#unsafe yet legal

[killed-by-choice]

Amber Thurman, 28 (USA 2022)

Amber with her beloved son

Georgia’s Pro-Life laws have reduced abortion and protected women. Amber Thurman, who died because of a legal abortion from out of state, is the only person in Georgia for years of records to die from septic shock from “retained products of conception.”

Amber, a healthy 28-year-old single mother, learned she was pregnant with twins in 2022. Scared for her stability and feeling unable to provide for them while attending nursing school, she and her friend Ricaria Baker scheduled a legal surgical abortion in North Carolina.

After leaving her son with a babysitter and making the long drive to another state, Amber and Ricaria were delayed by heavy traffic. They contacted the abortion facility only to find out that the facility had crammed in so many clients that they wouldn’t let her have more than a 15-minute delay or they would cancel her appointment. However, a facility worker gave Amber a “counseling session” and sold her the abortion pills. Tired from the journey and frustrated at the idea of making the long trip for a second time, Amber agreed. She took the first pill at the abortion facility on August 13. She was nine weeks pregnant.

Ricaria later told media that Amber wanted to get home before the abortion symptoms started. The two of them went home and Amber took the final dose.

Amber would soon learn that chemical abortion was not as safe or convenient as the facility claimed. She was in intense pain and bleeding much more heavily than she was led to expect. Her boyfriend called 911 after she vomited blood and lost consciousness.

At 6:51 P.M. on August 18, Amber was brought to Piedmont Henry Hospital in Stockbridge, Georgia. Her condition mirrored that of others killed by “safe and legal” use of the abortion pill. A pelvic exam and ultrasound indicated that the legal abortion left tissue inside of her, where it decayed and caused sepsis. Her blood pressure was dangerously low from bleeding, her white blood cell count was elevated, and while attempting to use the bathroom she fainted again and hit her head.

After assessing Amber’s condition, doctors started her on an IV drip and antibiotics to combat the sepsis, The OB-GYN who was caring for Amber noted the possibility of doing a D&C the next day. However, her condition badly deteriorated. By 5:14 the next morning, she was having trouble breathing and her blood pressure was still dangerous even after five liters of fluids. Realizing that Amber was even sicker than previously thought, her doctors continued to gather information and increased her antibiotics. They also tested for STDs that could potentially complicate treatment and for pneumonia, which can easily develop in patients with sepsis.

With her blood pressure so low, Amber’s doctors tried to save her by giving her Levophed. This was a powerful blood pressure support medication given because she desperately needed her blood pressure to be stabilized. But even with Levophed, Amber’s blood pressure kept falling. She was admitted to the ICU at 6:45 A.M.

By 7:15, doctors discussed a D&C. However, because of her critical condition and because of how the Levophed affected blood flow, surgery was very risky for Amber. Still, after a specialist in intensive care examined her, it was decided that the risk had to be taken.

In the OR, it was discovered that the sepsis was causing her organs to fail. Amber’s bowel needed to be removed, but because of how her blood flow was affected, it was too dangerous to do so. A surgeon carried out the D&C as planned, but the infection was so bad that Amber also had to have a hysterectomy. Despite the hospital’s efforts, Amber went into cardiac arrest during her surgery. A maternal mortality review noted that her death was preventable.

Once Amber’s case became publicly known, some pro-abortion sources tried to claim that the Georgia abortion ban was what actually killed her. They claimed that Georgia law had criminalized D&C so absolutely that doctors were limited in what they could do to save her life.

This is not true.

First, Amber’s twins were already dead. A procedure to remove a dead baby’s remains or other retained tissue is not medically or legally qualified as an abortion.

Second, the legal text of Georgia’s abortion ban clearly states that even if a treatment could be considered an abortion (which, again, does not apply to removing the remains of a corpse), it is unambiguously legal if needed to preserve the life or health of the mother. The text of the law allows doctors, not politicians, to have the final say in what qualifies. Legally, Amber’s doctors were allowed to give her a D&C at any time— which they did. The claims that the abortion ban forced the doctors to delay the D&C or criminalized it are unfounded. Even ProPublica themselves admitted that “Doctors and a nurse involved in Thurman’s care declined to explain their thinking and did not respond to questions from ProPublica.” In other words, they were only guessing what they thought might have been the motivation.

Amber’s D&C was also performed on the day it was planned. There was no refusal to treat her, and in fact even the article that attempts to paint her as a “victim” of abortion bans admits that surgery was dangerous at that point because of the blood pressure medication— the medication given because her legal abortion made her lose so much blood. Surgery may be delayed for extremely fragile patients, and seeing that multiple experts were being brought in to analyze her case and help the best they could, it is extremely likely that she did not receive surgery sooner because they thought it was more likely to kill than save her. This is especially relevant in a patient with respiratory distress, organ failure and extremely low blood pressure— surgery on someone with highly impacted blood flow poses risks of its own.

Lastly, there is no denying that Amber died from a legal abortion. She was not a criminal— she underwent something she was told was “safe and legal” and still died. The blame for her death rests on the abortion facility that packed in as many women as they could and then risked their lives.

It is also worth noting that in a case like this of abortion pill-induced sepsis, treatment can fail even when everything can be attempted. Given that she was already in severe sepsis when admitted to the hospital, even an immediate D&C (had she been stable enough for one) may have been too late. A similar case, the death of “Jayden Roe,” records an immediate D&C being done on a patient who was much less sick and still died.

But even if, hypothetically, Amber’s doctors delayed an aspect of her treatment needlessly, that would be their fault individually as practitioners, not the fault of a law that clearly allows them to use their own judgement and decide for themselves.

Although Amber was afraid of financial instability, she loved being a mother and frequently posted about how much she loved being with her young son— a son who lost his mother and two siblings to “safe and legal” abortion.

Since becoming publicly known, Amber’s death has been exploited by abortion supporters. All of the social media posts claiming that abortion bans killed her miss a very crucial fact: she died of complications of a fully legal abortion.

[killed-by-choice]

Her family also publicly stated that they don’t blame Georgia’s Pro-Life law for her death.

I haven't seen many people mention Amber Thurman's case recently, especially after it came out from her family's lawyer that they were suing the doctors for medical malpractice and other women spoke up about the mistreatment they received at her hospital. I even did a quick online search and the latest news article I could find was in mid-late September...

Once I find out any more news (I might look up the family later to see if they post anywhere), I will share here. Amber and so many other mothers and their children deserve justice.

And please, PLEASE, whether you are pro-life or pro-choice...please just listen to mothers when they tell you about their horrid experiences with a hospital system or doctor. It doesn't matter whether abortion is on the books or not, medical malpractice is its own systemic problem that needs to be addressed.

[kyofsonder]

Hey I'll support practically anybody with "sonder" in their username, but what does "Ky" mean?

Thank you for the supportive ask, and the appreciation of sonder as a concept. It's always good to see other people understanding and liking sonder.

I rambled a little, as usual, but the TL;DR is that Ky doesn't stand for anything and is just the name of the guy running the blog. The whole username is a set of chosen names, actually.

For the rambling version, it's a combination of my own chosen name and my system's chosen group name. I picked the name "Ky" for myself because every name I put into every video game and book as a kid that wasn't my deadname would invariably start with "ky" and in games that had limited letter slots it would often just be those two letters on their own. I've considered changing the spelling to "Kai" because it's more recognizable in most places, but the history of "Ky" as a thing I picked for myself still has a lot of meaning to me.

The "Sonder" part of my username is actually also a chosen name. It refers to my tendency to experience sonder on a daily basis and my admiration of the concept itself, of course, but it also functions as a reference to my system. While I don't talk about it very often, and typically keep it to tags when I do, I do have it in my bio that I'm plural. Most systems choose collective names to help differentiate between when it's the host/usual person speaking, another named system member speaking, someone who doesn't know their name speaking, or the system as a whole speaking together.

Our chosen system name is "Sonder" because it not only references what I just mentioned about my experience of Sonder, but also acts as a reminder that even when I'm the only one speaking to my followers on this blog or even when it's quiet for us internally and we're not speaking much to each other as a system, we all are and deserve to be treated as people with lives and stories of our own -- to whatever extent makes each of us feel most comfortable and respected. It's been a nice reminder for us to have.

The "of" part of my username is also a reminder. It means this blog belongs mainly to me, Ky, but I'm inevitably Ky of the Sonder System. Most posts and tags are mine, but there's inevitable bleeding through of other Sonders -- and some posts are entirely theirs. All original writing tagged #sonder stories is mine, I write it, but we know there's influence from Sonders whether we plan it or talk about it amongst ourselves or not. This blog contains reblogs, posts, replies, and writing by Ky. Ky of Sonder. The username reflects that.

[inkskinned]

the thing is that they're so fascinated by sex, they love sex, they can't imagine a world without sex - they need sex to sell things, they need sex to be part of their personality, they need sex to prove their power - but they hate sex. they are disgusted by it.

sex is the only thing that holds their attention, and it is also the thing that can never be discussed directly.

you can't tell a child the normal names for parts of their body, that's sexual in nature, because the body isn't a body, it's a vessel of sex. it doesn't matter that it's been proven in studies (over and over) that kids need to know the names of their genitals; that they internalize sexual shame at a very young age and know it's 'dirty' to have a body; that it overwhelmingly protects children for them to have the correct words to communicate with. what matters is that they're sexual organs. what matters is that it freaks them out to think about kids having body parts - which only exist in the context of sex.

it's gross to talk about a period or how to check for cancer in a testicle or breast. that is nasty, illicit. there will be no pain meds for harsh medical procedures, just because they feature a cervix.

but they will put out an ad of you scantily-clad. you will sell their cars for them, because you have abs, a body. you will drip sex. you will ooze it, like a goo. like you were put on this planet to secrete wealth into their open palms.

they will hit you with that same palm. it will be disgusting that you like leather or leashes, but they will put their movie characters in leather and latex. it will be wrong of you to want sexual freedom, but they will mark their success in the number of people they bed.

they will crow that it's inappropriate for children so there will be no lessons on how to properly apply a condom, even to teens. it's teaching them the wrong things. no lessons on the diversity of sexual organ growth, none on how to obtain consent properly, none on how to recognize when you feel unsafe in your body. if you are a teenager, you have probably already been sexualized at some point in your life. you will have seen someone also-your-age who is splashed across a tv screen or a magazine or married to someone three times your age. you will watch people pull their hair into pigtails so they look like you. so that they can be sexy because of youth. one of the most common pornography searches involves newly-18 young women. girls. the words "barely legal," a hiss of glass sand over your skin.

barely legal. there are bills in place that will not allow people to feel safe in their own bodies. there are people working so hard to punish any person for having sex in a way that isn't god-fearing and submissive. heteronormative. the sex has to be at their feet, on your knees, your eyes wet. when was the first time you saw another person crying in pornography and thought - okay but for real. she looks super unhappy. later, when you are unhappy, you will close your eyes and ignore the feeling and act the role you have been taught to keep playing. they will punish the sex workers, remove the places they can practice their trade safely. they will then make casual jokes about how they sexually harass their nanny.

and they love sex but they hate that you're having sex. you need to have their ornamental, perfunctory, dispassionate sex. so you can't kiss your girlfriend in the bible belt because it is gross to have sex with someone of the same gender. so you can't get your tubes tied in new england because you might change your mind. so you can't admit you were sexually assaulted because real men don't get hurt, you should be grateful. you cannot handle your own body, you cannot handle the risks involved, let other people decide that for you. you aren't ready yet.

but they need you to have sex because you need to have kids. at 15, you are old enough to parent. you are not old enough to hear the word fuck too many times on television.

they are horrified by sex and they never stop talking about it, thinking about it, making everything unnecessarily preverted. the saying - a thief thinks everyone steals. they stand up at their podiums and they look out at the crowd and they sign a bill into place that makes sexwork even more unsafe and they stand up and smile and sign a bill that makes gender-affirming care illegal and they get up and they shrug their shoulders and write don't say gay and they get up, and they make the world about sex, but this horrible, plastic vision of it that they have. this wretched, emotionless thing that holds so much weight it's staggering. they put their whole spine behind it and they push and they say it's normal!

this horrible world they live in. disgusted and also obsessed.

[ladylaviniya]

Daddy's Final Deal

Oneshot Summary: Your possessive Step-Father Bruce Wayne decides he cannot bare you leaving for college...so he leans on a friend who shares the same obsession for you. He offers him a deal.

Oneshot Warning: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Non-Con, CNC, Grooming (all characters are of legal age.) Bondage, P in V, Oral Sex, Threesome, Exhibition, Vouyerism, pseudo-incest between step-father & step daughter, pimping if you squint, breeding kink if you squint. No condoms/unsafe sex.

Word Count: 10.2k

Author Notes: This is a gift for @cardierreh15 after a playful dare. I hope you enjoy this babe 🥺��

Gently laid on soft satin bed sheets, your thoughts were consumed with the evening discussion that you had during supper with your step-father Bruce and his best friend Clark, followed by the unexpected marriage proposal Clark had made. You were surprised Clark had wanted your hand for any other purpose than for your step-father’s wealth– you would have never guessed his feelings for your because he was usually so calm and friendly with everyone. Yet he had asked you softly if you would consider being his wife with a warm smile, and you knew he was serious from the glint in his eyes. It was like your lungs were drowning with how difficult it was to breathe.

For the first time, your heart stirred, void of fear and worry.

You didn’t outright decline his offer, but a decision of this magnitude deserved more than a hasty reply. You had to think this through being that you were so caught if guard in the first place, so you demurred by saying you needed time to think about your official answer. After all, you were just a month away from starting college. You wanted to be a journalist like Clark despite Bruce’s protests and alternative encouragement for you to remain home and attend charity balls with him. Besides, Clark was a bit too old…a little younger than Bruce but both men still had twenty years on you.

If age wasn’t the defining taboo, you had noted Clark was a gentleman who had the ability to make you laugh. If anything was to happen to Bruce or Alfred, you felt Clark would be the most reliable shoulder to lean against.

You rolled over and sighed, you held your blanket up to your chin and continued to ponder.

Clark Kent...he would be a decent husband, but did you have feelings for him? He was rather charming and undeniably handsome. It was something that you would probably lose sleep over in the future.

Clark had approached the topic very calmly, almost shyly, and Bruce had seemed to be expecting this. That made it obvious to your that Clark had asked your step-father first, and Bruce would not have let his best friend ask you if he did not approve first...Bruce in fact was smiling at dinner and that smile fell when you have your polite neutral response.

Suddenly the wine he had let your drink felt a little sickly in your belly. You excuses yourself as soon as you could to your bedroom.

You rolled over in your sheets and sighed softly, snuggling up under the thick duvet and nuzzling the thousand-dollar pillows. It confused you, but the more you thought about it, the less absurd it became. You giggled. Clark would make a very good husband, and you would be lucky to have someone such as him, of such a good but firm character, always with an easy smile or an encouraging word for you. And he had always been a good friend to you, respecting your interests in writing, sometimes babying you, which girls your age might find annoying but you didn’t mind.

The boys your age were so horny and stupid...immature. it was impossible to see them as providers for the families that they claimed to want for themselves.

So saying “yes” to Clark would feel a little weird to you, but what real reason was there to say no? Did you have someone else? You might’ve shared kisses along your teens in highschool, yet none of them swept you off your feet enough to like them.

You were just glad that Clark had agreed to let your think about it. His smile had been relaxed, and he showed no anger or resentment. His eyes did appear tighter, other than that it even seemed as if he had expected your hesitation and was willing to wait. Clark was always so understanding, why wouldn’t he be about such an important question like this?

You shut your eyes with a smile.

★★★

Meanwhile, the men remained downstairs in the library, in front of the fireplace, and Clark looked across the flames at his best friend.

“Are you sure you still want to go through with this Bruce?” he asked.

The men had known each other for years and had grown a close bond in friendship and other activities. And if course it was bound to slip from one man’s lips to the other about their depraved thoughts, desires and fantasies....it turns out they shared a common denominator... You.

Over a month ago they were sitting in the same place discussing the same issue about to occur...losing you.

They knew if you left for college, you’d meet some cocky asshole studying to be a lawyer or doctor, get pregnant, get married quickly only to suffer a uncommitted marriage and end in a heart breaking divorce.

What type of men would they be if they watched their favourite girl fall to such demise as that!?

Bruce had married your mother when you were fourteen and he was the best dad you could ever ask for. He helped with your homework and taught you to swim while he paid for your mother’s chemo therapy.

When she died three years ago, you’d just finished highschool. You were totally shattered and put off summer break and college until you knew you were prepared. But now Clark had dumped the marriage proposal.

Clark sighed. His best friend's idea wasn’t totally a surprise to him. Bruce had planned this.

Clark recalled how Bruce was constantly looking out for you; his protectiveness as a stepfather, while perhaps misguided, was undeniably apparent. It was clear that he cared about you deeply and had shown no interest in any other woman since the passing of his wife—your mother. Clark often caught Bruce gazing at you with a loving and compassionate gaze, as if he were contemplating the best way to look after you.

During those days Clark was scared to share his own perverse thoughts...oh how the man wanted to look after you. You always were so lovely around him, so eager to gain his attention and praise, perhaps as another fatherly figure she could cling to...It wasn’t hard for Bruce to see that Clark loved you dearly and was clearly proud of your accomplishments. Clark was proud like a second father.... Except he wanted to do things no father should ever do to their little girls. He almost lost it one day when he walked in on you, on your hands and knees scrubbing the carpet before Alfred could find the stains you’d made when stealing some red whine from Bruce’s cellar. Your skirt was a tad too short, the hem pulled up over your ass cheeks and crotch. Clark held back from ripping those white nylon leggings with those cute pink panties and shoving his cock deep in your tight cunt.

