maybe leaving letters do work

#x reader #sonic x reader #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #sonic the hedgehog x reader #જ⁀➴ ♡ janahts february #sonic reader insert #sonic the hedgehog

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waynes-multiverse · 1 day ago

Text

Oh, for sure they shipped that kid off to Mrs. Brooks as soon as she fainted. Ben probably threw him outta the car on the way home lol. And he had definitely developed a hatred for the bedroom door 😂🩷

snorts What a good comeback, though surprised Ben acknowledged that so easily. 😝

Haha I actually gave Rehab a reread to get a feel for them again, and he grew increasingly more self-deprecating toward the end 😆 (He also knows that arguing about this with his wife who literally knows would be useless lol)

God I'm so relieved!! You had me going there for a while. 😭 But with your promise of a happy ending here I held onto my seat and kept calm.

Honestly, my heart couldn't have taken it either after everything I've put them through 🙈💕

Also I love that eating enough to feed a small army was part of her recuperation lolll. Talk about ravenous -- but I have a feeling she's craving something else now. 😏❤️‍🔥

Bahaha yes, it's been a while for both of them 😏 At least she's not a supe anymore, and Ben can relax a little more 😂🔥

LOLL honestly I'm kind of with him on that one. Why is everything labelled a "kink" nowadays? 🤣🤣🤣

Oh, so true! Thank you gramps for saying what we can't 😂 (But seriously, breeding kink used to be just baby fever. Like, am I wrong??? lol)

Wayne omggg! Seeing your note at the end, I DO remember sending you that Ask!! I'm so happy to see it done here because it's absolutely perfect for these two and this moment. Thank you for using the idea! 🥹💓 Deep down, Gramps just wants to be made love to, and you gave him his heart's desire. 😘

So happy you enjoyed what I did with it! Thank you so much for giving me that prompt, Alex!! I really could see this for them, especially since they've been more on the wilder, experimental side, so this was a nice switch and they seemed to both really need that. Not me getting sappy explaining goddamn smut lmao 😭😭

*snorts* 🤭😏 I see you, Wayne.

Also on brand that he'd be such an ungrateful whiny sourpuss on his birthday. 🙄

Ikr? 😂 And I genuinely think it was all the reasons you mentioned. Getting older, being over birthdays in general because it's been goddamn too many, and then no super blow job?! Tsk, poor man-child...

YES. I have this headcanon too, that this is the only way to manipulate him into doing what you want. Especially when he's being a prima donna. 🤣

Hahaha totally! This is why we're still the smarter gender, even though we forget feminism with SB 🤣🤣

GOD he's so dumb for this loll. That's actually a really cute way to tell hubby you have a bun in the oven. 🥹

I broke down laughing writing this because I could see him totally not catching on 😂😂 (Also when has that man actually ever seen a pregnancy test from this century? lol)

But I thought the idea was sweet. I've seen a couple of people do this in reels over the years, and men generally take forever to read a test correctly (and its implications lol). I swear the video I made of my husband still makes me laugh so hard because he had no fucking clue what I was trying to tell him 🤣🤣

(And I have a few more drabbles planned for them, including Benny 🥰)

Thank you so much for reading and all your sweet comments, friend!! 🥹🩵🩷 I honestly can't wait for a little reading break after this and dive into your HC about Man Flu because I feel that title in my bones lmfao 😂

Lover – Part 3

Series Summary: Free from his past, Ben’s trying to move on and find a little drop of happiness in this new world. But when he finally holds everything he ever wanted in his hands, it threatens to slip through the cracks, and he has to fight one final time with everything he’s got to keep it.

🫡 Catch up here! Sequel to Rehab & Video Games.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female!Reader

Warnings: 18+ due to language & mature themes, established relationship, Soldier Boy x wife!reader, human!Soldier Boy, the fluffiest of fluff, the smuttiest of smut (watch out for the breeding kink lol) 😉

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day to you all, loves! 💕 Thank you so much for all your wonderful comments over the last few days. I've seen and appreciate them all and will catch up with you guys over the weekend 🥰 For now, excuse this poor mama, 'cause she is fucking beat 😂

Enjoy the happy end 🩵

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Part 3: Lovestruck

Three fucking days he had waited in front of that goddamn door.

He slept in front of that door, ate in front of that door, and he silently panicked in front of that door. He hated that fucking door, had raging murder fantasies about it, but he never, ever opened said fucking door, no matter how much his fingers were twitching. Mostly because every time his hand did wrap around the knob, she’d yell at him to ‘stay the fuck out.’

Ben only unwillingly complied.

But when the quiet came and all other noises stopped, he finally dared to set a foot inside. The bedroom looked normal, even if disarrayed – but the bathroom surely needed a fucking remodel.

