#wet foot print

[inthecityofgoodabode]

June 2023: Sunday Post

Today’s backyard garden harvest: 

Seen while walking: 

More of today’s backyard garden harvest: 

The corn is looking strong: 

We got a little rain today but these were just the clouds that thundered & threatened while I was grilling but they never delivered: 

Print left by a homo sapiens with trace homo neanderthalensis ancestry (aka me): 

This is the second romaine lettuce that we’re letting go to flower so we can collect seeds. The leaves at this stage are a little bitter (I know because I ate one) but still perfectly edible: 

I don’t think we’ll get any grapes this year. Despite the abundance of pollinators, the flowers just seem to have withered like they weren’t pollinated: 

The view of the grill: 

The view from the grill: 

[angelnumber27]

*he spilled my cup of paint water all over everything idk why I said he spilled watercolors I just woke up girls

I literally walked away for two minutes tops to make coffee and came back to his ass sitting on this water color palette and my painting open after spilling my watercolor water all over it

Look at that face. He knows he did something wrong hahahha

[g-k444]

POV it's your turn to host game night with all your boys so they come around to our place and you get the TV on whilst i get beers for all your friends before everyone gets between tipsy-drunk on their beverage

we start with drunk jenga where i lose and the best punishment that all your male friends can come up with in their drunken fervour is to each spank my ass once

my thighs are clenched tight around pussy which begins pulsing with ancticipation as I'm bent over onto your lap with my ass in the air, recieving a slap from each of your mates that gets more confident by member - the last on going as far as to lift my skirt and expose the thin lacy thong that doesn't cover much, as his hand leaves a red print over my delicate skin

then the next game is snakes and ladders - but instead of choosing to fall down the snake - it's decided that the men can get their cocks out, and I can take off an item of clothing for each time i land on a snake.

it feels almost suspicious how every dice roll seems to lead me to a snake - and how by the end of a short, fifteen minute game, the men end it early, just when i take off my skirt and wear nothing but my lacy bra and sheer panties...

and they move onto twister.

but in this version of twister, they decide that I am the subject - the only one to play... And someone spins for me for each turn, and then have a minute to fuck me in x position to try and make me cum.

I wanted to protest and look to you to tell them no, but the rowdy, drunken men put the mat out and had made the decision before i could protest - spinning the hand so that it was "left hand on red"

I got onto my knees to put my hand there - not wanting to bend over and leave my posterior vulnerable to the men that had no regard for how i felt about the crude game, yet as my knees hit the floor and hand attached onto the mat, I heard metal clinking for just a moment before there was a cock pressed into my behind, penetrating my hole and making a gasp exit my throat as someone pushed their cock into my pussy, slipping in all too easily and snapping their hips against mine rabidly

"so fucken wet, such a good pussy - you hearin' that?"

my cheeks were red with shame that despite my lack of want to be in this situation, my pussy was dripping with slick, wet with subconsious want to be fucked by all these men, in front of all these men.

"that's time. next spin... left foot on blue."

They each fucked me. one by one as i moved my body into different positions and had they come between my legs whilst i cried at the force they hammered themselves into me, simply using me as a vessel to chase their own pleasure.

i didn't cum, but they did - many of them did - shooting them cum into me and laughing as it dribbled back out of my pussy.

they guffawed and took great pleasure when i had to split my legs open from one side of the mat to the other and a fat glob of hot white cum spilled from my pussy and onto the mat, my cheeks burning red as i felt my pussy throbbing at how much i enjoyed the humiliation.

round after round - some chose to use fingers instead, not wanting to get their cocks leaked on my other men's seed - some used a vibrator instead, pressing the vibrating head against my clit and watching as my body shook with overstimulated pleasure, my pussy clenching and opening sporadically and making more cum gush from the creamy white hole, showing what a mess you'd made of my body

at the end of the night when the men zip their pants up and leave, you turn to me and ask whether we could host games night again sometime

despite how broken my body is and how tears stain my cheeks from how much i cried...

i cant help but nod that yes i want that to happen again.

[izvmimi]

cw: this is so goofy. selfship-coded. izuku has a subtle breeding kink (i wrote this what's new). pregnancy mention. condom use. suggestive, minors dni.

you sit warily on the toilet seat, your fiancé right outside the door, and your foot tap tap taps as you wait for the little piece of plastic in your hand to decide your future.

ironically, you don't have the energy for trepidation anymore because you feel like by now you're at this literally every couple of days.

but baby it doesn't feel good?

but don't you want me to feel all of me?

i promise i'll pull out better this time.

just the tip is fine, right?

izuku's outside the bathroom door, giving you privacy as though he wasn't nose deep between your legs just last night, slobbering all over you like a starving puppy presented with a wet meal. for a moment it occurs to you that if you really are pregnant, even if you can clearly handle it financially and emotionally, you'll shove that stick so far up his ass that-

your timer goes off and it's negative.

you sigh.

izuku bursts in at the sound of your voice, immediately uttering a supportive "is everything okay baby?" the shine to his emerald eyes makes you wonder if he actually, deep down, does want you pregnant.

"perfect. no baby."

he grins and kisses your forehead as you adjust your panties up and stand to wash your hands. squishing your cheeks as he has trouble getting his hands off of you, he promises that he'll actually invest in some condoms.

you don't believe him, but you consider making that appointment to your ob-gyn to get an intrauterine device you've been thinking about sooner rather than later.

---

another night comes and he's looked at you like that and he continues to be built like that and you have no choice but to let him do whatever he wants with you, even if it is to drag you not really kicking and not really screaming from your work, going from holding you around your midsection to lifting you up effortlessly so that your crotch is pressed against his face. he sniffs you like an entire dog and you're both terribly embarrassed and terribly aroused by his sheer want for you. izuku is already pressing kisses to your mound through your yoga pants as he carries you to the bed.

"izuku, i still have shit to do!" you argue, but you're holding on tight to his head to keep your balance, as if he would ever let you fall.

"you've worked hard enough," he says, muffled by your legs around his face. "i'm asking politely. may i please have some pussy?"

the fact that he's asking this, just as you land on the bed with a practical bounce is almost offensive. you sit up.

"are you even asking?"

he leans in, grinning as he gets on all fours to descend upon you.

"i mean yeah, of course," he replies, knowing full well that you won't say no as he pulls off his shirt. you shake your head, but your shirt goes over your head as well. he catches your lips in a kiss first, and you sink into the bed under his weight as he practically smothers you in kisses. wet, sloppy, silly, you laugh against each other, groping each other with your hands, and then it occurs to you both at the same time.

condoms.

you pull away, his teeth still grazing at your lower lip.

"izuku, do you have any?"

he blinks for a moment, sitting back on his heels. then his eyes widen.

"yes!"

izuku sounds a little too excited just for condoms, and your eyes narrow, but he practically leaps off the bed and is burrowing through his workbag for something, and you squint, expecting a box.

what he comes up with dries you up so fast you'll need iv fluids.

his grin is wide as he presents to you, proudly, a string of pristine looking condoms, all printed with all might's million watt smile right on the packaging.

"see, i didn't forget!"

a moment of silence passes as you beg the heavens above that your adonis of a partner is not fucking serious about fucking you sideways with his mentor's brand of contraceptive rubbers.

"izuku."

"what?"

"..."

you walk out of the room, immediately, so irate you can't speak.

"WHAT?!" he asks, following you out immediately. "come on!"

there's no way you are coming or cumming anywhere in the next hour. not like this.

you find your seat back at your desk and crack open your hardback textbook as hard as you can, doing your best to ignore the whine his voice has taken. he can actually die of blue balls for all you care.

"come on, it's not that bad!"

you snap your head at him and give him a look, and he immediately recants.

"okay, i'll go out right now and get normal condoms, i promise."

you lick the tip of your index finger and turn the page of your book.

"please, my dick is literally so hard right now, don't you care if i die?"

"perish. let me see," you reply, without turning your head.

"wow!" you can't' help but stifle a laugh at his disbelief. you hear him shift upwards and turn, not even realizing he had been kneeling.

as he stands, you do get a look at his... impressive member. maybe he could die like this, the way that thing is rock hard and waiting desperately for you.

you blink, look at your book, then look back at him. he's looking at you with the puppy dog eyes, and he still looks the way he does and he's still built the way he is, and...

...

moments later, you're folded into a jackknife because your pro hero fiancé somehow always gets his way, but at least, mercifully, his mentor's condom isn't wrapped all over what's pumping in and out of you.

right before your eyes roll back in your head, you can still see all might's smile, and maybe you should have just stuck with the damn pregnancy tests after all.

[baronessvonglitter]

Bad Santa

sleazy mall Santa!Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Word count: 2.3K

Summary: Frantically seeking relief during the Christmas rush, the Santa at your local mall is the last person you'd expect to help.. and the only one who can.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Reader is a hot and horny mess and wears a short skirt. Mall Santa is a perv, but he's your perv. Semi-public masturbation (f). Squirting. Cockwarming. Semi-public sex. Infidelity. Unprotected piv. Oral (m & f receiving). Analingus (f receiving). Possibly illegal use of a candy cane. Creampie. Come swallowing. Santa Joel is a menace and a sleaze but that's what we all need, right?

Author's Note: one of the first things I learned about @strang3lov3 is that we share a deep love for Bad Santa (and Billy Bob in general) so this is written in her honor. Bug, I hope you enjoy Santa Joel, and don't forget to leave out some cigs and whiskey for him on Xmas Eve. (And the latest edition of Hustler. He's an old-school magazine man.)

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

You're home on Christmas break from college and all you want to do is fuck the boyfriend you left behind and have been faithful to for four long, painful months. But the only thing on Derek's mind is doing last minute Christmas shopping.

The mall on Christmas Eve is the last circle of hell.

Derek guides you through the crowd. "Sleigh Ride" plays over the speakers, tinny, bright and cheery. You hate it. You're impatient. You're horny. You need to find a way to get him alone, even just a fingerbang would suffice. For now.

You pass by the huge Christmas tree in the center where the mall Santa waits with bored-looking elves. There's no line, which is surprising given it's the last day for photo ops.

Santa watches as you pass, cheap plastic beard hanging off, revealing gray scruff, his red suit wrinkled and stained. You track his gaze roving over your figure, fully concentrating on the jiggle of your ass under the short skirt you'd picked out in the hopes of getting a quickie.

"God damn," you hear him mutter. "Merry Christmas, babygirl." he calls out.

You glance back and see him pull the beard down, wiggling his tongue at you in a lewd manner.

Fucking sleaze. But your pussy is wet and throbbing, and this is the first bit of attention you've had all day. You respond by stuffing your tongue in your cheek and making a blow job motion. Santa licks his lips and subtly palms his cock over his fluffy red pants.

Derek, oblivious, is walking you towards a department store.

"Mommy said she'd like a new bathrobe for Christmas," he says, bringing you past the awful perfume and makeup counters. You heard right.. Mommy. What the fuck?

"Didn't you already buy her a foot massager?" you ask, barely hiding your disinterest, looking around for a corner where you can blow him.

"She said she wants the robe instead," he says, diligently checking each one on the rack. Pink, green, blue, they're all in ugly prints and you wonder how little he must think of his mom to actually buy her a bathrobe instead of something nice.

But the bigger problem is your aching cunt.

"Derek, come on, just pick one out," you beg him, whispering in his ear, giving his lobe a little bite.

"Calm down, we're in public," he chides you over nervous laughter.

"So? That makes it more exciting." Closer to him as the clothing rack hides you, you cup his crotch, disappointed to find he isn't even remotely hard. Not a problem. You know exactly how to get him started.

"Let's go to the dressing room," you tell him before he can remove your hand. "I'll let you do whatever you want, please, I just need you now.."

"Get a hold of yourself," he whispers harshly, finally pulling your hand from him.

"Derek, what the fuck?" you whisper back. "Your horny girlfriend wants you to fuck her in a semi-public place and you're limp as a fucking noodle. Don't you want to at least watch me get off?"

You're not even allowing him time to think about it, leading him to the men's dressing room, where you're less likely to set off an alarm than the women's. You step into the first stall and push him against the wall, caging him in with your arms.

"Sweetheart, what the hell?"

"Fuck me," you tell him. "Jesus, Derek, I'm pussy on a plate right now." You lift your leg, rubbing against him, but only the fly of his jeans provides any feeling. "And you can't even get hard??"

"You're coming on a little strong," he says faintly, as if he's being cornered by a feral animal. And in a way he is.

You lean back on the little dressing room seat, hiking up your skirt. "At least eat me out, for Christ's sake," you whine, fingers dipping into your dripping-over cunt.

"Darling! You're acting like a crazy person," he says, shielding his eyes as you desperately finger yourself.

"You're such a pussy," you grunt out, breath hitching as you fuck yourself on two, then three fingers.

"You're not wearing any panties??" he says too loud, but you're past caring who hears, or if anyone even walks in. You'll gratefully fuck the store manager and the security guard who'll probably come to haul you away.

Derek keeps his gaze averted as you continue shamelessly fucking your hand, reaching inside your dress to twist your nipple. "Derek.. fuck.. you just gonna stand there and be useless?" You shove a fourth finger in your snatch, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Your boyfriend is deeply afraid as he risks a peek from between his hands covering his face. "You look possessed! You have to stop or someone's going to hear you!"

"Baby, please, put your cock in my mouth," you beg, still working yourself into a frenzy. "Jizz on my face, anything, please!" You're on the floor now, riding your own fingers, your other hand madly strumming at your clit like a perverted version of air guitar.

There's a knock at the dressing room door, to which you answer "Go away, we're fucking" Then you come, squirting all over the bathrobe Derek was going to gift his dear mommy.

"You're lucky that guy didn't turn us into the police," Derek says, tight-lipped as he leads you back towards the center of the mall. "Got it all out of your system?" He's leaving the store embarrassed and minus any gifts.

"Yes," you sigh in exasperation, though it's a bald-faced lie. The need is growing again and you're just a slave to it. Your hands itch to go up your skirt again, to relieve the tension before it becomes unbearable.

And there he is, right where you left him before. Fucking Santa Claus. Like he's been waiting for you this whole time.

"Let's take a picture," you pull on Derek's hand. "Please? End the day on a good note?" You do your best to look contrite but all you're thinking about is sitting on that sleazy man's lap, maybe getting felt up. It'd be fucking amazing to have someone touch you besides your own fingers.

Before he can even protest you're practically skipping past the velvet rope and traipsing up the candy-cane lined walk to the big green chair where Santa sits. His eyes already on you, he pats his lap, tongue peeking out between his lips.

Derek follows after, but is stopped by one of the elves, who tells him he has to pay in advance for a photo.

"And what's your name?" Santa murmurs, discreetly adjusting himself as you seat yourself on his lap. "Does it matter?" you ask, subtly lifting the back of your skirt as he pulls his thick hard cock. "Guess not," he chuckles low and deep, then hisses as your slick tight cunt envelops him.

"My fucking god," he says lowly, doing all he can to keep from thrusting up into you as your boyfriend comes up, all smiles as he watches you get cozy with Santa. He makes as if to sit on Santa's other thigh. "Not you," Santa grunts, his hands on your waist as you clench and throb around him. Derek holds a smile and stands to the side opposite you.

This, this is what you needed. His cock isn't even all the way in, the way you pulse around him pushes him out a little until his hands grab your waist, as if to pose you for the camera, and pushes you down, bottoming out within your sopping wet cunt.

"Gonna leave a mess on me," he murmurs. "Already got my lap soaked. And the suit's a fuckin' rental."

His breath smells like cigarettes and cheap booze and it's only making you want him more. "Fuck, I needed this.."

"You been a good girl this year?"

"Not at all."

He leans in and whispers: "Good girls get presents. Bad girls like you get to sit on Santa's fat cock." He shifts his lap up a little, jutting up into you and you bite your lip to barely suppress a moan.

Your picture is being taken with Santa but you could give a shit. Cockwarming him while he's whispering filth in your ear is the most fun you've ever had.