He wondered if Bruce ever found out about the stain...he touched himself imagining Mister Wayne spanking his wayward little minx of a daughter over his knees.

Clark wanted you. Bruce wanted you and the moment they both figured it out, neither of them could judge each other for their thoughts....

They decided Clark would ask for your hand and the billionaire of Gotham would give his best friend his blessing – on one condition.

The idea was foul and taboo, and Clark was not sure whether he should deny to it or not. But this was his best friend, the loving step-father who cared about the young woman Clark wanted to marry as much as he did if not more. You had shared things in the past, and whenever you had debated or ‘fought’ over things, it was always light hearted, and never bitter.

“Of course I do, if not now then not ever Clark....” Bruce replied with a brief nod, “Tonight might be the only chance we get.”

Clark nodded slowly for a moment. Yes, he cared for you and had done so for a long time. He was happy that when he asked, you had not acted with shock or revulsion. But you had seemed surprised and hesitant, and he could not blame your for being shy and uncertain.

“What if she says no?” he asked.

Bruce’s eyes darkened, “She will...at first. Are you capable of pushing through that Kent?”

The super man smirked sickly. Of course he could. Clark nodded.

“She is going to be scared,” Bruce replied with certainty as he slowly turned his head towards the stairway out in the hall that led to your wing of the mansion, “I have been expecting this since her mother died, I doubt she remembers that night…”

Clark sighed, “I recall you letting her drink. She was a giggling and crying mess when I carried her to her room to have a nap.”

Bruce curled his lips inward, and he nodded. The silence grew strained.

Clark’s eyes furrowed in curiosity, “Bruce…are you hiding something from me?”

“She…” his friend paused, his grey eyes grew hazed as he looked into the flames, “When you left, I went to check up on her,” he thrummed his fingers on his chin, “She was touching herself Clark... and I caught her and…well…she…” his eyes met the other man again.

Clark sat back in his leather seat, his throat bobbed, “You watched until the end?” the was no judgement merely a question to acknowledge what had happened.

The other man nodded again and continued, “I came in after she finished, she was half out of it. So when I tucked her in, she kissed me…fully…and…god Clark…she- she’s so beautiful, I can’t watch her go off to college.…”

The journalist exhaled and clenched his jaw.

And Bruce sighed, “That’s why my little girl is going to be pregnant tonight.”

Clarks eyes widened, his lips parted hesitantly. That was not in the original plan...He paused and struggled to find the right words. Bruce had given Clark the greatest opportunity and the wrong word would revoke all that granted privilege.

“We both care about you,” the billionaire sucked his teeth, “Forget what the tabloids will say. They are hypocrites with absolutely no moral sense. Afterall mr superman, aren’t you rubbing shoulders at the daily planet, surely you can take care of the backlash? We aren’t blood related and c’mon we have a right to her better than anyone on this cold spinning rock. With my wealth and your muscles, who else would take better care of her? No one else!” Bruce said fiercely, although his voice was a whisper, his eyes narrowed slightly.

Clark found himself frozen in place, his eyes locked on his friend’s face. It took him a moment to process all the emotions and thoughts that surged around inside him. Finally, he managed to nod his head slowly, as he tried to take in the unexpected turn of events.

“Okay Wayne,” his lips broke into a dark chuckle, “Lets go put a baby in our little girl.”

The wooden door your bedroom creaked open slowly. A bit of light from the hallway made its way past Bruce’s bulk form, illuminating his step-daughter’s face. When he whispered your name, you did not stir, and he smiled to himself. He turned around to Clark and nodded. The two of them moved forward stealthily. Bruce carefully slid his arms under the blanket, finding your form before scooping it up. You stirred but did not wake. Bruce carefully carried you to his master bedroom, a place he scarcely let you enter for the obvious reason of what he kept secret in his drawers. Clark shut the doors and locked them, heaven forbid Alfred managed to walk into this event.

It would be more comfortable here for the three of you, and warmer with how Bruce kept an electric fireplace and big flat screen tv on the wall. The flames continued dancing cheerily as Bruce gently laid his step-daughter down, looking at you with a small smile.

Several moments passed before Bruce lowered his hand, gently moving his hand under your nightie chemise, his hot palm over your stomach. The mattress dipped on both sides keeping you balanced. Another set of fingers creeped up your thighs. Since the touches were so gentle, you did not stir so easily. Clark watched silently, his heart pounding as Bruce slowly lifted your hem up showing off a set of fresh underwear he allowed you to buy with the allowance credit card.

A cute pair of cotton white panties with a soft yellow duck print on top of the crotch. Clark swallowed hard. His thumb scarcely brushed over your damp apex. A small wet spot was beginning to spread. You softly cooed, still not awake…surely dreaming of something naughty by what Clark could smell.

Bruce glanced at Clark before looking back at you, and carefully untied the small strings that held the top bust of your nightie closed. His hands were steady as he parted the folds.

And there they laid their eyes on your breasts, Clark had to hold back a loud sharp intake of breath. Your nipples were perfect, and he found himself craving to suckle them. Your nipples hardened slightly as the slight coolness of the air tickled them.

You groaned softly, your eyelids fluttering open. You shifted and rolled over onto your side, looking around in confusion.

‘Where am I? Where’s my cuddle pillow?’

You rubbed your eyes and registered that you were with your step-father and Clark…on Bruce’s bed…. Both men were staring down at you silently, and you gasped when you realised your nightie was open. You held back a shriek and quickly whipped it closed before shoving the hem of your nightie down past your knees.

‘What am I doing out of my bed and with my chest exposed? Why we my nightie up so high? Did they see my underwear?’

Bruce's faint smile and Clark's gentle expression might have brought you ease, but the situation was too strange.

‘Why was my nightie been untied and opened? Why was it so far up my legs? Did one of them do it?’

The idea was...absurd. But what else would have happened? You were not in the habit of sleepwalking. You tied your nightie closed and quickly sat up, looking at the two men.

“I um…Is...something wrong, Dad?” you asked oh so innocent and naively as you sat up, feeling Bruce’s thick blue cotton blankets under your body. Bruce’s large and callused hand gently grasped your upper arm, softly stroking it as if to comfort you. His kind smile stayed on his face, unmoving even as he shook his head. His quiet demeanour continued to soothe you with each moment, despite the overwhelming emotions swirling through your mind.

“Nothing is wrong sweetheart, you-…” he breathed, his other hand caressing your cheek. Your step-father was an affectionate man, giving your mother and you hugs often whenever you wanted them, but in all these years...he had never caressed your cheek like this. His thumb ran softly over your lips intimately.

Briefly turning your head to inspect Clark, you found there was nothing about his body language denoting immediate danger. He even leaned in slightly and rested a hand on your knee, shifting even closer toward you.

You sighed softly in comfort...until he said, “You...Don’t need to be afraid....”

Your eyes widened, “Be afraid of what?” you asked. Like some strange horror, the dotes were slowly connecting. The air around you felt taut. You were confused and even Clark could hear how your heart was beating faster, anxiously. Your lips parted slightly, but what could you say, surely they weren’t going to…were they? Why were they looking at you in that way? Why did they look so...hungry?

Bruce smiled and leaned in, placing a kiss on your forehead directing your attention back to him. Without answering your question, he tilted your chin up and sealed his lips over yours in a gentle kiss, his lips pressing against you in a firm manner.

Your eyes popped wider as you suddenly pulled away from the kiss. While other boys had given you tender kisses before in your youth, none had done it quite as passionately as Bruce, your own step-father. His kiss was gentle yet deep, unlike anything you had experienced before. The sensation of his tongue inside your mouth and the minty flavour of his breath filled your senses, making you feel both awkward and ashamedly excited.

Having predicted the situation, Clark quickly got behind you. You felt his thick toned arms snaked around you in a caging hug, holding you firmly in place. Bruce smiled and put his hands on your hips, leaning in and quickly resuming the contact of your lips. You couldn’t lift your arms to shove him away. Your head was pressed against Clark’s chest, unable to break free although you wiggled about furiously, trying to move to the side.

Clark's arms held you in place firmly, pinning your own arms. His hands were spread across your chest and stomach, while his mouth pressed against the shell of your ear.

“Good girl,” he praised, “Stay nice and still for Daddy and me hm?”

He ducked his nose a deeper and traced his lips along your soft skin, kissing along the shape of it as Bruce deepened his seductive French kissing for a moment before breaking it. You had been unable to break it since his hands cupped your face. A soft whimper escaped your lips as Clark started licking along your earlobe, and you gasped softly when he suddenly blew on the wet trail he had just left.

“Easy baby, you need to calm down… Please,” Clark whispered softly, kissing your neck and ear as Bruce placed light kisses along your cheek.

Your step-father smiled and pinched the front of your nightie down and open just a bit to expose your shoulders and collar bone, which he lavished in more wet kisses.

The attention being given to you by both men were gentle, but the whole situation was frightening to you. You knew you should’ve tried to bite their ears, but how could you harm them? The two men you cared about? The man stroking you was your step-father, how could he want to do this? And more importantly, how could Clark just let it happen?

“Please,” you jerked your head back, fruitless from breaking away from their searing kisses, “Let me go...I need to sleep...” you whimpered softly.

“Sh- shh-hh...” Bruce shushed hotly, suckling gently upon the part where your neck met your shoulder. The skin there was sensitive, and you gave a soft cry when you felt him nip gently.

“... D-dad, Clark I-, please...don’t” you whimpered. You turned your head to look up at Clark, looking for an answer. Clark merely gave you that warm, wide smile and captured your lips, closing his eyes as he kissed you with a gentle passion.

Your lashes fluttered, his lips were soft and he was not nearly as forceful as Bruce. He coaxed you to comply. The tiniest of moans left your mouth and filled his.

You shifted again as your step-father worked at your nightie, tugging it open some more. You gave out a weak mewl when Clark broke the kiss. You trembled under Bruce’s dancing fingers.

“Did- did I do something wrong? Why are you doing this to me?” you asked, the corners of your eyes watered. Had your step-father been expecting you to say ‘yes’ to Clark? Was he mad at you? Why was he also here kissing you like this?

This was your own step-father, the man who had raised you since you were fourteen. The man that had married and fucked your own mother. The betrayal felt like a deep and sharp cut. Is this how he saw you? Just some girl he could manipulate when she was of consenting age? You felt sick...and angry. It was practically incest, it was an abomination!

You could barely contain the whimpers and spurting tears rising.

Your question was ignored as the two men made short work of your entire dress, two pairs of hands removing it while keeping your restrained. You could barely contain your squeals when the fabric ripped. Bruce grunted as he tore through and tugged the damn thing from your goosebump skin.

Clark's hands caressed your belly while Bruce's moved to cup your breasts.

Bruce gave a shuddering breath and weighed them in his hands. They were so soft and succulent. He had dreamed of doing this to you many times, for so long during your sweet innocent hugs he’d sneakily brush his fingers against your chest whenever he could to steal and imagine how great your tits would one-day feel in his hands.

All of his expectations were met, and exceeded. And there was still more to see, to explore.

“Please, tell me! Why!?” you demanded. Clark's grip on your arms were gentle but very firm, and you could not scratch either of them. Bruce smiled at you fondly. He cupped your cheeks again and cooed.

“You have done absolutely nothing wrong babygirl. This isn't a punishment. See... We both want you to know how much we love you,” his face leant for and licked at your salty cheek.

“And it’s not like you have a good reason to say no to Daddy and I.” Clark whispered while Bruce fondled your breasts, pinching the hard nipples between his fingertips in a careful way. Clark peered down at what his friend was doing and observed your soft breasts. He was eager for his own turn to feel them, but he was not going to rush his friend. They had agreed to share and be fair about it, and he knew Bruce was a man of his word.

“… No good reason to say no?” you asked, your heart pounding, although your question was barely more than a whisper. They both nodded. Clark smiled and kissed your cheek before touching his nose against it in a loving nuzzle.

He cupped and massaged one breast, giving a brief nod to his friend before shifting his eyes towards your other breast.

Clark moved one hand and took your right breast, which Bruce had offered, and began to fondle it while Bruce played with your left one. Bruce was firmer in his kneading, and Clark was gentle as his fingers skimmed along the underside of the mound, as if he was afraid of hurting you. Both hands felt so good on you, and you squirmed around, afraid to submit to any pleasure from this shocking situation.

“Please... please, let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone about this, not even Alfred, please let me go now. Let me go. Leave me alone! I'm your step-daughter! Bruce! Y-you’re meant to be my Dad!” you pleaded, trying to get through to your step-father as he gave your breast a very firm, although not painful squeeze.

Bruce chewed his bottom lip and moved away. He got off the bed and watched his best friend touch you. He tugged at his tie and unbuttoned his blouse. His chest was covered in dark and silvery hairs. He fiddled with his belt buckle. His trousers fell to his ankles. His hand dove into his briefs.

Your eyes flooded with more tears. You were staring at Bruce’s erection.

“Come on princess...You know we won’t hurt you. Ever... Don’t be scared, relax, enjoy and be a good little girl…” Bruce said softly, climbing back on the bed he reached out and started caressing your arms.

You couldn’t help it, you screamed and tried to kick your step-father away with your legs as hard as you could. You hated that you had to hurt him like this. Clarks heavy hand clamped down on your squealing mouth

Bruce shook his head, slapping your kicking heels away. His lips curled into a mean sneer as he leant forward and tweaked your nipples, sending a jolt of pain through your chest.

You yelled out behind Clarks hand, trying to bite down on his palm. He didn’t flinch once. His nose flared, he was a little irritated with your teeth sinking into his skin.

“Better stop screaming sweetheart or Daddy’s going to have to put a gag in that little mouth of yours,” Bruce ground between his gritted teeth.

Your pleas were not doing the trick, and your desperate kicks weren’t either. They both played with your breasts and Bruce chuckled, drawing your nipple into his mouth and sucking firmly on the hard nub.

Clark bodily drifted his hand down between your legs, touching your duckling and creeping down further to your damp crotch. His fingers strong and hard, lazily rubbed in circles. Both of them seemed acutely aware of the pleasure that you were feeling at their attention even as you pleaded with them and tried to deny it. It only spurred them on and made them want your more.

“Daddy, stop it!” you wailed, “This is wrong and you know it too Clark!” you flung yourself backwards and tried to push the other male off you.

The man let your nipple free and looked into you's eyes. It had been so long since you had called him 'Daddy', having abandoned it for 'Dad' or just 'Bruce' in later years.

“Pumpkin…” he said, grabbing your wrists, giving Clark enough time to move away. Bruce pushed you back hard onto the mattress and sat on your ankles, holding your wrists down as he clouded you in his body. He hovered above you. You trembled violently, weeping hard.

“This is going to happen, and there’s nothing you can do or say to stop it,” his head lifted, “You finished stripping Clark?” he asked.

Your eyes flashed up. Your point of you made the world appear upside down. Clark sat his glasses on the bed side table...it was the last thing he wore.

“Bottom drawer, there’s a roll of duct tape.”

Clark nodded and pulled it out. The colour surprised him ...it was pink. Clark planned to use it on you one way or another, no matter what

Bruce trailed his nose across your face and pressed his lips to your forehead, “Trust your Daddy. Have I ever done anything to you that proved harmful?” Bruce asked softly, his blue eyes filled with a pleading for your understanding. You fell silent as you slowly shook your head whimpering and breaking down at the tearing sound of the pink duct tape. Bruce pushed your wrists together. The sticky sensation bound around your wrists tightly. He had always been such a loving step-father. But this went past the bounds of a step-father.

“No... b-bu-tt this-s... we're n-not...d-daddy, y-youre meant to be m-m-my dad-daddy...” Your voice was breaking, a soft pathetic whine as you pleaded, “Clar-k h-elp me.”

Bruce’s eyes glanced up at Clark. A tiny nod. Another rip and the tape was pushed flat against your sobbing mouth.

Clark rejoined you both on the bed and held your hands down for Bruce as the man bent down taking your nipple into his mouth again, his tongue rubbing it firmly as he suckled. A chest rattling gasp was muffled behind the tape.

Clark held you, massaging your other breast. You started to feel the fiery tingle between your legs. You were a virgin, but you were not stupid, and had touched that special place before...shame filled your mind because truly how much of a monster were you for being aroused by... your own step-father?

Despite the pleasure, you were afraid. You wiggled against Clark, twisting your arms and whining softly.

Clark's hands were gentle yet firm, and he held you in place even as you twisted. He moaned softly against your neck, and you felt the underside of his arousal along side Bruce’s, both touching the outsides of your thighs.

"Bruce...I need her,” he whispered, “Let me fuck your precious princess?”

The older man corrected softly humming, “Our precious princess.”

The two strong men lifted you up slightly from your laying down. You tried weakly kicked at them again before feeling Bruce slap the inside of your thigh and point a stern finger at your face.

“Enough. Don’t make me throw you over my knee babygirl.”

You sniffled and started to hiccup behind the tape gag. The tiny jerks from your body every time you hiccupped made the men’s faces soften.

You were forced to sit up on your knees and lay forward against Bruce’s chest. When Clark tugged your hips backwards, your bum was angled to the sky while your stomach laid in Bruce’s lap, your legs at either side of his torso. This caused your chest to be nestled into Bruce's lap, your breasts pressed against the hard hot flesh of his cock. You were effectively sandwiched between them, and wiggled around, trying to not think about your step father’s cock touching your nipple and switching against your skin.

His large hands touched your shoulders and laid it on your head, patting your hair softly. Clark's hands were at your rear, rubbing and kneading the cheeks and parting them slightly as he felt the pert rump. A soft playful spank made you jump and whine. You started sobbing again, wiggling against the firm grip of your step-father as he tried to soothe you. One of Bruce's hands cupped his cock and rubbed his precum into your swollen nipples.