All that remained of their bathtub was a solidified puddle of acrylic. There was also a hole in the floor – burned right through the tiles. He’d wondered why it’d been so cold in there till he'd noticed the giant hole in the wall too that gave a perfect view of their backyard. But he found Y/N resting and curled up on the cool, white tiles – alive.

His heart might have fucking soared higher than an eagle.

When Ben asked her how she felt, she only replied with “Like I fucking survived D-Day.”

At that, Ben had snorted and said, “At least one of us did.”

And when they were both sure the worst was over and she wouldn’t turn the car into bubbling liquid as well, Ben finally drove her to a hospital. She was still weak, mostly from not eating a thing in four days. The doctors thought she must’ve had a severe case of the flu, gave her an IV drip with plenty of nutrients, and then released her after a few tests.

She’s been exhausted since then, drifting in and out of dreamland as he holds her in his embrace. She begins to stir again, and soon enough, she glances tiredly up at him through her eyelashes and gives him a lazy smile when she realizes he’s still here, exactly where he was hours ago when she last woke up.

“How late is it?” she asks and stretches a little in his arms but only ends up snuggling closer to him.

“Close to three,” he replies, and judging by the darkness outside their bedroom window, she guesses he doesn’t mean in the afternoon. “How are you feeling?”

Y/N almost breaks a smile. She can’t remember if he had ever asked this much about her well-being before. Her little brush with death might have shaken his steeled core more than she’d initially figured, and her heart swells slightly at the thought.

Sometimes, she still thinks he only keeps her around because he doesn’t know any better. It’s like getting an abused dog from the shelter – you never know if they really love you or if they only tolerate you because you’re nice enough to feed them.

He’s a creature of habit, after all.

But the affection and genuine worry gleaming in his pine green eyes tells her he might see more in her than that – whatever the hell that is.

“Better.” She nods, letting her fingers trace patterns around the golden freckles on his chest. Much better, she thinks as she feels the familiar heat pool between her legs. She bites down on her lower lip and presses herself closer to his perfectly toned and muscular body. It’s been too long since she’s worshipped every fucking glorious inch of him. “I think the fried chicken and noodles helped,” she adds with a small grin.

He chuckles – but not at her words. He can feel how she’s rubbing her thighs together now to get a little friction.

“Oh, I’m sure the burger, fries, sushi, and tacos helped, too,” he teases her. He came this close to entering her in one of those eating competitions as he watched her empty take-out container after container.

“Don’t forget the churros.” She giggles, and on cue, she rolls fully on top of him and straddles his waist, spreading featherlight kisses along the paths her fingers trailed.

“Not surprising. I already know how much you can stuff in that fucking mouth, doll.” Ben’s wide smirk is full of pride, and it causes her to giggle.

To make his point even clearer, his massive hands smooth down her sides and grip the globes of her ass, grinding her core against his proudly standing member. She mewls into the crook of his neck when she feels how fucking hard he is already. He lets out a grunt that carries the same desperate need to be inside of her as two of his thick fingers delve into her tight channel without much of a warning.

“Fucking drenched,” he mutters appreciatively as she arches her back with another moan on top of him. His free hand winds itself in her hair, giving it a slight tug that parts her lips with a pleasurable hiss as he drags her closer to his face. His amusement doesn’t fade, though, nor do his fingers in her pussy as he works her into a frenzy. “Sure you’re ready enough for the big guns, baby girl?”

She giggles breathily at his relentless teasing. “I’m literally about to come any second now,” she replies, soon followed by a harsh bite of her lip when his calloused thumb finds her clit. “Fuck…”

“Oh, I don’t think you fucking are.” Ben smirks and withdraws his fingers from her heat in the same breath. He laughs a little when she falls against his chest with a whimper of real loss.

Her hand finds his length between their burning bodies and wraps around it, already dragging his tip through her dripping folds. But Ben only entertains her plans for a second before snatching her wrist and pulling her away from him.

She whines this time and looks up at him. “Dear God, what do you want?” A laugh rumbles through his chest at the exasperation on her face. “I’ll do anything you want, anywhere you want. Just tell me. What’s Soldier Boy’s deepest, darkest fantasy, huh?”

Ben knows she’s teasing him, and a smile of amusement twitches on his lips, but a part of him actually seriously considers her question.

“What?” Her brow knits curiously as she observes the contemplative purse of his pillowy lips. “It’s okay. You can tell me,” she assures him and grins cheekily. “How fucking dirty is it?”

Ben swipes his tongue over his teeth and subtly swallows the lump in the back of his throat. He doesn’t reply instantly, however, pulling her ear to his lips as he whispers his little wish.

When he’s done, she blinks at him in surprise (and a hint of amusement). She certainly hasn’t expected that, but she places a loving kiss on his lips. The asshole can be charmingly sweet once in a blue moon.

“You sure about that?” she checks, but her tone is more than a little teasing. “There’s a lot of kinks to pick from.”