"Does baby girl want a candy cane?" he asks when it's time for you to go. Derek goes to pay, leaving you alone with Santa again. "We have some more in the elf cottage, You gonna come get one? Gotta earn it first.." His gloved finger traces your arm. "C'mon, ditch the wanker."

The elf cottage is a sparse room for the Santa's Wonderland employees to take their breaks, and right now it's filled with the sounds of flesh slapping on flesh, your moans muffled by the fluffy red hat he put there to quiet you as he bends you over the folding table and rams his holly jolly dick into your stretched needy cunt.

"That's it, baby, fuckin' take it. Let Santa stuff your tight lil' stocking," he grunts.

You moan around the red fluff of his hastily discarded hat, throat burning with all your pent-up screams. Christ, you've never had anyone so disgusting, so eager, so perfect to satisfy this itch that you've been unable to scratch yourself.

And lord, his cock is the most filling thing you'll ever have. You already know he's going to leave you gaping for the next few days.

He watches the ripples of your ass as you throw it back on him, taking his entire fucking shaft so that with each thrust his balls thwack against your inner thighs. "Tight and wet.. lil' bitch in heat, ain't ya?" he teases, circling his hips so you feel him against every square inch of your aching snatch. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, finally spitting out the stupid hat.

"Fuck me Santa, fuck me Santa, fuck me Santa," you chant in broken moans, pushing your hips back, demanding it hard and fast, which he gives even as you come, clamping down all around him in a vise grip.

"Jesus," he growls, pulling out and kneeling behind you. He purses his lips to your dripping cunt, wiggling his tongue against your folds before licking a wide stripe upwards, teasing your asshole with his tongue. You practically shove your ass against his face, his gloved hands spreading your cheeks to get better access.

Grabbing a candy cane from a basket on the table you unwrap it with your teeth and hand it to him. It's thick and hard, and Santa knows just what to do with it. Feasting on both your holes, he takes the candy cane and watches it disappear into your glistening pussy. Hearing your gasp encourages him to keep going, fucking you as his tongue keeps rimming your ass, delving into tease you.

There's a knocking at the makeshift cottage door, then a moment of silence and a "God damn it, Joel, not again!" from the other side. "Fucker's always doing something," the person, most likely one of the elves at the cash register, mumbles and walks off.

He's back inside you, sliding the candy cane between your lips, moving it in and out just as he moves in and out, keeping you spread open so he fill you with every inch. "Babygirl likes havin' somethin' to suck on, don't she?" he mutters, pumping steadily into you. "Gotta be a good girl and tell me where ya want it."

"Inside me," you beg, and he moves double time, hands on your shoulders as he ruts up against you, slamming every inch until you cry out again, knees buckling as you come hard and Santa Joel follows soon after, his jizz painting your insides in warm sticky ropes.

"Lick me clean, baby," he murmurs, and you immediately go to your knees, taking him deep into your mouth, your jaw aching as the tip of him hits the back of your throat. When you gag he keeps you there, your mouth filling with saliva until it spills out from your lips, mixed with his cum. You bob your head on his length, eyes watering as you look up at him, your cunt still throbbing as you start to leak him on the floor.

"Fuuuuck yes," he growls, hand on your head, teeth sinking into his lower lip as you suck him off, and it's a Christmas miracle he's hard again, and he's about to come. He holds your head still and facefucks you, your hands cupping his ass to stop him from going too shallow-- you need to be deepthroated for once in your life.

Santa Joel lets out another curse as he uses you to come, spurting his Christmas magic down your throat. "There's a good girl. Babygirl's thirsty for what Santa's got, huh?" he teases as you greedily swallow every bitter, salty drop.

Clothes are straightened before you leave the little elf cottage, but the look of satisfaction is plain on your face as you suck on the candy cane that you'd been fucked with only moments before. Santa Joel puts his hat back on his head and shuffles over to the helper elves. "I'm goin' out for another smoke break," he tells them.

The head elf puts her hands on her hips. "Joel, you're not allowed to take ten smoke breaks an hour!" But by then he's already on the way out, both middle fingers in the air to salute her.

Derek joins you, looking puzzled as he studies the holiday photo -- there's something off about the face you're making in it. "Did Santa give you that candy cane?"

Grinning, you slurp up the sweet peppermint that still has traces of your own flavor on it. "And then some."

dividers by @saradika 👑

Tagging those who showed interest: @clawdee @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milla-frenchy @myownwholewildworld

@penascigarette @hoelaris

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Playing with his nerves

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader (y/n)

Warnings: once again..SMUT!!!

The door closes behind you as you enter the apartment carrying the PR package that the delivery man just brought to you. You pass through the living room with it where Charles was casually lying on the couch watching TV and enjoying his time off.

"What's that?" He asks stopping you.

"Oh, just some PR package that I got." You nonchalantly say hoping he won't drop the subject.

"For promotion?"

"Mhm." You mutter nodding your head.

"Well, what's in there?"

"Just some lingerie" You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling before you quickly disappear into your bedroom.

"What-? Some what?" It's like your words jolt him and he immediately gets up from the couch and follows after you. "Y/n?" But by the time he reaches the bedroom, you already locked yourself in the bathroom stripping the clothes you were in down and putting on the new set.

"Y/n, open the door" He says banging on the bathroom door.

"In a minute!" Putting your hand over your mouth so that he doesn't hear you laughing, it takes everything in you to pull yourself together and to proceed with the plan you came up with.

Although it was true, they really sent you a two-piece set of red lace lingerie. You didn't really mean to show yourself in that to the whole world, but you wanted play with Charles for a bit and to spice things up knowing that he would go crazy over it.

"You're going to promote lingerie? Take pictures of yourself in it? I hope I got it wrong, y/n." You can already feel the anger building up in his voice, and he hasn't even seen you yet.

Charles sits on the armchair nervously tapping his foot up and down impatiently waiting for you. Minutes later you unlock the door showing yourself in a two piece red sheer set leaning against the door frame and arching your back.

"Oh fuck me.." He sighs under his breath running his fingers through his curls. His brows were furrowed and lips slightly parted at the sight of you.

"What do you think? Looks good? You think it fits me?" You ask provocatively moving closer to him swaying your hips, his gaze never leaving your body. That red sheer lace bra and panties fit you perfectly, hugging your body in all the right places it looked like it was custom made for you.

"I think it looks pretty good. You can help me take the pictures in it if you want to." You slowly straddled him sitting in his lap. He laid back into the armchair admiring you up and down as you positioned yourself on his crotch that was growing by the second. You wrap your arms around his neck and teasingly slow start to rock back and forth against him.

"I think everyone's jaws will drop when they see me in this, no?" He was speechless, all you could hear from him was his heavy breathing. You had all the control over him, but that didn't last for long.

"Ahh" You hiss as his hands find your waist, his fingertips leaving white prints on your skin from how tightly he gripped it.

You could feel his temperature rising with every word that left your mouth. His gaze was angry, but full of lust for you. You knew exactly what you were doing. Getting him mad hard, you knew how to do it best.

"You don't know what you just got yourself into. You better stop talking now." It feels like forever since he said anything. He makes you wrap your legs around him as he stands up with you and walks you over to the bed roughly throwing you down.

"You really think I'd let you post a picture of yourself wearing this?" He asked as he took off his t-shirt and pants tossing them to the side before hovering over you. "Cause if you do, fuck baby, then you're even crazier than I am." He attaches his lips to your neck sucking on it, then slowly starts making his way down your body leaving sloppy wet kisses all the way down to your panties.

"You think you can forbid me things?" You dare to ask.

And he could. You knew he could, there was no arguing about that. You just wanted to push his buttons.

"Oh, just watch me." He chuckles pushing the sheer material aside gliding his fingers over your wet pussy. You grip the sheets as his long fingers enter you pumping in and out making you buck your hips up begging for more.

"Charles.."

"Look at you. Already clenching around my fingers, and I haven't even fucked you yet." The pace of his fingers quickened while his other hand grabbed your butt. You were a whimpering mess beneath him. You loved it when he took control, it turned you on, he could make you cum just by his words.

You felt yourself getting closer and just when you wanted to cum all over his fingers, of course, he pulled them out you bringing them closer to his lips and licking them clean.

"So sweet"

"No.." You cry out squinting your eyes. He doesn't give you time to complain but quickly turns you over so that your butt is on full display for him. He collects your hair into a ponytail pulling on it and grinding his hard cock against your butt as you arch your back for him.

"I can't wait to shove my dick inside you. It's so fucking hard. You feel it? I'm gonna ruin you for being such a brat." He groans into your ear. You try to grind your hips against the mattress to get any kind of the friction to your throbbing clit.

"Please, Charles, please" You sounded pathetic. You don't remember the last time you needed him as much as you do now. You don't know what you just got yourself into. You remember the words.

He did warn you tho.

" I'm sorry I can't hear you over all the noise you're making. You want me to fuck you? Hm?" You don't even have to turn around to know that he had a smug smirk on his face watching you struggle like this.

"Oh fuck" You wince at harsh spanks across your ass that echoed through the room.

"Red prints of my hand on your ass look too good with this set. They match the shade you know? You wanna show them how you're taking me like a big girl?" He growls. He was getting impatient to bury himself deep inside you.

The sight of you lying so helpless and moaning his name was driving him crazy so he turned you over on your back again and without any hesitation he thrust into you. You were drenching him, he could literally hear how wet you were from slapping of your skin. Gasping into each others mouth both of you drunk off of pleasure, he wrapped his hand around your neck.

"You look so good like this. When you're struggling to breathe underneath me, fuck, it makes me go wild. You like it when I fuck you hard don't you?" He asks and you nod digging your nails into the skin on his back.

"You could've just asked me then, you don't have to play with my nerves every damn time" He says through gritted teeth, clenching his jaw. The smirk on your face outrages him.

"Oh you think that's funny?" He asks slamming into you as hard and as far as it goes hitting your deepest spot making you wince in pain.

"Fuck Charles, it hurts" You cry out and regret provoking him in a heartbeat.

"Then better start behaving." His movements were slowly starting to get sloppier, holding back and waiting for you was getting too difficult. Both of you were panting, moans escaping your lips, beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. "I'd love to finish inside you like every night, fuck, but since you wanna promote this, I'll just have to cum all over that red bra and panties you know?"

Your breath was hitching with his every thrust, your walls starting to clench as you creamed all around him. Him hearing you scream out his name and seeing your eyes roll back sent him over the edge and he quickly pulled out of you cumming all over you just like he promised to.

"Fuuuckk ahh.." He was growling out loud while jerking himself off watching his cum spray all over. "You can take pictures now before you hand that set over to me."

[m00nl1ghts1vt]

Pierced II - Chris Sturniolo

Part One Based off this request Pairings - bfb!Chris x fem!Reader Warnings - MDNI, smut, masturbation, oral fem receiving, oral male receiving, unprotected sex, p in v, titty play, pet names (baby), praise kink, strong language. (comment if I missed any!) Summary - After Matt catches you and Chris in the hallway, Chris dismisses him, and takes you to his room, easily giving you the best fuck of your life. W/c - 2896?? A/n - With Pierced being one of my top liked post, I had some requests for a part two! This is my first smut and I'm not too experienced writing smut sooo 🫣 Posting this before I clock in lol. I haven't proofread this yet so please forgive me if there's typos/mistakes!! Tags - @lvrsturniolo @thepubeburgler @unknvhx @m11rx @ribread03 @emely9274 (let me know if anyone else wants on my tag list!) Masterlist Current series - City of Love

Chris keeps you under his trance as Matt shuts his bedroom door. The anticipation of his next words has your heart in your stomach. Chris always had a flirty personality but something was different about tonight. The look he had in his eyes told you he was standing on business, “my room?” His voice breaks you of your train of never-ending thoughts. 

You nod eagerly, not letting your mouth form the words. A smirk pulls at Chris lips and he reaches out, looping his finger around the drawstring of pajama pants once again. You follow close behind as he leads you down the hall and to his bedroom. You watch as Chris kicks the door open with his foot, pulling the string tighter and making your bottoms bunch up at your waist. Your heart thumps as you enter his room, closing the door behind you. Chris leads you to his bed, sitting down, and guiding you between his legs. He looks up at you, a seductive smirk stretched across his lips, “I can still see, right?” 

Now that he has you up close and personal, he wanted to take advantage of it. Chris never hooked up with a girl with pierced nipples and seeing that photo earlier in the night not only sparked his curiosity, it revealed some sort of new found kink for him. All he knew was he wanted to pay as much attention to your breasts as you’d let him. 

You fight with your own brain that’s telling you not to do anything stupid but when Chris places his hands on your hips, running them down your thighs like he’s admiring the curves he always knew you had, all those logical thoughts go out the window. “Mhm,” you muffle out, locking your eyes on his. His eyes are filled with nothing but lust and passion as he tightens his grips around your thighs, and pulls you closer to him. You take the hint, straddling him before he scoots back on the bed to make the position more comfortable. His hands travel from your waist and up to your neck, pulling you down so he can press his lips to your. Your lips move against his like they’re in sync with each other. His kiss is a lot more gentle and patient than you expected. So many thoughts wander through your mind while Chris runs his hands up your shirt, groping your breasts through your bralette. Let's be honest, you weren’t expecting a hookup tonight, so you weren’t prepared in any way. You had hello kitty pajama pants on with a white tank top, a white lacy bralette and a pair of cute strawberry printed boyshorts underneath. The slight stubble down below being the main give away, tonight took you by surprise. Your outfit was not screaming ‘fuck me’ but your body definitely was. 

Deciding against your logical thoughts, you slip your shirt over your head. Within seconds, Chris is attacking your chest and stomach with wet sloppy kisses, the warmth of his lips against your skin makes you shiver. “That picture was so sexy,” he muffles, dragging his lips against your skin. “You don’t know how long I've been wanting to do this,” Chris looks up, the lust never leaving his eyes. His hands find their way underneath your bralette and he massages you gently. His fingers glide over your nipples lightly, hitting the cold metal each time. A small whimper rolls off your tongue, making him look up at you, “take this off for me.” 

You tug at each side of your bralette, sliding it over your head and letting it his the mattress next you, “fuck y/n.” Chris couldn't help himself, both of his hands immediately cup your breasts. “So fucking pretty,” he compliments before snaking an arm around your waist and attaching his mouth to your left breast. Your mouth forms an O-shape at the sudden contact, and you run your hand through his hair as flicks his tongue against your pierced nipple. His unoccupied hand travels up to your right breast, trailing lightly around your areola before pinching at your sensitive nub a little too hard. You suck in a sharp, Chris notices very quickly, parting himself with a barely noticeable popping noise when he pulls away, “too much?” 

“N-no it’s fine,” you tell him. It’s almost like you feared he’d stop, and that was the last thing you wanted. In the back of your mind, you knew he wasn’t going to, and you knew you’d be getting fucked sensless by him tonight at the rate it was going. Pushing your sane thoughts to the back of your head, “here. Lay down,” his voice raspier than before. You do exactly as you're told, scooting off his lap and onto his bed, laying back on the pillow as Chris hovers over you. Engulfing you in a heated kiss once again, he lets his hands wander all over your body, paying attention to the only naked part of you the most. Needing more of him, you roll your body against his as he slips his tongue in your mouth, letting it dance with yours. Before it gets too heated he pulls away, pressing his forehead against yours, “you wanna stop?” 

His question taking you off guard, “what, no, why?” you ask, trying to catch your breath he sucked out of you. “I don’t want to,” you blurt out in a whiny tone. You were desperate for him at this point, and he’s barely even done anything. Chris raises his eyebrows at you, awe etched across his face, “no?” You shake your head almost immediately, “not now,” pushing your hips against his. His tongue darts across his lips, and his eyes trail down to your breasts, his hand following quickly after, “you sure, Y/n?” His bright blue orbs locking you in for the millionth time tonight, his gaze was hypnotic, making it impossible to say no to, not that you planned on it. You let out an impatient huff, “Chrisss,” stretching his name out, making Chris smirk. Little did you know, your pleas only turned him on more. He wanted to hear you whine his name while his cock was buried deep inside on you, hitting spots you didn’t even know were there.