You tried to kick at Clark as you felt his hands on the waistband of your panties, and you turned your face away from your step-father's throbbing erection that Bruce was raising to rub along your wet salty cheek. You tried to use your hands as leverage.

How was you supposed to get out of this situation? It was clear what they wanted to do and also clear that they would not be deterred. The combined forces of two fully-grown men, strong super humans at that, against that of a young woman, was quite overwhelming. They were not letting your go, and that was that. Bruce chuckled as Clark slid his step-daughter's panties down, exposing your pert ass. Clarks mouth looked dry...his tongue flicked out.

It was rather a lovely sight for Clark, and he sighed contentedly as he reached down to stroke your lower lips. You moaned softly, you used your knees to get away and to launch yourself up Bruce’s body. You managed to bury your face against your step-father's chest and the crease of his armour as you felt Clarks hot breath along your little glistening slit.

Soon Clark's fingers rose up to pet your wet pussy. He caressed the throbbing mound gently, fingers slowly pulling apart your slick nether lips. With one arm, he hooked it under your stomach and lifted your hips, forcing you back up higher on your knees. This allowed him to see your womanhood more clearly.

“How's it look?” Bruce asked calmly, stroking your hair and back in an attempt to soothe you, forgetting his own throbbing arousal for the moment as he tried to quieten your sobs.

“Ohh, Bruce, our little girl is so perfect,” he moaned, grinning as he gently felt your inner flesh with a finger. Your inner flesh peeked out shyly from your outer lips, like the petals of a flower. Bruce could not help but chuckle at Clark’s response as he ran his fingers along your spine, feeling your twitch and hearing a soft shudder come from the tape gag. He pressed his lips to your brow and hummed.

“Yea darlin’,” he broke into his relaxed southern drawl, “You goin’ tell daddy about how you probably used his credit card to wax this pretty pussy?”

Bruce’s eyes widened. His jaw dropped as he looked down at your eyes, pleading up at him wetly.

“It’s a real sculpted love heart...now who on earth is this for huh? Only little sluts get groomed like this,” Clark sat up and leant of you and Bruce. His lips pressed to the corner of your tapped lips, “Are you a little slut baby girl.”

Muffled sobs emanated from the girl as you pressed your face against your step-father’s chest and Clark paused. The men exchanged smirks.

“Have you let some boy fuck this cute hole Baby girl?” Clark breathed, softly, a mocking tone to his voice. He touched your side with his free hand, the other remaining at your mound but being idle, the finger now pulled out. Bruce looked down and gently tilted his step-daughter's chin up to look into your eyes. You looked very lovely with tear-stained cheeks, you had never looked more beautiful his eyes. His hand slowly ran along your cheeks, wiping your tears as he looked down at your tenderly.

“Sweetheart...My lovely little girl. You’re not in trouble, tell us the truth...” he said, softly, caressing your face. Clark bit his lip gently and resumed stroking your rear and your thighs, soon going back to rubbing your hot folds. There was no denying the pleasure, and he felt wetness.

You whimpered softly as you shook your head no while you succumbed under the gentle assault of four hands, all caressing and touching you in the most intimate and gentle of ways.

It was strange, they were not supposed to be doing this and you had been trying to fight them off. And despite all the fear, despite all the rough man handling, despite their mean mockery and degrading humiliation...your groin felt alive....You felt good,

You glanced back over your shoulder at Clark. He met your eyes and smiled. He pressed his lips to your forehead while his fingers were stroking and rubbing your intimate areas in a way that caused your to become wetter.

You hadn’t noticed how your crying was being replaced by snotty sniffling, and mewling moans.

Bruce smiled down at you when you turned your head back to him.

You felt his hand cup your bicep, pulling your bound hands up. You stretched your fingers. He held up his erection and pointed it to your palms

“Touch me baby,” he encouraged softly, “I trust you.”

You whimpered softly and shook your head, giving a sudden gasp with wide eyes as one of Clark’s fingers wiggled into you.

“Please...?” he purred lowly, smiling as Clark pressed second one inside and slowly scissor your insides. You let out a low shuddering moan as your step-father gently grasped your wrist, leading your hand to the swollen cock. Clark continued sliding his fingers in and out of you, before adding a third. Your walls clamped and tightened. You let out a soft hiss and were unable to stop yourself from pushing against Clark’s hand. The man then angled his fingers as he thrust them in slowly, causing them to press against a spongy place on your inner wall that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

Bruce smiled, his hand cupping over your bound hands so you were forced to grasp the base of his erection. You tried to remove your hand – but of course, to no avail. His thick rod was very warm and solid, you made a small noise as you felt it throb under your hand. You squirmed slightly under Clark’s attention, finding it difficult to breathe as a wave of pleasure washed over you.

Clark peppered a flood of gentle kisses along your soft cheeks as he thrust his fingers into you. Your step-father released a soft moan.

Your hand tightened and rubbed your step-fathers shaft weakily. Your shuddering breaths and fluttering eyes told Bruce everything he need to know about how well Clark was treating their special girl.

Your fingers slowly slid up and down the shaft several times, before you wrapped your fingers around it more firmly and did just as he guided, pumping it slowly and seeing the head seep with a bit more precum. His head tilted back a bit and he gave a low groan of pleasure. You looked up at him and saw how much he liked it, then whimpered, it was so strange how you could have the power all of a sudden. Curiosity, getting the best of you as you looked down at it. It was impressive-looking, and you were becoming slowly bemused to think that he wanted to put this in you.

You pumped more firmly, looking up at your step-father's face intently. He was no longer holding your down, so you pulled herself up just a bit, Clarks fingers followed you as you weakly tried balancing up and off Bruce’s chest. You continued your firm pumping of your step-father's engorged member. Now the taboo excitement of watching him moan and dig his nails into the bed sheets made you conclude that you were getting a thrill out of all this. It made you wonder if there was something wrong with you just as much as there was something wrong with him.

At fourteen, who could deny that little sweet highschooler you had a big crush on your step dad before it developed into crushing on his journalist friend Clark Kent, the very man with three digits up your sweet silky hole.

It was time. You could definitely not ignore the pleasure you felt from Clark, who was working slowly and tenderly at your throbbing sex.

You whined, arching your hips, your toes curling and flexing, something Clark found cute. He chuckled to himself, trailing his free hand along the back of one of your thighs.

Bruce’s hand rose up and grabbed your wrists, he pulled them away to gently stop you. He knew he wanted to cum inside of you.

You looked up at him in surprise and your eyebrows furrowed in curiosity, seeing him smiling kindly at you. Bruce pressed his lips against your forehead and chuckled.

“Are you trying to be a good girl now?” he asked touching the corner of the tape on your mouth.

You sniffled and nodded, moaning when Clark pulled his fingers out to trail down and rub into your pearlling clit.

He smiled, “Alright,” he whispered, “This is going to hurt-“ he said ripping off the tape before he finished his own sentence.

You yelped and hissed.

“Sorry baby girl,” he apologised.

Bruce then leant back against the pillows and watched you succumb to pleasure from Clarks speedy fingers. Your bound hands laid flat on Bruce’s chest, steading you from falling. Your fingers brushed and rubbed along his hairy chest.

Bruce cupped your waist and held you firm as he gazed at you showing your curious exploration. It was then he realised, you were touching some of his scars, covered by hair. Your eyes were growing softer...glassy...he couldn’t believe his luck...you looked the same as you did when you kissed him after your mothers death. If only he knew this was some sort of trance, a head space you were in all those years ago, he would’ve fucked you then.

Clark slid his fingers out of your and licked them clean. The pair, rolled you over onto your back.

You calmly glanced back at your step-father for a moment before returning your attention to the taller man, who was in a similar state of arousal as your step-father.

“My sweet little girl...” Bruce purred before kissing you deeply, his lips locking around yours passionately. Finally you found yourself leaning closer and meeting his same force. The wet sounds of your mouth and moans clouded any remaining sanity left in your mind. Your bound arms found their way around his neck, and he continued kissing you.

Clark waited patiently, knowing that he would have the soon enough, and watched as his friend lovingly cradled his step-daughter, continuing the hungry attentions. You were unable to resist kissing him back just as fiercely.

Soon your tongues came into the dance, with Bruce quickly gaining dominance, a sweet whine escaping you.

Clark smiled, and began to rub his shaft slightly. Bruce pulled away and pushed your bound hands off his neck. He shuffled your face to the side, pushing you to Clarks arms.

With bold confidence, you pushed up onto your knees and laid your loud hands behind his neck, pressing your lips to his. He playfully growled as your tongues fought, you lost and he hummed happily, eagerly exploring your sweet little mouth, his arms tightening around your body.

After a few more long moments of the passionate kiss, he broke it before licking up the strand of saliva that bridged your panting tongues. He grinned at you. You smiled and stared at him for a moment before looking down shyly. He saw this demure action and smirked.

“What’s wrong princess, still scared?” he asked softly, nuzzling your cheek. You continued looking down shyly. You had thought of asking Bruce who was watching you both, what your mother would have thought of what he was doing to his step-daughter, but you had no doubt that he had already thought of that.

Bruce cupped your waist and lowered his lips to your shoulders. His erection pushed against the swell of your ass.

Carefully you were pushed back onto the mattress. Bruce came up to put your head in his lap, languidly stroking your hair and cheeks as Clark rubbed your thighs. The man you had admired for so long spread them, eyeing your shuddering sex hungrily. Your body froze up, stiffening as it sunk in what was truly coming you squirmed around, pressing your knees together. You looked up at Clark pleadingly.

He sighed, disappointed. He leant behind him, reaching for the duct tape....was he going to duct tape your legs spread wide.

You panicked, “Are you doing this because I did not accept your marriage offer?”

“No.” he paused and didn’t grab the tape at all. He leant down and softly, kissed your lips chastely. Bruce leant down sand cupped the back of your knees, pulling them up and spreading them wide.

You shivered.

Clark touched your cunt gently and spread you open again. His face pushed forward, leaning in and licked from the bottom to the top of your slit. You had a sharp gasping intake as you felt the gentle licking there and you pushed his head away gently. Clark leaned back in and continued to lick you, lapping at the sweet wet with his thick tongue, resisting as you pushed at his head – although your pushes were fairly weak.

“You’re not being punished,” Bruce repeatedly assured you as if he read your mind, stroking your cheeks. Clark continued to lap at you.

“We just both think this would be a bit of....encouragement for you to stay baby,” Bruce purred, tweaking one of your nipples playfully.

You grizzled, “To st-stay?” your hips jerked a little as Clark sucked harder on your clit, your legs still held wide open by Bruce’s strong hands.

“Honey,” Clark murmured into your cunt, staring up at you with eyes that were mixed with lust, adoration and worship, “You don’t need to go to college when you have me and your daddy to heel you happy.”

Your voice caught in your throat, you couldn’t believe it...this was why? To keep you away from going to school? You bit your bottom lip. You would’ve been devastatingly hurt but with his tongue slipping inside and licking deep into your whole, you tossed your head backwards onto Bruce’s shoulder, crying out as a orgasm waved through your body.

“Clark, you can take her first,” Bruce softly granted.

“We can look at that sweet asshole another day and then,” your step father licked the shell of your ears whispering, “You’ll be allowed to fuck two big cocks at once down there.”

Clark got on his knees between your legs and Bruce steadied you, taking your hands into his own and squeezing them reassuringly before he let go. His large hands massaged your breasts, and reached down to rub your clit slowky as you felt Clark position himself, gently rubbing your slit with his tip. It had opened up to him through all of the loving attention, and was glistening with wetness.

Your eyes widened.

“Don’t… we shouldn’t…” you whispered, “Y-youre not wearing a condom.”

Bruce’s hands tightened around your wrists and lifted them pulling them backward to hook on his own neck. Your chest was so pushed up.

“It’s okay baby, we don’t need a condom,” Clark moaned, caressing your cheeks before his hands travelled down to your sides. He smiled kindly at you, and you found herself smiling back faintly, looking into his ice-blue eyes. You shivered as he slowly lowered himself, and the head of his cock gently nudged at your slit. You tensed a little, but felt your step-father massage your clit.

You gasped and arched a little when Clark penetrated you, and your step-father continued stroking you in a languid yet firm manner, his touches did much to soothe the passage and help you relax. You looked up at your Bruce for a moment, then back at Clark. Bruce tenderly caressed your cheeks and arms, while Clark's hands stroked along your sides. He was moving slowly, letting your get used to his girth, for he was almost as thick as his best friend. The wetness made it possible for him to move quite smoothly within you, and it was also so inviting.

It was tight and yes it was uncomfortable but with the support of Bruce’s hand, in no time, he was sheathed fully, and you stared up at him quietly feeling his balls pressed into your soft ass. He was heavy inside you, an unexpected pressure. The tip poked the sponge of your womb.

There was a few frightful seconds where all of you were silent save for your soft breathing. Bruce glanced at the tape, prepared to hear your screaming again...but it didnt come. And then Clark smiled lovingly down at you, comforting you at that moment, before leaning in and kissing your cheek.

“How do you feel?” he asked. You shyly huffed even more, but kept your eyes on him. You couldn’t decide whether to smile or grimace.

“I don't know. I... feel very full...” you replied softly, feeling Bruce’s fingers brush along your forehead.

Clark lifted your ankles up onto his shoulders and took a deep breath.

“The best part is yet to come, my sweet angel,” Bruce promised. Clark smiled, and began to gyrate his hips, sliding his shaft in and out of your tight cunt in a languid manner. The reaction was immediate. His cock dragged along your sensitive walls, and Bruce smiled as he watched his sweet little step-daughter squirm around in pleasure. Soon enough, he himself would be doing that to you.

Clark released a deep groan, clearly in bliss as he thrust into you. His speed was tempered and gentle, languorous, making sure that the length of his dick dragged along your gspot with each thrust to create that glorious friction. He wanted your first time to be something deep and tender. And it was working. You hissed and flexed your back into Bruce feeling Clarks entire cock within you as you clenched hard. It had hurt a little at first, but there was no denying the pleasure to be had, and the gentle caresses were doing much to heighten your experience.

“Sh-shit shit shit, oh my god, Clark! Clark I’m-”

Clarks gentle lovemaking pushed you towards your glorious shouting orgasm, and you cried out when you hit it, arching up against him, clenching around him almost painfully. You had ever felt anything so wonderful in your whole life! Bruce smiled as he saw this, and leaned down to place kisses along his mewling step-daughter’s face, massaging your breasts as he did so.

“Isn’t it wonderful, babygirl? Doesn’t it feel so good?” Bruce asked warmly. All you could do was nod. Clark shot you a charming smile, thrusting more firmly now, and he whispered your name when he finally came. Your clenching drew it out, and multiple shots of his seed squirted deep inside of you, filling your up.

Clark placed firm kisses along your face, remaining within your hot pussy for a few more moments. You turned your face towards him, nuzzling him back, as your lips peppered his cheeks, Clark started grinning happily. A few moments passed, some tender caresses, before Bruce chuckled and shifted. Clark looked up at him and smiled, sliding out of you a little too quickly. You whimpered pitifully at the stinging sensation of being emptied.

Clark laid beside you on his side as Bruce moved down the bed to inspect the mess his friend had created. Clark kept his eyes on you, he shot you another reassuring smile before propping your head up with his arm. He laid there relaxed and enjoying the waving endorphins made from his orgasm, still reeling from the pleasure that your sweet noises and tight pussy had given him.

Bruce gently rolled you onto your belly. Your cheek still pressed into the pillow made of Clarks bicep.

“On your knees, baby, stick that ass up for Daddy…” Bruce whispered. You huffed and wiggled your hips up, propping you up on your knees. It was a lovely sight, and he rubbed your behind, kneading the cheeks lovingly as he glanced at your swollen and glistening sex.

“Good girl,” he rumbled, patting your back softly.

You moaned softly, knowing what your step-father was about to do. At this point, you had given up on fighting off the two men, especially because it felt so good. You rested your head against Clark and sighed, staring at his eyes that gazed you lovingly. With is other hand, Clark stroked your face and hair softly as you awaited for your step-father to take you, your heart thundered with anticipation.

Bruce took a moment to admire the glorious vision before him. Your sweet pussy glistened, dripping and dribbling out the creamy white Clark had squirted deep inside. Your outer lips were swollen from the recent coupling you had. Your rear end glowed under the light of the bedroom lamp, looking so plump and inviting.

“You’re so gorgeous, princess. How Clark and I resisted you for this long, god only knows,” Bruce chuckled and rubbed your bum.

You gave out a soft but contented sigh before he was pressing the head of his needy pole against his your slit, rubbing it up and down the opening a few times. You moaned softly and squirmed a little, but made no real attempt to flee.

Bruce grabbed your hips and gave a strong thrust, his cock sliding inside of you to the base with little effort despite your tightness. You whimpered out softly, in slight pain but more in surprise, and looked over your shoulder at your Step-father again.

Clark wolfishly grinned at you, as Bruce’s hips immediately thrusting back and forth. He pounded into you, hard and fast, your body quivering under him.

Clark’s lovemaking had been languorous and gentle, more than suitable for your first time. But Bruce’s way of taking you was savage and primal. Despite it...you found yourself enjoying this as well. It was rough and deeply bruising. You would be able to feel it tomorrow.

Bruce was not hurting you, it was not unbearable agony as he slammed his hips fiercely. Clark watched with half-lidded eyes, listening to your whines and touching your face every now and then as if to reassure you.

Bruce punched his cock into you with the ferocity of an animal in heat. You were so wonderfully tight and hot that it was impossible to just hold back.

“F-Fuck, Daddy!!!”

The way you responded to him, arching towards him and making small sounds of pleasure and mewls of pain only spurred him on even more. His heavy balls slapped against the back of your thighs, and you strangled around him with your walls. He gave out a low growl as he cummed, creaming deep inside.