“Why does your generation always have to label fucking everything? It’s fucking sex. That’s it.” He huffs a bit too defensively, and she tries her best to muzzle her laugh. “What’s fucking wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” she assures him, giggling, and tries to soothe the furious lines of offense on his brow with little kisses. “It’s just surprising. It’s usually what super-old, married couples do.”

“Well, there you go,” he retorts. “I’m super fucking old and married. You’re gonna keep fucking chit-chatting or are you gonna do it now?”

“Fine, I’ll make love to you,” she relents with a smirk as she voices his little secret out loud.

“Jesus fuck!” He throws his head back into the pillow with a theatric eye roll.

His patience has run out. He grabs her fast and rough and flips them both over in a blink of an eye, her back landing in the plush mattress with a bubble of giggles. His weight presses down on her and deliciously threatens to squeeze the air from her lungs.

“Let me show you how it’s fucking done, my love,” Ben says with a cocky smile and begins to ravage a path of destruction down her throat. She’s sure she’ll be more colorful than a rainbow in the morning.

His teeth nib on her skin, hands pawing at the only clothing item that still covers her body from him, soon tearing the shirt over her head. His mouth stops attacking her clavicle then, green eyes focusing on her tits with a rising smirk.

“There’s my girls. Daddy’s home…”

Before she can even reply with a laugh at his comment, his mouth is swallowing her left tit, tongue roughly swirling over her nipple till it peaks against his wet muscle. She moans and arches off the mattress when his other hand massages, palms, and squeezes her other breast with the same fervent hunger.

Her hands find purchase on his strong upper arms, bicep flexing underneath her pads. His mouth devoutly licks lower and lower down her belly. She can feel his smirk rise against her skin the further he travels before his tongue dives straight into her folds.

“Fuck!” Her hips instantly buck forward, everything below her belly button clenching at the welcome intrusion.

And God, that man is skilled when it comes to sex. If he takes nothing else in his life seriously, this is his goddamn Olympics. He always gives it his all, just aiming for that gold medal over and over again.

It’s why she honestly forgives him for most of the shit he does or says, and she’s pretty sure he knows it, too.

His arms wrap around her thighs and pull her even closer against his sinful mouth. Her ankles cross behind his head, calves resting on those broad shoulders that seem to be made just for that purpose. Her toes tease his scalp, scratch the back of his head that cause little groans of his against her center that sound both submissive and primal, as if it's the most natural thing to give his everything to her.

His nose deliciously rubs her clit, and then the bastard fucking inhales and sucks the air right out of her when his lips seal around her bundle of nerves. She cries out his name, her cunt clenching with aching emptiness.

“Don’t worry. I know what you need,” Ben hums against her mound and shoves two thick fingers into her wet channel. “So fucking tight. You think you can take three? It’s been a while. Gotta get you into shape again…”

Fucking Olympics.

His digits then pump her so purposefully, mouth sucking her so religiously, she soon soars so fucking high she can see fucking Cupid himself. Her head falls back into the clouds when that fucking arrow hits, and she falls apart under his binding spell.

She thinks she might have passed out there for a second or two. When she steals a glance south, he still works her zealously through her glorious high as her pussy grips his fingers so tight she’s baffled they don’t break.

If she still had been a supe, they would’ve have.

And my God, she knows Ben’s never wasteful, not with his drugs nor with her arousal, but the way his tongue cleans her and licks his own fingers reaches a new level of obscenity she hasn’t witnessed before.

He acts like he’s been fucking parched for decades, and her juices are the elixir of life.

Then, when there's not a drop left to drink, and only then, does he decide to resurface with the laziest and proudest fucking smirk she’s ever seen. He leans so close to her face their foreheads touch, and she can smell her own scent in his glistening beard before he makes her taste herself, too.

“You’re still the same shithead.” She smirks breathlessly, her tits heaving as she breaks from the kiss. His chuckles fill her soul. She cards her fingers through his beard and brushes the hair back that falls into his mesmerizingly green eyes. “You’re gonna make love to me now?”

A smile widens on his plump and swollen lips, even at the hint of teasing in her voice, but he doesn’t respond with words, only nods and claims her lips in a blazing kiss. He angles his hips between her thighs then and spreads her legs further apart as they secure around his middle.

His lips leave hers and force her eyes open, staring straight into his. There’s an abundance of devotion and love in the lush greens that fill her heart. He makes her fucking feel it – every goddamn thing she is to him.

She feels his love when their fingers interlace and he pins them above her head. She feels his dedication with every thick, long inch he pushes inside of her. And she feels his fucking loyalty with each deliberate stroke.

He doesn’t rush, even keeps the dirty talk to a minimum. This is just for her.

It’s his fucking Olympics.