“Then take these off,” he commands, tugging at your hello kitty pajama pants. You lift your hips up, letting him slide your pants down your legs. You watch as he tosses them over his shoulder, not caring where they land. Chris runs a finger over your clothed heat, making you squirm under his touch. You had been in his room less than ten minutes and he already had a pool of wetness collecting in your panties. It was nothing you had experienced before. His touch was too gentle for you - too caring. 

You watch as Chris takes the outside of his index finger, dragging it along your slit, applying just enough pressure to make a moan slip from your lips. “Quiet baby,” he looks up at you, “don’t want to wake anyone, do we?” 

The way Chris is rubbing you has your head spinning circles. You barely process what he’s saying before you reply, “mmm- no,” you manage to get out. “Good, stay real quiet for me, mmkay?” he tells you before hooking his fingers in the sides of your panties and pulling them down quickly, and discarding them much like your pajama pants. Redness finds its way to your cheeks, remembering you hadn’t shaved the last couple days. Normally, you’d come prepared and look pretty but you weren’t expecting a random hookup with your best friend's brother.

The passion in Chris’ eyes only intensifies when he sees you exposed and under his control. Crouching down until he’s eye level with your heat, placing a light kiss on your bundle of nerves, earning another whimper from you. He didn’t care about the little hair poking and prodding at his lips, he wanted as much of you as you’d give him. His eyes lock themselves on yours, keeping you in a trance as he uses his tongue to his, and your, advantage. Your mouth forms the same O-shape as earlier, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better view of the beautiful man lapping at your folds. A smile pulls at his lips but quickly disappears when he wraps his hand around your thigh, pulling you closer, so he can can as much of you as possible. His mouth never leaves your heat as he pulls you closer, making his teeth rub against your clit. Unexpectedly, the impact felt really fucking good. “Fuck Chris,” you moan out before throwing your head back. 

“M’sorry” his voice comes out muffled since his mouth is still pressed against you. His immediate thought was that he was too rough. “Please keep going,” you tell him, tugging a hand through his hair once again. Chris grants your wish, flicking his tongue against your faster than before. You bury your bottom lip between your teeth as an attempt to bite back your moans, but once Chris pushes his middle finger inside you, you can’t hold back anymore. “Chrisss,” you stretch out. Your back arches off of the bed at the feeling of something finally penetrating you. Your last senseless hookup being weeks ago, you were dying to get yours off. Not that you couldn’t do it yourself, it wasn’t the same as having a male presence. Chris easily before your favorite fuck after tonight. Before you can adjust to his middle finger, he adds his ring finger too. You buck your hips at him as your way of telling him you were enjoying it. You watch Chris as he gently pushes his fingers in and out of you, flicking his tongue against your clit. The warm sensation of his tongue against you and his fingers roughly sliding in and out becomes too hard to hold back, so you reach for a pillow to drown out your cries of pleasure. 

“Fuck fuck, oh my god. Chris!” your moans come out muffled by the pillow but Chris can still hear you. Hearing you call his name only gives him more confidence to go crazy, darting his tongue against your folds while pumping his fingers at a fast pace. Repetitive little ‘uh’s fall from lips as your legs quiver, and your hands fist the pillow as he builds you up to your climax. Right as you’re about to let go, he pulls away. The ghost of his lips making you whine at him, throwing the pillow off of your face, “Chris,” you groan at the loss of contact, only wanting needing more of him.

“Tell me baby,” Chris sounds as he rubs a hand down inside of your thigh, “tell me what you want,” brushing his lips against your knee and leaving a soft kiss. 

“Fuck me,” you whimper, “I need you to fuck me,” pulling your body up from the mattress, and smashing your lips into his. “Please,” you practically beg after pulling away, letting your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips, “I need you right now.”

Whatever magic spell Chris had you under was extremely impressive - and hard to get away from. No man had ever made you feel the way he did and he hadn’t even been inside you yet. Chris nods with urgency, stepping off of the bed to undress himself. Almost like an instinct, your hand makes its way between your thighs to pleasure yourself while you wait for him to undress. Your free hand finds its way to your breast, lightly clamping your nipple between your index finger and thumb. After Chris undresses, he hovers over you, taking in the amazing view of having the girl he’s wanted for the longest, masterbating in his bed. Dragging a thumb across your bottom lip and trailing it down to the breast you aren’t fondling. He pinches lightly at your nipple, “can’t wait for me, huh?” his voice stays hoarse from the groans he had been swallowing all night, “doesn’t look like you need me.”

His words make you stop abruptly, your hand flying from your swollen clit to his erection in one quick movement. He jumps at the contact, squeezing his eyes shut. “I told you I need you, so c’mere,” you bat your eyelashes at him, not letting him go as he takes a step forward. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m leaving and we’re never mentioning this again,” the words come out a bit more domineering than normal but you were tired of waiting. 

Chris’s mouth drops, mimicking the same O-shape that was stuck on your face when he had his head buried between your thighs. You couldn’t tell if he was turned on or taken back, knowing him he was probably both. You watch him as he sinks down next to you, letting his hands roam your body until they reach your heat once again. “Fuck,” he goans as he rubs you. You take it as the perfect opportunity to wrap your lips around his cock, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking as much of him as you can in your mouth. “S-so fucking wet. So go-od, fuck,” he groans, the warm sensation of your head bobbing on his cock makes it hard for him to focus on pleasuring you. You felt like it was only right if you gave him amazing head just like he did to you. Chris’s hand rubs your back each time you pull back and push forwards like he’s giving you silent support, letting you know he enjoys it. As soon as he starts bucking his hips, indicating he’s close to finishing, you make sure to pull away, leaving him the same way he left you - needing you. 

A wild smirk stretches across his face and he opens his mouth to speak, “ahh fuck you,” he groans, earning a giggle from you. Chris positions himself between your legs. Chris rubs a few circles along your clit as he lines himself up with your opening. He applies pressure, pushing through your fold and into your body slowly. A loud moan escapes your lips making him look at you. His bottom lip clamped between his teeth, “Shhh I know, baby,” his voice soothes you in a way and you close your eyes. Chris lets his body hover over you closely, leaning down to your ear as he lets you adjust to his size, and trailing sloppy kisses from your ear to your neck. You buck against him, signaling him to move. Chris takes initiative, slowly pulling back and pushing deeper into you, earning a gasp from you. 

Chris rocks his hips back and forth, catching a rhythmic pattern, and hitting that certain spot inside of you. Your eyes widen at the feeling of your g-spot finally getting plowed into, something you’ve been needing for so long. “F-fuckk Chris,” you manage to get out, your voice getting stuck in your throat at first. In one swift motion, he pushes both of your legs to your chest so he can get better access to your dripping pussy. His other hand falls to your clit, rubbing it vigorously until your legs start to shake uncontrollably. He lets out a low chuckle, “already?” 

“Ahh- I can’t,” you whimper as fucks you into a blissful state, “please, please, Chris.” Your begging only gives him the motivation to go harder, pulling all the way out, and thrusting into you until you’re on the base of his cock. He continues the same motions, making your body shake against your own will. He props your legs up on his shoulders, letting them part slightly so he can cower down down to you. Chris peppers wet kisses all over your chest, pressing a few to your lips. As he fucks you into an incoherent state, your vision becomes fuzzy and clouded with white spots. Finally giving in to the warm tingling sensation in your stomach, you let your eyes roll back, “oh my- Chrisss!” 

Hearing you moan his name gives him the same familiar urge to fuck you to an obliterate state of mind. Small moans and cries fall from your lips while Chris plows deep inside you, filling you up right after you climax. He pulls out, earning a hiss from you, the loss of contact only makes you want him more. He lets his body collapse on top of you, laying a head on your chest, and planting another sloppy kiss against your right breast. 

“That was crazy good,” he pants before looking up at you. A smile spread across your lips as you come down from the high he just gave you, “crazy fucking good,” you tell him. A chuckle falls from his lips, earning a giggle from yours. 

Chris’s touch was too attentive, and you knew you’d be back for more. He gave you the best fuck of your life, easily. You felt pampered while he was fucking you, like you were the only thing that mattered to him, and for the moment you weren’t wrong. After seeing your love faces and cries of pleasure, he was head over heels for you, and he didn’t give a fuck what anyone had to say about it. He was determined to make you his.

[writing-mlm]

Is it real?

Summary: It’s thanksgiving, current plan: ignore your family, backup plan: stay for Alfred’s left overs. Pairing: Damian Wayne x Male reader Wc: 7.1k A/n: I saw comments asking for part 2 so… rushed this out bc Thanksgiving is like… two(??) days away Warning: mentions of homophobic family but they’re silent the whole time, nothing negative is really just it’s just the feeling of knowing that they are

Damian had always known he liked men, there wasn’t one defining moment in his youth where it clicked. He didn’t watch some movie and fall in love with the lead actor, he didn’t have a love-at-first-sight moment that made everything make sense. It’s just something that’s always been. But falling for you had been something that had been gradual. 

At first, you were just some intern with a loud laugh and clearly hung out with not the best people. He’d seen you in the hallway of Gotham University, which was a surprise considering how large the campus is and he grew a little suspicious. He’s Robin, of course, he’s going to be suspicious of a coincidence. 

But falling for you had been incredibly easy when he looked back at it. He just remembers that one random night, after work and school, on your way back from patrol where he looked at you as you sang along (badly, he’d tease you and you’d say it was on purpose) to your patrolling playlist. It was this warm feeling that washed over him, his stomach tossed up and he was thankful that he got to spend his days next to you. It made him realize he’d been falling for a while now and in that moment, it all just felt right. 

Truly Damian had never expected love to be that simple. He had expected it to be something akin to trials of battle. Something he had to defend like he defended himself. How grateful he is that he was wrong about something. 

He considers himself lucky in that regard. 

He looks at you as the two of you sit in the garden, looking at the fallen white snow cloaking the nearly barren bushes. The cold is nipping at his nose and it’s starting to snow again. His pants are wet and cold, his hands tense with what he thinks are the early signs of frostbite. But you look lovely, you look like everything he wants and more. 

A part of him wonders if he deserves this. If his happy ending is something he has been able to get; if he’s atoned for his past. If the blood he’d split has finally dried and he’s able to truly move along. But he tries not to remind himself about his past, focusing on his present or whatever stupid thing Grayson always preaches about.

Sighing, he taps the cold bench with his knuckles before standing up. 

“I believe father should be done talking with your family,” He says and you hum, following after him. You walk hand in hand, your bodies begging for warmth. He notes the recent footprints that aren’t his or yours and figures it was Diana. She’d been wearing kitten heels and that’s the print of them. It makes him smile, figuring she probably got the hint. 

He glances at you as the two of you walk in tandem; he’s known about your family issues for a while. Sworn to secrecy because you didn’t want the others to pity you or try to somehow make up for your family’s shortcomings. You knew his family; you knew how much they liked you and how if they knew the truth, how your family wouldn’t even be allowed to step foot inside. 

He doesn’t know why, honestly he’s tried to imagine it, but you still love them. You still answer their texts, you still wish them a happy birthday even though they rarely do the same, and you haven’t spoken truly ill of them to anyone but him. 

You believed you never did anything remarkable; born to live in the middle child’s role for the rest of your life and he cannot imagine that. 

Gotham University is comparable to Ivy League in almost every regard. You managed to be one of his father's best interns long before you’d gotten your powers. You had enough self-preservation and drive to uproot your entire life, growing used to the harsh environment of Gotham alone. You’ve been beaten and broken enough times to make a grown man quit and yet, you put on the suit night after night, fighting crime with a joke and a smile. You had literally no one in your corner for years and yet he watches as you smile at the snow falling on your nose. 

He knows you’re incredibly strong and he wishes nothing but the best for you; which is why he’ll proudly wear your relationship on his sleeve. 

You look at him, feeling his intense gaze and he grins, kissing you again. 

“You okay?” You ask when he pulls away. He nods, looking back towards the manor as you exit the maze. 

“I’m happy I can kiss you freely.” Is all he says and you playfully roll your eyes. Your siblings are waiting on the porch while Damian’s siblings and further in the snow, talking using sign language when Cassandra waves you both over. 

“We have a plan,” She says. “We are going to act like I can’t speak. Only sign language with your family,” They do that every time the family is introduced to someone new, kept it up with Bernard for nearly a year before someone broke. You managed about two months but that’s only because you accidentally walked into a very heated conversation between her and Jason about ballet plays. 

“I agree.” Damian nods. 

“It’s only natural.” You agree. 

“Yo,” Jason suddenly says while smacking your arm. “Is your stepmother the mom of your sister?” You cringe when you think about it and the weird family drama around them. 

“No, she’s an affair baby,” You start and scratch your cheek. “She’s my mom's god-sister's daughter. Her and my dad didn’t date, though. It’s complicated.”

“Oh, okay,” Steph sighs. “Because they look so similar.”

“Oh, yeah. They’re cousins.”

“Huh?” They all blink and you glance at Damian. He shakes his head; he’s not going to explain this mess. 

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m going to need a full explanation,” Tim shakes his head, arms crossed over his chest while you inhale. 

“Okay, her mother is Lupe. Lupe and my dad slept together for about five years before they had my sister. My mom found out because Lupe’s mother told her because she thought my dad would ‘step up’ and marry Lupe; spoiler, he didn’t. My dad's wife  is Lupe’s older sister's daughter.” You explain, using your fingers to keep track of people. 

“Okay,” Cass nods. “So, how old is everyone and when did they divorce?”

“My sister, Nadia, is twenty-seven, Pat is twenty-four, Diana is eighteen, and Lupe is ten. My parents divorced before Lupe was born.”

“She has her mother's name?” Jason gasps, holding back a laugh. 

“Dad tried to change it; but you need both signatures. Everyone just calls her Lulu. My mom doesn’t acknowledge her.”

“Are we done here?” Damian sighs. 

“Yes, you can go back to kissing your boyfriend,” Tim rolls his eyes while Jason just shakes his head; still in disbelief that Damian had decided on his own that was in a relationship. He feels like he’s done that in another universe, too. 

“So,” Steph starts just before the two of you can walk away. “When’s your anniversary? Or do you celebrate both of them?” She teases and the others laugh. 

“I’m not answering that,” He grumbles and grabs your hand, pulling you away. 

On the porch, he looks at Nadia and her roommate. They’re holding pinkies, testing the waters while your fingers haven’t left Damian’s in nearly twenty minutes. He feels bad for them; despite his upbringing and hardships, he can confidently say that neither side of his family is homophobic. Not even in the slightest; he’s heard about Ra’s and Bruce’s escapades— although Bruce thankfully reassured him that his grandfather was not on his vast list of people he’d taken to bed. 

He goes to remove his hand, fearing you wouldn’t want your family to know but you squeeze his hand, keeping his hand firmly pressed against your skin. He looks at you and you offer a smile, guiding him to a porch bench while you wait for Bruce to let everyone back inside. 

He blinks, holding back a smile while you pull out your phone with your free hand. You’re playing some tedious game about placing blocks that he finds himself captivated in. It’s as if he can see your thinking in real time; understanding how your brain works. 

“So,” Nadia’s roommate— girlfriend, he corrects himself, Kendall, starts. Her voice feels almost surreal in the soft silence that fills the backyard. He’d nearly forgotten you weren’t alone. Nearly. “Are you two…”

“Dating?” You ask, voice carrying a sort of understanding that Kendall smiles at. She nods and you smile, nudging Damian’s shoulder with your own. “Yeah, we are.” 

“Cool,” She says, eyes darting to Nadia’s who just looks down. 

“Gross,” Pat says, eyes flickering to Damian’s. “You can do better.” Rolling your eyes, you return to your phone. 

“There is no such thing,” Damian answers and you pause, your thumb-stopping as you’re about to place a block. “Your brother is the best thing to happen to me.” Smiling, you lock your phone but pretend you’re still using it. Pat rolls his eyes but he doesn’t say anything further. 

From what you’ve told Damian he knows that Pat is an envious man. Envious that Nadia had won the lottery, envious Diana got your parent's love and affection, envious that you were able to escape the suffocating clutches of your parents when no one else could. 