You whimpered out another heightened, ‘Daddy!’ as your body quivered, your teeth chattering just slightly.

You bit your lip almost hard enough to cause it to bleed as you hit another orgasm, your eyes rolled back and clenching around him hard, trapping his cock inside with your tightness.

You looked at your step-father over your shoulder as he continued thrusting in you, his cock remained erect for a few moments before slowly becoming flaccid. You looked over at Clark then back at Bruce, whimpering out 'Daddy' again as you felt cum dribble down your opening. He stayed within your cunt for a while, panting as he relaxed his muscles. Smirking, he pulled out of your tightness and stroked your rump.

“Good girl baby...”

You remained on your knees for several more moments, cum still dribbling out a little as he traced his fingers along the firm curve of your rear end. What you had been through was unbelievable. You had just been dominated and fucked by the two men you cared most about in the world...one of them was your step-father. It seemed almost too impossible to believe, like it all had to been some sick dream- any moment you would wake up to find yourself alone, dressed, inside your own bed....But did you want this to be a dream?

The more you thought, the less sick it seemed to be...morally it was wrong...but at the end of the day, you weren’t related and Bruce was sure to take care of you just like he always had along with your own mother. Your mother might not have approved if she was alive...but...there was nothing she could do now.

And Clark was just as caring and understanding of your passions....So both clearly loved you, very much....

You felt Clark caress your cheek once more, and you looked to him as your hips fell down limp. He offered you a smile before leaning over to press his lips to your forehead.

“You did so well darlin’.”

You shyly smiled, feeling Bruce lay down behind you.

You felt Bruce slide something cold between your wrists and slice through the pink tape.

Your eyes fluttered. You could hear Bruce put that sharp object most likely a knife in his bed side drawer.

He cupped your wrists and gently massaged them, kissing the raw area. He then scooped you up into his arms, holding you close, as if he wanted to rock you to sleep. You rolled onto your back and looked between them. They were two content lions gazing down at the sweet kitten in their bed. Both of them held pleased but loving expressions on their faces, and you smiled shyly a little and buried your nose in into the blue sweat soaked sheets. Under the gentle embrace and caresses, you closed your eyes.

You felt one of them, you didn’t know or care who, pull up a duvet, covering your quivering body. The men sighed happily at one another as you snuggled sweetly between them.

It was a fact to acknowledge with their cum growing dry on your thighs how they now would never let you go. They would take you in the morning, and whenever either of them pleased from then on. You were there’s...you belonged to them, and they would always do everything to prove their desire for you. You fell asleep in their embrace, you pressed your face into Clarks chest, while you pressed your backside into Bruce’s hips. snuggled up to both of them, while their affectionate caresses and whispers lulled you to sleep.

★★★

When morning arrived it was still pitch black thanks to the roll down tinted glass windows.

Bruce’s grey his eyes cracked awake slowly, to the sounds of your soft snoring. Your soft cheek was pressed against his chest after the night of shuffling you must’ve done in your sleep. ‘What a wonderfully sweet thing to wake up to,’ he thought, smiling as he traced his fingertips gently along your other cheek. He looked to his left at the big bulk of a man under the covers.

Clark was still sleeping, his arm was covering your hip. Your plump rear end was against his stomach, and Bruce smiled at you both.

Your sweet drooling face stirred slightly as your cheek was caressed, but you remained asleep. Being cushioned and cradled in the warmth of two big men had surprisingly helped you to sleep well, as you had been so comforted by the obvious affection they had shown you. If they didn’t care about you, they would have simply raped you bloody and never paid mind to your pleasure they never would’ve focused on your feelings and overall care.

Clark loved you and wanted to be your husband, he had been serious when he asked for your hand in marriage. It was in the plan but Bruce knew Clark wanted to ask ages ago...

And Bruce loved you too, he wanted your utmost happiness but he desired your overall safety and company. If you left for college he wouldn’t know when he’d see you again...if ever...considering you held no real “blood” obligation to him.

Clark and he were good friends, and sharing you had been a odd thought at first, but last night proved that it would work out well between the three of you. And it was very comfortable, and would continue to be comfortable – after all, both of them wanted your happiness, love and companionship.

Bruce pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Wake up, baby girl, it’s daddy...” he whispered into your ear, gently nibbling along your earlobe. Your eyelids fluttered open and you whimpered softly, a bit disoriented at first as was common on waking up in a place so different to your bedroom but the disorientation faded as you rubbed your eyes and turned your head upwards a bit to look up at the eyes of your doting step-father smiling softly down at you.

“Good morning, Daddy...” you said softly, wiping the sleep away from your eyes and blinking a few times as you felt a hand caress along your hip, you didn’t know who it belonged to, but did that even matter?

“Good morning, sweet angel... Did you sleep alright?” he asked, caressing your hair. Clark stirred but did not wake. You shyly nodded. Last night was beyond taboo and though you were not entirely angry or disgusted, it would take a bit getting used to.

“I am glad...” Bruce replied before he chuckled softly and fondled your side. He looked over at Clark and smiled.

“...Will you marry him?” he whispered, kissing your cheek. You stared at him for a few moments before nodding slowly. You did not see why not – Clark was a good man and you had no interest in anyone else.

Bruce nodded, smiling happily. He was ecstatic that you had accepted Clark’s hand, and now you would be truly a family inside Wayne’s manor.

“What about you, Daddy?” you asked softly as your step-father’s hand gently caressed your side, “....Don’t you want me anymore,” your eyes glanced away in embarrassment considering how pathetic you sounded asking....

“Mmm,” he pecked the tip of your nose, “Clark and I already discussed this...I would like to keep our closeness when you are wed... Clark and I have shared many passions in the past...towards each other and it does not bother him.”

Your eyes started to widen. You didn’t know your step-dad was just as sexually active with men.

“He really agrees to this? You two... have no problem with... sharing?” you whispered as you rolled over onto your back to gain a more accurate gaze upon Bruce.

“Not at all...” he chuckled, “We are too good a pair of friends to fight over something wonderful like this as spectacular as you.” He stated.

You smiled and looked down shyly. He looked over at Clark once more and smirked almost deviously.

He reached out and playfully thumbed your nipples.

“Baby girl, it looks like Clark is a heavy sleeper...how about you go and wake him up for me?” His tone was seductive, and low. You could see from the corner of your eyes the two hardening peaks growing out of the bed sheets.

Bruce pushed his side down and cupped himself, using his enclosed first like a sight hole.

“C’mon baby, go wake up your other daddy,” he groaned.

You gasped and flushed even more as you stated at your step-father for several moments before carefully crawling over to Clark again.

You placed a gentle kisses along his face, saving his lips for last. Your hand caressed along his smooth chest, slowly making its way down to his morning organ. His nipples were given attention, your fingers teasing over the pink nubs and making them taut. Your palm felt along the toned muscles of his abdomen, and stroked the coarse dark hair above his cock, teasing your fingers along the treasure trail. The thin hairs had started as a thin, tapering line several inches below his navel, and spread out gradually to the thatch over his cock.

Bruce watched calmly, not at all bothered by his friend’s nakedness. He did not stare at Clark either, he just watched with interest at what you, his step-daughter was doing. You had such a lovely soft hand. You slowly patted the neither hairs as you started sucking on Clark’s angry red tip.

You flattened your tongue and looked over, making full eye contact with Bruce While he jerked off languishingly. He smirked and winked at you.

“Suck his cock babygirl, suck Papa’s cock.”

Papa...Daddy...oh god...what were you getting yourself into.

You leant your face down, filling your cheeks with the tip of his pink cock tip. Your tongue raised around the skin and flicked under the folds. You tried not to think about the smell but the taste alone. It was bitter, salty and a little tangy.

“M-mmh...” Clark let out a soft noise of pleasure, face blissfully slack. His manhood stirred and began to rise a bit, the touches arousing him even when he slept.

“Clarkkkkk...” Bruce cooed in a soft purr, gently touching his shoulder while you lapped at his foreskin, and Bruce started growing aroused, wanting to stick himself inside of you as he had a grand view of your little cunt, dried with flakes of white on your skin.

At the mention of his name, the man stirred and opened his eyes, smiling a bit, raising a hand to lazily wipe the sleep from his eyes.

“A-ah...Good morning...” he said, blurrily looking down at what you were doing. You smiled sweetly and placed a gentle kiss on his tip as you brought him to full attention.

“Clark?” you asked softly.

“Yes sweetheart?...hngh...” he shuddered, shifting a bit, his cock rising further. Bruce shivered, running his fingertips along your rear.

“I will be your wife,” You whispered softly. He tilted his head, and a wide grin came to his face. Hooking one arm around your arm he tugged you up to him to abandon you morning blowjob. He sealed his lips over yours in a gentle kiss. When you parted, he purred.

“Thank you sweet girl, I vow to always cherish you like last night and every encounter we’ve met.” His words made you giggle happily, as you had no real doubt of his respect for you.

He heard the fwapping sound of Bruce masturbating, watching you.

“Have you talked Bruce?” he added.

Your lashes fluttered.

“I accept him as well. I...I will stay home. College can wait or I can try online courses...You can both have me,” You whispered. Bruce ran a fingertip along your slit. You shivered and moaned, wiggling your rear end at Bruce as you kissed Clark again, your hand returned to slowly pumping his engorged organ.

Bruce smiled, he rubbed your slit gently and lazily, feeling the flesh quiver a bit and begin to slicken up. Clark moaned softly into your lips and his hand moved down, cupping one of your breasts and carefully kneading it, plucking at your nipples. You gave out a soft whine of pleasure and looked at Clark for a moment before looking back at Bruce.

“Daddy...” You pouted, “...stop teasing me.” You reached out to his cock with your other hand. In each palm you held two thick cocks at the same time and went about squeezing and licking them like a game....unwittingly teasing them both to release. The men both gradually sat up on their elbows. Before either of them could cum however, you let their cocks go and sat back, facing them with a childish smirk, biting your lip.

If they wanted to be depraved, you could be too...you wondered if they’d tie and gag you again. Would they pushed you around manhandle and humiliate you again?...a real sensational thrill soaked your bones at the thought. What a fantastic opportunity to test that theory...

You didn’t leave that room for probably three whole days except to use the master bathroom...

Alfred decided not to intervene.. after all it was Master Wayne he was paid by, not you.

[ciderjacks]

and actually like does anyone else notice how any other bigoted comment that gets called out is like, something mildly insensitive or close minded, but for a sexist comment to be called out it has to be some dude saying something like "I think all women should go back to being second class citizens also if i could I would murder every bitch i see. males are biologically superior, the only use a female has is being bred to make more men." and even then EVEN THEN its like "yeah this comment is pretty sexist...and worse is it also holds some pretty racist and transphobic implications!" like explain that to me rq. y'all never Layer shit when its any other form of bigotry, you understand that just being racist/homophobic/transphobic/whatever else is already bad on its own.

like im not saying other forms of bigotry are less serious, what im saying is that sexism is the only one you guys let get this bad before even acknowledging it! have the same standards with sexism that you'd have with anything else! if you wouldnt tolerate something if it was about any other marginalized group, why are you tolerating it when its about women??

maybe its because properly acknowledging sexism means having to realize how many things you like are bigoted...How many people you look up to are bigots.

it’s odd how with every other kind of bigotry, when a famous person is called out its usually over like. a few shitty tweets from 2014. But when it comes to misogyny/sexism it’s always like “yeah uh so he sex trafficked multiple underage women, killed his girlfriend, and raped his elderly mother. He’s been openly saying he hates women for years now and his whole platform is about hating women, but we sort of thought it was funny so we didn’t pay attention to it. Oops! He is still sort of funny though haha” And the guy still gets more sympathy than an otherwise harmless celeb who made a homophobic joke on Twitter at age 12.

[b14augrana]

Ad Astra Per Aspera

Everything is still inconclusive

Alexia Putellas x teen!reader

pt. 4 masterlist

Warnings: this story contains depictions of alcoholism, adultery, and familial issues. read at your own discretion.

A/N: part 3 is here! i was flat out of ideas for a good week or so but i’m actually really happy with this chapter and how much i managed to write. i hope you enjoy 🫶🏼

Vicky invited you to her home to talk.

“Just around this corner,” she said, pointing to a street. She was sitting in the passenger seat of your car while your siblings sat in the backseat. Vicky still lived with her parents, as you expected, because she was still too young to buy a place of her own. It was a nice house, situated in a neighbourhood just a few minutes outside the city centre, and once you had parked your car, you hesitated for a moment.

“Are you sure your mum isn’t going to mind? It’s late, we can always talk tomorrow,” you spoke, looking at her for a moment. She shook her head, opening her door and responding as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “She’s fine with it, don’t worry. Let’s go inside.”

You unbuckled your own seatbelt and stepped out of the car, your siblings doing the same. Magdalene clutched your shirt gently while the other two boys walked behind you.

The front door of Vicky’s house had little stained glass details that you admired for the short moment that you stayed outside. The door swung open when Vicky knocked on it gently, and behind it was a woman that bore a striking resemblance to the girl beside you.

“Mamá, this is (Y/N),” Vicky said, gesturing to you. You smiled shyly, and the woman returned it with a much wider smile. “Bona nit! Please, come in, it’s freezing out there,” she replied, ushering you and your siblings inside. She was right, it was chilly outside, and the warmth of the López household was nice.

“Can I get you anything?” she asked, looking over her shoulder as she directed you to the living room. You shook your head, but she insisted on making you a cup of tea, and the appeal of a warm beverage was too much to resist. After a few minutes, she brought two cups of tea out to the living room for you and Vicky, then placed them on the coffee table. “Graciés, Mrs. López,” you spoke.

You sat down on the couch, the warm mug of tea in your hand as you faced the girl. “So, what do you need to talk about?” Vicky asked, and you took a deep breath before telling her.

“Something happened, Vicky. My neighbour heard some noises from my house and thought one of us was getting hurt, so she called the police and–”

You paused for a moment, pinching the bridge of your nose as prepared to tell the rest of the story. It was like reliving it all over again; the currents of fear that overwhelmed you, the unsettling atmosphere of the interrogation room, all of it.

“They told me that they’re going to place my siblings in a foster home unless I become their legal guardian — which I can’t do in time — or find someone I know to foster them. They suggested my father but…” you shrugged, hoping that Vicky would catch on, and by the understanding look on her face, she did.

“I don’t know what to do– who do I even ask?”

You didn’t want to cry, but you knew it was inevitable. You had spent the day processing probably the worst news of your life, without shedding a tear. You deserved to cry. One tear quivered in your waterline before you blinked, and it was gone.

“Why are they getting taken away?” she asked.

“Social welfare thinks they’re unsafe as long as they’re under my mum’s care because she’s got a drinking problem and my dad is out of the picture. I’m not their legal guardian so I don’t have much of a say. Can’t really afford a lawyer yet either,” you explained.

Vicky paused for a moment, staring at the coffee table as she was deep in thought, and then she spoke.

“(Y/N), I know you two don’t have the best relationship, but I think you should ask Alexia.”

You almost spat out your tea in her face, and it showed in your suddenly very wide eyes. Vicky was quick to place her mug down and raise her hands in defence.

“Wait, wait! Before you say no, just remember that she is your captain,” she explained, justifying herself.

“Dios mío, that’s got to be the stupidest shit I’ve heard all week,” you mumbled, putting your head in your hands.

Vicky frowned, pushing you gently to grab your attention again. “I know she doesn’t treat you very well, but she can help you.”

You tapped your nail against the mug, considering the option. You had a very strained relationship with Alexia, and honestly, you highly doubted that she’d want to foster and risk compromising her career for something as stupid as a few kids that weren’t even hers.

“I don’t think so. She won’t have time,” was your final verdict. You didn't perceive Alexia as the type of person interested in motherhood… but, there was one thing.

All your siblings loved football just as much as you. It'd be easy for Alexia to relate to them, because they were like her; their eyes lit up at every beginning of a conversation relating to football, they were immersed in the world of FC Barcelona and always present for your matches and celebrations. They fought to wear their blaugrana jerseys to school and blaugrana scarves in the summer.

Your hand found itself fumbling with the charm bracelet on your other wrist, the initials ‘M’, ‘D’ and ‘L’ dangling from the delicate chain. Alexia would've loved your siblings, because they were the Barça-loving, unconditionally supportive children that she imagined when she thought of having kids.

“Don’t mention it to anyone, please.” Your voice was quiet, because Magdalene had fallen asleep beside you, curled up into a ball with her head resting on a cushion. The boys were just barely awake on the other side of the couch, closing their eyes for a quick moment before opening them again in an attempt to stay awake.

Vicky nodded, but that was it. Not many words were said afterwards, until her mother asked whether you’d like to stay the night. Too tired to disagree, you mumbled a little ‘please’, and she directed you to the guest bedroom.

The three of them slept on the bed that night. You made yourself a bed on the floor, out of cushions from the living room in which you put your Barça sweater over it as a makeshift pillowcase to ease the rough feeling of the original material on your cheek, and Vicky lent you a few spare blankets.

Magdalene wanted to try sleeping on the floor with you, but after a while you felt her leave your side and get into bed with her brothers.

She was little, they all were, but their presence was bigger than life itself, and laying there with Magda tucked in your arms reminded you of what it used to be like before. When you used to keep the abandoned shopping carts close so you could put all three of them inside at night and ride down the streets to the local restaurant, then you’d treat them to a big serving of their favourite foods and the night would end with you receiving three big hugs from the tiniest humans.

Life was simple before.

You called alcohol ‘big drink’ when you were young, because only big people could drink it. You didn’t know why, but soon your Mami started getting upset more and more, after she had some big drink. It only took a few lash outs for you to get caught in the crossfire and vow to never become like Mami.

You’ve tried it a couple times here and there, and it tasted like shit. You couldn’t understand your mother for choosing that bitter concoction over happiness but soon, you figured out that when all else failed for her, it was her happiness. Her kids were seen as secondary, if you were lucky.