But most of all, she sees their vows shimmering in his eyes and knows he’ll never fucking break them.

“I love you,” she moans breathily into his ear, wounding herself tighter around him. She’s fucking close, ready for that next arrow with his name on it to pierce right through her heart.

He smirks a little in response, like he’s been waiting to hear it first. “Trust me. I fucking love you more,” he says, voice husky and thick with love. He emphasizes his promise with a snap of his hips, driving his cock right against her cervix. “Gonna pump a full fucking load deep into that little pussy till you’re fucking knocked up with a whole litter.”

Fucking shit. That should not turn her on as much as it does, but it’s hard to goddamn deny it when she comes right then and there as soon as he’s finished that filthy sentence.

“That’s it. Fucking milk my cock,” Ben rasps into her ear and feels his balls tighten when her pussy quakes around his shaft. “Like a fucking faucet,” he murmurs appreciatively and sucks marks into her neck. He’s missed making her his work of art, too.

When he spills his seed into her, hot and raw, he ensures their eye contact never breaks. He wants her to see what she’s fucking doing to him, how he falls apart just for her, too.

Two months later…

“What the fuck is taking you so long?” Ben stretches his neck and tries to peer into the kitchen. He begrudgingly eyes the green, glittery party hat on the dining table in front of him. “‘M not putting the fucking hat on, by the way.”

“Dude, you think it’s fucking easy lighting 108 candles on a fucking cake?” she retorts from the kitchen with a bit of bite before she strolls out with a sort of wonky buttercream cake, but the smile on her face is even brighter than the million candles.

“There’s no fucking way you put 108 candles on there,” Ben scoffs and grumpily crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back with a creak in his chair.

He’s been a bit of a party pooper all day. It also didn’t help when their son pointed that out at breakfast.

However, Ben probably shouldn’t have replied with: “Yeah, you would be too if your wife said no to blow.”

And yup, you bet your ass he woke her up bright and early in the morning, requesting she’d lick the snow off his dick. He’d termed it a super blow job and was rather disappointed when she'd declined.

“No, but I managed to get 53 on there, so it’s an A for effort,” she replies patiently. God, she needs so much fucking patience every day, but especially today.

“What fucking hippie school did you go to, huh?” Ben huffs and only encounters an annoyed frown when he looks at her.

“Blow out your fucking candles and make your wish, caveman,” she orders him dryly.

With a pissy eye roll, he does, puffing the life out of each little flame. “Are we fucking done with this now?”

Just then, the oven timer goes off, and Y/N straightens in the seat across from him.

“Uh, almost,” she says. “Got something in the oven. Can you check?”

“It’s my fucking birthday. How about you check yourself?” he retorts like a fucking princess.

“Ben, c’mon, I just spent six hours in the kitchen, baking you that cake,” she argues.

“Surprising it took six hours for this fucking thing,” Ben mutters, and she’s about to goddamn choke him.

Patience is a virtue, patience is a virtue…

“Baby, please, my feet hurt really bad.” She pouts, and he finally gets up with a deep sigh. She smiles wickedly.

“The oven isn’t even fucking on!” Ben yells soon from the kitchen. “And there’s nothing fucking inside!”

“Are you sure?” she acts as best as she can. “I thought I put something on the baking sheet.”

She listens to the clattering metal before a beat of silence follows. She’s sure his brows are densely knit in confusion (and frustration) at this point.

“What the fuck is this? Why would you put a fucking plastic stick in there?” The question finishes when he returns to the dining room, a small, white stick still in hand. He then holds it to his nose. “Why the fuck does it smell like piss?”

“Because I fucking peed on it,” she responds but sees he’s still not fully catching on.

“Ew! Why the fuck would you put that in the fucking oven?!” His brow furrows so comically she tries her hardest to stifle her laughter.

God, she hopes the kid gets her brains.

“Why is there a fucking smiley on it?”

“Because you’re supposed to be fucking happy, you moron,” she says.

“Why would I be fucking happy over a piss stick? Not exactly the fucking Rolex I wanted, is it?”

“Ben.”

His green eyes narrow at her and then blink. “Wait…”

“Yup.”

“Are you–“

“Yup.”

The stick in his hand drops to the floor before he scoops her up into his arms so fast she feels slightly dizzy from the motion. Happily, her legs wrap around his waist and arms lock behind his neck. She kisses him deeply, and he kisses her back with the same passionate devotion.

He squeezes his eyes shut a little tighter, forcing the tears to stay in, but she can still see the remnants of them when she draws back from his lips.

“I’m pregnant,” she says in case he still needed the verbal confirmation.

“Best fucking birthday ever,” he replies, swallowing the fucking lump in his dry throat.

She grins mischievously. “Told you it would be a good one, but no super blow jobs for a while.”

He snorts a chuckle. “Got it. I’ll take the regular ones, too.”