He feels bad for Pat. He wanted to be an elementary school teacher but your parents had pushed for a ‘more respectable’ degree. You said after that he lost his spark. Became a shell of himself; not that you liked him before all that. He wasn’t a good brother to you, always thought you were too childish. Too head in the clouds to do anything. It was strange, considering the close ages between the two of you and you remember a time the two of you were close. 

The door opens and Damian looks over at his father as he fixes his jacket. His neck is tight but he forces himself to relax and he smiles. It’s the smile he puts on for a crowd, during gala’s, during meetings; whenever he has to put on his Brucie Wayne persona. Because anyone who knew Bruce, really knew him, knew his smile was different. 

“Come on, children.” He says, stepping aside as Tim rushes in. 

“He’s too anemic to be in the cold for so long,” Jason snickers, stepping in after Tim. 

Damian has you walk inside first, watching as his fathers eyes track you with a solemn look. It’s the look he had when you opened up about your family and he looks forward, staring at the back of your head as you enter the room for the third time that day. 

Your step-mother is no longer on your father's lap, she’s sat next to him and settles with just holding his hand. Your mother is opposite to them, her expression— Damian hates to admit it, he’s sorry for even making the connection in his head— is nearly identical to yours when you’re annoyed. Your father— again, really, he’s sorry for the connection— has the traits too. It’s the eyebrows and nose flare with your mother, the eyes and lip curl with your father. 

He wonders if you realize it and that’s why you don’t like getting upset. The reason why you try to avoid conflict if possible. 

Lupe climbs onto your fathers lap, the coldness has only made her more tired and he kisses her head, providing the warmth you’d never gotten from him. 

Damian looks at you as you’re holding a recording device between your fingers; a conflicted expression clear on your face before Bruce slyly takes it and crushes it under his finger. 

“Bruce-!” You gasp but he shakes his head, hand on your shoulder. “Okay,”

The two of you take your seats again, your head naturally finding a home on his shoulder while his arm wraps around your shoulder; tracing shapes into your arm absentmindedly. 

Diana scowls as she enters the room; the two of you sit in the middle because she just knows- oh, she knows you’re doing this on purpose. You’re jealous of her so this is your revenge, you’ve always done things like this. Getting better grades, turning her friends against her (she doesn’t know how for that one yet, despite it being nearly six years ago), countless others and now this. You can’t just be happy for her. 

You ignore her, still playing that damn game that Damian doesn’t know why you play. 

For some strange reason, Damian remembers back to when you learned Wonder Woman’s identity. How your face had dropped and how he snickered when you muttered; ‘that’s an unfortunate name’ that Diana had raised an eyebrow to. You had quickly apologized, of course, later recounting how embarrassing it was when you were alone with Damian. 

You still call her Ms. Prince, though. 

His eyes flicker to Nadia and Kendall; Nadia is pressed in between your mother and Kendall, her leg bouncing while Kendall seems almost unfazed being between Nadia and Jason. 

He’s probably wondering when the food is going to be done; he’s been preparing for this day. Literally; him and Tim and sometimes even Duke will take on extra patrol shifts the day before and not eat the day of Thanksgiving just to make sure they have enough room in their stomach for the feast Alfred prepares. 

While Damian is a little sad that Duke wasn’t able to make it this year, he’s glad he’s able to spend it with his family this year. He says they’re getting better, it’s taken several years but the Joker venom is weaning off of them. He can tell and the doctors confirmed it. They’re good enough that he can have an actual meal with them again. 

You check the time; five-sixteen, and almost sigh. Dinner always starts at eight on the dot and man, you’re hungry. Alfred doesn’t let anyone in the kitchen for a nibble on anything; just a glass of water before he kicks them out. 

Maybe if you texted Damian he could sneak out and bring some food for the two of you. 

“No,” He whispers when you’re hovering over your texts, debating typing it out. Grumbling, you put your phone down and look around. 

There’s not much going on, a couple of conversations have broken out but nothing worthy of note. Bruce is almost guarding the door with the way he’s placed his seat, facing over everyone. You wonder what he talked about; you’re not stupid, you know it’s about you, but you want to know exactly what was said. It’s stupid but you worry that Bruce is tired of you, maybe he agrees with your parents that you’re just that kid. Nothing special. 

Damian feels your pulse when his hand travels to run across your neck, his fingers ghosting from your elbow up and you shudder. His eyebrows furrow when he feels the beating and he discreetly checks on you, your eyes darting about the carpet as your worry vein starts to show on your forehead. 

“Father,” Damian says and Bruce looks over, a quiet hm of acknowledgment coming from the man. “Can we be excused?”

“Of course, Damian,” He nods as a thank you and taps your back, beckoning you up from the couch and you follow him out of the room. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asks once you’re a couple of steps away from the room. You shrug, fingernails digging into the rubber phone case. He hates that; hates when you don’t give him a verbal response because how is he supposed to help? He’s great at reading body language, yes, of course he is, but he wants you to talk. 

“You’re worried about something,” He says as you’re traveling up the large staircase. The old wood creaks under your footsteps, the banister sharing it when your hand presses down against it. 

“Does Bruce like me?” You ask and he blinks over at you. 

“My father adores you. He’d adopt you if he could,” He reassures with ease and you smile. “You’re worried about what he spoke to your family about?” Nodding, he looks up the stairs and thinks for a moment. 

“I’m going to be honest with you; I have a couple of theories myself. The most likely one is that father invited them here on purpose; he wants to know them because he realized at the tree that your family doesn’t treat you well. He probably played the aloof character he often does and sang your well-deserved praises, watching as your parents squirmed.”

“You really think that?”

“I’d never lie to you,” He promises, kissing your knuckles. “Do you want to take a nap?”

“Yes, please,”

—

Damian had stayed awake at his desk while you napped on his bed, curled up on his blankets and his pillows, Titus happily sharing the space with you. He hates to admit it, but he definitely watched you as you slept; simply admiring you. 

The others had checked on the two of you periodically, finding Damian was more often than not simply sitting in the silence of the room. Jason wanted to make a joke, something about day one relationship bliss but he held his tongue, he didn’t know why. Don’t ask him. He totally should’ve made the joke. 

When you woke up, he put his book down and waited for you to say something.

“Is the food done?” He laughs and checks his phone. Two minutes until eight. 

“It should be once we head downstairs,” You smile this sleepy smile, face still pressed into his pillow and he swears his heart swells. With a quick fixing of your clothes and hair, the two of you head downstairs as Bruce is heading up. 

“Good,” He breathes. “I was on my way to get the two of you.”  He waits for the two of you to walk past before heading back down himself. Jason and Dick are helping bring the food into the large dining room. Two trays of food in each of their arms while Alfred carts in more trays. You can smell the food from the bottom of the stairs and you’re so glad Damian forced you to go. 

You can imagine the leftovers now. 

Bruce sits at the head of the table as he’s always had, Damian pulls out a chair, one away from the corner seat where he’d be sitting, and nods with his eyes for you to sit.  

“He’s such a gentleman,” Tim cooes from across from you. 

“Just because you were raised without class, Drake doesn’t mean the rest of us were.” Damian quickly replies. Bruce wants to smile; he’ll never admit he loves his children’s banter, but he puts on his old man's tired face to save Damian the embarrassment of knowing his father finds his actions cute. 

Cassandra takes the seat across from Damian while you find Kori next to you. Dick is next to her, but Mar’i is asleep in a mobile bassinet between the two of them. They promise she’s a heavy sleeper but everyone is ever aware of their volume as she sleeps. 

You wonder why more partners aren’t at the dinner. Jason usually invites at least one of the Outlaws, the Kents are almost always there, and maybe one or two of Dick’s Titans show up. You were hoping at least Jon would be there; it’s been a while since you’ve seen him. 

Stephanie settles next to Tim, followed by Jason. He likes to be as far as he can from Bruce without being too far because… Bruce and Jason's things. 

You don’t care where your family sits, honestly you try to block them out. Between your parents, siblings, aunt, and cousins (plus Kendall and your father's wife), you can’t bring yourself to care. 

The last of the food is set and Alfred takes the seat at the other end of the table. Head of household go on the ends, is what Damian had told you when you first questioned it. 

“Wanna say what we’re grateful for?” Dick grins the same way he does every single Thanksgiving that the others mouth the words as he’s saying it. 

“Sure,” Bruce nods, his eyes scanning over the table. “I suppose I’ll start, then.” 

“I’m thankful for my children finding happiness,” He smiles. “Wherever that may be.” He adds, looking at Jason. 

“Oh, I need a drink,” Jason mutters and grabs his glass, pouring whiskey out from his flask.

It’s Cassandra’s turn and she looks around before signing

‘I’m thankful for ballet.’ Everyone replies in sign, not because they actually want to reply, but because it’s funny. You catch your family's embarrassed glances at each other when they realize they have no idea what she said and no one is willing to translate for them. 

Tim doesn’t realize it’s his turn and returns to staring at his lap, trying to hide the fact that he’s working. Stephanie nudges him and he looks up, not even embarrassed that he’s been caught. 

“I’m thankful for the internet in the dining room.” 

“I’m thankful for…” Stephanie trails. “Cassandra.” 

“I’m thankful for alcohol,” Jason says as he takes another large gulp. He wanted to say guns, he always says guns, but you guess Bruce had told him not to this year. 

Kendall is next, her eyes flicker to you for a brief moment as she thinks. 

“I’m thankful that I have someone to celebrate with,” Is what she settles on before it’s Nadia’s turn. 

“I’m thankful for Kendall,” She smiles, her voice shaking as she says it. Kendall smiles down at the table, hiding her pink face. It continues on, your cousins are thankful for Kai Cenat, your brother says some corporate answer you forgot immediately after, Lupe says her iPad, your father says his wife, his wife says him, your mother said her husband, her husband said her, your aunt said her kids, and then it’s Diana’s turn. 

“I’m thankful that Mr. Wayne opened his doors to us,” She says in this sickly sweet voice that makes you inhale and hold your tongue. Thankfully that Kori’s hair mostly blocks you from the others, you shake Damian’s shoulder and he stifles a laugh. 

The married couple says sappy married couple answers and suddenly it’s your turn. 

“I’m thankful that I have all of my organs,”

“You’re still on that?” Tim glares, looking up from his laptop and you laugh, the others joining in. “It happened one—“

“Kids,” Bruce says and Tim looks back down at his laptop. He looks at you and you sigh. 

“I’m thankful for the blue— I’m thankful for the food Alfred cooked so tirelessly,” You say and the family nods to that, even Tim. 

“I’m thankful for (Y/n),” Damian says and Jason cheers when Dick slides him a twenty. “You’re childish.”

“And you’re predictable,” He sings, holding up the crisp twenty-dollar bill. Damian goes to say something but Alfred clears his throat and anything he was going to say dies before it reaches his tongue. 

“I’m thankful for another year with all of you,” Alfred smiles fondly at everyone, even you. 

“Dig in.” Getting food is nearly a free-for-all hell. It’s why Alfred always makes enough that you don’t need to reach too far to get your favorite foods. You pile food onto your plate, fighting Tim with the spoon and ever aware of your family’s bewildered expressions. 

It’s strange for them to see; you’re so happy here. Clearly, in your time in Gotham, you’ve been integrated into the family, settling nicely in their bunch. You’re laughing with Jason about something they don’t get, sharing a forkful of food with Damian because he wanted you to try the tofu ham he loves so dearly. You never liked tofu before, your mother tried once, but you love their tofu ham. 

You have inside jokes with them, even with Bruce. Bruce asks about your classes and they realize they can’t name a single class you take; they don’t even know your major. 

But somehow, someway, it’s your fault. You don’t call enough, you don’t text enough, you don’t come home. It’s not because of them; they’ve done nothing wrong. 

And you know that’s what they think. 

With the initial food free-for-all done, you settle into nice conversations that often have breaks of silence because you’re talking to Cassandra. It’s also the first time Bruce participates in the ongoing gag. 

“No, you nearly killed Jerry on his first Thanksgiving,” Damian insists to Jason. “You’re the reason we didn’t have a Turkey for four years.”

“I’m not the one who tried to kill me.”

“Pretty sure you have,” Tim comments, and Jason snorts before covering his face. 

“We agreed to no more suicide jokes,” Bruce lazily reminded. 

“Was it ever a joke…?” You test the waters and he sighs, holding his face while the others laugh. 

“That’s so rude, (Y/n)!” Diana shouts and everyone goes silent. Dead silent. “Don’t joke about suicide!” The others glance at her, unsure of what to do. You blink, pushing food into your mouth and slowly chew. 

“It’s harmless banter between friends and siblings,” Damian says. “You wouldn’t get it.” 

“Oh…” She settles in her seat. “I guess,”

“Anyway,” Stephanie looks away from her, giving you a glance that says ‘seriously, you’re related?’ and you just shrug. “Did Jason try to kill Jerry?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Okay, let’s ask Alfred.” Alfred looks up from his plate, wiping a napkin along his mouth with wide eyes when he sees the children have turned to him for his verdict. 

“Oh, well. That was so long ago, I suppose I’ve forgotten what’s happened.”

“Nonsense Pennyworth; your memory is sharp. No need to spare Todd’s feelings.”

“I know the demon spawn can be a bear but you can tell the truth, Alfred.” 

Bruce sighs because he knows this topic will never end.

“It wasn’t him.” Bruce blurts before covering his mouth with a napkin. Alfred gives him a thankful look but Damian slowly turns to look at Bruce.

“What?” Damian leans over, eyes wide as he stares at his father. “Who was it, father?”

“It was…” He sighs. “Me.”

Shouting erupts at the table, you and Cassandra sit, shell-shocked as years of a feud had been for nothing— something Bruce could’ve stopped long ago. 

‘Wasn’t it you?’ You ask and she nods, serving herself more mashed potatoes. You snicker, reaching over to finish Damian’s glass of wine. He takes the last sip of his father's glass, angrily downing it because the shouting has made his throat dry. 

“I cannot believe you let Todd take the blame,” Damian breathes as he settles down. “It’s been nearly ten years, father!” 

“Oh heavens,” Alfred shakes his head. “I shall bring out more wine.”

“Bourbon, please, Alfred.” Bruce and Jason grumble. 

“Having fun?” Tim grins over at your family. The bunch are shocked; well your cousins are eating this up and Lupe is still playing on her iPad. You didn’t expect anything less from them if you’re being truthful. 

“You have a… lively family,” Your father’s wife smiles. 

“Hopefully you’ll marry into it, right?” Tim continues to egg them on. “Then we’ll be one big happy family.” He winks at your mother who gawks.

“Yup,” You nod, much to Damian’s shock. “One big, gay, happy wedding, right, Dames.” He quickly collects himself and nods. 

“Honeymoon to whatever island you want; after our destination wedding. I’m thinking Istanbul or Cape Town, South Africa.”

“Mhmm, and then we’ll get a big mansion somewhere.”

“A farm, too.” 

“That sounds nice,” Kori agrees. 

“You’ll be my maid of honor, of course.”

“And Dick will be my best man.” 

“He’ll be mine.” You disagree, turning to Damian. 

“You cannot have both!”

“Fine, I’m taking Casandra.”

“No! She’ll be my maid of honor. Why don’t you pick Drake or something?”

“I’m busy that day,” Tim responds and Damian squints. “I might be able to squeeze you in.” Tim concedes. 

“I’m taking Jon, then.” 

“Oh my god,” Bruce puts his head in his hands as Alfred pours him a glass of bourbon. He downs it and Alfred quickly pours another glass. “There won’t be a marriage until you’ve finished college.”

“I didn’t know you moved that fast,” Jason teases. 

“It’s not fast if I’m sure he’s the love of my life.”

You pause, staring down at your glass as the room falls silent. 

Honestly, this is moving… fast. You’ve never been in love, at least you don’t think you have. You’ve never really known love; your father cheated for five years, your mother married your father's (now former) boss out of spite, your father is currently married to someone the same age as his eldest daughter, and your sister was in a hidden relationship. 