A light suddenly illuminated the room, and that’s when you realised your phone was buzzing. A number flashed across the screen, but you stayed idle, not reaching for it. You watched the contact disappear before a text appeared, and you read it through slightly squinted eyes still trying to adjust to the light.

+34 ### ### #####

→ We’ve gotten a hold of your father and he has agreed to attend a meeting at 9 a.m. Please call or text back immediately if you’re available.

You should’ve responded. Instead, you stared at the message until the screen went black again, and even then you kept staring in the same direction until there was nothing. The next time you opened them, it was morning, and you were facing the bottom of the bed.

Magda, Dani, and Enzo were still asleep. Peering just above the mattress, you could see them piled on top of each other as they slept.

The ‘bed’ you made on the floor felt more comfortable than ever, making you reluctant to move. With a tap on the screen, your phone lit up and revealed the time to be just past 8:30.

Your hand flopped back down and you stared at the ceiling. Everything was perfect for a couple seconds, as you forgot about the need for the day to proceed and only recognised the serenity of being in that room right now, with the people you loved most.

Everything was perfect.

“We’ll wait five more minutes and if she isn’t here by then, you’re free to leave, señor.”

The man only gave a small nod in reply, otherwise his attention was almost entirely fixed on the little sliver of blue sky that was visible from the tiny window.

Five minutes flew by. The talks of getting ready to leave started up, but they were short lived when everyone was stunned back into their seats by the door suddenly swinging open. It clicked shut as a chair scraped across the floor.

“Sorry, traffic was bad,” you mumbled, folding your arms across your chest.

“How nice of you to join us, Miss (Y/L/N),” the social worker said, and it sounded like she was feigning politeness. You acknowledged her words with a quiet hum.

“Señor, since you are the only other legal guardian of Magdalene, Dani, and Lorenzo, we’ve sought you out as a possible option for a full time caregiver of the children,” she spoke, clasping her hands together and placing them on the table.

Your father pursed his lips, nodding along with her words, “I see.”

“I still don’t think this is a good idea, and I’m saying this before you waste more of our time,” you interrupted, pointedly refusing to even look at him.

“Why not? I’m their father, (Y/N), and I’m also yours, so–”

“You didn’t want them then, so I doubt you’d want them now. Don’t say you’ll take care of them to make yourself look good and then mistreat them because they’re not on par with your other kids,” you hissed, finally meeting his gaze with a stone cold glare.

The social worker across the table didn’t intervene, though she initially jolted forwards with the intention. She settled back into her chair and observed, looking to discover the true nature of your adamance to not let your father take your siblings.

Regret flashed across his face, and it was obvious; you noticed it in the downwards twitch of his lips and the shameful lowering of his gaze as you spoke.

“They’re still my children. It’s my job as their father to look after them,” he responded.

“So where were you all these years, when Mamá was drinking her body weight in alcohol? You left us! You are not their father and you haven’t been ever since you left us.” Your fist hit the table, the noise echoing through the room. The grimace on your face was only the surface level of the disgust you felt in that very moment.

“‘My job as their father…’ my fucking ass. I was more of a father to them than you, at 16 years old! I did your job better than you before I was even 18, and you have the nerve to come here and say that they’re still your children?”

His head was hung in shame as you chided him, and he still had nothing to say.

“I knew this was a bad idea, I knew it,” you almost yelled, jumping up from your chair. It skidded along the ground with a screech, and your fingers pressed at your temples.

You hated him so much, but standing there and yelling at him made you realise how much you missed him while he was still your father, before the cheating and abandonment. “You ruined Mamá’s life by putting your own needs before us, and I hope you’re proud. Have as many new kids with your new wife as you want, but you only destroy everything you touch.”

You hoped your words reflected the years of pain and torment he had inflicted on your family. You lost not one but two parents, because your mother loved him so much and he only took advantage of it while it benefited him before he decided it wasn’t enough.

There wasn’t a single word or phrase that could convey the inexplicable feelings you felt just then. He’d have to search for it in the flushed apples of your cheeks, your glossy bloodshot scleras, and tightly furled fists tensed up at your sides.

“(Y/N), mi carita…” he started, standing up. You took a big step back, your hand finding the door knob with a steady grip.

“Just leave and don’t come back. I don’t want to see you ever again, never ever!”

With those words, you were 13 again, standing behind the corner and listening to your mum say the exact same thing to your dad.

Back then, when you two argued, you couldn’t hold his gaze without crying, but now you were. He was nothing in your eyes if not the smallest man who’s ever lived. You made sure to give him your most withering glare so he knew that there was no point.

In his eyes, you were probably the furthest you had ever been from his daughter. The loving and energetic girl he watched grow up, was now eye-to-eye with him in a police station, refusing to allow him any entry into his kids’ lives.

“Don’t give them false hope,” you sneered, wrenching the door open before deliberately slamming it behind you.

Maybe, just maybe, Alexia wasn’t such a bad idea. Yes, she was passionate about football and didn’t take it very well when people didn’t display the same amount of passion for the sport as she did, but that only meant that when she loved something, she loved it hard and with all her being. She could love your siblings. She could love them more than anyone, even their own blood.

You sought to get out of the police station and away from it as a whole, so as you stormed out of the building and sunk into the driver’s seat of your car, you had no specific place in mind.

You ended up at the Barceloneta beach. There weren’t many other places you could think to go to; the pitch was out of the question, because wherever there was a ball and a goal, there was Alexia. Your house was a huge memorabilia museum for the past, and you couldn’t show up to Vicky’s house out of the blue.

The beach was pretty, and you always loved going there. Nothing could spoil that for you.

Just the horizon and ebbing tide for company while you watched the sun slowly descend — it was what you needed.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. Part of you didn’t want to pull it out in case it turned out to be someone you didn’t like wasting your time, but you pulled it out anyways. Thankfully, it was only Vicky.

She sent you a photo from earlier that morning, and it featured all three of your siblings fast asleep on the guest bed while you slept on the floor in your comfy cluster of blankets. She followed the photo up with two laughing faces, and then two more messages.

Vicky

→ 🤣🤣

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ↳ Hermanos y hermanas

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ↳ Come sleep over again (Y/N)!!! My Mamá found the Uno cards 😉

You smiled at the photo and saved it to your camera roll before you considered Vicky’s request. You took a moment, but eventually you responded.

(Y/N)

→ vale vale 🥲 i’m picking la hermanos y hermana right now and then i’ll come straight to your house. graciés vicky ❤️

You watched the sun set further during the drive to the schools, and then again while you drove to Vicky’s. This time, you parked in the driveway, and you didn’t feel dreadful entering her house.

You rang the doorbell and the four of you waited patiently. Mrs. López was quick to rush to the door and open it.

“Hi, I hope we’re not bothering y–” you started, but you were cut off.

“(Y/N), mío querido! Come in, come in, you’re not a bother at all. You’re always welcome in our home,” she said, embracing you tightly with a warm smile.

Vicky appeared from the living room, shuffling a deck of cards in her hands. “Who wants to play Uno?” she asked, waving the cards in her hand and immediately receiving a positive reaction from your siblings, who bolted towards her eagerly.

You followed them, because though you knew they were getting taken to their foster home tomorrow and being stripped away from you, you wanted to enjoy the night and play Uno with your siblings.

Nothing’s for sure but right now. You couldn’t waste this moment.

[dilfdemolisher]

Sir

Summary - You have a sleepover with your friend Sarah Miller, who's been a bit of a shitty friend lately. So you take opportunity with her dad Joel who's dying to fuck you 18+ MINORS DNI

Content - JOEL MILLER IS A CREEP! HE’S A WEIRDO! If you don’t like it don’t read it. Sarah and the reader are above the age of 18, didn’t specify but reader is legal ofc, she kinda likes that he’s a creep (just like me fr), Joel being shocked that a pretty young girl wants to touch his predatory pp, titty smack:), hair pulling, oral/fingering (f receiving), unsafe p in v, blurred lines of consent, choking, noncon creampie, prob grammar/spelling errors, and worst of all…tuna melts (idk i feel if a food was a creep it would be a tuna melt)

Word count - 3969;)

Walking into the Miller home isn’t something unusual with Sarah Miller being one of your closest friends you feel comfortable just walking in, you know they leave their door open. The neighbourhood is filled with families and elders, there’s not much of a threat of a break-in.

“That you Hun?” Mr. Miller speaks up from the kitchen, walking out of the entrance to your right into the kitchen he's cutting celery. “I’m making some tuna melts if you want one?”

“Oh no, it’s me, sorry.” You say before questioning him. “Is Sarah in her room?” You ask, heading towards the staircase.

“No, she's been out all day with that boyfriend of hers.” He says with a sigh. “Why ya’ asking?”

“Oh we were gonna hang out is all.” Now this is awkward you think, trying not to express your disappointment that his daughter bailed on you right in front of him.

“Well shit, I’m sorry.” He sighs while grabbing pickles from the fridge to start cutting. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll make you one too?”

“Oh no you don’t have to do that.” You politely decline.

He stops his cutting to look towards you. “Have you eaten dinner yet?” He asks quizzically.

“No, I just don’t wanna bother you is all.”

“Well then sit, I insist I don’t want you leaving my house hungry Sweets, put something on the TV I’ll bring it out when it’s done”

Sweets that’s new

“Uhm well thank you sir.” You say a bit timidly, he looks up at you, corner of his mouth in a smirk. “Of course.”

————————————————————————

“Thank you.” You say as he hands you your plate. “Forensic Files nice.” He says as he sits down next to you. “I’m sorry ‘bout Sarah, I’m sure this isn’t your ideal evening.”

You nod and shrug. “It’s okay, if she's busy, she’s busy.”

He scoots himself closer before speaking again. “Say don’t ya’ got a boyfriend to keep yourself busy with? You’re a pretty one y’know, I think Sarah mentioned one.”

“Me? I don't, no.” You say sheepishly, taking a bite of your food and finally meeting his gaze after he doesn’t respond for a moment.

He’s looking at you intensely. Like you’re his prey, you think about scooting away from him before realizing you’re already snug against the arm of the couch. You’re stuck.

You took the final bite of your meal before looking at him and speaking. “Thank you for the food but I think I should get going before it’s late.”

He shakes his head with a smile. “Nonsense, I texted Sarah and told her she forgot and she’s heading here right now.” He says in between bites.

“Oh, thank you.” You say.

You must have misread his intentions, you almost feel guilty for thinking he was being creepy. He was just trying to be polite, and make conversation until Sarah arrived because HE went out of his way to do something nice for you and have her come home. He wasn’t even trying to come onto you.

“Of course, gimme your plate. I'll clean up down here while you’re waiting, you can head to Sarah’s room if ya’ want.” He says while reaching for your plate.

“Thank you sir.”

He maintains eye contact while taking your plate, two of his fingers run along the base of your hand starting at your wrist to your fingertips as he grabs the plate, the same smirk as earlier creeping on his lips.

He says nothing as he walks away, you decide it’s best to head up into Sarah’s room.

————————————————————————

You're hot, your body slightly sticky from the heat trapped beneath the blankets created by you and Sarah in your sleep. Sarah's sleeping next to you, mouth open with a small spot of drool on her pillow.

It's fucking hot though and not much sounds better than a cold glass of water, but that takes a walk in past the door of your friend's father who has been flirting with you. Fuck.

In all fairness it's not that he’s unattractive, it's definitely not that. More so because it's very inappropriate. That's your friend's father, which you are a little tense with at the moment. You'd talked about her absence and she only partially apologized, more so excused. You know damn well it's gonna happen again but your tendency to give forgiveness when not earned pushed aside any confrontation that would be valid.

But no, it would be inappropriate to think about anything with her father, he’s old enough to be yours. And that's with the assumption he was flirting with you all along. But a glass of water does sound really fucking nice right now. Leaving Sarah's room with a wince as her door squeaks as it opens, your footsteps treading lightly to avoid more noises; noises you hope don't wake Mr. Miller up.

You reach the bottom of the stairs and make your way to the kitchen by using your recollection of the floorplan and the faint glow on the floor from the moonlight, though you figure it's best to turn the stove light if you wanna get water without any spilling accidents.

You hit the switch and face the sink to turn on the faucet and let it run cold while you grab your glass from the cupboard. You fill your glass and take a sip, savouring the feeling of the liquid pouring down your throat and cooling you down from the inside, you can't help but let out a small hum of satisfaction as the glass leaves your mouth.

“Ain't that a pretty sound.” A voice from behind you rings.

You jump, startled by the break of silence the water from your predominantly full cup splashes onto your shirt. Your white shirt. The worst of the damage is on the tops of your chest, but it doesn't stop the water from slowly migrating down further.

“I-“ You stand there speechless, aware of your sudden nudity and completely unsure of how to navigate this situation. You stay staring at him for several moments before realizing he's not meeting your eye contact, his eyes are lying somewhere else.

“Well that ain't good is it.” He says, with a…caring look on his face. A complete switch from the way he looked at you seconds earlier though, if there was better lighting you could almost swear his pupils aren't normally that dilated though.

“We need to getcha’ a new shirt don’t we?” He says before walking away, he reaches the first steps of the stairs before realizing you aren’t following him. “I know that can’t be comfortable honey.” He empathizes with a nod of his head leading upstairs. Taking the cue you start walking upstairs to head to Sarah’s room without much thought as if your body’s doing it for your father then your mind in your state of embarrassment.

You both walk to the stairs as he keeps one arm gripping the railing, you can’t help but admire as you eye his bicep and the way the fabric of the shirt tightens around it. Though any other thoughts are cut short as he lets go of the railing and heads to his door and opens it without entering, implying for you to enter.

“I need to get a shirt from Sarah’s room.” Say matter of fact, not completely sure of how to take this.

Because there is no fucking way Mr. Miller is inviting you into his room

“Get one from my room, you don’t wanna wake Sarah up do ya’?”

You shake your head and he opens the door wider. You walk in and feel his palm press across your back pushing you forward slightly before he lets go when you’re a few feet away and walks back and peeks his head out in the direction of Sarah’s room and closes the door.

You hear a click presumably from him locking it. You sit on the foot of his bed. He looks over at you, you see his chest rising up and down faster than it should be from just a walk up his staircase.

He starts to walk over to you, slowly as if not to scare you like he’s about to pounce before he stops his movements when you speak.

“What’s happening?” You ask because you’re a solid 90% sure Mr. Miller had just led you into his room to fuck you but the voice in your head that’s telling you he’d never do that even though you don’t him that well is loud, almost as loud and disruptive as the arousal you feel stirring in your tummy.

You shouldn't want fuck him, it's your friend's father. Your friend who has been a shitty friend lately to be fair, and if you wanted to get payback in a way without her ever knowing, having sex with her father is definitely a good way to do it. So fuck it.

Joel opens his mouth to respond to your question but quickly shuts it when he sees you grab the hem of your top and drag it off, completely exposing your chest to him. You pull your feet from the floor to the bed underneath your thighs, having you in kneeling a position on his bed.

You look at Joel to see his jaw slacked as if this is a surprise for him. Speculating he didn't think it was going to be like this, that you would be so on board to fuck him. It's quite the uncomfortable thought that he may have had his way with you whether you wanted it or not, but that's a thought you need to push to the side for now. What you do have, is a moment of confirmation in your brain, now you know for sure that Joel Miller is a creep. But at least he's a hot one.

He's still standing by the door staring at you looking fucking gobsmacked, you’re starting to question if you have gave the man a stroke. “Mr. Miller?”

“Mmhm.” He hums, he slowly walks towards you until he’s standing in front of you. You can help but take a deep breath, he looks so intimidating from this angle, much bigger than the man who takes your bags inside for you so you don't have to haul it all yourself, or the man that Sarah talks highly of. No this is a different man.

Though, still feel some semblance of the man you know as he brings his hand up to your cheek and strokes it, holding your face so delicately like he will break it and shatter you if he took a tighter grip on your face.

You look for a moment and become certain that he's not wearing anything under those sweatpants with the way you can see his dick starting to get hard so clearly.

You drag your fingers down from his stomach to the band of his pants. “Can I suck your cock?” You ask, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

“Fuck.” He growls. He stays staring at you for a moment before murmuring, “Come ‘er.” And leans down to bring your face towards his.

His kiss is soft the same way he is with cradling your face. He pushes you on your back gently, you pull apart for a moment as he takes a moment to look at your face. He moves a piece of hair away from your face and pushes it behind your ear.

“Nuh-uh, I’m gonna make you feel good baby.” He whispers, his voice is quite like he's suddenly apprehensive about his voice being heard.

He continues kissing you again, the carefulness that he once had starts subsiding as he bites your bottom lip and becomes more passionate. He's putting his entire body into the kiss, showing how badly he wants you. You wrap your legs around his waist and grind up into him, giving some form of friction against your pussy for the time being.

His kisses become messy, you can feel the fucking spit around your mouth from his, he’s practically drooling for you and this point. His slobbery kisses leave your mouth as they meet your jaw and make their way down to your neck.

His kisses make their way higher briefly as he nibbles on your earlobe. “Gonna make this pretty pussy of yours feel so good baby.” He whispers before gravitating towards your collarbone. He starts where it meets your shoulders and gives gentle kisses to where it meets the other at your sternum, then trails lower towards your breasts.

His hand tracks lower towards the band of your sleep shorts as you feel his kisses get closer and closer to your nipple. He doesn't hook his fingers into the band though instead he slowly drags his fingers towards your covered clit.

“Please.” You whimper as his tongue licks around your nipple. “What do ya’ want, gotta say it.” He kitten licks your nipple then pulls his mouth away, he pulls his hand away from your core and slaps your tit with it. “Use your words or you ain't gettin’ anything, I'll just use this cunt and get what I want.”