Ben once used to hate everything, his heart, much like the Grinch’s, a few sizes too small for anything else. But now, there’s barely enough space in his chest to contain it all. These days, he certainly considers himself a lover of all things life has to fucking offer.

The End 💕

Didn't I fucking say I would fix it?! Well, there ya go! Sid and Nancy got a happy end 🌅❣️

Do you guys think Ben wished for a baby or a fucking Rolex when he blew out those candles? 😂

(@zepskies 💜 – Not sure you remember this, but you sent me this ask for Dirty Drabbles about a year ago lol: What if Ben's girlfriend/wife/partner agrees to help fulfill one of his dirty fantasies. She's fully prepared for it to be insane (a la Ben), but what he requests is actually something surprisingly sweet (in its own way lol) And I immediately had this for this miniseries in mind! It fit those two perfectly!! 🥰🫶)

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Forevers: @alwaystiredandconfused @lyarr24 @supernotnatural2005 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

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#comment reblog #lovely readers 🤍#lover #rehab sequel #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader

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cloudcountry · 1 year ago

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i just want to extend a reminder to every minor on here. please be careful. please do not post nsfw. please do not interact with adults who have a) stated they don't want to interact with minors or b) create nsfw content. i get that it's not going to stop minors from consuming said content but for your safety and theirs be careful.

#auburn's rambles <3 #this was absolutely prompted and it's been prompted for a while #i know a lot of minors follow me and some of the things ive seen my mutuals mutuals say is . Concerning #i know you're interacting with fellow minors but be careful because you never know when someone could prey on you #and also please tell people you're a minor in your bio #ageless blogs don't help anyone establish those boundaries #your actual age is nobody's business but the fact that you're a minor is important #i know im mom-ing right now but seriously #be careful you guys.

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stealingyourbones · 4 months ago

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Out of all of the people The Ghost King Phantom expected to relate to, it definitely wasn’t the scrawny red headed photographer of the Daily Planet. Jimmy Olsen has gotten so many temporary superpowers over his time being Superman’s friend. Hell, he once gained a 4th dimensional being’s reality warping abilities when he was given said dimensional being’s powers during a fight. Sure there’s a dozen or so heroes with the same amount of powers he has, but none as suddenly granted to them as a all powerful god that can relate to a teenager.

#bones speaks #hi this is bones in the future: below tags I do mean but I was Not Sober while writing them so they may have severe spelling errors #bones prompts #dpxdc #dp x dc #just google the amount of times Jimmy has had powers and what they are. I just read a comic #where the F PLOT of all things is Jimmy getting superpowers and causing havoc in Metropolis. that’s how frequent this is #the all powerful god powers was in a recent Batman/Superman Worlds Finest issue where he got Mxyzptlk’s powers #like guys. there are SO many heroes that have more powers than Danny in DC.#off the top of the dome I can only name a few (in my defense I am Not Sober so memory is Not Good:)#Raven. The Spectre. Superman. The Atom. Batman (temporary powers). Dr Fate. Martian Manhunter #and I could name more if my memory wasn’t shot rn #this is a mini rant in the tags but I’m so tired of the ‘Danny has so many superpowers it would stump DC’#it would for sure shock them. but they wouldn’t be surprised. why are they all so shocked from Danny’s arrival?#I’ve made many posts about how much more interesting Danny simply being in the JL like it’s just another Tuesday would be interesting #so many folks enjoy the discovery aspect of Danny and not the part where he’s alreaady a JL member and is #*isnt OP. it’s so much more interesting to write a character with flaws. make him regular powered and able to be struck down by a Big Bad #and not just his weaknesses. he’s been beaten to shit by ghosts before. the angst possibilities is crazy.#Billy Batson looking at a kid nearly his age get hurt more and more by Black Adam? Fear Gas setting him on a rampage in Gotham absolutely #destroying his perception of what being safe is anymore. Lex Luther finding his weakness and wrecking his shit #it could be SUCH an interesting direction to take dpxdc but no one does. when I write prompts with those ideas they make a fraction of the #notes of the prompts where I pander and have batfam in them. diversity of ideas in fandom is what makes us strong. keep the new and #unorthodox ideas flowing. it feels like you’re swimming upstream but it’s worth it to help a fandom grow

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 2 years ago

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A-Qing, the little fox.

#better drawn mdzs #mdzs #a-qing #I needed to draw her happy one last time #i also really wanted to try my hand at drawing Hanfu. Clothing is still hard for me but I learned a lot!#the process was 1) get idea from the fox hairpin extra 2) thumbnail 3) look up references 4) accept that this is nearly an impossible task #5) do it anyways. For A-Qing #It has also been a while since the last better drawn mdzs. I've been getting better! B*)#I chickened out of having this be a ‘draw this in your style’ prompt….Perhaps in the future!#I want to improve a little more first I think. Psychically beaming my beloved mutuals to re-kick off DTIYS in my stead #I adore how A-Qing is associated with foxes! She is cleaver and quick to adapt! A trickster in many regards!#There is absolutely more to analyze here but I'm not well versed about Chinese mythology

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luxaofhesperides · 1 year ago

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For ghostlights: baby Ellie + tired Danny + Duke the baby whisperer?