Your girlfriends have been nice. You liked them enough, they weren’t bad in any way. You enjoyed being with them but you wouldn’t say you’ve ever loved any of them. 

With Damian, you aren’t sure if what you’re feeling is love. Maybe puppy love but… love. You aren’t sure about that; you’d been joking about the marriage stuff. It was a joke to get your family uncomfortable. You weren’t even sure you wanted to get married! Let alone to Damian. 

The relationship was literal hours long at this point— sure longer in Damian’s eyes but he’s clearly had romantic feelings for you for longer than you’ve had them for him. Maybe you hadn’t realized before, sure, yes, that’s entirely possible. But you don’t love him just yet. 

“I’m gonna… use the bathroom…” Diana excuses herself, her kitten heels clicking against the freshly polished floor. 

Your ears are ringing as Damian continues his conversations like normal. You glance around, finding Tim’s eyes in the chaos that’s your current state. He raises his eyebrows and you must’ve made a face because he did a short nod. Damian says something; something about you. He wants your opinion about something but you don’t know what he said. There was just one fact running through your mind. 

He was in love with you. Like genuinely. 

You must’ve been a horrible gay boyfriend because you smile and ask him to repeat himself. 

“Oh, (Y/n),” Tim cuts you off, closing his laptop. “I wanted your opinion on something about… stuff; join me.” 

“Can’t it wait?” Bruce asks. He assumes it’s about his case because Bruce was considering asking you some questions about it anyway. It had to deal with your major and why not ask the kid who’s currently studying what he thinks? 

“Don’t wanna forget,” Tim shakes his head. 

“It’s okay,” You smile. “I’ll be back in the second, yeah?” Damian nods, squeezing your hand as you leave the room with Tim. 

“He’s a lot.” Is the first thing Tim says when you’re walking into a nearby room. 

“I wouldn’t say that,” You mumble, falling onto a couch with a loud sigh. 

“Really? Because he just said you’re the love of his life and you looked sick.”

“I’m just—“ Any reasoning dies before you find it and you look at him. “It was shocking.” You settle on saying. 

“Yeah, you’ve been dating for maybe six hours and you were asleep for half of them. Congrats, though. You’ve clearly won him over,” Tim settles across from you, his legs hanging off of the chair while he hangs his head, staring at the dead fireplace. 

“I don’t know what love is.” You blurt and he looks up, half interested. 

“Considering your family is a weird fucking situation, I figured.” 

“Shut up, fucking detective.” 

“Ouch,” He teases with a grin. “Put ‘World’s Greatest’ in front of it next time.” 

“Can you explain love? Maybe then I'll put the title.”

“You’re great at barging,” Tim sits up, now resting his chin on his fists. You stare at him, waiting and he sits there. Thinking. 

“If Jon was to walk through the doors and declare his love for Damian, how would you feel?”

“Upset. Confused.” You shrug. 

“How often do you look for him?”

“Not often. We’re never apart.”

“When you are.” He corrects, rolling his eyes. 

“Often, I guess. I worry;” You shrug. 

“About what?”

“During…” Glancing at the door. “Our side jobs, I worry that he’s been taken. I guess. Maybe worse. During classes I just miss him, I’m used to being around him.”

“Used to or want to?”

“What do you mean?” Your face pinches and Tim tilts his head. 

“Are you used to being around Damian or do you want to be around Damian?”

“I want to,” You answer without hesitation. “I miss him when I sleep and he’s not there. I think of him whenever I’m shopping because I often see something he would like. I’ve…” You trail off, rubbing your hands on your legs. “Never told him I’m mildly allergic to dogs because he loves Titus.”

“You’re allergic to dogs?” 

“Mhmm, my throat gets itchy for a bit when I touch them or something they’ve come into contact with. I try not to touch them too often. I think I’ve built an immunity, though.”

“I’d say you’re in love. I would never do that,” He laughs. “Maybe baby love and Damian’s full deep-end love, but love.” 

“Really?” You smile and he nods, looking you up and down as if he’s judging you. He totally is. 

“Yeah, only fools in love would do something that stupid.” 

—

When Diana returns to the dining room, you pay her no mind. You're holding your goddaughter as she stares up at you, holding your finger. Her eyes really are green like her mother's. She smiles, cooing when Damian strokes the top of her head. 

She’s not old enough to have normal food, but it doesn’t mean she likes it. She tries to grab the fork whenever she can and even tries to remove the tablecloth to get to the delicious food. Against your wishes, Kori takes her upstairs. Dick says she needs to eat and you reluctantly understand, missing her already. 

“It’s time for dessert,” Alfred announces as he stands some time after Kori comes back, Mar’i once again fast asleep. Everyone had finished their plates and slumped in their seats, sure they were going to fall into a food coma. 

“I’ll help clear the table,” You offer, standing up and grabbing some of the trays. Jason does the same and you stare at each other; silently agreeing you’d split the leftovers evenly if you don’t argue and alert the others. 

Alfred takes the trays the two of you don’t and once they’re set on the table, he watches as the two of you rush to grab the tupperware he takes out for Thanksgiving and pile food inside. 

“Do leave some for the rest of us,” He comments as he goes back into the dining room to fetch the dirty plates and utensils and you apologize but continue filling the trays. You end up with eight heavy bowls; four for you and four for Damian. It’s not a lot, all things considered. No one else really gets the vegan things so it's always going with Damian. But even with Jason’s filling, there’s more than enough for everyone else. 

You put your tubs into your toolbox, preserving them exactly how they are while Jason has to put his in the fridge after slapping several sticky notes and writing on the tubs that the food is his and he will shoot whoever takes them. 

You’re nearly tempted. 

Alfred returns with the dishes, scraping the bones and scraps into the trash before he places them in the sink to soak. 

“Go inside, you will not have first dibs on dessert.” He says, eyeing the two of you while you stand in the kitchen's doorway. 

“Aw man,” You frown, dragging your feet as you walk away. 

“I assume you stole the leftovers?” Damian grins when you sit back down.

“Absolutely,” You grin back, knocking his leg with yours. “All the favorites, enough for a week.” He nods in approval, once again looking over the table. 

Alfred wheels in the desert and you swear it’s like feeding time at the zoo because the right side of the table eye the trays like they’re raw meat and they’re wild animals who hadn’t eaten in ages. Even Bruce. 

He sets the left side first; which will have the same things as the right and your mouth waters when you see the knafeh. You know your family won’t love it the same way you do and god, you’re going to take the whole pan home. There’s an elaborate strawberry cheesecake, three pies (apple, pecan, and pumpkin), banana pudding, and crème brûlée donuts. 

“I’m gonna cry,” Stephanie whispers, her leg bouncing with anticipation. “It’s so beautiful.”

When Bruce gives the nod to dig in— after Alfred pre-cut slices and gave everyone warning stares—, the dessert free-for-all is more contained. Everyone gets two slices of each pie, two of the cheesecake, enough of the pudding, and three donuts. It’s typically that way but everyone starts trading for their favorite things. You trade your pecan and pumpkin pie slices for: an apple slice, a donut, and two cheesecake slices. Or you don’t. Maybe you made it up; it’s up to your imagination, really. 

Your focus is on the knafeh; everyone always gives you one of their slices out of tradition. No need to trade for those bad boys. 

Alfred pours eggnog for everyone as well— he even makes special ones for those with diet restrictions. 

“This is so good,” Your cousin says, face stuffed with pumpkin pie. “You’re like Gordon Ramsay, dude.”

“Thank you, young man.” Alfred gives him a warm smile that makes your cousin beam. 

“I’m a man,” He whispers to his mother, eyes twinkling. She laughs and ruffles his hair. 

“So, you two are in a real relationship?” Your father's wife asks, pointing her fork between you and Damian. “Like… actually?”

“Yup,” You nod, licking your spoon clean of the apple pie filling. 

“Unfortunately,” Jason teases. 

“Just so you know; I’m like totally cool with gay people.” She says, holding her hand in your general direction as if you were going to grab it. “I’m an ally!”

“Nice,” You nod again. She smiles and nods, sipping her spiked eggnog. She spiked it, and everyone saw. She’ll deny it later. 

“They’re clearly lying!” Diana shouts. You were waiting for that; she’d been incredibly silent for most of the dinner. It was only a matter of time. “(Y/n) is jealous that me and Damian clearly have a spark! He’s… he’s messing with Damian’s mind! You saw the way he looked at me at the tree and besides— (Y/n) has had girlfriends before!”

“I’m bisexual.”

“As if! You don't even like Ryan Reynolds and I remember when you were eight and you said you’d date Red Hood if he was a girl!”

“I never said that!” You quickly shout, face heating up as the others around you snicker. 

“Yes, you did! You made Nadia make you that Red Hood costume for Halloween and made posters of him! You painted our Nerf guns black! And you said you wanted to marry ‘Girl Red Hood’!” 

“No, I didn’t! Oh my god, I didn’t!” You swear, shaking your head. 

“You did,” Nadia nods and you cover your face, unable to look at the Wayne’s. “It was clear, in hindsight.”

“So,” Jason slowly nods. “Red Hood was your gay awakening?”

“No! I was not into Red Hood!”

“And then he was fixated on Robin for a while. The one with the swords,” Nadia continues and you almost sob, collapsing in your seat. “He wanted swords and he swore his Robin hoodie for almost two months straight; convinced dad to buy Robin bedsheets.”

“They’re lying,” Your voice is muffled under your hands. Damian rubs your shoulder but you can just tell he’s enjoying this. 

“It was so much worse than the Red Hood phase,” Pat slowly agrees. “Is that why you moved here?”

“No, because that never happened.”

“It did,” Your mother slowly agrees. “But you stopped because of…” She trails, looking at your father. The conversation dies there and you’re able to breathe. 

“Damian’s not even gay!” 

“Diana,” You groan. 

“Considering there’s a video going around of them kissing; I’d say he’s pretty gay,” Tim says and you look at him.

“You recorded us kissing?”

“Not me; that’s too weird for me.” He shakes his head, flipping his laptop to show you. “Diana was live and someone screen recorded. You’re trending with the hashtag: stuffing.”

“That’s just crazy,” You snicker but try to be serious. 

“Hickeys so soon?” Stephanie wiggles her eyebrows at Damian as she watches the video. 

“This is unbecoming,” Damian blinks at the video but everyone can see he’s red in the face. “I demand you stop playing the video.”

“I actually sent it to everyone already.”

“Drake!”

“Tim!”

“What?” He grins, looking between the two of you. “All of us have one— it’s a rite of passage for Bruce’s sort of kids to get caught making out and having it posted.”

—

Dinner wraps up, and you’re in the kitchen with Alfred, putting your leftovers into more Tupperware to avoid… all of them really. He’s washing the dishes, insistent that he does it alone and you let him. He won’t budge on his Thanksgiving dish duties for some odd reason. 

You’re finishing up when your phone buzzes and you check it. 

Diana : 

Mom and dad are yelling at each other because of you. I hope you’re happy. 

Just stop pretending you weren’t even bisexual yesterday. 

It’s actually really sad. 

They’re talking about changing custody because of you, now I won’t be able to see mom or dad EVER again. 

Nadia:

I can see Diana texting you

it’s not your fault

you know how they are

and i’m proud that you came out, sorry i didn’t say it earlier 

Your family had left in a haste, mostly rushed by your mother and father who climbed into a large uber with the kids and spouse. Your aunt and cousins were driven back by Dick. 

You:

thanks, you too, btw

Nadia:

LOLLL maybe one day

you two should come visit us one day, see the farm

damian likes animals, right?

You:

yeah

loves them

She sends you some pictures of animals she’s gotten over the course of a couple years and you smile. 

You:

oh he’ll definitely want to see them

maybe during spring break?

Nadia: 

sounds perfect. stay safe, ill worry about mom and dad 

You:

okay love you

Nadia:

love you too

—

Later that night, everyone is doing a late-night patrol when you hear Jason start speaking. 

“Girl Red Hood?”

“They were lying!”

“For Hood’s sake, he better pray that is true.”

[babywriter]

Janine liked to go to school diapered. It turned her on. It also took quite a bit of courage to do so as she was terrified anybody would find out her little secret. There had been a few close calls, but by now Janine had grown comfortable with her choice of underwear. She had also grown complacent and less worried about hiding it. So what if someone she didn’t know would see the waistband of a medical diaper? This was college and she was free. It did become more problematic when someone she did know ended up seeing it.

While Janine was picking her books up, she carelessly showed the tip of her padded underwear to Brenda. Brenda was not a friend. In High School, she had been a mean girl who had gleefully spread rumors about Janine. Of course, Brenda bursted out laughing when she saw the diaper.

“Oh my god. This is-WOW. You are such a baby, Janine.” A little too loud perhaps as people wondered what was going on. Janine looked troubled when she stood up.

“What?” she asked.

“Oh I think we need to talk.” said Brenda. She grabbed Janine’s hand and led her out of the class.

“What are you doing? Let me go.” Janine remained steadfastly calm as she didn’t want to provoke the other girl.

“I know what I saw.” said Brenda. “You didn’t need diapers before.”

“So what if I didn’t?”

“I’m just saying. It would be a shame if others found out…”

“Please don’t.” asked Janine. In hindsight, this was a terrible reaction as Brenda now held all the cards.

“Oh I shouldn’t, should I? Why not, huh? There’s nothing to be ashamed of by being a little miss pottypants. You know, what I’d love to do? Change your little diaper butt!”

“You won’t.”

“Yes, I will. I should probably check if you’re dry right now…”

“No, stop! Get away from me!”

“My, my. Baby has wet herself. We are definitely going to your place.”

Obviously, this wasn’t really optional, and Janine only begrudginly accepted so that Brenda would go away afterwards. Janine had an apartment to herself, which meant that she could openly indulge. A baby bottle in the kitchen, a few toys scattered here and there, a ridiculous amount of stuffies. Subtle signs that gave it away. Brenda looked at her victim with glee.

“Oh this is much better than my dorm. You must love it here. No mommy to tell you to clean up after yourself.”

The worst part was when Brenda went through Janine’s closet. Onesies, footie pyjamas, loads of diaper packs with adorable prints, little dresses and skirts.

“This is all so cute! I didn’t know you were such a cute little baby! We should tell everyone, don’t you think?”

“Brenda, please. You’ve done enough. Can’t you act like an adult and start minding your own business?”

“I need to start acting like an adult? I’m not the one pissing myself, baby. In fact, I think I should inform everyone.”

“NO!” Janine stomped her foot and laid down the law. This was not going to happen.

“No? YOU don’t get to say no, baby girl.” Brenda wrestled Janine’s pants away from her and put the girl on her lap, spanking her well-padded bottom until she started to cry. Pain was only a small part, there was also the humiliation and a surprising amount of excitement. This strange and contradictory mixture of emotions is what made her cry.

“If you act like a good little girl.” said Brenda. “You will be a very happy baby, but if you make mommy mad, you will NEVER live it down. Is that understood?”

Janine nodded while sobbing.

Brenda immediately moved in to become Janine’s around-the-clock caregiver. And just as quickly, Janine was forced into the 24/7 lifestyle she had fantasized about. Everything was done for her and an extreme set of rules was also put in place. Like wearing diapers and baby clothes at all times or only being able to “make cummies” if mommy deemed her diaper sufficiently dirty. And she had to beg for them while showing off how used her diaper was. The cummies were mommy’s business too. Only mommy could use the vibrator on Janine’s diaper. While Janine was forced into this lifestyle, she still went about her daily activities. Brenda had wanted them to go on. Thus, Janine went to school diapered and wearing a short girlish dress that barely covered the padding. In the front and in the back, there was a noticeable bulge, revealing that Janine perhaps wasn’t wearing normal underwear.

In the hallways, Janine was forced to hold Brenda’s hand. Not only that, she was constantly flushed from the looks she was getting. She did not relax until she was seated in the massive auditorium, where she could have some privacy by sitting in the back. Yet, when she felt she needed to go, she did not hesitate for one second as Mommy had trained her well. It is unfortunate that after the class, a friend of Janine came to see her. The diaper, well-used, now sagged just under the dress.