Your eyes roll back into your skull as you get your first taste of the pleasure that your body's been begging for. “I bet you'd like that though, huh?” He says with a light chuckle. He's getting such amusement from how quickly you turn into putty that's just waiting to be moulded by his hands.

“Your mouth, please.” You whine. “Want you to use your mouth on me, h-however you want.”

Your pleading seemed to have worked because he finally wraps his lips around your nipple and takes it into his mouth. He uses both of his hands and massages your tits as looks up at you with those big brown eyes. He moves to tease the other breast with his tounge as you tangle your hand into his curls.

You give them a tug Joel releases a moan from his lips. “Want ya’ to tug on my hair real good m’kay baby? Lemme know that I’m making you feel good.”

“Okay.” You whisper, more to yourself than to him. You cannot believe that Sarah’s father is actually between your legs. He moves his head lower and lower until he shifts himself down to get comfortable between your legs and leaves one last kiss on your pelvis then takes your knees into his hands to spread your legs further.

Without asking further, he drags your shorts and underwear down in one pull and chucks them onto the floor. You realize how vulnerable you are looking at him fully dressed as you lay beneath completely nude.

Takes to fingers and drags them up and down along your seam, teasing you. “Please, plea- just touch me.”

You raise yourself onto your forearms to look at him, your eyes pleading for any kind of stimulation. You watch as drags down towards your messy hole, he breaches the tips of his two fingers inside you and then moves them up to your clit. He finally gives pressure to it as he moves his fingers in tight circles over the nerve.

You let out a gasp, relishing the feeling of his calloused fingertips rubbing your pussy. “Thank yo-you.”

“Such a good girl using her manners for me.” He drags his fingers down towards your hole again and takes his middle finger and pushes it into you.

You watch as he stares transfixed, he watches his finger plunge in and out of you.

He pulls his finger out to stick his thick ring finger in accompanied by a squelch of wetness being sounded out along with your breathy whimpers as he fucks you with his two fingers a bit faster.

“God yes!” You let a proper moan for the first time, the feeling of his fingers pounding into that spongy spot inside of you feels so fucking good you can’t bother to manage your noise level anymore.

You can see his filthy smirk in the low light of his bedroom and his eyes watching your hole suck up his fingers. His mouth finds your clit as he dances his tongue along you testing the waters to see what you like. He pulled out his fingers and moves down to give to your hole to give it a messy, but light kiss. His lips are covered in your arousal and continue his kisses along your outer lips before setting one final kiss onto your throbbing clit.

He finally gives you what you need as he eats you out, hiking your thighs onto his shoulders brings you closer and closer to the brink, he continues his frantic movements until your orgasm finds its way from your pussy up to your head making your brain fog up.

He takes his fingers that were once in you that are now covered in your dry cum to drag them around your pussy to gather more wetness before bringing them up to your mouth, in your post-orgasm state not fully realising what he’s asking of you, he pulls your jaw open with his other and shoves his fingers into your mouth until you get the memo and you suck your slick off of them for him.

“Good Girl.” He says with a light, almost endearing smack on your cheek before he moves away to pull his dick out and align himself with your hole.

Too soon you think, you need a couple of seconds to recover before getting fucked by him but when you even begin to mutter a “wait” he clamps his hand over your mouth and pushes himself inside.

“I said I need you to be quiet. What do I have to do to get that through your slutty little head huh?”

He growls as he removes his hand from your mouth pinching your cheeks together causing your lips to push out a pout and shakes your head side to side.

He moves his hand from your face to your throat, not squeezing but resting his hand there, his eyes bore into your soul as he finally starts to slide in and out of you.

There’s a dynamic shift in the room and he knows you feel it too, he’s no longer the sad older dad who you were doing a favour by letting him fuck you. No, the energy in the room is much more sinister. The pieces in your head start to click that it never depended on if you willingly offered to suck him off, he would have had you in the same position regardless.

He can see it too, he continues staring at your eyes so diligently just to see to the moment when it clicks that he’s the one in control.

It feels much more silent than it was before as you break eye contact and look up towards the ceiling, the white noise in your brain turns off as you become hyper-aware of your surroundings. The way the sheets move under you, the sound of your skin slapping against each other as he picks up his pace, you feel his hand start to tighten around your throat and you let out a moan. You curse yourself, no. You curse your body and its reactions towards him for making you feel this way.

You can’t help but let out breathy moans with each thrust he gives. You can tell he’s getting closer by his slightly faulting pacing and the way his eyes, so tightly screwed shut, are extenuating his crow's feet along his temples.

He opens his eyes to see you now studying his face, and you can feel him study yours, the fat on your face that comes with you he no longer has, your cheeks a splotchy red colour from your activity. And pupils so heavily dilated for a moment he thinks you're enjoying this as much as he is before he sees how empty they are and remembers his hand squeezing your throat.

Your eyes roll back as you feel your face finally get the blood flow it's been begging for as he releases it from his palms.

“Say my name.” He says, pounding into you so sloppily you know he's on the brink.

You mutter a Mr. Miller and look at him just to see prominent dissatisfaction laced all over his face.

“Joel, please Joel.” You whine in attempts to correct yourself and beg for your not sure what for.

“I said say my FUCKING name.” He demands in a much more aggressive tone than he's given you before, still pounding into you relentlessly.

You feel his hand return to your throat to choke you, like actually choke you. Your hands that remained glued to your sides reach at his wrists trying to pull them away.

He looks at your confusion and repeats himself again, over and over. Telling you to say his name. Until you eventually understand what he wants.

“Sir.” You attempt to speak but nothing comes out, just a wheeze as you try to expel the air from your lungs to give him what he wants before your lungs more than they already are and you can do nothing but stay silent.

He stays staring at you, watching you try to get the words out only to fail, he only seems to snap out of it when he feels your nails dig into his arm and remembers his ask, he was just too caught up in the pleasure of watching you panic and the fear drip out of pores that he forgot what he was doing.

You feel his hand release your neck. You finally breathe, travelled by some coughs, but finally you say it.

“Sir.”

“Say it again.”

“Sir.”

“Again.”

You keep saying the same word over and over as he also repeats things of his own, only his a bunch of garbled “shits” and “fucks” as he tows the line of orgasm until he finally cums.

He lets his body drop onto you leaving you squashed between him and the mattress as he comes inside of you.

He lays his head on your tits and feels around for your wrist and places it onto his hair. Your body, running on autopilot, starts playing with his hair as you assume it's what he wants.

You two lay together breathing in sync, his ear by your heart hearing it pump blood to the rest of your body. He looks up at you with such tenderness that it gives you whiplash from the man he was just moments ago.

“You did so good y’know, ya really did.” He grabs your hand from his hair, brings it towards his face and leaves a gentle kiss on your palm before getting himself with a sigh.

He tucks himself back into his sweats and asks if you wanna join him in the shower. You shake your head no and you see a flash of disappointment cross his face.

“You sure?.”

You let a “mmhm” and he leaves it at that. He heads towards the shower before turning back and bends down. You feel him examine your face once more for any emotion to gauge how you’re feeling, but you have none. You're empty.

He presses a delicate kiss to your forehead and walks back and stops at the door.

“I’m happy we got to have this night together.” He says with a smile then closes the bathroom door.

You let out a sigh of relief you didn’t know you were holding when you hear the shower start to run. You feel the breeze from the open window cover your naked frame as you feel his cum start to slide out of you.

You start to sit and figure you'll have to clean yourself up in the bathroom downstairs until you hear a knock at his door.

“Dad?”

[a-room-of-my-own]

Edinburgh Crisis Centre designed to protect women who had suffered serious sexual violence is condemned for failing them in damning report

A controversial rape crisis centre “damaged” victims of sexual violence by hindering their access to biologically female counsellors, a damning report has found.

Edinburgh Rape Crisis Centre (ERCC), run by trans woman Mridul Wadhwa, was blasted for “many serious failings” including not putting the needs of survivors first.

The independent investigation condemned the centre for insisting traumatised rape victims, who can be as young as 12, must specify if they don’t want support from someone born a man.

More than 94 per cent of victims of rape are women and the perpetrators men.

Yet the review found ERCC failed to provided vulnerable victims with safe women only spaces, while at the same time opening up services to men.

The report said: “Putting women in the position of having to discuss whether the service they receive will be provided by someone who was born and continues to identify as female has caused damage.”

The review was ordered by umbrella organisation Rape Crisis Scotland (RCS) in May 2024, after a scathing employment tribunal judgment ruled that ERCC worker Roz Adams was subjected to a “heresy hunt” for suggesting a rape victim should know the sex of her counsellor.

Although rape crisis centres are autonomous, they sign up to the RCS’s national standards, many of which the review found ERCC had failed to meet.

RCS said the review had found a “significant breach of its standards” and was “pausing” the referral of any new clients to ERCC until it implements the recommendations of the review.

Women only spaces are a required national standard yet they were not available from October 2022 until at least February 2024, when ERCC knew it was facing a tribunal and would be under scrutiny.

The review was heavily critical of Wadhwa, who self identifies as a woman but does not have a gender recognition certificate and is legally a man.

It found her be a domineering as chief executive who “who did not understand the limits on her role’s authority” and it said Wadhwa “failed to set professional standards of behaviour” within the organisation.

She was portrayed as incompetent, overseeing an organisation with systemic failures and a chaotic approach in key areas such as financial transparency, training and safeguarding for staff and clients.

Wadhwa was placed on leave from June this year, a month after she was blamed by the employment tribunal for being the “invisible hand” in the victimisation of Ms Adams for her gender critical views.

The reviewer, charity sector consultant, Vicky Ling, said she was also told victims were not using the service because they deemed it unsafe, given there was no guarantee of being seen by a counsellor born female.

And she recommended ERCC refer any concerned survivors to guaranteed women only services such as Beira's Place, the rape help centre funded by JK Rowling and condemned by Wadhwa as transphobic.

Wadhwa labelled rape victims bigots and transphobes if they doubted whether a man identifying as a woman should run a centre helping women recover from male violence.

She said any staff who did not think all trans women were women should be fired.

According to the employment tribunal, Madhwa was on a mission to 'cleanse the organisation of those who did not follow her beliefs’.

In 2021, Wadhwa caused outrage when she told listeners of the Guilty Feminist podcast that some rape victims were “bigoted people” who needed to “reframe their trauma” and be re-educated if they didn’t agree all trans women were female.

The report said Wadhwa’s controversial comments “caused damage to individuals and to the reputation of the organisation”.

The report said the work environment at ERCC was unhealthy and with high sickness rates and that staff were likely to be too scared to question Wadhwa’s “trans activist” approach.

It recommended an overhaul of the culture at ERCC including the establishment of policies which would guarantee there would be no victimisation of any staff who did not agree with trans-inclusion within the service.

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

I loved your medic reader fic! Would you ever consider doing a follow up to that? It could be whatever you want! You write the guys with so much character and personality! ^_^

“Hello Nurse!” (Pt. 2)

Y/N’s contract is renewed, and as filming wraps in California and continues in Miami, she’s brought along on a whirlwind journey across the U.S. and discovers there’s more than meets the eye to this ragtag group of misfits.

Johnny Knoxville X Fem!Reader, Bam Margera X Fem!Reader, Steve-O X Fem!Reader, Ryan Dunn X Fem!Reader, Chris Pontius X Fem!Reader

(Fluff)

5.4k Words

Warnings: Highly suggestive content, anal (Dunn and the toy car), crude language, light bullying, drug use, weed, opioids, alcohol, nudity, slut shaming, unsafe driving, injury, blood kink, medical settings, wound description, hazing, premature ejaculation, snakes, humping, threesomes

An: Thank you so much for this request!! I really love Medic!Y/N and I thought I’d take this story in a new and interesting direction ;) I would totally be open for writing more for her in the future, so feel free to drop a request if there’s something in particular you would like to see! Tagging: @sweetest-catha

Being a set medic means that, oftentimes, you end up wearing many hats. For example, if you told someone you were being forced via contract to watch a grown man rectally insert a matchbox car, they wouldn’t believe you- but yet, here you are. “Do- do I really need to be in the room for this…?” Bam stood at Ryan’s bedside clad in black pseudo-scrubs, playing the nurse to your doctor. That’s a nightmare in and of itself. He scoffed, pressing a stethoscope to Dunn’s chest, “Yeah- legal said so!” Ah yes, your old friend: the legal department. The reason you were still around to witness this wonder of nature.

Not even a month ago, you got your very first job as a set medic. According to Knoxville (which is what you had begun calling him, no longer Johnny or his least favorite, Mr. Knoxville), the crew decided to renew your contract because you were a joy to have on set! No other reason- no way… There was a lot more work to do for the movie anyways, and the production would be taking a trip to Miami, Florida to film some stunts in the sunshine state and maybe get some material on the road, and it’s not like they could just abandon their favorite nurse! So, in a dingy hotel room somewhere in California, you were standing by as Ryan laid back on the sheets with his legs up in a mock Lithotomy position and squirted some clear goo out of a tube plainly labeled ANAL LUBE, presenting you with two sticky fingers, “Y/N- y’think this is enough lube?” The cameraman standing in the doorway seemed to find your nervous reaction pure comedy gold, making sure to capture your stammering, “Ah- how am I supposed to know?! I mean, just- just try with that…”

Nurse Bam snickered at the shocked blush on your cheeks, getting this malicious little look in his eye as he whispered in Dunn’s ear, “Dude, you gotta get a little louder with this next one- Just watch ‘er…” Clinging to the wall with your eyes squeezed shut to block out what was happening, all you could hear were snickers and these squelchy noises that you really wished you didn’t know the origins of, before Ryan let out a low, provocative groan. When Bam asked him, “Is it in?” something in you snapped. Ry didn’t have time to respond before you, unable to stand the tension for a second longer, lunged across the room and simultaneously pulled Ryan to his feet with one hand and yanked up his shorts with your other.

While Dunn was getting whatever needed to be done over with in the bargain X-ray place, you slumped in the van with your head in your hands alongside the guys who were busy recording B-roll, “God, I feel bad for Y/N- she’s gonna have’t fish that thing outta him…” The implications here made you jolt awake, “Wait- I’m not gonna do it? I-I thought the x-ray guy was gonna take care of that!” This is a Jackass set for crying out loud! Shouldn’t they have a specialized ass doctor around here? Stifling his own laughter, Steve made a flimsy effort to calm your nerves by reaching around Knoxville to pat you on the back, “Hey, if it makes you feel any better, y’could’ve been in my ass if Dunn didn’t step up like that!” Johnny laughed, turning to address the camera, “Yeah, lesser’a two evils…”

Ryan declined any assistance with the removal process in spite of the constant goading from the rest of the crew, instead opting to yank the thing out himself in the bathroom. And after that, you hit the road. Since the cast and crew would be split up in two vans, Johnny thought it was only fitting to wish them off like a mom sending her sons off to college, “Alright, now don't you boys do anything I wouldn’t do! Have fun, take your medicine, and-“ Honking the horn, Bam yelled from the driver’s side window, “Get in, dipshit!” You were already in the van, squished between Steve and Chris, so close that you could feel the heat radiating off of their bodies.

It was around Barstow where you were staring out through a fogged up window which you were lucky enough to score a seat next to, when you spotted a sign on the roadside reading, ‘Don’t gamble with marajuana. In Nevada: Possession- 20 years! Sale- Life!’ Part of you found this really ironic, considering that, right next to you, Steve-O was getting fired like an over cooked McNugget, passing the joking right in front of you to Pontius. You didn't have an excuse to sit up front like Knoxville’s asthma or Bam’s bitching about how much he hates the smell of pot. How often do cops patrol this area? Maybe you weren't hiding your nerves as well as you thought because Chris held out the joint to you between two fingers. Were you really about to do this?

“Oh! I’m, uh- I’m alright…” Nope, you weren't going to do that. Pontius shrugged, opting to pass it back to Ryan in exchange for a can out of the six pack he bought in order to presumably drink his shame away. You tried to focus on the fact that you were a professional; you were here to do a job, and that job was to take care of these young men, whatever it is they put themselves through. Letting Knoxville’s prattling about gonzo journalism and Hunter S. Thompson wash away your thoughts, you looked ahead with apprehension towards the strip-hotel skyline rising up through the haze of the desert.

The plan was to stop at a hotel so the guys could film some stunt and be on your way. Neither cast nor crew would spill the beans but whatever it was, there was no medical liability, so you hung back in the room. So you walked in, laid down the bed, and exhaled all the stress that weighed on your bones. Little did you know that chaos was slowly encroaching in on your little slice of peace. No more than ten feet away, clustered in the hallway outside, there was this childish truth or dare energy that buzzed among the guys. Bam gave Ryan a playful shove, “You go first, since y’got it so bad for her…” Scoffing, Dunn shot a glare his way, “Listen- I took the car up my ass! That gets me off the hook for, like- a week, at least.” Ever the arbitrator, Johnny knew that he could illicit the best reaction out of you, so he shoved the two apart with diplomatic grace, “Boys, listen- I’ll take care’a this.”

Right as you laid down, someone knocked at the door. Assuming it was Jeff or someone else on the crew, you got up to answer it only to be greeted by something entirely unexpected: Johnny, naked. In fact, they were all naked! Practically letting out a squeak at the sight, your face burnt red and you couldn’t meet his gaze even with those shades that never seemed to leave his face. Keeping your eyes down, you realized that may have been the worst place for you to look at considering the only thing you had to focus on was a strip of lean, muscular, Hollywood tan flesh. Speaking to you through the one inch gap allotted by the still in place door chain, Knoxville sounded so casual, as if he was making fully clothed conversation, “Hey, Y/N! Me ‘an the fellas were just wonderin’ if you’d wanna go get somethin’ t’eat tonight!” You couldn’t help but silently wonder about what you weren't seeing, but quickly shook the image from your mind, you had a more pressing matter: the five entirely nude men waiting outside your room. “W-why are you all naked?!”