He has no idea how his parents did it.

Babies are exhausting. Toddlers more so. Any infants in the strange stage in-between? Doubly so.

Ellie is wonderful and sweet and cute and such a terror that Danny genuinely has no idea how his parents managed to raise not one, but two kids. For all their eccentricities and absent-mindedness, he and Jazz turned out pretty well. Ignoring the whole halfa thing because that’s more his fault than theirs even if Jazz says they shouldn’t have created the dangerous environment in the first place.

That environment is exactly why Danny refuses to let Ellie go to his house in Amity Park. His parents say they’ve disabled all the weapons and ecto-sensors since he’s had to reveal himself as Phantom, but he knows that things slip their minds and if they can’t guarantee that the house is safe, then Ellie isn’t going in there. Simple as that.

This means that they live somewhere else now. Danny had thought about it, during the hours Ellie was asleep and he was awake, exhausted and worn down to his bones, and took Jazz’s advice to accept Vlad’s offer of buying a house for him. Except he argued Vlad down to an apartment in a city of his choosing where he wouldn’t stand out too much and he would be safe, or as safe as he can be, from anyone trying to hunt down ghosts.

So here they are. Standing in the empty living room of their new apartment in Gotham.

Gotham may not be very safe as a city, but it’s good for two ghosts trying to pass as normal.

Danny sighs yet again, and looks at the space he’ll need to fill. At least Vlad is footing the bill. It’s the least he can do for creating Ellie. Frostbite was the one who was able to stabilize her, though it was almost too late and resulted in her reforming as a baby, just one and a half years old. Jazz is the one who’s choosing most of the furniture, thankfully, so it’s something that Danny doesn’t need to worry about it.

It’s a new start to their lives and it feels so empty. So overwhelming. How did his parents do it? How do any parents do it?

Ellie smacks a small palm against his cheek and babbles lightly.

“I know, Ellie,” Danny says, giving her a tired smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll have this place looking good in no time.”

He adjusts her in his arms, then heads towards the bedroom. It’s the only room that has any furniture, and all that’s there is a bed, a crib, and a bookcase. There are a few boxes on the floor, labeled ‘bedroom’ and ‘clothing’ and ‘books’. Most of it came from his bedroom in Amity Park, but he’s pretty sure he caught Jazz sneaking a few things in before they closed the boxes and loaded them up into the car.

“Can you be good for five minutes?” he asks Ellie.

She babbles again and smacks his shoulder.

“I’m taking that as an agreement. Just let me open these boxes and start unpacking before you start causing trouble, okay?”

Ellie makes another sound, but it seems agreeable so Danny carefully lays her down in the crib and gets to peeling off the tape on the boxes. The opens the one labeled ‘bedroom’ first, finding blankets and sheets folded and stacked in vacuum sealed bags. One of them is his old childhood blanket, the one he carried around everywhere that was faded with age, barely blue, with white bunnies decorating it.

He was so small when he had this. It makes him oddly emotional to unpack it and pass it on to Ellie, draping it over her so her pudgy little hands can grab at it.

This is no time to cry, though! He forces himself to focus and makes his own bed, shaking out the sheets and fluffing up the pillows. He’ll worry about washing everything later; Vlad made sure to get an apartment with an in-unit washer and dryer, which means he was actually sensible while apartment hunting for Danny.

He doesn’t mean to flop onto the bed once it’s made, but he ends up there anyways. He’s barely gotten a full six hours of uninterrupted sleep since Frostbite deemed Ellie healthy enough to leave his care. The drive up to Gotham was long and wore him down to his bones.

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but he does, drifting off as he wonders, distantly, when Jazz will be back from getting them dinner.

Ellie wakes him up at dawn with a loud cry. Danny jolts awake, heart pounding in his chest as he panics because Ellie isn’t here, she’s supposed to be in his arms, where is she? And then he sees the crib, where Ellie is staring at him through the bars, and he nearly collapses with relief.

“Morning, El,” he says, voice rough from sleep, as he picks her up. She just stares up at him, then leans forward and rests her head against his shoulder.

It’s quiet moments like these that make his heart melt. Ellie’s had a hard life already; he wants to give her a better one, this time around.

A quick check of the time on his nearly dead phone shows that it’s barely past six in the morning, and Jazz texted him a few times. All about furniture, saying that she didn’t want to wake them and that food is in the fridge.