“Hi! How...are you?” said the friend.

“I-” Janine began.

“Baby, put your thumb in your mouth. She’s doing super well!” answered Brenda in her place.

The friend nodded and went away immediately after. Whatever this was, she wanted no part of it.

Naturally, Janine began to cry, thumb in her mouth. 

“Do you need your diaper changed?” asked Brenda, loud enough for any passerby to hear. The woman put her hand on Janine’s butt and squished it. “Yes, you do!”

Whispers of “what’s wrong with her” could be heard. For some reason, this broke Janine. It was all in the open so why resist?

“Mommy, I wanna go home.” she said. Teary, her whole thumb in her mouth, raising her dress with the other hand so everyone could see her diaper.

Janine’s reaction was marvelous as far as Brenda was concerned. Now, the girl was all hers.

“We can’t leave yet, baby. You haven’t done your cummies.”

“Please mommy, no…” Janine was absolutely desperate to avoid at least that.

“No, perhaps it’d be better in front of your parents…”

Under this thinly veiled threat, Janine began to rub the front of her diaper with great vigor. The first and only time she had been allowed to touch herself, even if through her underwear. The thick padding made it especially challenging. So did the crowd of onlookers. Perverts in their own rights for watching, and filming, Janine. Finally, she moaned loudly.

“I made cummies mommy!” she nearly screamed in a high pitch lisp.

“Good job, baby! I won’t bring you here again, I promise” Brenda said with a grin.

Indeed, Janine never went to college again. Instead, she was kept at home. Forced to use her diapers, she grew dependent on them. Forced to ask permission to make cummies, always while wearing a used diaper and often in public. Truly, a baby that was shown off at every opportunity. And all that humiliation just kept making Janine hornier.

[live-laugh-lenney]

plz can you write something where the boys tease Arthur TV because he’s so obsessed with you

(i have so many requests but I don’t wanna be annoying lol)

I love your writing!!

i made it holiday related again because i'm really feeling in that mood right now... hahaha.

arthur was enamoured.

he'd always thought yn was pretty and very beautiful and seeing her in a holiday scenario, where she was relaxed and enjoying herself, his infatuation had doubled... tripled.... and then quadrupled as the days of their holiday went on.

the way her striped bikini clung to her in the right spots, the way her hair was pulled back into the messiest bun upon her head to keep it from getting wet (to save having to wash it again because she gave it a wash the previous night, she claims), the way her sunglasses sat on her nose and protected her eyes from the bright light, the way her skin was so beautifully kissed by the rays of the sunshine and how she had practically tanned from the moment she stepped foot out in the open.

he tried to take his eyes from her as she floated in the pool whilst she sunbathed but, sometimes, she was all he wanted to look at.

"i'm not being funny but," george stands to his feet, the sun-lounger beneath him scraping against the floor of the patio area lining the pool of their villa, catching arthur's attention and he walked over in his direction and leant over the back of the lounger that the man was stretched out upon, "if your mouth opens any further, you'll choke on flies."

"shut up," arthur grumbles under his breath, feeling his cheeks turn a rosy red colour which he wasn't sure would be visible due to how red his face had gotten under the harsh croatian sunlight that soaked his skin all afternoon, embarrassment running through his body at how he had been caught staring at one of his best friend, "i thought you were asleep, anyway."

"what? so you could stare at her like a weirdo? no, i was entertained watching you try and hold back a boner," george snickers softly and arthur shuffled uncomfortably on the sun-lounger, "why don't you just say something to her? or at least, shag her and get it out of your system. this is almost unbearable to watch."

"because that's gross behaviour and i'm not that kind of man," arthur mumbles lowly, reaching for his phone that he had placed in the shade underneath his sun-lounger as a way to distract himself, "i'm not after a shag. she's my friend, she's our friend, and i don't want to ruin the dynamic between all of us. that's not fair."

"she'll soon get creeped out with your staring and that really will ruin the group dynamic," george teases and arthur shrugs off his hands from where they were placed on his shoulders, "she'll clock on soon, you might as well tell her."

"no," arthur hisses back, shaking his head before glancing down at his phone and unlocking it so he could divert his attention from the bikini-clad girl floating in a ring on the surface of the pool with her headphones on her head as she listened to music whilst soaking up the sun above, "how you speak about her when she can't hear you is gross sometimes."

"she knows i'm only joking," george holds his hands up in defence and walks towards the open patio doors of their villa as he was bored of lazing for the afternoon, leaving his towel to try on his lounger as he took his belongings from the table and held them tightly in his hands, "i'm going for a shower and then for a nap before anyone else grabs the bathroom."

-

"where's yn?"

"you mean to tell us you've had her surgically removed from your hip?" chris asks, in feigned shock, from where he was stretched out across the sofa in the room, "you're joking?"

"what?"

arthur rolls his eyes and ignores the laugh that came from arthur hill as he done up the buttons of the shirt hanging down his torso, a bold print decorating the cotton material that matched the colour of his shorts buttoned to his waist.

"if you must know, she's just finishing up getting ready in her room and she'll be out soon," arthur hill says, picking up the open can of lager that was set on the table beside her phone, taking a swig from the top before he placed it back down, "can you cope for a couple of minutes without her?"

"you guys suck," arthur grumbles and shakes his head, reaching into the fridge to grab himself a can of beer, cracking it open and taking a hefty swig of the golden liquid hidden behind the metal, "you make it sound like i'm some obsessed freak."

"you are," chris insists, standing to his feet and picking up his own can of his chosen beverage for the week from the coffee table that was a mere stretch from the sofa and arthur could only muster up throwing the middle finger in his friend's direction, "hey, that's not nice. i'm only telling the truth, arthur."

"if you keep taking the piss out of me in front of yn then she's going to start hating me for being a weirdo around her," arthur frowns and chris just snickers at him, "seriously. i'm not a weirdo. she's just-"

the sound of a door opening made him stop mid-sentence and he gave a pleading look to his two friends that wordlessly begged for them not to tease him in front of her. as footsteps were heard coming down the stairs, the three men busied themselves in putting on their shoes and grabbing their jackets so that they were ready to leave once everyone had come together in the lower level of the villa.

it felt like a schoolboy crush. and, of course, he was planning on telling her just how he felt about her... he just wasn't sure when or how he wanted to tell her. he wanted it to be perfect, romantic, not in the earshot of his friends who would, no doubt, tease him for being such a simp in the situation.

"you look beautiful," arthur compliments her as she brushes passed him to grab the denim jacket she had draped over the back of one of the dining table chairs the previous night, "ready for another night on the town?"

"i don't think i can keep up with you guys again," she laughs softly, slipping her arms into the denim sleeves and adjusting it so it was comfortable on her shoulders, "i was coming back early tonight, i've got a bit of a headache. think it's just from being in the sun all day."

"do you want to stay here tonight? the boys can go out without us?"

"us?"

her eyes soften as she looks at him, his eyes darting from her face to anywhere in the room, unwilling to make eye contact because he felt silly for assuming she'd want him to stay behind with her. and he could feel the eyes of arthur hill and chris staring into the back of his head, which he wished would stop, and he was certain they would snicker about the situation behind his back.

"i mean, someone should watch out for you, just in case."

"i think i'll be fine, arthur," she reaches for his arm and squeezes it softly and reassuringly, "i'm starving so it could be to do with that. i'll just play it by ear."

"what are we playing by ear?"

george makes himself known as he walks around the corner, dressed in a pair of chino shorts and a short-sleeved, button-down shirt that matched the same colour. sunglasses on his face, phone and wallet in his hand, socks on his feet that were ready to slip into his trainers.

"arthur's hoping to bring yn home tonight," chris jokes teasingly and arthur swings around on his heels, eyebrows furrowed on his browline and he really wanted the ground to swallow him whole, "i'm kidding. yn's not feeling a hundred percent so she might come back early. arthur offered to stay with her if she needed to come back here."

"oh, that's kind of him," george smiles, sending a wink to arthur that he was surprised yn had completely missed, "what a sweetheart he is."

"i'd do it for any of you," arthur insists - he wouldn't, unless they had asked him to, "can we go? i'm hungry."

"have we decided where we're going?"

-

"is everything okay?"

arthur's brought out of his daze by the sound of her voice, soft and sweet and angelic, the only voice he wanted to hear. he turns around from where he was sat on the stones on the beach, knees brought up to his chest as he leant back on his palms, looking up at her as she approached him.

"why are you down here by yourself?"

"just wanted a bit of quiet time to myself," he explains and she sits herself down beside her, making sure her dress stayed covering her modesty as she stretched her legs out, crossing her ankles and leaning back on her palms in a similar fashion to him, "you didn't have to come and check on me. we should be checking on you."

"my headache's gone now," she smiles, looking across the water and watching as the waves crashed against the shore, "i'm worried about you now."

"i'm okay," he nods, "just want to enjoy the serenity of the scenery. it's beautiful out here. you kind of take it for granted and miss it when you're back home."

silence swallows the two of them, except the atmosphere was full of all kinds of sounds; the chatter of passersby as they went on a look for their chosen restaurant for dinner, the waves crashing against the stones, the crunching of stones as people walked back up from the water... and, in the distance, they could hear the raucous laughter of chris and george and arthur hill as they joked amongst themselves.

"is it the others?"

"the others?"

"they've been teasing you a lot today," yn informs him and he sighs heavily, letting out a deep exhale before rolling his head back and looking to the sky, "i've heard it, arthur. i think it's sweet."

"the teasing?"

he feels confused and weird; what was sweet? surely, if she heard the teasing then she could piece things together...

"no, you muppet," she giggles softly and turns her head to look at him, "i'm not weirded out that you've been staring at me, you know? i, uh, i've kinda been doing the same, i guess."

he looks at her, for the first time since she sat down beside him, and he gulps back the lump in his throat.

"not at myself," she blurts out, "but, at-"

"at me?"

she nods shyly and he can't help but feel the flips in his stomach as he felts knots tighten and loosen low in his gut.

"you haven't heard them teasing me, have you? the last three days of being here, they've been non-stop laughing at me. they think it's funny," she laughs softly and shakes her head, "they practically forced me to come over here and tell you so-"

he stares at her and she can see his brown eyes from behind the lenses covering them up, and she sighs.

"i wanted to come over though," she adds almost instantly, "to see if you were okay and to stop their incessant jokes and pisstakes. they're only trying to help, i guess?"

"they're annoying," arthur grumbles lowly and she can only hum out in agreement, "but, i guess, they know us both too well. almost far too well, i think."

"you coming back up for dessert? i ordered you the same as me," she smiles, moving to stand to her feet, standing before him and holding out her hands for him to take, wiggling her fingers in an enticing way, "come on, you. we might as well face the music."

"what do we tell them?"

"nothing if we don't want to say," she smiles and he takes her hands, and she uses all her strength to pull him to his feet, their fingers entwining together, "or, i don't know, we could just... take things slow this week? figure stuff out?"

he nods softly.

"i like that idea," he grins, dropping one hand from her hold but making sure to keep a tight grip of her other, swinging between them as they made their way back up the beach and back to where their table was located at the front of their restaurant, "reckon they'll leave us alone now?"

"god only knows," yn laughs, "we can only hope." xx

[katanablue]

Hear me out

Raph railing the living daylights out of you for your birthday, and eating your ass like its cake

Of course my friend doesnt follow this acc, of course im not specifically requesting this for them in particular 👀

(Cough cough hi sugar boo 😘)

MY DEEPEST APOLOGIES THAT THIS IS LATE

there’s no request for a spef Raph so naturally I must go with bay! Bc that guy??? Licks the plate CLEAN—

Warnings: fem reader, ass eating, fingering in the ass and brief mention of anal, he fucks your PUSS!!

“Happy birthday, baby. Got your present in my room.”

“Oh, Raph! You didn’t have to get anything for me.”

You miss the smirk on his lips since you turn to head down the hall, the glint in his eye and the way his tongue darts out his mouth.

“S’okay, sweetheart. I wanted to. Gotta spoil you, yeah?”

You turn to him as you sweep the curtain to his room aside, raising an eyebrow at him with a questioning smirk.

“Spoil me how?”

“Mmm fuck— oh fuck!”

He pushes your head further into the mattress, his hand nearly engulfing your skull as his tongue delves deeper into your hole. He shakes his head back and forth, curling the muscle and absolutely slobbering all over your cheeks, creating a big wet spot on the sheets beneath you.

Raph’s other hand grips your ass tight, definitely going to leave prints that’ll show in the later hours but right now he doesn’t care, right now he’s too focused on trying to reduce you to even an bigger quivering and whimpering mess.

He lets go of your head and comes to grab your other cheek, spreading both of them far apart and pulling back. He chuckles at the sight of your puckered hole clenching around nothing, already missing the shape of his tongue.

“So good f’me, you know that?” He grunts as he teasingly presses his thumb into your asshole, not enough to penetrate but just enough to have you squirming under him. “You and this tight l’il hole you got,”

He drops a glob of spit in between your parted cheeks, the warm sensation making you gasp and shudder as it slips further down. He quickly scoops it up with one finger and uses it as lube, pushing his thick digit in all the way to the first knuckle while he lines himself up with your sweet cunt.

“An’ you’re gonna take this cock like a good girl, yeah? S’your birthday present from me.” Ever so slowly he pushes in, inch by inch until he’s buried to the hilt, rubbing his palm up and down your back in a soothing gesture.

You claw at the bedsheets, arching yourself as he sunk into your soaking pussy, mewling and whimpering with every light brush of his fingertips against your hot skin.

He gives you a moment to adjust, knowing it wasn’t easy for you to take his massive length. He goes to massage your ass, running the blunts of his nails up and down your spine. He gently fingers your asshole, tempted to put another but once he sees you go barely lax, he clutches your hips and adjusts himself.

He plants one foot on the bed and immediately your eyes widen, looking over your shoulder to find him already giving you that shit eating smirk.

“Happy birthday, baby.”

His hold on you grows more firm before he starts fucking into you with no regard, grunting and muttering curses under his breath as you squeeze and suction onto his length. You can hardly get your moans out, and even if you could they’d be overshadowed by the sounds of his hips slapping against your ass.

You’re already so pent up from him eating your ass that you know you won’t last much longer. And when he removes his finger from your hole and sneaks around to start rubbing furiously at your clit, you can feel the band in your stomach tighten impossibly more.

“Mmmm Raph—!!”

“I know, can feel ya squeezing me, baby. Go ahead and come f’me, sweetheart. Birthday girl can do whatever she wants.” His free hand goes back to your skull, pushing your cheek to the bed for more leverage while pounding into you.

Your body jerks and twists, thighs threatening to close around his hand but he keeps you pried open while still thrusting into you. Merely a few seconds later you’re coming hard, your scream muffled by the sheets and your body attempting to push back while also trying to get away from his finger that’s still touching your sensitive clit.

He hums in satisfaction and pulls back, giving you a break and squeezing random parts of your body to calm you down. You’re breathing heavily, swallowing to quench your parched throat. With shaky arms you lift yourself and look back at him, finding that same cocky grin plastered on his lips.

“One down…” He slips his cock out, the empty feeling having you shiver. You gasp when you feel the head press against your ass, the tip just barely pushing in.

“Many more to go.”

[ccoconutmall]

✐ᝰIF ONLY SHE KNEW

⪼ home

yuta sighed as he cleaned off the counters with the wet rag, toge was busy taking an order, his voice cutting through the soft music playing inside the cafe. they’ve had this job for almost 2 years, and it still feels like the same routine. clean, talk to rude customers here and there, clean some more, then go home. yuta looked around so he could find something to operate his time, seeing as he had already refilled the cups, pastries, and napkins. he even cleaned the tables. it felt like he cleaned this place 6 times to get ready for the rush that was bound to come soon.

but the sound of the bell ringing to indicate a new person walking through made him look up. a large gasp escaping his mouth as he ducked down to hide behind the counter. what were you doing there? out of all the people he had to see today, when he was covered in sweat, dirty from all the cleaning he did today and he even had stains all over him. you hadn’t even noticed him upon walking in, you were busy with your friends. once toge finished giving a customer their order, he looked down to see yuta covering his head with his arms, trying to hide. “what the hell are you doing? get up you dingus.” he groaned when he saw yuta shake his head nervously, but when he looked up, he could see the reason why he was hiding. “seriously..? yuta. just take the order.” yuta shook his head again as toge groaned, not so much that he had to take your order, but the reason he had to take it was because yuta was acting like a scaredy cat. again.

he gently moved him out of the way with his foot, not noticing yuta slowly walk away without trying to give himself away. “hello, welcome to the coffee bean, may i take your order?” there was a friendly smile plastered on his face, so you wouldn’t think he was as annoyed as he once previously was. putting on his best customer service voice. you hummed and looked up at the large tv menu mounted onto the wall before you started.