Vegas- the original adult playground, where big girls and boys go to behave poorly. Given the statute here for things you can get away with before you get arrested, there wouldn't be a better place in the U.S. to film “Nudist Hotel Crawl”. According to Steve-O, who was more than happy to explain, the premise of the stunt was to go about your business in a hotel like taking the elevator or walking through hallways- all while totally naked. They got some sweet footage, but the real fun would arise when their favorite evil mastermind (who came up with the whole ‘taunt the cute medic girl’ idea in the first place) suggested they pay you a visit. Of course, he left that last part out.

They had parts planned out, like when Chris popped up on his toes and used his buddy’s shoulder for stability, smiling at you with that goofy grin, “It’s pretty cold out here! Can we use the shower’t warm up a bit?” If there was something worse than someone seeing you with a group of naked men outside your door, it would be someone seeing said men be invited in. “Where the hell are your clothes!?” It was only after that left your mouth that you realized that their clothes were still in the room. God, it was like this was some demented Abbott and Costello routine…

“In here? All of you naked- with me?” Bam smirked at how suggestive that sounded, replying with quick thinking, “How else are we gonna get dressed?” You conceded with a sigh, fiddling with the lock, “Okay, fine- just…no weird stuff!” You didnt have enough time to peep your head out the doorway to check for onlookers before they all flooded in, laughing and whooping. At the back of the pack was Johnny, who seemed to linger by you for a moment while everyone else ran to the showers or started miming sex acts with each other’s naked bodies. The air between the two of you hung thick as he leaned down to murmur sweetly in your ear, “I’m serious about that dinner thing.” “You are gonna put on some clothes, right…?”

An upside to family restaurants is that they’re usually pretty loud, muffling any crude conversation enabled by the surprisingly free flowing alcohol. “See, that’s the problem-“ Bam slurred, gesturing over to Steve and Chris before taking a swig of whatever was in his glass, “you two’re attracted t’these, like- fake titty bitches with thongs hangin’ outta their ass an’ DSL, like- dick suckin’ lips.” The fact that you were hanging out with the talent in the first place while the rest of the crew- the semi responsible adults such as yourself- were asleep back at the hotel completely eluded you. Eluding you more was the fact you got roped into whatver conversation they were having, “Speaking of, Y/N- you gotta boyfriend?”

You felt like you were back in high school again…Well, you didn’t have a boyfriend, but why in the world would Knoxville be asking you that? Is this just another ploy to make you squirm? He seemed as if he didn’t care how his words made your heart jump into your mouth, languidly chewing as he stared across the table at you. Stammering, you swallowed your nerves, “U-uh…No, actually.” There was a beat everybody just stared at each other before Bam broke the silence by elbowing Dunn, giving him a very obvious eyebrow raise, “Ah! She’s single!” Chris gave you a smolder and Ryan rolled his eyes at Bam’s drunken antics, elbowing him back a little harder, speaking through grit teeth, “Thanks, dude.” And then there was Johnny, the ringmaster to this operation. He just reached over to you and playfully ruffled your hair, grinning in that cute, crooked way, “I was just curious, that’s all…”

After dinner that night, you were off to New Mexico, and it was Knoxville’s turn to drive. Nerves already frayed from the trip so far, you couldn’t sleep if you wanted to, much less with how Bam was sprawled out on both your and Dunn’s laps. Knowing you wouldn’t, Johnny spoke first, “Y’know, I gotta terrible habit’a fallin’ asleep while drivin’…” Well that assured you a lot. He gestured to you with one hand, “D’ya think you could grab me a couple’a those red pills from Steve-O’s backpack?” Steve’s backpack was the Baskin-Robbins of indulgence- yes, the Jansport slumped against your leg was more of a mobile police narcotic’s lab than anything.

Typical medic stuff, doling out pills, even if they weren't exactly yours…you’d put up more resistance, but you didn’t have much of an argument due to the fact that the cast shared pretty much everything else, ranging from clothes to women, so you just handed them over like the nice little pushover you were. “We’re lucky’t have you, Y/N. I mean it…” Johnny thanked you before throwing them back dry, “Y’know, you’ve got this…thing about you. Y’seem like you really care about us idiots.” Barely above the hum of the engine, Knoxville’s words were low and genuine. The way he was talking about you as if you were some set angel lit some fire inside you, steaming up your cheeks and making you avoid meeting his gaze in the rear view mirror. You replied simply, “Well, I do. It's what I do.” Oh, if you kept this up, Johnny might start feeling a little bad about tormenting you so much…Well, clearly he didn’t feel bad enough, the weight of his true feelings carrying over to something he let slip to plant some funny seeds in your head. “Yeah Dunn was right about you…”

Blood trickled down his limbs from angry, red flesh speckled by cacti spines, but Steve didn’t seem to be too bothered by it at all- you hardly noticed that lovesick grin plastered on his face as you diligently worked at removing the prickles lodged in his skin. It seemed the longer you were on set, the more real the injuries got…They were stuck everywhere- from his chicken scratch tattooed arms to his pale, narrow thighs that felt so nice with your hands rubbing against them to smooth the soreness…It didn’t help Steve had to strip down to his boxers as you crouched in front of him, sweat sparkling on your forehead under the New Mexico sun. Steve found the whole nurse/patient dynamic really sexy, but after that previous embarrassing, sticky incident, he’d been trying to keep his cool around you, which was doing a bang up job with, as evident from the way he absolutely botched that last attempt at that “Cactus Jump” stunt. Maybe it was a little more intentional than he’d care to admit, just a bid to get in this position again; It was all soft breathing and these warm touches too tender to stay platonic.

“Hey, uh-“ Clearing his throat to cover up the way his voice cracked, Steve looked at you with these glossy, semi dazed eyes, “Y’got any pain pills over there?” Ah, yes- memories of Ed the Medic and his assortment of multicolored opioids. Distracted by trying to grip a spine lodged particularly deeply in his thigh, you sort of dismissed him given how familiar you were with his righteous, clean living indignation towards painkillers, “Don’t you have some in your bag?” Before he could question you about knowing about his stash, you suddenly had more pressing matters to take care of: this primal, I’m talking primal, life or death shriek of terror you hurt maybe twenty feet away. Assuming something went horribly wrong, you lept to your feet to investigate. This is what you went to med school for- saving lives!

Well, not exactly. It was Bam, cowering in the face of a desert kingsnake. Well, it was more of a stand-off, but it was obvious who was losing. You called out to one of the cameramen nearby and started to walk the talent away to one side, “Hey, can we get a chair or something for Bam here?“ It's better to be safe than sorry when it comes to snake bites, so you gently sat him down and started the now routine line of questioning that follows a snake bite while inspecting high risk points: the wrists, the neck, etc. He didn’t seem like he was bleeding, and when you tried to ask if he knew if the snake was nevemos or not, you didn’t get much of an answer. Bam talked with his hands as he prattled on in this little-boy-lost-at-the-zoo voice, “It- it didn’t bite me- but that fuckin’ thing’s lookin’ at me, like-!” The snake was still sitting a few feet away when it suddenly lunged towards the two of you. It was pretty obvious it couldn’t do anything from this distance, but that didn’t stop Bam from flying backward and nearly topping out of his chair.

This was a side of him you hadn’t seen before. Previously, Bam was a schoolyard bully who’d shank you like a jailhouse snitch at his earliest convenience- or at the very least, try his damndest to make you squeal and cry by any means short of tugging on your pigtails. But are those tears you see? Initially, part of you thought he was playing some cruel joke to tug at your heartstrings, but the longer you looked at Bam- and Bam looked at you, with those big, baby blue doe eyes that just beg to be comforted- you saw another side of him: a weaker, more vulnerable side. And it sounds weird to say, but you really liked this side of him. Broken. Pretty…

As you knelt down in the hot sand next to him, Bam suddenly lurched towards you, clinging to you in maybe the most awkward yet strangely sweet hug you’ve ever received. Not having been trained on what to do in this scenario, you just sort of did what felt right, reaching out and rubbing his back, “You’re okay, you’re fine…” Your stiff but soothing platitudes seemed to ease the shaking in Bam’s shoulders as the guys all stood around and watched, snickering at how you were reluctantly mothering him, “The snake’s gone, you’re alright- you’re fine…you’re sure you didn’t get bit?”

If the broken air conditioner wasn’t an issue driving to New Mexico, it was certainly an issue driving through New Mexico. The guys were still giving Bam a hard time about the snake freak out by the time you were halfway to Texarkana, and Dunn was happy to finally get some leverage on him after all that shit he gave him about bein’ sweet on you, “Look at it this way- now that we’ve gotta lady who can kiss your boo-boos, maybe you don’t need’t live with your mom anymore!” You were amazed at the way these men could just be so mean and awful to each other and still stay friends, but hell- if that isn’t a testament to friendship. Still a little shaken judging by the look in his eyes, Bam whipped around in his seat to snap back, “First off, Ape lives with me, asshole- not vice versa. Second of all-“

Reaching into the center council, he grabbed a styrofoam fast food cup of soda and tossed it back at Dunn, inadvertently getting about half of it on you. This earned him a good shove, sending his cackling, half clothed body against the dashboard because of course these men don’t wear seatbelts. As the chaos unfolded, all you could do was sit there, dripping with soda, frozen while you bore witness to how quickly they all turned into animals. Well, all of them except Ryan, who noticed the dark, sticky mess on the front of your shirt and doubled over to scrounge around on the floor of the van, “Here- y’can wear this if you want,” Dunn sat up and smiled softly as you unfurled the wad of fabric he handed you- his shirt. “Sorry about Bam, he’s…well, he is normally like this, but he’s still an ass. Our ass.”

At the rodeo arena where they were supposed to film some bull stunt, you still wore Ryan’s shirt underneath your navy blue medic jacket, and you thought nothing of it. You’d been called in because Knoxville took a particularly nasty hit and wasn’t getting up, and if you had a nickel for every time that happened you’d be able to retire. The first thing you noticed when you walked in was the glassy, nine mile stare that Kossick was sporting- the growing uncertainty that he’s going straight to filming Milfbusters 7 after this movie gets shelved on account of their main star biting it. Kneeling down by Johnny’s side, you took care not to move him too much on the chance he suffered some degree of head trauma as you gently peeled the shattered remains of his glasses off of his face.

“Howdy, ma’am!” Knoxville grinned at you from the ground, surprisingly with all of his teeth intact, “I’m just a little concussed- I’m alright. Y’ain’t gotta worry ‘bout me…” Dismissing you the way men tend to do when they’re injured, he tried to pull himself up on his elbows but you gently guided him to lay back down, “I really don’t think you are…” Concern weighed heavy in your voice as you cupped his cheeks in your hands to get a better look at his face, “Only one of your eyes is looking at me right now, Johnny.” He swatted at the dust filled air dismissively, shaking his head, “Ah, that’s no problem- I wear glasses anyways.” Yep- par for the course in terms of head injuries. Slowly, you went about examining him, starting at gingerly running your fingers over his scalp to check for blood or lacerations and moving down to his neck and shoulders, “Tell me if you start feeling tired, okay?” Continuing the exam, you pulled up his shirt to assess for broken or bruised ribs and your eyes perversely wandered down to the hem of his shirt that was riding up, showing off his askew belt buckle and the dusting of hair that led below his waistband. Johnny let out an amused chuckle, his accent seemingly stronger post concussion, “Well, that ain’t gonna be happenin’ with the way y’keep touchin’ me, sweetheart…”

Off in the peanut gallery, you could hear Bam and Ryan jeering him from the stands in faux southern accents, “Ain't that the fella on TV?” “Seems like ‘Hollawood isn’t cut out for bein’a cowboy!” “Y’reckon we’ll git on ‘is show?” Completely uncharactic of you, the thought occurred to you to turn around and tell them off for acting like such children in this situation, but before you had a chance to open your mouth, guess who came bounding down the stairs to plop down by his buddy’s side and make sure everything was alright? Steve wiggled in right next to you, “Knoxville, dude! You there?” Johnny blinked, trying to get his eyes to focus on the weird tan blur above him, “Did- was it funny?” Steve grinned in that cute, boyish way he always did, “It was hilarious!” Holding his hand out for a high five, Johnny missed Steve’s hand by a good couple inches before he grabbed his wrist, pressing them together.

Knoxville was chewing Vicodin like Twizzlers to stay upright- and even then he could only barely stagger around, usually having to sling an arm around the shoulders of whoever was closest to him. That isn’t to say the other guys didn’t have their fair share of injuries: for one, Ryan hadn’t been able to sit right since the toy car incident, and for some reason you felt bad for him- a little more than you usually did with set injuries. Maybe it was due to the fact that the guys found it absolutely riveting, especially Bam, “Cmon, aren’t you used’t takin’ it up the ass by now, Dunn?” Turning around in his seat, Chris gave his two cents, “I’m not saying I would’ve gotten the footage you did, but if I was the one who took the car up the ass, I would’ve done it with a little more poise.“ While Steve, who sat curled up against the door sleeping off the antibiotics you gave him for those infected cacti wounds (surprise, surprise!), swatted at Pontius and murmured something about shutting up and letting him sleep. “Aww, Sleep-O’s gettin’ fussy ‘cause he didn’t get his nap?” You could handle this: banter, joking around- this was nice,

Since the usual instigators were out cold, things got pretty quiet in the van for a while until Bam, who was sitting on one side of you, leaned conspiratorially close to your ear, “Hey. Y’know Dunn’s got the hots for you?” Blinking in surprise, you tried to keep your voice low and only managed to stammer out a, “Huh?” All this time you thought he was just being nice to you! However, you had to admit, the idea did cross your mind once or twice…Still, Bam was fucking with you- he had to be. But now that you really thought about it, he really doesn’t seem like the type to make the first move. Gesturing to you and Ry with a black painted nail, his voice dropped to a teasing coo, “I mean, if you’d be up for it, maybe the three of us could-“ Cutting him off before he could finish whatever poorly thought out plan he whipped up to pass the time in the back of the van, Dunn reached behind you and swiftly whacked the back of Bam’s head, cutting him off, “Don’t listen to that idiot.” It took you accidentally sliding against Ryan’s side, practically snuggling in under his arm to realize what Bam had in mind, your cheeks going pink at the images your mind conjured. “Ah! I think she likes that idea!” All you could do was sit there and stew on what the hell just happened.

The cast and crew made a pit stop at his Knoxville’s folk’s place because his cousin Rodge’ had a pretty genius idea for this stunt that made great use outta some old paintball guns he found in the garage. It also helped that the little gang of hellions that were Johnny’s nieces, nephews, and unspecified cousins were more than happy to join in on the fun, taking up arms and firing away at our rowdy gang of misfits, which you had to admit was really fun to watch- especially when Party Boy ‘crashed’ the family reunion, dancing in the back gate wearing that shiny little mankini to be greeted by a barrage of neon splatters of paint. There was just something so endearing about the way Chris could laugh as he got pelted with paintballs while all the other guys were yelping or groaning in pain.

“What in the world’s wrong with that boy?” Rodge shook his head, putting down his gun as the guys hobbled off, resembling fucked up Jackson Pollock style preformance art. Limping over to where you were sat on a lawn chair, Chris still had that smile on his face as he spun around and bent down in front of you at a ninety degree angle, “Hey, Y/N- I think I got shot he-“ Having seen this trick before from Bam, you initially flinched away and your hands flew to cover up your eyes, “Oh!” But the thought occurred to you that Pontius didn’t really have any pants to drop and couldn’t flash his ass if everyone else could already see it, so you slowly peeled your fingers away to find him presenting you with a legitimate injury: one of those trademark C-shaped paintball wounds. Apprehension turned to curiosity as you cocked your head, examining it, “How’d they even get you there…” I mean, it was in his ass crack, which made it a definite infection risk, but this was something you could help with- now, at least, after a month or so doing this shit.

Walking him off to the side of the yard away from any prying eyes, you instructed Chris to pull his Mankini down as far as he can without exposing himself and chuckled that cute, dumb laugh that you’d come to associate with him, “Well, you don’t have to ask me twice!” As you gingerly dabbed a soaked cotton ball against the swelling, purple and red injury, he shivered at the feeling of the cold alcohol, “Ooh!” Not having extensive expereince dealing with asses, you assumed you might’ve done something wrong, “Did that hurt?” “No, ma’am! I think I got another one on my-“ Before Chris could finish turning, you whipped around, simultaneously flustered and shocked. Yeah, this was exactly the kind of thing he was good at: throwing people off just a little. Still, when Pontius was recruited to mess with you, he never got that serious with it, “I’m kidding! But I may have to call you later for some extra medical attention…” Stumbling to your feet, you walked away to where the rest of the guys were getting hosed off, face still bright pink with your voice about three octaves higher, “Anybody got any other injuries? Anybody!”

After what felt like an eternity but was really a little under a week, you arrived in Miami: tired, unshowered, and on the verge of putting in your two week’s notice. Sure, it was fun and all but a part of you knew you might not be cut out for this. You had half a mind to tell everybody to have fun before catching a flight home because you'd really had enough, but for a reason you couldn't really place, you decided to stick around. Maybe it was how nice the sun felt on your skin or the excitement that all of this was finally over with and you could finally take a breather.

Well, not quite. See, the whole reason they were going to Miami in the first place was to film a few water stunts. You’d spent a good chunk of the car ride listening to Bam prattle off about all these stunt ideas they had, namely, “Waterskiing D-Style” stunt- the one where Ryan was bent over and Bam was behind him in a faux humping position, with the two of them wearing waterskis and being pulled by a speedboat across the water- a pretty funny sight gag, sure. But naively assuming nobody could get too injured from relatively safe aquatic sports, you decided to hang back with some of the cameramen and PAs. “Y/N!” Putting an end to social hour, Jeff poked his head in the crew van and waved you over, pointing off into the distance, “Dunn just took a ski to the head- think y’could check on him?”