It’s only the mention of food that makes him realize how ravenous he’s feeling. Danny makes a beeline for the kitchen, ignoring everything else, and pulls out the boxes of take-out Jazz left stacked in the fridge. He devours it like he’s been starving for weeks, then gives Ellie her Ecto-Jello, the only food she’s allowed to eat until Frostbite gives the okay for solid, human food.

Once he’s got her burped and cleaned up, Danny looks out of the kitchen and realizes that Jazz was very productive while he was asleep. The living room isn’t empty anymore; a dark green couch is against the wall, a low, rectangular coffee table made of dark wood in front of it. Two armchairs are on both sides of the couch, and a television has been installed, fixed into the wall.

Jazz is asleep on the couch. Her legs hang off an armrest and she’s drooling slightly.

Her phone is charging on the floor, so Danny takes it and snaps a picture of her for later teasing, then sends it to himself and writes a note to her that he’s going out with Ellie to explore the neighborhood.

He’s finally feeling more settled, energized from sleep and food.

In the warm dawn light spilling in through the windows, Danny looks down at Ellie and thinks that they’ll be just fine after all.

. . .

Four months ago, Danny had hope. He was optimistic.

Gotham was a fresh start, a new lease of life for Ellie. It is Danny’s attempt to be a single parent, sacrificing college for Ellie, and he’s planning to go out and beat the gangs black and blue if they start anymore shootouts in the next year.

He had just gotten Ellie to sleep. She was actually peacefully taking a nap.

And then a drive by shooter raced down the street, gunshots echoing down the road, and Ellie work up crying. She still hasn’t stopped, despite how Danny rocked her, soothing her as best he could.

They had been outside when Ellie fell asleep, her head on his shoulder. He had been catching up with Sam and Tucker when the car drove by, people ducking and crying out to avoid the bullets. Danny instinctively covered Ellie and made them both intangible, saving them from any stray bullets, but they ruined her nap and he needs to make them pay for that.

“Shh,” he soothes, “You’re okay. We’re both fine. It’s okay, El, it’s okay.”

Her little hands clutch at his back, twisting the fabric of his shirt, and she lets out a heartbreaking wail. He pats her back, hurrying down the street to get back to his apartment building, ignoring the looks people were giving them as they passed by.

“I know it was scary, but you’re alright. You’re always safe with me, El.”

Ellie’s cries down down a little, but they don’t stop. She whimpers, burying her face against his shoulder as he finally reaches their apartment building.

The door’s locked, which wouldn’t be a problem except Danny can’t get his keys from his pocket. He knows he has them! But his pocket refuses to relinquish them and he has to stop every few seconds to pat Ellie’s back, trying in vain to calm her down.

“We’ll be inside in a second,” he tells her, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice, “as soon as I can get these freaking keys!”

“Hey, you alright?”

Danny startles, whirling around so fast it makes Ellie go quiet, clinging to him so she doesn’t get flung into the air. There’s a guy standing before him in a gray hoodie, looking at him with clear concern. It speaks to Danny’s level of constant exhaustion that he hadn’t clocked someone sneaking up behind him.

The guy offers an awkward smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you or anything. Um, do you need me to open to door? I live here too.”

Danny wonders for a moment if this someone dangerous, someone hoping to hurt Ellie, but she starts to cry again and he steps to the side. “Please. I can’t get my keys.”

“I’m Duke, by the way. I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

“Danny,” he replies, watching as Duke pulls out a large key ring, jangling with the amount of keychains on it, and easily opens the door. “I’ve been here a few months, but I’m usually inside. Or walking around in the mornings with this little monster.”

“That would explain it,” Duke says as he holds the door open, letting Danny in first. “I’m usually in classes at GCU, but I decided to take a mental health day after my lab, so here I am.”

Danny walks in and waits for Duke to follow, making sure the door closes properly behind them. “Thanks. How is GCU? What do you study? I was thinking of going there myself once she gets a little older and can go to school.”

“Oh, I’m majoring in English and Human Services.” He goes to say more, but Ellie wails again and Danny winces.

“I’m so sorry. That drive by woke her up and it’s really rattled her.”

“Hey, no need to apologize. I get it, Gotham is rough to kids.”

Danny tries rocking her back and forth, but it doesn’t help. He resigns himself to another hour of her crying before she exhausts herself, and makes for the stairs, going up to the fourth floor. Duke holds open the door again, then follows after them. It makes Danny wonder if Duke is planning to do something to them, then decides he can beat Duke in a fight, so it’s fine.

Duke doesn’t try to hurt them or steal Ellie away. He opens the door to their floor and stops before they do. “I’m in here,” he says, “If you ever need me to open more doors.”

“Thanks. Um, actually, I might need help opening mine?”

Duke just smiles and makes his way back to them, following them farther into the hall until Danny stops in front of his apartment.

“If I could just get my keys,” he starts.