“can i get a vanilla bean latte with cold foam and a strawberry shortcake?” he nodded as he put in your order, looking towards your friends so they could put in their order. once he was done typing everything into the ipad, he looked back up at you “$12.50.” you nodded and handed him your credit card out of your wallet. he swiped your card and printed out a paper receipt with your order number on it, and with a smile, you were gone and went to find a seat with your friends. “see yuta, that wasn’t so.. bad?” 

he looked down at his feet, but yuta was nowhere to be found “oh you gotta be fucking with me.” mumbling to himself, he pulled out his phone while nobody was in line.

toge grumbled as he put his phone into his back pocket. yuta scanning the area before he fully came out and walked behind the counter. “go get the order ready.” toge demanded him pointing to the machine. yuta looked at him like a kicked puppy, but he silently did what he was told, and that was making your order. 

“ynnn…” nobara dragged out her words with a huge grin across her face. “is that the cute boy you wanted to see?” she giggled as the two guys looked at you as well, stopping what they were doing before. “oh my god… nobara, i didn’t come here because of a cute guy… i just wanted to hang out since we’ve been so busy with exams recently.” she sucked her teeth quietly and put her hand on her cheek looking over to the counter. she gasped loudly “what about him?!” her whisper yell made you jump a little and look over, there was a new person there. he was tall and skillfully fixing up your dessert, making sure he used the juiciest strawberries. you watched as he cut them up, his hands were delicately fixing up your stuff. yuji laughed at your reaction “oh, it has to be. look at how she’s watching him!” nobara quickly slapping her hand over yuji’s loud mouth. “shut up! we can’t let them know!” 

you rolled your eyes at them, but yuji was right, you were watching him use his hands a little intensely, like you could burn holes straight through his palms. would they believe you if you said it was just because you were watching him make your order? probably not. “guys. please, we’re not having another aaron situation!” you yelled in a hushed tone. all three of them deadpanned “bitch, aaron didn’t even know you, that’s different.” megumi groused, your mouth went slack, but he was also right.

 “how do you know he knows me?” you raised your eyebrow at him, megumi crossed his arms over his chest before he answered you again. “because yuta, was in our high school, and if he’s here, he probably goes to the same university.” you quickly turned your head to get a peak at his name tag, but before you could say anything, your order number was called out. 

“329?” yuta called out, his voice was sort of shaky, but he looked around. “bitch, go!” nobara pushed you out and you went up to the counter. “im 329.” you smiled at him, and he swore his heart started beating out of his chest, he could feel his ears get hot trying to swallow down whatever he was feeling in his stomach before handing you your stuff. “thanks yuta!” you gushed, your fingers gently rubbing against his as you took your order and went back to your table. 

he looked at his hands, dark red blush creeping onto his face as he suppressed the urge to go into the back alleyway where the employees normally take their lunch breaks and scream to the top of his lungs. he was over the moon to say the very least. it might’ve been a small gesture, but after knowing of you for 4 years and being shy to actually initiate anything, he thinks he did a damn good job at hiding how he really felt at that moment. a large, goofy grin was spread across his face. he could feel the ghosting touch of your soft, warm hands against his still. he quickly looked over at you as you talked to your friends and looked back at his hand. 

“why are you staring at your hand, you freak of nature?” toge quipped, but yuta didn’t even care. he just sighed dreamily and looked at him “she touched me..” toge’s eyes widened, he couldn’t believe that yuta actually was able to talk to you. even if it was just to call out your order. “and! she called me by my name!” toge could practically see hearts floating around yuta, it was like he was in a cartoony haze, and toge just nodded his head. “now, before she leaves, you should ask for her number. 

yuta nodded, honestly not hearing a word that left toge’s head, but he tried going along with it. toge watched as you went to the counter again, your friends leaving to wait for you in front of the store. “go! now!” toge pushed yuta to the counter again, which snapped him out of his thoughts. 

“hey, uh.. i wanted to give you a tip, the strawberry shortcake was really good.” yuta looked at you as you handed him a $5. he tried swallowing some spit, but his throat was dry. “it’s no problem.. uh,” he couldn’t stop stuttering but he continued on. “they’re my specialty, everyone always asks for them.” you laughed, then smiled at him “i see why!” he took the money from you, but before you could walk away he stopped you. “hey, i know you might not remember me.. but do you think i could.. maybe get your number?” 

your eyes widened as you looked at him, he was visibly blushing, you don’t even know how long he’s been waiting to ask you, and even though he was fully prepared for you to reject him, you smiled at him, and he swore he could die, right then and there. 

“sure!”

© property of ccoconutmall ‘24. please do not repost, copy, modify, or translate.

taglist;

@sunflowertingzzzz, @k0z3me, @mollzaj, @mixzimi, @chiefinvestigatoremma, @evieskibidi, @7nknown

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[wonjns]

How about some super hot, wet, steamy sex with SVT Mingyu at the sauna's or something 😩 He's just so big

hot & bothered — k.my drabble

♡ kim mingyu x male reader // nsfw

a/n. . . OK been getting lots... LOTS of reqs abt mingyu & this one acc sounded hot so i can no longer deny the ppl what they want !!

kim mingyu was seemingly everywhere,, and the fact that he’s your cocky ex is what made it insufferable for you.

it was unbearable — every bar, club, party, or social gathering you went to, he was there… down to even having the same gym membership as you.

you’d been trying to get back in shape over the summer with the new semester starting soon, and you had done a good job of avoiding the 6 foot adonis for weeks now — that is until you decided to take a celebratory trip to your gym’s sauna.

your first mistake was stepping inside without checking through the fogged glass beforehand, and your second mistake was not leaving as soon as your eyes landed on the huge mass of a man sitting directly across from the entrance, long arms stretched out among the bench backs and tan skin practically illuminating the room.

mingyu eyed you with a silent smirk as you stood there gawking at him, nearly naked with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

he was manspread to his heart’s content, drops of sweat rolling down his broad exposed chest, just begging to be licked up.

he had clearly been working hard, and must’ve just finished a demanding day in the weight room since his muscles were visibly much more bulked than you remembered seeing him a month prior. his bulging biceps made you shift uncomfortably, feeling yourself already growing hard at the sight.

mingyu’s fangy grin only grew when he watched you nervously swallow, eyes drinking in even more of his large form. the sweat on his chiseled abs reflected off the dim light and ignited you with memories of your tongue running up and down them in the past. you could still feel his perked nipples on that buff chest of his beneath your palms.

the sauna smelt like musk — his musk. the kind that turned you on during the days when he would come back into the house exhausted after mowing the lawn, letting you suck him off as a form of gratitude.

speaking of, one look at the humongous mountain of a dick print beneath his towel had you stifling a whimper, the bulge serving as a daunting reminder of how fat his cock really is.

every ounce of your instincts pleaded for you to leave, but you could only draw closer to him while he eyed your half-naked body as well, as if you were under a spell. back when you were dating, mingyu always knew how to smooth talk you into his sheets. he simply understood what you responded to and how to get you hot and bothered.

the time gap of when you last saw him was evident in your inability to resist him, since only a few sly remarks and the singular action of running his large hand through his damp hair was all it took for you to lock the sauna door and pounce on him.

you grinded atop of his lap like a needy animal, moaning as he smashed your lips together and wasted no time in tasting you. your desperate hands roamed the vass expanse of his moist, smooth skin and muscular back, groaning into his mouth as you rolled your hips over his towel-covered erection.

you knew you couldn’t take much more when his wet kisses lowered to your neck, mingyu hungrily sucking marks into your skin. oh how you missed that thick tongue laving all over your collarbones while his huge hands gripped you by the waist.

you threw your head back, tangling your fingers in his wet curls. you hated his man, yet he had you in a pool of euphoria without even moving from his spot on the bench.

without ceasing your grinding for a second, you pushed him back before smoothing your palms down his sweaty, melanated chest. the haze took over your mind while you leaned down to latch your lips onto his taut nipples. he threw his head back when you started sucking harshly, the deep moans he released causing your cock to twitch as it leaked precum.

soon you were shamelessly begging him to take the towel off, desperate for just one last good fuck. and he wasn’t even thinking about denying you of it.

you were both stripped down in seconds, both towels long forgotten on the steamy floor as your sweaty bodies collided. he devoured your mouth one more while lifting you up easily, before sinking you down on that monster cock you had never gotten use to. you began bouncing on his lap, weakly gripping his strong rounded shoulders when he pulled you tighter - feeling your leaky cock start to rub against his sculpted abs.

the heat of the room had your body more slick and mind more dizzy than ever. once he took the perfect opportunity to then suck on your nipples (which he remembered to always have been sensitive), you were climaxing in seconds - whining as you shot ropes of white all over his buff chest. seconds later he emptied his load into you.

you were panting, legs worn and trembling like you had just ran a marathon; but granted, how couldn’t you feel that way after having steamy public sex with the tall, dark hunk that was kim mingyu.

before you left, you told him that would never happen again — you both knew you were lying.

© 𝐟𝐥𝐰𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐢 — all rights reserved

[boynarcing]

I hate to be your dog

leon s. kennedy x puppy boy!reader

word count. 2.2k

cws. reader doesn't speak at all, neglect, implied alcoholism, mentions of heat cycles and sex, reader has a penis, fluff

note. I don't like writing hybrids as just a human with animal ears and a tail... make sure you take note of that before you read LOL… again lots of improper grammar my english sucks || title is Dog by Helena Deland

Leon takes care of his puppy. No, really, he does. You don’t need much to keep a dog happy; just a few scratches behind the ears and you’re set. You just gotta keep them fed and clean up after them, is all. That’s it. Nothing more. That’s all he does for you. No soapy baths or a trim. Not even a snip of those gnarly nails you’ve got growing. They’re so big your paws go crooked when you walk. 

You’re lucky if he remembers to feed you or change your murky water full of loose fur and cloudy patches of accumulated dust and grime. Nasty stuff. You’ll still drink it, though. A dog’s a dog; they’ll take what they can get—  rain or shine. 

Don’t get him wrong, he’s not trying to be neglectful. He cares, believe it or not. He’s just got a lot on his plate. Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head over. You wouldn’t understand. Not with those beady eyes and the silly smile you’re always wearing. At least someone is living stress-free under his roof. 

Leon sits on his couch, sipping on a glass of cold whiskey while watching TV. Nothing important. Politics this, criminals that— it’s whatever. A commercial starts playing, one with a pretty lady running through a set of flowery fields to advertise some fancy-sounding perfume. Something, something Eau de parfum. He thinks Ashley would like it.

The cushions beside him sink, the familiar odor of wet dog and stale chips making his nose wrinkle. 

“Hey, off the couch,” He clicks his tongue, hand gently pushing away your pressing face from his chest. You’re insistent, snuffling at his palm with a cold nose. You lick the salty skin, whining softly. Leon hasn’t washed his hands today. How many times has he peed? He doesn’t remember. 

Your tail wags behind you, slapping against the couch with a soft thump. “Hey,” He tries again, half-assedly adding a stern tone to his tired voice. “C’mon, you’re gonna stink it up.”

You wouldn’t stink if he just washed you for once. 

You whine again, pawing at his slacks and leaving short, wispy hairs behind. Leon grimaces. He grabs you by the scruff, ignoring the pained yip you let out and forcibly setting you down on the cold floor, your ass hitting the surface with a blunt thud. 

“Jesus, I just washed these,” He groans, hands sweeping over the fabric of his pants quickly, not getting a single hair off. He doesn’t bother anymore after seeing that. Instead, he turns his gaze down to you, frowning at the pitiful look you give him.

He nudges your side with the point of his shoe, sighing. That’s supposed to be affectionate— at least by his terms. “There’s food in your bowl, isn’t there?” He checks, looking over at the two blue bowls sitting on a dingy plastic mat with cutesy paw pads printed all over meant to contain the pigsty you usually leave after you eat. They’re full. He checks again, and then a third time. Just to make sure he’s not seeing things.

He nudges you again with his foot, this time pushing you a little. “Go, go eat.” His voice rises in pitch, he’s almost cooing at you. You don’t move at all, only tilt your head dumbly, fluffy ears perking as if trying to hear him right. Leon can physically feel the exhaustion soaking into his body like a sponge at the thought of having to figure out what you could possibly want from him. He’s done everything already, hasn’t he?

He slumps against the couch and groans, letting out another sigh right after. Groan and sigh, he could train you with those noises alone. Groan and sigh, they mean leave him alone. You won’t, though. A hard chin rests on his lap, and your big, sad, rheum-coated eyes stare up at him pleadingly. He starts to feel bad. His hand finds the top of your head and ruffles your fur, rough fingers tugging lightly at your ears. He stays there, mindlessly petting you. Lost in thought while he stares into your eyes. You lean into the touch eagerly, tongue lolling out with your happy panting. Leon squints. 

“Is that a flea?” 

Both hands now search through the fur along your ears, and then at the tufts on your throat that lead down to your belly. You plop down onto your side contentedly, mistaking his probing touches for affection, and Leon leans forward, raking his fingers through your tail. 

“Since when do you have fleas?” He looks worried— that’s new. If you have fleas, will he get fleas? He can’t have that. No way. Not in his house. 

He gets up and hastens towards the bathroom. You yip in alarm, following quickly, looking the happiest you’ve been in ages.

Leon doesn’t waste any time running a bath, sitting on the edge, and searching anxiously on his phone while he waits for the water to rise. 

How to get rid of fleas on dogs. 

He reads the first thing that pops up, something about a soapy ring around your neck and a flea comb. He doesn’t have that. He considers calling Ashley for a moment, before quickly relinquishing the thought. She has tons of pups, and she actually takes care of them, but he doesn’t want help. He’s a man; he can take care of this himself. He can get rid of some measly fleas by himself. Plus, he knows that once he invites her over, he’ll never get her to leave, and he’ll end up in a drunken stupor somehow.

The bath is full enough. He turns the knobs, and the water stops running. A small hand towel is stuffed into the drain, keeping the tub from emptying. “Alright boy,” Leon grunts, picking you up by your belly. “Into the water you go.”

He places you down into the warm water, your face blanking with confusion as your fur sticks to your skin. The water reaches the top of your belly, but the rest of you sticks out. You start to tremble like one of those apple-headed chihuahuas, cold. Leon pats your head, attempting to soothe you. 

“There, there,” he frowns, looking around helplessly. Right. No dog shampoo. Nothing bad will happen if he uses his shampoo on you, right? You’re human enough. It’s not like you’re entirely covered in fur. Uncapping the 2 in 1 he uses, he drizzles it over your back, the cold gel making you yip pitifully. “Shhh.”

He rubs the thick liquid onto your back, and then into your fluffy belly. Behind the ears, under your tail— he even goes as far as to get your paw pads into the mix. No matter how much you whine and squirm in protest, he doesn’t falter, merely sparing you with a few gentle words before continuing. Unexpectedly, he’s entirely focused on you. Not his phone, or the glass of alcohol he always nurses. Just you. 

He manages to pluck some fleas out of your fur by hand, but some stick to your skin like glue, hidden well behind layers and layers of matted fur. 

Leon curses under his breath, deciding to get closer. He kneels in front of the tub and tugs you close, working harder to get the results he wants. He’d get rid of those pesky fleas one way or another.