Rushing across the sand with med kit in tow to where Ryan’s pale, waterlogged body had been dragged inland, you dropped to your knees to peel a few wet, blond strands of hair away from his face to examine the fresh, candy apple red gash on his forehead. Blinking his eyes open, Dunn looked up at you with adoration behind his thankfully equally sized pupils. It wasn’t as serious as some of the other injuries you tended to, but it would need stitches- and soon, so in the meantime you started on cleaning up the affected area with an alcohol wipe. “Wow…You really know how t’take care of us.” Ever since that thing in the car you had been thinking about Ryan more, how unlike the other guys, he was never too awful when he got put up to fuck with you- always a little apprehensive to go too far. Clearing his throat, Dunn glanced up at you, “Hey, y’know when Bam said I kinda had the hots fr’you?” It was around then that he realized that, given the fact he had suffered a head injury, he kind of had a pass to say whatever he wanted with minimal repercussions, “Yeah- he was tellin’ the truth…”

Wait, what? Here- now?! Was this the heat playing games with you? Before you could slap yourself for not considering this sooner, Ryan reached up and gently wrapped his fingers around your wrist, tenderness slipping into his voice that let it slip he wasn't joking, “How about you and I go grab dinner sometime?” From further down the beach, far out of earshot, Dunn’s hump buddy from earlier yelled out to you, “Hey, Y/N! S’he gonna be alright?” Swallowing thickly, you tried to stabilize your voice as you shouted to Bam, “Yeah, he’ll be just fine!”

“Alright! Get the beers!”

[killed-by-choice]

“Sara Roe,” 20 (USA 1972)

In 1972, “Sara” underwent a legal saline abortion in New York. She was 18 weeks pregnant.

Placental tissue was left inside of Sara’s body, where it rotted for three weeks. A D&C was attempted and the now-necrotic tissue was removed, but Sara suffered from septicemia and died six days later on June 18, 1972. Upon autopsy, it was discovered that the damage was even worse than previously thought. In addition to sepsis from the rotting placenta, Sara also had necrotizing endometritis.

Sara was 20 and perfectly healthy before the abortion that left her rotting from the inside out. Her death was preventable, and there was no reason that her one surviving child had to lose their mother and sibling.

Maternal Mortality Associated With Legal Abortion in New York State: Jul. 1, 1970 – Jun. 30, 1972; Berger, Tietze, Pakter, Katz, Obstetrics and Gynecology, 43:3, March 1974, 324. (“Sara” is Case 17)

[alexthebordercollie]

Soooo I made thing. I will probably redraw this in the cannon style in the future. As for my own personal style for drawing GF stuff, I'm still fleshing it out. But I have another AU now. My Hand of God AU has Ford committing to Bill and spending years trapped in a very abusive relationship, also the apocalypse so that's fun. This one's the complete opposite direction. Ford and Fidds accidentally come into possession of a pair of twins, these boys end up being the motivation it took for Ford to cut things off with Bill and do whatever it takes to keep him from ever getting out.

(I've yet to flesh out exactly how these two were born but the boys were created through anomalous means.)

On the left is Nik (Nikola) An adrenalin junkie who loves adventure and is an absolute menace to society as is the Pines tradition. On the right is Newt (Newton), a pastel-loving soft boy who will cry if you tell him pink is a girl color and gets overly attached to every weird critter Ford brings home.

Nick is missing a pinkie because Bill cut it off while possessing Ford when he was a baby as a threat. Trying to scare Ford into compliance by threatening to kill the boys. Ford did some very unsafe brain surgery on himself to make it impossible for him to ever sleep again. Cutting off Bill's ability to control him for the most part.

Portal is gone, still living in Gravity Falls though, and keeping an eye out for anyone Bill might try to manipulate. Fidds and his wife are divorced. Emma has primary custody but Tate stays with them in GF during the summers where he often bullies Nik and Newt. But Nik and Newt don't tell their dads about it because they know how much Fidds loves his other son and they don't want to make things complicated for him. Tate is just taking out his frustration over his parents failed marriage on his half-siblings. Fidds takes the twins with him when he visits Tate and the rest of his family in California for Christmas. Ford stays behind because Emma hates him and he doesn't want to deal with her family.

Ford and Fidds aren't married both cause it's not legal yet but also tbh not sure they ever would regardless just cause Ford is pretty disinterested in those sorts of formalities. Whatever it is they have going for them right now works for him.

Heavy thoughts below the cut.

TBH I made myself sad thinking about autistic people and our relationships. The way we love isn't always obvious to NT people and it can sometimes feel like you're not good enough for anyone because loving people in the way you're expected to is such a struggle.

Sometimes I see people frame Ford^2 as this completely unrequited thing and it reminds me of the experience of loving people very intensely but feeling unable to prove it because it's so difficult to live up to the standards most people have in relationships.

I like Fiddlestan as a ship it's cute and a fun idea and I get the appeal but there's a little nagging thought in the back of my head that it kind of implies Ford's neurotypical brother is better. More capable of real love. That Ford was never good enough. Not to say Fiddleford didn't deserve better but the idea that these two couldn't have worked makes me kind of depressed for kind of personal reasons so I wanted to make up a universe where they do.

Not to say there isn't plenty of material of Ford and Fidds reconnecting as old men and making it work but the fact they lost so much of their lives to bad decisions is still sad.

[merakiui]

Hey, so you've written step-bro and step-son scenerios for the twst boys. But do you have any thoughts about a step-dad scenerio?

(cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, stepcest, age gap but reader is written to be 18+)

Stepfather Crewel who loves you so much (and not in the platonic way). He wants you to know real, true love so that you won't fall for someone with a rotten personality or a penchant for doing scummy things! You should have high standards when it comes to your partners! Don't settle for the bare minimum. After all, your stepfather always has your best interests in mind. When it comes to fashion or makeup, he offers the best advice and insight. So this (allowing him to train your body to respond to all of his touches and words) shouldn't be any different. He's just getting you ready for when you inevitably do this with your lover (which will likely never happen because you only need your stepfather).

Vil is much the same. Your stepfather is so critical of your partners. Every one you've since brought home to meet him has yet to pass his test. You understand that your stepfather is only looking out for you, but does he have to be so harsh all the time? His standards are much too high. T_T at this rate, you don't think you'll ever find someone who'll he'll approve of. And so what? It's not like you need his approval; you're an independent adult. But then your last lover breaks your heart and the only one there to offer consolation is your stepfather. And with the alcohol numbing your logic and lowering your guard, you find yourself falling into bed with him.

Stepfather Floyd took to you right away! He's so sweet and caring, thinks you're the sweetest thing. You think he's very fun. He always brings you a little something from his time at work (he never discloses the exact specifics of his job, though). Sometimes it's a fancy-looking ring or a cute plushie. The gifts range in opulence and price, but you love all of them because they're genuinely thoughtful. To anyone else, this just looks like a stepfather spoiling his stepchild. But all of these gifts are courtship. Floyd loves you.

Stepfather Riddle... oooo maybe you sleep around and he doesn't like the fact that you're always sneaking out and being so disobedient. He's all for a spot of (safe and legal) fun every now and then, but you live such an unsafe, carefree life. As your stepfather, he worries for you. So he thinks he'll teach you a lesson. It's easy to catch onto your pattern. You think you've outsmarted him, so it's a shock when he pokes his head out the window and offers his hand to help pull you up. Oh, did you think you were being sly? Please, nothing slips past Riddle; he's not stupid. Obviously you don't know any better. You argue you're an adult, but Riddle's older and wiser. He bends you over his knee and spanks you for every week you've taken to slipping out of the house. You're his only stepchild; he just wants you to be safer and to stop opening your legs for anyone and everyone.

STEPFATHER ROLLO. orz he makes you help out around the church. You'd rather be doing anything else, but Rollo insists it's good for children and adults to help their parents when it's needed. You stick your tongue out at him. He's not your real father; you don't care. Rollo tries to build a happy rapport with you, but you're having none of it. It's frustrating, even more so because he genuinely cares for you (perhaps more than what's considered normal and healthy). He's not quite sure he wants to let you leave the house when you start expressing your desire to move out and pursue work/school elsewhere...

[dreamilysporadicpervert]

S. Aizawa | Why was I angry...?

Brain came up with a thing after a very restless nap. If anything doesn't make sense, let me know. Art belongs to aleksnerd.art on instagram.

CW: female reader, vaginal penetration, unsafe sex, student/teacher For purposes, the reader is legal and on birth control (I have no idea how to add warnings, so good luck?)

MINORS: DO NOT INTERACT!

I've never really gotten along with my homeroom teacher, but I find myself trying to remember why as I grip the sides of the locker room bench, my body jolting with the impact of his hips into mine.

I'm currently the living definition of 'face down, ass up', and Aizawa's fingers are digging into my hips hard enough that I'm sure I'll have bruises tomorrow. Oh well.

A small part of me is afraid of what will happen if someone catches us like this. A very small part. The rest of me is desperate for him to continue, my pussy swallowing his length greedily with every delicious thrust.

We've already made quite the mess, a combination of my own juices and his cum running down my legs. It's also splattered all over the bench and the floor.

I let out a soft moan as he drives even deeper inside, stretching my walls and massaging my g-spot just right. You'd think it was his job, with how efficiently he does it.

I manage to peek back over my shoulder, and I find him watching me, seemingly reveling in my reactions to his movements. There's a twinkle in his eye that tells me he's not even close to finished.

I try to meet his thrusts with movements of my own, desperate to feel myself tip over the edge again. I know it won't be long until I have what I want, but I'm impatient.

My legs start to tremble as I approach yet another orgasm, and I know Aizawa can feel it coming because he smirks and lets out a prideful huff.

Just before I hit the edge, he slows down, giving a sinister chuckle as I instinctively whine and press myself against him. He leans down until his chest is pressed against my back, his breath tickling the shell of my ear.

"You're more agreeable when you're like this," he whispers in a low, husky voice. "Do you want more?"

I whine in answer, and he pulls almost all the way out, until just the tip of his dick is nestled inside. He growls into my ear, "If you want it, say it. Tell me how much you want it."

I huff softly, my thoughts still reeling. "Please, don't stop. I want it... It feels so good. Please." I beg for more, looking back at him, feeling his hot breath on the side of my face as I do.

"Good girl," Aizawa rumbles softly, leaning back up and giving my ass a playful slap before he starts fucking me again, harder this time.

I moan in a mixture of surprise and delight, my eyes rolling back in ecstasy as he gives me exactly what I wanted.

I feel the coil tightening in my stomach, and my legs start to tremble again, matching perfectly with the quivering of my walls around him.

As I get close, I feel his grip tighten and his breathing become shallow, making soft, desperate sounds as he feels his own orgasm creeping up.

I clench down around him as my release slams into me in waves, and I feel his dick twitch as he fills me to the brim with his hot cum.

This time, he slows down until he stops, and he reaches forward to caress my hair. "Are you alright," he asks, his voice surprisingly soft.

It takes me a moment to answer, my cheek almost glued to the bench with drool. "I... I think so," I answer, my own voice soft and hoarse.

My chest is still heaving from the intensity of my orgasm, and I am almost positive that if he wasn't still holding me up, my knees would give out.

"...We made quite a mess. Let me get you cleaned up," he says, still in that soft voice. He pulls out, pulling me gently into a standing position.

I lean back against his chest, his strong arms supporting most of my weight. We stay like that until my breathing goes back to normal and my legs stop trembling.

Without a word, he leads me over to the shower and turns on the water. After he checks the temperature, he gets in with me, helping me wash my hair and my back.

Normally, we're at each other's throats, but now it's almost like we're two different people. I still can't remember why we were arguing earlier, or how I ended up bent over the bench with his dick rearranging my insides.

I feel a bit awkward as we shower and clean up our mess from on and around the bench, but I'm afraid to break the silence.

I look over at him as he zips his hero suit back up, and he catches me looking. He smirks and reaches over to readjust my uniform, his touch lingering a bit.

Suddenly, he speaks up. "You still have to write the essay on the pros and cons of your quirk and your plans for your future as a hero," he says, his voice returning to its normal tone, as if nothing happened.

As he says it, I remember why we'd been arguing: I didn't want to do the same essay that I've done over and over before. I feel stupid for it, but also oddly... thankful? I nod, confirming that I will do the essay without further complaint.

He watches me stand in silence for a bit, and his eyes soften just a bit before he does another thing that's out of character: he pulls me in for a hug.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he whispers into my ear. "It was better than I'd imagined, (Y/n)."

I look up at him, processing at dial-up speed. I blush when it clicks. "Maybe... we could do it again sometime," I ask softly, feeling a bit hopeful.

"I thought you told me you couldn't read my mind," he whispers back with a playful smirk. I bury my face into his chest and he just holds me for a while.

By far, this is the best day I've ever had.

[like-it-or-not-i-am-alive]

Sitting and thinking about how we have absolutely no idea of what is to come.

This could be a stressful four years of financial difficulties. They could literally take away our human rights. Or both.

People are either in the streets celebrating or crying in their beds. There are people playing optimist saying it couldn't possibly be that bad. There are people saying it's WWIII coming.

I don't know what to expect. I want to be realistic. I don't care about cutting corners and sparing feelings. I want everyone to be prepared. I just... I don't know what to prepare for except for the worst. It's so much better to be prepared for doom and meet nothing than it is to realize too little too late that doom has come to your door.

I have witnessed how quickly things can change when they want to. Florida was once a very queer friendly state. At least in major areas. I used to pride myself in Ybor's strong drag history. Our large pride parades and our ample youth support. There were bad patches, of course, it's always going to be rough outside of the cities... and lets be honest, safe for queer people didn't mean the same thing fifteen years ago that it does now. Safe for queer people fifteen years ago was facing less harassment and leading somewhat normal lives.

When I was in high school, gay marriage was legalized across the country. Most states, including Florida, had discrimination protection. Things were getting better.

It took only a year for things to hit the fan. So quickly, Desantis was able to rip my safety away. It took no effort. None. People STILL struggle to get gender affirming care. They tried to ban it even for COUNSELLING.

I wasn't yet on HRT when that happened. It was one of my big motivations to start. I had the privilege and luck to start HRT because I am on my parent's health insurance plan. Plus, I was able to pay out of pocket for the prescription so that if something like this happened I wouldn't get dinged.

Even with my privileged access to insurance and ability to drive a long distance, it took me a long time to start. I wanted to start months before I was able to.

They then tried to criminalize trans people with updated gender markers. They attempted to target trans people by enforcing all Florida IDs to have their AGAB gender marker. Those with updated licences could face a fine or even jail time.

That was VOTED IN. THEY VOTED IT IN.

The only reason it did not fly was because a (very merciful and kind) judge shot the fucking bird as it flew. Stating it was CLEARLY targetting and therefore against the state constitution.

Did you know I didn't even know about it until it was voted in? They snuck it in. They could do it because they wanted to.

When we entered 2024, one of the first deaths of a transgender person was in Florida.

It took only a year for Florida to go from a safer state for queer people to being marked UNSAFE for queer travel.

It took only one year.

I don't trust the "it won't happen" anymore. I was told that so many times, and then it DID. It DID happen.

I don't know what to expect from this. Like I said, I want to be realistic. I just don't know where to look for direction anymore.

I'll be working on some resources.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask. I may be able to answer them. If not, I'll at least post it so someone else might be able to.

Keep your heads up, kids. Keep your ears sharp and your eyes focused. We will be ready to face this. Whether that means facing rising grocery bills or facing a militia, we will be ready. Together.

[icarusredwings]

you ever think about well.. better than the alternative being a wade song? like,, guy who thinks he's broken wanting to be a good father and someone who can be loved.. like it's him isn't it?

First. This is my 1001th post, and Im up to 506 followers! Thank you, everyone, for everything!

Secondly- Congrats. You made me cry. I litsened to this and thought about it very deeply. Its something thats always resonated with me becuse I KNOW the voices in his head are constantly having anxiety on whether or not Ellie is going to get herititary cancer or not and itll he all his fault. If she'll get herititary mental illness. He worries if HIS own mental illness is going to prevent him from being a father. He spirals in so much worry that shes going to end up thinking hes ugly or gross. That she won't want him as a father, that she would be better off as someone elses kid. But BY GOD if ANYONE tries to take this little girl from his custody theyre going to have to pry her from his cold dead, collared hands.

I actually had a sad idea of Logan helping Wade get his daughter back because they claimed he was a danger to her and that the place they live is unsafe for her. It makes Wade insane. Like actually nuts. It's like he just.. breaks. There's no sympathy, no joking around, constantly crying in pain, no warnings, just plain, quick, silent murder. In this fic I actually had the idea of them getting married "Just to get ellie back" because Logan (as a room mate) can't stand the sight of him absolutely loosing his last purpose of living. So he adopts Ellie legally and shares custody of her, so now hes also her legal guardian and caretaker. "Supervises Wade with his daughter" kind of position and yet he doesn't. Theres no point. He knows Ellie is extremely safe and yes they need to move to a better home, Wade at least wants to live again now that he has Ellie..

The guy holds her so tight every night and plays with her all the spare time he has. Even when hes exhasuted and bloody from work, he still makes time for her. Sure, hes falling asleep at tea parties but at least hes present.

At the time Logan was a single dad of Laura and Gabby too so when they got court house hitched, they didn't tell the girls since yk "Its not like that"

But eventually it DOES become like that and they both have a happy little family of 3 crazy little girls, their crazy dad, and their even crazier papa. Oh and their puppy puppins.

I wont be writing this but if anyone does, tag me!