“Here, let me hold her for a second so you can get them,” Duke offers. Danny wants to insist that it’s fine, but Ellie cries directly into his ear and Danny, at the end of his rope, passes her over.

Like magic, Ellie settles as soon as she’s in Duke’s arms. She sniffles and hides her face away, clutching to Duke’s hoodie, but she stops crying. They both go still, surprised, and stare down at her.

“Seriously?” Danny says as he finally pulls out his keys, “Are you trying to say that I’m the problem?”

Ellie babbles lightly, and Duke turns his head to futilely hide his grin.

He grumbles as he unlocks the door and pushes it open. Ellie is acting as if she’s never been upset before a day in her life, making herself at home in Duke’s arms.

“I can’t believe this. Betrayed by my own blood.”

Duke laughs as he follows Danny into his apartment, lightly patting Ellie’s back. “It’s always the smallest, cutest ones that do this.”

“Yeah? Do you work with a lot of kids or something? Used to being betrayed by the little ones?”

“I don’t work with kids per se,” Duke says, “But my foster family is a hot mess and the youngest of them likes to keep us all on our toes.”

“Family,” Danny says in a tired, fond tone.

“Family,” Duke agrees.

With his door open and Ellie calm, Danny’s ready to just lay face down on the floor for the rest of the day and not deal with anything else. He moves to take Ellie back, holding his arms out, and Duke tries to pass her over.

The key word being tries.

Ellie tightens her grip and kicks at Danny. She refuses to be taken away from Duke, making him awkwardly try to pry her off his hoodie. Danny really hopes Duke doesn’t notice how she goes slightly intangible to make his hands fall through her arms and legs. It shouldn’t be noticeable, but it’s hard to focus on anything but a kid that clings to you, so Danny holds out for Duke’s goodwill and silence.

“As nice as it is to meet you, you need to go back to your… parent?” Danny nods when Duke looks at him in askance. “You need to go back to your parent. Okay? Come on, kid, he’s waiting for you.”

Ellie shakes her head, makes a frustrated noise, and then turns and reaches out a grabby hand towards Danny.

She still refuses to be taken from Duke when Danny tries to pick her up again, so he settles with just letting her hold two of his fingers.

“I’m so sorry about this,” he says to Duke, face burning. This is why he hasn’t been going out and being social since he moved in; Ellie is a handful even on the best days, and Danny doesn’t want someone to judge him as unfit to parent her and have her taken away.

Duke shakes his head, stepping closer. “It’s all good, man. I don’t mind. It’s not like I had any plans today. I’m already skipping my classes, might as well spend it with you two than sleep all day.”

“Are you sure? I’d be happy to invite you in, but I know Ellie can be a lot and not everyone wants to spend their day off with a baby.”

“I’m sure. Besides, I’d just be down the hall anyways. It’s no skin off my back, man.”

“Well,” Danny says, stepping to the side to give Duke full access to his open doorway, “Come on in, then.”

Ellie keeps them connected, one hand in Duke’s hoodie and the other holding Danny’s fingers, and though her cheeks are still red from how hard she had been crying, she’s calm now with her eyes shining with mischief.

As the door closes behind them, Danny realizes that this is the first time someone he’s not related to has been inside his apartment. Not even Vlad has come in, always choosing to invite Danny and Ellie out for lunch instead.

It should make him nervous, but Duke is calm and easy going and kind.

He’s making silly faces at Ellie to make her laugh, completely at ease with her in his arms, as if he’s done this a thousand times before.

Gotham is a second chance at life for Ellie. It’s a sacrifice for Danny, to be alone and without friends or family around. He’d been ready to give up everything for Ellie, to focus solely on raising her, but with Duke filling his apartment with laughter, he thinks that he can make a life here too.

All he needs to do is take that first step, reach his hand out, ask Duke to stick around.

He can do this.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #prompt fill #my writing #i really love writing about characters struggling to be parents v suddenly and thru unconventional means #so here's danny a year out of high school living on his own for the first time w baby ellie #and duke who needed some space and independence while he's in college. bruce pays for the apartment while duke works part time for grocerie #and ellie who had been fully developed but unstable is now a halfa baby who remembers stuff but is also. yknow. a baby.#she absolutely latched onto duke to force danny to have a life outside of her. but also she can sense that hes kind and calm #which danny needs bc he is Stressed (tm)#this leads to duke bringing over food for them and looking after ellie while danny goes shopping or naps #both of them ignoring how duke has to leave suddenly for Hero Related Reasons and how danny and ellie have Powers #it's a v delicate balance they keep for the sake of keeping ellie safe #yeah they're gonna co-parent and realize they're basically dating after MONTHS of pining #the bats have bets on who gives bruce a grandkid first and literally no one bet on duke but here he is lol :)#thanks for the prompt!!

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