It takes a large amount of elbow grease and time, but eventually, Leon thinks he’s managed to get most of them out. Now, he’s toweling you dry, grimacing in disgust as he watches the murky water trickle into the drain from afar, dead fleas circling the rim idly. He’ll have to clean that soon. The worst of the worst is over though, and he finally gets a chance to catch his breath. You look happy to be out of the water— happy to be clean.

Your fur, once dull and dusty, shines bright, a healthy gleam glazing over your fluff. It’s pretty, he thinks. And it smells great. Way better than the wet dog smell you always carry around. A hint of vanilla and a trace of oats. Some honey, too. Leon inhales deeply, relishing the fresh scent. He pets the top of your head, threading his fingers through the fur around your ears.

“There we go,” He hums, “Isn’t that better? You’re not stinking up the house anymore, buddy.” He coos, ruffling your hair, purposefully riling you up. The bath did wonders, thank god. He was starting to consider building a dog house for you out back.

You wag your soggy tail and shake your head rapidly to dry off, sending specks of water flying everywhere. Leon tilts his head back and squints through the spray, grinning. “Stupid mutt,” he grunts, throwing the towel over your head playfully. 

He watches silently as you struggle to paw off the rough fabric, letting out agitated chuffs. His eyes roam, going over your chest, where your pebbled nipples lay stiff. It’s slightly uncanny how human you are despite your animalistic behavior. His eyes go lower, to where your crotch is. 

He wonders, briefly, how your cock would look standing tall at attention. Is it red and slick, like a real dog’s? He can’t see it now, the length tucked away in its sheath. 

He’ll have to look during one of your heat cycles— when you’re perpetually trying to get your dick wet and sniffing at his groin desperately. Out of curiosity, of course. Nothing more. 

Shaking his head, Leon tugs the towel off your face, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards at your wide-eyed expression. Stupid mutt.

“Out,” He commands with a humph, “come on.”

You give an eager yip, scampering out of the room on your hands and knees, nails clicking loudly against the floor. Leon winces. He’ll have to clip those soon. Today, hopefully.  

After a quick trip to the nearest pet boutique in town and a short walk-in nail trim, you get home looking better than usual. Better as in he can stand the sight of you for once. And the smell.

“Who’s a good boy?” Leon coos, patting his lap after he sits on the couch. You almost stumble over your feet in getting to him, clumsily climbing onto his lap. Leon’s warm, and he smells like a rich old man. Smells, not looks. 

You take a big whiff, pressing your nose into his neck. Your panting quiets into slow puffs of soft breathing, eyes shutting in bliss. Never ever has Leon let you get this chummy with him, so you bask in what you can get. 

The sight melts his stone-cold heart. It’s a necessary balm. One he didn’t know he needed. 

He feels a little guilty. Do you feel sad about the neglect? He doubts you even know about it, but he still feels bad. Poor thing. Not a single thought in your head. Just food and pets. Food and pets and Leon. 

He pats your head, then cups your cheek, thumb wiping away the snot running down your nose. You try to lick it off his skin, but he pinches your nostrils shut admonishingly before you get a chance.

It’s an uncomfortable responsibility, he finds. Having a small boy on his lap like this. A boy that can’t think for himself. A boy that can’t wipe his mouth after he eats. A boy that can’t pee on the damned puppy pads without it leaking through the corners and onto the polished floors.

It’s an uncomfortable responsibility, one he honestly wouldn’t trade for the world. Who would? Having someone reliant on him waiting at his house in rags he’d barely considered clothes beats any wife he could have ever possibly thought of having. 

Who needs a nagging woman around when he’s got a pretty, stupid boy ready to be used as a footstool constantly following after him? It’s everything a guy with an inferiority complex could ask for. 

Leon scratches your back, itching at a spot you’ve been struggling to reach. A pleased rumble draws from you, followed by a yawn. Leon keeps pampering you, watching as you start to drift off on his lap, your face smooshed against his chest. You’re already drooling, leaving small, damp patches over his shirt.

Glancing over at a clock on the wall, Leon lets out a yawn himself once he sees the time. It’s late, almost 10. He tends to sleep earlier, but you’ve kept him busy and distracted all day. It’s not like he had anything better to do; he never does.

The couch isn’t his preferred sleeping location, but it’ll have to do for tonight. He doesn’t want to risk waking you up, no matter how stiff his muscles get. Awkwardly, he angles himself, trying to get as comfortable as possible in a limited space like this. 

Tomorrow, he thinks, he’ll have to get you a shampoo of your own.

[tojivrse]

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. toji putting you in your place after you give him attitude when he pisses you off — drabble

iii. 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָཐིཋྀ

╰﹕ toji’s superiority complex

﹕In the dimly lit bedroom, you stood by the foot of the bed facing Toji. Your arms crossed over your chest, and a frown is etched deeply into your features. Toji leaned against the doorframe, his expression unreadable but tinged with irritation.

You both exchanged terse words, your frustration bubbling over. "You always act like you're above everyone else." you snapped, glaring up at him.

Toji's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. "Watch your tone, little one.” he growled, his voice low and menacing. "Remember who you're talking to."

You scoffed defiantly, your gaze unwavering. With this, Toji's jaw clenched, and with a swift motion he closed the distance between you. "I suggest you choose your words more carefully next time." he warned, his voice a dangerous whisper.

His presence overwhelmed you, making you fall onto the bed. A small grin took over your frown as he towered over you. You look down, intimidated, and your heart drops to your stomach.

Grabbing your chin, Toji tilts your head back up, forcing your eyes to lock. “That’s what I thought.” he purred with a smirk.

His words fill your body with desire, morphing your gaze to be more lustful. “Why are you looking at me like that, brat?” he snarled.

You giggled, enraging Toji even more. He pushes you backwards, flopping your back onto the bed. His arms hover beside your head as he places hands above your shoulders.

With an exchange of glances, and a slight nod, you submit yourself to him. Toji’s hands wander down your body, pulling down on your shorts. You lift yourself up slightly so he can slide them off.

With your bottom half exposed, his fingers run along the crevices of your opening. You seethe as your body tingles with thirst. “Please,” you plead “remind me who I belong to.”

With a forceful motion, he turns you over. Positioning you in a way that exposes your backside fully to him. On your hands and knees, he grabs ahold of your ass, spreading your heat apart.

The aroma coming from your arousal draws him in like a magnet. His lips meet with your bottom half's, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body.

The taste of you excites Toji greatly. "Look at you," he cooed, "you're already so wet for me." Your breathy moans mixed with the sounds of his mouth swallowing you fill the air.

Your fists grip onto the bedsheets as his tongue moves methodically around your slit. As he stands up, Toji’s hand strikes the right side of your ass, leaving a faint, red, print.

You turn your head, watching him remove his sweatpants behind you. He loves to watch how your back arches when he teases the tip of his manhood against your hole.

Slowly inserting himself, Toji groans as your warmth engulfs him. He hisses out a curse word as your pussy clenches tightly around his dick. “You’re so tight.” he mumbles.

He begins a relentless pace inside of you, and his own eyes start to roll back. Toji grabs a handful of your hair, pulling it back as he forces himself into you.

You're whining and crying from the overstimulation but he can't stop. Not when he's so close, and especially not when you tested his patience so disobediently just moments ago.

He leans over, his chest against your back, grabbing your throat from behind. This primal-like state puts him in a trance, and he can feel himself reaching his own climax. Needy groans escape from his throat as his pace speeds up and he thrusts desperately into you.

You’re making a mess all over his dick as well as the sheets. “That’s my girl.” He whispered into your ear. “Take it, just like that.” With a final pump, he fills you to the brim with his hot liquid.

Your body is shaking as his balls drain inside of you. You feel his abs clench on top of you. Toji’s panting like a dog, kissing your neck as he slowly pulls out of you.

He watches his cum drip out of your cunt, licking up the mess. Your pussy throbs as it feels the warmth of his tongue once more.

You release your position, lying down on the bed beside your lover. Regardless of how much you claim to hate him, your pussy will always be in denial.

⤏ table of contents

[c1qfxugcgy0]

adventures in QA

(previous post in this series)

My shop in Advanced Midbody - Carbon Wing (AMCW) at Large Aircraft Manufacturer (LAM) is at the very end of the composite fabrication building. Hundreds of people carefully lay up a hundred foot long slab of carbon fiber, cure it, paint it, and then we totally fuck it up with out of spec holes, scrapes, primer damage, etc. The people who write up our many defects are from the Quality Assurance (QA) department.

Every single screw and rivet on a LAM aircraft can be traced back to the mechanic who installed it. Back when even everything was done in pen and pencil, it was joked that the paper used to produce an aircraft outweighed the plane itself. Now that everything is computer-based, of course, the amount of paperwork is free to grow without limit.

(Haunting the factory is endless media coverage of an emergency exit door plug popping out of an Advanced Smallbody - Upengine (ASU) plane during a routine flight a few months ago. Unlike that airframe's notorious problems with MCAS, this was a straightforward paperwork screwup by a line worker: the bolts were supposed to be tightened, and they weren't.

As a result the higher ups have visited hideous tribulations on non-salaried workers. Endless webinars, structured trainings. Here at the Widebody plant we have received a steady flow of refugees from the Narrowbody factory, hair-raising tales of receiving one hundred percent supervision from the moment they clock in to the second they clock out from FAA inspectors who can recommend actual jail time for any lapse in judgement.)

A single hydraulic bracket Installation Plan (IP) is around four brackets. The team leads generally assign two bracket IPs per mechanic, since each bracket set is something like a foot apart, and while working on the plane is bad enough it's much worse to have another mechanic in your lap.

Let me list the order of operations:

One: Find where you're supposed to install these brackets. This is harder than you might think.

Firstly, it's a hundred foot long plank of carbon fiber composite, with longitudinal stringers bonded to it to add stiffness. The stringers are pilot drilled in the trim and drill center, a truly Brobdingnagian CNC mill that trims off the composite flash at the edges and locates and drills part holes for us. But there's a lot of holes, so you must carefully find your set.

A minor difficulty is that the engineering drawings are laid out with the leading edge pointing up, while the wing panels in our cells hang from the trailing edge. Not so bad, you just rotate the paper 180 when orienteering, then rotate it back up to read the printed labels.

A major difficulty is that the drawings are from the perspective from the outside of the panel. But we work on the inside of the wing (obviously, that's where all the parts are installed) so we also flip the drawings and squint through the back of the paper, to make things line up.

Large Aircraft Manufacturer has a market cap of US$110 billion, and we're walking around the wing jig with sheets of paper rotated 180 and flipped turnways trying to find where to put brackets.

Oh well, we're paid by the hour.

Two: Match drill the aluminum brackets to the carbon fiber composite stringer. I can devote an entire post to the subtleties of drilling carbon fiber, but I can already tell that this post is going to be a miserable slog, so I will merrily skip over this step.

Three: Vacuum up all the carbon dust and aluminum swarf created during this process. This step is not optional, as your team lead will remind you, his screaming mouth clouding your safety glasses with spittle at a distance of four inches. LAM is very serious about FOD. Every jet airliner you've ever ridden in is a wet wing design-- each interstitial space is filled with Jet A. There is no fuel bladder or liner-- the fuel washes right over plane structure and wing hardware. Any dirt we leave behind will merrily float into the fuel and be sucked right into the engines, where it can cause millions in damage. No place for metal shavings!

If you are nervous about flying, avoid considering that all the hydraulic lines and engine control cables dip into a lake of a kerosene on their way from the flight deck to the important machines they command. Especially do not consider that we're paid about as much per hour as a McDonalds fry cook to install flight-critical aviation components.

Four: Neatly lay out your brackets on your cart, fight for a position at a Shared Production Workstation (SPW) (of which we have a total of four (4) for a crew of thirty (30) mechanics) and mark your IP for QA inspection as Ready To Apply Seal.

Four: Twiddle your thumbs. Similarly, we have three QA people for thirty mechanics. This is not enough QA people, as I will make enormously clear in the following steps.

Five: Continue waiting. Remember, you must not do anything until a QA person shows up and checks the box. Skipping a QA step is a “process failure” and a disciplinary offense. From the outside, you can observe the numerous QA whistleblowers and say “golly, why would a mechanic ever cut a corner and ignore QA?” Well...

Six: QA shows up. Theoretically, they could choose to pick up the mahrmax you prepared for them and gauge every single hole you've drilled. But since we're three hours into the shift and they're already twenty jobs behind, they just flick their flashlight across the panel and say “looks good" and then sprint away. Can't imagine why our planes keep falling out of the sky.

Seven: Apply the seal to the bracket. P/S 890 is a thick dark gray goop that adheres well to aluminum, carbon fiber, fabric, hair and skin. Once cured, it is completely immune to any chemical attack short of piranha solution, so if you get any on yourself you had better notice quick, otherwise it'll be with you as long as the layer of epidermis it's bonded to. LAM employees who work with fuel tank sealant very quickly get out of the habit of running their hands through their hair.

Eight: Now you wait again. Ha ha, you dumb asshole, you thought you were done with QA? No no, now you put up the job for QA inspection of how well you put the seal on the bracket. Twiddle your thumbs, but now with some urgency. The minute you took the bottle of seal out of the freezer, you started the clock on its "squeeze-out life." For this type of seal, on this job, it's 120 minutes. If QA doesn't get to you before that time expires, you remove your ticket, wipe off the seal, take another bottle out the freezer, and apply a fresh layer.

Nine: Optimistically, QA shows up in time and signs off on the seal. Well, you're 100 minutes into your 120 minute timer. Quickly, you slap the brackets onto the stringer, air hammer the sleeve bolts into position, thread nuts onto the bolts, then torque them down. Shove through the crowd and mark your IP "ready to inspect squeeze out"

Ten: Let out a long breath and relax. All the time sensitive parts are over. The criteria here is "visible and continuous" squeeze out all along the perimeter of the bracket and the fasteners. It is hard to screw this up, just glop on a wild excess of seal before installing it. If you do fail squeezeout, though, the only remedy is to take everything off, throw away the single-use distorted thread locknuts, clean everything up and try again tomorrow.

Eleven: QA approved squeeze out? Break's over, now we're in a hurry again. By now there's probably only an hour or two left in the shift, and your job now is to clean off all that squeeze out. Here's where you curse your past self for glopping on too much seal. You want to get it off ASAP because if you leave it alone or if it's too late in the shift and your manager does feel like approving overtime it'll cure to a rock hard condition overnight and you'll go through hell chipping it off the next day. You'll go through a hundred or so qtips soaked in MPK cleaning up the bracket and every surface of the panel within three feet.

Twelve: Put it up for final inspection. Put away all your tools. (The large communal toolboxes are lined with kaizen foam precisely cut out to hold each individual tool, which makes it obvious if any tool is missing. When you take a tool out, you stick a tool chit with your name and LAMID printed on it in its place. Lose a tool? Stick your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye, pal, because the default assumption is that a lost screwdriver is lurking in a hollow "hat" stringer, waiting to float out and damage some critical component years after the airplane is delivered.)

One tool you'll leave on your cart, however, is the pin protrusion gage. There is a minimum amount of thread that must poke outside of the permanent straight shank fastener's (Hi-Lok) nut, to indicate that the nut is fully engaged. That makes sense. But there's also a maximum protrusion. Why?

Well, it's an airplane. Ounces make pounds. An extra quarter inch of stickout across a thousand fasteners across a 30 year service life means tons of additional fuel burnt. So you can't use a fastener that's too long, because it adds weight.

On aluminum parts, it's hard to mess up. But any given composite part is laid up from many layers of carbon fiber tape. The engineers seemed to have assumed that dimensional variation would be normally distributed. But, unfortunately, we buy miles of carbon fiber at a time, and the size only very gradually changes between lots. When entire batches are several microns oversize, and you're laying up parts from fifty plies and an inch thick, you can have considerable variation of thickness on any given structural component. So you had better hope you had test fit all of your fasteners ahead of time, or else you'll be real sorry!

And, if you're really lucky, QA will show up five minutes before end of shift, pronounce everything within tolerance, then fuck off.

And that's how it takes eight hours to install eight brackets.